I want to thank everybody for all of your patience. I'm really swamped with finals right now, and it's hard to find the time (and inspiration) to write. The reviews and emails mean a lot to me. And special thanks go to Morning -you're an inspiration to me!
Chapter Eight
Charlie opened her eyes slowly. The morning sun was shining softly through her window, and the mating song of a bird perched on the window ledge rang out cheerfully through the air.
Stupid birds. Always waking her up.
She rolled her shoulders underneath the blankets and reluctantly sat up, throwing back the sheets which had been so carefully tucked around her the night before, by...
Throttle. Where was he? Charlie remembered falling asleep wrapped in his protecting arms. She must have been really zonked out if he hadn't waked her when he left her in the bed. She flopped back against the pillow and tucked her arms behind her head to stare up at the ceiling.
It had been nice, really nice, to drift off next to the Mouse she had dreamed of for so many years.
Clattering noises from the kitchen caught her ears, and Charlie fought the instinctive wince. It had been six years, after all. Maybe Throttle had improved his cooking skills…
A following crash proved all maybes pointless, and Charlie slid out from under the covers, intent on saving what was left of her kitchen. A quick glance in a mirror made her wince; she was not one of those lucky redheads who could look lovely while crying. Even now, several hours later, her eyes were still puffy, and her skin was a bit blotchy-
She shook her head and groaned. By now, Throttle had ferreted out every last little secret horror of the past few years, every little bit of ugliness inside of her, and she was thinking about her outer appearance?
Yup. Nothing wrong with a little vanity.
There wasn't anything she could do about her face right now, but she ran her fingers through the tangles of her long hair as she padded into the kitchen. The sight that met her eyes left her wanting to both laugh and groan.
Throttle was standing over the stove, staring at a smoking mass slopping over the sides of her one skillet. Broken eggs, spilled liquids, and dried goods littered the counters and not a small part of the near floor. Hot dogs (which she had continued to buy and eat out of sheer habit after the bros had left) cooked in a pot of boiling water –the one and only cooking project that seemed to be going well. She gave up and giggled.
Throttle spun around, and Charlie leaned against the doorway to smile weakly at him. "Morning."
"Uh," he looked around the mess and shrugged, blushing faintly. "Mornin'. I figured I could get it all cleaned up before you woke."
She sighed and waved him away from the mess on the stove. "Why don't you try to get the floor cleaned up? I'll make breakfast."
It didn't take long before Charlie was sitting across from the golden-furred Mouse, watching him scarf down hotdogs as she nibbled at an egg on toast. "Thanks for trying the whole cooking thing. It was a nice thought."
Throttle's ears twitched. "Yeah, well. At least I managed ta clean everything up without any problem."
"Yeah." Silence fell between them, and Charlie wondered what was going through Throttle's mind. For that matter, she couldn't quite get her own thoughts settled. Vulnerable didn't even begin to describe the way she was currently feeling. The brief breakfast escapade had at least put them on more even ground; she had had no idea of what to say to him when she'd first stepped into the kitchen. What do you say to the one guy you trust more then anything else, but had wanted even more to keep a secret from?
"D'ja sleep okay? It looked like you were when I got up."
"Uh huh. Did you stay with me the entire night?"
"Yeah. You feeling okay? I didn't really mean ta make you cry."
"It's all right. I think I've cried more since you guys came back then I did the entire time you were gone." And silence reigned again.
Throttle wanted to yank his antennae out. It was as though they were saying anything, anything at all, to keep dancing around the previous night. But he had so many questions still, and he really needed answers.
"How many people know about the, uh… about you?"
Charlie looked away. "Jack knows. He was there when I hauled myself back to Earth. Several of the fighters know that I was in a prison camp, but they don't know the extent of it. And the doctors who fixed me; they know, of course. That's all."
"Oh."
She sighed. "You want to tell Modo and Vinnie, don't you." It wasn't a question.
Throttle shrugged uncomfortably. "I won't if you don't want me to. But it doesn't feel right to keep somethin' like that from 'em. They really care about ya, Charlie-girl. We all knew something was wrong, and I don't like hidin' that I know what it is now. Since I didn't come home, they'll figure I was with you, and they'll know that I probably know somethin'." Slightly confused words, but the sentiment rang clear.
He looked so miserable that Charlie rose and crossed to him, where she stroked a hand over the wild golden head. "I know what you're trying to say. I care about you guys, too. A part of me has wanted to spill everything from the moment you walked into my office." She sighed and shook her head. "But I'd gotten so used to holding everything inside that I couldn't let it go. And I guess I just wasn't ready to deal with it all. But you should tell them when you feel it's right."
"Thanks, Charlene. It doesn't really make me feel any better now that I know what happened to ya. But it makes me feel better to know." He reached up to cover the hand that she had left on his shoulder.
Charlie bent and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I'd forgotten what it meant to have people to care and look after me like you guys do." She sighed again and rested her head on his, which, even though he was sitting down, reached easily to her shoulder.
After a moment, she realized that he hadn't responded, hadn't even moved, since she'd planted that light kiss on his cheek. "Throttle?"
His hand tightened over hers, and he turned so that they stared at each other.
"Charlie-girl," he whispered. For a moment, she thought he'd try to kiss her, more seriously then she had him. But he only sat there silently. She shifted uneasily. Finally, he raised his free hand to cup her cheek. "I'd never forgotten. All I could think of was you."
"Throttle-" She tried to cut him off, stop what he was about to say, he ran over her words.
"I can't keep holdin' it all inside like this, Charlie. It hurts too much. I loved you even before that last night, when we kissed up on the roof. It tore me apart to come back and see you actin' like you were. And now that I know everythin', I just love you more." When she tried to shake her head in denial, he pressed ruthlessly on. "Yes, Charlene. I love you. But I need to know if you still feel the same way about me."
