❝Take me home.❞

─────── 

FIFTEEN | LACHRYMOSE

"You're going straight to bed," I said to Josh as we climbed up the stairs to the flat, I was checking the bills I took from the small table in the entrance, "I don't believe for a second that you're 'perfectly fine' I know when you lie."

We got in the flat and I took Josh to his bedroom; he'd look a little spaced out sometimes. My fingers made contact with his hand and I noticed how warm it was, therefore I led the back of my hand to his cheeks and forehead, "I need you to lie down for a while, you're warm." I said to him as I made my was to his bathroom and took a wet towel to put it on his forehead and make his temperature go down. He had been complaining about a cold the whole week, add some hours in a freezing house and the fact of seeing a ghost and being thrown against a wall, I was slightly surprised Josh wasn't worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him taking off his shirt and keeping the vest he was wearing underneath it and then he crawled into bed.

"Did you see the look in her eyes?" I heard him asking when I walked out of the bathroom. I quickened my pace towards him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Josh, stop thinking about it, you're safe now," I combed back his hair with my fingers and then I put the wet towel on his forehead and he tried to put it away by saying he was fine. I had to stop myself from telling him 'I told you not to come', I kept caressing his hair instead, "You just need to sleep, you'll feel better afterwards." I said softly and he slowly began to drift off.

He was okay, except for a sore arm, a headache and well, he was in some kind of shock, but nothing he couldn't recover from. I was as tired as him, I had to drive all the way back to London in Josh's car and left mine in Allerdale Hall, which made me a little worried, but deep down I knew that being in that cursed place nobody would go and try to steal it.

I went to the bathroom like a million times to refresh the towel and put it back on Josh's forehead and he'd open his eyes every time. I was really having a hard time to make him sleep. After a while, I felt myself nodding off, I was so tired, but I didn't want to leave him alone.

Some minutes passed by and he had already fallen asleep by the time the doorbell rang, making him jerk half awake, but this time he rolled on his side and groaned a bit, "I'll get that, just go back to sleep." I said softly as I got up from bed.

I heard my own footsteps on the wooden floor and I jogged to the door, trying to comb my hair with my fingers at the same time so I wouldn't look like a mad woman.

I opened the door and the expression on my face darkened. Before me, stood the man I thought I had left behind in my little trip to Spain. My eyes glared at him and he avoided them. His jacket hung from his arm and he held a book in his hands; I waited for him to speak but he only stood there.

"What do you want, what are you doing here?" I shot and he looked up at me.

"I need to tell you something." He said in that perfectly articulated voice of his and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"And you couldn't tell me so in the hotel? How did you know I live here?"

"Same way you knew where I live," he said, "do you think you're the only one who can track down a person?" I ignored him.

"You've come to take me to a psychiatric hospital, don't you?" Nicholas shut his eyes for a second.

"Listen," he said, "I know you're angry with me and it's understandable, I want to apologise for everything I said, for everything I implied, I'm sorry, Adeline, I mean it," he had come to say sorry, I opened my mouth to utter the most sarcastic response I could formulate, yet he interrupted and spoke first, "Please, I want to have a civilised conversation with you, I didn't take a plane to have a silly argument with you, none of us will solve anything with an argument." I thought twice before stepping on a side and opening wide the door, indicating him to go into the flat. He dedicated me a small smile and I shut the door.

"Give me your jacket," I said in order to put it on the coat hooks by the door.

"I'm okay, thanks." I raised an eyebrow.

"Take a seat, then." I mumbled, "What is it you need to tell me?" I said, grabbing a cushion and sitting on the couch across from him. He looked down at the book in his hands and ran his hand on the red cover with a hint of sadness on his face.

"This was my father's," he paused, opening the book which was, in fact, a journal. Nicholas looked up at me, "When I left the hotel and returned home, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. I couldn't sleep either and got this out from a large case with my father's stuff. I found letters from your father and more journals, I read them all and this particular one caught my attention," he handed it to me, "my father knew a lot about what happened there . . . and, you were right, he knew about the ghosts too," I paged through the journal. For what was written on the pages, his father was trying to understand Allerdale Hall and everything related to it just as we were, he was trying to know the truth and when he knew what had happened, he tried to hide it from Nicholas, in order to protect him.

