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“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
That sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all
And sweetest in the Gale is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest Sea
Yet, never, in Extremity
It asked a crumb of me.
– “Hope” is the Thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
Charles watched the snowflakes dance in the reflection of the mall window. Out of habit he reached out to catch one, expecting it to dissolve on his skin only to watch it float through his hand. Charles closed his fist and turned back towards the window. Christmas was quickly approaching and Charles was still desperately trying to find an appropriate gift for Edwin. He had spent all morning popping in and out of the shops, quite literally now that he was starting to really get the hang of the so-called ghost rules, but nothing had quite caught his eye.
“What do I get for someone who save, well not my life, but my death?” Charles asked the mannequins in the window. His lack of reflection, after almost a year, still unsettled him. “A candle from the Christmas market is fun, innit?” The mannequins stared facelessly back; the cold lines of their elegant poses radiated judgment. “Right…”
Despite starting a detective agency together, Charles still felt that Edwin held him cautiously at arm’s length, as if waiting to get dragged back to hell at any moment. Charles didn’t mind, they got on famously, and were a brilliant team when solving mysteries, but it did make gift giving rather difficult. Charles thought back to gifts that he had gotten for his parents over the years. Certainly, there was something that Edwin would enjoy. Maybe a tie of some sort? Edwin was so particular about his appearance, one of the many mannerisms picked up from a strict Edwardian upbringing, favoring neutral tones of browns and greys. Maybe some color would be a nice change of pace. That and Charles had gotten ties loads of times for his father and was otherwise at a loss. Nodding at the mannequins for their sound guidance in this endeavor, Charles set off to find a tailor’s.
Thirty minutes later Charles found himself in front of a respectable brick shop nestled among the sprawling London gray concrete. The sign, prominently exhibiting a pair of shears, coupled with the window display of an elegant blue suit seemed promising. A look inside revealed racks of silk suits, elegantly crafted waist coats, and rows upon rows of every color of tie known to the rainbow.
Charles spent what felt like an age sorting through the seemingly endless display of options before he was startled out of his thoughts by a shout ringing out from the back.
“What’s this?! Payne’s Grey? I specifically requested Cadet Gray! I cannot believe the incompetence of this establishment,” an older gentleman shouted, waving about a blue gray bow tie clutched tightly in his hand. “This simply will not do! Where is the tailor!”
Payne’s gray? Charles craned his neck around the corner of the tie rack to get a better look. In an increasing bout of rage, the man threw the bow tie, turning his attention from the offending article of clothing towards the tailor who had arrived with several bolts of fabric clutched in her arms. Charles took several cautious steps forward. The fabric caught the light as it sailed through the air towards him and Charles realized that the bow tie was not the slate gray of wet pavement as he had first thought, but was in fact somewhere between the gray of the London sky before the rain and the blue of the ocean after the dawn.
Forgotten by the brewing chaos in the store, Charles scooped up the abandoned bow tie, tucked several pound notes under the corner of the register, and slipped out of the store.
“Tradition dictates that we exchange gifts with one another,” Edwin said as he pulled open the desk drawer to reveal a package crisply wrapped in cherry red paper and a satin gold bow. “As such, I have acquired this for you. Merry Christmas Charles.” Edwin thrust the box towards Charles.
“Cheers mate!” Charles smiled before ripping off the packaging. Inside the box was a pair of black leather gloves carefully wrapped in white tissue paper. If Charles hadn’t known better, he would have said that they were chosen because they perfectly matched Edwin’s own gloves, minus the edgy cut out along the top of the hand. Charles pulled the gloves out from the box and slipped them onto his hands, one after the other, flexing his fingers to settle them into place.
“Now I understand that ghosts cannot feel the cold, but I thought that, well I thought that a pair of gloves might offer you some comfort.” Edwin supplied. “And any good detective needs a pair of gloves so as to not muck up the evidence, and –“ Charles took in Edwin’s nervous rambling before he broke into a wide smile. Of course, the boy who met him in the cold, who brought him a lantern when he was alone and dying, would give thoughtful gifts.
