[APH minor characters] Beauxreves Mansion
Title: Beauxreves Mansion
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Romance, Horror (genres subject to change, yeah)
Word Count: idek my bff jill.
Rating/Warnings: R (to be safe)
Summary: If you’re not safe in your own mind, then you’re not safe anywhere. [Hetalia minor characters fic]
Notes: Err. Historical/factual inaccuracies for the sake of creativity. Hugh lived in the 1800s; there is no Breakers-style mansion on Water Island (which does exist), etc, etc. I tried to be as realistic otherwise. ALSO: FEM!ENGLAND. AND HOWARD NOT BEING WORKBITCH'S GRANDFATHER, ETC.
Part IV
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Aaron Bartholomew?”
“Yes, and you are?”
“Allen Clarke.”
“Allen! I haven’t heard from you in a while! How are you doing?”
“Fine, thank you. Look, Mum told me you were demonologist.”
“Well, yes, in a way. Why do you ask?”
“I need your help.”
Aaron Bartholomew replayed that call over and over in his mind as he stood on the deck of the ferry boat that would take him from Charlotte Amalie to Water Island. He had flown down from Connecticut at the next opportunity; Allen had provided for his transportation.
He found it odd that Allen would be capable of doing such things despite his possession - if he was, in fact, possessed. Alice had emailed him about it, too, telling him that Allen may not be possessed after all, but it didn’t hurt to have him take a look. According to Alice’s frantic email, Allen behaved normally most of the time, but he also talked to walls and pictures and himself.
“I saw him talking to the portrait of Fraser above the main staircase the other night,” Alice had confessed in a whispery phone call. “He was having a heated debate about whether or not he was going insane. I know, that sounds really ironic, doesn’t it? I haven’t sensed anything bad about the place, but I’m just an amateur.”
Aaron sighed and looked out at the tropical blue water. August was drawing to a close; September would come in soon and herald the end of the hurricane season. Still, tourists around him took pictures and babbled in several different languages. He paid them no attention, and most of them returned the gesture.
When the ferry docked, his brother Willis was there to greet him. Willis looked rather odd wearing a tailsuit in such weather - and driving a golf cart, too. Aaron had to stifle a laugh at his brother’s rather uncomfortable expression. “Suits you right, pun not intended,” he joked as he boarded the golf cart.
“Hush, you,” Willis replied sternly. Aaron hid a smirk behind his hand. The other started the cart, and it sped through town. “How have you been, Aaron?”
“Quite fine, thank you!” Aaron replied cheerfully. “You know why I’m here, right?”
“Yes, the master of the house wants you to investigate the house for demonic influence.” Willis’s face was expressionless. “Mr. Clarke believes that he is being possessed by a demon that shares the same name as the previous owner of Beauxreves Mansion.”
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Previous owner?” he echoed.
“Hugh Fraser, former British diplomat,” explained Willis. “Had an insane streak and killed his wife after she accused him of adultery. And then he committed suicide.”
“Manner of death?” Aaron asked.
“Stabbing,” Willis replied matter-of-factly. “Stabbed in the stomach, both of them.”
Aaron looked around at the tropical foliage. “I see,” he muttered, as they drove past several families playing at Honeymoon Beach.
Beauxreves appeared imposing and grand as ever as Aaron took off his fedora and entered. “Aah, this is quite a splendid house!” he exclaimed as Willis took his coat. His brother laughed harshly and put the garment away.
Allen was standing at the top of the staircase in a collared shirt and tie; he smiled and ran down the stairs to greet Aaron. “I missed you, Aaron! Still tending to dad’s Connecticut house?” Alfred, like any self-respecting multimillionaire, had a house in Connecticut. Aaron tended to it, and those who knew his side occupation as an demonologist joked about the Jersey Devil giving that house a wild berth.
“Well, the Devil hasn’t shown up yet,” Aaron replied with a twinkle in his eye. Allen smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Aaron frowned at that. Allen had always had a beautiful smile. Could there be some truth to the possession story?
He pushed the thought aside and smiled at Allen. “In any case, tell me more about this case,” he said calmly. “What have you been experiencing physically? Do you ever feel as if some invisible entity has been following you?”