"He went there?" Nicholas shook his head.

"Not to my knowledge," he said. It made sense, if his father had gone to Allerdale Hall and crossed those doors, Lucille would have made sure he didn't return, "I remember, dad was always reading a strange book when I was a kid, he and my mother used to talk in low voices about it in my father's studio. They never let me read it. Dad found me paging through it one evening and he was really upset. Now that I know all this, I know he wasn't angry for what I had done, but for our wicked past." Nicholas made a pause and rubbed his hands together, "I saw him throwing the book into the flames of the fireplace the same night. He didn't want me to know about Allerdale Hall at first, but then, I guess he realised he couldn't hide it forever, so he told me about it. He said it was my great grandmother who wrote the book and that she was the girl in the book." His fingers trailed the patterns in the cushion by him as he spoke, "It was very hard to believe . . ." He said softly. "I've tried to find that book, but it's impossible, it's been a long time, I just know that the title reads-"

"Crimson Peak," I uttered and he tilted his head, then nodded.

"Yes, Crimson Peak . . ." Nicholas frowned, "how do you know that?"

"Because I've been looking for that book as well, and I've found it." His eyes widened for a moment.

"You, you found the book?" He leant over, I nodded and got up to pull the old book out from my backpack, "I can't believe you found it. . ." He trailed off as I handed it to him and saw him reading the first words. I began to think about one thing.

"Nicholas . . ." I began and realised it was too late to ask him if he had seen his great grandmother before, "There's something you need to know-" I said, but by the time, his eyes had already fixed on the blurry photo on a side on the page with a biography of Edith, he stared stunned at it, "Nicholas, I thought you knew this." He obviously didn't and I should've known it from the beginning; he would have been that stunned the very day we had met, he would've shut the door in my face or fainted just like I did when I saw him. It seemed like all colour had drained from his face when he looked up at me studying me in the most indiscreet way possible, then looking at the photo again and then at me and so on. He was speechless and I was sure he felt the same way I felt when I saw him for the first time, so similar to Sir Thomas. I would've had the same reaction if my great grandmother looked exactly like the person sitting across from me. Perhaps the differences were her hair and mine, her hair was accommodated in a beautiful knot behind her head, mine was always down, with my waves loose and free, when not, in a very messy bun and probably a pen stuck in my hair.

"How?" That's all he could utter. I shrugged.

"I don't really know," I said, shaking my head and slightly shrugging.

"You-" he blinked, "Are we related somehow?" Nicholas stuttered.

"No. Are you okay?" He blew out his cheeks and led his hand to his forehead; I saw the cushion he was holding before thrown onto the floor, I picked it up as I made my way to the couch where Nicholas was and I sat by him, "I thought you knew about this," I began, "I was shocked when I found out as well." He looked up at me and held his gaze on me, "You never googled Edith Cushing?"

"I barely knew her last name but, no, I never thought of- of doing it." He cleared his throat and got up with a loud sigh.

"Are you okay?" I asked again as he paced in the living room.

"I'm so confused right now . . . I mean, it's a lot to take in. You look like my great grandmother- no, that's impossible . . ." He said under his breath. I stood up and I saw him flinch a little, "Now I can't help but think about what you said before." He said.

"What?"

"That, this ghost you talk about looks like me. I don't understand how this can be possible." He closed his eyes.

"Mine might be just a coincidence, but you're his descendant, so . . ." It was kind of normal.

"Still, it's a lot to take in." He muttered. I walked closer and grabbed his arm.

"You sit down," I said, walking him back to the couch, "I'll get you a cup of tea." He sat and I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. With a sigh I placed my hands on the sink and felt dizzy, I realised I hadn't eaten anything since that morning, so I rushed to get biscuits at least as I waited for the water to boil, I didn't want to make a fool of myself by fainting more than once in front of Nicholas.

I prepared a cup and got the tea bag in and finally poured the water in it. When I walked into the living room, I saw a very lost in thought Nicholas. He held his head down, his fingers were buried in the golden waves of his hair. I walked towards him and held his cup of tea, waiting for him to take it. It never happened, he only sat there, staring blankly at the carpet with an uneasy expression on his face. Great, now I had two delirious men in my flat.

