First fic in a new fandom! This should become a one-shot collection so you can look forward to more~
I was inspired by a piece of fanart by Tumblr user ninuuska of Jemima keeping Humphrey's head company. Set sometime during series 1, roughly, but contains some spoilers for episode 1 of series 3, if you haven't been able to watch it yet
It's Lonely Being Alone
Her finger traced across her arm, blemished with sores and welts that never changed. Never in over two hundred years. Singing the same old song.
"Ring-a-ring-a-rosies, a pocket full of posies... A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall-"
Jemima suddenly gasped as something came skidding across the floor of the kitchen, emitting an odd sound almost like screaming, and slid right in between the gap in the door to her pantry. She jumped slightly, and her doll fell from her lap. When it materialised back in its place, she clutched it to her chest and crawled forward to look at the something. Only it wasn't a something, but a someone. The head man.
He rolled a little and finally came to a stop, rocking side to side for a second or two, then huffed and blinked.
Then he looked up at her and noticed her wide eyes.
"Oh! Excuse me, love, didn't mean to startle you. Nothing to worry about, Thomas was just getting a little bit over excited again," he gave a short, light-hearted chuckle, then paused and frowned, "Sorry, I just interrupted your singing, didn't I? Nice song. A bit bleak, in terms of subject matter, of course, but you've a lovely little voice, nonetheless."
Jemima allowed herself a small, shy, smile, "... Thank you, sir..." she muttered, "... Aren't you afraid of me?"
The head man's brow creased again, now looking more sympathetic.
"Afraid? No, no, you're quite alright," he assured her.
Jemima tucked her doll under her arm and got up on her knees. She gingerly reached out towards the head, hesitating for a moment before she touched him.
"Um..."
"You can pick me up, it's fine. I don't bite!"
With that, Jemima lifted up the head and carefully set him back down, upright this time, on the stump of his neck, on the floor in front of her. She moved to sit cross-legged and waited as he scoped out his surroundings.
"Ooh, this is new! Not often someone actually props me up like this. A nice change, eh?"
Jemima didn't answer.
"It's, uh, Jemima, isn't it? I've overheard the Captain talking to you once or twice."
She nodded, "Yes."
The head man smiled, "Well, it's nice to meet you officially, Jemima. You can call me Humphrey, no need for formalities and the like."
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say next; she only had one question on her mind.
"Why aren't you scared of me?"
"Well, to be honest with you, I don't see what's so scary about you. Maybe a little bit unnerving at times, but 'scary' seems a bit strong."
"The others are scared of me."
"Well, maybe they haven't seen anything scarier."
Now her curiosity was piqued and she leaned closer, almost whispering, "Have you?"
"I'd say my final moments served me enough fear to last my entire afterlife..." he said, trailing off, remembering something long forgotten. He blinked and looked back at Jemima, "I don't think I've ever even told the others that story."
"... Would you tell me? Please."
"It might be a bit dark for a child your age," he warned, but he had to admit, he was eager to share. No-one had ever been interested before.
"I did die, too."
"So you did. Very well, then," he cleared his throat (at least what was still attached to his head) and began, "My wife, Sophie, and I had married when she was probably not much older than you are. Or were. You know what I mean. It wasn't such a happy marriage. Not our choice, you see. She was French, and neither of us cared to learn much of each other's language. Looking back, I could've made more of an effort there, but anyway. She got involved in a plot to kill Queen Elizabeth, and passed off a meeting as a book club. But in the end, they were found out. And I also found out around the same time."
"How?"
Humphrey faltered for a moment; he wasn't used to people paying him enough attention to ask questions.
"Uh, well, somebody had dropped a letter, or hidden it and I accidently found it. I was angry, of course, but more because of the threat to us if they were caught. I was afraid for my own safety, yes, but I was just as afraid for her, if not more. Just because we weren't in love with each other doesn't mean I didn't care about her. And in the end, she was the one who would really suffer the consequences, so it was more important to help her escape. I bought her some time to run. Held the door shut until I realised it was most likely a fruitless effort. I tried to find something to defend myself with, but I couldn't get the swords off the mantel, so I ended up just shoving myself up the chimney flue. I was all alone, fearing for my life, risking everything just to make sure Sophie was safe. I don't even know if she did ever escape. I don't know if she ever thought of me after that. If she tried to contact me. If she knew I died..."
