In the end, the Pie-Maker figured out yet another catch stringed along to his supernatural powers. He had long suspected this with his dog, Digby, the first living organism he had brought back to life after he (Digby) had been ran over with an 18-wheeler truck.
It was only when Lily, Chuck's mother, had began to feel age racing up to her. It was only then when both Chuck and the Pie-Maker discussed the inevitable split: Digby had been alive far too long and the only rational reason to that was he was immortal because of Ned's magic touch and there was no reason to think that Chuck wouldn't be an exception to the immortality he granted the minute he resurrected the dead who remained undead.
It was then settled, but not without the teary sobs and cries, they parted as friends yet as lovers, at heart, they remained throughout Ned's fairly natural life.
They became a family in more ways than anyone would think—after P.I. Emerson Cod's marriage to Simone Hundin, one of the four widows of one polygamist and dog breeder, Harold Hundin, they were blessed with a child, a baby boy who would be the godchild of both, quote unquote, "Pie Boy and Dead Girl". In a sense, they were a family and they were parents to young J.R. (Jack Russell, named after the dog breed.), and in a way, they escaped the reality with that responsibility to their godson, they were able to pretend that they were together with a family their own.
Chuck soon then accompanied her aunt and mother on their European tour as their new manager while Ned began to franchise and expand The Pie Hole throughout the country with the money he had saved up from his partnership with Emerson Cod, who he continued to work with until a faithful meeting with childhood sweetheart, no longer the Lonely Tourist, as she was once dubbed by the media during her first death.
During the Darling Mermaid Darlings homecoming tour, she met up with the Pie-Maker, who had welcomed her back with open arms, figuratively, of course.
Ned had been in his mid 30's and yet no he was seeing no one, which made Chuck upset, seeing that the reason they had went off on their different paths was that he could have a life he did not have as a child—they had broken up, mutually, so that he can have the family he needed.
The Pie-Maker believed in one thing—their love would suffice and that he would want no other family than the one he has with the not-so Lonely Tourist.
Ned, being Ned, argued that he does not need that kind of family, but the Pie-Maker was kidding no one but himself. Latex gloves and all, they danced on the rooftop that once held Chuck's beloved bees, as they exchanged their final goodbye, seeing that the reason why the Pie-Maker couldn't possibly move on is due to the fact that there was always the possibility of them. But as much as the Alive-Again Adventurer entertained the hopeful idea, there was simply no chance of doing so.
Along with Digby, her Aunt Vivian and mother Lily Charles, they flew once again to Europe, this time, to settle permanently.
Though in Europe, she did not forget about her godson and continued to spoil him rotten with gifts, Darling Mermaid Darlings memorabilia which would fetch him a hefty price on eBay, sent him letters with pop-ups (A craft and art she had learned from friend, Emerson Cod.), and celebratory gifts for random occasions such as graduations and birthdays.
She kept herself busy with a business venture, The Cup Pie, a brainchild she had formed during her relationship and stay with the man who brought her back to life. She kept herself busy and yet she often found herself tear stricken as she clutched a picture to her chest—as she clutched a framed photograph of her and the Pie-Maker along with their godson, Jack Russell, or J.R., close to her heart as she cried herself to sleep.
Ned, although reluctant to do so, had eventually moved on from childhood sweetheart, Charlotte Charles, the girl next door who he called Chuck. He was often set up on blind dates, courtesy of one Olive Mann due to the persistence of Chuck Charles, who she was in cahoots with, and moved on and had a family of his own and was family man since then who smiled warmly and tenderly at his family, but a few selected friends could see right through the façade and spot the weary heart he carried along through his life.
With his firstborn, he considered making Chuck the godmother, but it was like reopening a wound and rubbing all over it. He finally decided on Olive and her husband, Randy Mann, who became the godparents of his firstborn child, a daughter named after his mother, who had died when a blood vessel in her brain had burst, thus killing her instantly before she was resurrected, who then died after kissing young Ned goodnight on the forehead.
