The Very Witching Time Of Night {Hamlet} FIN

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

Claudius Chandler had been out on the town. That wasn't to say he was worse for the wear; if anyone could hold their drink it was him. He'd also won a fair bit from the game of poker he'd been playing with his friends, improving his mood all the more.

The weather was pleasant enough that night and, coupled with Claudius' unsually high spirits, it led to him deigning to go for a walk before calling his driver to pick him up. He jovially bade his friends farewell and set off, not really caring where his feet took him, only pausing to greet and acknowledge those he met on his way who looked on him with a favourable eye.

This general good humour considered, it was curious that Claudius should find himself outside the graveyard. He paused, considered simply walking on, then moved forward to open the gate and enter the cemetery. It was as though there was something about the place that drew him to it, as though to mar his good mood.

But then, Claudius reasoned as he made his way through the graveyard, he had no reason for his good mood to dissapear. This was just a cemetery and there was no-one here. Well, there were the dead people. But they were dead and gone...there was no such thing as ghosts.

To his surprise Chandler found himself laughing out loud at the very notion of being afraid of ghosts. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him after all...

The laughter died from his face as he stopped at Hamlet Senior's grave. This was no laughing matter. He observed the well tended grave with a somewhat calculating expression on his face, though he said nothing. But then, who was here to hear him?

[hamlet]

Here he was again.

But this time as he entered the cemetery gates he was calm. Reserved. Oddly collective. Strangely so. He wasn't drunk, not even buzzed. Perhaps this was one of those 12-Stages-of-Grief they keep talking about. The one that seems to have several extra stages added on just for Harry. Numbness felt like the right word. He missed his father.

Was 'missed' the right word even?

Because its not like he saw visions of him or anything.

....right.

Numbness, frustration maybe? What was Harry's excuse for not standing up to Claudius by now? Oh right. He had no proof that he killed Hamlet. None whatsoever. So why hasn't he found it yet? And he certainly didn't need proof of the fact that Claudius has taken Hamlet's life's work and used it for his own personal money tree. And what has Harry done about that? Nothing.

And this has brought him back to the cemetery. As much as he didn't want to, he needed to face his father - sober. Even if it was another apparition. He needed guidance. He needed a 'reality check' as it were. What was he supposed to do? Act without proof? Act without reason? He couldn't. It didn't make sense.

In the far distance he saw a figure by Hamlet's grave. Just by instinct, Harry knew it was Claudius. Harry stopped in his tracks - froze. He wanted to turn around. Turn around and come back some other time - maybe go have a few drinks like he usually would be. But no, after a moment, Harry decided...he should stay. Claudius needed to believe Harry was unstable. Besides, he would be so wrapped up into his own self-serving endeavors that Harry's declining mental state would be just enough cover for Harry to find the evidence he needed. Claudius would never suspect that...well, Harry suspected him. And that he could plan a way to take him down.

Wait.

That sounded unbelievably stupid.

Harry sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his dark hair and turned around towards the gate. It was his plan all this time. He'd been acting weird in front of his co-workers, in front of the media, all to get people to think he wasn't mentally capable of cracking a murder. So that Claudius would have a false sense of security. Now Harry wasn't so sure it would even work.

But since when had Harry ever doubted his own acting abilities?

No, no, no. He should do this. He should do this because if anyone could pull this off, it would be him.

Harry turned around again, finally making the decision to approach Claudius. It infuriated Harry that Claudius would step foot any where near Hamlet's grave - but Harry couldn't worry about that now.

He stopped just a few feet away from Claudius, gazing first at the grave then at Claudius. "Who the hell are you?" He asked a slight furrow of his brow.

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

Claudius was just about to turn away from the grave and make his way out of the cemetery when he heard a voice, close at hand. He started, hissed an oath, not having expected anyone else to be here, let alone in such close proximity to him. It was as he turned to see who had spoken that the voice registered.

Harry.

Mentally he scolded himself for having jumped; how would that look to Harry? Claudius began to feel as though it made him look guilty, as though he was in a place he shouldn't be, at the graveside of a man he'd murdered. But then, how else was he meant to react?

"Who the hell are you?"

