Hal picked up the book Annie had left behind when she fled the room. He ran his fingers over the ridges of the gold pattern inlaid in its green leather cover, then opened it to a familiar place, reading words he knew by heart: 'You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.'
Standing, Hal walked over to his small bookshelf and replaced the volume. He straightened it carefully, so it would perfectly align with the other books. He thought about hope and agony. Between the two of them, hope was crueler by far.
Tonight Annie had made him feel safe for the first time since Leo's death. She had made him feel safe, and then so much more. Tracing his fingers over his jaw, Hal shivered, imagined he could still feel the cool touch of her lips. How lonely she must be, unseen and unheard by all but the world's monsters.
He moved his hand down to his shoulder, dug his fingers into the skin there, its damning mark hidden just beneath his shirt. Perhaps he could obscure it with a fresher injury, pretend he had been attacked. He pulled his shirt up, pressed his thumb into the burn hard, wincing. If Annie ever saw...
At best he might win her trust, talk her around to the unreliable nature of prophecy. At worst, she would set her lovely hands to his death. He had seen her kill in defense of her child before. She had more than enough power. And her strength of will was a perpetual astonishment to him. When she'd come back to rescue Eve from Kirby, she was like an avenging angel, aglow with the light of her purpose.
He had looked at her and thought that, if love was as strong as death, her love must be stronger still. He had craved some of her affection for himself. Hope was cruel. It had led him to worse things than hatred or fear ever had. He hoped he could prove the prophecy wrong. But if he wasn't strong enough, it would be Annie and Tom who paid the price. He let them believe in him, and let himself believe that he could prove his worth in their patchwork family.
Hal pressed his forehead against the side of the bookshelf, sighing. It was amazing what could be rationalised.
vVv
When his alarm went off at 5:30, Hal felt like he'd barely slept. Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled into the hallway and then leaned against the wall near the bathroom door, settling in to wait. The shower was running inside, but Tom never took long. Feeling bleary, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, not looking forward to work.
Mid-yawn, Annie appeared in front of him. Hal snapped his mouth shut and stood up straight. "Morning, Annie," he said, envying her. If only he could disappear at will. Though perhaps that would be unwise: once he managed it, he'd likely do little else.
"Hi!" she chirped. "You're up! Good. I thought I heard you two moving around down here." She smiled at him, showing teeth.
Hal sighed internally. While his response to anxiety was to freeze up and withdraw, Annie was quite different. She just poured more and more enthusiasm on and hoped for the best. Sometimes he found it endearing. At other times it felt like she was tap dancing on his frazzled nerves.
Annie leaned forward, screwing her face up in sympathy. "You look tired."
"I am," he said, not sure where this was going. She was acting like nothing had happened between them. Perversely, that made Hal wish 'nothing' would happen again; more than he expected he would, considering all the dire possibilities he'd obsessively catalogued last night.
"I've just the thing for that-" she started. At that moment the bathroom door opened and Tom stepped out. He blinked at the two of them, rubbing a towel over his short hair. "'Morning," he said, nodding at them.
Hal nodded back. For her part, Annie gave Tom a big smile. "Good morning, Tom!" she sang out in reply. Tom started to walk away and Annie turned back to Hal. "As I was saying, I've got just the thing for that. You're not going to work today!"
She gave him another forced smile.
"I'm not?" Hal asked. Beside him Tom froze mid-step. "He's not?" he asked at the same time, turning back. He looked as confused as Hal felt, his eyebrows drawing together.
Annie glanced between them. "Yeah."
"Why's that then?" Tom asked.
"Well," she looked to Hal as if gauging his reaction, "you could say Hal and I had a chat last night. And I thought he could do with a little break from, uh," she clasped her hands, twisting them nervously, "all the yummy people at the cafe. There's lots of things that need to be done around here, so we'll keep busy enough." She turned toward Hal. "I've made a list. You like lists!"
She was trying so hard. Hal could feel the tension vibrating off her, a faint electric charge in the air. He sympathized. Apparently last night hadn't left her with much peace of mind either.
"Oh," he said, choosing to embrace the change of plans. It would be awkward, but the thought of not having to be around humans for a full 24 hours was a welcome one. A little more sleep would be nice too. "Okay."
"You sure skiving off like that's such a good idea?" Tom asked.
Annie's face fell. It was painful to watch. Hal winced internally. One simply did not get between a member of this household and their coping mechanisms. They were all, in one way or another, half mad most of the time.
"What's wrong with it?" Annie asked.
"Well, he's got to get back out there, doesn't he?" Tom lifted his hand and made an arcing motion with it mid-air. "Back on the horse."
Annie's eyes narrowed. "'Back on the horse'? That's not a reason, Tom, that's a cliche," she huffed. "And this," she mimicked Tom's arcing motion. "What's that supposed to be? ...Show jumping?"
