hello yes i still write aogg fic

extremely belated thank yous to all the anons who left reviews between 2013 and now, your comments are really kind :)

i wrote this with the prompt "ghosts" in mind, but it kind of turned into...idk what this is! more walter/una shenanigans bc that's all i do.

ten

draw you nearer

The clock has ticked into the morning, and Walter is still awake.

Ingleside is asleep; Jem's breathing deep and steady in his unconsciousness. He and Walter have always shared this small east room, beds close enough that, in their adolescent gangliness, they can reach across to each other with ease. "What ever happened to my babies?" Mother is wont to sigh when she thinks they cannot hear.

Walter is fourteen years old, studying for the Queen's examinations, too old now to be afraid of shadows and the dark. He tries not to be, as best he can - Jem has grown up, doesn't seem to fear anything, and Walter knows that Jem knows best; he tries so hard to follow.

But he still thinks of these things more often than Jem and Dad would like.

He shouldn't have any kind of fright - certainly not of being helpless and alone. Ingleside is always a house of many inhabitants, and tonight the Meredith girls are asleep in Nan and Di's room as well, so the idea that he is the only one awake, thoughts creeping, is laughable. Should be laughable.

But…well, it is not.

He thinks maybe he should have some tea - tea and one of Susan's buns left covered in the pantry. Mother sighs over that, too, how he and Jem are eating everything in the house. (Di complains about that as well, then Nan says she'll get fat, and then there's another fight that Walter is in the middle of - but that's not the point.)

He swings his legs out of bed quietly, careful not to hit the floor too hard. He is growing fast - too fast - the length of his limbs surprises him, at times; surprises him that he should be as tall as Mother now and taller soon. His shadow is long and thin against the wall, bending across the floor and the ceiling. It stretches out in front of him as he goes down the stairs, as though he's merely following where it wills.

The moon is bright, casting light over the familiar shapes of the sofa, the tables and the cabinet where Gog and Magog sit. Diana the huntress gleams in the window, and everything is so familiar that for a moment he forgets his fear.

Then he hears a noise in the kitchen.

Walter's heart thuds to a stop, his imagination leaping to action and sprinting ahead of his common sense. It might be an intruder - a thief - a murderer - worse, a monster. (What any of these creatures would be doing in the kitchen, his imagination doesn't bother to figure.)

He creeps a bit closer, wishing Jem were with him, or even Di. He would very much like their frankness right now, for he has never had enough for his own good.

There's something in the kitchen, something pale white and wispy. His heart leaps into his throat.

Then the creature turns around at the sound of his steps, and he sees that it is not something to fear at all. Although, in his defense, Una Meredith looks a bit like a ghost in her ragged nightgown. She is frail-limbed and white all over, save for the dark of her hair and brows. She clasps a cup between her hands.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says. "I was just…" She motions a little vaguely towards the stove, where Walter can see the silhouette of their dented kettle.

"You didn't," he assures her, trying to make her believe as much as himself. He certainly doesn't want to admit that the sight of her nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Is there any more water?"

Una follows his question to its logical conclusion and pours a cup for him. They steep their leaves together in silence. Walter darts a glance at her - he can just see her face, half in shadow. She is staring down at her tea like it is the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Couldn't you sleep?" he asks finally, when the silence begins to feel awkward.

Una's face colors. In the moonlight it turns her cheeks a sort of mottled blue. "Nan and Faith were telling ghost stories," she says. "And then Di thought it would be funny grab us - so - when we were trying to sleep." She pinches her waist to demonstrate.

Walter cannot help but smile - kindly. "Here," he says fondly, "I'll tell you a story. A nicer one."

Una smiles, too - one of her soft, rare smiles. Something in Walter is unexpectedly pleased to see that he can draw it from her. They huddle at the table, two buns between them, Una leaning in a little to hear him. Between sips of tea, he whispers a tale of kinder ghosts, doing a little bit of good on earth while they wait for the soul who belongs with them, so they can finally pass on.

It's not the most original story - he is borrowing rather liberally from one of Mother's poems, and from a lurid book of Nan's (which she is most certainly not supposed to be reading) - but Una seems transfixed nevertheless, and when he concludes with the ghost leaving the earth at last, she gives a happy little sigh.

"That was very nice," she says softly. Walter bristles a little at the simplicity of the praise, but then he meets her eyes and she is looking at him so sincerely, gaze fixed on his, that it suddenly means more than most compliments he's received. He wants to tell her so, but for once, he can't find the words.

It should be easier to talk to her, he thinks. He looks down to where their hands are both so pale on the table together. Should be easy, the way talking to Nan and Di and Faith is easy. She should be like a sister to him, Una, but somehow she is not. If he is being honest, Walter must admit that he does not always know what to make of her. There is something in her that is distant - Walter wonders now, in the dark, if one day they might be closer. It feels almost like it, in this moment - in the quiet, in the night, like they are the only two people left in the world. All of his anxious waking thoughts are gone, muted into something steady and even.

"I'll go," she says, standing. They walk to the stairs together, and Walter lets her go up first. It feels a little wrong, somehow - like he should do something to bid her goodbye. He lifts his hand, then lets it drop to his side. He doesn't know what he was planning to do.

"Thank you for the story," Una murmurs. She hesitates at the bottom step, and for a moment she physically sways as though she might turn back. Then she smiles shyly at him, the second time tonight. "Good-night."

"Good-night," he repeats, watching her turn the bend in the staircase, hears her footsteps tread lightly to Nan and Di's room.

In the morning, Di notices two buns are missing right away, and Nan says she'll be as roly-poly as Rilla if she was planning to eat them both. The Meredith girls have to leave early in the wake of another explosive fight between the twins, Faith laughing at their drama easily, Una solemn as always. But when she passes him, her mouth curls in that rare, almost secret way.

Nobody else notices, but Walter smiles back.