A/N: Ive have this one almost finished for ages and not sure how to finish it and im still not sure I like the ending but lets be honest, this was mostly about writing Charlie's diary entries.I dont write Danny like this anymore (seriously this fic was started in Feb.) but it was a nice trip down memory lane :-)
Charlie Davis returned to Ballarat with little fanfare.
Lucien and Jean threw him a tiny party and invited some friends who didn't live in the house. Like the dutiful son he is, Charlie did the rounds and said hello to everyone who was there. He got a drink, wandered some more, ate some snacks, then vanished.
Danny went looking for him, of course. Jean needed him in the kitchen to help wash up, since apparently no one else was capable. He wasn't in his bedroom, or the bathroom, or Lucien's office. He wasn't in any of the other bedrooms, or watching over Rose from a dark corner. In fact, when Danny did find him, he was outside sitting on a lawn chair with Matthew.
They were sitting remarkably close, almost touching but not quite, lost in a conversation of their own. It didn't seem like they had even noticed that the party was over. Watching from the verandah, Danny caught the tail end of their conversation on the breeze.
"I really missed this. Everything in Melbourne is so loud compared here. It's nice to sit out here and be one with nature. "
"This is what you consider one with nature?"
"That's nature, ain't it?"
"I mean, sure, if you've never seen the world outside of the city before."
"What are you implying by that?"
"Have you ever been camping?"
"Well, no-"
"I rest my case." Matthew said, reaching out and taking Charlie's drink from his hand, and swallowing half of it. Undeterred, Charlie tilted his head onto Matthew's arm. Danny paused and decided to give them a moment before he recruited Charlie for the dishes.
That week, when Charlie returned to work at the station, now a proud detective, Danny became aware of something. Charlie was, easily, Matthew's favourite. He would never have expected Matthew to play favourites until he saw it happen. He assigned Charlie to the patrols he asked for, gave him the best cases and never told him off for not washing up his tea cups. Charlie, in return, was always around when Matthew needed him, bringing him tea or going with him to interview suspects. Apparently, Danny was the only one who found the amount of time they spent together (and the unprecendented amount of time Charlie spent starring at Matthew) unusual.
Unlike Bill, who seemed use to the unfairness of the situation, Danny, understandably was a little put out. He worked just as hard as Charlie, and he hadn't been sent to Ballarat to spy on him to boot. Matthew had known him almost his whole life, and he'd known Charlie what? A year?
Charlie didn't seem to notice it either, even when he did things that Danny knew he could never get away with, like going through Matthew's desk for a case
"Don't you think it's unfair?" He asked Bill as they sat together drinking after a difficult case. He can see Charlie from where he is sitting. He's drinking lemonade and chattering away with Lucien and the Matthew, looking very much like he belongs there.
"What's unfair?"
"How Charlie gets special treatment."
"Does he?"
"You don't see it?"
"Well, Charlie is…His friend. Have you maybe considered that your friends will have friends outside of you?" Bill asked, as Danny decided to let the subject drop. Clearly, he wasn't going to be any help.
…
It surprises Danny that Matthew still watches A Game of Champions, despite the two murders that took place. But he also supposed that people have a short memory and are willing to put aside a lot for a show they like. It helped that it put Matthew into a good mood, especially if they were working the evening shift.
Matthew was, of course, tended to by his ever faithful lapdog, Charlie. From what he can understand, Charlie has no interest in the show (or television in general) but dutifully sits on the sofa with Matthew, watching people flex their brain muscles anyway. It's a weird thing, but he supposes he could understand it. He doesn't like Rose's taste in films but that doesn't mean he's going to turn her down.
This particular evening, Matthew has his feet up in Charlie's lap, insisting that it's going to rain because the humidity is making his legs hurt, so he needs to keep them elevated. Charlie is a good sport about it, Danny thought, watching as he gave Matthew an almost depressingly half hearted foot rub. Charlie's other hand is tracing the pattern on the couch arm.
They seemed very domestic.
"Now, see this is the sort of contestant they need more of." Matthew said, as the young woman on screen put on the headphones. Danny wonders if he will ever stop expecting them to electrocute the person in the booth.
"Pretty young ladies?"
"Normal people. People who's questions can be answered by the common person."
