A/N: Okay, this one went all introspective on me :p It's more character-driven than plot-heavy. But the next will be all about action! Important plot developments below, including Nolive, so please do read and review...
Chapter 5: Time and Travel
As a child, Charlotte Charles struggled to sleep through the night. Following the death of her father she had come to fear the worst from life. For if Charles Charles could drop dead at any moment, so could she. So could young Ned. So could her aunts...
Thus traumatized, she would don her Godzilla costume, its spongy lining seeming to shield her from the present and seal her in the past. With this armour mounted, she made the long and lonely trip downstairs...
Lily and Vivian were almost always awake, commiserating over glasses of medicinal alcohol. Upon sighting the miniature monster they would scold her for being out of bed, before allowing her to squeeze in between them.
She had slept then, safe in the knowledge that if they were to die without warning, they would at least be together...
20 years, 40 weeks, 9 days, 14 hours and 51 minutes later, the girl named Chuck tossed and turned, as a batch of fresh fears emerged from the oven of her life. Dwight Dixon was on the loose, probably planning to kill them. Possibly approaching the Pie Hole at that very moment. And all she could do for her friends was hope.
As for her family...well. She would die all over again to protect them...
At this thought, the girl named Chuck threw off her comforter, climbed out of bed and crept downstairs. From the staircase she could only just see and hear them, conversing in low, conspiratorial tones.
"We have to tell her."
"...she knows."
"...how?"
"Beats the hell out of me. But after you passed out- before I did - she called me 'Mom'. Maybe Olive said something..."
"Olive?"
"She found out, Viv, I didn't volunteer the information."
A swell of silence followed, smothering the sound of their breathing... "But you did let me to be the last to know."
"...I'm sorry."
Chuck blinked as if concussed. She had never heard her mother - stubborn as she was - actually apologize for anything. It seemed private, intimate and not something that she was meant to be privy to. Chuck realized then how childish she must look, crouching on the steps with a thumb clamped between her teeth...
"Charlotte," Vivian murmured, brushing at her eyes as she walked in. "What are you doing up, dear?"
"Couldn't sleep."
Surprisingly, Lily smiled. "Si'down, kiddo."
Chuck did as she was told, settling in between the two and taking each of their hands in hers. All at once, the fear that she had felt began to fade. It was no longer an intangible threat, a spectre waiting to swoop in and snatch them up. It had a name, a face, a weakness. And as long as they had each other, she felt invincible.
The shotgun was fairly encouraging, too...
XXX
A lifetime seemed to have passed since Olive Snook last invited the Pie Maker into her apartment. Her mission then had been seduction. Failure was not an option. For Ned just happened to be the handsomest, sweetest, strangest man Olive had ever met. And she had met many men...
20 years, 10 weeks, 5 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes ago, Olive had wanted an Arabian stallion. So much so that she dug through the earth to get it, finding and selling an archaeological treasure along the way. It was with similar determination that she discarded Alfredo Aldarisio and pursued the Pie Maker, believing Fate had brought her to him. Thus, his repeated (albeit polite) rejections had wounded her deeply.
But hindsight, as they say, is 20/20 and the waitress could see clearly now, as if a veil had been lifted...
Looking back, it seemed that she had sought love out of loneliness. Following the death of her beloved Pie (as well as her inadvertent involvement in an almost murder), Olive came across the Pie Hole and felt as Catholics must do when standing before a cathedral...
While she was perfectly at home there, waitressing had never been her ambition. Her true passion died with fellow jockey, John Joseph Jacobs. But in some small way the Pie Maker (her priest?) brought it back to life, every time he smiled at her, or said her name, or entrusted her with his dog. She loved those moments. But she knew now that she could live without them, if need be.
As for Ned...well, he had a basketful of his own neuroses: fear of intimacy, fear of commitment, fear of extinguishing an old flame. All fairly typical. And yet totally atypical...
He was afraid to touch because it tended to kill people. He was afraid to love because it tended to cloud his better judgment. He was afraid to let Olive get close because that meant one more person he might lose...
But that was changing. Everything was changing. And as the Pie Maker perched on the edge of her bathtub, she could not figure out how to feel about any of it...
"I should be first aiding you."
"Meh. Just a few bumps and bruises. You have broken bone to deal wi-"
"Ow!"
"Oops! Ma bad..."
Ned tried to smile as she pressed the improvised icepack to his nose, her free hand resting on his shoulder. "Is it really broken?" he sniffed, reaching up to hold the cold compress.
"Nah," she said, stepping back against the sink. "It's not crooked at least. Doctor Snook prescribes ibuprofen, ice and a stylish pair of sunglasses."
He smiled, more successfully this time, and Olive - fearing that she might blush or bat her eyelashes - turned round. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and- yikes! Her hair was matted with mud, the cut above her eyebrow glared bright red and the bruise...well, that shade of purple was not particularly flattering...
For the first time that night, Olive slowed down, stopped and thought - not about Ned or Chuck or Emerson - but about what had happened to her. Flashbacks of the attack flickered through her mind like a film reel and she froze...
"Olive?"
The waitress blinked and shook her head, shuddering slightly. She glanced up at the medicine cabinet, pretending not to notice Ned reflected in its door. No need to worry. She was okay. A-ok...
"Could you pass me the first aid kit?"
The Pie Maker did, but as she tried to take it he held on, compelling her to turn round completely.
"What?" she asked at the look on his face.
