/Oh boy another chapter fic! 4 chapter this time, and I'll put up a warning for each chapter individually. This one focuses on scraped knees, how exciting! Little bit of blood, little bit of sadness, but don't worry too much! We've still got three more chapters to ramp up the misery factor for poor old Charlie. As per always, leave a review if you liked it ( Or not ;-) ) and feel free to contact me with any comments questions or concerns!
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It's not the first time he's had scraped knees. Tackling people to the ground on a semi regular basis has it's side effects on his body, and one of them is having semi permanently scraped knees. It sometimes feels like he manages to stop picking at one lot of scabs long enough for them to heal, only to have new ones again in a months time. It's annoying, but sadly, something he'd gotten pretty used to over the last few years. Being a clumsy child made him all the more susceptible to the scrapes of childhood. From grazed knees to paper cuts, he'd felt them all.
His usual treatment for such an injury would be to treat it with rubbing alcohol and a plaster. He's never needed anything else to treat them, after all, his work pants did offer him some limited protection from the gravel. He never thought he'd be grateful for police pants. (He's still not sure he is, they're too tight to really run well, and it's incredibly difficult for him to iron then correctly. ) But of course, the one time he scrapes his knees in front of the doctor, he was wearing shorts. He has no idea why he thought fate would be nice to him today when it's never given him a break before.
Going for a run, is more or less the height of his day. He's not sure if it's freeing, or if he just likes moving, but every morning, weather permitting, he likes to go for a run. He starts at the house, walking the length of the Doctor's driveway, stretching as he walked. Once he reached the end, he would run the length of the street. Then he would run back, and then again, as many times as he could without wearing himself out. He's fast, and he knows it. There's nothing that he likes more then running. (Except maybe hot chips, but that's another story)
Coming back down the driveway in the blueish light of the early morning, humming to himself happily, he's a little shocked to see the Doc sitting on the steps. He offers the doctor a wave as he jogs the last few steps. Before he can reach the steps, one of his feet catch on a particularly large rock in the driveway. He falls face down onto the gravel.
"Charlie!" It's more shock then anything else, he jumps to his feet, while Charlie lies winded in the gravel. He blinks slowly, and tries to get a handle on himself. After a moment, when he feels competent enough to stand, he notices Blake's hand being held out to him. He takes it begrudgingly, and lets Blake help him be pulled up onto his feet. "That looks painful." Blake said, as Charlie starts to look for his injuries. His knees were pretty shredded, his elbows matched, as did the palms of his hands.
"God dammit." He said, holding his hands out in front of him to prevent himself smearing blood on his clothes. "The last lot of scabs just cleared up." He sighed. Blake actually chuckles at him, and lets go of his other hand.
"I think you need a sticking plaster." Blake comments, leading Charlie back into the house by his wrist.
Jean was already in the hallway when Blake was turning the corner. She followed to look in on the bedraggled Sergeant and the Doctor. "Charlie, what's happened?" She asked, as Blake helped him up onto the table.
"I fell over on the driveway." He said, with a small sigh.
"You fell over?"
"Tripped over my own feet.' He muttered. Jean tutted, but left him in peace with the Doctor. Blake chuckles slightly to himself Charlie just rolled his eyes. "Thanks Doc." he grumbled, as Blake started to get out some medical supplies.
"It is funny." Blake replied, taking one of Charlie's arms into his hand, to look at his elbow.
"No it's not. It's painful."
"All comedy is derived from misery." Charlie just sighed softly. "Well there's certainly a lot of gravel." Blake said, "Not in too much pain are you?" Charlie offered him a very weak smile.
"No too much."
"Alright then." Blake said, as he started to pick pieces of gravel out of Charlie's arm. Charlie grunted softly in reply as Blake probed a particularly sore spot of broken skin.
"Why were you..." He pauses to hiss slightly. "On the poarch anyway?" Charlie asked, as an attempt to distract himself from the current feeling of tweezers inside his arms.
"I was waiting for you." Blake replied, tapping his tweezers on a little metal bowl.
"Why? I go for." Pause. "A run every morning."
"I was just curious to hear where it is that you actually run too."
"Bloody liar."
"I am digging gravel out of your arms and you want to swear at me?"
"It's your bloody fault."
"Tsk." Blake replied, before wiping Charlie's arm with a cloth slathered in rubbing alcohol. The stinging brought a tear to his eye.
"Are you trying to kill me?" He grumbled, as Blake checked the cleared wound over for any traces of gravel.
"I'm trying to look after you. And it would be a lot easier if you would sit still!" Blake scolded, as Charlie shifted in his seat.
"Well if you weren't so rough, I wouldn't have to!" He said, as Blake wrapped his elbow in a piece of gauze. Blake just chortles sightly, and takes Charlie's other hand into his.
"Charlie, I'm sorry if I made you trip on the driveway."
"I'm joking, Doc." Charlie offered, softly.
"You make jokes?"
"I make." Pause. "Quite a few, but people are always shocked." Pause. "When I do." Blake shakes his head and smiles, tapping his tweezers on the metal bowl.
"What will I do with you?"
"Give me the next month rent free?" Blake actually does laugh this time.
"Done."
"I'm joking, you fool." Charlie said, as Blake prepared a second piece of gauze with antiseptic on it.
"Don't 'You fool' me." Blake replied, "I did want to speak with you about the rent, though."
