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northern-typist · 9 months

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father of the bride ~ bbc ghosts ~ part one (of two)

A/N ~ Alright folks, this is just a quick two-parter that I came up with on a long car journey. I’ve taken some liberties with the ‘Rachel Fawcett’ character and melded her into my own version.

button house, may

Rachel Fawcett was many things - a liberal, environmentally cautious, an acute over thinker and a whiz at pub quizzes.

One thing she was not, however, was a coward. No. Fawcett’s were not cowards, they couldn’t be (and wouldn’t,) the notion weaved into their DNA at conception.

But as she indicated up the long, winding drive, her stomach started to swallow her whole. Rain lashing down onto the windscreen. Wind blowing the car about. Bad omen? Maybe so. Button House was the place her father had passed away. She’d been warned against going by almost everyone she spoke to about the matter. Her friends, her mother - especially her mother. She could hear her condemnations now-

"Why in Christ would you want to host your wedding there?"

But Rachel had been adamant, she wanted her wedding day to be special and this was the place it was going to be (luckily her fiancé agreed and that was that.)

Parking the car by the cracked fountain, she gathered her belongings and exited. Instantly, the door swung open, a beaming and slightly nervous Alison Cooper greeted her. Her eyes briefly darting behind her, but straight back to Rachel.

“Hi.” Rachel greeted quietly, “sorry that I’m late, I couldn’t quite find the place and then-“ she motioned to the house, “you know.” Daniel always told her she was incredibly brave, but she doubted that right then.

Alison just shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. Glad you still were able to make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” she raced to the front door and entered, Alison making way, “finding a place to host a wedding is difficult enough these days, what with the cost of everything, so we’re incredibly grateful.”

“Is he coming?”

It took Rachel a moment, taking off her damp coat and frowning, but then- “Oh, yes, Dan! He’s travelling down from Edinburgh, got some work thing. He’ll be here though; he's dying to check out the house before the big day.”

“Great.” Alison grinned, taking Rachel’s coat and hanging it up. “Make yourself at home, I’ll get the kettle on and find Mike, he should be around here somewhere.”

Leaving Rachel alone, Alison headed off towards the kitchen, closing the door behind her and bracing herself for the oncoming storm, and OH boy, was that storm turning into a hurricane…

Alison stirred the teabag and inhaled, the voices around her all drowning into one. Finally, the spoon was placed down, and she turned, addressing her posse of ghosts.

“Alright, one question at a time please.”

Thomas went first. “Who is that beauty? You must introduce us, Alison.”

“Absolutely not, next”

Then it was Kitty. “She’s very familiar, has she been to one of your parties, or maybe a guest.”

“Hopefully she's not one of your God-awful friends. Highly unacceptable people.” Fanny interjected brashly, she had a point.

Alison gritted her teeth, ignoring the slight on her friends and turned towards the remaining three, “Anything from you?”

“Are we allowed to attend the party?” Pat enquired, excited about the prospect of more lovely music and people in the house.

“Of course, Pat, of course.”

Robin grunted happily - that had also been his question, so that left The Captain. He adjusted his swagger stick and stood straighter. “Anything to report about this one? Anything of interest?”

Alison picked up the cups and nodded firmly. “She’s here to host her wedding, that’s all. But wanted to see the place first. She’s staying for a night or two, just whilst her fiancé joins her. He hasn't seen the house yet. Oh- actually, there’s actually something I wanted to speak to Julian about,” she peered around the excited group but couldn’t see the suspect, “where’s Julian?”

Rachel felt oddly at home here… and she couldn’t place why. Every furnishing felt like a memory that she’d secretly repressed. Staring at the crackling fire, Rachel picked at her sleeve, unable to fully relax into the plush settee. Regardless of the warmth of the room, a shiver ran down her spine. A brief glance around the room.

Nothing…

Except for the pant-less ghost wavering a few feet behind the blonde newcomer, not that Rachel could see him. Julian didn’t need an introduction, he knew exactly who this was. His blue eyes stared down. Unable to look away. In all his time with the dead, he’d wondered what she would look like now. Sure, Alison had shown him those pages on the computer, the occasional mention on the Radio. He even remembers hearing a brief mention of her on the 6 o’clock News - she had switched parties during a rather difficult voting period, a Red now, not a Green.

This was his daughter, his Rachel.

“There you are!”

Both father and daughter turned to face the door, Alison standing with a bright smile and two cups of tea. Julian met Alison’s eye curiously as she entered, a silent question - ‘when was you going to tell me?’ Alison tried to brush him off with a smile and seated herself on Rachel’s right.