Jemima was completely enthralled by now, and Humphrey was surprised to look back up and find her wide eyes only a few inches from his face.
"So, how did you die?"
There was a pause, then he gave a short, nervous laugh.
"Well, you see, that part actually gets a bit embarrassing," he admitted, "The queen's guards came in, looked around, and left so I jumped down from the chimney. Thought I'd actually gotten away with my life and made the stupid mistake of giving the mantel a good thump. 'Course, you remember, the swords right above me would be a little loose after I tried to pull 'em off. Can you guess how I died now?"
"... They fell down and chopped your head off?"
He closed his eyes and sighed, "They fell down and chopped my head off," he opened his eyes again, "Absolutely bloody ridiculous."
"But you did save your wife."
"I did, yes. Still rather proud of that," he smiled sadly, and she smiled back. He paused again, "... Though, come to think of it, the scariest part was after I woke up. You know Robin? The caveman one?" Jemima nodded, "Well, you know, he's always been around, and he found me. I screamed right in his face, but you can't really blame me, he is quite a sight," he smiled when that earned a small giggle from the child, "He tried to explain everything but he was even less articulate than he is now, and I was in a right state anyway, so nothing was really going in. So he just gave up and left me to calm down. He did come back later, but before he did, the rest of me woke up..."
He tried to steady his breathing, but that only brought the question to mind of how he was even breathing in the first place. And if he was actually breathing at all. He couldn't be, could he? He was clearly dead. And what's more, his body was lying motionless beside him. Where was all that air going? Certainly not his lungs.
His hand twitched and Humphrey stopped thinking altogether. He stared in awe as his hands slowly started to move, feeling around the floor. They pushed down and he staggered to his feet.
Or rather, a vision of him staggered to his feet. The physical body remained still where it lay, but this headless, transparent spectre rose up as if he had only tripped and fell. Then, before Humphrey's very eyes, the figure seemed to glow as it reached out blindly. A faint light emanated from it, flowing upwards, as if towards Heaven. He looked up, as far as he could, to see the same light rising from his head. For a moment, Humphrey suspected he was about to pass on to whatever was next for him, but all of a sudden, the light was sucked back down, the force of it causing his body to stumble back a few steps, and his head to wince. The light evaporated and the ghost solidified.
His hands reached out again, then froze. They retracted, slowly rising towards the space his head had once filled.
"I-I... I'm down here...!" Humphrey called to himself, to no avail, "I'm right here!"
No response. His hands hit the base of his neck and began to shake. They waved frantically through the air. Nothing.
"Hey...! It's alright, just... just bend down, I'm right in front of you...!"
It seemed his body couldn't hear him. That made sense, seeing as he had the ears, but it still sent a chill through him. The ghostly body continued to stagger around the room and Humphrey gasped when it was about to walk right into the wall, not sure if he would still feel its pain, only for it to phase right through. His body disappeared on the other side and he was left alone, with the real thing, dead and unmoving, at his side.
"I'll tell you, my dear, that was the most frightening thing I've experienced. And I've had a lot of time since then to get used to it. It's a painful memory, of course. I don't much like thinking about it. But, all that to say, no, I don't believe I am afraid of you."
"... Oh."
"So, uh, what about you? I mean, I know you haven't been here as long as that lot down in the plague pit, but I don't think I remember seeing you around much even when you were alive. I might have been a bit stuck somewhere and missed something, but I should think there must've been... others? Who died with you. Of course, if you'd rather not talk about it, I completely understand. I suppose I'm just curious."
Jemima slowly drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She stared off into the distance and Humphrey got the idea she might not want to, and was about to assure her it was alright and change the subject when she spoke.
"I was a scullery maid," she started. Her eyes were fixed ahead, like she was looking through her own past, reliving it, and Humphrey could already tell how much effort it was taking her to even begin the story, "For the Higham family."
"Higham?" Humphrey interrupted and she stirred from her trance, "They owned the house when Thomas was alive, didn't they? Had a daughter called Isabelle?"
Jemima nodded, "She was born not long after I died. Only a few years..." she shifted back to a cross-legged position, a little more present now, before continuing, "There had been a flare up of the plague in the neighbouring village, but none of the grownups told me. They didn't want to go there themselves, so they sent me out on their errands one morning."
