POA ch006 — Contact.

Summary: Contact is made.

Author's Notes: Looked like we might get another tie there, for a moment! Interesting. Enjoy.

Content Warnings: Ghosts (or are they?).

The phone briefly trembles in Henry’s hand as he wrestles with whom to call. His head begins to split open with that same stabbing pain.

“No!” Henry groans, pressing his other hand into his brow to stave it off.

The headache doesn’t crystallize. The pain fades, and Henry finds himself typing Felicity’s number into Whatsapp and composing a message.

Hey, it’s Henry, from the Pembroke trial. You gave me your number, earlier today. I’d love to talk. Coffee?

He fires off the message and hears the front door, downstairs. Must be Ash, Henry thinks, amused, as his housemate curses the blinds out for getting caught in the door (yet again).

“Hen?” Ash calls up, no doubt noticing Henry’s shoes on the little welcome mat Naomi had purchased when they all moved in together.

“Up here!”

Henry hears Ash’s heavy footsteps clomp up the staircase, and then his bedroom door is creaking open.

“You okay?” Ash asks.

“Yeah,” Henry replies, shuffling to lean his back against the wall. “Had a bit of a weird checkup. Um. Kind of… collapsed? A little bit?”

“Collapsed?!”

Ash invites themself to sit down on the edge of Henry’s bed and plants their hand out to the side leaning in and bracketing Henry’s legs between their torso and elbow.

“Are you doing alright now?”

“Yeah,” Henry rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… they asked me whether I’d had any weird experiences, and, well… the bit in the bathroom, with Naomi, and you also noticed something weird, right? But I couldn’t decide whether to tell them about it or not, and suddenly I was just hit with this splitting migraine. It was so bad I passed out, actually. Pain’s gone now, but… feels like it could come back? I almost thought I’d triggered it again, just now.”

“Damn,” Ash says. “Henry, that’s— that sucks, dude.”

“Something’s… something’s going on with me, Ash,” Henry confesses. Ash leans forward, a sympathetic frown on their face.

“You think there were side effects?”

“I don’t know if the effects were… ‘side,’” Henry says, thinking hard, “or if this was… the intended effect. But I keep feeling like there’s someone, something… maybe more than one thing… watching me.”

Ash chuckles.

Stops.

Furrows their brow.

“You’re serious?”

Henry snorts. “I mean, no? That’s… impossible, right?”

“Do you know what triggered the headache? And almost triggered another?” Ash asks after a moment’s contemplation. “Maybe the sensations are connected.”

“I— well. I suppose…”

Henry isn’t sure what triggered it. He ponders, and settles on the best answer he can give.

“I… it happened when Seonjae — lab tech lady — asked me a question and I wasn’t sure how to respond?”

”Hmm,” Ash muses. “Could be some kind of… social pressure, maybe? I can see why that might be overwhelming. You know how Naomi sometimes gets tired of socializing, and if we press her she works herself into a headache and has to lie down?”

”Maybe,” Henry says. “I just… I’ve never had that before. It’s definitely new. And then just now, I mean, nobody was here. I was just trying to decide something.”

Henry fiddles with his phone in his hand. There’s a conclusion to be drawn, somewhere in these strange little moments, but he can’t quite get to it.

“I’ve got it!” Ash snaps a couple times in triumph. “Decision fatigue!”

“What?”

“It’s— okay, this actually all makes sense,” Ash says, beaming. “We had a guest lecture in one of our modules from Dr. Pembroke, which is how I know her. She studies the psychology behind decision-making!”

“Wait, so, she did something to me that makes me… pass out when I’m indecisive? Because…” Henry trails off, laughing wryly. “I’m so indecisive. That would be a big problem.”

“It’s probably not as simple as that,” Ash says. “I mean, I don’t know any way she could, like, affect you that strongly? But then again, I’ve no idea what her study is about. They must have some sort of procedure that affects the part of your brain that governs decision-making, but… I don’t know. There’s not really one bit that you could just… turn off or move around. And it’s not like you have brain surgery scars, right? I mean, that would be crazy.”