"So, you?" Charlie asked, tone cheeky. Danny doesn't ever recall hearing him talk like that at the station. In fact, at the station, Charlie was generally the most controlled and joyless person in the room. Sitting on the couch with Matthew, he looked relaxed. At least, as relaxed as it was possible for him to look.
"Do you really think people enjoy watching a show with questions they don't get?" Matthew asked, not taking his eyes off the television.
"I wouldn't know. I don't get any television." Charlie admitted. "Ask Danny." Matthew tossed a glance Danny's way.
"Right?"
"Yeah." He agreed. "There's no point to a show if the other people can't join in." Deciding he'd won the discussion (if it could even be called that) Matthew settled back in his seat. Charlie gave him a look of incredible fondness briefly, then looked back to the television.
…
When they aren't occupying the couch together, Danny can usually find Charlie and Matthew at the station. Charlie often brings Matthew a cup of tea when he makes one for himself, or brings back lunch for the both of them. When they're talking as a group, it's not usual to see Charlie sitting on or leaning on Matthew's desk. Danny knows damn well if he tried that then he'd get his head bit off.
Charlie is also allowed to take the car wherever he likes. Danny is not. It's a little like they're mocking him. Charlie, for what it's worth, seems to be on the side of 'let Danny take the car' and has oft argued his case with Matthew. Matthew, seemingly unable to deny Charlie anything he wants, has even said yes.
They were also liable to be found in the bottom storage room full of cold cases and dusty old boxes that Danny has always suspected was mostly used for illicit sexual activity. Now, it wasn't that he wanted to catch Charlie and the boss having sex (even picturing it gave him the shivers) he just wanted to...Confirm his suspicions that there was something up between them. There had to be, right? There was no other explanation for it.
So when they both went down there, Charlie rather suddenly, and Matthew slinking after, Danny waited several minutes, and followed. The door had been locked behind them, but a bit of quiet jimming (the old locks weren't what they used to be) and shut the door behind him as he made his way down the stairs to listen in. He didn't hear what he expected, or see it, either. Charlie is leaning on a shelf of old files, dabbing at his face with one of Matthew's handkerchiefs. He knew it was Matthew, because he could see the monogram from here, one of the ones Rose gave him for Christmas.
Matthew is standing nearby, not entering Charlie's personal space. He looks concerned, and has his arms folded. One of his hands is playing with the fabric of his jacket.
"I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot." Charlie breaks the silence, sniffing quietly.
"It's not your fault."
"I know what you're trying to do, but it really is."
"No, it's not your fault." Matthew said, in a firm voice usually reserved for giving orders. "Tell me what it was, and I'll fix it."
"This is the first time I've been scheduled in at the station alone since…" Pause. "You know. Ned." Matthew gives him an understanding nod. "I keep thinking about him every time I sit at my desk. I keep thinking that if I'd been faster, if I'd been smarter, if I'd insisted Bill should stay on with me, then he'd be here." Another pause, Charlie dabs at his eyes again. Danny sits back on his haunches, he hadn't really thought about Charlie finding Ned. Though he supposed he maybe should have.
He knew Charlie found him, Hell, he knew almost as much about Charlie as Rose, the source of his Charlie-related information. But no one had mentioned hiding downstairs and crying as something he did. Maybe they don't know? Maybe they should.
"Then I'll stay on with you." Matthew said, like he was solving the simplest problem on Earth.
"You don't need too. What are the odds of finding a dead friend in the station twice?"
"If you don't deal with this now, you'll regret it later. You are allowed to be upset about this."
"Yeah, sure. But Ned doesn't." Matthew remains still. "I should have known better. I could have stopped all of this. Munro didn't have to die, either. If I'd been here, I could have stopped that." Charlie said, talking himself around in a circle. Matthew finally stood and walked over. He encircled Charlie in his arms before he could move away. Charlie squirms at first, tries to slide out of the hold but after a moment, stops. He even let Matthew kiss his forehead and keep his arms tightly in place.
"You couldn't have known. You did your job." Matthew says, mostly into Charlie's hair. Charlie doesn't say anything. Danny slips out before he's noticed.
…
"Do you think that there's something going on with your uncle and Charlie?"
Rose pulled the blanket up over her chest and glared at him.
"Seriously? We just finished having sex, and you want to talk about my uncle and…Him?" Alright maybe he'd selected a bad time to bring this up. In his defense…No. There wasn't one. He just sucked.