"Ol..." he said softly. "You're crying."
"Wha...?" She traced a trembling hand over her cheek and...damn. She was. "Sorry..."
"Don't," he pleaded. "Don't be sorry. And don't be sad. Please, Olive, I know I let you down. But I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Olive realized then how responsible he truly felt, but before she could reassure him he was touching her. One warm baseball mitt of a hand carefully cupping her cheek while the other administered stinging saline solution. Olive stilled, savouring the feel of him on her skin, committing the moment to memory...
"Ice," the Pie Maker murmured when he was done. "You need ice. And a shower."
She snorted dryly. "Thanks."
Ned nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and studiously avoiding her eyes. "I'll go clean up, too. Do you want anything else?"
"Um...chocolate and peanut butter pie?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Pie for breakfast?"
"Hey," she wagged a warning finger. "Stop with the judging. You stress bake, I stress eat. Culinary yin yang."
"Heh..." He gave a genuine grin. "Okay. Chocolate and peanut butter coming up. Quite literally, seeing as I have to go all the way down-"
"Ned!" Olive yelped, fear seizing her suddenly her as he walked away. "Don't. I don't - I'm not hungry."
"Huh?"
"Don't go downstairs. Not by yourself. It's not safe."
"Olive, he isn't-"
"Just don't, Ned!" she snapped, stamping her foot and immediately feeling foolish for it. "Please."
The Pie Maker stood stunned, not quite knowing how to react to this intensely serious version of the usually sunny waitress. "Uh...okay. I've...got some key lime in my fridge, if you want?"
"That...that will do fine," Olive sniffed, piecing her composure back together. "Thank you."
He nodded, smiling uncertainly as he closed the door behind him...
An hour later she emerged from her bedroom - washed and swathed in a pink bathrobe. Ned was in the kitchen, watching Digby and Pigby scarf down their own breakfasts...
"Bon appétit," the Pie Maker murmured, offering Olive a plate. She took it and leaned against a counter top, picking intently at the pastry.
They sank into silence for a while (meaningless morning news playing out in the background) before Ned spoke:
"Ol...would you like me to stay the night? I mean...what's left of the night..."
The weary waitress looked up as if snapping out of a spell. "Why do you ask?"
He hesitated. "You just seem a little...on edge. And I don't want to leave you like this. I can't leave you like this. I felt bad enough letting Emerson go..."
At that, Olive began to feign intense interest in her pie. "Well, I don't need babysitting anymore than he does. And besides. I don't think Digby would appreciate being kicked out of bed."
Ned blushed. "I can take the couch," he said, managing to make it sound like a suggestion and decision at the same time. "If anything, you'll be babysitting me. I'm not ready to be home alone. Without Chuck I..."
Olive watched as a cartoon cloud seemed to appear over his head, soaking him in sadness. She sighed, wondering wistfully if he wanted her company or just any company...
"Hey," she said at last. "You should stay the night. The morning. And in the afternoon you can help me pack a few of her things. A very few, since she'll be back soon. Then in the evening we'll go over with some pie and have a little going away party."
"What about the Pie Hole?"
She shrugged and smiled. "I think we deserve a day off, don't you?"
The Pie Maker looked up and, slowly but surely, the clouds parted. "Yeah. I do..."
XXX
At that very moment, Emerson Cod had no intention of taking time off. In fact, his work had only just begun. The Private Investigator sat at a booth in Café Cliché, casting his wary bleary eyes across the diner that had only just opened up. Its staff had clearly just woken up and its chipped checkered floor nearly tripped him up, but he knew that coffee at home was not an option.
Emerson needed to stay awake, alert, at least until the Darling Mermaid Darlings were safely away. He had already contacted Aquacade owner, Jimmy Neptune and convinced him to secure three seats (one for their 'assistant') on the next flight to Paris. After much hemming and hawing and yawning, the tour manager complied. Now Emerson had only to wait and anticipate the next move of Dwight Dixon...
"Breaking news coming in from Papen County-"
The PI very nearly dropped his drink as Early Bird News' Veronica Bell seemed to stare straight at him. He knew then, absolutely knew that this would have something to do with the murderous man...
"A dozen unburied bodies have been found in the From Here to Forever cemetery. Sources on the scene suggest that the group committed mass suicide - led by convicted conman Terry Marlowe. Marlowe, aka Father Brother Priest, founded the Poppy Temple People sect three years ago, after-"
Emerson set down the coffee cup, as its contents threatened to bubble up from his gut...
Proximity. One of those fools must have been in proximity. But the other 11...well, it was hard to feel bad about them when they planned on offing themselves anyway. And yet...the PI could not help but worry for the Pie Maker. He would take this badly, blame himself, obsess over which one he was responsible for...
Cod stood, scoffing at the tip jar as he paid for his coffee. He would look into the deaths before Ned got wind of them. Hopefully their friendly neighborhood coroner could save them some grief...
A/N: I owe a lot to the PD Wiki for reminding me of important plot points :p Saves me having to rewatch episodes! Which I am happy to do, but time is few...
Father Brother Priest and the Poppy Temple People are from BF's comic, but this pretty much marks the end of my inspiration from that. There are no more pages :( So I have to come up with my own theories as to what happens next and why...
Side note: R.I.P Whitney Houston. Olive is going to sing at some point in the story, so 'I Will Always Love' might be it. But the Dolly Parton version would probably be a better fit...