watch?v=gVAnlke_xUY

Song: Into The Mystic, Van Morrison

July, 1993

"Fuck you, Renee!" Charlie seethed with the rage of betrayal and disgust for his ex-wife. "You're a selfish fucking woman, you know that? Quil is dead. I'm asking for a few extra weeks with Bella so that she can go to her uncle's funeral. As usual, all you care about is yourself!"

Slamming the phone down on the hook, he hoped to God that guilt ate at Renee for the rest of her life. Things had been so strained between them ever since the divorce that he wondered how it was that they had even been married at all.

Charlie grabbed a beer out of the fridge then leaned against the door, resting his head on the hard, cool surface. Slumping to the floor, overwhelmed and unable to hold his emotions back, tears of sorrow and anger combined with the strain of work slid mercilessly from his tired eyes.

It felt like life had turned against him in the last few years. First losing his wife and daughter, then his father's death, his mother's broken mind. Quil. In two days time he would bury one of his best friends. It felt like more than he could handle. More than any one person should have to. Silently he cursed God, desperately wondering why his walk through life was so fraught with sorrow.

Never in all his years had Charlie Swan felt so alone. Harry and Billy had their families, women to lean on and love. He had nothing and no one except for a job and an empty house.

Sighing heavily, he realized he'd have to dig out his suit. "Fucking stupid. Quil never wore a suit," he muttered, not sure what he was more pissed off at. His buddy for dying or his wife for leaving him.

"Fuck it." Charlie got to his feet, grabbed his keys and drove down to the local tavern, passing the rest of the night in a drunken stupor, hoping to forget his troubles, if just for a little while.

Waking the next morning to the wailing of the telephone, his head pounded brutally with all the force of a jackhammer. "Shit." He rolled over in bed, the light streaming through the open window burning his eyes. Blindly he reached for the phone, knocking the cradle to the floor in the process. The sound of the crash shooting pain resembling a sharpened dagger straight through the temple. Wincing, he clutched the receiver, holding it an inch away from his ear. "Shit! Shit! Hello?"

"Well, that's a fine way to answer the phone, Charlie," snapped Renee. "I hope you don't talk like that around our daughter."

Groaning and swiping a hand over his face, Charlie wished he could just hang up and yank the cord out of the wall. Instead he settled for internally cursing her out and biting out a response laced heavily with venom. "What do you want? I have things to do today. In case you've forgotten, our friend died. Not that you care about anyone but yourself," he accused. Charlie's mouth felt dryer than the desert, his head hurt and he wasn't up for putting up with his ex-wife's crap this morning.

"I haven't forgotten anything, Charlie. I called because I changed my mind. I have to go out of town, so I'm putting Bella on a plane today. She'll be there at four." Renee dropped the bomb as airily as if announcing she was going out for high tea at the palace of the queen.

Her words sunk in and once again, he was pissed off. "You mean to tell me you're putting our little girl on a plane by herself? Renee, she's only five. What the hell are you thinking?"

"Don't be so dramatic. The airline has promised me she'll be fine. Just be there to pick her up."

The line disconnected into blessed silence. "Bitch," he muttered. Shitty as he was feeling, worried as he may be, Charlie couldn't help but smile. Bella was coming home. His little girl would be wrapped up in his arms before the sun set.

"Is she comin', Chawlie?" Jacob bounced up and down, his chubby little paw clasped firmly in Charlie's hand, watching all the passengers depart the plane.

"Not yet, buddy. They're letting all the other people off first," he explained, glad he'd thought to pick up Jake before heading off to the airport. The little guy was having a ball watching the airplanes take off and land through the giant windows while they waited for Bella. Jacob's cheerful presence was a blessed reprieve from thinking about the impending funeral tomorrow. It was also the least he could do. Sarah had her hands full with the twins and trying to help Joy organize the services.

"That's not fair. Grown-ups get to do everything," pouted Jake, antsy to see his friend. Charlie couldn't help but smile. He remembered feeling the same way when he was a boy.

"Be patient, it'll just be a few more minutes and then I'll take you two out for some ice cream," promised Charlie. In truth, he was just as anxious to see Bella as Jake was. I could kill Renee for putting her on a plane by herself, he thought.

"Can Quil come too? Momma says he's sad. Ice cream makes me feel better when I'm sad."

