Toy Soldiers: Here In November (PG)
Summary: If you can't even name the ghost, how can you help the haunted?
Notes: Third birthday snippet, for electrablue - the return of Dr. Gould's secretary. The title is from Poe's song "Haunted," which served as mood music. Spoilers for the end of the movie. Also, see prompt 88, "school."
HERE IN NOVEMBER
Regis School is haunted.
Not in the literal sense -- not that Electra Simmons would be able to tell, unfortunately. She loves a good ghost story, but she's never seen a ghost no matter how hard she tried. Besides, she has no way of finding out where to look on the school grounds. The students have been sent home, as have as many of the teachers as they could, and the board of directors have hired professional people to clean up the bloodstains and the bullet holes. Next semester, they're saying. We'll open again next semester.
Dr. Gould thinks they should open sooner.
He says it's because it's important that they shouldn't give in, that if they allow a random outbreak of violence, even one as terrible as this one, to interrupt the process of education, then the terrorists will have won after all. But when he's not fired up, he looks as lost and empty as the halls, and Electra has already caught him crying twice when he didn't think she was there. The first time, he wiped his eyes quickly and made some weak excuse about the cleaners' chemicals. The second time, he greeted her and asked her to put on water for tea, exactly as if tears weren't leaking down his cheeks.
There are still bloodstains on the floor, and bullet scars on the walls. The bullets she understands: it was all over the news, how the Army bravely stormed the school and took down the terrorists. But the news didn't cover where the bloodstains came from. She isn't even sure who's dead, besides the terrorists and one unnamed student.
At last she sets down her notebook and says straight-out, "What happened?"
"Pardon?" Dr. Gould blinks at her over the pile of lists that he's been staring at blankly for the past ten minutes.
"I'm sorry, sir. I know what the news says happened. I just..." She hesitates, gathering her nerve, and leans forward, taking his hand in hers. "Are you all right?"
There's a long pause, more than long enough for her to wonder what she's just done. Then he musters a small smile (still larger than anything she's seen since That Day), and clasps her hand in both his. "I've been better," he says gently. "But I'll be all right. I'm a tough old thing. You needn't worry."
She's almost certain it's not her imagination that he sits a little straight when he lets her go, and they both return to their paperwork.
Regis is haunted. But even if she's not an exorcist, maybe she can help a little.
This confidence lasts for less than a week. She's stepped out to photocopy something and comes back to find him on the phone, silently listening to whoever's on the other end, so still he could have been carved from stone. She hesitates in the doorway for a moment, but he doesn't look up at her, so she sets down the photocopies he requested on the usual corner of his desk, and retreats to her outer office.
She keeps an eye on the clock, so she knows it's fifteen minutes later that she hears a startled, "Oh!" and Dr. Gould appears in the connecting doorway. "I'm very sorry, my dear, I didn't even see you there."
"That's what I thought," she says, trying for light amusement and not quite succeeding. "Was it bad news?"
He comes over and hitches himself on the corner of her desk, the way he used to when they were talking. "The same news, I'm afraid. They think we should 'allow it to fade' before we re-open." He didn't say what 'it' was, but he doesn't really need to. "Utter nonsense. The distraction would help far more than allowing everyone time to dwell on it."
She can't help it: she pounces on this. Politely, of course. It's the first time he's even hinted properly at what really happened, the parts she doesn't know about. "Sir?"
"Well. Some of us, anyway." He shrugs, and looks off into the hallway. "The bloodstains don't help. Not that I was here when most of the blood was spilt. Mr. Tepper and his friends bundled me downstairs with the rest of the students, and I was certainly the safer for it."
She waits to see if he'll say anything else, and finally says, "That's good, then." Tepper...who is Tepper? One of the students? The name sounds familiar, but she can't place it immediately.
"A bit embarrassing," Dr. Gould says ruefully. "No one would like to think he's the sort who should be bundled off into safety, rather than make a valiant stand." He makes a fist and gestures with it a little, as if to indicate the sort of 'valient stand' he wishes he'd been able to make, then stands up again. "I'll have to make up for it now, I suppose."
"Of course, sir." Electra would like to say something about valiant stands, but she can't make the words come out properly, not before he's back in his office. As an exorcism, it needs work, she thinks sadly.
Autumn trickles on. Electra keeps her eyes open on Halloween, but she sees nothing except trees that have lost their leaves and the ever-increasing pile of papers on Dr. Gould's desk. There's a small stack of folders on one corner that he never seems to touch, but he won't let her clear away either. She peeks at them when he isn't looking. One of them is for William Tepper, who must be the Tepper he mentioned before, but she doesn't recognize any of the others. She hopes it's some sort of good luck charm, and nothing to do with the fixed look in his eyes, but there are only so many lies she can tell herself before she loses her ability to believe.
