A/N: Happy Saturday!
Charlie was drunk.
He was the kind of guy who enjoyed beer with his dinner and another when he watched TV. When he was out fishing with his friends, he drank enough to get a healthy buzz going. But Charlie didn't like being drunk.
Drunk Charlie was one morose bastard. When he got drunk, he tended to dwell on things that didn't matter, things he couldn't help. Drunk Charlie reopened the wounds that his wife had left when she breezed out the door, taking their one-year-old daughter with her. The memories still hurt, like unexpected shards of broken glass hiding in the carpet fibers, waiting to cut deep.
All these years later and Renee had been the only woman he ever loved. Add to that the time with his daughter, everything he missed… From the age of one to seventeen, he'd only seen Bella for two weeks a year. It had never been enough. It would never be enough. Those years were gone, and his baby had learned to walk, talk, ride a bike, and everything in between without him.
Charlie slammed the empty tumbler of whiskey down on the table with a little more force than he'd intended. He licked his lips. They were numb.
What was it about having so much alcohol in his system that made it possible for him to feel every day, every month, every year he'd spent alone here? He'd bought this house for his family, and his wife had hated it. Bella had hated it too; As soon as she was old enough she begged him to take her to California instead.
His house, and when he was this low, he often thought he'd die here one day alone.
The sound of a door opening upstairs broke through his clouded thoughts. Not so alone after all, he reminded himself. At least for now.
He listened for a moment and heard Alice's light step on the stairs. He sat up straight and coughed into his hand, trying to clear his head. When she appeared in the doorway he attempted a smile. From the way she cocked her head and stared at him, he didn't succeed.
Alice walked over to the kitchen cabinet. "How many have you had?"
"Uh, just the one," Charlie said, clearing his throat.
Alice looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
"Two. And a half," Charlie amended.
She took two tumblers down, filled them with ice, and put them in front of Charlie as she sat down across from him. "Well, sounds like my kind of party, and I have to catch up."
That had a sobering effect. Charlie raised his eyes to hers. She was staring back with a straight face devoid of any trace of mirth. She looked tired and much older than her…
"Oh, hell. It's your birthday," he said, realizing it was past midnight.
She smiled. It made her look even more tired. "And my anniversary."
He filled both of her tumblers and topped off his. She downed the first one without stopping and Charlie gaped.
"What?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I, uh… nothing."
She lifted the second tumbler and drank at a more reserved pace. When she set it down, half the drink was gone. She sat back, smacking her lips. Charlie sipped at his own drink and waited. It was a heavy silence but not uncomfortable.
Alice closed her eyes and let out her breath in a long, slow gust. "He would have already woken me up. Actually, he probably would have said happy birthday at nine because it was already midnight in New York. He would have kissed me senseless at nine on the dot."
She downed the last of her second glass and poured herself a third. "So what's your excuse?" she asked.
"It's… It's nothing. Nothing I should be complaining about in front of you."
Again, she arched a single eyebrow, her dull eyes fixed on him. "Don't do that. I haven't cornered the market on pain. My fucked up life doesn't negate yours. I don't care how insignificant it is; it's important because it affects you." She punctuates her mild tirade by taking a pull of whiskey. "Now tell."
He was just drunk enough to be honest. "A lot of people in this town think I'm another deadbeat dad who was relieved to get out of parenting. Otherwise I would have fought for Bella, right? Or gone after Renee?" He sipped his whiskey and let the burn eat away at the lump in his throat. "My parents were sick. Both of them. Dying sick. They needed a lot of care, and I'm an only child."
This time both of her eyebrows shot up. "Renee left you and took your baby while both of your parents were dying?"
"Yeah. She did at that."
Alice made a face as though she'd bitten into rancid meat. "What an asshole."
Charlie opened his mouth to defend Renee as he always did. After all these years, he understood why Renee left. It had been the right decision for her and most days, he couldn't begrudge her that. Most days.
Tonight he snapped his mouth shut and nodded. "Yeah," he said in agreement, and he took another drink.
Alice took another long drink and set it down. She tilted the glass back and forth between her palms and looked at the tabletop, her shoulders slumped. "When I woke up tonight, alone, I wanted him here with me so badly. Of course I did. But…"
"But," he prompted when she didn't continue.
With her eyes closed, she took a long drink, set it down, and breathed deeply, her mouth open, her lips shining from the alcohol. "Tonight, just for a second, instead of wishing it was him, I wished someone was there with me. I miss the touches. I want to be touched again. I want to wake up in someone's arms. and I know it can't be him. It can never be him, and I still want it." She covered her face with her hands. "It's terrible."
"It's hope," he said, only too familiar with that sense of longing.
"Hope feels terrible."
Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I get that too." He paused long enough to finish his third drink. "It's not, though. Terrible to hope. It's terrible that he didn't live, but it's not terrible that you did."
Her sigh was heavy. Charlie had no idea what to say. It didn't help that he'd gotten to that point where he could hear the beat of his heart between his ears. It made it hard to concentrate. This was far too deep a conversation to have when he'd drunk as much as he did.
Before he could say anything, Alice giggled. It was such an incongruous sound, Charlie looked up too quickly. He regretted it. He put his hand to his forehead, trying to stop the spinning. "What?" he asked at her continued mirth.
"I'm sorry. It's just the look on your face." She furrowed her brow and stuck out her lower lip in imitation of what Charlie thought looked more like a confused baboon.
He made an effort to suck in his lip. "I'm not making that face."
"You so are." She made the face again, worse this time.
"Oh, come on. I think you're exaggerating."
But Charlie couldn't be too perturbed. The tense atmosphere had broken, and good-humored drunkenness took over. They both slipped into lighter conversation with their typical ease. They sipped at their drinks, but the damage was done. Eventually, their conversation devolved into nonsensical ridiculousness.
"Charlie," Alice said between titters. "We are so very drunk."
"That's an astute observation if ever I heard one." He pushed to his feet and found himself much more unsteady than he had been even a half hour before. He slapped his palms down on the table, trying to gauge how well he could stand upright. "We should, uh…" He snapped his fingers. Simple words escaped him. "Lie down."
"Oh, yes. Lying down sounds fabulous." Alice got to her feet, or she tried to, anyway. She swayed in place. "Whoa."
Charlie was quick to move to her side, intent on keeping her upright. The problem with that plan was he was anything but steady. They ended up clinging to each other for dear life, their feet shuffling and hands gripping shirts and arms until they were relatively stable. They looked at each other and laughed.
"Come on," Charlie said, wrapping his arm around her waist. She put her arm around his torso, and they headed out of the kitchen, headed for the stairs.
When they reached the bottom, Charlie paused. As a cop, he was trained to be analytical. He looked up the stairs and considered how many times he'd stumbled in the short walk from the kitchen. He glanced at Alice who looked back at him, shaking her head and grinning. "You know, we're all going to die someday, but I'd prefer not to be in the running for a Darwin Award."
"Couch?" he asked.
"Couch."
It didn't occur to Charlie to let her go as they stumbled to the living room. The fact they were still connected didn't strike him as problematic until he'd sat, pulling her down beside him. He blinked, befuddled as to what he was supposed to do next. Technically Alice would fit better on the loveseat, but it seemed like a rude thing to suggest.
Before he could work out his next move, Alice splayed her hands on his chest and pushed gently. It was the most natural thing in the world to lay back, bring her horizontal with him. Her weight was solid and warm-nice. They shifted until they found a comfortable position. Charlie pressed his back against the couch and Alice tucked herself tight against his side, facing him. There wasn't an inch of breathing room between them.
The dizzy spin of his head wasn't nearly as bad when his eyes were focused on her pretty face.
Alice sighed. "Tomorrow...today is going to suck."
He rubbed her back. "I know."
She raised her hand and traced the shape of his moustache, smoothing it out. The act brought her small smile back. "Tonight didn't suck as much as it should have." She brushed his cheek with her lips. "Thanks, Charlie."
He huffed. "Thank Mr. Jameson. Every once in a while, he makes things a little easier," he murmured.
She hummed. Her eyelashes fluttered. "Thanks, Mr. Jameson." Her words ran together. Sleep was taking her quickly.
Sure enough, only a few moments later her eyes closed and her breath evened out. He was tired too. Beyond tired. Drunken tired. His eyelids were made of ten pound weights, but he struggled to keep them open just a few minutes longer.
This was nice. This wasn't the way these kinds of nights ended for him. He raised a tentative hand. His fingers hovered over her skin.
He couldn't ignore that this was more than just nice. It had to be his imagination, but he would swear his cheek tingled where she'd kissed him. He liked the way her body fit against him. He liked that she seemed peaceful and content in his arms. He liked it much more than he should.
He cupped her cheek with the lightest of touches. She responded in an instant, even in her sleep. She tilted her head, a soft whimper on her lips. He drew his fingers down and dropped his hand, resting it lightly on her side.
What was happening here?
Tonight was simple enough to explain. His loneliness was always amplified when he drank. She'd said she missed being touched. That was all there was to it.
He let his eyes close.
~0~
Alice's birthday was never going to be a good day.
It had taken a bit of convincing on Esme's part to get Alice to agree to a get together at all. Personally, Charlie was on Alice's side. Maybe it was a little selfish. When she attempted to shoot down her mother's plan, Esme was clearly hurt. Alice's family and friends wanted to celebrate her. To say no would disappoint the people who loved her.