If the younger Chandler's presence hadn't surprised Claudius enough, his words certainly did. Having recovered from his shock Claudius' expression changed to one of confusion, mingled with anger at the ridiculous nature of the situation. Just what did Harry mean by that?

"What are you on about Harry, you know who I am!" he snapped. He didn't have the patience to deal with Harry's antics at present.

[hamlet]

Harry didn't bat an eye at Claudius' snappy temper. And when Harry really thought about it, it could be proof that Claudius had something to hide. He was on edge, especially next to Hamlet's grave. Claudius didn't even fake being half-way decent this time. But it is what Harry came to expect, which made acting this way all the more easier.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not on about anything." He sighed heavily and dramatically while looking up to gaze at the sky. "Not anymore, mister. Not anymore. I am at my wits end." He looked back at Claudius and shrugged with a small hint of a smirk, his eyes slightly widened to add emphases to the following phrase. "Providing I had any wits to begin with."

He looked over at the grave and approached the tombstone, placing a hand affectionately on the surface of it. "My wits are an illusion left by my ego. Like the light of the stars. They're pretty for that reason I think." He turned to Claudius with a perplexed expression. "Why are we talking about the stars?" He started to laugh as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. "They don't even exist!"

"Besides, somehow you've managed to avoid my question and I didn't even notice. You talented son of a gun you. Sneaky bastard, that's what you are," He said this all with a grin as if he were just lightly joking. "Who are you? Really."

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

"I'm not on about anything. Not anymore, mister. Not anymore. I am at my wits end. Providing I had any wits to begin with."

Harry’s words, not to mention his theatrics, set Claudius all the more on edge. He seemed to be hinting at something but Claudius couldn’t quite grasp it. Providing I had any wits to begin with...was he trying to tell him he was mad? He couldn’t be, he wasn’t…but the way he was acting made it seem scarily plausible.

What the hell was going on, that was all Claudius wanted to know. He was a man who always had to be sure of himself, of his own person and his situation. Yet here, in a graveyard, at night, near the grave of a man he’d murdered no less, having a conversation like this with his nephew hwo was acting more strangely than usual…Claudius didn’t feel sure of much anymore, least of all where this conversation (if it could be called that) was heading.

"My wits are an illusion left by my ego. Like the light of the stars. They're pretty for that reason I think. Why are we talking about the stars? They don't even exist!"

“We aren’t-“ Claudius interjected angrily, trying to get a word in edgeways before Harry cut him off, still rambling on.

"Besides, somehow you've managed to avoid my question and I didn't even notice. You talented son of a gun you. Sneaky bastard, that's what you are,"

Claudius flinched at these words; not just due to the words themselves or what they implied (though Harry, of course, had no idea he was implying anything, did he?) but it was almost as though a chill had swept over the cemetery. Something was happening here and for once in his life Claudius didn’t have a clue what this might be.

Not to mention, although he wasn’t even remotely tipsy, the alcohol he’d consumed earlier wasn’t helping matters, making him angrier than he probably should be when trying to deal diplomatically with Harry. Maybe his involuntary movement had been an attempt to mask his building fury, or stop it in his tracks before he was tempted to lash out further, in more than words, perhaps.

"Who are you? Really."

“What the hell do you mean?”

It wasn’t as though he had shouted, but it was clear from his tone that he was becoming all the more incensed.

[hamlet]

Harry looked at Claudius as if he were crazy and slowly approached him with each pause between his words. "Who...are....you?" He pointed his finger at him. "Was the 'who' or the 'you' confusing? Wait," He slapped a hand to his forehead for a moment. "I'm sorry that was really rude of me, I'm just not thinking lately. Whoo!" Under his breath, he said to himself. "Harry, what the hell's wrong with you. When did you become such an asshole?" He looked up at Claudius and smiled.

"Rewind. Refresh. Pretend I never said that." He took a deep breath. Harry knew from Claudius' tone that he was getting under his skin, and that made Harry want to press even harder. He knew that he wouldn't ever get a confession - if he did, in fact, murder Hamlet. But if only Harry could just get an ounce of a clue. Just a little something. That's all he wanted.