"Nicholas?" I asked softly. Only then, he blinked and snapped himself into reality, his eyes looked into mine as he straightened himself.

"Sorry." he apologised and took the cup in his hands. I returned to my seat next to him, munching on a biscuit and grabbing Edith's book in my hands, "Do you think a cup of tea will improve anything?" He asked out of the blue, making me look up at him, his eyes were lost in the dark liquid in the cup, "My mother used to think so." He looked up and gave me a small smile and I reciprocated, "And she didn't take a 'no' as an answer," he said, slightly shaking his head and then his eyes fell on me, "you know, you remind me of her, she was so stubborn." My eyes widened for a moment and couldn't help but chuckle.

"I bet she was a nice person." He nodded.

"She was." His smile slowly disappeared from his face.

"What happened to her?" I asked. Then realised I shouldn't have asked that question, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" Both of us kept silence. I felt my words being swallowed by the growing silence in the room.

"It was complications during, uhm, giving birth to my sister," he said, "I remember being in a hospital corridor with a nurse in the middle of the night. She was keeping an eye on me while my father was in the delivery room with mum. They said they couldn't safe her . . . we returned home the next morning, without mum and without my sister . . ." He looked away, to conceal the tears pooling his eyes. I looked at my hands and struggled to say something to him, probably to make him feel better or something, but I didn't know what to say. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned to face me, "There's a moment where you can decide either to do everything you can and bring that patient back to life or you can give up right away when the flat line shows up. I've seen doctors giving up on patients so many times and I hear those four words every ten minutes in the ER, that phrase is nothing but a fancy way to say you gave up on that patient."

"Do you think they gave up on your mother?"

"I don't think so, I know it." He said, "Now, I am the only Sharpe alive. As far as I know, my family's been a long line of only children, all boys, never girls. For what I know now, I wouldn't be surprised if this was some sort of curse and that's why sister died that day as well, my name is nothing but a curse after all. The Sharpes . . ." He trailed off and I kept silence as I listened to him, "I guess that's how things should be, I guess it's how things should continue, at least for me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I," he began, "being the last Sharpe, must not pass dow this curse to any other person. The Sharpe name has to die the day I die, so no one will carry with this burden."

"Oh . . ." I uttered, the silence began to surround us and the second it passed the more awkward it was for me to start a conversation. I had gathered the courage to speak when Nicholas looked at me out of the corner of his eye and spoke.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, changing completely the topic.

"Do what?" I asked, he shrugged and put the mug on the coffee table.

"Help a ghost? For stranger it sounds," he said, "you're not even related to him and still you're helping." I closed the book I had on my legs and frowned as I thought.

"I think, I would also want someone to help me if I were a sad and lonely ghost. I can't imagine being stuck in the same place for centuries . . . for eternity." I gazed at him. His eyes looking at the cup of tea on the coffee table as he thought about what I had just said. They rose until they met mine.

"Adeline," he shifted to face me, leaning over, "I was thinking about what you said and I want to-"

"Adeline?" Josh's voice interrupted and we both flinched and looked at him, Josh's eyes went wide and stared at Nicholas, "What the hell's going on-" I got up and walked towards him. I felt Nicholas doing the same and Josh took a step back when he saw Nicholas getting up. I grabbed Josh's arm and dragged him into the kitchen with me.

"How are you feeling?" I reached for his forehead with the back of my hand, feeling a little embarrassed for my poor nursing skills in front of a doctor, "Go to bed-"

"No, who's that?" He said, trying to go back to the living room, I grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Just a guy I met and-" I had no choice but tell him, "Josh, there's something I didn't tell you. I, well, I met him in Spain the other day-"

"Spain? What are you talking about?"

"I went to Spain a couple of days ago."

"You what?" He asked with eyes as big as saucers, "What for and why does he look like the Baronet?" He asked softly, "Everyone seems to have a look alike from the past, I'm starting to think that some day I'll travel to, what, Italy? And I will see a picture of a ramdom guy from the nineteenth century that looks exactly like me! What does he want anyway?"

"Can you speak lower?" I said in a whisper.

"What does he want?" Josh said again.

"He came to tell me about Allerdale Hall, I went to Spain because I found letters in my dad's stuff and I wanted to return the title deeds of the place to the legitimate owner, but he's passed away, his son -the guy in the living room- is trying to find out more about his family past." I said.

