A Ghost Upon the Floor (Chase/ casual)

[hamlet]

Holidays had come and gone and Harry didn't even notice them. Life seemed to lose more and more meaning, even as he went through the motions. He went to work, he came home, he conducted business, gave interviews to the New York Times did it all over again. But he still was only a shell of who he was before his father died - time had not been kind to him and time did not make things easier. But Harry expected as much.

The image of his father kept haunting him. In his sleep, while he was awake, everywhere. This wasn't just the leftovers of unacknowledged grief, this was more than that. And more and more, Harry convinced himself that his father was telling him something. Something about Claudius and his death. The only conclusion Harry could come up with was that Claudius had something to do with his death.

And why wouldn't he - when Claudius was making the most of his new position now that his father was dead? Making who knows what kind of deals with the new (and probably corrupt, if he was friends with Claudius) mayor, buying up businesses, and doing everything possible to ruin the integrity of the company Hamlet built from the ground up. Harry's father's death was the best thing that could've happened to Claudius.

So Harry made a conscious effort to act on his suspicions. He put on his "crazy" role, even doing so for the newspaper, just to make it more authentic, more believable. Then Claudius would never suspect that he was investigating him - that he was even in the right mind to investigate him. To Claudius, Harry was crippled with grief - he wasn't even an issue.

But if Harry found out anything, he definitely would be.

But doing so, analyzing Claudius' every move, every sentence he spoke, was driving Harry into an obsessive mode that even Harry knew was destructive. And when he kept seeing his dead father's image, literally, in front of him - silently telling him to keep analyzing, to try to redeem his memory, he began to question his own sanity.

He couldn't go to anyone with this. He couldn't tell anyone that his dead father was haunting him - that everything was...just an act. He couldn't tell anyone that he was, like a good actor, playing 3 versions of himself.

But as he tried to de-stress after finishing a large workload at the office, a name popped into his mind. Chase. He hadn't seen him since Christmas, though they've spoken on the phone a few times. For some reason Harry remembered what happened that day, when Chase seemed traumatized by the bird that flew into the apartment - and how he spoke about Lenore before passing out. Harry and Jane had made sure Chase got the care he needed, but since then - Harry had been so busy within his own life to worry about Chase's.

But something about Chase's grief with Lenore struck a cord with Harry, so he had to call to make sure he was okay a few times. Indecisively, every time he did, he tried to figure out if he should ask what exactly happened that day. Harry always talked himself out of it, just to regret not asking when he hung up. A part of him wondered if Chase was experiencing the same thing Harry was experiencing with his father.

So it was now the day after the 4th of July, another holiday come and gone...and Harry felt the urge to drive to Chase's apartment, just to talk, just to visit. Just to...possibly ask him that very personal question about what happened the day he passed out - why did the bird give him such a scare?

And that he did after work. He made his way to Chase's apartment and knocked on the door, still in his work suit - looking absentmindedly at the apartment number on the door.

[chase]

Sometimes Chase wondered just what it was like to die. He had imagined what it might be like, to spend eternity down there in Hell. Murderers always went to Hell. He hadn't meant it, not for a moment, but what did that matter when the woman he loved was dead, and it was all his fault?

He could remember that night clearly now. He hadn't been able to forget it again. Not since the raven. They had been arguing, and she'd been hit in the head by a falling bust of Pallas Athena after he pushed her into a wall. He had asked her whether she was okay, and she'd assured him she was fine, just a little dizzy. She'd still been mad though, reasonably (he assumed; he couldn't remember what they had been fighting about now), and had left his apartment soon after that. She must have passed out on the way home, he thought. Not that it mattered. He was still guilty.

Since then, since that bleak December night, he had not mentioned the raven or his memories to anyone, aside from Jane and Harry, who he thought must have heard him utter the confession before he blacked out. They had made sure he had medical help that night, but he wasn't sure what either of them really thought of him now. He was surprised how much it hurt that he hadn't heard from Jane since. He thought he must have scared her, which was fair, since he'd also scared himself. Still, he missed having her around. She had really cared, she'd had a way of comforting him just by being there. What was she doing now?

Harry, on the other hand, called Chase every now and then, but Chase wasn't sure how to take that. Maybe Harry was really concerned and trying to be a friend, or maybe he just felt obligated to help the crazy guy. How could Chase know the difference? But it was nice to have someone to talk to who understood what he was going through. They had bonded over death, in a cemetery, after all.

