Chapter 6: Conscious Conscience
For Disclaimer and other notes, see Chapter 1
"Love sleeps all alone.
The cold telephone,
I know the heart.
Yes, I know the kind.
The kisses of fire,
turning to gray.
I never wanted it this way.
I always wanted you to stay…"
Roxette, "Half a Woman, Half a Shadow"
"Hurley?" Claire gripped the phone in a white-knuckled fist, pressing it tightly against her ear, as if she could force herself through the holes in the receiver and end up on the other end of the line. "What is it? What's wrong? Did something happen to Charlie?"
"Whoa, Claire, take it easy," Hurley responded. She could picture him holding up a hand to slow her tumble of words. "Don't worry about it, he's sleeping it off."
"Sleeping it off? Sleeping WHAT off? What happened!"
"Okay, here's the deal. He came by my place earlier this afternoon looking like he'd been living in a ditch for the past month or so. I gave him something to eat, then I had to run to the bank for some business -- Shannon could explain all that. When I got back, I found him passed out in the tub."
"Oh my God…"
"It's all right, Claire. He was breathing and everything. I think he just hadn't gotten a lot of sleep in the past week or so and nodded off. Anyway, I got him out of the bath and into bed, so he's going to be okay. Look, did he call you while I was out?"
Claire met Shannon's worried eyes. "No, I don't think he called…?" Shannon shook her head. "No he didn't. Was he going to?"
"I told him he should. I didn't know if he had, though, cuz when I got back I found him in the bath and my phone in about sixteen pieces on the living room floor. I guess it must have said something he didn't like."
Claire rubbed her forehead. She was beginning to get a pounding headache. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, to fill space until she could think of something else to say.
"I tried you at home. Your mother said you were with Shannon."
"Right."
"I think you oughta come see him, Claire."
She sighed, hanging her head and rubbing the back of her neck. "I know," she admitted. "But he doesn't want to see me."
"Dude, do you guys have, like, a script or something?"
"What?"
"Charlie was saying the same thing, only vice versa. If you're both convinced the other one doesn't want anything to do with you, I think it kind of means you're both going crazy without one another. Like a double negative. Don't you think?"
Claire felt a small smile touch her lips. "He wants to see me?" she murmured.
"That's, like, the understatement of the century, man. Woman, I mean."
So he'd forgiven her. It was like a shadow being stripped from her lungs. She could breathe again. "What did he say about me?" she asked, suddenly giddy. "Anything?"
"Only that you wouldn't want to see him, and you wouldn't want him seeing Aidan."
Claire furrowed her brow. "Why would he say that? I practically begged him to stay when he left. Of course I want to see him! I've been worried sick I never would again!"
"Well he doesn't seem to think that." There was a significant pause on the other end of the line. Then, "Uh, Claire, there's something I think you should know."
Without having to be told, Claire knew the something wasn't anything good. Hurley never sounded grim; it wasn't in his personality to be morose. Nevertheless, she could picture the dark look on his face. "What is it, Hurley?" she asked, feeling any remaining elation fade away like mist under a harsh wind.
"Well, you know how I said I think he just fell asleep in the tub?"
"Yes?" She licked her lips, feeling her mouth go dry.
"I think he had some… help."
Visions of highly-paid prostitutes danced in her head. "What kind of help?" she asked, shocked at how angry she sounded. Softening her voice, she added, "Was there someone else there?"
"Uh… no. He was alone."
"Then what? Hot milk? Lullabies? Nyquil?"
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Realization dawned. It was funny, really, how your brain could hopscotch around the obvious when you didn't want to admit the truth.
"Oh no…" she murmured, closing her eyes.
"Yeah," Hurley said softly on the other end of the line.
"How much?"
"I dunno. I've never done the stuff, so I can't really judge. I don't think much. I found a baggie in his pocket when I was getting rid of his clothes. It's not brown sugar, that much I can tell."