"Sorry, it's just been on my mind a lot, lately." He attempts.
"Okay, I'll bite. Why?" She said, with that same look she gets about a good scoop that he will openly admit drives him crazy.
"Matthew's just…He's Matthew's favourite."
"A blind man could have told you that." Rose said, rolling her eyes. They have a date later on, just the two of them. Going for a walk in the park, then to a nice place to eat. He told Charlie earlier on, and for a brief second, he looked like he wanted to say something more than the obligatory congratulations he did give. He worried, on occasion that Charlie might try and, as juvenile as it sounded, steal his girl. So far, Charlie has done no such thing, and is typically too involved in work, Matthew, baking, or a mix of all three to even raise the notion he may.
"But…Isn't it at least a little odd?"
"No."
"Really?"
"That Uncle Matthew plays favourites? No. That it's Charlie? Also no."
"Why do you think that?"
"Have you met them? They're pretty much the same in all the ways that count. Absolutely no surprise Matthew would want someone like himself to run his pride and joy."
"He wants Charlie to run the station?"
"It's a secret." Danny does not comment, perhaps wisely, on the fact that she is sharing secrets with him.
"I just want to know why him. Why not me? Or Bill. Or anyone else." Rose gave him a weird look.
"Are you sure there's nothing weird going on between you and Charlie?"
"No." Rose sighed and rolled onto her side.
"You didn't hear this from me, but if you want to know something about Charlie, read his journal."
"His journal?"
"The one that no one is meant to know about. He hides it in his bedroom. I doubt you'll find anything interesting, but. Just recipes and case notes."
"Huh." Danny said, rolling onto his back to look up at the roof. The walls weren't thin, exactly, but Matthew has taken to listening to the radio when he thinks there will be unwanted noises. Listening, he can hear Charlie laughing just over the sound of the swing song just down the hall. Charlie has a kind of weird halting laugh that sounds like he's just figuring out how to use it.
Danny rolls over and pulls Rose into his arms for another kiss.
…
"So I take it you got Jean's recipe for ANZAC biscuits, then?"
"Not for nothing, I had to perform a ritual sacrifice on a virgin and also trade my potato recipe." Charlie replied. Having just heard what is probably the closest he's ever heard to Charlie making a joke, Danny came to a halt in the kitchen doorway. Charlie was standing at the bench, wearing an apron and putting small handfuls of biscuit dough onto the baking tray. Matthew was sitting at the table, reading a glossy magazine taken from Lucien's office. It looked to be golf related, so that was probably why.
It looks like they've been here for a while. Charlie's hands are covered with flour, and there is flour on Matthew's cheek as well. Danny has never imagined Matthew as someone who did a lot of baking, so he suspected that he was just in here to keep Charlie company. Charlie on the other hand, seemed to enjoy baking as his only proper hobby. Not that anyone minded, his meringues had been a big hit at Lucien and Jean's one year party get together thing. Danny would know, he ate about seven.
"Are you going to just stand there?" Matthew inquires without so much as looking up from his magazine. Surprised, he walked over and took a seat at the table. Charlie passed him a fork.
"Here, help me flatten them a little." He said. Danny has never done much baking, and the little he had done hadn't been especially fun, but he was certain he could handle this.
He picked up the fork and carefully started pressing the four pronged pattern into the orange mixture. He quickly catches up to Charlie, who is taking his sweet time to lay the round balls of mixture onto the baking paper.
"Matthew and I were just discussing the correct length of time to bake the biscuits for." Charlie said, casually picking a piece of oat off the back of his hand.
"Until they're cooked?"
"Well, yes. But do you like them hard or soft?"
"Soft, obviously."
"Cowards, both of you." Matthew lamented. Charlie laughs his weird laugh and puts the final ball of mixture onto the tray.
"Sorry I don't like breaking my teeth on biscuits." He said, bending over to slide the tray into the oven.
"In my day, we didn't have a choice. Only the strong survived." Matthew replied, as Charlie set Jean's oven timer for ten minutes and starting to tidy up the ingredients he had out. Not fancying to help him with that, Danny slipped away. He could hear Charlie and Matthew continuing their argument all the way up the stairs.
When he got to his room, he realized the only way Matthew could have gotten flour on his cheek was from Charlie's hands.
…
Going through someone else's things is wrong. Especially when that someone lives in the room down from you, and would probably flip his lid if he found out.