For his second child, his son, Ned named him after an unlikely person—his former flame's father, Charles Charles, the man who he had killed because he was in proximity and resurrected and the same man who stole his car and drove off into the distance, leaving his daughter, abandoning her much like how his own father abandoned three sons.
Although this certain decision earned the Pie-Maker certain criticism from friends Olive, Randy Mann, and P.I. Emerson Cod, they knew the answer long before they interrogated—it was his paying homage towards the girl he had let go to live the life they both had longed to live, to her sacrifice.
His friends and trusted companions had long died—P.I. Emerson Cod was killed because of an asthma attack while he was trailing a criminal. When revived, he wasted no time in giving out details on who the criminal is and what he needs to tell his children, daughter Penny and son J.R., and wife, two-time widower, Simone Cod.
Former employee and business partner, Olive Mann, had died peacefully in her sleep. When brought back to life for her exclusive minute, she thanked the Pie-Maker for opening The Pie Hole, for hiring her, for rescuing her from the nunnery, and for indirectly leading her towards the man who would be her very own Mr. Right, her very own taxidermist.
It was almost cruel, the Pie-Maker decided, how he would be the last to go as he attended their funerals—yet it brought him relief, knowing that the woman in the back of the Church, heavily dressed in black and heavily dressed in clothes, watched silently.
It was the closest the Pie-Maker got to being with her after their farewell dance on their once bee-inhabited rooftop in Papen County. He felt selfish, yes, but the Pie-Maker's heart rejoiced even though he did not acknowledge her during those funerals, even though he could not bring himself to say a word or even look at her—which happened to be the greatest regret in his life.
The retired Pie-Maker, who now happened to be 81 years, 5 months, 3 weeks, 14 days, 7 hours and 29 minutes old, had long been widowed and was recently diagnosed with incurable (Tracy) Mosby's Disease, had flew himself over to Switzerland to perform his last deed.
After arriving in Switzerland, the very first thing the old and frail Pie-Maker asked his grandchildren was to dial a number he memorized by heart to call a certain immortal woman he had revived called Charlotte "Chuck" Charles to pay him a visit and to say goodbye.
"So," the man with thick brown hair, much like his grandfather, began the conversation with currently, once again, Lonely Tourist, Charlotte Charles. "You're his grandchild, too?" she nodded, unable to trust her mouth or her vocabulary in this situation. "Your mom was his daughter from an ex-girlfriend?" that had hit her hard in the heart, for the ex-girlfriend, unbeknownst to the grandchildren of the man she loved, was standing right in front of them.
For Charlotte, it was almost humorous if it weren't for the fact that she was not meant to be there or was she meant to exist in his life the moment she had originally died.
"You don't look like him," another grandchild commented, effectively shrinking her patience like how it had once rapidly decreased to the point of nothingness during the interrogation Blanche Ramora, the other half to the Aquadolls.
But much to her supreme relief, there was someone to vouch for her—P.I. and part-time restaurateur Jack Russell Cod, her godson who knew about her secret.
Soon, Charlotte Charles entered the room that smelled of bleach and medication. She immediately felt her eyes fill up with tears as her vision blurred, slightly thankful for the medical mask she was required to wear for muffling her silent sob as she entered the room, not wanting to wake up the resting Pie-Maker, who was enjoying his probable last at-will shut eye.
Immediately, a hand flew directly to her mouth as yet another throaty sob threatened to escape her lips. She pressed it hard against her lips as she placed the homemade cup-pie she had baked for this occasion.
She knew that he would have wanted a traditional pie, as he had always pointed out throughout their relationship, but this was made with her harvested honey—the Lonely Tourist was selfish enough to have the Pie-Maker pass on with having something taste like home, something like a pie recipe his mother had used to prepare for him, even if it was only the bleach-infused scent of the cup-pie she had brought for him, but it was actually for her benefit.
She went to rest near him, sitting on a chair she brought closer to him, and closed her eyes, trying to picture herself in their old apartment, as if they had not broken up, as if time had frozen up in that particular perfect morning.