Humphrey tutted, and likely would've shaken his head if he could, "Heartless..."
"They could be more heartless than that," Jemima's eyes met his, cold and unforgiving, before dropping down to her lap and the doll she was fidgeting with, "After a few days, I fell ill, and the other servants didn't want to come near me. In case they caught it, too. The worse it got, the more scared they were of me. And then, they just left me. They moved everything they could to the other kitchen and stopped using this one. I tried calling out but they never came. I think they pretended they couldn't hear me. So I'd just talk, and sing to myself. Until I died."
She fell silent, and Humphrey wasn't sure what to say at first.
"... I'm so sorry, Jemima. And I know it hasn't been much easier for you since you woke up."
"No. I did meet some of the other ghosts, but they didn't like to be around me, either. When Miss Isabelle was little, she heard me, and I thought maybe I would have a friend my own age. But she only heard me sing. She couldn't hear me talk. And she would tell everyone about how creepy I was, and how scared she was of my kitchen. I think people still don't use this kitchen because of me..."
Humphrey looked at her sadly, "Oh, you poor thing... It's a shame the others haven't been more welcoming to you, you must be so lonely in here by yourself."
Jemima dropped her head and sniffed, forcing her tears not to fall, "Very lonely."
"Well, you know you've got a friend in me," Humphrey said gently, sincerely, "I understand how it feels being left out."
"... Thank you... Mr. Humphrey..."
He smiled and, seemingly trying to lighten the mood, glanced at her doll.
"You do already have a little friend there, I see. Care to introduce me?"
Finally smiling a genuinely happy smile, Jemima sat the doll squarely in her lap, facing Humphrey, and waved its little straw arm at him.
The two carried on talking for quite some time until it seemed they were running out of things to say. It would be getting late soon, anyway, and Humphrey wouldn't want to keep the young girl up.
"Would you mind doing me a small favour before you head off to sleep?" he asked and she nodded, "We can go on a little adventure of sorts, see if we can find the rest of me?"
"OK," she shifted onto her knees again and picked him up
"Thank you kindly, Jemima."
She hadn't been upstairs since the failed haunting and it was rather unfamiliar territory to Jemima for the most part, but it wasn't difficult to track down the other ghosts. Just follow the sound of manic bickering, really.
The Captain heaved a sigh and turned away from the group only to catch sight of a certain someone lurking in the doorway, eyes fixed on the bickering spectres. He jumped, as did the others when they saw her.
"Jemima!" He was about to demand she explain herself when he was interrupted by a familiar, cheerful voice.
"Evening, all!"
Everyone spun back around to face the little girl, for once willing to give her some attention, and in particular the grinning head cradled within her arms. In stark contrast to Humphrey's good mood, though, Jemima was scowling at them all.
"You left him again," she said simply, and they all looked away, shuffling their feet, "It isn't nice to be left alone."
When none of them responded, she let her sights shift to the headless ghost standing idly by the window. Lost and alone. They all watched as she made her way over to him, transferred his head into the crook of one arm, then reached for his hand. She gave it a gentle tug and the body turned towards her, curious. She lifted his head up and his hands, almost instinctively, came to help her as she rose up on her tiptoes. Humphrey leaned down, taking his head from her to snap it back into place. He grunted slightly, then flinched and rolled his neck, just to make sure everything was reattached as it should be, and all the while Jemima waited by his side, her hands out ready to catch him if needed. The other ghosts stayed silent.
"Ah, that's much better," Humphrey sighed in relief, "Thank you, sweetheart, you've been a big help," he gave Jemima a light pat on the head, "I'll be sure to come and visit you again, alright? Goodnight, now."
"Goodnight, Mr. Humphrey," Jemima said with a short curtsy. She then turned sharply and exited the room, every ghost but Humphrey refusing to take their eyes off her until she was gone. Humphrey himself, on the other hand, was smiling warmly.
When they turned back to look at him in question, he just shrugged, "She's a lovely girl, really. I dare say you lot could stand to spend a bit more time with her," he gave them all a pointed look, then turned and headed for the wall.
Mere seconds after he had phased through, there was a light thud, a muffled voice, then the sound of something rolling across the floor, all followed by-
"Oh, you have got to be joking...!"