That doesn't stop him from shutting the door to Charlie's bedroom so that he can go through it and find the damn journal.
Charlie's room is…Impersonal. Three suitcases are stacked one on top of the other on the top of his wardrobe. There are no family photos visible, the only book is a copy of the bible on top of his nightstand. Inside the nightstand he finds a couple of lose photographs he's been given since his return, both of them include Matthew Lawson, some rubbers, a small jar of Vaseline; half empty, a lighter engraved as 'To Charlie, from Mags', a box of cigarettes, a framed picture of his father and a handful of pencils. On the dresser is a tin of hairwax and a comb, nothing else. In the wardrobe, all his shirts hang neatly on their hangers, and his casual shirts are folded away into drawers. No sign of a journal.
He checked under the pillowed and the bed and the sheets and the mattress.
Nothing.
Only when he sat on the bed did he noticed a piece of the wooden flooring is slightly raised. Walking over, he pressed it with his foot, it was moveable. Using his fingertips, he pried the wood up and looked inside. Sure enough, there was a leather bound journal sitting at the bottom of the little hollow. Under the book were a collection of expensive looking pieces of ladies jewelry that he's pretty sure Charlie couldn't even identify let alone own.
He left it well enough alone and took the journal onto Charlie's bed to indulge himself.
The first passage is titled 'Arrival'
Today, I arrived in Ballarat. I'm starting a new journal to celebrate the occasion. The doctor and I had already discussed where I would be staying. Daniel Parks has taken up in my old room, and I have been given choice of the remaining ones.
Lucien's old bedroom; declined for obvious reasons. Mattie's old room, declined for obvious reasons The spare upstairs room; good choice, but very full of storage boxes. Seems Lucien didn't deal with anything they took out of the downstairs studio. Jean's old room; selected
I'm a little upset that I didn't get my old room back, but first in best dressed I suppose. I did, however, get my old desk at the station back. The alternative was to move into Ned's desk, and I don't think I could have done that. It was very kind of Matthew to do that for me.
Ned has been gone for almost a whole year, but I've been away from Ballarat for so long that it doesn't feel like it for me. I feel a bit stupid, being upset over something that everyone else has clearly moved on from. But so long as I keep it to myself, I should be fine.
I'm most excited to spend some more time with M.L, I missed him a lot while I was away. I'm hoping that we can go back to spending time together and listening to music on Saturday nights, that was always nice. I'm going to end this entry here, since I have nothing else to report.
Danny felt…Disappointed by the entry. He'd been expecting to learn Charlie's dirty secrets and instead learned…He was disappointed to be sleeping a different room. He flips a few pages forward to an entry entitled 'Fatherhood'
Rose told me today that during our … entanglement, she briefly thought she was pregnant. When she told me, I went through pretty much every emotion known to man in the span of five seconds. Hurt, anger, sadness, relief.
The relief part took me by surprise. I suppose there's a few reasons for that, primarily that I'd have had to marry her and if my relationship with Rose has proved anything it's that as much as I love and care for her, we do not work as partners. I would never wish for my child to live with parents who don't love each other. I've always thought that was one of the most important parts of parenthood, loving your child, and loving each other.
The second thing is that I'm not sure I want kids. No, that's not true. I do want kids. I love kids. But I'm not certain of my ability to be a father. I can't be a brother or a lover so what chance do I have of being a half decent father? I'm not exactly rolling in my ability to correctly read and comprehend emotions. I love being a brother, I'd love it more if I was any good at it. I'm thirty five this year. I feel like whatever the man version of a spinster is. I'd already resigned myself to not having kids, so to find out I could have had one, if only that darn rubber had broke? I was a little disappointed.
I know that was a cruel thing to think. Rose doesn't want kids, and I'd never even considered it prior to that moment. I wouldn't want her to be unhappy. I'm not my father.
Then I got to thinking about my own father, and our deep dark family secret that no one can know. (I think it's safe to put it in here, though)
My dad was a dirty cop.
He murdered and fucked his way around Melbourne for most of my life. No one ever did anything about it, but. They just let me believe that he was great. No kid wants to hear bad things about their dad. I didn't, and I wish I hadn't found out, either. But I guess nothing can stay buried anymore, not properly. I found out when I was twenty and I just joined the force properly. They talked about me being the next Norm Davis. It's rough to find out your dad was notorious for killing people and fucking prostitutes in your first week of work, that's for sure.