Claire wanted to scream in frustration and remorse. She almost did; almost put down the phone, buried her fingers in her hair and screamed at the sheer unfairness of it all. He'd come so FAR, done so WELL. What right did the world have to dig its claws into him again and start to unravel all the hard won threads he'd used to stitch himself together?
"Okay, Hurley, thank you," she murmured hoarsely, massaging her temple. "Where are you at?"
"Shannon's got the address."
"Okay. Thanks, Hurley."
"Claire, you know this isn't your fault, right?"
"Yeah."
"It's not."
"I know, Hurley."
"You sure?"
She sighed. No, she answered silently. "Lemme get some things straight. I'll be over in a bit, all right?"
"Sounds good."
"Okay, Hurley. I'll see you soon. Bye."
She hung up the phone. The world was spinning and she was somehow stationary, watching it revolve wildly around her like a lunatic dervish. Closing her eyes to block out the nauseating sensation she murmured, "Charlie's using again."
The sentence was met by a soft intake of breath from Shannon. "Do you think it's heroin?" she asked tentatively. Claire managed a quick nod. "Oh God, Claire…" Her friend's slim fingers ran soothingly through her hair. "Hon…"
That was all the prompting she needed. Heedless of where she was, who was around her, Claire broke down. Like a house of cards she crumpled forward over her knees, sobbing.
"Claire?" Shannon sounded a little panicked. "Claire, what-"
"I don't know what to DO!" Claire gasped, hugging her legs and rocking side to side. "I should KNOW! We had to make life and death decisions every DAY on the island, and I always made the right ones. That's why I'm still alive! That's why we're ALL still alive!" She sat up, eyes streaming, and stared at Aidan, who was staring back at her with placid eyes.
"I'm a mother," she moaned, bunching the upholstery of Shannon's couch in her hands. "I'm supposed to make good decisions. I'm supposed to KNOW what to DO! But… but I can't! I thought I knew what was right before, and all I did was drive Charlie away! Just like I drove Thomas away! Just like I drove my mother away!" She buried her fingers in her hair, feeling her breath start to come in panicked gasps. "Oh… Oh God, I can't think… What am I supposed to do! Please, help me!" She didn't know who that last bit was meant for but she begged it out anyway.
Shannon's arms wrapped around her comfortingly. "What are you talking about, Claire?" she demanded, rubbing Claire's back firmly. "Who did you drive away? Thomas left because he's an asshole, not because you made him go. Your mother broke off with you, not the other way around. And she figured out the error of her ways, didn't she? What makes you think Charlie's any different?"
"I don't know how to help him, Shannon," Claire whispered tearily. "On the island, it was so cut and dry."
"On the island we couldn't be self-absorbed, Claire," Shannon clarified. "Trust me -- I know. We all had to adapt and work together to survive. We couldn't be self-destructive. But it didn't turn us all into a choir of angels, and some of us were more damaged than others when we crashed. There was always going to be a danger that we'd relapse if rescued. We went from being a unit to being these far-flung individuals who suddenly had to remember how to function with only ourselves as committee, while dealing with a whole bunch of real world issues that we could forget about on the island. Charlie didn't know how to handle those things before he crashed -- he didn't have a frame of reference to help him when he got back. So he fell apart."
Claire raised red-rimmed eyes to look at her friend. "What…?" she managed.
Shannon grinned, cat-like. "Dr. Garrison, twice a week, $300 an hour. My mother's paying. She thought Boone and I would need therapy after the island, and I never turn down free anything." She shrugged. "It must be working, since you can stand to be around me. Guess I didn't relapse."
Claire managed a smile through her tears, then sighed. "But Charlie wasn't ALONE this time," she argued plaintively. "He had me."
"For how long?"
Claire blinked. "What do you mean? Forever."