Then the board finally agrees to open the school again.
It's a Friday morning, gloomy and raw: Electra has already brought Dr. Gould two cups of tea, and is keeping half an eye on the clock so she won't bring another too soon. She's typing up notes and thinking vaguely of lunch, and whether she can persuade Dr. Gould to join her, when the phone rings. The door between inner and outer office is open, so she stops and listens shamelessly.
It's good news. But Dr. Gould doesn't sound happy.
She waits, instead of bouncing up to congratulate him, and sure enough he comes to the doorway. "You heard?"
"Yes," she says. "It's wonderful."
"I hope so," he mutters, just quietly enough that she's not sure she was meant to hear, then more loudly, "Remind me to call the padre this afternoon. We'll need to have a memorial assembly. The dead really deserve a plaque or something, but that will have to wait."
"Sir?"
This time, it works. "Three people died during the attack," Dr. Gould says. His eyes are fixed on nothing. "Frank Ingram from the front gate, Jesse Miller who taught here for six years, and Joseph Trotta, one of the students."
"Oh no." They'd mentioned that on the news, hadn't they? They must have, one student lost. "Did you know him?"
It's an unutterably stupid question: of course he knew them all, he knows everyone here. But she doesn't get the polite chuckle and gently teasing reminder that she would've gotten before. Instead, he sighs and looks away. "I...I told him to go."
"Sir--"
"At least one of them would be safe, I thought. God knows none of the rest of us were: they were ready to shoot us all as soon as look at us. But Mr. Trotta's father had gotten him passage off the grounds. I told him to accept, to stop struggling and just go."
And this Joseph Trotta hadn't. "It's not your fault," Electra says fiercely. "You weren't responsible--"
Dr. Gould looks at her, really at her and not just in her direction. "This is my school," he says simply. "It's been my life for fifteen years. Everything here is my responsibility."
"But you could have died!"
"Yes. Well."
Electra has the urge to shake him, as if he were a stubborn child. But she's his secretary, and secretaries can't do that sort of thing. All she can do is repeat, even more fiercely, "You weren't responsible," and watch him shrug.
Regis School is haunted. And someday, somehow, Electra is going to lay those ghosts to rest, no matter what she has to do, because she will not stand for Dr. Gould to be haunted too.
-end-
Notes: Third birthday snippet, for electrablue - the return of Dr. Gould's secretary. The title is from Poe's song "Haunted," which served as mood music. Spoilers for the end of the movie. Also, see prompt 88, "school."
HERE IN NOVEMBER
Regis School is haunted.
Not in the literal sense -- not that Electra Simmons would be able to tell, unfortunately. She loves a good ghost story, but she's never seen a ghost no matter how hard she tried. Besides, she has no way of finding out where to look on the school grounds. The students have been sent home, as have as many of the teachers as they could, and the board of directors have hired professional people to clean up the bloodstains and the bullet holes. Next semester, they're saying. We'll open again next semester.
Dr. Gould thinks they should open sooner.
He says it's because it's important that they shouldn't give in, that if they allow a random outbreak of violence, even one as terrible as this one, to interrupt the process of education, then the terrorists will have won after all. But when he's not fired up, he looks as lost and empty as the halls, and Electra has already caught him crying twice when he didn't think she was there. The first time, he wiped his eyes quickly and made some weak excuse about the cleaners' chemicals. The second time, he greeted her and asked her to put on water for tea, exactly as if tears weren't leaking down his cheeks.
There are still bloodstains on the floor, and bullet scars on the walls. The bullets she understands: it was all over the news, how the Army bravely stormed the school and took down the terrorists. But the news didn't cover where the bloodstains came from. She isn't even sure who's dead, besides the terrorists and one unnamed student.
At last she sets down her notebook and says straight-out, "What happened?"
"Pardon?" Dr. Gould blinks at her over the pile of lists that he's been staring at blankly for the past ten minutes.
"I'm sorry, sir. I know what the news says happened. I just..." She hesitates, gathering her nerve, and leans forward, taking his hand in hers. "Are you all right?"
There's a long pause, more than long enough for her to wonder what she's just done. Then he musters a small smile (still larger than anything she's seen since That Day), and clasps her hand in both his. "I've been better," he says gently. "But I'll be all right. I'm a tough old thing. You needn't worry."
She's almost certain it's not her imagination that he sits a little straight when he lets her go, and they both return to their paperwork.
Regis is haunted. But even if she's not an exorcist, maybe she can help a little.