My mother tells people that she only has two children, but she actually has five. Between me and Ray, there are three other kids. Three other Davis-es. James, Michael, Jonathan. Jimmy, Mikey, Jono. They all took off pretty much as soon as they could. Not that I blame them. What was waiting for them at home? Our manic mother, me and the baby. They're probably better off.
I know where Jono is, he's in the Army, he's stationed in Perth. We exchange letters on Christmas, his daughter is beautiful.
Mikey is dead (God rest his soul) so I don't need to worry about him anymore, though he might have benefited from more worry while he was alive.
Jimmy…I don't know. He took off, and moved away. I think he uses an alias now, but I don't know what it is.
Then Ray. Ray was just a kid when all that shit went down, he doesn't remember any of it. He doesn't even remember Dad, I'm pretty sure. Not really well. I guess that's why he took to BBT so fast.
Guess that leaves me. It's hard to think of my dad as a bad person, even though I know that he is. He's still my dad, who took to me out to play footy in the park and took me on the train on the weekends. He's still my dad, even now when I want nothing more than to hate the bastard. I hate that he used to slap me when I got a bad grade, and that he stopped me pursuing what I loved. I was always on my most recent deed with him.
I'm protective of my dad's legacy. I don't want the good to be spoiled. I don't want anyone else to be my dad, to try and be better than him. I don't want my family involved with any more criminals.
After all of that, I'm not fit to be a parent. I probably never will be. This entry is exceptionally long, so I will end it here. It's been a rough day.
Danny lowered the book and checked the date on the entry. Just after his return to Ballarat. He tried to remember if he'd ever heard of Norm Davis. A long time ago, maybe. He'd certainly never thought Charlie was his son. Davis was a common enough last name; he knew two other Davis-es. He felt guilty for reading something so obviously private, but he still flips to the next entry entitled 'Both'
Things have been strange between myself and M.L lately, and I do not know how to un-strange them. I have considered M.L my friend for some time now, but I don't know that I've ever considered him to be more than that.
Which isn't to say that I haven't wanted more from him, as repulsive as that might sound.
Is it possible to be attracted to men as well as women? I've never considered myself to be queer before, and I've arrested my fair share of people who are. I know I like women, I mean, I certainly enjoyed my time with Rose and I've had girlfriends before. I was even engaged once. Hell, we even had a date picked out.
I don't know why I feel compelled to remind myself that I think women are attractive, I know that I do. I always have.
But men too? Can you do that? I've always assumed that you were exclusively involved with women, or exclusively involved with men and the ones who had wives or husbands were just hiding something. Since moving to Ballarat I've had much cause to reconsider my previous assumption. Especially since meeting M.L
I write this in my journal with the knowledge that no one else will ever see it, and I find that comforting. I would never, ever say anything about this to his face. But I do believe I would like to be involved with M.L. I like spending time with him, and I like working with him. I enjoy learning about his life and his past and he seems to like learning about mine. More than that, I think he's funny and just being around him is comforting. He understands things the Doc never could. That's not an insult, it's just a statement.
I suppose there is an element of sexual attraction to it, hence my long preface. I'd be a liar is I proclaimed to have never thought about his hands or his lips. I've probably fallen asleep thinking about kissing him more than I ever did as a hormone driven teenager.
All of this is rather pathetic. I am rather pathetic.
Of course, I can never act on any of this. Not that I would ever try. As much as I am drawn to M.L, I love being his friend more and I would never ever do anything to compromise that. Things have been weird between us. I feel like he's trying to avoid me one minute, and things are fine the next, and then he's inviting me in for a nightcap. It's weird.
I hope he knows that I would never act on these feelings.
Danny put the book down. He's found out what he was looking for, but that was only Charlie's half of it. He wants to know Matthew's half, and he's pretty certain that Matthew doesn't keep a journal. The rational part of him says to put the journal down. The irrational part wants to keep reading. Charlie Davis is a distant figure who doesn't seem to have much to say about himself. To learn about him is fascinating. He flips to an entry entitled 'The Best ANZAC Biscuits in the world'
Ingredients: Plain flour, one cup. Rolled oats, one cup. Coconut, one cup. Sugar, ¾ a cup. Butter, 125 grams. Golden syrup, 2 tablespoons. Bicarb soda, 1 teaspoon. Water, 2 tablespoons. Cinnamon, 1 tablespoon.