"I'm so sorry, who ever you are. I don't know what's gotten into me." Harry's expression went pained for a moment as he put a hand to his head and lowered his gaze. "It's just that I wasn't expecting anyone being here but me." He looked up at Claudius and backed up a few steps towards the tombstone. "I talk to him you know." It wasn't so far off from the truth - which scared Harry as he said those words. "I talk to him. Sometimes I think he's still alive. Crazy right? And he tells me things..." his voice trailed off as he looked down at the grave.

"Like...how to be a prince." He looked at Claudius with a grin. Of course he wouldn't tell him the truth. Who knows if the 'truth' was even...well...sane?

"It was my nickname so it makes sense right? A real prince. If I could sword fight - or have a castle....I've always wanted a castle, haven't you? Ditch the business, ditch Hamlet Enterprises...and ride a horse. Or something. Quite a freeing thought." Furrowing his brow, he tried to remember something. "How does it go?" Harry began to sing softly, his finger moving back and forth as if he were conducting. "I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing....uh, Roman Catholic choirs are singing...once you go there was never, never an honest word...but that was when I ruled the world...da da da da da da da da..."

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

As Harry moved towards him, Claudius stood his ground, continuing to glare. The look on Harry's face seemed to indicate that he, Claudius, was the one acting crazy, and Harry's words backed up this assumption.

"Who...are....you? Was the 'who' or the 'you' confusing? Wait. I'm sorry that was really rude of me, I'm just not thinking lately. Whoo!"

"You don't say," Claudius sneered, folding his arms across his chest as if to try and distance himself from his nephew and his incessant ramblings. He noticed Harry muttering under his breath but was unable to catch what he said; he found he didn't care as it was probably just as ridiculous as the rest of what Harry was saying.

"I'm so sorry, who ever you are. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's just that I wasn't expecting anyone being here but me."

Funny thing is, same here, Claudius thought. He said nothing more though, deciding to listen to Harry in case he started to make sense.

"I talk to him you know."

Claudius' eyes widened at Harry's words. What the...was he telling the truth? No, he couldn't be. Ghosts didn't exist. Hamlet Senior was dead. Those were the facts. That was the truth.

"I talk to him. Sometimes I think he's still alive. Crazy right? And he tells me things..."

Claudius flinched. What did he tell him? Inwardly he began to panic but outwardly he somehow managed to retain a semblance of calm (considering he was already quite angry). He moved forward slightly, as if to hear Harry better. What if he'd told him...

"Like...how to be a prince."

"How to be a prince?" Claudius repeated, his tone an unintentional mixture of relief and disbelief as his panic began to fade. Of course Hamlet Senior wouldn't tell Harry the truth...he didn't even exist to tell it. He was dead and gone and Harry was simply acting like a madman.

Right?

"It was my nickname so it makes sense right? A real prince. If I could sword fight - or have a castle....I've always wanted a castle, haven't you? Ditch the business, ditch Hamlet Enterprises...and ride a horse. Or something. Quite a freeing thought."

It was probably due to a combination of the alcohol in his system and his ego that Claudius considered a castle a good idea. However he managed to jerk himself back to reality, provided this whole encounter wasn't some crazy alcohol infused hallucination, in time to hear what Harry said next.

"How does it go? I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing....uh, Roman Catholic choirs are singing...once you go there was never, never an honest word...but that was when I ruled the world...da da da da da da da da..."

Claudius raised an eyebrow. Before he really thought it through he interrupted, cutting Harry off.

"Is that...all he tells you?"

At best it was as though he was trying to play along with Harry's ramblings. At worst...let's just say Claudius already regretted saying it.

[hamlet]

"Is that...all he tells you?"

This was a question that interrupted his singing and brought Harry out of the moment in his acting, just for a second. He paused and looked up at Claudius, faking a bewildered/confused expression - but his thoughts were reeling a mile a minute. He was definitely not confused. There was something in Claudius voice, or so Harry thought. Why would he even ask that question? Why? Why would he if he had nothing to hide? Harry was certain there was strain in his voice - and earlier tension in his tone as Harry talked. There must be something he was keeping. Was it Hamlet's death? Harry couldn't be sure yet. All he knew was his crazy act was working. It was something he needed to keep going.

