"You have to sleep. You'll make yourself sick if you don't. I'll stay with you, I promise. Lie down, love.” Percy put his hand on Alastair's chest, exerting just a slight amount of pressure.
"I can feel that,” Alastair said happily, letting Percy push him down. “I don't understand it, but I love you and I'm not going to question it.” He lay back on Percy's pillow. “Don't leave me, my love,” he said softly, eyes already closing. “Lie with me."
Percy settled himself beside Alastair. He didn't understand it all completely, but he didn't sink through the bed. He rested his head on Alastair's chest, sliding one arm around him. “I won't leave you. I swear it."
"Love you. My Percy,” mumbled Alastair as he drifted off to sleep.
Percy, however, didn't need sleep. But he didn't mind it, lying with Alastair. He could hear his even breathing, and it soothed him.
When the first rays of morning seeped in through the curtains, he felt Alastair stirring beside him. He smiled at him, leaning back to watch his face. “Sleep well?” he asked.
Alastair opened his eyes, looking straight at Percy. “It wasn't a dream,” he whispered. “You're still here.” He ran his hand up Percy's still-ghostly arm.
"I told you I would be.” One thing Percy felt fairly sure of was that he was going nowhere any time soon. There was no doorway to the afterlife, no stairway to heaven that he'd seen. He leaned close and kissed Alastair's lips.
Alastair moaned softly and drew Percy into his arms. “You feel more solid than last night,” he breathed.
Percy shifted, leaning his elbows on Alastair's chest, propping his head on his hands. “Am I? It could be all in your head, you know. Not my being here, but the solidity factor."
Alastair raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps,” he acknowledged. Then he smirked. “There is, of course, a way to test that."
Percy arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what would that be?” he asked. He couldn't imagine that anything about his situation would stand up to empirical investigation.
"Have you tried to affect anything physical? Move an object?"
"Just touching you. Shall I try it, then?” he asked. This new existence was surely not without drawbacks, but as long as he could be with Alastair, and perhaps confront the bastard that robbed him of his life, it would be enough.
Alastair nodded. “Something light, perhaps? Small, easy to move?” He sat up and stretched.
Percy sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking around. He spotted a book lying on the dresser, and walked over to it. He glanced back at Alastair. “Watch the book,” he said, turning back to it. He smoothed his hand over the cover, then concentrated all his energy on lifting it open.
At first his finger passed right through it. Finally, he managed to flip it up and open. He turned to Alastair with a victorious smile.
Alastair smiled back. “Excellent!” he praised. “That's very good. You'll be moving furniture around in no time."
Percy laughed. “Oh right. I think I'll leave the redecorating to you and Zelda.” He walked back over to the bed and sat down. “I think I can hover. Would you like to see?” he asked.
Alastair nodded, gaze fixed on Percy. “Please. Hover, my love."
Percy laughed at Alastair's response. He took a breath and lifted off the ground. He floated above Alastair's head, his ghostly clothing fluttering slightly. He came to settle on the bed beside him, on his side with a grin. “That's quite interesting, isn't it?"
Alastair raised an eyebrow. “I could think of all sorts of uses for that kind of talent,” he nodded.
"Could you indeed? Tell me of these uses, my love,” he purred, stroking his thumb over Alastair's lips.
"Well,” Alastair began, a contemplative look on his face. “That depends on how much more solid you can manage to become..."
Percy closed his eyes and tried hard to be solid flesh. He opened his eyes again and held his hand up to look at it. “Do I look any more solid to you?” he asked. “I can't tell."
Alastair reached out slowly. “I think I could tell better if I touched you,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Percy's lips twitched. “Are you asking permission? No need to stand on ceremony, love. We've just been sharing our lives for nearly a dozen years, you know."
Alastair ran his fingers over Percy's still-ghostly face. “Tell me what you feel,” he breathed.
Percy gazed into Alastair's eyes. “I feel your fingers,” he whispered. “Touching my face. What do you feel?"
