A/N: Guess who has two thumbs and moved to another country for a year?! Lots of people, but also me haha. So sorry for the delay, guys, I was barely able to buy paper plates, never mind dedicate the time this story deserves. But I never forget my beloved Daisies...

Another talky chapter awaits! There is a lot of history and mystery to work through in this story. I feel like Bryan Fuller and co. probably looked at the mammoth task that would have been a PD comic book and just went 'nah, let's start something else'...

But he's inspired us too much, this train can't be stopped! Even if there're only like three passengers along for the ride hehe.

Thanks for reading x

Chapter 22: The Bright Side

"Well…at least one of us managed to not die before our time."

Chuck watched her father stuff his face with a croque-monsieur, seemingly underwhelmed by what she had just told him.

"That's it? Your old war buddy pops up after twenty years and that's all you have to say?"

Charles Charles brushed crumbs off of his shriveled hands and she found herself staring at them, reminded once more that she had come back intact while he had not. Chuck often wondered what kind of life he would lead after being dead for so long. It was a sobering thought, one that had not occurred to her at first. Possibly because the sight of him alive sent her mind spiraling into a fractal of 'not again, not again, please don't leave me again'…

"It doesn't feel like twenty years to me," Charles remarked. "Last time I saw him we were in some bar for my birthday. I'm guessing he aged a lot better than I did."

Chuck looked up and realized he had caught her staring. He smiled and tilted his head, waiting for her to speak her mind.

"Eddie disappeared after you died," she said instead. "After his wife died. He took Ned away – to protect him, he claims. Did you know he was a…?"

"Necromancer."

She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds too sinister."

Her father shrugged, as if it to say it was.

The girl frowned and looked down at her lunch, stewing in silence for a while, before: "He had a whole other family, you know. Twin boys, a few years younger than Ned. And he abandoned them too."

"…that does not surprise me."

This time his non-reaction did not just bewilder her, it irked her. "Your best friend was living a double life and that's all you have to say?"

"What else is there, Charlotte? I would never leave by choice, but I don't have much moral high ground beyond that. We both lied, we both cheated. I hate to break it to you but your parents aren't perfect."

Chuck scoffed. "Quite the understatement…" Appetite lost, she pushed her sandwich away like it had begun to grow mold.

"Aw, come on, Button," Charles Charles protested. "I'm gonna have a tough enough time with your aunt. I don't need the attitude from you too."

"I'm not mad," she lied, getting up to gather her things. "But I have to go now – the Jimmy Neptune media circus is in town."

"I thought we all agreed you can't be part of that."

"Well, I wasn't planning on introducing myself as Lonely Tourist, Charlotte Charles. I'm going to pose as their assistant, Emily Frontenac." She said the name with flourish, but her father did not seem convinced.

"You need some sort of disguise. A hat and sunglasses can only go so far. You'll need a haircut and a dye job sooner than later."

"What are you, my stylist?"

"This is serious, Charlotte," he said, in a way that made her feel about two feet tall. "Ned and I don't always see eye-to-eye where you're concerned but he's right. This is not the time to be conspicuous."

She rolled her eyes grandly and threw on her coat. "Great, for once we're all in agreement."

"Button-"

"Love you, bye."

With that she waltzed away, before he could say anything else to sour her already curdled mood.

XXX

Baking had always been a source of solace for the Pie Maker. There was no emotional ill that could not be remedied by a pot of stewing fruit, a perfectly formed pie crust and a snowy coat of whipped cream. Of course, that was before he found out that his father never really loved his mother, that their marriage was essentially one of convenience, and that the woman he actually wanted to marry and start a family with had died in a warzone, then been brought back to life, leaving Eddie unable to touch her…until one day he found out he could.

"Look on the bright side."

Ned stared at Olive as if she had just sprouted a second head. They were rushed off their feet that morning, leaving them very little time to discuss what had been unearthed last night. But it seemed the waitress could not wait any longer to try and force him to feel better about it.

"A tornado just tore through my life," he muttered, pouring coffee into a cluster of mugs. "It took everything I thought to be true and ripped it out by the roots. If there's a bright side, I can't see it right now."