"Are you watching me sleep?" a raspy voice caused her eye lids to suddenly fly up. Charlotte Charles immediately cried when she saw the Pie-Maker, who painstakingly still looked like the man he once was during his prime. "I'm sorry, Chuck, I didn't mean to startle you—that wouldn't be my intention. . .ever." The Pie-Maker confessed, giving her a sheepish grin and an apologetic look.
Erupted from the once dead girl was a throat-y chuckle mixed with a sob—which caused the Pie-Maker to ask and consider why it was a mixture, her reaction.
"No, it's alright," the usually bright and cheerful brunette smiled through her somewhat transparent medical mask. "And to answer your question, Ned, I wasn't—well, er, technically, watching you sleep." The Pie-Maker laughed at her response. "I was waiting for you to wake up but in the process. . .yes," she conceded and gave up. "I was watching you sleep." She admittedly sheepishly, which earned her a half-smile from her ex-boyfriend, Ned.
"How are you?" Chuck, somehow, found humor in that, seeing that he was going to die and he asked her how she was doing.
"I'm quite fine," soon, the aged Pie-Maker began a coughing fit, which filled Chuck with worry as she watched the once dashing man reduced to illness. "You know, seeing that I'm wrapped around in so much plastic, I think you deserve this." She leaned in slowly and carefully and embraced the man she loved, trying to breathe in his authentic scent. This act of affection caused the Pie-Maker to laugh cheerfully, his eyes crinkled yet shining with delight.
"I needed that," he confessed, giving her a half-smile, something that reminded her of their time together. "I mean a hug is like the emotional Heimlich, right?" then, and only then, the Lonely Tourist cried as she looked at the Pie-Maker's brown orbs. She smiled gratefully at the elderly man and hugged him a bit tighter because she herself needed that emotional Heimlich as she caught a sob stuck in her throat.
"You remembered?" she asked, a soft smile gracing her features. It had been something she told him the very day he had resurrected her, when he informed her of the restrictions of their relationship.
The undead girl then raised a brow, seeing that the Pie-Maker was initially against hugs.
"Of course I did—I remember all the little things we did." He smiled fondly, reminiscing and revisiting the memories as he sniffed the air, smiling at the distinctive smell of the pie and the nontraditional scent of honey. It only made it the scent so special for the Pie-Maker, having something to remember, rather smell, a part of her by. "It's actually a crime of passion," his raspy voice mellowed down, as if he was drowsy. "It's a crime of passion, not realizing the passion in time."
The Alive-Again Adventurer could no longer hide her feelings. "Ned, I love you—I will always love you." It was unlike the cheery brunette to be this serious, but this occasion proved to be an exception to her—both the event and the man in the bed. "I will never forget you," soon Charlotte Charles removed a necklace from her neck and gently placed it on the drowsy Pie-Maker, whose five minutes is running out.
The necklace was actually a locket, containing her picture and a bit of Digby's fur, who was not allowed inside the clinic, much to her and their mourning golden retriever's disappointment.
It felt like the exhilarating 60 seconds during the interrogation of a once dead corpse, except this took too much emotion and seemed to take an eternity.
His voice, now evidently drowsy and weary. "Thank you for coming back into my life." His hand flew to locket that was placed right above his slowly and weakly beating heart. Charlotte was about to open her mouth to protest when she realized that the Pie-Maker did not mean her visiting her in Switzerland, but the fact that he resurrected her. "Thank you for being the Lonely Tourist, thank you for saving me," his eyes were now drooping and his breathing slowed down, she knew that his end was close.
"Ned, thank you for bringing me back to life," she caressed his face, gently rubbing comforting circles as his breathing slowly became even.