"If you put it up then I won't be able to afford it." Charlie says, suddenly. Blake pauses slightly.
"I'm not putting it up, wasn't that something I promised you when you moved in?"
"People break promises. They don't mean anything."
"Very cynical, Charlie."
"I speak from experience." he states, hissing and doing his best to keep his arm from yanking away from the doctor. Blake offered him a slightly curious look, but didn't question it.
"What I wants to talk about, is that you do know that if you're late, or something, you don't have to worry.'
"What?"
"Mattie told me that last month, you didn't dryclean your blazer to make the rent."
"She promised she wouldn't."
"She's your friend, even if you don't think it. She wants what's best for you."
"Yeah. And what's best for me is that I continue having a bed to sleep in."
"You're my friend as well, Charlie. You don't have to worry if you're short, or a bit late. I offered you a room because I like you, not because I need money." Charlie swung himself up onto the bed so Blake could pick gravel out of his knees.
"Well I just like to be sure."
"Sure?"
"That I'll have somewhere to stay."
"Sounds like you have a story there."
"One I'm keeping well to myself, If you don't mind. " Blake put his hands up in a surrender gesture, and wiped some of the blood off of Charlie's knee.
"Might have to trash these socks." He said, as Charlie looked down at his socks, and gave a long sigh.
"Just want I needed." he sighed, softly. Blake's tweezers tapping the bowl was almost deafening in the otherwise silent room.
"Charlie if the rent is too high you don't have to-"
"The rent is fine." He shot, his face returning to it's schooled mask of indifference.
"Well then how come you're struggling"
"Why do you care, as long as you get the money?"
"Because Charlie I know it's hard to believe, but we are your friends, you know." Blake said, as he started dabbing at his knee with the cotton pad. 'And we care about you. And I care about the state of your blazer. So spill." Charlie watched him for a moment, before letting out a huge sigh.
"One of my brothers is sick. I have to help pay doctors bills. Not all of us are lodging in the home of a kindly doctor, after all."
"Now now Charlie, let's not get testy." Blake replied, as he started wrapping up his knee. "How sick is he?"
"It's...Pretty bad, I'm...Worried."
"Are you going to request a transfer?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"And leave you to deal with Munro on your own? I'd rather shoot myself in the foot."
"Thank you, Charlie." He said, after a moment, and started to carefully fix up Charlie's other knee. Hes not sure how to approach the subject again without hurting Charlie's admittedly bruised pride. Charlie offers him very little in way of help, so he eventually has to do it himself. "You know I'd never throw you out, don't you?"
"Do I?" Charlie challenged, softly.
"Well I invited you here."
"Under the impression that I could pay the rent."
"I was perfectly fine without you paying the rent, Charlie. We were okay before you were here."
"As people keep reminding me."
"Charlie..."
"Why do you care so much?" He asked, softly. "Why can't you just leave me be?"
"Because I'm your friend. Have you never had a friend before?" Blake asked, as he wrapped Charlie's knee tightly in gauze. Charlie just shrugged at him, and spun around to put his knees over the edge of the bed. Blake carefully put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know that, don't you?"
"And say what?"
"Whatever's on your mind." Charlie studied him for a moment, and when he tries to look away, Blake refuses to let him break eye contact.
"Why the Hell do you have to be so nice all the time?" He asked, "Why can't you be...Mean? Or angry, why are you always so happy and helpful? Why won't you just…." He puts his hands up in front of him, but he can't express what he's trying to say so they fall into his lap.
"Would you rather I wasn't?" Blake asked. And after a moment Charlie shook his head no.
"I just...Don't understand."
"Has it ever occurred to you that some people are just...Nice people?" Blake asked, decided to take the risk of sounding proud.
"It has, but...I can't trust a nice person. An asshole will always be an asshole, no matter what. But a nice person...I mean, what does nice even mean anyway?" He asked, picking at the side of his thumbnail. Blake tilted his head slightly, and then hopped up onto the table next to Charlie.
"I don't know." He said, after a moment. "But I'll tell you what I do know."
"And what's that?"
"I know that you're a good kid. You mean well and you always want to do the right thing."
"Okay."
"And I like to think I'm a good man."
"Are you?"
"No. Not really." For some reason, that makes Charlie laugh. Blake smiles at him.
"You have a nice laugh. Can't say I've ever heard it before."
"Well I only laugh if it's funny." Blake smiled at him.
"I'd like to hear it some more around here. Maybe you would if you weren't so worried about the rent." Charlie rolled his eyes and examined one of his knees carefully.
"What were you saying about being a good man?"
"Right, right. I'm a good man. And I want you to be able to trust me."
"Easier said then done."
"I know."
"And you don't trust me, either."
"No, not really." Blake put his hand on Charlie's leg. Charlie looked at it with a frown, but didn't move it away. Charlie looked at the doctor again, and then shifted his leg away. Blake put his hand back in his lap.
Despite his best attempts to include Charlie in their family, he always remained the outsider. If it had something to do with him being the land lord, or maybe his eccentricity, Blake didn't know. Charlie seemed like a fairly stable young man. Fairly clever. Fairly handsome. Just...Fair. Fair skin, fair eyes, that was the best way he had to describe him. And maybe it was fair of him to stay on the outside as well. They didn't trust one another. But Blake could feel the bridge between then building. They'd get there, he decided, as he helped Charlie off the table and back onto the floor. It would just take baby steps.