“No,” Henry says, considering, “I don’t think they could’ve done anything that… invasive. I don’t think I would’ve agreed to that. It had to be something less… physical.”

“Although, it doesn’t quite make sense,” Ash continues, veering off into Neuroscience Land again. “You decided what you wanted for dinner, that first day. She even asked you about it; she prompted the decision, and you made it. No migraine or anything. So, it must be something else…”

All of this is absolutely stressing Henry out. He yawns. His phone pings.

Yes! Tomorrow? 2 pm? Do you like Gail’s? The one on Little Clarendon? 😊

Henry smiles at the message from Felicity and fires off a text agreeing to meet. Felicity seemed to know more about what was going on, perhaps she’s further along in the study and can give him some answers.

“What are you smiling about?” Ash asks, mystified.

“Oh! I met this girl at Dr. Pembroke’s lab today,” Henry explains. Ash’s face shutters, but Henry doesn’t notice. “Felicity. Gave me her number. I’m getting coffee with her tomorrow, just to… compare notes, I guess.”

“Right,” Ash murmurs. They shake their head, as though clearing the thoughts from it. “Okay. Um. I’m going to go and make some dinner. I left you the last couple slices of the pizza, if you want ‘em.”

“Thanks!” Henry says, already imagining what Felicity might be able to tell him tomorrow. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ash shuts the door softly behind them, and Henry flops back down on the bed. He falls asleep moments later.

…

When Henry finally descends the stairs back into their small living area, groggy from an unintended afternoon nap, Naomi is back. Ash, it appears, also just returned from an errand: the pitter-patter of rain can be heard against the windows, and Ash’s hair and rain jacket are wet. Both of Henry’s housemates are crowded around the small glass dining table tucked in the corner of their kitchen-area.

“Hi Naomi,” Henry greets groggily.

“Henry!” Naomi says, glancing around at him.

“How was your meeting?”

”Oh, fine,” Naomi waves the question away, her attention caught by something sitting on the table, hidden from view by Ash’s torso. “Professor Wilkins is so distracted these days. I guess whatever he and Dr. Pembroke are doing is really fascina— Ow! What, Ash?”

Ash shoots Naomi a look and removes their foot from where they’d emphatically trod on Naomi’s socked toes.

Ash widens their eyes and then shoots a glance over at Henry.

“What?” Naomi asks again. Henry sighs.

“It’s fine, Ash,” he says, and then faces Naomi. “I was telling Ash about my check-up I had earlier today. They’re trying not to upset me.”

“Why would that upset you?”

Henry goes to the fridge and pulls out the final pieces of leftover pizza.

“Oh,” he explains. “Well. I guess it’s not super fun to be the… the experiment that is super fascinating. Especially when it seems to have given me chronic migraines.”

“Oh,” Naomi echoes. “Damn. Yeah. Ash mentioned. I’m sorry, that makes sense.”

Henry shrugs. “Honestly, I appreciate it, Ash, but it doesn’t bother me. Plus, if Wilkins drops any… hints about what they actually did, I’d love to know.”

Henry plops the cold pizza on a plate and brings it over to the dining table, sagging into the chair next to where Naomi and Ash are still standing.

This is when Henry registers what they’re so excited about.

The pizza falls out of Henry’s hand and goes slap on the plate.

“Is that a fucking Ouija board?” Henry turns his open-mouthed expression on Ash. “Did you just go out and buy a fucking Ouija board?”

“A spirit board,” Ash corrects. “It’s off-brand.”

And so it is: A plank of dark-colored wood with a burnished design. The letters of the alphabet arc across the center in two curved rows. In the top left, the word YES is written out, and NO on the opposite corner. Below the letters, the digits zero to nine are written out, and the word GOODBYE is spelled out below the numbers. Ash even purchased the typical spade-shaped wooden planchette with a hole in its center, as if they are really going to hold some kind of seance.

Ash just shrugs and smiles ruefully. “They had one at the OxFam on Broad Street. Said the previous owner donated it after it totally spooked them out.”

Naomi frowned. “Do you really believe in all that shit? Ghosts and stuff?”