"I feel your skin,” Alastair replied. “Almost solid. Warm.” His eyes were half-lidded.
It was erotic the way Alastair touched him. He had to wonder if ghosts could experience the same sort of sensations. He turned his head, parting his lips to take Alastair's finger into his mouth.
Alastair gasped quietly. “I can feel that,” he said. “It feels just like your mouth.” The implication was left unsaid.
Percy pulled back, licking his lips. “Does it feel wet?” he asked. “I wonder...” He swallowed. His mouth felt perfectly moist to him, but it hardly made sense that it would feel that was to anyone else.
"When my finger was in your mouth, yes, it felt wet and hot."
"There's another experiment we must conduct. Ring for tea,” he said, smirking. He wasn't sure if Alastair's mind was working the same way his was, but he suspected it would soon enough.
Alastair did as Percy asked, and soon there was a small knock at the door. Alastair looked at Percy and said, “I assume you won't be visible?"
Percy stepped out of the way and faded into nothingness a moment later. “You assume correctly,” he whispered, speaking mostly to reassure Alastair that he was still there.
Alastair let the man in and waited quietly while the tea was set up. The man left and he looked up. “Percy?"
Percy gradually materialized again, sitting beside Alastair on the bed. “Now, pour me a cup, would you? A pot full of tea might be just a little beyond my abilities."
"Cream and sugar?” Alastair asked, smirking, as he poured a cup.
"Not necessary. I doubt I'll be able to taste it, anyway.” Percy's brows drew together as he concentrated on the teacup, picking it up gingerly in both hands. “Just watch that I don't drop it,” he said, bringing the cup up to his lips.
Alastair watched carefully. “Well, if you drop it, at least it won't hurt you."
Percy delicately tipped the cup against his lips, trying to drink. The hot liquid went down his throat and kept going, passing through his transparent body to drip onto the floor. He put the cup down and looked down at himself. “Hmm. Right. Well.” None was spilled on him, of course. “Sorry for the mess."
Alastair smirked. “That didn't quite work out, did it."
"No, but it was predictable, I suppose.” He looked at Alastair. “I was just wondering, well I'm sure you can imagine what I was wondering."
Alastair swallowed hard. “I think we were wondering the same thing,” he nodded. “But I can feel your touch. Surely...?"
Percy smirked . “I suppose there's only one way to find out. But let me seek out other ghosts. Maybe I can get more information.” He kissed Alastair on the cheek. “You have a funeral to plan, unfortunately. But I won't be long, love. I can move about quite quickly."
Alastair made as if to embrace Percy, only partially succeeding. “Any last minute instructions for the funeral?” he asked with amusement.
Percy laughed at that. “I hadn't thought about planning it myself, actually. Imagine that. Try to look bereft. I'd like people to think my lover actually misses me,” he teased.
"Well of course I am bereft,” Alastair said, looking serious. “This is not how I wished to spend the rest of our life together, though I am more grateful than you will ever know that it is not truly the end."
Percy smiled. “As am I, my love. So long as I can speak to you and touch you it will be enough.” He stood up. “And now I take my leave, as briefly as I can manage.” With that, he faded into n
othing.
Percy roamed through the castle, seeking out his own kind. He found he could easily pass through walls. He did nothing to affect the physical plane as he went, not wishing to alarm anyone. He was content to be seen only by Alastair, though he would miss his son, dearly. He wished he could comfort the boy. Perhaps a way would present itself. And Zelda.
He searched every room that he knew about, finding nothing until he reached the nursery. David had never spent much time in there, as they spent most of their time in London. But the room was not unoccupied. By the window was a woman, wraith-like and pitiful. He knew who she was. “Mother?” he asked.
The ghostly woman was sobbing, seemingly oblivious to anything around her.
Percy frowned. “Mother!” he said, nearly stamping his foot. He strode forward and touched her shoulder, finding it surprisingly solid. “Did you hear me?” he asked.
The woman looked up in shock. “Percival!” She gasped, reaching out to touch him. “You are...” Fresh sobs wracked her small frame. “If I can touch you, you are..."