Shannon shrugged again. "Maybe Charlie didn't see it that way. Maybe he figured he only had you till he lost you. Fear of abandonment. Self-fulfilling prophecies are pretty powerful things. Now the world's back to how he remembers it. He's alone and he's dealing with it in the same way he did before the crash."
Claire turned her bloodshot eyes back to Aidan, who was quietly playing with Fluffy Bill and one of Shannon's pillows. "He wasn't going to lose us," she murmured.
"Why not? The way he sees it, he lost everything else."
"Thank God you love me, Claire, because I don't think I could stand it if I didn't get to have you like this, all to myself."
Claire blinked. His voice sounded so near, so alive, she almost looked over her shoulder to make sure he hadn't appeared in Shannon's apartment. The rest of the dialogue tumbled through her ears, and she closed her eyes, remembering.
"Well you do get me. And unless you do something REALLY asinine, you always will."
"I'm prone to being asinine, so could you be more specific?"
"I'll let you know if you're ever close, all right?"
Claire shook her head. "The idiot," she whispered, opening her eyes and staring into the distance. "He wasn't anywhere close."
"What?"
Claire looked up into Shannon's eyes. "He didn't lose everything," she said, skipping over the question. "Some things are constant."
"Like what?"
"You mean like who."
"Charlie? Dude, wake up."
A gentle hand was shaking him, and Hurley's quiet voice played like an echo in Charlie's ear. Slowly, with great effort, he opened his eyes and the world swam into fuzzy focus. The bedroom was dark and unfamiliar, sparsely furnished but clean. A shade had been pulled down over the window, though judging by the blackness of the room, it was nighttime. Hadn't it been afternoon when he arrived at Hurley's apartment?
"Time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes and wincing as he realized he was using his injured hand.
"Almost seven at night. I came home around one and found you out cold in the bathtub. You've been out like a light for, like, six hours, dude."
Charlie could just make out Hurley's shadowy form hovering by his bedside. "Sorry, mate," he apologized. "I guess I just fell asleep."
"No problem. That's what a guest room's for, right? You scared the bejeezus out of me, though. You want to not do that again, please?"
Charlie laughed huskily. "Yeah, I'll try."
He watched Hurley move around to the foot of the bed and lay something on the blankets. "Here're those clothes I loaned you," the other man said, patting the small pile. "I went out and bought you some socks and stuff, cuz I threw out all your other clothes."
"Thanks, Hurl."
"No problemo."
Suddenly, Charlie's heart seized in his chest. "Hurl," he said, trying not to panic as he pushed up on his elbows. "Did you… Did you say you threw OUT all my other clothes?"
Hurley nodded; Charlie could just make out the movement through the dark. "Yeah. Don't worry, I rescued your wallet."
Charlie swallowed. "Did you-"
"I threw out your clothes, dude," Hurley said, cutting him off. "I figured you needed a clean start, yeah?"
Charlie closed his eyes and flopped back onto the pillows. "Yeah," he agreed, raising his hand to rub at his face. "Yeah, I do."
"Yeah you do," Hurley reiterated. Charlie felt him pat his feet through the blankets. "Come on, dude, get up and get dressed. You have a visitor."
Charlie dropped his hand, staring at Hurley in confusion as the other man walked to the bedroom door. "I what?"
"You've got a visitor," Hurley repeated, stopping by the door and looking back at him over his shoulder. "You think I was gonna let you hang out here and not tell anyone?" He snorted. "Dude, dude, dude. Haven't you learned yet that I'm always gonna watch your ass?" Shaking his head and chuckling, Hurley opened the door and slipped out into the bright wedge of light before closing the door behind him.
Charlie stared at the door for a minute. There was really only one person Hurley would have called, and that was Claire. A throbbing pain began to build behind Charlie's right eye.
"Bollocks," he whispered, and tossed off his blankets.