Allen nodded. “Yes, in a way,” he replied. “Only I can see the person following me. No one else can, though. And that’s what concerns me.”
~~
“Tickets, to the new Broadway remake of Jekyll and Hyde!” Alfred Jones laughed and handed the slips of paper to his wife, Alice. “I know how much you love that book.”
“Well, I bet the musical version is terrible,” Alice replied grumpily, but she took them nonetheless. “When’s the date?”
“Opening night, darling! We’ve got the best seats in the house, too!” Alfred leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Shall we take Allen?”
Alice put her arms around him, drawing him close and closing her eyes. “I don’t know if Allen will be mentally stable enough to see it,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I bet Allen would love it, too! After all, it’s about a guy with two personalities -” he cut off, seeing Alice’s wide-eyed expression.
“Allen can’t go see that!” she exclaimed, brandishing the tickets. “We can’t let him see Jekyll and Hyde, what if it triggers him?”
“Oh, come off it, dear! It’s not like he has two personalities, right?” Alfred blinked, watching his wife’s expression fluctuate between exasperation and anger. “Right?”
Alice set the tickets on the desk. “We can go, but he can’t. Aaron’s here; we’ll treat him for taking the trouble to come down.”
~~
Allen met Ernesta in the garden after Aaron’s questioning. “The cotton plants long since disappeared. Fraser had stopped planting cotton five years before his death, preferring to maintain the flowers in this garden instead,” John the gardener was saying as he pruned some hedges. Ernesta was wearing a bright red rose in her hair; the roses blooming here seemed to like the tropical atomsphere. Allen thought that she looked quite nice in her matching red dress.
“Hey,” he said, waving as he approached. Ernesta beamed at him, and Allen could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle in John’s eyes. “Shall we?”
“Where are you two off to?” John asked curiously, pausing in his pruning to scrutinise Allen through his spectacles.
“Wherever,” Allen replied with a shrug. “Picnic,” he added, as an explanation. John laughed and resumed his work. Smiling, Allen extended an arm for Ernesta.
Picnic basket in hand, they left the house and started down along the road in a golf cart. People gawked as they passed, some of them whispering amongst themselves. “They’ve never seen you before,” Ernesta explained when Allen inquired about the curious Islanders. “Everyone thought you were a cankaterous recluse.” That caused Allen to laugh.
They parked at the edge of a gentle slope that led to a small, unoccupied beach. “No one ever comes to this one because the sandy area barely constitutes as a beach,” Ernesta said as they laid the picnic out on a rock. “There’s no name for this place.”
“Then they should call it Ernesta Beach,” Allen replied seriously, causing her to blush. The doctor suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of the picnic basket.
They had an agreeable picnic; the food was delicious and the company was enjoyable. Allen watched Ernesta as she ate her sandwich, emotions swirling about in his mind. What did he feel for her? It seemed a bit too complex to be labelled as ‘friendship’, but he was too hesitant to call it anything else.
“Shall we take a walk?” Ernesta asked as she took off her shoes. Allen followed suit, and they started walking along the small strip of sand.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Allen said after a moment. Ernesta looked at him with a shocked expression on his face, so he smiled and shrugged. “You ask me so many questions about me, so I thought I should return the favour.”
“Well, there’s not a lot to say,” Ernesta replied, folding her hands. “My family’s said to be descended from Gasparilla, the legendary Spanish pirate. My father was Anglo-Spanish, but he married a Japanese woman - which is why I don’t look very Spanish, I suppose.”
“Have you lived here all your life?” Allen asked. Ernesta bit her lip and looked off to the horizon.
“I think so. I mean, I remember my childhood pretty well. But everything up to seven years ago has been a blank. And I can’t even remember my parents’ names. How awful is that?”
“Horrible,” Allen agreed, taking her hand. It was small and warm in his own. Ernesta looked at him, the sea breeze stirring her black hair. The rose blew away, but neither seemed to mind.
Allen then noticed that Ernesta’s eyes were a startling shade of green. That green seemed familiar somehow; he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
Somehow, that little spot in his mind claimed that Hugh had something to do with it.
