Charlie-a few minutes later
"Sir," I say nervously.
"Charlie," he says critically sizing me up.
"I didn't want to come," I stammer feeling like it's my first day of boot camp. Damn, I hope I'm not acting like a soldier.
And suddenly General Carter turns into Jacob. Jacob, my friend. Jacob the closest thing to family I've had in a long time.
"We wouldn't want you to be homeless, son," Jacob says honestly.
"Don't be calling him son quite yet," a cynical boy a few years younger than Sam says.
Mark sounds just like his dad. "Mark," I say with a smile.
"How did you know my name?" he asks.
"Sam mentioned it."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't," she says.
"Visions," Mrs. Carter offers with a shrug.
"You get them confused with everyday life?" Sam asks sounding concerned.
"Well, I bet you don't always remember where you heard something," I offer with a shrug.
"How long have you been living by yourself?" Mrs. Carter asks kindly.
"'Coupla days. And I got a place. I just can't move in for a couple of weeks."
"Sorry that the best we have to offer you is a couch," Jacob says.
"It's fine, Sir," I say. I can tell my military carry is setting off bells and whistles in his head. Which is ridiculous, because Jacob is a lot more than just an officer to me. I shouldn't be going back into cadet mode.
"Better than a park bench," Sam says setting down the bags she INSISTED on carrying. Seriously? Did she realize how emasculating that is? But if I didn't let her do it would be just as emasculating to her. I mean, that probably isn't the right word, but I don't know of a better one. And it is actually really hard to carry bags when you are on crutches.
"I really was fine, last night wasn't the worse night's sleep I've ever had," I say before I think.
Then Mrs. Carter is hugging me, and I remember….to them I'm a kid.
Sam-later that night
"Charlie! Noooo!" The scream makes me sit bolt upright. I'm halfway down the hallway by the time it occurs to me how weird this is. Why is a homeless teenager screaming his own name?
"Charlie!" I exclaim as I stand on the edge of the living room. My feet carefully still in the hallway carpet. All the way down the hallway it didn't occur to me what was happening, but now that I am almost here I realize that I am running toward a boy in the middle of the night.
Charlie sits bolt upright. He scrubs his face with his hands. "Carter?"
"Yeah, you ok?" I ask walking into the room, and sitting down across from him. I was stupid to be afraid of him. He's a kid, just like me.
"Yeah, fine. Sorry if I woke you," he says looking embarrassed.
"It's ok, bad dream?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says with a sad laugh.
"Charlie, you named after anyone?" I ask.
He squints at me, "No, why?"
"In your dream…."
"Geez, I was screaming his name?" he asks.
I nod my head, pulling my legs up under me. It's pretty cold, and I know this discussion is going to be longer than I first thought. "Your dad?" I ask.
"Dad? No. Son," he says tossing me one of the blankets which I gratefully put over my legs.
I'm about to laugh, but he is shockingly serious about it. "Visions?" I ask.
"He dies, Carter," he mutters.
"What?" I say in a shaky voice rather shocked.
"I'm going to try to save him of course, but that doesn't change the fact that I remember it," he taps his forehead, "in all of its gorey detail."
"You remember Mom's death?" I ask.
He nods.
"You…know whenever someone dies?" I ask wondering how many shocking memories he has in his head. Fake or not, it's got to be awful, and I'm becoming less and less sure that it really is fake.
"Not everyone, just people that would someday become important to me," he mutters.
I pause, wondering if I should ask the question that is on the tip of my tongue. "Charlie's mother?"
"I won't be with Charlie's mother this time around," he mutters, and there is a bit of bitterness in his tone.
"Because?" I prompt.
"Because she left me when I needed someone most. And I don't like being alone."
But he seemed to be pretty much alone as of a few days ago.
"Won't that make Charlie never exist?" I ask gently.
"No," he says, with certainly. I'll leave it at that. I don't even know if I believe in his visions. I certainly don't know how they work if they are real.
"I'm not the one who left, am I?" I ask with fear in my voice.
He looks at me for a long time, "Naw, Carter, you ain't the leaving kind." Then he thinks for awhile, "Well, maybe you are, but when you leave a guy, it's always someone who deserved it for a VERY long time."
"I date a lot of guys?" I ask him.
He smiles, "A few. Mostly stalkers, the occasional alien."
I toss a pillow at him.
"Oh, if only I was joking, Samantha," he says.
"Who do I end up with?" I ask him locking his eyes.
"I don't know everything, Carter," he says.
"What the hell is going on?" Dad says bursting into the room and flicking the light on.
"He had a nightmare dad," I say dismissively.
"That is not a reason that you two should be sitting in the dark at one am!" he shouts.
"Sir, I assure you nothing is going on. She just came to comfort me, because I was screaming in my sleep. I'm sorry, Sir, I'll try not to do that again," Charlie says with some shame in his voice.
"Hey, stop apologizing, we did nothing! Dad there is a whole room separating us!" I protest. Charlie sounds like one of my dad's scared recruits.
"It's after midnight," Dad says.
"Sir, I think I can fix this," Charlie says standing up.
"I doubt it," Dad grumbles.
"Sir I promise not to sleep with your daughter, at least until she's an adult."
Dad and I both turn to him with our mouths hanging open.
"That's at the root of your objection right?" he asks.
Dad recovers a bit, "How about you promise not to sleep with my daughter EVER!"
"Forever is an awful long time. I don't feel like I can make a promise that long, and be sure I'll keep it. I can be sure I'm not going to sleep with Sam until she's grown up. I don't intend to sleep with anyone until I'm grown up."
Dad narrows his eyes at Charlie, "Twenty-five and married," he growls.
"Eighteen and married," Charlie counters.
Dad considers for a long moment, before extending his hand.
"How many goats am I worth?" I ask.
Charlie turns to me, "Doesn't mean we're actually going to marry, or even date. Just that we certainly won't be having sex until we are married. Whether we are ever together is totally up to you," he says. But when he looks at me, I realize. He loves me. And he knows me a hell of a lot better than I know him. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.
It's either romantic, or creepy, or both.
"It's a school night," Dad says, and then he walks out of the room. He leaves us alone in the living room in the middle of the night. What the hell is going on? Dad never trusts anyone, and Charles has him wrapped around his finger!
"What is your last name?" I ask before I can stop myself.
"Neil."
Samantha Neil. It pops into my head without trying.
He grins, "I know what you're thinking."
"You read minds do you, psychic?" I ask a little nervously.
"Nope, but Cassie gave me a pretty good insight into the female mind. And the way the female mind likes to try words together," he says with a grin that convinces me he actually does know what I was thinking.
"Cassie is Charlie's mom?" I ask.
He laughs, "No, she's a little girl you're going to seriously consider adopting someday."
"Why don't I?"
"I don't know, you might this time. Things are different now that I saved your mother," he pauses again, "Then again, I intend to change things enough that Cassie isn't going to need adopting.
I bite my lip, "Mom really would have died?" I ask, and I feel like I am starting to believe.
"It's a school night, Carter, for you at least," Charlie says lying down on the couch, and closing his eyes.
"Goodnight Charlie," I say getting up, slowly, and reluctantly. I drape the blanket he threw me over him, and shut off the light.
"You do know Carter, that you are one of this nations national resources, right?" he says.
I go to bed feeling all warm inside. Charlie Neil is strange, but sweet.
