His Crimson Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own Crimson Peak nor any of Guillermo del Toro's wonderful characters. However I do claim all the original ideas shared within this fic.

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Synopsis: Though lovely, every rose has its thorns. Alan and Edith return to America in hopes of a fresh start, while Allerdale Hall sits (mostly) vacant for the first time in decades with only the wind rushing through its ramshackle walls. Yet, even for ghosts, there is life-both bitter and sweet-after Crimson Peak.

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Thomas descended through the floorboards of the master bedroom and the ceiling below.

Down, down, down he sank along with his fears, which were rapidly sinking into a terror.

What had he just done? He had touched and even held Edith, but only after she had already fallen. That's right, she had begun to fall only when he was clear across the room. Clearly, he would be blamed though - Alan had seen him; and even if Thomas believed he had not caused her fall, what if he had? He understood nothing about being a ghost.

How horridly frustrating! As Thomas cursed himself, a chaotic scene unfolded in front of him on the main floor of the house. Alan's shouts, having radiated down from the floor above, triggered an immediate scramble of the staff.

Edith's maid and housekeeper, who had been preparing things in the dining room directly under the master bedroom, both shot from the room. Multiple footsteps ascending the second story stairs thundered throughout the manor. Urgent voices, Alan's the most commanding among them, carried loudly.

In record speed, a carriage and servant were dispatched to retrieve Dr. Mattheson from his home. Minutes saturated with strain passed for Thomas. Still shocked and terrified by what had happened, he clung to a far corner of the dining room. The ordeal had left him feeling shaken to the core in a way he didn't know was possible in the general sea of nothingness he had generally felt in death. So unsure whether he even had the strength to move his incorporeal body a single inch while the fate of Edith's health still hung in the balance, he focused his thoughts on staying out of sight where he was - if that was even how it worked.

He listened, as Dr. Mattheson entered through the service entrance and corridor before his footsteps ascended the stairs as well. Whereas the voices upstairs had died down before the doctor arrived, again Thomas could hear dribs and drabs of what was happening through the ceiling above. He found it hard to focus enough to piece together fully what was said, but the rise and fall of Mattheson's soothing tones indicated that some normalcy may have returned to Edith's situation.

It was almost 9 o'clock when both men, Alan and Dr. Mattheson, descended to the main floor of the house. The housekeeper had preceded them somewhat earlier to keep the dinner that had been quickly left to the wayside in the calamity. Now when both Alan and the doctor had finally entered the dining room, Alan rang the service bell before they each tiredly took a seat.

Afraid to move, Thomas remained frozen to his corner. It did not seem he had been noticed. Although still deeply rattled, the ghost listened hungrily to the men's conversation, hoping to know how Edith was doing.

However, not much was said at first. Despite his weary looks, Alan sat stiffly in his chair at the head of the long table, mainly watching the service door with a stern expression. Mattheson checked and perfunctorily polished his pocket watch with a handkerchief, which he also used to wipe his face. The silence was only broken when the housekeeper entered with a cart holding two covered plates, which she set upon the men's place settings. After she uncovered the saved food and made sure Alan and Mattheson had everything they needed, the woman retreated from the room.

After they had both had a chance to taste the meal, Mattheson finally broke the silence: "Alan, it was nice of you to offer to let me stay and eat with you after I missed dinner at home. If I didn't think you also needed to eat though, I would tell you to go to bed directly; you look worn out, man."

Alan had just lowered his utensils and leaned back in the deep seat of his armed dining chair. Looking as weighed down as his friend's comment had indicated, he reached for the glass of whiskey that sat in front him and took a pull of his would-be nightcap even though the meal wasn't done.

"Despite my best efforts, I'm afraid I am, Harry," Alan confessed a moment later. "I knew that this would likely come with difficulties. I had only hoped that Edith's pregnancy wouldn't be so hard - maybe it was a lot to ask though, given the circumstances…"

Mattheson waited, clearly considering the solemn tone of his friend's voice and the way his words trailed away into quiet uncertainty.

