For King And Country (not mine)

Button House

The Captain took a sharp intake of breath.
He was struck by how wrong it felt. Almost like he didn't need it.
He looked around, realising that he wasn't sitting down anymore. His feet were firm on the ground beneath him, and everything seemed almost normal.
But the Captain couldn't remember standing up.
He took a step and then looked behind him at the chair he'd just been sitting on.
Immediately, he yelled out in shock, stumbling away and tripping over his feet in the process.
He felt himself fall backwards, saw the room disappear, and then he was looking at the wall outside his office.
He made a surprised noise when he saw his legs still trapped partially in the wall and then realised that someone's arms were wrapped around his middle. The only thing he could see was unfamiliar white sleeves ending in a neat cuff at the wrist.
"Come on now, let's get you up on your feet." A voice said.
The Captain experimentally tried to gather his feet underneath him and found that his legs quite easily came out of the wall.
He turned to greet whoever had caught him, coming face to face with a younger man with neat brown hair, angular features and a peculiar sense of dress.
The billowing sleeves and waistcoat, the trousers and the shoes screamed not only wealth but also age.
Though the man looked younger than the Captain, there seemed to be a lifetime of knowledge behind his eyes. Things he'd seen and experienced far too many times to count.
"W-who in bally hell are you?! You do realise that this house is strictly off-limits to civilians, don't you? There are confidential war documents here-"
"And where else am I supposed to go when I'm dead, hm?" The man lamented.
"Dead?"
"Do catch on." The man replied. "Something tells me you didn't wake up and decide to walk through a wall. It's quite a fright to see your own body. Walking through solid things is a little strange at first, but you get used to it. We all go through it."
"All?" The Captain asked. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Yes, of course, I'll have to introduce you to everyone. My name is Thomas Thorne, poet extraordinaire." The man sighed. "This is a real distraction, you know. I was in the middle of composing my latest sonnet. It's quite rude of you to interrupt."
"I-I'm sorry?"
The man took off down the corridor and turned when he didn't hear the Captain's footsteps behind him.
"Well? Come on, then! Don't expect everyone to come to you!"
~
Thomas called through the house as they walked, much to the Captain's dismay. The poet was yelling out names that seemingly did no good.
It was only when they reached the old banquet hall that the Captain was confronted with anyone else.
"Oh, hello Thomas! Was that you yelling just now?" A young woman in a pink dress asked.
"Who else?" Thomas asked. "We have a new arrival." He gestured to the Captain and then motioned to each person as he began to name them. "Not everyone is here yet, but this is Kitty and Mary, and that's Lady Fanny Button. I'm not sure where Humphrey is. Could be anywhere, the body tends to wander, and the head is hard to keep track of."
"You mean to say they're separate entities?" The Captain asked.
"Be'eadin'." One of the women - Mary, the Captain reminded himself - said. She fiddled nervously with her apron and smiled briefly at the Captain.
"Ooh, I do love new arrivals!" Kitty added. She stood from the sofa and bounded over to the
Captain excitedly. "I'm Katherine, but everyone calls me Kitty. What's your name?"
The Captain readjusted his uniform and realised that he had something in his hand. He hadn't even noticed before, but his fingers were wrapped around an old swagger stick.
He hadn't used one since he'd been stationed at Button House.
Must've picked it up from my desk drawer with the letter.
Those last few minutes before his death seemed foggy, and the only thing the Captain could remember was the feeling of his feet colliding with floorboards. He'd been sorting through his old office, of course. But the finer details felt blurred.
This whole experience felt like a fever dream.
The Captain cleared his throat.
"You may call me Captain." The Captain said. "I was commanding officer here at Button House, and I fully intend to keep this house in running order if ... if what Thorne here says is true and I'm we're ..." He trailed off.
"Dead?" Kitty finished. The Captain nodded. "Well, it's ever so nice to meet you, Captain! Will you be my friend? You're dressed just like another one of us ghosts, but he's with Robin in the garden right now, so I get to ask to be friends first."
"Wait, there's another ... ghost ... that's in this uniform?" The Captain asked. "How long has he been here? What does he look like?"
"He's been here five years by now," Fanny answered with a dismissive wave.
"That's - that's impossible." The Captain said. "I was here five years ago, and there was only one man in this uniform that died that year. At least only one that I know of."
Voices came from a nearby corridor, and the Captain took a few steps towards it.
Two people emerged from a wall, and for the first time in five years, the Captain saw green. Truly saw it.
He realised now why he'd felt grief at being unable to easily see green English uniform under the muck and gore of the trenches.
To him, green was the man who'd just walked through the door, a smile on his face and familiar laughter falling from his lips, as clear and joyful as church bells.
Green was late-night conversations with a bottle of port shared between them that soon turned into tender kisses and early retirement to bed.
It was the colour of what could've and should've been, a future with a sea view and the smell of home cooking. A crackling fireplace. Soft piano music and Glenn Miller on the radio.
Green signified home.
For the first time in five years, with no grief accompanying it, the Captain thought of home and gave it a name.
"William." The Captain said softly, almost in disbelief.
The room was almost silent save for the laughter that had come from the men walking into the room.
The silence gave the Captain's voice a chance to travel, and Havers' attention was drawn to him.
The Captain came back to himself, cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Lieutenant Havers," He said. "I - I must say I'm surprised to see you again. A good kind of surprised, of course. It's good to see you again."
Havers stood there, glued in place, face frozen in shock. Over his arm was his overcoat, the one he'd been wearing when he'd been shot.
The man beside him, covered in dirt and various animal skins, nudged him, and Havers finally took a breath.
"Captain?" He said, almost uncertain if his eyes were deceiving him. He slowly closed the distance and reached out, pressing his fingertips to the Captain's shoulder, testing to see if he was real.
His fingers came into contact with the material of the Captain's jacket, and a strangled noise came from Haver's throat.
Within an instant, the two of them were grasping each other tightly.
Havers' overcoat lay forgotten on the floor, partially draped across their feet.
Thousands of memories flooded into the Captain's brain. There were a million moments where he'd been in this position before. Holding Havers close, familiar fabric beneath his fingers.
"You're here, and you-" Havers said. He pulled back sharply. "I can touch you. You ... you're ..."
"Dead." The Captain said weakly. "Or so I've just found out. Rather unpleasant to see my own body sat in the chair in my bedroom."
Havers winced. "Yes, it is rather strange. If my digestive system still functioned after death, I would've been sick when I first saw myself. Oh, Captain, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. You've been gone for so long."
"Yes, I - I left for another post once you passed away. I'm not sure what happened to everyone else.
Did the Eleven stay?"
"Yes, they only left quite recently. Not sure what all the fuss was about."
"The war is over." The Captain said. Havers paled slightly. "We won! Of course, we won."
Havers relaxed and smiled. "Wonderful news, sir. Everyone is safe and well, I can tell you. A little exhausted, but they're all safe. Apart from Hughes. He was taken away after I died, right?"
"Yes, court-martialled. I never found out the outcome. They wouldn't tell me." The Captain said.
"But justice was served, at least."
"Well, we must have a proper catch-up, sir," Havers said. "It's a shame we can't have some port like we used to. How about a walk around the grounds?"
The Captain looked at Havers, taking in all the details he'd wished he'd committed more of a memory of. If this was a figment of his imagination brought on by nostalgia, he wanted to make sure Havers' memory was concrete.
He could never forget his lieutenant, not truly. But getting to see him so full of life again was a joy that the Captain revelled in.
"A walk around the grounds sounds lovely, Havers."
~