When Harry called, Chase tried to be interesting and conversational, but he never really felt all there. He hadn't felt all there since that Christmas get-together. Days had passed, and all felt the same. He'd gone to work, slept, called his parents now and then, liked his friends' posts on social networks, and all the required niceties. He felt like he was sleepwalking through it all. That was when he thought about death, and that was when he wondered if he wasn't already dead. He felt like it sometimes. Unresponsive, vacant, totally uninterested in the things he'd once enjoyed. He hated the feeling, and yet he couldn't fight it. Some days, when he had nothing to do, he just laid around the house. Slept, curled up on the couch. Not with a book, just with his thoughts dragging him deeper and deeper.

It was one of those days. Chase was dressed in jeans and an old shirt, because as he'd woken up, he'd planned to go get food from the grocery down the street, but had been too exhausted to do so by the time he was pulling on his shoes. So he was lying on the sofa again when he heard a knock at the door.

"Hang on." Chase dragged himself into a sitting position. He figured it was the landlord or his parents or something, and had half a mind to tell them where they could go with their knocking, but was still too polite to do that, as he was too polite to not call his parents weekly as he had always done. But when he was on his feet and at the door- passing under the bust, where the raven had been- he saw his guest was Harry. Oddly enough, he found he actually felt glad to see Harry.

He opened wide the door, and gave Harry the best smile he could manage, which wasn't much, but at least it was genuine. Good to see you, Harry. Come on in." Stepping inside, Harry might find that the air felt a little stale, as if no one had been home in a couple of months, but that everything was nice and orderly, though not exactly cheery. The curtains were still drawn; Chase had to open one to let some light in. Chase's dark hair was slightly askew as well, though he seemed oblivious to it, and everything else.

"Make yourself at home," Chase said with a little wave of his hand. "How's it going?" To him, his own voice sounded thin and tired, almost alien to him, who had been so upbeat a long time ago. He sat on the couch again, though it was more like collapsing than sitting, and tried to look as sane and nonchalant as he could manage.

[hamlet]

Harry gave his usual grin at Chase's welcome. “Thanks,” He said, walking inside.

It was hard to not notice how tired and drained Chase looked and since Harry wasn't rendered completely cold-hearted, despite all the reasons why he should be, he couldn't help but be concerned. Even though they don't talk very much, Harry was beginning to admit to himself that he probably could consider Chase a friend. It was a weird concept to Harry, since he couldn't trust anyone enough to make friends lately. And he was too preoccupied in his own mess to worry about others. Yet with Chase, he was a guy who didn't seem interested in the money-hungry world of wall street or even being anywhere close to it. He was devoid of the makings of businessmen, and that means he was somewhat...well, safe, for Harry.

Somewhat.

Harry had no idea if he had read the papers lately or seen the reports of his 'crazy' fits in public. And minus that time when he was drunk in the cemetery, Chase was the only one he didn't 'act' for. So who knows what the guy thought about him now. Chase wouldn't be surprised if he regarded him with caution.

"Make yourself at home," he said and Harry did, taking a seat in one of the arm chairs by the couch and loosening his tie a bit. "How's it going?"

“Did you really have to ask me that?” Harry said, smirking a bit jokingly even if he was somewhat serious. He didn’t even know how to answer that question. “I just got done working and,” He furrowed his brow a bit. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.” Those words sounded strange to him as he said it. Looking slightly uneasy, Harry felt that maybe Chase might take them wrong – or maybe think that Harry felt that Chase needed ‘checking up’ on or something like that. Not his intent.

So Harry stopped there and looked at Chase for a response.

[chase]

It was nice to see an old acquaintance, even if Chase wasn't sure he was in any condition to entertain. It was better than the alternative, at least - the alternative being him lying around the apartment like he did every day. That had gotten boring really quickly, but it was all he could get himself to do lately. He didn't leave his place, or sometimes even his bed, unless something urgent or uncontrollable prompted him to. Harry's visit was the latter. That wasn't a bad thing. Now Chase had to actually be active instead of letting his body atrophy while he slept and cried all day and night.

Chase had not been reading the news, or watching TV, or listening to the radio. Had he known news of his friends - Harry included - would be in the media, he might have paid greater attention to it. But that possibility never crossed his mind, so he didn't. And even if he had, he probably would not have cared. It was enough for him to know that his friends remained alive and relatively well. Even as he was floundering in the mess of his own life.

Harry found a seat, and explained his reason for stopping by. Chase did notice that Harry hadn't really answered his question about how it was going. Harry must be still grieving for his father, Chase figured. He knew how that went. Even after his unexpected and unwanted revelation - or reminder - about how Lenore had died, Chase was still mourning her loss. And hating himself. That much was required.

“I just got done working and... I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.”

Chase smiled a little. He hadn't thought anyone would bother checking on him, especially not in person. Sure, his parents called every now and the, and he called them when he could, but on both ends, that felt more like a familial commitment than genuine concern for his well-being. But Harry hadn't had to stop by, or call on those occasions when he had. So Chase thought that was kind of cool.