"Dead. Yes. Spot of bad luck, that. Chandelier fell on me. Made an awful mess in the hall. You wouldn't happen to know who might have shaken it loose, do you?” he asked.
Her eyes went wide as saucers. “He didn't!"
Percy frowned. “He who?” he asked. “Is it the same one that's been tormenting me for half my life?” he asked. He had rarely thought of the ghost since he had first learned of him. His antics had been more annoying than malevolent. Until...
"I tried,” Sophia said, sniffling. “I tried at first to reason with him, but he will not reveal himself, even to other spirits. Maximillian is a horrible man!"
"Maximillian? Isn't that the fourteenth earl? Are you saying one of my own bloody ancestors murdered me?” he asked, astonished.
Sophia shook her head. “He's always been a horrible bother, but I never thought he would do such a thing. What happened, my poor sweet boy? I should have protected you."
Percy blinked. It was a lot of information to take in. “Weak link, I suppose. Which would have been fine if it hadn't been rattled.” He scowled. “Have you been here all this time? By yourself in this room?"
Sophia shrugged. “Sometimes, I wander the halls. I used to watch you but it made me too sad. Here, in your nursery, I am comforted.” She turned to gaze around the room.
Like a dutiful son, Percy loved his mother. But he could tell her problems could lead to much hand-wringing and bemoaning, and perhaps he had an eternity to get to that. “So, can you appear to people?” he asked. “Can you move objects like he can?"
She blinked. “Why would I want to do such things?” she asked. “But it can be done. I just never saw the point...” she started to drift off.
Percy frowned. He reached out for her. “Mother, I need your guidance. Please sit still. Can you seem to be solid to the living if you choose to?” he asked.
"Yes. It is very difficult, and will only work with someone you have very close ties to..."
A little thrill ran through Percy at the thought. “Do you get better at these kinds of things over time?” he asked. Suddenly, he was desperate to know everything. “Can you show yourself to one person and not another in the same room?"
"Yes,” Sophia answered. “Though I do not see why you would wish to lower yourself to such parlor tricks."
Percy smirked. He'd always known that his mother didn't know him very well. In fact, he hadn't spoken to her as often as he might've tried. “Perhaps to bring comfort to my family? Have you seen your grandson, mother?” he asked. “And my wife?"
Sophia shook her head. “Only from afar. I do not wish to intrude among the living. It only makes me sad."
"Do you not think him a fine lad?” he asked, almost a protest. “I have often longed for your approval. I thought at least your own grandchild would bring you happiness.” He knew it was pointless, and that her sadness was not his fault.
Sophia wiped at her eyes with a ghostly handkerchief. “I never thought I would have a grandchild,” she said. “At least not after..."
"Not after what?” he asked. He was certain his mother knew about him, especially after what he'd found out about his father. But he couldn't think of any specific time he'd flaunted his preferences in her face. She'd been gone before he got old enough to really know.
Sophia looked away. “I am just pleased that you have an heir. Your father would be proud.” She gave a little sob at the mention of him.
Percy sighed. There was obviously no cheering her up. “Why are you still here if you don't want to be with any of the living?” he asked.
"I thought it was because of you,” Sophia answered, looking sorrowfully at her ghostly son. “But now I do not know. Perhaps it is my lot in life, and death, to suffer.” She slumped back to the windowsill and sobbed.
Percy did his best not to roll his eyes. “So there's no way to know, then. Lovely.” He sighed. He wanted to tell her so much, but it would be pointless. “One last thing. Is there any way to make someone feel like you are nearby without revealing yourself to them?” He wanted to comfort David and Gwen somehow. He would save his energy for Alastair, though.
"I believe so,” nodded Sophia. “I tried it once. But you got so sad. I don't think it works for me."
"You tried? With me?” he asked. He was astonished. He would never have expected his mother to rouse herself from her own troubles long enough to have a thought for him.
Sophia nodded. “I just wanted to see you. It was soon after I ... died. I came into your room when you were home, and I could not bear the sight of you upset. So I left, and decided not to seek you out again. Occasionally I watch, but from afar. From my window."