Tom ducked his head, looking hurt. "I thought we'd be getting back to normal today, that's all." He waved in Hal's direction. "Besides, it's just gonna make it harder for him if we break routine."
Tom had a point there. Hal looked between the two of them, feeling torn. The peace Annie had given him last night had been so unexpected and so welcome. He couldn't possibly go against her, not if it meant never having that again. But Tom was his best friend. His presence was the only thing that made going out into the world endurable most days. How was Hal supposed to pick a side?
"Everybody takes a day off now and then," Annie said, her tone softening. "I don't see how it hurts anything. It's like a sick day, Tom. Everybody gets sick days."
Tom shook his head. "But can't you just trust me on this, Annie?" He spread his hands. "I know you don't like me grammar and whatnot and maybe you think I'm just a dumb kid but I know this."
Instead of compromising, they were holding their positions. How long would this go on? What if they started making a habit of it? Hal's fingers twitched as he fought the urge to start tapping his thumb against them. The comforting rhythm would help so much, just one, two, three, four, repeat. One, two, three, four, repeat. Steady and certain.
"He," she said, pointing her thumb in Hal's direction, "asked me to help." She crossed her arms. "Last night," she added, nodding firmly. "So I'm helping." She seemed to think that settled it.
"Did he? 'Coz he asked me the same. And I've been doing it. All on me own." Here Tom crossed his own arms, having presented his bona fides.
Hal's worries for the two of them momentarily evaporated with a swell of anger. It was singularly humiliating to have to stand here quietly and listen to this. How dare they talk about him like he wasn't here? Did they value the trust he'd given them so little? He had asked for Tom's help in a moment of friendship. And with Annie... the cool tingle of her kisses was still fresh in his memory.
"Excuse me," he said, moving to step past Annie.
As one, she and Tom turned to look at him. "Where are you going?" Annie asked. "We're having a conversation."
"Yes, you are," Hal said. "But since I appear to be so very unnecessary, I think my time would be better spent brushing my teeth while you two divide the spoils." He crossed his own arms to match their confrontational poses. "That is," he continued, "of course, only if you can agree on that. What say you," he made a smooth gesture with his hand, sweeping the air between them, "should I be allowed to make such a momentous decision myself?"
As soon as he finished speaking he realized his mistake. He's just given them a common enemy: him. Their frustrations with each other were quickly turned to their new target. Tom frowned at him; Annie's jaw dropped. Annie spoke first, "But you asked for our help! And now you're sneering at us like this is our fault?"
Tom looked over at Annie, nodding along with her. "Yeah. What are you getting shirty with us for?"
Hal pressed his palms together and took a deep breath, striving for patience. "I do not appreciate being spoken about as if I were a wild animal you're obligated to control."
"But we ain't done that." Tom said, uncrossing his arms. He turning to Annie. "Have we, Annie?"
"Of course not," Annie said, giving Tom's shoulder a comforting pat.
"We're just trying to help ya." Tom said, the look of a hurt puppy about him.
"Yeah. Hal, be reasonable, you did ask..."
"I asked for your help. I did not ask for," he made a face, "this chaotic nonsense." Their expressions held only incomprehension. "I do everything -everything that I do, each insane ritual, every schedule, every task-to be more of a person. I do not wish to have the meager gains I have made be so- to be so diminished..." He raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed soothing little circles. "I did not ask for this!"
His outburst was met with stunned silence. Hal closed his eyes, feeling miserable and trapped. Perhaps there was only one mad person in this house, and it was merely Tom and Annie's great misfortune to bear with him.
"Ookay," Annie said, wringing her hands. "Something is going wrong here and we," she motioned between her and Tom, "don't understand so we're going to put on our listening caps and you're going to talk us through it. All right? Take as long as you need."
"But if you take too long none of it will matter anymore 'coz we'll be late for work," Tom threw in.
Annie gave him a little smack in the arm. "Listening caps, Tom." She mimed pulling a hat down over her head, "Listening caps!" Turning back to Hal, she smiled. "What do you want us to do?"
"I need," he said, using the stronger word, "for you both to agree."
Annie and Tom exchanged a glance.
"We can do that," she said. She flicked her fingers toward the bathroom door. "You brush," she put her arm around Tom's shoulder and steered him toward his bedroom, "and we'll talk."
vVv
Hal took his time, using the routine of brushing and flossing to calm his thoughts. The mirror above the sink reflected an empty room. He stood facing it anyway. Most vampires liked to imagine their lack of reflection was a twisted compliment: proof their evil was so great that the laws of nature herself recoiled in horror. Hal had himself had played up that angle for new recruits before. Privately, he thought it was bollocks. They were nothing more than a good object lesson in what people could do if they never had to look at themselves.