“That’s…,” the words caught in Charles throat as he fumbled for a way to express how much the gloves meant to him.
“That’s brills mate,” Charles breathed, surging forward to envelope Edwin in a hug. For a moment, Charles could feel Edwin stiffen in his grip, and then, just like that, Edwin tucked his head against Charles’ shoulder and melted into their embrace. For the first time since Charles had died, he could swear that he felt something. Something so similar to warmth that it would take him thirty years to realize otherwise.
“Now then, I have something for you as well.” Charles reached into his coat to pull out his own box wrapped more haphazardly in blue paper. Edwin took the box from Charles and carefully tugged the paper off to reveal the bow tie.
“Now I know you don’t like change, but the color is called Payne’s Grey and I just figured that it was the right thing for you to have.” Edwin held the bow tie in his hand for a quiet minute, working the fabric between his fingers.
“Charles. I do not know what to say. This is…what I mean to say is thank you. I shall wear it at once.” Charles beamed as Edwin removed his older grey bow tie and replaced it with the one from the box. The undertones of blue perfectly complemented the soft pin stripes of Edwin’s waist coat, setting off the blue in Edwin’s eyes. Charles’ fingers twitched with the urge to straighten Edwin’s collar, if only to better see the color of the new bow tie, but he refrained.
“Merry Christmas Edwin,” Charles smiled as he traced the seam of his new gloves.
Thirty-Four Years and a Thousand Shared Adventures Later
Charles returned to the office to find it filled with the warm light of Christmas lights strewn about and the comforting din of decorating. Niko, Crystal, and the Night Nurse gathered around the Christmas tree hanging shining red and golden ornaments. Charles pretended not to notice the way Crystal would giggle and blush every time she and Niko brushed against one another just as Crystal pretended not to notice how Charles had been fretting about Edwin’s Christmas present for months now.
“The tree is looking aces!”
“No thanks to you,” Crystal rolled her eyes, reaching for a cursed gingerbread man ornament, nestling it among the tree’s already full boughs.
“Charles, did you bring the holly?” Edwin called out from the closet.
“Right here,” Charles made his way to the closet and leaned against the door jam to find Edwin sorting through the pile of board games. “What’s this now?”
“I cannot understand where Crystal has put the last of the string lights. Surely, they must be here somewhere. This is what happens when you get involved with the living! Things get messy!” Edwin gestured wildly at the back of the closet. Charles threw his head back in laughter.
“Sure mate,” Charles wheezed, taking in Edwin’s mussed hair and untied bow tie.
A few weeks ago, Niko had found a book on Edwardian etiquette. Though Charles and Crystal had used most of the archaic pearls of wisdom to tease Edwin mercilessly – Not thanking the servants? Come on Edwin! – Charles had come across one or two particularly interesting bits related to courtship that never failed to make Edwin blush. Favorite among the deluge of rules was that that act of adjusting one another’s clothes was one of such intimacy that it was reserved for children and spouses. Naturally Charles took every opportunity that he could to straighten Edwin’s collar, his blush looked so lovely on his cheeks, or his gloves, though usually this was merely an excuse to hold Edwin’s hands, or, on very special occasions, the bow tie that Charles had given Edwin so many Christmases ago.
Edwin stood up, blushing under the intensity of Charles’ gaze.
“Charles, if you are simply going to watch then I suggest that you go find Jenny to see if she requires any assistance,” Edwin huffed.
“Nah mate, I think I’m right where I’m needed.” Charles reached out and gently began to straighten Edwin’s bow tie. Charles looked up into Edwin’s eyes to see that they had begun to go glassy as he brought his hand up from Edwin’s bow tie to trace his thumb along Edwin’s jaw.
“Don’t you?” Charles said as he leaned in to capture Edwin’s lips with his own. The small box that he had spent months agonizing over, carefully tucked in his jacket pocket, could wait a little bit longer. After all, they had forever to figure it out.