Just as Chuck Charles thought he was resting in his eternal slumber, his head turned to face her again. "Chuck?" and for a second, it sounded like they were both still young. "Do you remember the day we told your Aunt Vivian and your mother about you? About the truth?" she nodded, pursing her lips together, not wanting anything to stop him, to waste any breath, wanting to hear his voice for as long as she could. "I told you that I was lying, that I hid your existence for my benefit?" again, she tearfully nodded as the Pie-Maker uncovered a portion of his arm to be exposed.
"Ned?"
"Although I don't prefer you doing this, I don't want to be selfish anymore," it had suddenly clicked in Chuck's mind.
The facts were these: during the funerals of Emerson Cod and of Olive Mann, the Pie-Maker did not even made a single move to acknowledge his ex-girlfriend's presence. Of course, it had hurt her immensely, but at the same time, Charlotte Charles was glad because she thought that he had moved on—but he didn't, the Pie-Maker knew that she wanted to end it all and he deprived her of the choice. Up until this moment, Chuck realized that he agreed distanced himself from her, not only to give her the wish of moving on with a family of his own, but also to protect her from him.
"You can end this now, but I'd prefer you to live on. . .well, again," he made a remark, a sly smile resting on his lips. "I'm offering this now because it might not work after my death." Charlotte Charles was left speechless—touch his cheek would be a little like her own resurrection, except she was going to die this time, a kiss to the lips would be poetic. "But, if you're going to do this," his voice brought her attention back to reality, "Chuck, please do it after I fall asleep—I couldn't bear to watch you die," it was only then when she decided to stop all of this.
Charlotte Charles broke up the Pie-Maker because she couldn't live her life knowing he was depriving himself of everything he wanted, just to be with her. She figured that she may do the love of her life the last favor she could actually do for him—put him and his happiness first.
So, she shook her head. "No," Charlotte Charles sealed her fate as the woman who would eventually watch everyone she loved go, yet she sealed that fate long ago. "You gave me a second chance at life, Ned." He smiled lopsidedly. It was a lazy smile, but she knew that it was all he can afford to give, along with his heart and devotion. "I'll live the life, Ned—I'll travel the world again, not for me." She covered up his arm and looked lovingly into the Pie-Maker's eyes that had shut down, seemingly asleep if it weren't for the pressure on her hand. "For you," she barely got it out, her voice breaking.
"Take care of Digby for me," much like the woman he loved, he barely got the words out, gasping every once in a while for air. "I love you, Chuck. I love you, Charlotte Charles." Impulsively, she, still wearing the surgical mask, leaned in and kissed the Pie-Maker, much like how they kissed through plastic wrap and cling film before he loosened his grip on her hand, slumping back, sleeping until Death came.
And so the Lonely Tourist, Charlotte Charles, buried the man she loved, assuming the name Katherine "Kitty" Pimms once again, a name she had used, a name the Pie-Maker had suggested for her to use as her cover name whenever the need arose.
Much like her own funeral, he was buried with something—a necklace containing home.
During the funeral, it was Digby who placed the flowers on his coffin, both "Kitty" and Digby, the immortal dog who does not age. She broke down while she gave the daisies as Digby tried to comfort the both of them by licking her tears away and by tasting salt, something Digby loved—yet it would not suffice. The dog, much like Olive Mann has once said, needs to be touched with affection, and although the woman who fed him continued to give him affection, and although he understood why the Pie-Maker could never pet him, he needed the touch of his master, the affection he was deprived of.
P.I. slash restaurateur J.R. Cod gave out the eulogy, seeing how his godmother could not possibly bring herself to say a few words. He reminded the Lonely Tourist much of his late father, P.I. Emerson Cod. Henriette "Henri" Mann, Olive Mann's granddaughter, sung for the funeral, reminding her, once again, of a person she used to have, the first person she considered her sister and best friend.
After the funeral, Chuck and Digby made good on the promise she swore upon. She lived her life, challenging traditions the way the Pie-Maker could never, seeing the world again the way Ned couldn't possibly have, and making each day a lot more precious by living it the way they would have lived it.
I do not own Pushing Daisies or anything. Bryan Fuller and co does that for me.