"It's normal to be sad when someone dies, mother.” He frowned. “I must go. I have to find this Maximillian person if I can."
Sophia gasped. “No! You must not seek him out! He is dangerous!"
At that Percy did snort. “You're speaking to someone he murdered. I think I know how dangerous he is. But I don't care. What can he do to me now?” Of course he could still harm those he loved. Perhaps he was still there to protect them.
Sophia looked down and sniffled. “I failed you once again, my son. I am sorry. I was a failure at being both a wife and a mother."
Percy crouched beside her. “Mother, it was not your fault,” he said gently. “It was wrong of Father to deceive you into thinking he could give you what you needed. I didn't do that, Mother. I found a lovely girl who did not desire me. So that she could find happiness with another, as I have. Because I could not bear to hurt someone as he hurt you."
Sophia looked up at him and frowned. “I do not understand."
Percy felt like squirming. “Just as...” He bit his lip. “Just as my father and I prefer the company of men, so does my wife prefer the company of other women."
Sophia looked shocked. “There are women that...” She looked away. “It's wrong. I do not understand how anyone can..."
Percy wrinkled his nose. “Don't think about it too much. Suffice it to say that my wife has a companion to keep her happy, and we are an odd little family of five."
Sophia looked at her hands. “I am glad you are happy. Were happy. I do not remember what it was to be happy.” She looked up, fading even more.
She was depressing to be around, and Percy couldn't actually remember her being happy. “I shall see you soon, then. Goodbye, Mother.” He turned and walked, though he could as easily have drifted if he'd wanted to.
Percy took another tour around the house, trying to sense the fourteenth Earl, but he was unsuccessful at finding him. By the time he returned to Alastair, he was in the study, discussing the arrangements with Percy's long-time lawyer. Percy found a comfy spot in a chair off to the side, remaining invisible so he could listen.
"You realize that the earl gave you full executive power over his entire estate and the fortune of his son,” he man said. “He must have trusted you a great deal, Mr. Kent."
A
lastair nodded gravely. “And I intend to follow all his wishes to the letter,” he replied. “I am honored by the trust he placed in me. And I love his son as if he were my own."
The man narrowed his eyes as if sizing Alastair up for a moment, then nodded. “I took the liberty of investigating your circumstances, Mr. Kent. My family has served the earldom for generations, and I felt it my duty. But I believe you shall be a fair guardian. Now, to the arrangements for the funeral. There is a family plot on the grounds, of course. The monument will be constructed within the year to your and the countess’ specifications. Will a brief ceremony in the chapel, followed by a procession to the internment place be sufficient?” he asked.
Percy folded his arms over his chest. “He could sound a little more choked up about it,” he mumbled, not meaning to speak aloud.
Alastair's eyes widened but he didn't look around as he replied, “Yes. I think he would have liked a brief ceremony. Though tasteful."
Percy noticed Alastair's reaction. “Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but then again, it is my funeral you're discussing. Tasteful, hm? Like a black carriage drawn by black horses, plenty of weeping women. Oh I suppose it wouldn't do to ask you to tell a few people. No, no, never mind. I suppose they'll have to read it in the papers."
Before he could finish, the lawyer stood. “Very good, Mr. Kent. I shall see to it. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon everything can be made ready."
Alastair stood as well, not looking where Percy's voice was emanating from. “I will endeavor to be at your disposal to discuss business matters. I certainly don't plan to make any changes. Thank you."
"Very good. I shall keep in touch,” the lawyer said with a brief nod. He let himself out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Percy instantly materialized in the chair, legs crossed, looking relaxed. “Did I tell you I left you all my money?” he asked. “You might have noticed I have quite a knack for investments. No doubt you'll see it when you eventually are bored enough to look at the books.” He smiled at Alastair. “Miss me?"
Alastair came over to stand in front of Percy. “It came as a bit of a shock, yes. But now you can continue to advise me,” he added with a smile.
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