~~
Hugh was sitting there on Allen’s bed when the heir returned to his bedroom at night.
“I think you like Dr. Gaspar,” Hugh taunted, causing Allen to blush. “Lover boy!”
“And you’re one to talk!” said blushing lover boy retorted.
Hugh laughed. “Well, I approve. She reminds me of Tèa, after all.”
“Must you always talk about her?” Allen demanded. “It’s no wonder that I’ve got Aaron here!”
“You’re not going to get rid of me this easily, I tell you,” the diplomat said, expression suddenly serious. Allen said nothing, only turning his back on his double and beginning to change for bed. “Oi! Listen to your alter-ego!”
“I don’t have to,” Allen replied stubbornly, back still facing Hugh. The diplomat glared, but unfortunately (or was that fortunately?) looks couldn’t kill.
“I’ll make you, then,” Hugh replied, and when Allen turned around, the diplomat was gone.
Allen screamed as his head nearly exploded with white-hot agony.
~~
Ernesta heard the scream; it sent chills down her spine. “Allen!” she exclaimed, toppling her chair in her mad dash for the door. “Allen!”
Aaron was already in Allen’s room, at the young heir’s side. Ernesta dove for Allen as well, her heart pounding frantically as she grabbed his hand and checked for a pulse. It was there, as erratic as her own.
“Allen, Allen, are you okay? Allen? Can you hear me? What’s wrong? Can you speak?”
“My name isn’t Allen!” the blond heir screamed. “I thought you of all people would get it right!”
“Excuse me?” Ernesta asked, frowning. “Is that you, Mr. Fraser?” she asked tentatively.
“Dr. Gaspar, kindly get away from Mr. Clarke!” Aaron exclaimed, crossing himself as he said that.
“But he’s my patient, too!” Ernesta protested, still not looking at the demonologist. “Allen or Hugh, whoever you are, speak to me!”
“Tèa?” the figure on the bed croaked. “Tèa, I am so sorry…”
“I’m not Tèa,” Ernesta replied calmly, clasping his hand in hers. “But if you want me to be, I will. You’re Hugh, right?”
“Yes, yes, that’s me,” Hugh replied quietly.
“Dr. Gaspar!” Aaron warned. “Move away from him!”
“Hugh isn’t a demon, for crying out loud!” Ernesta turned around and glared at Aaron. “Can’t you see it? Don’t you know the stages of demonic possession?”
“Regression, repression, suppression, depression, oppression, obssession, and possession,” Aaron listed, eyes frantic as he peered into Allen’s eyes. “Which ones has he experienced?
“Depression, obsession, and suppression, but those are not unique to demonic possession,” Ernesta replied quickly. “It can also be a psychological problem - I think it’s maybe schizophrenia -”
“I can see,” Aaron replied, standing up. “Allen doesn’t seem to be doing anything particularly dangerous - and there doesn’t seem to be any malevolent entities in this house.”
“Tèa, don’t let me go,” Hugh babbled, and demonologist and doctor looked down at him.
“It’s not possession,” Aaron said after a moment. “If it was, there’d be darker coincidences occuring.”
~~
When Allen opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Ernesta, hovering over him anxiously.
“Well, you’re not possessed,” the doctor said with a little smile as she reached up and felt his forehead. “Mr. Bartholomew said so. There’s one more thing to cross off our list of possible maladies that you may have.”
I told you so, the extremely smug-sounding Hugh taunted from the back of his mind. Allen grimaced.
“I see,” he mumbled, looking sheepish. Ernesta said nothing. “Dr. Gaspar?”
“Ernesta,” the doctor insisted, her cheeks colouring. Allen didn’t know why, but he found that endearing.
“Ernesta,” he agreed, looking away. “I want to tell you about Hugh.”
~~
Ernesta felt a slight twinge of disappointment in her stomach, but she nodded and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. “What about him, then?”
“He lives in my mind,” Allen replied, and Ernesta started taking notes. “He haunts me and controls my subconscious. Sometimes he’s my alter-ego. Does this make me mad?” His blue eyes were pleading.