From where he observed, Thomas had to wonder what this doctor, who also seemed to be a confidant of Alan, knew of the mysteriously desolate air surrounding Edith's pregnancy. Once again, naturally he found himself wondering if the conversation playing out before him could lend him any further clues as well.

Therefore, the late baronet listened intently when Harrison Mattheson replied: "I know, and tonight was probably a scare the two of you really didn't need. Still, it's important to keep in mind that while Edith's constitution was weakened by what went on over there, her condition through this has been remarkably better than we had initially expected. In about two more weeks she will be into the third trimester too, and that's pretty much the homestretch at that point, right?"

Thomas couldn't help but wonder worriedly over the doctor's words, though to his dismay, Alan only nodded quietly. With no further context yet mentioned for him to go on, Thomas' thoughts progressively deteriorated over the moments that the two men supped in quiet.

Why now was Mattheson bringing this up, that Edith had been 'weakened by what went on over there'? Thomas felt sickened at what he knew could only be a reference to her time at Allerdale Hall. Despite the time that had evidently passed, was it really too much to think that Edith had not suffered permanent and long-term physical damage?

If it were the case, oh how Thomas would only wish that he could live again, if only to kill himself once more for the mistreatments he himself had let befall poor Edith under Lucille's hand.

Though the men talked again sparingly, to Thomas' frustration, nothing more was said to clarify his fears. He listened in silent agony while Mattheson attempted more general encouragements to Alan. He also gave what sounded like reiterations of helpful advice to help ensure Edith could avoid further dizzy spells. With tired gratitude, Alan confirmed that increased hydration and assistance gradually rising from bed for increased bouts of standing or walking would now always be assured in Edith's daily routine.

With Alan and Mattheson each almost finished with their drinks, Alan rang the service bell. When a servant arrived, he ordered that the carriage be prepared for Dr. Mattheson's return home. In the minutes remaining, they sipped at the last of their drinks. When Alan looked just about to rise though, Harry placed a hand on his arm. Having paused him, the doctor said to his friend, "Alan, you know, what you're doing is a very good thing. Most other men wouldn't have bothered, but I think you're doing a great job, and no matter what, this child will be one of the luckiest on this earth to be destined to have you as a father."

Thomas noticed the odd way that Alan gazed at this friend. His mouth was slightly agape in a momentarily unreadable expression. Perhaps he was struck by the gravity of his friend's compliment. Still, a moment later his face softened into a small smile that even Thomas found was far more "Alan" than the looks of exhaustion the blonde man had worn of late.

"Thanks, Harry, that means a lot, and I hope I can prove you right on that," he replied, as Mattheson withdrew his hand.

A moment later, Alan saw the doctor out into the hall, so that Thomas was left over in the vacant room with only the cold, unwanted scraps of their dinner. Left on his own as ever, the late baronet tried to process the odd implications of the exchange he had witnessed, though he was certain it would be to no avail.

Why shouldn't have Alan bothered for his own child with Edith? Thomas had believed Alan to be a good man, but now he found his impressions becoming a mess.

If it wasn't that he didn't care for becoming a father, perhaps it was Edith that Alan didn't want - could he not forgive that another man, despite being her lawful husband, had had her first? Alongside his fears, irrational anger on Edith's part bubbled within Thomas. Reflexively, he glared at the door through which Alan had left - until suddenly, to his surprise, there reappeared Alan, entering the room again.

Alan's return should not likely have surprised Thomas the way it did. Perhaps, as master of the house, he would call and wait for servants to come back to clear the plates despite the hour.

However, a moment later, as Alan turned and shut the dining room door, Thomas thought not. Holding a breath he didn't have to hold, Thomas watched, as refacing the dining room from where he stood at the door, Alan gave the room a sweeping stare. Still looking around from beneath cautiously lowered brows, the man crossed carefully to the chair at the head of the table closest to the hall door.

Left alone for a moment as he had been, Thomas had drifted toward the inside of the room. The ghost hovered now at the opposite end of the table, behind the chair in which Alan had taken dinner earlier. His emotions toward the other man still stirring wildly, he watched Alan's unexpected behavior with odd fascination - until the blonde-haired doctor opened his mouth.