“Here you go.” Alison said softly, handing Rachel the brew. She then motioned for Julian to join them. It was subtle, but he took the invitation gladly, perching on the coffee table.

“Cheers Alison.” Rachel grinned.

Alison and Rachel spent a moment sipping on their beverages, which gave Alison the opportunity to observe the father-daughter duo. There wasn’t much of a difference. The same bold blue eyes, sandy-blonde hair - with a middle parting, Fawcett’s all had them, she remembered Julian once telling her.

“So, how do you like the house?” Alison queried, hopeful.

Rachel took another long sip and smiled softly. “It’s a beautiful house, you and Mike should be very proud of yourselves. I can’t wait for Dan to see it,” another sip, “but lord knows how long that’ll take, that storm doesn’t look like it’s going to stop.”

“Dan? Who’s Dan?”

“We’re trying with it,” Alison said. “We didn’t think we’d be hosting anymore weddings, to be honest—“

“What’s this about a wedding-“

“I’m bloody glad that you still are.” Rachel breathed, “my mother warned against coming here, said that I would bring shame upon the family, upon my party.” Julian held his breath, his wife was correct, as she always had been, yet Rachel persisted, “but I don’t care about all of that, I know you probably know about my father and how he… Well, the circumstances of his death.”

Alison kept one eye on Julian and on Rachel, then nodded. “I’ve been told. Sorry, by the way, I know that was probably hard for you to learn.”

Instead of sadness there was only hints of humour from Rachel. “Don’t be sorry, us Fawcett’s are a different breed, he may be gone and may have been a colossal idiot-“

“But he was your father.”

“He was my dad.”

And in that moment, the two girls knew they had an unspoken With that, the pair continued to drink their tea, falling into small talk about their lives. Julian opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak. His throat tight, eyes slightly watering. Instead he exited the room, slowly, slightly forlorn. His thoughts still in the warmth of the room as he meandered through the corridors in search of his ghostly friends.

The storm had lessened by eight but there was still no sign of Dan, just a text to say that his train would be delayed, no surprises there. Mike ordered a round of Pizza’s, enjoyed by the humans and envied by the ghosts, then the couple sent a tired Rachel to nap, stating that: “they’d wait for Dan.”

Julian hadn’t said much during dinner, the other ghosts had taken note, but waited until Mike had sauntered upstairs to watch the latest episode of Big Brother (it wasn’t really Alison’s thing.) The remaining residents of Button House sat and stood, waiting for Julian to begin talking.

He sensed the group’s questions, so decided to address them. “She’s my daughter.”

“That’s Rachel?” Pat cried with wide eyes.

“That’s Rachel, my Rachel. It appears that she’s having her wedding here.”

Fanny frowned, crossing her arms. “And she’s aware that you died here, like that.” She motioned to his bottom half. Julian nodded silently causing her to just shake her head.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Thomas chimed in from the settee, “Your daughter must not hold a grudge, she must have some semblance of respect for you, but I’m not sure why.”

“Amen.” Fanny supplied.

Alison glanced around the room, stopping at Julian, tentative. “How do you feel about all of this?”

“It’s… Hard. She’s not a pixel on a screen anymore, she’s here.” Julian adjusted a cuff link and sniffled, he wouldn’t cry in front of them. “But Margot seems to have done well, all things considered.”

The Captain made to add to the conversation when a rapturous knock echoed on the front door downstairs. The group shot up, running straight to the windows. They couldn’t see who was there, the rain now pelting the glass harder. Alison rose from her spot by the chess board and raced down, ghosts in hot pursuit, to the front door. The knocking continued. Unlocking it, she swung the door open and stared out at the stranger.

“It’s Dan, right?” Alison gasped.

The stranger turned and lowered the hood of their coat, nodding and bundling inside quickly, glad to be out of the storm.

Dan shook out the rain from his greying hair and smiled at Alison, who was trying to switch on the nearest lamp, “Hi, yes, I’m Dan.”

He stretched out a polite hand and Alison finally got a chance to see his face, but could only gasp at him - the gasp reverberating amongst the ghosts also. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

The Captain grasped his swagger-stick, standing frozen alongside Julian, and felt his heart plummet into his stomach, if such a thing could happen to a dead man.

Dan was the spitting image of The Captain, just a few years younger and no moustache.

Cutting through the small silence was light footsteps on the stairs, quickly descending to the front door. Rachel reached the bottom, ghosts jumping out of her way, as she raced into Dan’s slightly damp arms. As the pair embraced - the group stared and stared.

“Good Lord.” The Captain muttered.

Well, this was certainly a new development.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #bbc ghosts imagine #rachel fawcett #julian fawcett #the captain #don’t mind me #back on my bullshit

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