“N-no,” Ernesta stammered, feeling as if she was lying. “Is Hugh a friend?” she asked hastily. “Does he act friendly to you, despite the haunting and controlling? Or does he just try to ignore you as much as he can, until something triggers him to take control?”
“Most of the time he’s friendly,” Allen admitted. “And he takes control when he gets mad.”
“Do you know how he got into your mind?” Ernesta asked quietly, leaning in. Allen looked down at his hands.
“He appeared about a week after I moved in,” the heir replied. “He first appeared in my dreams, but then he started appearing when I was awake.”
“Do you think they could be hallucinations? Sleep paralysis?”
“I could touch him!” Allen exclaimed, frowning at her. “I… how could something that palpable be a hallucination?” Ernesta said nothing to that, so he continued. “He’ll always be here. I don’t think I can live without him anymore.”
The doctor felt a lump in her throat at seeing his melancholy expression. “Allen,” she whispered, reaching out and patting his hand. He clapsed her hand in his; Ernesta blushed.
“Let’s… move back to the beginning of the story. You started dreaming about him a week after you moved in?”
“It was the night of the storm,” Allen replied.
Ernesta’s eyes went wide; she remembered that night as well. She had been visiting Howard; Eugen dropped in when the storm started and clung to her when the lights went out. In the dark, Eugen started talking about Beauxreves Mansion and Hugh’s ghost. He also mentioned Tèa, Charlie, and Marion. Thinking about that coincidence sent a shiver up and down Ernesta’s spine.
“T-t-tell me about your past, t-then,” she muttered, suddenly interested in her notes. She pulled her hand away, not looking at Allen. “Did you have any issues in your past? Something wrong with your family?”
“I don’t remember,” Allen replied, causing Ernesta to look up sharply. “Everything’s a blank whenever I try to remember something that didn’t happen more than seven years ago. It unsettles me.”
“Do you think you can try? Think. What happened seven years ago?”
Allen closed his eyes, and Ernesta watched him anxiously. “Sadness,” the heir murmured. “A lot of sadness and forgetfulness. I don’t know why; I don’t think I had a traumatic childhood.”
Ernesta frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Think. Imagine. What could have happened when you were little?”
~~
Allen tried; he really tried to gather information about his childhood. But somehow he couldn’t remember anything. The frown on Ernesta’s face wasn’t helping him.
There’s nothing there, Hugh snapped. You’ve got a bad memory.
“There’s nothing wrong!” Allen replied waspishly, causing Ernesta to reel away, shocked at his sudden tone. “Oh, Dr. Gaspar, I’m so sorry! Hugh’s just…” he trailed off, glaring at the smirking diplomat sitting on his dresser. “Get down from there!”
“Allen? Are you all right?” Ernesta asked, waving her hand in front of his face. Allen rubbed his eyes, and Hugh was gone once more. He blinked owlishly at the doctor, feeling a bit stupid and very embarassed at his sudden irritation.
Eugen suddenly entered the room with a slip of paper. “Hey, Ernie, Mrs. Baxter is sending her son Riley over for a check-up tomorrow,” he said, handing her the paper. “Riley’s been having stomachaches.”
“I’ll go back to the office tomorrow for that, then,” Ernesta replied, pocketing the paper. Allen looked at her despondently. “Thank you, Eugen.”
“No prob, Ernie,” the reporter said cheerfully, leaving the room with a wave. Allen sighed, looking away from Ernesta.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said after a moment. “I’ll have a diagnosis written after I tend to Riley Baxter tomorrow. You’ve given me quite a bit of information; I think I can pinpoint what’s wrong easily. Thank you, Allen.”
“It’s no problem,” Allen replied, while Hugh nagged at him to make his move. Ernesta smiled and stood up. Allen clambered out of bed as well, walking her to the door.
“Well, I should be packing, then. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.” Ernesta extended a hand. “You’ve been cooperative most of the time, which is incredible.”
Allen smiled and shook her hand. “I suppose.” He was weakening under Hugh’s insistence, and if Ernesta insisted on prologing the goodbye…
“Bye.” Ernesta was walking down the hall now, and Allen watched her leave with a sinking feeling in his chest.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Romance, Horror (genres subject to change, yeah)
Word Count: idek my bff jill.