Dressing in the dark so he wouldn't have to look at himself, he made his way to the gleaming outline of the door. It was a bit like Judgment Day, he decided as he opened the door, letting in a flood of incandescent lamplight that nearly blinded him. Everything had been stripped away -- his clothes, his drugs, his anonymity -- and now it was time to face the pearly gates. Only these pearly gates happened to belong to a beautiful woman with a megawatt smile and way too much love in her heart for a has-been junkie with a history of unreliability.
He squinted into the light as he wandered down the brief hallway to the living room. No one was there. "Hurley?" he called out, perplexed, eyes sweeping the room. "Hello?"
"He stepped out for a bit. Figured we'd need the privacy."
That wasn't Claire. Last Charlie had checked, Claire wasn't British. Or male.
Charlie felt his blood turn black. Slowly, with great care, he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen, where the voice had originated. "Hello, Liam," he said through gritted teeth.
The other man stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room light, a glass of water in one hand. He looked as Charlie had remembered him, but older. Much older. Older than he should have been after only two years. Lines creased the corners of his eyes and the sides of his mouth. "Hello, Charlie," he said with a faint smile. Holding out the glass, he asked, "I got you some water. Thought you might be thirsty."
Charlie didn't budge.
Liam bobbed a nod. "Right," he said, looking away. "I'll just put it down then, should I?" He set the glass on the end table nearest the kitchen and wandered away to stare at a pile of magazines on Hurley's kitchen table. "Your friend is very well read."
"What're you doing here, Liam?" Charlie sniped acidly.
"I was told you were here and that I should come see you. I agreed."
"Who told you? Hurley?"
"No. A very nice young lady named Claire." Charlie's heart stopped for a second as Liam turned to face him again. "She sounded worried sick about you, baby brother. I understand the feeling."
Charlie bunched his hands into fists. "I don't need you or her worrying about me," he snapped, moving away from the hallway and going to stand in front of Hurley's TV, as far from Liam as he could manage. "I'm a big boy, all right? I can take care of myself."
"Is that why your friend found you half-drowned in the bathtub?"
"I wasn't half-drowned, all right? I fell asleep."
"Of course you did."
"God, you're the bloody same, aren't you? Two years and you haven't changed an iota. Still the same arrogant, hypocritical asshole." Charlie shook his head in disbelief, turning his back on his brother and staring up at the Star Wars poster above the TV. "Get the hell out, Liam. I don't need to talk to you."
He heard a sigh. "I knew this would happen," Liam said, and Charlie could picture the frustrated look on his brother's face. "Two years I've tried to practice this meeting, and I always managed to botch it up, even in my head. I'm sorry, baby brother. I'm not here to lecture. I just want to talk."
"I said I don't need to talk to you."
"I think you do. Claire thinks you do."
"Well you and Claire are wrong. All right? I said get OUT."
"I wrote you a letter."
"I threw it out."
"Will you please look at me, Charlie? It's been two years since I've seen your face anywhere but in the papers. I'm your BROTHER, for fuck's sake. I'm not asking for a hug, but can I please at least look at you?"
Squaring his shoulders, Charlie turned around. Liam was leaning against the back of the couch, and smiled a little as he turned. "Whose fault is it that you haven't seen me, huh?" Charlie asked, ignoring the smile and loading his voice with all the venom it could handle. "I've been back for months, Liam. MONTHS. You could have come to see me anytime since then. Where were you when we got back, huh? Why weren't you waiting in Brisbane? Everyone else's bloody family was there -- WHERE WERE YOU?"
Liam's smile faded and Charlie felt a rush of sick glee as his brother looked down, abashed. "That was a mistake, Charlie," the other man said quietly. He laughed self-derisively, shrugging and looking up again. "You know I'm not a man who makes good choices on the first go-round, Charlie. Never have been. I've always been a screw up. It's sheer luck Karen took me back after all my assing about."
"So what makes you think seeing me is a GOOD decision, eh? Most people would figure out when they're not wanted and stay away."