Preheat the oven and lay baking paper on the trays. Sift the flour into a bowl and add the dry ingredients. Melt butter syrup and water in a saucepan and then add the bicarb soda. Pour into flour and combine.
Lay out on tray in balls, use fork to flatten. Cook for ten minutes.
Well that was exactly what Rose told him he'd find in here. Must have been what he'd seen Charlie making a while back. Jean's recipe, then. The flipped on. The next entry is titled 'The Grief Button'
Lucien explained grief to me like this.
Your brain is a box with a button in it. To begin, the ball is so big that it presses the button constantly. As time passes, the ball gets smaller, and it presses the button less often. The button causes pain when pressed.
I think that this is a pretty good description of what grief feels like.
I've been feeling a lot of grief about Ned lately. It's difficult for me to comprehend that he's been dead for a whole year. It feels like only a couple of weeks. It's hard to believe that I've been gone from Ballarat almost a year, too. Some things are different, but most of them are the same.
Danny and Rose are still together. She seems so happy with him. I didn't even know that she was sad before. I don't miss being in a relationship (maybe?) with her, I don't miss being mad or upset about the things that she'd do. I certainly don't miss being casual. But I do miss having someone to talk to. M.L is nice but there's a lot of things I can't talk to him, or to anyone else about for that matter. But the past is the past, and being sad over something said and done won't help me.
Lucien and Jean are still together, no surprises there. They seem so happy these days. I don't think Jean misses her Church as much as she thought that she would. There have even been discussions of starting a family together. Jean asked me to be the godfather of any child they might have. I declined. Lucien asked me the same thing. I said no to him as well.
Alice and M.L split up. No surprises there, either. I don't know why, I haven't asked. M.L has never spoken badly of her, so I suppose it was good while it lasted.
Ned is still dead, that is the same. I keep thinking about how much I just didn't know about him. I was so consumed with Lucien and M.L that I never bothered to find out much about him. Or his girlfriend. He seemed like a sweet kid. But I didn't have time for sweet kids. I barely had time for the people I already knew. I was too busy getting sucked into my black hole of a relationship with Rose to make time for much else.
I should have. He was my co-worker. My mate. I keep running through a million things I could have should have done. It's hard to turn it off. I feel like I'm losing my mind. The worst bit is that I thought I was okay. I thought I wasn't too shaken. Turns out I was, and coming back has just woken up everything I buried.
I asked M.L to change my desk so I'm not so close to the spot he died. It was nice of Harris to swap with me. So far I've managed to avoid having to do the night shift alone, M.L has agreed to stay on with me, but I wonder how long until I'm meant to go back to doing it alone. When is he going to get tired of babysitting me?
I had to excuse myself from a schedule meeting today to go into the filing room and calm myself down. I though my heart was going to burst out of my chest and I couldn't breathe properly. M.L came and found me. He told me that he'd stay on with me, and that it would be fine. He also made me to determined to sort all this out. So I'm going to write it down.
Also, he kissed me on the forehead. I don't know what to make of that. For now, but, I might just keep that memory to myself.
Danny lowered the book again and looked around Charlie's barren room. If he hadn't seen by accident then he wouldn't have known or even considered Charlie might be struck down by something do incredibly human as grief. Charlie had always seemed to float above even the baser human emotion. He was quiet and a rock to anyone who needed him to be. The idea of him being so…Vulnerable is difficult to picture and even more difficult to believe.
He flipped another few pages forward, acutely aware that time was ticking.
´First Timers Club'
I went out last month. I went to a bar, used a fake name and slept with another man.
Then a week or so later, I did the same thing.
This week was the fourth time I've done it.
It's not the same as sleeping with a woman. Good different. I just wish it was less stressful.
Not as interesting as the other entries. He skipped a few short ones that seemed to be detailing sexual exploits. He didn't want to read that.
He turned to the next entry.
'Ned'
I thought things were getting better.
I keep having a dream of finding people at the station. It's mostly Matthew. I find him lying on the floor, eyes blank and soulless. He's still warm to the touch when I look for a pulse that isn't there. I put my head on his chest, and inside I keep thinking that he's fine, he's okay. He's not. Then I can't breathe, it feels like I should be able to breathe, and logically, I know I am breathing but no matter how much I breathe, no air gets into my chest.