After a moments pause, Harry blinked at Claudius and shook his head. "No," He grinned and laughed a bit. "No, of course not, what are you crazy? I'm his son he tells me a lot of things. Lets see, he tells me how to be a prince, he tells me all the right shows to see because sometimes I waste my money on absolute shit and he's like 'no go to this one!' and he's usually right all the time. We talk about a few memories. Like when he took me to a bike show and I loved it or when we took that vacation to Morocco - No, we never did that." He paused. "...Ophelia..." He grinned and started laughing a bit. "I want to do that with Ophelia..."

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

The confused look Harry gave him following his last enquiry did little to settle the growing unease Claudius felt. Was that look an act or was it real? Was the way Harry was behaving an act, or was he truly mad? Claudius wished he knew.

"No,"

Inwardly, Claudius grimaced. Of course not.

"No, of course not, what are you crazy? I'm his son he tells me a lot of things. Lets see, he tells me how to be a prince, he tells me all the right shows to see because sometimes I waste my money on absolute shit and he's like 'no go to this one!' and he's usually right all the time. We talk about a few memories. Like when he took me to a bike show and I loved it or when we took that vacation to Morocco - No, we never did that. ...Ophelia...I want to do that with Ophelia..."

As Harry spoke about talking with Hamlet Senior and recalled memories the two of them had shared, he found his anger increasing tenfold. It was foolish when they were standing by his grave, but Claudius didn't want to be reminded of his deceased brother right now, especially not like this.

"Shut the hell up, Harry!"

Clearly this outburst had done little to quell Claudius' newly fuelled temper as he then moved swiftly towards his nephew and struck him across the face.

He regretted this almost as soon as the blow was struck; not that he was particularly concerned for Harry but more about what such a rash action could imply. Considering what Harry had been saying up until this point, Claudius was beginning to suspect that Harry knew something was afoot...the physical blow would surely have served to increase Harry's suspicions (if indeed they existed) that Claudius had something to hide.

ooc: Hope that works for you, Yols m'dear. (:

[hamlet]

The momentum of Claudius' attack forced Harry's face to the side, and Harry paused for a moment, recovering from the sting of the blow, before glaring back at Claudius. If this were anyone else, Harry would have been surprised. But no, he wasn't. This was typical Claudius - and it was a trait that only confirmed in his mind that Claudius was violent enough to murder someone.

Did Harry take the blow personally? No. Did he get angry? No. No, he kept in character. Because if he didn't, he knew he would throw accusations around and now was not the time to do that. If Harry started to attack Claudius back, what would it prove? How productive would that be?

Nothing would come of it. Harry's craziness proved to be what was effective and as much as he wanted to lash right back at Claudius, he thought things through to prevent himself from acting impulsively. Instead, as if affected by the blow, he looked at his uncle stunned and blurted - "Claudius." Blinking several times, he furrowed his brow. "You're Claudius." He put a hand to his face and adjusted his jaw a bit.

"Why the hell did you hit me?" The question didn't carry with it an angry tone - but more of a confused one.

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

As he watched Harry recover from the force of the blow, Claudius confirmed within himself that that had been completely the wrong approach to take. If anything it had worsened the situation and possibly confirmed some of Harry's suspicions...if indeed they existed. Claudius mentally shook himself. What was he thinking? Harry wasn't suspicious of him and he never would be, no matter what he said or how he acted. Harry would never know.

"Claudius."

The stunned look Harry was giving him, and this outburst, unsettled Claudius further. It seemed the blow had brought Harry to his senses...but shouldn't he be worried the fact Harry appeared to recognize him was due to the blow he had struck? Was that how Harry really saw him?

"You're Claudius."

Claudius said nothing, did nothing, unsure how to act now he'd made his anger known in more than words.

"Why the hell did you hit me?"

Harry sounded more confused than angry, and this puzzled his uncle. If Harry was behaving like any normal person surely he would have been furious - but his apparent confusion hinted that he wasn't quite himself.