Alan's voice was barely above a whisper, as he commanded: "Thomas – Thomas, where are you? If you're really here, come out –"

The effect was bizarre and far more immediate than the ghost could have predicted. Whether he had any ability to fully control his form and when and where he appeared to people, Thomas could not fight it.

The former baronet felt an odd sensation of solidity, and there, his ghoulish form fazed into full view, right before the eyes of Dr. Alan McMichael.

"Good Lord," Alan intoned, his countenance going instantly pale at the sight, a clear sign to Thomas that he could in fact see him right where he floated. Terrified himself at appearing before the man he had rivaled in life, Thomas could not help but give Alan credit; though Alan's hands now clenched the arms of the dining chair in which he sat, turning his knuckles white, he had courageously maintained his seat.

Staring at the apparition in front of him head on, Alan swallowed audibly but got his words out clearly enough. "I am either losing my mind, or it really is you - what, in the name of all that is good, are you and what are you doing here?"

Thomas stared helplessly from his place in the room opposite of Alan. Though he had been quick to reply to Edith a few hours earlier, now put on the spot to really explain himself, he had to think about the words. The venom he had felt for Alan a few minutes prior had drained from him fully too. Therefore, now feeling horribly exposed, the late baronet put his hands out, palms down, a gesture he hoped would be more soothing than inciting to Alan.

With effort, he managed to call up a reply. "I realize that seeing me - I mean, my ghost - is quite possibly the last thing you could've wanted. Therefore, I am being honest when I say I didn't really mean to come here."

His blue eyes positively owlish, Alan gazed back in disbelief. Whether it was still of seeing a ghost or of Thomas' reply, the ghost guessed it was probably both. Alan's jaw worked, as if there were other things he wanted to say, until finally he decided: "Then why did you?"

The poignant, accusatory question hung on the air between them for a beat before Thomas could find the will to carry on a reply.

"Well - I'm afraid there's not exactly a manual that explains about how being dead works," he said, speaking frankly. For effect, the late baronet let his gaze follow a tendril of the ethereal blood ever flowing out from his gruesome face wound.

His posture easing minutely in his seat, Alan's brows lowered warily. Though he kept the volume of his voice down, Alan's tone was hard. "You'll have to understand why I'm not so sure I can believe that coming from you."

"Of course, I understand. Much as I understood, even before I died that day, that my apologies would never even begin to cover the hurt that you and Edith suffered because of Lucille and me. I am so sorry." These admissions came easily to Thomas. In spite of any flaws that Thomas might find with Alan going forward, the late baronet was sincere in his regrets.

Alan's gaze remained focused. He raised a hand to his face, so that his knuckles rested pensively against his lips. Though Thomas knew he probably didn't deserve this chance to speak to Alan, he allowed himself to be slightly relieved, as it appeared that the man had at least actively listened to his apologies.

Thomas continued: "Surely, you're probably not pleased that I was anywhere nearby when Edith had her fall. I certainly never would have been that close to her, or certainly dared to try to touch her, had I not realized she was in danger."

"Still, I hope that she… and the baby were not hurt in any way?" the late baronet allowed himself to finish cautiously.

"From the way Edith described it and from her doctor's best guess, it was just a dizzy spell. She has had a lot of bed rest, and she probably stood up too quickly after lying down. We'll need to take better care when she's getting up from lying and sitting," Alan explained, before pausing a moment to think.

Alan started hesitantly again. "I am curious though - Edith indicated that she thought I was the one to catch her. I chose not to dissuade her of that, but maybe you can tell me a bit more about that part?" he questioned the ghost.

"I mean it when I say that, while I am here by some way, I have no intention of alarming or hurting Edith or you further with my presence. I only acted because I realized I could and there was no one else to help - fortunately, she was only barely conscious and apparently believed it when I answered her that I was you," Thomas replied. He only hoped that Alan would sense his earnestness.

Indeed, the man seemed to be trying his best to weigh the words he was hearing. However, already clearly worn to the bone from the evening's events and what probably felt like the absolute improbability of the conversation he was currently having, Alan leaned forward and put his face in his hands. He groaned exhaustedly as he raked his hands over his eyes: "I suppose with everything we encountered at Allerdale, it was too much to ask that you would stay away upon learning that Edith is pregnant."