“Well, I didn’t,” Ash replies defensively. “But then Henry found himself in some kind of… well, whatever he’s gotten himself into, and then he and I both saw something behind him, so now I…”

Ash trails off.

“Look, I don’t know what I believe,” Ash says, “I mostly just bought this as a… as a joke. To get Henry’s mind off all the weirdness.”

“Hell of a way to get me to stop thinking about weirdness,” Henry murmurs.

“You’re right,” Ash says, and scoops the board and the pointer back into their arms. “I’ll return it. This was a stupid idea.”

“No!” Ash just looks so sad, and, honestly, it has distracted Henry. He’s immensely curious about the whole thing. He isn’t (wasn’t?) a superstitious person, but there was always something intriguing about spirit boards. Henry reaches out a hand to stop Ash from turning away. “No, let’s try it. It’ll be something fun to do tonight. And while I’m sure—” Henry lies. “—that nothing will happen, we can at least pretend we’re in one of those spooky ghost movies.”

“Ooh!” Naomi claps her hands together excitedly. “Spooky ghost party! I can light some fun candles!”

Ash smiles cautiously. “Yeah? Shall we try it?”

…

The three housemates finish up their respective dinners, the spirit board leaning innocuously against the wall beneath the staircase, waiting for its moment. They debate jokingly about what to ask the spirits they inevitably summon as they tidy up the dishes and clear a space on the floor.

“I bet it’ll be some kind of child who died of the plague,” Naomi theorizes. “Ooh! We can ask about her symptoms, and publish the only modern first-hand account of what it was like to die of the Black Death in the middle ages!”

“That sentence,” Henry observes, “was like if you put a ‘weird history’ documentary into a blender.”

“What if we end up talking to one of Jack the Ripper’s victims?” Ash asks.

“Did Jack the Ripper have any victims in Oxfordshire?”

“Oh.” Ash pursues their lips. “Well. Who’s to say ghosts can’t travel? It’s not like they have much else to do.” Henry laughs at his friends as he scrubs the dishes in the sink. The nerves haven’t left him, setting his fingers twitching. As much as Henry’s never really believed in ghosts or demons or the like, he can still feel those phantom fingers pressing gently against his collar bone, those shivers of someone looking at him, even if there’s no one there.

There’s no one there, Henry reminds himself. Then, for good measure, he adds, And if you are there, you better play nice.

Henry huffs a laugh at himself. But I know there’s no one there. There’s no one listening. Obviously.

Obviously.

Henry leaves the dishes to drain on the rack beside the sink as Naomi places the final candles around the spirit board. With a groan, Ash lowers themself to the ground. Naomi folds up, cross-legged, on Ash’s right, and Henry walks over and settles down opposite his friends.

“How do we do this?”

“Um. In the movies, I think they just put their hands on the planchette?” Ash suggests. “And then maybe we should close our eyes?”

“Wait, no,” Naomi says. “If we close our eyes we won’t be able to see where it’s moving to, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.”

“It’s not going to move,” Henry insists, trying to convince himself.

“Don’t ruin it!” Naomi cajoles. “We can at least pretend.”

“Let’s just… let’s just all hold the thing, and then… I nominate Naomi to talk to… to the ghosts,” Henry says, not quite believing what’s coming out of his mouth.

Naomi nods in mock seriousness.

“Okay,” Ash agrees. “Um. Just, Henry, I know we’re pretending that this is just for shits and giggles, but… um. Please don’t move the thing, alright? At least not for the first question. J-just in case there really is—”

Ash stops.

“I know there isn’t,” they insist self-consciously, “I know it isn’t going to move on it’s own, but just promise me you… you won’t move it? Just to fuck with me?”

And Ash is looking so desperately worried that they’ll be shot down, that their worries won’t be taken seriously, what else can Henry do but promise?

”Okay,” Henry says. “I promise. I’m not going to move the planchette.”

Ash nods. A sober air has come over the group, with none of the silliness that had preceded the gathering.

“Okay,” Naomi says. “Alright. Um. Hello? Spirits? Or… whoever you are? Are you out there?”

Silence as Ash, Henry, and Naomi wait with baited breath.

The planchette begins to move.**