Chapter two.
I've got most things mapped out so these chapters will be coming fast - also I want to get this done before the DVD release when the 'Are they dreaming or not' will be explained (maybe).
Thanks all those who reviewed, followed and favorited, really you guys, I mean it, such a great lot of people!
Toby Whitehouse owns all the characters here, I have simply tried to carry on how I think they would behave. Hopefully I've given it a good shot!
Hal left the hotel to start his freezing journey home alone. Tom had a late shift and Alex was probably spending another day in the house, God he hoped she wasn't cleaning again! If he had to walk into that kitchen one more time with everything just slightly crooked, or wet or rearranged he was going to-
No, let's not think about that, it would be safer for all if he hadn't planned the details beforehand.
He started to frown as he pulled his jacket around him, having a body temperature didn't half make you sensitive to weather conditions, he was getting goose-pimples under his sleeves!
He sniffed, he couldn't understand how Alex could walk around in vests and shorts. Although she was from Scotland, and the house was warmer than the Arctic tundra that was Barry. Come to think of it, she hadn't seemed to leave the house very much at all. She was always there when they left for work and greeted them enthusiastically upon their return. Tom had joked it was like having a wife, the half embarrassed smile Alex had flashed Hal had made him feel distinctly self conscious.
Another thing he now had to consider, he thought as he rounded a corner. The possibility of a wife, a family and everything else human life aspired to. Were these now his aspirations?
Marriage, a house, a mortgage, life insurance, children. These were all things that had happened around him that he hadn't cared to consider for himself – the mere thought had been brushed aside with contempt. Before he would have torn apart marriages, taken possession of whatever house he wished, ended people's assurance of life, slaughtering their children while the parents watched…
Hal stopped dead with a gasp. He'd done it again; let his mind wander. And it always wandered to the same dark places. He started walking again with renewed care, just because he was human, didn't mean he could let his thought run free; there was still danger, he wasn't completely safe. He was human now he reminded himself, it would take to adjust he repeated in his head with every step.
Hal faltered at a crossroads, one way took him along long straight roads back to the house. Or he could go through town, past rowdy bars and pubs full of stinking men and loud women.
Normally – ha, 'normally' – Hal would take the longer way where the chance of encounters were limited, but what about now? Hal swallowed as he felt his heart beat faster – he still wasn't used to that, every beat felt like a drum in his ear. He took a step one way, then stopped, his foot poised to take him back via the empty streets.
He should play it safe; he should choose the He should take the safe route. Or should he? What was 'safe' now? He had always considered safe to mean to function without the draw or fear of blood. Well, he was doing that wasn't he? He was 'safe'. He suddenly didn't want to just function in the human world any more, he wanted to a working, socializing part of it. There was nothing stopping him now from doing that, so why was he purposefully keeping everything at arm's reach still? He needed to embrace humanity and all of it's stinking, loud, rude or unpleasant inhabitants. They were his people now, he should join them.
He took another breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned around, towards the noise, the laughing.
He needed to relax, get out of his head and join his own kind.
Hal got home and slammed the door, his breath coming hard and fast as his lungs scream. He bent over with the exertion before he took off up the stairs. Alex was on the sofa again, she turned her head but all she saw was Hal's blurred mass as he ran up into his room.
'Hal? You alright?' She called. Thump thump thump, slam. No answer.
She put down the magazine slowly and got up, moving to the doorframe and looking up the stairs she called. 'Hal?'
She stepped up the stairs slowly, one hand on the wall. When she got to the door to their room she hesitated then leaned in and almost whispered 'Hal?'
He threw the door open making Alex jumped back in surprise.
'I'm fine.' He said with a gasp, one hand on the door, the other behind his back. He was sweating, breathing hard but trying to look calm.
'You sure? Because you look like the time you came home after Tom'd tried to do the accounts.' Alex looked at him hard. 'Tom didn't try to do the hotel's accounts did he? Because honestly Hal, I cleaned up the papers and the fire damage the first time, I'm not doing it again.'
'No! No, God no. Honestly, I'm fine.' Hal breathed, his face breaking into a smile. 'I just need to,' he paused, 'catch my breath, and clean up, after my run. I ran home, I felt like a run.' He gave a short laugh, 'Forgot what running while having to breathe was like.' His face broke into a lopsided smile.
Alex raised an eyebrow, Gabbling Hal was new. She had to admit though, Hal looked good, he looked warn out, but there was a lovely red colour to his cheeks and his eyes had a sparkle that had been missing recently.
'You decided to run home?' She said skeptically. 'Just like that? In jeans?'
Hal shrugged, 'Haven't done it since before, I'd forgotten how difficult things were when you're human.' He raised his shoulder and gave an involuntary flinch. 'I swear it was never this hard the first time!'
