simple twist of fate

by red-starshine

part eight: the sound of sinners

Chas watched the soul dissipate, and then turned to John, who was still sitting on the floor, staring at him in complete surprise. It was slightly disconcerting.

"I don't like that look on your face," said Chas, shifting uncomfortably under John's stare. "What's wrong?"

John let out a short huff of astonishment as he stood up. "Nothing's wrong," he said, his eyes still wide, like something impossible had just happened in front of his eyes and he still couldn't believe it had really happened. "You got him to cross over. That's good. Great, actually."

Something about this wasn't making sense to Chas. "Then why are you staring at me like that?"

"You got a soul going poltergeist to cross over," John repeated slower, a grin spreading across his face. "Just by talking to him."

"Yeah." Chas glanced at John quizzically. "Isn't that what you told me to do? Talk him down?"

John rolled his eyes, like Chas was purposefully missing his point. "I wanted you to distract him so I could do my magic without him ripping the TV off the wall and throwing it at my face. I didn't think Cooke would just...bugger off to the afterlife like that."

Chas looked at John again, confusion written all over his face. "But that's the point, right?"

"Well, yes and no," said John, sticking his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. "Yes, the end result is supposed to be his soul over in the afterlife instead of scaring the shit out of his mum, but when a soul starts to turn bad like that, it's...difficult to persuade them to cross over voluntarily." Chas started to open his mouth, but John cut him off before he could speak. "And that was voluntary, I was still in the middle of my invocation when he crossed."

"What's that mean?"

"Means you did better than I'd thought you would," said John, giving Chas an appraising look. "But look sharp, we've still go-"

The door to Cooke's room banged open, and John flinched, stepping away from the door as the younger doctor they'd seen in Tess's room and one of the nurses entered the room. The nurse's foot caught on the tray table Cooke had thrown at John, which was still lying on the floor, and she stumbled, almost falling into the doctor's back.

"Let's go," said John quietly, slipping into the hallway, unseen by the doctor or nurse.

Chas pushed the tray table out of the way of the door with his foot, and then followed John back into the hall of the ICU.

"As I was saying, we've got a little bit of time before our last appointment here," said John. He flicked the top of his lighter.

"And then what?" said Chas.

"That's really up to you, mate," said John, his voice carefully neutral as he flicked the top of his lighter open and closed again. "You can go back to your old life, say that the authorities misidentified your body. A bureaucrat screwing up somewhere is a lot more plausible than you coming back from the dead, after all. You could pick up from where you left off."

Chas stayed quiet. Funny how that seemed less appealing now than it had only a few short hours ago.

"Or," John continued, opening the doors leading out of the ICU. "You could stay on with me, use these skills as you have. I'm not going to lie - you're bloody useful in this line of work, and very nice to look at, too."

Chas glanced at him in amusement, one eyebrow raised.

"What? You're not exactly an unattractive man," said John with a sly grin that was starting to grow on Chas. "And it's been a while since I've had a conversation with anyone that wasn't centered around their inevitable impending death, let alone had someone buy me a drink." His eyes were warm when he glanced at Chas. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Chas looked away. If John had asked him that question when he'd first woken up in the morgue, maybe it would've been easier for him to make the choice, maybe not - but he would've gone back to his old life. Now, after everything he'd seen since then, what he'd done, he found it difficult to consider completely turning his back on it, turning his back on the man who had brought him from the dead, showed him another world

And John wasn't rough on the eyes either. Chas blamed the blond hair - he'd always liked how blond hair looked, and John's hair was a rich golden-brown color. Almost like honey.

John straightened up. "Again, it's your choice. You don't have to make up your mind right now," he said. "But I do have one question for you."

"What?"

John looked up at him. "Was anyone in your family psychic, could they see ghosts, or had any kind of magic? Because you seem to have a talent for this that I can't quite explain other than heredity, since it's bloody obvious you're not trained in magic at all."

Chas began to shake his head 'no', then froze. "Um."

"Um?" said John when Chas didn't say anything else. "Something you want to share, Chas?"

Chas looked down at the floor. It seemed safer than looking at John, who seemed to notice everything, no matter how small. "My mother worked as a medium. When I was a kid." He paused, thinking about things he'd tried very hard to forget since his mother had died. "I thought she was just bilking people out of their money and making everything up, but she had people come from all over for her seances."

"Huh. Now there's something to think about," said John. "Maybe she wasn't as full of it as you'd thought."

Chas tried not to shudder, which John picked up on. Thankfully, he changed the subject instead of asking Chas any more questions about his mother. "I'm going to go mad if I keep this 'don't pay attention to us' spell up for much longer," John said, pulling out the keys to the House of Mystery. "You mind if we head back to my place for a bit?"

Chas shook his head. "That's fine."

John unlocked a door marked 'SUPPLY CLOSET' with one of the keys. The door opened into the now-familiar main room of the House.

"After you, mate," said John.