"Why didn't you tell me you had left for Spain?"

"Because you wouldn't have let me go of I had told you this ghost thing was involved in it, obviously. How are you feeling?" I asked again and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm feeling better." He growled.

"Good, now, stop looking at me like that. I'll introduce you, he didn't know you were here." I said and he dragged himself into the living room, Nicholas had sat again and he got on his feet when he saw us walking towards him, "Nicholas, this is my friend Josh and we share the flat." I said and saw Nicholas holding his hand out for a handshake and I nudged Josh to take it.

"Hello, I'm Nicholas," he introduced himself to Josh, who shook hands with him, still keeping a wary eye on Nicholas.

"Josh, a pleasure." Josh replied in a flat voice. Then an awkward silence.

"Okay . . . Josh, you should go back to sleep . . . He's not been feeling his best lately." I said.

"Yeah, uhm . . . It was a pleasure, Nicholas." He said and Nicholas nodded. I took a deep breath, whilst watching Josh walking away.

"Sorry, he gets all bitter when he's not feeling good."

"Is he okay? I mean, I could check on him." He said and I sat down.

"Believe me, it's better to leave him alone for a while."

"Does he know about . . . ?"

"Allerdale Hall + ghosts? Yes, he does. Actually, we've been there today and just arrived," I said as Nicholas sat down, still looking at Josh and I felt like I had to explain, "this was his first time in Allerdale Hall and it wasn't a very good experience. He saw the ghosts."

"Oh, that explains why he looked at me like that," he said, letting out a soft chuckle under his breath.

"So, where were we?" I asked, "What is it you wanted to tell me?" Nicholas rested his elbows on his knees and joined his hands together.

"Uhm . . . I haven't forgotten what you said," I frowned, "I want to go to Allerdale Hall." My eyes widened and I thought my jaw jad touched the floor when he said that, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What? Are you out of your mind? I've told you it's dangerous-"

"You and your friend have been there before."

"Yeah and both of us almost got killed by a ghost the first time. What if you-"

"Die?" He said bluntly, "I don't really care, I've got no one." God, he had that same doleful look Sir Thomas had given me the other day.

"Don't say that, don't go." I scratched the back of my neck and then buried my face in my hands, slightly rubbing my eyes, "I shouldn't have said anything . . ." I mumbled under my breath.

"No," he said, "no, I'm not going because you told me the Baronet wants to meet me, this is something I should've done a long time ago."

"I'm going with you, that's the only way-"

"No." The word echoed in my head, "I have to do this alone." I stared at him; with me he had a considerable chance to get out of that house in one piece, without me, I was sure he had no chance at all. Suddenly my eyes were brimming with tears, I don't really know if it was for all that had happened that week or because Nicholas was so prone to die if he crossed those old doors.

"Nicholas, please don't." I said softly. "Think wisely, this is not a game."

"I know it is not a game." His hand reached for my face and wiped the tear that rolled down my face, "Why do you cry?" I shrugged and felt like a child. So scared of what could happen next, so scared of live haunted by Lucille, of being alone, of being the responsible of his possible death. Of course I would feel guilty if Lucille killed him, I had awakened his interest to know more about that wicked place; I regretted everything I had said and done, mainly the fact of going to his house and disturb the normal life he had. By the way he had spoken, it seemed like there was no way to stop him, he was so determined to go, but it worth a shot to convince otherwise. I didn't care if I had to be childish and cry him a river or cling to his leg to stop him.

"Don't go alone. What if you die?" I uttered between quiet whimpers, "Just, think about it for a day and-"

"Okay." I looked stunned at him, "I'll think about it and if by the end of the day I've decided to go anyway, you'll come with me. I'll need someone to show me the way after all." He gave me a small smile, trying to cheer me up, but that wasn't going to happen, he soon realised about it, "Come here," his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug and making me feel safe -a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. "Everything will be fine." He said, soothingly and I gave in, wrapping my arms around him. I never thought that a hug from a stranger could feel so tender, so protective, so like, home.

───────

AUTHOR'S NOTE :

hello, it's me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I hope I made it up to you with 3,965 words. Massive apologies for the huge hiatus, exams and life happened. Thank you so much for reading, voting and commenting!