"Thanks," Chase said, though he felt as though he should say something more. Something about how much he appreciated being thought of, or how nice it was to talk to someone other than himself for a change. But he couldn't find the right words, the right way to say such things, so he left it alone. Maybe the smile would be enough.

Chase would have liked nothing more than to just talk idly about unimportant stuff. He could forget his sadness over Lenore for a little while, and Harry could be free of his grief-filled thoughts for a moment. But there was something Chase wanted to clear up first, so he wouldn't stumble through the conversation wondering just what this friend of his really thought of him. So after a brief pause, he coughed a little, and his eyes involuntarily went up and over to the bust of Pallas atop the door frame. There was no raven there anymore, and Chase had no idea what had happened to the bird; but even without the creature present, Chase still felt as though he were living in its shadow.

"So, um... about last time. Christmas, I mean. I'm really sorry about... about how things happened. And I wanted to thank you. You and Jane. But... you must think I'm crazy, right? Both of you. I mean, I was talking to a bird." The chuckle he ended the sentence with sounded forced, because it was. There was nothing amusing about being seen as crazy by one of the few people who remained at his side.

[hamlet]

(soooooooooooooo sorry for the extra long wait, muselessness + RL + Working on Revamp = sucky posting from Yols. BTW, I dunno if you can sense what I'm setting up here, but if you agree - I'd love to have Chase as Harry's "Horatio" figure )

"Thanks,"

Harry smirked a bit, and nodded. "You're welcome." As strange as this all was, something about this felt good. He felt in the world for the first time in a while, instead of inside his own bubble of grief, calculations, planning, and work. This simple act of visiting Chase reminded Harry of the man he once was, the man he could no longer recognize - who probably didn't even exist anymore. So as much as Harry recognized the feeling, he knew not to latch on to it. It never lasts.

Harry looked at Chase when he coughed and noticed his gaze go upwards. Harry didn't even need to turn around to know what he was looking at. That bird must have still troubled Chase even months and months after it had left his apartment. What ever this bird meant to Chase, or however it was connected to Lenore, must haunt him. There was no doubt about it. That bust would have no meaning otherwise. And just like Harry's father, Chase probably couldn't escape from it.

Or this could be wishful thinking on Harry's part.

Really, what was he doing? How selfish was he to come to this man's apartment on some ridiculous whim that he was being haunted by visions and ghosts - that were probably only a figment of Harry's own imagination? And to even, for a moment, feel good about it? This was a new low that even Harry couldn't fathom. He opened his mouth to say 'ya know, I probably should go' - which would've probably been the best decision he made in like a year but Chase spoke first.

"So, um... about last time. Christmas, I mean. I'm really sorry about... about how things happened. And I wanted to thank you. You and Jane. But... you must think I'm crazy, right? Both of you. I mean, I was talking to a bird."

Harry took a breath to say something but paused for a brief second, suddenly not knowing how to respond. He should really go now. Harry was not the one to assure anyone of anyone's sanity. He'll just stick to his day job.

But for some reason, Harry couldn't leave. What happened that day last year brought him here and something about it made him want to stay. So here goes another probably very poor decision:

"Trust me, I've probably got you beat in the crazy department." Harry responded with a bit of a sigh. Maybe he should just fess up - but then he'd be sitting there looking mighty stupid if Chase didn't understand where he was coming from. Ugh, what the heck was he doing here?

"...I mean, there's no need to apologize." He added more seriously, his sentences seemed to be made with caution, and Harry thought he was making it way to easy for Chase to figure out he was tip toeing around something. If only he was good at acting when he wasn't acting...

...and if only he was good at making sense even in his own head. Because that would be helpful.

"Because I guess I know where you're coming from, " He stated, knitting his brow again in bemusement. "The bird had something to do with Lenore, right?"

[chase]

(OOC - no worries, lol. And Chase as Harry's Horatio would be awesoooooooome. =) )

Since awkwardness had become a very routine part of Chase's life, Chase thought little of the unexpected visit, as far as Harry's reasoning or whatever brought him here. What mattered was that he was here and Chase had to clean up his act for at least the next while. And that Harry didn't think he was fully insane. Chase was hoping he was right on that count. Appearing at someone's house meant you didn't think that person was crazy, right? Chase wanted to believe so.

He brought up the Christmas incident just to make sure. He had to know. Maybe he would regret it later, when Harry decided to leave the crazy bastard alone. But Chase had not been making the best decisions lately anyway, so what the hell, right?

"Trust me, I've probably got you beat in the crazy department."

Chase thought about that for a moment. He knew Harry's grief over his father's passing was about as profound as - or maybe more than - his grief over Lenore, but that didn't make Harry crazy. It wasn't like Harry was going around talking to birds. Chase was about to make a half-joking comment in that vein, but Harry continued, more earnestly this time.