Rating/Warnings: R (to be safe)
Summary: If you’re not safe in your own mind, then you’re not safe anywhere. [Hetalia minor characters fic]
Notes: Err. Historical/factual inaccuracies for the sake of creativity. Hugh lived in the 1800s; there is no Breakers-style mansion on Water Island (which does exist), etc, etc. I tried to be as realistic otherwise. ALSO: FEM!ENGLAND. AND HOWARD NOT BEING WORKBITCH'S GRANDFATHER, ETC.
Part IV
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Aaron Bartholomew?”
“Yes, and you are?”
“Allen Clarke.”
“Allen! I haven’t heard from you in a while! How are you doing?”
“Fine, thank you. Look, Mum told me you were demonologist.”
“Well, yes, in a way. Why do you ask?”
“I need your help.”
Aaron Bartholomew replayed that call over and over in his mind as he stood on the deck of the ferry boat that would take him from Charlotte Amalie to Water Island. He had flown down from Connecticut at the next opportunity; Allen had provided for his transportation.
He found it odd that Allen would be capable of doing such things despite his possession - if he was, in fact, possessed. Alice had emailed him about it, too, telling him that Allen may not be possessed after all, but it didn’t hurt to have him take a look. According to Alice’s frantic email, Allen behaved normally most of the time, but he also talked to walls and pictures and himself.
“I saw him talking to the portrait of Fraser above the main staircase the other night,” Alice had confessed in a whispery phone call. “He was having a heated debate about whether or not he was going insane. I know, that sounds really ironic, doesn’t it? I haven’t sensed anything bad about the place, but I’m just an amateur.”
Aaron sighed and looked out at the tropical blue water. August was drawing to a close; September would come in soon and herald the end of the hurricane season. Still, tourists around him took pictures and babbled in several different languages. He paid them no attention, and most of them returned the gesture.
When the ferry docked, his brother Willis was there to greet him. Willis looked rather odd wearing a tailsuit in such weather - and driving a golf cart, too. Aaron had to stifle a laugh at his brother’s rather uncomfortable expression. “Suits you right, pun not intended,” he joked as he boarded the golf cart.
“Hush, you,” Willis replied sternly. Aaron hid a smirk behind his hand. The other started the cart, and it sped through town. “How have you been, Aaron?”
“Quite fine, thank you!” Aaron replied cheerfully. “You know why I’m here, right?”
“Yes, the master of the house wants you to investigate the house for demonic influence.” Willis’s face was expressionless. “Mr. Clarke believes that he is being possessed by a demon that shares the same name as the previous owner of Beauxreves Mansion.”
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Previous owner?” he echoed.
“Hugh Fraser, former British diplomat,” explained Willis. “Had an insane streak and killed his wife after she accused him of adultery. And then he committed suicide.”
“Manner of death?” Aaron asked.
“Stabbing,” Willis replied matter-of-factly. “Stabbed in the stomach, both of them.”
Aaron looked around at the tropical foliage. “I see,” he muttered, as they drove past several families playing at Honeymoon Beach.
Beauxreves appeared imposing and grand as ever as Aaron took off his fedora and entered. “Aah, this is quite a splendid house!” he exclaimed as Willis took his coat. His brother laughed harshly and put the garment away.
Allen was standing at the top of the staircase in a collared shirt and tie; he smiled and ran down the stairs to greet Aaron. “I missed you, Aaron! Still tending to dad’s Connecticut house?” Alfred, like any self-respecting multimillionaire, had a house in Connecticut. Aaron tended to it, and those who knew his side occupation as an demonologist joked about the Jersey Devil giving that house a wild berth.
“Well, the Devil hasn’t shown up yet,” Aaron replied with a twinkle in his eye. Allen smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Aaron frowned at that. Allen had always had a beautiful smile. Could there be some truth to the possession story?
He pushed the thought aside and smiled at Allen. “In any case, tell me more about this case,” he said calmly. “What have you been experiencing physically? Do you ever feel as if some invisible entity has been following you?”