When she could only stand there, speechless, he dropped his hand and walked out of the kitchen. His movement finally broke the spell over her, and Charlie ran after him. "Throttle, wait!"
He stopped and stood there in her doorway, just looking at her.
"Please, Throttle, just wait. I… sit down. Please."
"Okay, Charlie." He crossed to the couch and sat, a patient expression on his face. "No more games."
"No more games," she agreed. She sat in the chair across from him. It was her favorite chair, one that one of the first Fighters had found in the rubble of an old house and brought to furnish her new rooms. She loved to sit in the softness of its deep, blue upholstery and think. Now, she settled on the edge of her chair and searched for every bit of comfort she had ever found there.
"I won't lie to you, Throttle. These years have been absolute hell for me. But I'd gotten to a place where I was content. Not happy; I don't think that was really possible for me. But I could look around me, at what I had, at what I'd accomplished, and I was satisfied. Proud, even. And then you and your bros came in through that door and all of that contentment went right out the window." She reached out for his hand, and nearly cried when he met her halfway. She clutched at the large, capable fingers with their light covering of golden fur, and continued.
"When you first left, all I could think about was how much I loved you, how much I missed you. And all through my captivity, no matter what they did to me, I held onto that. I think it kept me sane, or near enough to it that the docs were able to pull me back. And right now, I'm sitting here, thinking how much I still love you."
Throttle's eyes glowed, and he rose from his seat to reach for her. But Charlie wasn't finished yet, not quite. She jerked away. "Wait. I have to get this all out."
Throttle shook his head in disbelief and frustration. "What else is there, Charlie-girl? I love you. You love me. Isn't that enough?"
But Charlie mirrored the shaking of his head. "Throttle, I'm trying to tell you. I do love you. But right now I'm too mixed up inside, too broken. And I'm not sure that I can have a relationship with you, no matter how much I want it. I need time, Throttle."
He stood over her, and breathed out a ragged sigh. "Time. You're killin' me here, Charlie."
"I know that." She clutched at his hand, clung to it. "I know, and it's not fair to you. But I'm afraid that if I rush into something, I'll screw it up. Please understand that. I don't want to hurt you, or drive you away, just because we couldn't wait a while for me to pull myself together. Okay?"
Throttle crouched down beside her and ran a hand over her hair as she had done to his earlier. "I guess that makes sense. I don't like it much, but I don't wanna hurt you either." She allowed him to pull her from the chair and into his arms, and he nuzzled his cheek against her soft red hair. "We're somethin', aren't we, Charlie-girl."
"Yeah." She sniffled once, and buried her face in the curve of his neck. "We really are."
* * *
Throttle roared into the scoreboard and removed his helmet, but he didn't move toward the entrance, toward the companionship and comfort of his bros. Instead, he held the old, battered helmet in his hands, studying the multiple scratches and dings covering its surface.
"You okay, bro?" Modo moved from where he stood in the doorway, and placed a hand on Throttle's shoulder. The golden furred Mouse nodded. "D'ja find out what's wrong with Charlie? I'm guessin' that's why you didn't come home last night."
"Yeah." Throttle blew out a heavy breath. Should he tell them? Charlie's words echoed through his head –Tell them when you feel it's right-. "Yeah, she told me. Let's go find Vinnie, 'cause I don't wanna tell this twice."
Vinnie was subsequently dragged from his bed and plopped into a chair at the table. "What's the big deal?" he whined as Modo grabbed beers for them all. "Like I care if Throttle finally got into Charlie's pants." At a growl from both Mice, he threw up his hands. "Fine. Spill the beans, Leader-Mouse."
And so Throttle told them the last missing details of Charlie's imprisonment. By the time he was finished, Vinnie's peevish mood had been replaced by pure rage, and Modo's remaining eye glowed a deep scarlet. "So that's it, bros."
"Goddamn butchers!" Modo pounded the table with his mechanical fist. Throttle found himself absently hoping that the glass bottle squeezed in the gray Mouse's real hand didn't break from the pressure he angrily exerted; none of them was particularly good at first aid to begin with, and they certainly weren't in the mood for the delicate and painstaking task of pulling slivers of glass from tender flesh.
Vinnie rocked back in his chair and wiped a hand over his face. "I still don't get why she didn't just tell us." The expression on his face was one of bewilderment. And there was hurt as well, something Throttle had rarely ever seen.
"Remember how long it took before you could talk about losin' Harley?" When Vinnie nodded, Throttle spread his hands. "I think it's somethin' like that. Sometimes somethin' just hurts so much that you can't talk about it for a while."
"Yeah." Vinnie nodded slowly. "Okay, I get that. So what are you gonna do about her?"
"Huh?"
The white Mouse groaned and shook his head. "Ya try and try ta teach 'em… Charlie, you moron. You gonna sit back and wait for her to make up that weird female mind of hers', or are ya gonna go after her?"
Throttle raised his hands in the air. "Maybe this didn't make its way through that thick skull of yours, but Charlie-girl's still got a lot of issues she needs to deal with. If I chase after her, don'cha think that'll make it hard on her? I don't wanna hurt her, Bro."
Vinnie grinned. "I'm gonna ignore that little insult so I don't have'ta hurt you. Who said anything about hurtin'? She loves ya, Bro. And I've never met a woman, no matter how messed up she was, who didn't appreciate a little romance. Know what I'm getting' at?"
A smile grew on Throttle's face as the possibilities began to occur to him. "Ya know, Big Guy," he said to Modo, who shared his grin, "maybe he's not so dumb after all."
* * *