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The one thing that surprised Thomas the most when he became a ghost was that he can still feel pain. It’s different from when he was alive. His wound, for example, doesn’t hurt most of the time, but some days he feels like he’s dying all over again. He’s not sure how the others have it, he never noticed any of them mentioning any pain. For Humphrey’s sake he hopes he’s the only one who has that particular problem.
He soon also found out that emotional pain makes it worse. Which by itself would’ve been bearable if he didn’t get those dreadful bouts of melancholy that, even in life, left him bed bound for days, not eating unless forced to (thank god he doesn’t have to do that now), not sleeping or writing, feeing utterly miserable.
Which is what’s happening right now. He’s curled in on himself, lying on his bed. He’s tried to get up three times already and he doesn’t really think he wants to try again. It hurts and he doesn’t have the energy for that anyway.
He feels so cold. It’s only the end of September but the weather is already absolutely horrid, which really isn’t helping the pain. Thomas thinks he might actually be the only ghost who can feel the cold. Thankfully now that Alison and Mike live here, there’s usually a fire going on colder days. Unfortunately, the fireplace isn’t exactly close to his bedroom, which means that on days like these he just has to suffer through it. That leaves him shivering, crying and cursing himself for not being able to do such a simple thing as getting up.
He’s startled out of his misery by a knock on the door. He holds his breath, trying not to make a sound, in hopes of whoever it is (Alison, his mind unhelpfully supplies) just leaving him alone.
“Thomas? It’s gone midday and we haven’t seen you yet. Usually you’re one of the first ones up. Are you okay?”
Thomas groans. In so many years of his pitiful existence as a ghost, nobody ever came to check on him when he was like this. Well, Robin would sometimes stay with him if he happened to come across him, but he never approached Thomas to see how he was doing. Of course blessed, sweet Alison would do this. But oh how he wishes she would never see him like this.
He makes a vague noise to let her know he is still here, slightly hoping she might leave him alone. She doesn’t.
“Seriously Thomas, are you alright? You’re kinda scaring me here. Kitty said you just ‘get like this sometimes’ and Julian called you a dramatic bitch but it seemed uncharacteristic. So I wanted to check in on you.”
Before Thomas has the chance to answer, Alison is opening the door and he can only cover his face in shame.
She stares at him for a bit, watching how one of his hands is pressed to his mouth and the other is hovering over his wound, as if he’s not sure whether putting pressure on it would help ease the pain he’s clearly in. Alison always thought Thomas’s over-dramatic personality was what could be blamed for the pained expressions, but it seems it actually still hurts. He’s also shaking and- is he cold? She has to do something.
“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll just get Pat.” Thomas isn’t sure what she’d be getting Patrick for, and in his current state he wouldn’t be surprised if it would be just to mock him. Still, he stays in place, although that’s mainly because he literally can’t get up. The pain is getting dull right now, which he suspects won’t last long, especially if he tries to get up.
Alison comes back with Pat and Robin. Thomas hates being seen like this. But he also longs for comfort, and as much as he hates admitting it, Pat’s never said no to him when he found the courage to ask for it. And Robin has in the past sat with Thomas through the worst days of his death, from the day he died, to the day Isabelle died, or even when he just confessed he felt bad for no apparent reason. He never told either of them about the pain or the neverending cold he felt.
While he ponders whether he should tell them about it or just keep it secret, he doesn’t notice them getting closer, nor does he hear Pat talking until he feels someone pulling him up by his arms. He yelps and pushes his palm against the wound. It doesn’t help and before he can stop himself, there’s tears streaming down his face
“Tom? You alright there mate?” No he isn’t. Pat knows he isn’t. Robin knows he isn’t. “Hurts” he whimpers. Before he can register what’s going on, Pat is picking him up with a mumbled apology and he blacks out for a second before waking up in an armchair close to the fireplace. The warmth is seeping into his core and it makes the pain feel a bit more bearable.
He looks around, noticing it’s still only Alison, Pat and Robin with him in the room. His vision is blurry, which must mean he’s still crying and he hates it. He hates being vulnerable around people, that’s why he’s created a persona that allows him to cover any actual issues with acting dramatic. There’s no hiding it now though.
“No really, Thomas, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.” Alison breaks the silence at last. He wants to laugh. Everything’s wrong, HE is wrong. Before he can say something though, Robin is answering: “You not here long. He just get sad sometimes. Me think it hurt him.”
And okay, that might be accurate but also Robin put it so bluntly that Thomas feels like it’s a personal attack. He splutters, trying to defend himself but then he falls quiet. There’s nothing he can do to make it sound better. He’s just like this, always has been. Alison seems lost in thought anyway, she’s probably not listening. Then she looks at him again.
“Wait, Thomas! I didn’t- you have depression? God, how could I not notice?” Thomas isn’t sure if that’s what it is, he supposes people might call it that now.
“Maybe? They called it melancholy when I was alive. It used to happen more often. But now it… hurts.” He thought maybe saying it quickly would help. It did not. What does help, is Robin’s hand wrapped around his shoulders as he says it, and Pat softly running his hand through Thomas’s hair. He wishes he’d seek physical touch more often. It’s something that always helped ground him in reality when nothing felt real.
“Okay and you… can feel pain? And cold? That’s awful.” Alison says and Thomas coughs out a laugh. It is awful but there’s really nothing he can do about it. Alison can’t do anything about it either. She sighs. “But you’ll tell someone if you need anything, like if you think it’s getting bad again, right?” Thomas nods. They both know he probably won’t. Old habits die hard, especially when you’re a ghost.
Thomas gasps suddenly, his face twisting in pain. Robin catches his hands before he can move them towards the wound.
“That no help.”
“Yeah Tom, I’m afraid you’d just make it worse. D’you want Alison to turn on the TV as a distraction?” Pat says, still running his hand soothingly through Thomas’s hair. Thomas nods, distractions would be nice.
It’s not long after that when Thomas falls asleep, now surrounded by all the other ghosts on the couch. Alison spoke to them about it, which at first sent him to a panic but after calming down he allowed them all to come in. He’s not okay, exactly, but for the first time in almost two hundred years, he’s not dealing with this alone. He has his family and that’s all that matters.