Shakespeare one shots

[Enter Ghost]

Ambiguous time period, but there's a definite anachronism about Horatio's qualifications. I like my Doc Ratio jokes, okay?? It's not my fault Hamlet thinks it's sexy!

Anywho, this occurs after the canon events of the play, if that isn't clear later (which it very well might not be).

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In the days following his prince's death, Horatio was so rarely coherent in thought that Fortinbras began to wonder why Hamlet went on and on about the man's wit as he did. Where was Hamlet's Horatio, so full of "harrowing loyalty, stunning intelligence; I swear I'd have gone insane as King without him at my side"?

In the eyes of the public, of course, Hamlet had never said that. In the ears of poor Fortinbras, he said it constantly. Almost always as the new monarch quietly closed Horatio's door.

How is he?

Hamlet's voice came through in a sort of echo, sounding from all directions. Fortinbras searched around the hall to find the pale apparition draped across a windowsill.

"He's no better than yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. He's drenched himself in akvavit this time. Mumbled something about a pearl."

Oh, Horatio, no...

Hamlet's eyes went soft and sad, a sharp contrast to the intent hope they held previously. Fortinbras was reminded of Horatio's eyes as the physician told him the prince would not survive the poison and he clenched his jaw in frustration.

"If you actually cared, you'd have visited him long ago instead of using me as your damn messenger-"

Hamlet's sad eyes had turned to steel. Fortinbras felt a pressure at his throat; a cold finger, maybe two, digging into the soft flesh above his adam's apple. He didn't dare to breathe.

I would not say such things if I were you. I care about him more than you could possibly comprehend.

"Then explain why he cut your name into his arm with a letter opener."

The warning touch at his throat vanished, and Fortinbras gratefully took in a deep lungful of air. Hamlet's ghost faded from the window and appeared before him.

He cut himself?

The soft, sad eyes were back. Fortinbras sighed.

"He used a letter opener because we removed everything sharp from his room after he cut the first time. Now I've got to step up his supervision."

Something like liquid silver dripped from Hamlet's hand, but disappeared the instant it hit the floor. Fortinbras realized the ghost was digging his nails into his palms. He sighed again.

"He's desperate to see you. Maybe you should talk to him."

Hamlet shook his head, eyes squeezed shut and more silver blood dripping from his fists.

No. He needs to get over me, not go mad because of me. I'd only make him worse.

"Let me amend myself. He's desperate to see you and he doesn't care how. Maybe you should talk to him before he figures out how to hang himself with his belt and his bedsheets."

Fortinbras felt a rush of cold air, and suddenly Hamlet's voice was everywhere, around him, through him, in him, utterly panicked.

But you won't let that happen! You won't let him kill himself! He must live! He will not die because of me!

Now shivering due to the chill and the ghost's frantic energy, Fortinbras nodded meekly. He gasped when the fingers returned to his throat, digging in hard.