Allen nodded. “Yes, in a way,” he replied. “Only I can see the person following me. No one else can, though. And that’s what concerns me.”
~~
“Tickets, to the new Broadway remake of Jekyll and Hyde!” Alfred Jones laughed and handed the slips of paper to his wife, Alice. “I know how much you love that book.”
“Well, I bet the musical version is terrible,” Alice replied grumpily, but she took them nonetheless. “When’s the date?”
“Opening night, darling! We’ve got the best seats in the house, too!” Alfred leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Shall we take Allen?”
Alice put her arms around him, drawing him close and closing her eyes. “I don’t know if Allen will be mentally stable enough to see it,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I bet Allen would love it, too! After all, it’s about a guy with two personalities -” he cut off, seeing Alice’s wide-eyed expression.
“Allen can’t go see that!” she exclaimed, brandishing the tickets. “We can’t let him see Jekyll and Hyde, what if it triggers him?”
“Oh, come off it, dear! It’s not like he has two personalities, right?” Alfred blinked, watching his wife’s expression fluctuate between exasperation and anger. “Right?”
Alice set the tickets on the desk. “We can go, but he can’t. Aaron’s here; we’ll treat him for taking the trouble to come down.”
~~
Allen met Ernesta in the garden after Aaron’s questioning. “The cotton plants long since disappeared. Fraser had stopped planting cotton five years before his death, preferring to maintain the flowers in this garden instead,” John the gardener was saying as he pruned some hedges. Ernesta was wearing a bright red rose in her hair; the roses blooming here seemed to like the tropical atomsphere. Allen thought that she looked quite nice in her matching red dress.
“Hey,” he said, waving as he approached. Ernesta beamed at him, and Allen could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle in John’s eyes. “Shall we?”
“Where are you two off to?” John asked curiously, pausing in his pruning to scrutinise Allen through his spectacles.
“Wherever,” Allen replied with a shrug. “Picnic,” he added, as an explanation. John laughed and resumed his work. Smiling, Allen extended an arm for Ernesta.
Picnic basket in hand, they left the house and started down along the road in a golf cart. People gawked as they passed, some of them whispering amongst themselves. “They’ve never seen you before,” Ernesta explained when Allen inquired about the curious Islanders. “Everyone thought you were a cankaterous recluse.” That caused Allen to laugh.
They parked at the edge of a gentle slope that led to a small, unoccupied beach. “No one ever comes to this one because the sandy area barely constitutes as a beach,” Ernesta said as they laid the picnic out on a rock. “There’s no name for this place.”
“Then they should call it Ernesta Beach,” Allen replied seriously, causing her to blush. The doctor suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of the picnic basket.
They had an agreeable picnic; the food was delicious and the company was enjoyable. Allen watched Ernesta as she ate her sandwich, emotions swirling about in his mind. What did he feel for her? It seemed a bit too complex to be labelled as ‘friendship’, but he was too hesitant to call it anything else.
“Shall we take a walk?” Ernesta asked as she took off her shoes. Allen followed suit, and they started walking along the small strip of sand.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Allen said after a moment. Ernesta looked at him with a shocked expression on his face, so he smiled and shrugged. “You ask me so many questions about me, so I thought I should return the favour.”
“Well, there’s not a lot to say,” Ernesta replied, folding her hands. “My family’s said to be descended from Gasparilla, the legendary Spanish pirate. My father was Anglo-Spanish, but he married a Japanese woman - which is why I don’t look very Spanish, I suppose.”
“Have you lived here all your life?” Allen asked. Ernesta bit her lip and looked off to the horizon.
“I think so. I mean, I remember my childhood pretty well. But everything up to seven years ago has been a blank. And I can’t even remember my parents’ names. How awful is that?”
“Horrible,” Allen agreed, taking her hand. It was small and warm in his own. Ernesta looked at him, the sea breeze stirring her black hair. The rose blew away, but neither seemed to mind.
Allen then noticed that Ernesta’s eyes were a startling shade of green. That green seemed familiar somehow; he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
Somehow, that little spot in his mind claimed that Hugh had something to do with it.