Liam nodded, pushing into a standing position. "True," he said, walking slowly around the couch. "But not being wanted and not being needed are different things, baby brother." He stopped and met Charlie's gaze head on. Charlie refused to blink when he saw tears in his brother's eyes
"Cor, I've missed you, baby brother," Liam whispered. "You don't know how much."
Charlie stared at him for a second, then barked out a laugh. "What, so that's supposed to make it all right?" he asked in disbelief. "You just come in here and tell me you missed me and suddenly all's forgiven? What BLOODY planet are you from, big brother? All's NOT forgiven!"
Liam nodded, holding out his hands to him. "I know, Charlie," he said. "I know it's not. Shit, brother, do you think I don't know that? Two sodding years all I've thought about is how could I come to you and ask you to forgive me and work with me and see me again, when I'm the one who sent you off to crash in the first place. I didn't even know if you were alive! I tried to hold onto that hope, but God, Charlie, there were days I couldn't SEE because all I saw were funerary curtains and you dead behind them! We had a memorial service, did you know that? Karen said we should do it, because she saw it was eating me up inside and she thought I needed closure. She was right, o'course, but I knew it wouldn't work, and it didn't. We had this photo of you, in a gilt frame, and we stood it on the altar in our local church. Everybody filed past and paid their respects, except me. I stood there, after everyone else had left, and I stared at that picture and tried to imagine you were on the other side, listening. But I COULDN'T. I couldn't do it, baby brother! It didn't help me lay you to rest -- it made me believe all the stronger you were alive. I had to believe you were alive, and that we could fix what went wrong between us. Because you're my brother and you might hate me, but I love you. I needed to let you know that face to face."
Liam had moved towards him during his soliloquy, and now they were face to face as they hadn't been in years. The age was more prevalent now, the crow's feet more pronounced. Charlie wondered, if his brother had aged this much from worry, how much had HE aged from self-inflicted hell? "Well now you've said it," he said evenly. "You can leave."
Liam's face fell. "Baby brother, please, don't push me away," he pleaded. "I want to fix this."
"Fix WHAT, exactly?" Charlie demanded, pushing Liam backward. "What, our brotherly connection? What bloody connection? All we ever did was use each other! Or have you forgotten?" He stormed past his brother, heading for somewhere, though he didn't know where. Away from those eyes that were all too familiar and all the things they stirred in him.
"That's what I want to change, Charlie!" Liam called after him. "Dammit, Charlie, I want to be your brother for once. I want you to be Megan's uncle. I want you to come by at Christmas, and New Year's, and for birthdays and block parties. I just want us to start again!"
Charlie came to a stop in front of Hurley's French windows. All of Sydney stretched out beneath his feet, blinking and glimmering in the night. "Are you asking me as a brother?" Charlie snorted, staring at the cars as they moved sluggishly through the street below. "Are you going to look out for me? Because that's always worked so well in the past."
"I want us to forget the past and start fresh. That's what I want, baby brother."
Charlie spun around and stared at him in disbelief. "Forget the past?" he asked. "You want me to FORGET?" He threw his hands out to the side. "Do you need me to remind you what you're asking? You're asking me to forget the fact that you RUINED MY LIFE! You took me away from the only thing that ever meant SHIT to me, and you turned me into a junkie asshole who didn't know his dick from a Dixie cup! You stole my MUSIC from me! You stole my BAND from me! You ruined my goddamned future, you arrogant bastard son-of-a-bitch, and now you want me to act like it's all okay? Are you fucking NUTS?"
He was shaking: from withdrawal, from anger, from the pent-up emotion of years in the shadow cast by his brother's limelight. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Liam in that moment; his lean, rakishly handsome brother with the devilish grin and a twinkle in his eye. All the girls loved him; the music industry slobbered over him. They wanted his whiskey-stained voice and his condescending swagger and his bloody Manchester accent. But they didn't want the brother. NOBODY wanted the brother.