Alex smiled. 'Well remember to stretch so your muscles don't seize up.'
Hal blinked, a grin across his pink and red face. 'Yeah, I didn't think of that.'
They both stood there looking at one another. Slowly, Alex nodded. 'Okay, see you downstairs?' She said as she stepped away.
'Ah, actually, I think I'm going to go straight to bed. I'm feeling a bit…'
'Knackered?' Alex ventured.
Hal smiled again.
'I suppose it's for the best. A guy your age, don't want to break a hip.' Teased Alex.
'Very funny.' Hal said archly. 'Good night.' He started to close the door.
Alex stepped in, 'Are you alright Hal? You seem…' she reached forward, his face was looking very red on one side.
'How's the job hunt going?' Hal cut in rather firmly. It made Alex jump a little, but when she saw his eyes, they looked friendly and innocent.
'The job's fine.' She said carefully as her face paled. 'I've got a… There's not that much…' she was fumbling for words.
'Well, I'm sure you'll find something.' He smiled briskly. 'Now if you'll excuse me?' Alex nodded, the mention of a job had sent a shiver up her back. Hal however gave a perfunctory smile, half bowed his head and closed the door behind him without another word.
Alex was left standing on the landing not sure if Hal had ended the conversation because he saw how awkward it was for her, or if that was the whole reason in had brought it up in the first place.
Hal shut the door, put his back against it and silently turned the key in the lock. Moving his head, ear against the wood, he closed his eyes and concentrated until he heard Alex's steps receding. Jesus, it was so much harder to hear things now. It was like he was walking around with misted glasses and cotton wool in his ears.
She was downstairs now.
Hal exhaled, a painful and exhausted breath and then willed his heart to return to the incessant hammer he had come to recognize as the new 'normal'. He felt bad about bringing up jobs around Alex, he knew how delicate a subject it was, but when she had gone to touch his face he's panicked; hitting that raw nerve was the most expedient route available to end the conversation.
He rubbed hish and over his eyes and pushed himself off the door. Walking past the mirror he did a swift jerky snap before turning his head away in frustration; he was so used to seeing nothing that whenever he went past his reflection now he thought he was being followed. At least he'd started to disguise the double-take as a twitch.
He paused, took a deep breath and changed from walking past the mirror to planting his feet in front of it, head bowed. He looked at the floor as he positioned himself, just like he had that first time. He slowly raised his eyes and met the man in front of him. His face was shiny, his lips were parted for panting and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He brushed it back with one hand then moved his fingers down to his eyebrow, then cheek and finally, gingerly to his jaw. He winced, as his fingers pressed lightly on the tender reddening spot.
It had happened by accident. He had gone to a bar and instantly wished he'd been elsewhere. His hand shook as he bought a drink, his blood pressure rose whenever someone brushed past him, it looked like everyone was staring at him, shaking their heads accusingly; they knew he didn't belong there, that he hadn't earned his place among them.
His throat had tightened, his chest constricted, he couldn't breath: He had fled, bursting out of the wine bar and running down the street where it as darker; quieter.
There had been two of them: Lousy drunks looking for a fight. He'd banged into one in his haste, apologized and tried to go around them, but they didn't let him.
'Look at Lord Fauntleroy here.' The broad Welsh accent slurred, Hal had lowered his head, one, two, three, four, five and turned around, attempting to escape. 'I bet you never been properly sorry for anything in your life.'
Hal had stopped then and turned just in time to be pushed back by number two. 'Yeah, we'll make you sorry you ever came here, Wales is for Welsh, not English pricks like you.'
'I don't want any trouble,' Hal had said clearly, as warmth grew inside his stomach and his heart rate slowed. He had backed away at first, hands up. They thought he was scared for his life; he knew they should be scared for theirs.
'Yeah? Well you found it!' The other chirped in, moving closer.
'Please,' he had said to them shaking his head. 'I, I don't want to hurt anybody.' It was coming, his panicked mind was clearing as calming clarity spread around his body; he could picture exactly what he would do, three to disarm, ten to incapacitate, twelve to paralyze, fifteen to kill; over in less than a minute, his eyes moved to the second; perhaps a minutes and a half.
'Please just walk away.' He said one last time. He knew he couldn't. He never walked away from a fight.
They had laughed.
Back in his room, Hal flexed his other hand and looked down at the bloodied knuckles that he had hidden from Alex and circled his stiffening shoulder.
It would take days before he was alright again, longer before he was properly healed. He gently touched the front of his black sodden shirt, drawing his hand away to reveal a dark orangy-crimson stain.
He looked back at himself into his own eyes; he saw them shining, just as Alex had. The man in the mirror smiled.
Right, on to completing Chapter 3. Hope you're sticking with it.
See you in a few days!