~~
Hugh was sitting there on Allen’s bed when the heir returned to his bedroom at night.
“I think you like Dr. Gaspar,” Hugh taunted, causing Allen to blush. “Lover boy!”
“And you’re one to talk!” said blushing lover boy retorted.
Hugh laughed. “Well, I approve. She reminds me of Tèa, after all.”
“Must you always talk about her?” Allen demanded. “It’s no wonder that I’ve got Aaron here!”
“You’re not going to get rid of me this easily, I tell you,” the diplomat said, expression suddenly serious. Allen said nothing, only turning his back on his double and beginning to change for bed. “Oi! Listen to your alter-ego!”
“I don’t have to,” Allen replied stubbornly, back still facing Hugh. The diplomat glared, but unfortunately (or was that fortunately?) looks couldn’t kill.
“I’ll make you, then,” Hugh replied, and when Allen turned around, the diplomat was gone.
Allen screamed as his head nearly exploded with white-hot agony.
~~
Ernesta heard the scream; it sent chills down her spine. “Allen!” she exclaimed, toppling her chair in her mad dash for the door. “Allen!”
Aaron was already in Allen’s room, at the young heir’s side. Ernesta dove for Allen as well, her heart pounding frantically as she grabbed his hand and checked for a pulse. It was there, as erratic as her own.
“Allen, Allen, are you okay? Allen? Can you hear me? What’s wrong? Can you speak?”
“My name isn’t Allen!” the blond heir screamed. “I thought you of all people would get it right!”
“Excuse me?” Ernesta asked, frowning. “Is that you, Mr. Fraser?” she asked tentatively.
“Dr. Gaspar, kindly get away from Mr. Clarke!” Aaron exclaimed, crossing himself as he said that.
“But he’s my patient, too!” Ernesta protested, still not looking at the demonologist. “Allen or Hugh, whoever you are, speak to me!”
“Tèa?” the figure on the bed croaked. “Tèa, I am so sorry…”
“I’m not Tèa,” Ernesta replied calmly, clasping his hand in hers. “But if you want me to be, I will. You’re Hugh, right?”
“Yes, yes, that’s me,” Hugh replied quietly.
“Dr. Gaspar!” Aaron warned. “Move away from him!”
“Hugh isn’t a demon, for crying out loud!” Ernesta turned around and glared at Aaron. “Can’t you see it? Don’t you know the stages of demonic possession?”
“Regression, repression, suppression, depression, oppression, obssession, and possession,” Aaron listed, eyes frantic as he peered into Allen’s eyes. “Which ones has he experienced?
“Depression, obsession, and suppression, but those are not unique to demonic possession,” Ernesta replied quickly. “It can also be a psychological problem - I think it’s maybe schizophrenia -”
“I can see,” Aaron replied, standing up. “Allen doesn’t seem to be doing anything particularly dangerous - and there doesn’t seem to be any malevolent entities in this house.”
“Tèa, don’t let me go,” Hugh babbled, and demonologist and doctor looked down at him.
“It’s not possession,” Aaron said after a moment. “If it was, there’d be darker coincidences occuring.”
~~
When Allen opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Ernesta, hovering over him anxiously.
“Well, you’re not possessed,” the doctor said with a little smile as she reached up and felt his forehead. “Mr. Bartholomew said so. There’s one more thing to cross off our list of possible maladies that you may have.”
I told you so, the extremely smug-sounding Hugh taunted from the back of his mind. Allen grimaced.
“I see,” he mumbled, looking sheepish. Ernesta said nothing. “Dr. Gaspar?”
“Ernesta,” the doctor insisted, her cheeks colouring. Allen didn’t know why, but he found that endearing.
“Ernesta,” he agreed, looking away. “I want to tell you about Hugh.”
~~
Ernesta felt a slight twinge of disappointment in her stomach, but she nodded and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. “What about him, then?”
“He lives in my mind,” Allen replied, and Ernesta started taking notes. “He haunts me and controls my subconscious. Sometimes he’s my alter-ego. Does this make me mad?” His blue eyes were pleading.