Charlie's heart wrenched with the raw devastation of pain and loss. "Of course he can. We'll stop and pick him up on the way." Impulsively snatching Jake into a hug, he held the little guy tight, letting him know just how loved he really was.

"Charwlie!" Jacob squirmed, his little body wriggling, trying to get out of his grasp. "Chawlie! Wook!"

Spinning around, he saw his five year old daughter, shy and uncertain walking hand in hand with a flight attendant out of the jetway.

The second Jacob's feet hit the floor he streaked over to Bella, throwing his small body on her, nearly knocking them both over with the force of it.

Righting herself, Bella looked over Jacob's shoulder and giggled at Charlie. "Daddy!" she cried. "Daddy!"

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Charlie couldn't believe how much his baby girl had changed in a year. The roundness of infancy was gone. She looked more like a little lady than a little girl. Charlie itched to hold her, to never let her go.

Scooping both kids in his arms, for the first time in a year, all was right in Charlie's world once more. Bella was home.

The funeral was a somber affair. Nobody could find much to be cheerful about. Quil's life had been cut short way too soon. Charlie struggled to find the words when he stood before the small band of mourners to give the eulogy, unwilling and unable to look at Joy or Quil Jr. for fear he'd come apart at the seams. He was hanging on by a thread these days. It wouldn't take much to tip the scales in favor of a fine white coat.

In the end, he shared a few funny stories, memories of his friend and their escapades, trying to do what Quil would have wanted. Trying to laugh.

"Quil Ateara was my best friend," he stated. "I guess I don't quite know what to say to all of you. I never thought I would have to sum up his life before he was done living it. That's the real problem. He just wasn't done yet. But, I know that wherever he is now, the fishing is good, the cars are fast and he's making the angels laugh."

Charlie stayed behind after everyone else departed, unable, unready to leave just yet. Billy and Sarah had taken the kids back with them to the bbq in Quil's honor. Charlie would join them later. He had to go into the station for a bit and quite frankly, he needed a little time alone.

The minutes ticked by while the warm afternoon sun rose higher in the sky. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the simple wooden coffin that held the earthly remains of his friend. It was all that Charlie had left of him, his heart not yet ready to say a final goodbye.

Not far away, men waited to lower Quil into the ground, talking and laughing to pass the time. Death was a common occurrence to them. Just another job to do, one more strip of sod to lay. Feeling a little foolish, Charlie pulled a letter from his pocket and tucked it in with the flowers that lay on top of the casket. Flowers that Quil would have poked sly fun of in life. 'What's the point? Why do you need flowers when you're dead?' he'd say. 'When my time comes, just toss me in the ground. I'll be pushin' up daisies soon enough.'

Drawing a deep breath and pulling from the last remaining strength he had left, Charlie closed his eyes, not ready, but knowing it was time to say goodbye. Resting his hands one final time on the smooth grain of the coffin, he whispered his parting words.

"So long, old friend. I'll watch over Quil now," he promised. "Joy too. We all will." Knocking twice on the wood, Charlie sighed heavily and departed, regretfully leaving behind one more person beneath the rich green grass of mother earth.

That afternoon, Charlie watched the kids racing through the yard of the Black house. It seemed like only yesterday that they had all been kids themselves. His mind kept floating backwards to a simpler time, when the only worry he had was what kind of ice cream to buy at the soda shop or when the next serial came out in the movie theater.

Life was different now. He was different now.

Of all the loss Charlie had suffered in the last few years, contemplating a world without Quil in it stung more deeply than all of them combined. Quil Ateara had been an enigma. Larger than life, unfettered by adversity or circumstance, his soul had been a shining beacon more brilliant than the sun. Already their lives were a little less bright without him in it. He knew that not a day would go by when he didn't think of his old friend or feel his loss keenly.

"Quil would have loved this."

Billy settled in beside him, handing him a beer and gesturing to the crowd. "All these people, one big party. Been a while since we had one," he observed.

"Too long," agreed Charlie. "He always loved this kind of thing."

"What's on your mind? You've been quiet all afternoon. Something with Renee again?" Billy frowned, sure that woman was behind Charlie's sullen spell.

"Nope. She didn't even bother to answer the phone when I called her to tell her Bella got here safe." In between the heartache and memories, Charlie was starting to wonder what kind of flighty woman he had married.

"So, what's eating you, Charlie. You've been chewin' on that lip all afternoon. I know it's more than Quil dying. Something happen at work?"