This confidence lasts for less than a week. She's stepped out to photocopy something and comes back to find him on the phone, silently listening to whoever's on the other end, so still he could have been carved from stone. She hesitates in the doorway for a moment, but he doesn't look up at her, so she sets down the photocopies he requested on the usual corner of his desk, and retreats to her outer office.
She keeps an eye on the clock, so she knows it's fifteen minutes later that she hears a startled, "Oh!" and Dr. Gould appears in the connecting doorway. "I'm very sorry, my dear, I didn't even see you there."
"That's what I thought," she says, trying for light amusement and not quite succeeding. "Was it bad news?"
He comes over and hitches himself on the corner of her desk, the way he used to when they were talking. "The same news, I'm afraid. They think we should 'allow it to fade' before we re-open." He didn't say what 'it' was, but he doesn't really need to. "Utter nonsense. The distraction would help far more than allowing everyone time to dwell on it."
She can't help it: she pounces on this. Politely, of course. It's the first time he's even hinted properly at what really happened, the parts she doesn't know about. "Sir?"
"Well. Some of us, anyway." He shrugs, and looks off into the hallway. "The bloodstains don't help. Not that I was here when most of the blood was spilt. Mr. Tepper and his friends bundled me downstairs with the rest of the students, and I was certainly the safer for it."
She waits to see if he'll say anything else, and finally says, "That's good, then." Tepper...who is Tepper? One of the students? The name sounds familiar, but she can't place it immediately.
"A bit embarrassing," Dr. Gould says ruefully. "No one would like to think he's the sort who should be bundled off into safety, rather than make a valiant stand." He makes a fist and gestures with it a little, as if to indicate the sort of 'valient stand' he wishes he'd been able to make, then stands up again. "I'll have to make up for it now, I suppose."
"Of course, sir." Electra would like to say something about valiant stands, but she can't make the words come out properly, not before he's back in his office. As an exorcism, it needs work, she thinks sadly.
Autumn trickles on. Electra keeps her eyes open on Halloween, but she sees nothing except trees that have lost their leaves and the ever-increasing pile of papers on Dr. Gould's desk. There's a small stack of folders on one corner that he never seems to touch, but he won't let her clear away either. She peeks at them when he isn't looking. One of them is for William Tepper, who must be the Tepper he mentioned before, but she doesn't recognize any of the others. She hopes it's some sort of good luck charm, and nothing to do with the fixed look in his eyes, but there are only so many lies she can tell herself before she loses her ability to believe.
Then the board finally agrees to open the school again.
It's a Friday morning, gloomy and raw: Electra has already brought Dr. Gould two cups of tea, and is keeping half an eye on the clock so she won't bring another too soon. She's typing up notes and thinking vaguely of lunch, and whether she can persuade Dr. Gould to join her, when the phone rings. The door between inner and outer office is open, so she stops and listens shamelessly.
It's good news. But Dr. Gould doesn't sound happy.
She waits, instead of bouncing up to congratulate him, and sure enough he comes to the doorway. "You heard?"
"Yes," she says. "It's wonderful."
"I hope so," he mutters, just quietly enough that she's not sure she was meant to hear, then more loudly, "Remind me to call the padre this afternoon. We'll need to have a memorial assembly. The dead really deserve a plaque or something, but that will have to wait."
"Sir?"
This time, it works. "Three people died during the attack," Dr. Gould says. His eyes are fixed on nothing. "Frank Ingram from the front gate, Jesse Miller who taught here for six years, and Joseph Trotta, one of the students."
"Oh no." They'd mentioned that on the news, hadn't they? They must have, one student lost. "Did you know him?"
It's an unutterably stupid question: of course he knew them all, he knows everyone here. But she doesn't get the polite chuckle and gently teasing reminder that she would've gotten before. Instead, he sighs and looks away. "I...I told him to go."
"Sir--"
"At least one of them would be safe, I thought. God knows none of the rest of us were: they were ready to shoot us all as soon as look at us. But Mr. Trotta's father had gotten him passage off the grounds. I told him to accept, to stop struggling and just go."
And this Joseph Trotta hadn't. "It's not your fault," Electra says fiercely. "You weren't responsible--"
Dr. Gould looks at her, really at her and not just in her direction. "This is my school," he says simply. "It's been my life for fifteen years. Everything here is my responsibility."
"But you could have died!"
"Yes. Well."
Electra has the urge to shake him, as if he were a stubborn child. But she's his secretary, and secretaries can't do that sort of thing. All she can do is repeat, even more fiercely, "You weren't responsible," and watch him shrug.
Regis School is haunted. And someday, somehow, Electra is going to lay those ghosts to rest, no matter what she has to do, because she will not stand for Dr. Gould to be haunted too.
-end-