Over the years, he'd found other ways to face himself. He set aside the lies he used to tell himself. He made friends and tried to always give them the truth. They became a kind of mirror. But without them, he felt lost. When Leo and Pearl passed on, Hal had thought that the person he'd been with them would die too. Just disappear, the Invisible Man stripped of his bandages. Tom and Annie had kept that from happening.
That was more than enough. He could live without the rest. It was wrong to expect either of them to be able to do what Leo had done, when Hal himself couldn't even put a name to it. If they couldn't, it was just another comfort to be sacrificed. As long as they were here, it was enough.
Raising his hand to the mirror, Hal pressed his fingers against the cool surface. When let his hand drop, the smudges of his fingerprints remained. He carefully wiped them away.
vVv
They were in Tom's room, sitting on the bed. Tom had Eve cradled in the crook of his arm, and Annie was leaning in close, tickling Eve's tummy. The baby's hands flailed as she laughed. Hal felt his shoulders relax at the cozy scene. Looking closer, Hal saw that Annie had dressed Eve in the first outfit he'd embroidered for her. She seemed to have a soft spot for it. Seeing that made Hal feel part of the happy picture they made. It was a good feeling. He leaned in the doorway, enjoying the moment.
Soon enough Annie caught sight of him. "We worked out a plan," she said. "Together. Didn't we, Tom?"
"Yeah," Tom said.
"Do you want to tell him?" she offered.
"Go ahead."
"We worked out a compromise," she told Hal. "You two go into work," she made a walking motion with her fingers, "as usual, but from here on out you've got back up: me! Either of you can ring me up here and I'll pop over to pick you up."
"...pick me up?" He wasn't sure how that would work.
"Yeah. That's the tricky part. I think I can rent-a-ghost with you since you're, um..." she bit her lip, "not technically alive."
"I see," he said, amused by her apparent concern over offending him.
"But we've got to test it out first, see if it'll work," Tom said.
"You want to experiment on me." It was a discomforting thought, he had to admit. He'd envied Annie's ability to disappear earlier, but the thought of actually being taken along when she went 'rent-a-ghost'-ing (why did she call it that?) was not a good one.
Annie grimaced. Her earlier concern made sense to him now. He assumed she knew this was coming and suspected he wouldn't like it. That itself convinced him to go through with what they'd planned; they were surpassing his expectations and he felt he ought to surpass theirs as well.
"We've agreed," Tom said, "that if something goes wrong you can have a proper sick day."
"If I'm not proper dead," Hal observed wryly. It seemed fitting to him that there would be a cost for Annie and Tom's cooperation, and that he would be the one to pay it. Truthfully, Hal would have been more uncomfortable if there weren't such an obvious downside. He didn't trust things that came without a price.
"...you don't have to do it," Annie hastened to say. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. We could always figure something else out. I don't know what..." she trailed off, "but I know we could."
He didn't imagine they'd understand if he explained that he found the very discomfort of the situation reassuring, so he didn't try. "No. Please." He took a breath, extended his hands. "By all means, let's experiment."
She came over, taking his hands in her cool grasp. "Okay?"
He nodded.
Her grip tightened and then everything was gone. There was nothing around him anymore. All he could feel was Annie's presence tethering them together. He was pure awareness without protection, a wispy thought torn at from all sides, and if he lost focus for an instant...
Hal's body slammed back together, solid around him once more. He gasped, a drowning man resurfaced. Annie's hands slipped from his as she twirled and punched the air in celebration. Hal steadied himself with a hand on the mantelpiece, shuddering. He wondered if he'd just felt what it was like to be a ghost and, if so, how it was possible that Annie was still sane.
When her elation ebbed, Annie frowned at him. "You look peaky. Are you all right?"
It had been singularly terrifying. "I'm fine," he said.
She patted his hand. "Tom!" she called out. "We did it!"
When Hal looked up, Tom was in the doorway, smiling at the two of them. "Brilliant," he said, then glanced down at Eve. "Look what our Annie can do," he crooned, giving the baby a gentle bounce. Annie stepped over, grinning.
"Best you not do that trick in front of just anyone," Tom said, waving a hand between them. "Could come in handy in a fight."
"You really think so?" Annie said.
"Could be." He turned his attention to Hal. "Do the Old Ones know a vampire and a ghost can do that?"
"I didn't," Hal said. "And neither did they the last I was aware."
Tom nodded. "It'll be a good one to have up our sleeves, then. In war, surprise is the best tactical advantage." Reacting to their looks of surprised, he gave a self-deprecating shrug and added, "McNair used to say."