For a moment Claudius considered donning his usual mask, the one of apparent sympathy and sincerely, the old kindly uncle routine, as if in an attempt to weaken the blow, as it were. He'd apologize. But even as he thought this he knew it wouldn't work. Even if Harry was mad he would see straight through it now. That and he felt no need nor wish to say sorry.

Instead, Claudius simply replied:

"What part of 'shut the hell up' did you not understand?"

[hamlet]

"What part of 'shut the hell up' did you not understand?"

Harry furrowed his brow, his eyes somewhat wide, looking at Claudius as if he were crazy. And like a true actor, this emotion was coming from somewhere real. Harry could not believe his uncle. No he wasn't shocked, but he was still appalled that Harry meant so little to him that - even if Harry had actually gone mad - this is how Claudius would take it. Should he be offended? Perhaps. But it was irrational to expect Claudius to care about anyone other than himself so Harry again pushed his feelings aside.

If Claudius had anything to do with Hamlet's death, which Harry was really starting to believe now, he'd have plenty of opportunity to act on his feelings.

Harry shook his head and suddenly brushed past Claudius, as if suddenly being completely aware of his surroundings and what was going on. "Why am I even talking to you? Why are you even here?" And why did Claudius want to shut him up so badly? Did he hit a nerve? Possibly. He turned around and pointed at him, now a tinge of anger starting to seep through his words. "And do me a favor. Don't hit me again." The bit of anger was purposeful and carefully placed.

Then his eyes went downcast in thought as he said in practically one breath, "So many ways that could have happened - imagine the momentum if I were struck just a little harder, my head could have hit the tombstone and if it were just hard enough, at just the right point, at just the right point - " He took a breath and looked up at Claudius. "No, no, no," He started pacing a bit. "Possibilities are wrong. Possibilities are...frightening. There's only what happened right? In the now. You hit me and I'm okay." He grinned a bit. "See? I'm okay. Your okay. We. Are...okay." He ended in triumphant relief.

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

As Harry stared at him wide eyed, Claudius simply glowered right back. He had been an idiot, he realized, to even have considered trying to weaken the blow's impact with the old act; he doubted he could have even pulled off blatantly fake sympathy with the look Harry was giving him.

Unsure if Harry would speak or not, Claudius said nothing. When Harry brushed past him however, he stepped backwards, as though trying to keep his distance lest he lose it again.

"Why am I even talking to you? Why are you even here?"

"I have every right-"

Claudius stopped speaking as Harry turned to face him again, pointing accusingly, his anger clear in his demeanour and his tone.

"And do me a favor. Don't hit me again."

His nephew's sudden anger where before he'd simply acted confused served to confirm, in Claudius' mind, that all was not as it seemed here. Was Harry mad? Although he'd certainly acted that way, his sudden clarity and anger indicated that he wasn't. If he was mad, surely such feelings wouldn't have surfaced?

It wasn't as though Claudius psychically shrank back, but his anger certainly seemed to fade a little. Was he afraid? A little. Not necessarily of what Harry might do to him now, but because of what Harry might know.

"So many ways that could have happened - imagine the momentum if I were struck just a little harder, my head could have hit the tombstone and if it were just hard enough, at just the right point, at just the right point - "

As Harry spoke, Claudius looked from him to the tombstone and back again, his fury now being quickly replaced by fear. What if, what if, what if... This hypothetical scenario seemed to be implying...but no. He couldn't be. Claudius shook his head. For the last time, he told himself, Harry knows nothing. Stop telling yourself he does. He doesn't.

"No, no, no. Possibilities are wrong. Possibilities are...frightening."

Claudius hated to admit that harry was right.

"There's only what happened right? In the now. You hit me and I'm okay. See? I'm okay. Your okay. We. Are...okay."

Okay was certainly not the right word. Harry's swing from craziness, to anger, to relief set alarm bells ringing, while the fact Claudius had been angry enough to actually strike Harry was wrong on a number of levels. He wasn't okay. Claudius wasn't okay. He and his nephew were anything but okay.

Claudius wasn't sure what to say, in case he set Harry off on another rant. Instead he simply nodded, somewhat stiffly.