Then I wake up, gasping.
I can't keep on like this. I thought that the sex would take my mind off things. I think it's only made it worse.
Danny, desperate for more, flicked the page.
'Scars'
When I was in Melbourne, I got scraped up pretty bad. I'll spare you the details, but I ended up bringing fists to a knife fight. I got slashed right in the rib cage, I'm probably pretty lucky I didn't get it worse. Which isn't to say that it wasn't a bitch and a half, of course. Doesn't really help that trying to dodge the knife I nearly dislocated my knee.
I'd been hoping to hide it but Lucien cornered me at the wedding and demanded to know why I was limping. Then he insisted on making sure I was okay and upping my pain medication. Which was nice of him. I've always admired that about the doctor, his insatiable need to help people. And cursed it at times, when I'm trying to keep something from him, but mostly admired.
I try to avoid looking at it. It's just a reminder of failure in my opinion. I also try to avoid letting anyone else see it.
Today, I let M.L see it. In return, he let me see the great big scar on his leg. When I touched it, it felt sort of bumpy and kind of warm. I didn't touch him very long because I am very aware that I have cold hands.
Then I let M.L me. His hands were so warm and slightly rough. It was intimate.
After he was done looking at me we spent a really long time just looking at each other. Then he reached up and put a hand on my cheek. We had a conversation that went a little like this.
M.L – Has anyone ever told you that you look like a movie star?
Me – No.
M.L – They should.
Me – Thank you?
M.L – Don't mention it.
Me – I'm sorry. About your leg. I don't think I ever said that.
M.L – You don't have to be sorry. It had nothing to do with you. If there was something to be sorry about, it's forgiven.
Then we just kept sitting. I really wanted to kiss him, but I, with enormous effort, restrained myself. We just sat there for a long moment, then he took his hand away, and went to find Lucien. He came into the room to hide from doing his exercises. I don't blame him, they look painful. Except that I'm not quite brave enough to take on Lucien in his own house.
I wonder if this is peak strange? I hope things go back to normal soon.
Maybe when things are normal again, I can ask him about these dreams I keep having.
Danny lowered the book when he heard footsteps outside the door, they passed by and went into the bathroom. In an effort to conserve time, he glossed over some entries before arriving on 'To Hell and Back'
Something happened today.
I came across M.L sitting alone in his dark bedroom. What I actually wanted to do was talk to him about Ned. I asked if I may enter. I was given permission. I sat by him on the bed. He asked me about the scar on my chest, and I told him what happened. I won't repeat it here. He asked me if I knew how close I came to dying. I said I did. He told me that he was glad I hadn't. I said so I was I.
Then he did something very strange indeed. He took hold of the hand that I had been resting on my leg, and told me that I was very important to him. I told him that he was very important to me. His hands were very warm on mine, and a little callused. I think we were both too scared to take it any further than that, lest we frighten the other away.
Eventually, it was me that broke the silence. I worked up the nerve to ask him if he knew how I felt abut him and he confirmed that he has known for some time and I am very very bad at hiding how I feel. I ventured to ask him what he was going to do with the information. He said that he was going to kiss me.
And he did.
I think that my brain stalled when he did, because I was convinced that I was having some kind of dream. I wasn't, at least, I think I wasn't. I'm mostly sure I'm awake.
I kissed back and firmly as I dared.
Then we pulled apart. He was looking at me, and I was looking at him. It was like the whole rest of the world didn't matter anymore. It was just me, and him. He reached up and put one of his hands on my face and kissed me again.
I asked him what we do now.
He told me that it didn't matter.
And we kissed for a third time.
"Are you reading my diary?" Danny, at some point, had begun reclining on Charlie's bed and he drops he journal on his face. Bolting up, he saw Charlie, arms folded, looking at him, and Matthew just over his left shoulder scowling exactly the sort of scowl one would expect him to have.
"Uh."
Charlie leant over and took the book from him.
"Gonna explain yourself?"
"I…Wanted to know more about you."
"And instead of…Uh, asking me, you read my private diary."
"Well, when you put it like that-"
"Get out of here before I let Matthew break all of your teeth." He said, "Oh, and everything you just read and this book? They don't exisit. If you tell anyone, you will not exsist. Capiche?"
Danny doesn't know what capiche means, but he nods and makes his escape as fast as he can.