Chapter Text
A light mist hung over the graveyard that morning; it wasn’t heavy enough to truly obscure vision, but the particles in the air caught the early-morning sunlight and bathed the stones in an uncharacteristic prismatic glow. Edwin and Charles knew where they were going, and were unhindered by the damp grass—they led the way, gloved hand in gloved hand. Hob grinned at their backs. Crystal rolled her eyes, but Hob knew she didn’t mean it.
“Here we are,” Charles called, from about fifteen yards ahead. Hob lengthened his stride to catch up.
As promised, the two graves were side by side. The older one was in good condition, but it had clearly been there long enough to become a part of the scenery. The newer wasn’t yet close-held by the foliage, although with nothing to bury there was no disturbance to the grass before it.
Hob leaned in to look at Charles’ grave, first. It read:
Charles Rowland
1973 – 1989
Beloved son
That was all. Hob felt an odd hollowness in his stomach, looking at the pair of graves. He knew—he knew —that Edwin and Charles were dead. They were quite vocal about it, especially Edwin; it was in the name on the business cards that Charles had cheerfully handed him a handful of, as though Hob knew any other ghosts that he might have wanted to refer to the agency.
Still, there was something different about seeing the physical bookend of the end of a life. Charles was actually, physically beneath the earth here; Edwin may as well have been.
Beloved son. Hob had buried one of those.
With an effort, he turned towards the grave that the others were examining—the grave they had come to see.
He had expected Edwin’s grave to match Charles’. It did, mostly. In size and color, it was comparable; the stone looked a little finer, but both were a dappled grey and suited each other well. The epitaph was where it diverged:
Edwin Payne
1900 – 1916
Matthew 5:7
“What’s that, then?” Charles leaned over.
“A verse from the Bible,” Edwin said. “I did tell him I was Catholic.”
“I know that, mate,” Charles said, swinging their connected hands. “What does it mean?”
“Do you know?” Crystal asked.
“Of course I know,” Edwin said, as though offended she’d questioned it—which Hob suspected had been Crystal’s goal. “Beati misericordes qui ipsi misericordiam consequentur,” Edwin said, rattling off the Latin with an ease that Hob didn’t hear much anymore.
Crystal rolled her eyes. “English?”
Hob glanced at Edwin, who didn’t respond. He had a small, close-mouthed smile, but was looking at the gravestone.
He was, Hob realized with a flicker of amusement, being uncharacteristically shy about it.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy,” Hob provided.
“Huh,” Crystal said.
“That’s brills, isn’t it?” Charles turned his smile on Edwin. “Suits you.”
Edwin’s smile stayed small, but his eyes were bright when he looked at Charles. “It’s a nice thought,” he said. He brushed his thumb over the engraving.
“I sort of thought they’d say the same thing,” Crystal said.
“Nah, this is better,” Charles said.
“I am not exactly anyone’s beloved son ,” Edwin said, chin lifted.
“I don’t know anything from the Bible’s gonna suit me,” Charles said.
Edwin looked at him, grip tightening on his hand. “I can think of a few.”
“Yeah?” Charles said. “What would you put on my grave, then?”
Edwin thought about it for a moment. “John 15:13.”
“What’s that, then?” Charles asked.
“If you read, you would know,” Edwin said. He straightened. “Let’s leave, shall we, before the living start showing up. Present company excluded.”
“Hold on,” Charles protested, as Edwin withdrew his hand and started walking back towards the gate. “You can’t not tell me!”
“You could look it up,” Edwin said.
“Where would I find a Bible?”
“We have several , Charles!”
Their voices faded as they chased each other back across the cemetery.
Crystal was typing away into her phone. “They both forget Google exists like, literally always,” she said.
Hob laughed. “What’ve you got?”
“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” Crystal read.
Hob felt the smile spread across his face. “That sounds about right.”
“Yeah,” Crystal said. “If he gets around to looking it up, he’s either going to cry or be insufferable . Maybe both.”
“They seem to be happy,” Hob noted.
“Yeah,” Crystal said. “It’s sickening.” She glanced at him. “I’m happy for them, though.”
“And how are you doing?” Hob asked.
“You know,” she said. “Pretty good, I think.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Good,” Hob said, and the two living people followed the two dead ones out of the graveyard and back to the rest of the world.