“N-no,” Ernesta stammered, feeling as if she was lying. “Is Hugh a friend?” she asked hastily. “Does he act friendly to you, despite the haunting and controlling? Or does he just try to ignore you as much as he can, until something triggers him to take control?”
“Most of the time he’s friendly,” Allen admitted. “And he takes control when he gets mad.”
“Do you know how he got into your mind?” Ernesta asked quietly, leaning in. Allen looked down at his hands.
“He appeared about a week after I moved in,” the heir replied. “He first appeared in my dreams, but then he started appearing when I was awake.”
“Do you think they could be hallucinations? Sleep paralysis?”
“I could touch him!” Allen exclaimed, frowning at her. “I… how could something that palpable be a hallucination?” Ernesta said nothing to that, so he continued. “He’ll always be here. I don’t think I can live without him anymore.”
The doctor felt a lump in her throat at seeing his melancholy expression. “Allen,” she whispered, reaching out and patting his hand. He clapsed her hand in his; Ernesta blushed.
“Let’s… move back to the beginning of the story. You started dreaming about him a week after you moved in?”
“It was the night of the storm,” Allen replied.
Ernesta’s eyes went wide; she remembered that night as well. She had been visiting Howard; Eugen dropped in when the storm started and clung to her when the lights went out. In the dark, Eugen started talking about Beauxreves Mansion and Hugh’s ghost. He also mentioned Tèa, Charlie, and Marion. Thinking about that coincidence sent a shiver up and down Ernesta’s spine.
“T-t-tell me about your past, t-then,” she muttered, suddenly interested in her notes. She pulled her hand away, not looking at Allen. “Did you have any issues in your past? Something wrong with your family?”
“I don’t remember,” Allen replied, causing Ernesta to look up sharply. “Everything’s a blank whenever I try to remember something that didn’t happen more than seven years ago. It unsettles me.”
“Do you think you can try? Think. What happened seven years ago?”
Allen closed his eyes, and Ernesta watched him anxiously. “Sadness,” the heir murmured. “A lot of sadness and forgetfulness. I don’t know why; I don’t think I had a traumatic childhood.”
Ernesta frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Think. Imagine. What could have happened when you were little?”
~~
Allen tried; he really tried to gather information about his childhood. But somehow he couldn’t remember anything. The frown on Ernesta’s face wasn’t helping him.
There’s nothing there, Hugh snapped. You’ve got a bad memory.
“There’s nothing wrong!” Allen replied waspishly, causing Ernesta to reel away, shocked at his sudden tone. “Oh, Dr. Gaspar, I’m so sorry! Hugh’s just…” he trailed off, glaring at the smirking diplomat sitting on his dresser. “Get down from there!”
“Allen? Are you all right?” Ernesta asked, waving her hand in front of his face. Allen rubbed his eyes, and Hugh was gone once more. He blinked owlishly at the doctor, feeling a bit stupid and very embarassed at his sudden irritation.
Eugen suddenly entered the room with a slip of paper. “Hey, Ernie, Mrs. Baxter is sending her son Riley over for a check-up tomorrow,” he said, handing her the paper. “Riley’s been having stomachaches.”
“I’ll go back to the office tomorrow for that, then,” Ernesta replied, pocketing the paper. Allen looked at her despondently. “Thank you, Eugen.”
“No prob, Ernie,” the reporter said cheerfully, leaving the room with a wave. Allen sighed, looking away from Ernesta.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said after a moment. “I’ll have a diagnosis written after I tend to Riley Baxter tomorrow. You’ve given me quite a bit of information; I think I can pinpoint what’s wrong easily. Thank you, Allen.”
“It’s no problem,” Allen replied, while Hugh nagged at him to make his move. Ernesta smiled and stood up. Allen clambered out of bed as well, walking her to the door.
“Well, I should be packing, then. It’s been a pleasure to work with you.” Ernesta extended a hand. “You’ve been cooperative most of the time, which is incredible.”
Allen smiled and shook her hand. “I suppose.” He was weakening under Hugh’s insistence, and if Ernesta insisted on prologing the goodbye…
“Bye.” Ernesta was walking down the hall now, and Allen watched her leave with a sinking feeling in his chest.