Thomas frowned, again confused by the entirety of the situation of Edith's baby. "I'm not sure if I know what you mean by that," the late baronet answered automatically.

Alan's head had already snapped up sharply. The man's eyes had abruptly gone wide again, and he had drawn a sharp breath at what had been said. However, it was already too late - as soon as the uncertain words had slipped from Thomas' mouth, it was as if a spark in the darkness of his ghostly mind had suddenly illuminated.

The late baronet had not had a moment of clarity quite like this since his death. He felt as though the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place faster than he could make them out.

Immediately the ghost had to ask: "Alan, please tell me, how long has it been since you came that day and rescued Edith from Allerdale Hall?"

Alan's gaze had grown hollow. He looked unwilling to answer, and so Thomas begged again, "Please."

"About five months," Alan answered stiffly.

In the silence that followed, Thomas could only stare.

So little time had passed since his death. How could that be?

Then, slowly Thomas started to recall all that he had already heard that evening. "But Dr. Mattheson said… Edith's… well, it sounded like, she's almost at six months, but that could mean –"

Thomas looked back at Alan again, but the man's eyes were hidden. His elbows were up on the table, and his forehead had fallen against his clasped hands.

Every ghostly ounce of the late Thomas Sharpe's being froze as understanding then dawned. "Oh heavens", the ghost breathed into the heavy silence that had otherwise enveloped the dining room.

Alan sighed heavily. He had managed to pick his head back up from its resting place on his hands to evaluate the look on Thomas' face.

The expression the ghost wore was apparently clear enough. For Alan's part, he wore an ironic, exhausted look. Alan sounded weary when he spoke. "I suppose even if what you'd seen so far and what I said just now hadn't tipped you off already, you would have figured it out eventually in being here."

Thomas' thoughts were still straining at the realization. He could hardly put the words together to say what he thought was happening. If Alan's reaction didn't seem like such a confirmation, the late baronet wouldn't have dared to think it –

Thomas struggled, as he nearly croaked, "Are you sure? I- I mean, are you really saying – i-it's my child?"

And when Alan nodded silently, Thomas felt immediately as though he could melt away. A surge of emotions welled from within him.

He and Edith had only been together once. Was it really possible? His mind spun at high-speed.

Of course it was possible; unfortunately, Thomas knew how it worked all too well.

Yet, now Thomas knew - in their desperate love making that snowy night - he and Edith had made a child.

Good Lord…

How Thomas wanted to be happy for that!

But truly, the ghost's feelings tempered quickly. Fully happy or possibly even partially happy, Thomas could not be - not having paid witness day-in-and-day-out, ever since he had arrived, to Edith and Alan's deeply somber behavior.

"Alan - I- I didn't know. I didn't know all that would happen, or what had happened since my death," Thomas' voice quaked. His emotions were running high. The wonder and realization of everything had finally set in: "I don't know how you're handling it or even what you're planning to do, but it's obvious to me now: you're not only taking care of Edith but also my unborn child."

Alan replied simply, apparently grasping Thomas' recent revelation faster than Thomas himself could: "Yes, and I plan to continue doing so - Edith and I are married, and I am planning to raise Edith's baby as my own, and so to the world, I will be this child's father."

Thomas' heart, if he still had one, would have ached. "Alan - " Thomas' voice stalled. He felt as if he would cry, but of course there were no tears. The words rushed from him, perhaps some of the most sincere he'd ever spoken, alive or dead: "How ever can I thank you?"

Alan looked back at the earnest and distraught ghost in front of him. It was obvious that despite the strangeness of the situation Dr. Alan McMichael continued to find himself in, his mind was altogether clear: "Though you find yourself here now, apparently even in spite of your own desire, you will promise never to reveal yourself to Edith nor bring any harm or distress to me or my family ever again."

The reply of Thomas Sharpe's ghost was immediate. With two words his vow was clear:

"I promise."

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Note: It's been a while, and I was missing this little fic again. Hope you guys are doing well out there, dear readers, who are so wonderfully still following this fic! Hugs, Origamikungfu.