"You walked away from me, Liam," he snarled. "You turned me into this…this THING that I couldn't recognize anymore, and then you walked away! Like I was some sort of science experiment you threw together with your chemistry set, and when I didn't turn out like you wanted, you chucked me in the trash bin and decided you wanted a show dog instead. You went and got a pretty wife, and a cute kid, and settled down in a neat little house with a white picket fence and a bloody sandbox and forgot all about me until you were FORCED to remember. And now you have the gall to ask me to FORGET?"
He turned away again, frustration painting his features. "I don't want to forget, Liam," he said, leaning against the window and watching the traffic move. "Sometimes I think hating you is the only real emotion I have left."
Silence hung between them like an iron curtain -- their own personal Cold War. Charlie could feel his brother's eyes skimming over his shoulders but didn't bother to turn around.
"I deserved that," Liam murmured finally.
"You're damn right you did."
"All right then, baby brother. Let's not forget the past. We couldn't anyway, even if we tried. But -- Charlie? Please look at me."
No, he wasn't going to turn.
"Please?
Fuck you.
"You're my little brother, Charlie. I'm supposed to look out for you, and I failed. Trust me, no matter how much you hate me right now, it's nothing compared to how much I've hated myself. Ask Karen -- have her tell you about the hospital." Charlie felt the hairs on his neck stand up, but he refused to turn around as Liam continued on. "I don't want to do that again, baby brother. I'm not going to walk away from you, because the last time I did that I lost you. I used to be a good brother, once upon a very long time ago -- I want to be that person again. But I can't do it alone. You have to LET me be your brother. I can't force it on you, and I wouldn't if I could. It has to be your choice. Just like it has to be your choice to turn around and look at me. But I'm not leaving until you do, and you can't spend the rest of your life with your back turned to the world. Isn't that how we got here in the first place? It's one thing to remember the past, baby brother, but it's a whole other thing to live through it again when you don't have to."
Charlie closed his eyes, listening to his brother's footsteps as they approached him across Hurley's plush beige carpet. "Do you remember when we'd play tag in primary school?" he asked, the memory coming to him out of thin air.
The footsteps stopped. "Yeah."
"I'd always get tagged because I was so small and couldn't run as fast as the other kids. Do you remember?"
"I remember, Charlie."
"I always ended up tagging you." He opened his eyes again. "It took me years to figure out you were running slow deliberately so I could tag you. I mean, you were at least a foot taller than me, right? You should have been legging it like Secretariat." He shook his head, staring absently at his reflection, lost in memory. "I never thanked you for that."
"No thanks necessary, baby brother."
"When did we get so angsty, Liam?"
"When we grew up and discovered girls were more fun than tree forts?"
Charlie laughed, and heard his brother's familiar chuckle just behind his shoulder. "Must have been," he agreed. "When all else fails, blame it on hormones."
Shit. He was going to cry. There was no stopping it at this point. He could feel the tears burning in his throat, building up against the dams that were his eyelids. Then Liam would hug him and he'd have to admit to the world at large that he'd missed his brother. He didn't know if he could handle that.
"You know," he murmured hoarsely. "Girls are nice. But I miss that damn tree fort."
Pivoting slowly on his heel, he turned around.
Liam's face was a smudgy blur through the unshed tears that were going to be the death of him. "I'm sorry, Liam," he croaked, not knowing what he was apologizing for but feeling he had to say it anyway.
Liam shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry for anything, baby brother," he whispered fervently, reaching out to lay his hands on Charlie's shoulders. "NOTHING, do you hear me?"
"I've done things…"
"I've done worse."
"On the island I…" He swallowed. "I tried to… forget about you."
Liam gave him a shaky smile. "I don't blame you," he assured, squeezing his shoulders. "I would have tried to forget me, too. The conceited, self-important prig."
