OOM: Ghosts of Christmas

[the_gene_genie]

There was nowhere else he could spend Christmas this year, even if it means he'll have to put up with the whole thing twice. It's been OK though. Alex is sad about Molly, of course, but seems to be happy he's here. They'd spent Christmas Eve lazing about, drinking quite a lot and putting everything behind them for a bit.

So it's a bit of a surprise to be woken up by a light in the room. A light where there shouldn't be one. Gene sits up, and runs a hand over his face. 

'Who're you, then? If you've come for an eyeful, you can sod off.'

Bloody Milliways.

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[christmas_future]

The ghost merely stands silently behind him, the hem of her cloak rippling in the slightest breeze.

From whence does it come? Surely no mortal can say.

Neither can the ghost. Her only answer lies in the strength of her grip upon Gene's wrist and the shadows that move to cloak their passage.

[the_gene_genie]

And he's glad, so glad, that he didn't have to ask to be taken away. He's got enough to think about without feeling like a ponce as well. And when his room at Milliways comes back into view, he has to force himself not to sag with relief.

The ghost gets a glance, maybe two. It's hard to know how to talk to something that can't, or won't. But it seems wrong to just ignore it.

'We done then?'

[christmas_future]

The ghost makes no reply, bone-cold hand falling away from Gene's.

Then she steps away into shadow, and is gone.

[the_gene_genie]

For the longest time, he just stands in the room. It's nice, in the dark, listening to Alex breathe. If he focuses on that, he doesn't have to think about what he just saw.

But he has to move eventually. His body is tired, but his brain's too busy to rest. So he sits, with a cigarette and a large drink, and tries to process what happened.

Everything points to him going home. And that's OK. He knew that. The thing with his mother, though - he doesn't know how to figure that out. At least, not without dredging up a whole lot of things he really doesn't want to touch. But it's not going to leave him alone.

It's been a long night already. Looks like it's going to last a while yet.

[lady_bols]

Her eyes open, bleary with sleep, and for a moment, his absence makes her heart clench. And then she smells cigarette smoke. She pushes herself up to her elbows, peering into the darkness for his silhouette. But no, he's just pacing again. 'Gene? Come back to bed, love...'

[the_gene_genie]

He half-turns at the sound of her voice. For a moment, he just looks at her outline in the dark, the tale of the night on the tip of his tongue.

But it's the middle of the night, and she's sleepy. And he wouldn't know how to start.

'Yeah.'

It just takes a minute to stub his fag out, and lose his clothes. He slips in beside her, and pulls her gently to his chest. She's so warm, and sleep fuzzy. It's better than any conversation.

'...back to sleep, sweet'eart.'

[lady_bols]

She wraps him around her like a cloak, one arm under her chin, the other wrapped around her middle, nestling her bum back against his hips.

'Love you,' she murmurs, and with a long, contented sigh, she does as he asks.

[the_gene_genie]

He smiles into her hair, and presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder. He toys with the idea of saying something, but then she's asleep.

His mind goes back to his future, as shown to him. Still working, alone, way into the future. Right now, lying here, he's not sure that's what he wants. But he can't fathom the idea of giving it up either.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe he can keep doing it, because she's here.

It's not a bad thought to drift away on.