Hal regretted letting his surprise show. There had been a confidence in Tom as he spoke that they rarely saw. It should seem in conflict with the effortlessly gentle way he was holding Eve, but somehow the two felt natural together in him. Tom could plan war strategy and cuddle his little adoptive niece just as comfortably. Perhaps he would never be the most sophisticated of men, but there was much to be admired in him.
"I'm glad you're thinking like that, Tom." She nudged his shoulder. "We make a good team, huh?"
"Yeah," Tom mumbled, looking down. Hal could swear he saw a blush work its way across the young man's face. Tom cleared his throat, then tilted his head toward the clock. "We best get dressed," he said, backing out of the room. "Customers'll be waitin'." Then he was gone.
Annie turned to Hal. "You look better."
Hal released his death grip on the mantelpiece and straightened. "Yes." The three of them had found their footing. He knew he should feel good about that, and if he was too overwhelmed at the moment to feel it he should make a show of it anyway.
Annie stepped forward with a smile. "Great! How about another short trip?" she enthused, wiggling her outstretched fingers.
"No!" Hal stepped back, nearly stumbling. "Stop." He felt sick at the very thought.
Her wiggling fingers stilled, then her hand dropped. As did her fake enthusiasm. Looking him right in the eye now, she said: "That's all you have to say, you know? If you don't like something. That's all you ever have to say." Her eyes went to the bed. "You could have said that last night," she continued. Her expression was firm, but she was gripping her arm with her left hand, a self-protective gesture, and she wasn't meeting his eyes anymore.
"I didn't," he said.
"I know you didn't," Annie shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm saying you could have. I wouldn't have been angry."
"No," he shook his head, wishing he were better at this. "I didn't want you to stop."
"Oh!" She blinked, tilted her head. "But you seemed... upset."
"No. I... no. Just confused, when you said," he shrugged, "uh, what you said. About going to bed." He rubbed his thumb against the back of his fingers, feeling very exposed.
"Oh," she repeated.
Since the conversation was already unspeakably awkward, Hal took a chance. "When we," he gestured at the wall, "traveled. Is that what it's always like for you? As a ghost."
"Um, I don't know. What did you feel?"
It was hard to explain. "I've been at war with this," he touched his arm, "body for so long. But it's a home. And for a moment it was gone. I've-" he looked right at her, "I've never felt so cold."
Tears came into her eyes. "It's not always that bad," she whispered, wiping at them.
Hal felt as if her pain was inside him now, as if caring about her had physically connected them somehow. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something we could do."
"But you do," Annie said. "You really do. All of you." She paused. "It's just... you told me once that you were hanging on by your fingernails. Remember that?"
"Yeah." Not one of his most stellar moments.
"I know what that's like, that's all." She frowned. "Did you feel the storm?"
He had felt something like that. There had been a force, like high winds pressing against him, pushing and pulling. "Yes."
"I can feel that," she said. "All the time. I feel it howling outside. Trying to tear me apart. But, Hal, it's outside. It's not in here, not when I have you three. All of you make this a good place," her voice caught on the last two words. Tears came again and this time she didn't wipe them away. "Safe. This is a safe place." Her face was so kind and sad. "You're not a burden, you know? None of you. You and Tom and little Eve - you're my home."
Hal felt a swell of emotion, longing to touch her, make her words true. He had been so selfish. Last night he'd gone over the dangers of letting her reach out to him, examined her motives and everything that could go wrong. But he hadn't thought how much she might need someone to reach out to her. He wasn't alone in needing people to make him real. It was as if there was no mirror where Annie could find her reflection either.
He stepped over to her, gave her shoulder a squeeze and then let his hand drop. He was too unsettled to manage more contact than that just now, but he hoped it would help. Searching around for something else he could do, he remembered... "You made a list!"
"Huh?"
"You made a list of things for me to do," he explained. "For today."
"That! Oh, hey, don't worry about that." She rolled her eyes, "You know me and lists. I'm always making one."
"I could do it this weekend, though. If you like." He could do that. He could always do that, regardless of where his head was at, and it would be good for both of them. He didn't know how to say it, but he wanted her to understand that.
"I would," she said. "I would like that." Then she smiled. She'd been smiling all morning, trying to make things better. But this one was real. He wasn't sure how he could tell, but he felt it. There was something about the way her eyes crinkled up. She looked so alive. He felt warmed inside by the sight, filled up by the joy of her joy, so much that his own lips curved up in response.
She darted forward, kissing him on the cheek. He drew in a quick breath, but before he could say anything, she'd travelled away, 'rent-a-ghosting' to some other part of the house. Hal touched his face, lingering in the sweetness of her kiss, then set about getting ready for work.
-end-
"When you have nobody to make a cup of tea for, when nobody
needs you, that's when I think life is truly over."
-Audrey Hepburn