Charlie laughed -- a quick exhalation of breath. Liam laughed, too, after a fashion, and for a second Charlie could see his brother again, instead of the haunted man with worry lines creasing his face who had stood there a minute ago. "I missed you, Liam," he said, voice trembling. "I wanted to see you in Brisbane."
"I'm so sorry, baby brother."
They were quiet for a minute.
"Are we going to give up trying to be manly and just hug?" Charlie finally asked, breaking the silence.
Liam laughed -- a real laugh this time. "Come here, you git," he said, pulling Charlie into a tight embrace. Outside of Claire, nobody had hugged him since the day of the rescue. He'd never realized how much the action meant to him; it meant someone actually cared.
Wrapping his arms around his brother he hugged back, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the shaking in his limbs that signaled his withdrawal. Hurley had known about the drugs; part of Charlie wanted to cheer his best friend for getting rid of them, but another, much more primal part wanted to scream. He'd only been back on the junk for a little over a day, and already his fingers were itching for more. Liam would know, of course, the instant he started sweating, which wouldn't be long now.
"Where're Karen and Megan?" he asked against his brother's shoulder.
"At home," Liam answered, standing back a little and smiling into Charlie's face. "Megan's dying to meet you. She hasn't seen you since she was three."
Charlie smiled. "I'd like to see her again," he said, and meant it. If Aidan had taught him nothing else, he'd learned that he loved children.
"You can come over tonight. Karen's cooking steaks."
"Not tonight, Liam. I just…" He ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to explain.
Liam held up his hands. "No, that's all right," he said, standing back, still grinning like a madman. "No need to explain, I understand. You need some space. That's okay. I don't want to be clingy anymore than I want to be distant. Look…" He dug around in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a receipt, then grabbed a pen off Hurley's table. "Here's my home number," he said, scribbling on the scrap of paper, "and my cell number, and our address. Call me in a couple of days, all right? It's Christmas in a couple of weeks." He straightened up and pressed the paper into Charlie's hand, smiling broadly. "You can come visit us. Bring Claire. I'm assuming she's your sweetheart."
Charlie chuckled, squeezing the piece of paper. "Liam, no one's said sweetheart with that connotation since 1965."
Liam chucked him on the chin. "I'm an old-fashioned guy now, or hadn't you noticed?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye. "Just call me, all right? Or I'll find you and hug you again and make you look very unmanly in front of your little lady, all right?"
Charlie laughed, nodding. "Yes, all right."
"Promise me."
"I promise, Liam, crimeny!"
"Great." Liam grinned. "All right then. You look like hell. Do you want me to fix you something to eat? Your friend Hurley said you hadn't been feeling well lately."
Bless Hurley's little cotton socks. Liam must not know about the drugs. "No thanks, mum," he teased. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own food. Honestly, I'm just tired. I haven't slept well for the past week or so."
"You need me to hum you a lullaby?"
"LIAM!"
His brother laughed. "All right, all right. Look, I'll leave now, okay? Give me a call tomorrow and tell me how well you sleep, all right? It's my brotherly prerogative to fuss over you now."
Charlie chuckled and took his brother by the arm. "Yes sir, Mr. Liam, sir," he said, steering the other man towards the front door. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." They stopped at the door and Liam smiled at him. "Welcome home, baby brother."
Charlie smiled back, and for the first time in a long time, it felt good. "Thanks."
It took another bone-crushing hug and about six goodbyes before he was able to shoo his brother out the door. When he was finally gone, Charlie turned around and pressed his back against the door, staring at Hurley's apartment and wondering what exactly had just happened. An enormous weight had been lifted off his chest. It felt like he'd been on a respirator all these years, and now, finally, he was breathing on his own again.
There was a knock behind him. Charlie rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Liam," he called through the door, standing up and twisting the knob. "I TOLD you I'd call tomor-"
He stopped dead. Because it wasn't Liam on the other side of the door.
"Hello, Charlie," Claire murmured, gazing up into his eyes. "May I come in?"
To Be Continued…