Charlie took a long pull on his beer and then blew out one long breath. "I had a meeting with Chief Johnson today after the funeral."

Worry creased Billy's brow. "You lose your job?"

"No, No. Nothing like that," Charlie assured him. "He's retiring next year and wants me to replace him."

"Charlie, that's great!" Billy all but flew out of his seat at Charlie's good fortune. "That's huge news! We oughta celebrate!"

Gazing out in the yard, Charlie watched the kids zigzagging across the lawn in a game of tag. "Yeah, it's just that..."

"Just that what Charlie?" Billy followed his eyes to Bella.

"Oh I get it. You're worried about being tied here. You weren't planning on moving to be closer to Bella, were you?" he questioned.

Charlie sighed, thinking over what Chief Johnson had said to him earlier. This place is like Mayberry. Once you're the Sheriff, you're gonna be the Sheriff for the rest of your damn life. Make sure you want the job. If you don't, no hard feelings, I'll understand.

Billy frowned, then started in, determined to give his buddy some sound advice. A good ass-kicking too if need be. "Look, Charlie. Here's the thing. Renee is unsteady. Now, don't go gettin' defensive, I know you still love her, but it's the truth. She's a flighty woman. How many times has she moved Bella around in the last few years?"

Charlie said nothing, just took another swig of his beer and zeroed in on the kids again, watching his little girl run screaming away from Jacob and the fat worm he was waving around.

"That's what I thought." Billy couldn't hide the satisfaction in his voice. "You're better off to stay where you are. One of these days, Renee is either going to dump Bella on you so that she can go live her life, or else Bella is gonna want to come and live with you again. You're better off to have the same house she's always known, the same people, the same town. This is her home. You're the one thing in her life that is constant. Keep it that way."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Charlie agreed reluctantly. "It's just hard being away from her all the time. Look at how much she's grown, Billy. I'm missing out on everything. A little girl needs her daddy."

"She has you, Charlie. Don't doubt that." Billy laughed hard when Jake ran up behind Bella, tapped her on the back and planted a wet kiss on her when she spun around. "Besides, I think Jake might object if you left. He'd know it would mean Bella isn't coming back anymore. I swear, Charlie. Those two kids are meant to be. One day they're gonna make us family."

"We already are family." Sarah snuck up behind the two men, kissing each of them on the cheek before chastising them. "I'll thank you two to not marry off my babies just yet. They've got lots of growing up to do. Let's enjoy them while they're little."

"Charlie, I know Bella's only been home for a day, but would you mind if she spent the night here with us? Sue's going to stay with Joy and I told them I'd take Quil overnight. Embry is going to spend the night too. I don't think Jacob is going to be willing to let her leave. Besides, she's good for Quil right now."

Hiding the relief in his voice, Charlie smiled brightly for Sarah. "Sure, she can stay. Truth be told, I could use the night alone. Got a few things to take care of anyhow."

Hours later, Charlie Swan found himself staring at the white peeling paint of a wooden shack. The place was out of the way, nondescript except for the faded Old Style sign on the side of the building. Just another ramshackle old honky tonk out in the sticks. The kind of place you went to when you didn't want to be seen, where nobody knows your name.

The bar was run by an old man who looked like he'd lived hard, wiping down the bar with a greasy rag you wouldn't use to clean your carburetor with. Cheap women brazenly draped themselves over men like bees to honey. Drawing lines down their chests with chipped and broken nails, lipstick smudged from sipping on dollar cocktails, flaunting their wares to anyone with a couple of bucks.

Charlie saw it all and didn't care. Here he wasn't a cop or the guy whose wife had left him. Here was just another man, another story nobody cared about. All that mattered was the bottom of a bottle.

The old man kept on wiping the gouged surface of the bar, nodding his head once to Charlie. "What'll it be mister?" His voice sounded rough, gravelled and scratched from too many years of smoke and liquor.

"Jack. Make it a double." Tossing a fifty on the bar, Charlie was determined to get good and plastered.

The first taste burned his tongue and throat. Rotgut, fire, stronger than turpentine. He tossed it back without so much as flinching. "Keep 'em coming," was his last request, not uttering a word for the rest of the night.

Charlie sat on a cracked stool, sipping cheap whiskey from a filthy chipped glass, drowning his sorrows and listening to the music from his past. Trying to forget all that he'd loved and lost in his lifetime.

The summer passed all too quickly into fall, bringing with it shorter days and dreary autumn skies. Bella had been gone for a month, taking the warmth of the sun with her.