"...I mean, there's no need to apologize."

Chase tried to smile, but faltered, partly because of his own sadness and partly because there was something in Harry's voice, or more a pause or two between his words, that gave Chase the impression that there was something Harry was not saying. Chase sat up straighter and rubbed his brow, forcing himself to pay better attention. Either Harry really did think Chase was insane, or there was something going on with his friend that needed to be addressed.

"Because I guess I know where you're coming from. The bird had something to do with Lenore, right?"

Harry knew where Chase was coming from? The grief, Chase supposed, but unless Harry was having paranoid hallucinations too, Chase wasn't sure what to make of that comment. He would have to get Harry to explain, but how, without being too forward or offensive.... Though Chase himself did not realize it then, Harry had achieved something no one else had yet managed since December: he had gotten Chase to focus on something other than Lenore and his grief over her.

"Yeah. I thought it did, at least. I thought the bird had something to do with Lenore. I was hearing it repeat a word, like it was answering me." A shudder ran through Chase's frame. He remembered that night vividly, could easily recall the way the bird had looked and sounded, still felt the feat and confusion he had felt then.

Shaking his head, Chase looked up at Harry. "I think you do know where I'm coming from. Is something going on, Harry? I mean, I don't mean to intrude, but... I'm asking as a friend, a concerned friend."

[hamlet]

"Yeah. I thought it did, at least. I thought the bird had something to do with Lenore. I was hearing it repeat a word, like it was answering me."

Harry though he felt a shudder go through him as well when Chase explained this. To any one else, what he said might have sounded absolutely insane. A bird (that's not a parrot) talking back to someone? Drugs must definitely be in the mix here. But to Harry? He was the last person that would (or should) reign judgment on Chase. And he was hesitant to explain why. A part of him felt that he should - he's been holding on to this secret for so long and with Chase talking to birds - surely he'd understand. Maybe there's some condition they had. Maybe they need to go get themselves checked out. That would be the logical thing to do.

But a part of him screamed not to tell him. He couldn't afford to. It would ruin everything he's planned thus far. Not to mention the fact that Harry wasn't really crazy....supposedly? In any case, Harry knew in his gut that Claudius was up to something. He knew it had to be about his father's death. He had to expose his guilt and he needed people to believe he was crazy and that he wasn't scheming against his uncle. It just had to happen and if he told Chase what was really going on, it might ruin everything.

But despite being secretive for so long, Harry actually wasn't very good at it. He didn't like it and holding on to everything that was really going on with him was literally eating him up inside - along with his grief. Before his father died, Harry wouldn't even think to come up with something this elaborate - to put on a face for so many different people. But extreme circumstances brought out something extreme within him - or many extremes for that matter. And as crazy as seeing ghosts seemed - a very very strong part of him believed that it was a legitimate sign.

"I think you do know where I'm coming from. Is something going on, Harry? I mean, I don't mean to intrude, but... I'm asking as a friend, a concerned friend."

Despite Harry's extensive inner thoughts, it only took a moment in between sentences for Chase to say this. Harry looked at him, suddenly at a loss of what to say. All that thinking, all the mulling over his options did him no good now that he was faced with a direct fork in the road. He paused, brow knitted - also taken aback by his admission that he was a "concerned friend." Harry supposed that would be true - especially considering that he hadn't had many of those in recent months. Just by chance, Chase really had been the only one he could trust. The first time they met, he didn't go to the media blasting news about his encounter with drunk Harry, he didn't try to use his association with him to milk his wealth.

If Harry was going to tell anyone this - he couldn't think of anyone else but Chase. After all, he did just say he thought a bird talked to him, they were pretty much in the same boat.

"Well..." Harry started. "You can definitely say that something is going on." His gaze diverted downwards. He never said this to anyone - not even his own mother.

"I've...been seeing my father. Ever since he died I've been seeing him - like he's a ghost. At first it started..." he swallowed hard, and looked up at Chase - an uncharacteristically vulnerable look in his eyes. "It started as these dreams. Vivid dreams. And then I'd see him, mostly when I was intoxicated. Until...now. Now I could be at work, look up - and there he is. My dead - very dead - father. So vivid, so real....its like...." His brow furrowed in a somewhat pained and conflicted expression. He couldn't find the words to finish the sentence so he simply shock his head. He could see the haunting images now, he could feel his heart racing even now as he spoke about it.

He swallowed again and said, his voice holding somewhat of a grave edge to it, "Clearly, I know where you're coming from." Now that it was all out there, Harry had no idea how Chase would react. He already started to convince himself that this was a very, very bad idea before Chase even uttered a word.