Fandom: Hamlet
Title: To The Unsatisfied
Notes: Horatio, when the story is all told and written up, has one last thing to do.
Content notes/Warnings: Ghosts, suicide, discussions of religious beliefs.
Word count: ~350


My hand shakes as I put the finishing line under my manuscript. I take a step back from the desk to look at it. I've been burning the midnight oil for the past week to finish this story, shape it into its right and proper form. To do it justice and leave nothing important out; to be impartial when I am so bound up in it, was a thing of near impossibility, and it is not for me to judge whether I have succeeded at it.

I have no choice but to leave Hamlet's actions, and my own, for those who come after us, to judge and make sense of.

I bind up the pages, the needle piercing leather and reams of paper that I paid good money for. There's nothing to spend it one where I'm going.

My arms ache when I am finished. I glance at the clock on my wall - just past the stroke of midnight. The rest of the castle is sleeping.

Two flasks glint on my desk in the firelight. One is nearly empty, just traces of black ink clinging to the inside of the glass. The other is smaller and brighter. It has been calling to me over the words on my pages, a silent promise I made to myself for once I fulfill my own, ripped from my heart by a dying man's lips and binding me to this desk.

I leave the book on my desk for Fortinbras to find in the morning and close my fist tightly around the flask and walk outside into the moonlight. The air still has a bite in it.

His coffin is in the crypt downstairs and while that would be poetic, it is unnecessary. I will be crossing over; I will find him no matter where our bodies are buried.

"I did as told, my lord."

There is a whisper in the trees like wind, but the air around me is still.

"I know."

"I pray you now release me."

The trees whisper again, rustling louder and louder. I stand and listen until I am sure I have heard the whole of the message.

"Your service was mine to command for a time, your duty and obligation have fulfilled it a thousand times over. But your life, Horatio, is not mine or thine to give or take."

"Nothing stayed me here but your request." And, I don't add, I don't believe in God like you do.

I lean against the castle wall, the cold stone under my fingertips, and drink. I look on the moon, impossibly bright in the trees, before the poison forces my eyes shut.

When I open them again, he is there, smiling.

I feel I ought to say something but I have no more words for him. I only stretch out my hand to him, and he takes it.

"So you came," he says, and all I can do is nod.

I close my fingers around his and let him lead me forward.