"…well, it's not immediately clear," she said, slicing up a honey-crust pie with the smooth efficiency of a surgeon. "But once the clouds part a little you might want to consider the possibility that if Eddie could lose his powers eventually, allowing him to be with Emma, you could do the same someday, allowing you to be with Chuck."

Olive was already on the wrong track. He had considered this, but it only caused him more anxiety. For Eddie had emphasized that he did not know how or why he lost his ability to wake the dead. All he knew was that he went out on assignment one day, soon after the birth of his first son, and when he tried to work his magic he found that it was gone. A year of painstaking testing later, he went looking for the woman who would become Maurice and Ralston's mother…

"We don't know that it would work the same way with me."

And even if it did, the thought of creating an entire person, in hopes of freeing himself from his powers – powers which could then be inherited by that unwitting offspring – was enough to put him off parenthood all together. Not that he had ever seriously considered it, before Chuck.

"It might…"

"And if it does? Then what?" he demanded to know, his tone heated.

Olive stared up at him, looking as lost as he felt. Just then a counter customer cleared his throat pointedly. The Pie Maker winced an apology and slid over his order. What he needed most right now was to not think about any of this. So he picked up a tray and hurried away, determined not to think or talk about anything but pie for the rest of the day…

"Christ on a cracker. You're so sunken-eyed right now you actually look like a grim reaper."

Ned was too tired to be offended, so he simply threw a dish towel at her. Olive caught it deftly and chuckled, turning her attention to the rising stack of pie plates and cutlery.

"I was up all night, thinking. And drafting your new contract. I forgot how complicated it is…"

"You should probably consult a lawyer for these things," she replied with a wry smile.

Ned grimaced as if she had suggested he go to the dentist. "Lawyers are for franchises, not mom-n-pop shops."

"We could be a franchise someday…"

The Pie Maker cocked an eyebrow. "You haven't even signed yet and you're already thinking that big?"

Olive's eyes took on a dreamy gleam. "I'm always thinking big."

As she smiled up at him, Ned got a glimpse of the professional jockey that had competed for years before she came to the Pie Hole. Funny how such a tiny person could contain all that ambition. More, perhaps, than he ever had. That was what made her the right person to help manage this place – a fact that was reinforced when he outlined the requirements of the role, and realized she already had most of them covered as a waitress…

"You can read over it tonight; make notes; ask questions. And sign it when you're ready."

"Oh, I am so ready."

And she swiped a wet plate from him, as if to demonstrate that her energy and enthusiasm was some sort of renewable resource.

They lapsed into silence, allowing themselves be soothed by the hypnotic rhythm of washing and drying, as well as the sound of Manuel dancing around the room with his floor waxer.

"Maybe we should talk to a lawyer, though," Ned said after a while.

"Nah," she replied. "I trust you. Always have. I barely read my first contract before I signed."

"Seriously?"

"Well, what did I have to lose, a kidney? And like I said…I knew I could trust you not to screw me. Professionally."

She winked puckishly and Ned blushed, turning to stare down into the sink full of soap suds.

"Hey, we should celebrate," the Pie Ho piped up once they were done with the dishes.

And by celebrate I mean grab a bottle o' the good stuff, drop in on Emerson and get white girl wasted."

The Pie Maker put the last plate away, then leaned back against the sink. "I don't think he wants to see me. On account of him hating me for ruining his chance to find Penny."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Then I hate myself enough for the both of us."

Olive rolled her eyes, refusing to be deterred. "Well, I know someone who can help with that. Goes by the name of Jack Daniels…"

XXX

Emerson peered through the keyhole and groaned at the sight of the two idiots at his door.

"…I really need to move," he muttered, sotto voce.

"We know you're in there, Cod!" Olive yelled. "We can hear you grumbling."

He yanked open the door. "What in the good goddam-?"

"I'm sorry, Em," Dough Boy slurred. "So sorry about Penny."

Abruptly, the PI felt his heart twist. He could see that Ned was torn up about her, among other things. But he did not have the strength to sympathize, or discuss it right now. Instead he snatched the bottle from them, and half-heartedly declared:

"Let's get this party started."