More than once, Charlie found himself at that out of the way bar. Disappearing from his friends lives like a thief in the night. Losing himself beneath the neon lights and smoke-filled room. The dive and its patrons had become his own personal brand of comfort. The bartender recognized his face, but he was just another drink in the crowd, dropping in randomly, downing his liquor and counting his sorrows by the bottle. Sometimes he'd call a cab to get home. Other times he'd pass out in the backseat of his car, waking up with a screaming hangover and a gritty mouth tasting like dirt.

One night after a hard day in which he formally accepted the position Chief Johnson had offered him, Charlie drove out to the dive, ready to get lost again. Walking in, he never noticed Billy and Harry in the shadows, lying in wait to pounce and end his love affair with Jim, John and Jack.

"So, this is where you've been spending your time lately. Nice place." Charlie was startled to find himself sandwiched between his buddies. This was his joint, not theirs. Shame and anger crashed over him like a tidal wave upon being caught.

"Whatever the hell you're doing here, you guys can leave," he demanded. "I'm a big boy."

"Yeah, well for a grown ass man, you're acting like a teenage punk," observed Billy, eyeballing Charlie's dirty glass, then flagging down the bartender. "Two Rainiers, bottle if you got it."

"Forget it, they're leaving," Charlie stated, just wanting them to get the hell out.

"No we're not." Billy slapped his money on the bar before anyone could blink. "Two Rainiers."

The silence was deafening. Nobody said a word while they downed their alcohol. Charlie became increasingly uncomfortable and was about to get openly hostile when Harry's calm, collected voice rose over the scratchy sound of the jukebox. "You wanna keep coming here, that's fine. Just don't expect us to watch."

"Think about it Charlie. This isn't what Quil would have wanted. If Renee knew about this, she'd use it to keep Bella from ever coming back here again. You want to wreck your health, go right ahead. But, we're not sitting back and just lettin' it happen."

Charlie reached for his drink, but just as his fingers wrapped around the glass, Billy's hand covered it. "You're better than this Chief. I've watched too many of my own people turn to this shit when things got bad." Tears shimmered in Billy's eyes and Charlie's guilt loomed large in their wake.

"I can't lose you too."

His voice was no louder than a whisper, but the words echoed over and over in Charlie's mind like the crack of a shotgun, going straight to his heart.

"We'll be outside." Billy clapped him on the shoulder, leaving him alone with his cheap whiskey and his shame.

He sat there for another few minutes, trying to come to terms with what had just occurred. Lifting the dirty glass to his lips, Charlie found himself unable to take a drink, nearly choking on the amber liquid. Looking around, for the first time he fully saw where he was and what he was quickly becoming.

Then he remembered the kids running around the yard the day of the funeral. His thoughts settling finally on Quil's son. Charlie felt ashamed of his actions when his own troubles were nothing to bear in light of the boy's. It was time for his self-imposed exile to end.

Setting the glass on the counter, he nodded goodbye to the old bartender for the last time. When the door swung closed behind him, Charlie breathed in the cool, clean air, tasting the salty sea and the sky. Then gazed up at the million stars beginning to light up the deep Washington skies.

Somewhere between twilight and darkness falling, in a pitted gravel parking lot in the middle of nowhere, Charlie found the strength to let go. The grief he held so tightly flew off into the night to join Quil somewhere in the mystic.

Peace settled over his being, slowly healing the jagged edges of his heart. Looking out past the run down cars, he found Billy and Harry leaning against Ruby's hood, waiting to take him home. Striding over to them Charlie was certain in the knowledge that with friends to hold him up, he would not go under. This time, he would survive.

There was still a part of him that feared what else life would bring. Trouble loomed around the corner, prepared to pounce and rear its ugly head. For now it didn't matter. The night was long and he had promises to keep.

A/N: According to fandom lore, and by that I mean the lexicon according to S.M., Quil Sr. died in a storm when his son was quite young. Obviously I have taken some liberty as to what the emotion surrounding his death would have been like as I have for several events in Charlie's life. I realize that this story has become quite full of angst and must seem as if there is no hope for future happiness. I promise that even though there are a few more chapters that are troubling, there will be laughter in Charlie's life. I am an HEA kind of gal. There will be joy and humor as Charlie and Billy find their places in the world as well as comfort in each other, the way that only true friends can. I hope that you'll all stick with me.