In Charlie's estimation, birthdays should have been the one day a year it was okay to be unequivocally selfish, but Alice acquiesced.
She spent the late morning and early afternoon at the cemetery, alone by request. Later that afternoon everyone gathered at the Cullen house. All Alice's foster-family was there along with Rosalie, Emmett's fiance, Bella, and Charlie.
It was one of those quietly miserable affairs where everyone smiled pretty and pretended they were having a good time. No one was trying as hard as Alice. She was trying so hard to be the bubbly, bright person her family missed.
Maybe it was chance, but Charlie always caught it when she ducked out of sight into a quiet room. He saw the way she slumped against the wall as though standing upright was too much. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, steeling herself before she went out to face her family again.
He was tired just watching her.
When day edged into night, Charlie offered up an out. "I think I'm calling it a night."
Alice jumped to pick up the line he threw out. "You know, I've had a little too much to drink. I have work tomorrow. I think I'll ride back with Charlie." She looked at him. "If that's okay."
There was a general cry of displeasure, but the family seemed to recognize Alice needed a break. They helped her take her gifts to Charlie's truck. She was hugged and kissed and reminded she was loved.
"You know you can stay, don't you?" Charlie heard Carlisle ask.
"We'd love to have you back home," Esme said.
Alice hugged them both tightly. "I know. I can't. Not yet."
She was quiet on the drive home. Charlie was somewhat surprised when, instead of heading up to her room as he expected, she sat in the living room.
Charlie poured them both a drink-just enough to take the edge off. He didn't want to start a bad habit. He walked back to the living room, sitting across from her on the loveseat. She huffed when he handed her the drink.
"Thank you, Mr. Jameson," she said and she tossed the whole thing back. She rested her head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, quiet for another handful of minutes before she finally found her voice again. "Charlie?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not overstaying my welcome, am I?"
"What?"
"I've been here for months." Her voice shook the slightest bit. "It's not right."
"It's not wrong. You're fine, Alice."
She gave a short laugh. "I'm not. I'm trying, but I'm not." She didn't sound upset, just tired.
Charlie stared down at his drink. "It's supposed to get better."
"It is. Sometimes it's so much better." Her lower lip trembled, and she closed her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wasn't crying. Not really. "Sometimes that's even worse.
"You're right. I know you're right. It does get better. And that's half the problem. It gets better, and that makes it so much worse. My mother died, but that got better. My dad and my stepmother… they were good to me for a while. Then they weren't, but that got better. They gave me Cynthia. I have a baby sister named Cynthia. Did you know that? God, I loved her. She was such a sweet baby, and she loved me. Then I remembered what my father did, and it got bad again, and Cynthia wasn't allowed to love me.
"But then the Cullens took me. And then there was Jasper." Her voice broke and another tear fell down her cheek. "It got better than better. It got so, so good." She raised her head to look at him. "So what happens if it does get better again?" Her breath hitched. "I don't want to know what I lose next time."
Charlie moved to sit beside her on the couch. He didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. He only lifted his arm, and Alice scooted under it. She laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm tight around her, and they sat in silence until her breaths evened out again.
She sniffled and picked up the hand he'd rested on his lap. She played with his fingers as she spoke again. "It's hard, you know, and it's all the stupid things. Like today. I mean, I know they were trying to be discreet, but they're young and in love."
"Who's that?"
"Edward and Bella. They tried to keep it on the D.L. but I saw them sneak away to make out." She looked up at him with a grimace. "Sorry, Charlie."
Charlie chuffed. "My daughter is staying with your brother instead of here at her home. I'm a cop, not an idiot. I know what that means."
She smiled and laid her head back on his chest. For a few more minutes there was only the feel of her soft fingers bending and flexing his. Then she stroked along his pointer finger. Slowly, her hand moved down until they were palm to palm. Slowly, she twined their fingers together.
Charlie was a steady kind of man. He believed in ration and order. He believed in fact and truth.
The fact was he wanted nothing more than to tell this wounded woman that she'd reached her quota of suffering and the rest of her life was coming up roses. The truth was anything could still happen to her. She could, she likely would, find new ways to hurt.
Alice's hand went slack in his and her breath felt hot and even against his neck. It was the second night in a row-dangerously close to habit.
There was another fact. Alice stirred something in him he didn't want to explain. It wasn't rational or orderly, but it was there. That was the truth. For as little good as it would do either of them, it existed.
He lingered as long as he could without thinking, then he got carefully to his feet, lifting her with him. She stirred with a gasp, and her arms went around his neck. "Don't wake up," he whispered. "I got you."
She blinked at him in the dim light and closed her eyes again, trusting he would take care of her.
A/N: Many thanks to baburella and my lovely jessypt.
And you guys. You guys make me happy.