[hamlet]

Harry sighed and gazed upon his uncle a moment, still faking relief in the moment when Claudius simply nodded. This was working. He had rendered him silent - but then after all what could Claudius say? In Harry's fits of "madness" there were glimmers of truth - Harry did this on purpose. And what could anyone say to a madman who was making the tension of a situation completely transparent? Without fear, without restraint - without the filters of what 'sane thought' would otherwise provide? And as much as Harry hated playing a role and rarely having one moment of authenticity, it was times like these that he came to love the art, at least for while.

Harry approached Claudius in calm easy steps, to show he wasn't being threatening. Once in front of him, he placed a firm hand on his shoulder - one that would have been a sign of friendship between men, of light-hearted ease. But this, of course, was anything but authentic. With a slight apologetic smile he looked into Claudius eyes and said. "...I'm sorry."

He furrowed his brow again a bit in seriousness and nodded as if he were convincing himself this was the right thing to do. In a way, he was. How ludicrous was he to say sorry to Claudius? But Harry knew this was something that would help in the long run. A false sense of security - this was what this whole 'madness' act was about, right? To show that in now way would Harry ever be in his right mind to figure out a murder. And this brief (although fake) want for peace is a perfect means to do that.

"Claudius, remember when I was younger?" He asked with a grin. "You'd always be the one to give me cash on my birthday and nothing else? My dad hated it. I mean, it was just something that anyone could do you know because...its not like we were short on cash right? But I was young then. I thought...it was thoughtful." His voice and expression went aloof, as if he were actually reliving the memories as he removed his hand. "Dear old uncle...." He blinked and came back to the present. "You remember that?"

(OOC- lemme know if that little story is not IC for Claudius )

[CLAUDIUS CHANDLER]

Claudius had not been sure what to expect throughout this conversation, of sorts, but was all the more so unaware now, in wake of Harry's apparent return to sanity. But if indeed this was an act and he wasn't mad...suffice to say Claudius was on alert for anything untoward he might say or do next.

Therefore, as Harry walked towards him, Claudius instinctively took a step backwards. It wasn't as though he was scared, of course he wasn't scared! The very idea of being scared of Harry was ludicrous. It was then Claudius became aware of how Harry was moving; calm, easy steps, as if he were approaching a frightened animal likely to run away.

Before Claudius could attempt to discern Harry's movements, his nephew placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Claudius' eyes darted from Harry's hand to his face and back again, clearly uncertain. The way Harry was looking at him, that small, sorry smile, made him stop however, but the look he was giving him was nowhere near as shocking as his words.

"...I'm sorry."

Inwardly Claudius was reeling from shock. Sorry? What did Harry have to apologize for? It was then Claudius reconsidered; what was he thinking? Harry had just gone and threatened him, hadn't he? Harry was destroying the reputation of Hamlet Enterprises and making the company a laughing stock. Harry had turned against Claudius all because he had taken his brother's place. Yes, he should be the one apologizing. Claudius had nothing to be sorry about. Hamlet Senior deserved it.

He would have apologized as well, if only out of politeness, but even now when he was warming to the idea of this apparent peace between them, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead he simply nodded again, the smallest of smiles on his face, as if to show Harry his anger had ebbed.

"Claudius, remember when I was younger?"

Claudius looked surprised, but said nothing. Where was Harry going with this?

"You'd always be the one to give me cash on my birthday and nothing else? My dad hated it. I mean, it was just something that anyone could do you know because...its not like we were short on cash right? But I was young then. I thought...it was thoughtful."

Claudius couldn't help it. In spite of his anger, his inward panic, the entire situation of standing in a graveyard with his nephew who was acting as though he was mad...in spite of all this, Claudius found himself laughing. How could he forget? His monetary gifts had never pleased his older brother in the slightest, but then Claudius wasn't exactly the type to buy presents for a nephew he often barely tolerated. He wasn't that sort of person. That and he loved getting on his brother's nerves.

"Dear old uncle....You remember that?"

It wasn't as though Claudius was sentimental or choked up at all, but his voice was very altered from how it had been prior to this when he spoke.

"How could I forget, Harry?" he replied, small smile still lingering.


(ooc: I assure you my dear, that story is perfectly IC. I love it! ;D You get points!)