Author's Note: Spooky season is upon us! So what better time to dust this off and get back to some toil and trouble with our lovely Daises…
In this chapter we find Chuck planning to distract Charles Charles with a Halloween party, Ned, Olive and Emerson planning to skip town, and Eddie planning for a showdown with Dwight Dixon. And you know what they say about best laid plans…
Chapter 28: Once More with Feeling
For a moment, it did occur to Chuck that the most convenient costume Charles Charles could possibly wear would be a mummy. But then he suggested it himself, with such scathing sarcasm the idea shriveled up in her mind like a salted slug and she brushed it aside posthaste. Something more imaginative (and expensive) then…
Rather than aimlessly wandering the blustery streets of Paris, she thought it wiser to ask Halima where to find a decent Halloween get-up. But instead of a retailer, her employer suggested a local theatre company, tucked away in the 18th arrondisement…
"A friend of mine rents out costumes to generate some extra income. Good quality, for no more money than you'd pay at some gauche little shop. You must go, I won't have you showing up at my party looking like a birthday clown."
Chuck had a feeling Halima was trying to help her friend more than anyone else, but she didn't mind. This would only be her second soiree since she arrived in Paris and she wanted to make a good impression. Almost as much as she wanted to make sure Charles Charles had a nice time…
The marquee of Le Theatre Libre would be hard to miss, even without detailed directions. Its neon red letters gave off a glow that could be seen all the way down the street (though a few letters kept flickering on and off). When Chuck hurried into the warm, slightly musty embrace of the lobby she found it almost entirely empty, except for the cleaner who informed her the next show would not be for hours.
"Oh, I'm actually here to see the theatre director? Madame Claude?"
He grunted his understanding and inclined his head towards a set of heavy wooden doors. Chuck thanked him and carried on through to the auditorium, a cavernous space saturated with blood orange draping and gold-plating. Up on the proscenium stage, actors were fully immersed in rehearsals, either unaware or uncaring that a stranger had entered their midst…
"Emily?"
Chuck stopped in her tracks and turned to see somebody slumped over one of the well-worn chairs. The woman stumbled to her feet, revealing how very small she was – even smaller than Olive. She seemed to sag under the weight of her own voluminous silver hair, and assorted jewelry.
"Claude?"
She squinted as if looking from a great distance, sleepy-eyed but happy to see someone, anyone new. "Bievenue!" she proclaimed, her lined face lighting up with a smile that made her look much younger. "You've come to rent out some of our finest vestments, yes?"
"Ouais! For me and…a friend of mine…"
Chuck was promptly ushered to the costume department – an extensive, affectionately curated archive of real and fictional people. Audrey showed off multicolored jesters and patchwork paupers; glittering angels and ruby red devils; even an animal or two (Chuck had to stifle a giggle at the thought of her father in a donkey costume – he had been acting like an ass)…
Eventually she came across a black cape, topped with an opaque white mask…
"The Phantom of the Opera?" Charles Charles jeered, a few hours later.
"It's perfect!" she exclaimed. "I mean, they can't stage the musical, only the play, but this is almost the same costume."
Her father rolled his eyes as she hung everything up in the wardrobe. "And what are you supposed to be?"
"Charlie Chaplin," she grinned, striking a pose in her coat and bowler hat. It was not a costume they actually had, but she managed to piece it together from what was there. "Remember how I was obsessed with him because his name kind of sounded like mine?"
Charles Charles huffed a laugh. "Then you got into silent movies because you could watch them and read them."
He picked up the mask, placed it over his face and assessed himself in the murky mirror hanging on the wall. "This is quite the disguise. I don't even have to wear bandages."
"See? You get it! The Phantom had a 'skin condition' too. And you can be anyone you want under that mask…"
He hummed his assent, still eyeing his reflection. "And what will Lily and Vivian be doing during our night out on the town?"
Chuck suppressed a grimace. "Jimmy Neptune is organizing a sort of baby meet and greet with some fans. Photo ops, autographs, a quick Q&A…all in a safe controlled environment."
He scoffed, tossing the mask onto a chair. "You make them sound like an endangered species. Locked in an enclosure for their own protection."
"Well, our conservation efforts are going great," she replied, trying and failing to suppress the edge of snarkiness. "They're getting more confident and independent every day. And by the way, I didn't want to be their sitter. I would have loved to be the girl who went to parties and movies, who had friends and – and a boyfriend, and who got to see the world before I died–"
"All right," he interrupted, somewhat taken aback by her outburst. "All right, Button. I get it. You lost out on a lot. And I didn't come back here to ruin the fun. So…let's go enjoy your weird friend's graveyard party. Okay?"
She nodded wordlessly, embarrassed by her tantrum, but also exasperated by…well, everything else. Deep down in the darkest parts of her heart, she felt her father was becoming more of a burden than a blessing. And once again she had to keep him secret from Ned.
But she refused to let that ruin Halloween. This was a chance to celebrate the very thing she had kept hidden for so long. No-one else could know, but she wanted to acknowledge it…
The facts were these: Charlotte Charles had died, then been brought back, more alive than before. But she still felt death embedded in her core – a constant reminder that her life was a beautiful and terrible miracle.
If only her father could see his own the same way…
XXX
Ned trailed Olive as she contemplated a selection of options in the borderline abandoned store. With a wicked glint in her eye, she pulled out a Grim Reaper costume, complete with scythe, and held it up to the Pie Maker. It was so on the nose Dwight might think they were baiting him with a red herring…
"You have a weirdly morbid sense of humor sometimes," he observed.
She shrugged and put it back, suggesting a group costume instead. Her as Dorothy, Ned as the Scarecrow, Emerson as the Tin Man, Digby as the Cowardly Lion, Pigby as Toto…
"Why not Digby as Toto?" he asked, indulging her.
"The dog dressed up as a different dog? Come on, pie guy, think outside the box…"
Ned started to protest, only half serious, but then Emerson interjected from the other side of the room: "The point of the costumes is to hide in plain sight. Not draw attention to ourselves."
"It's just a joke…"
"Oh you wanna yuck it up, huh? Well I got a joke for you: Knock knock. Who's there? Dwight Dixon."
Olive turned to him, holding a Freddy Krueger mask up to her face. "Kinda ruins the fun when you remove the audience participation…"
Emerson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Look, I hate to rain on your parade. But we gotta get serious. Because once those lights go out it's do or die…"
The plan was simple. On Halloween night, one of their busiest, the Pie Maker and his newly minted manager would conduct business as usual.
Until Emerson cut the power, before shepherding Digby and Pigby into a non-descript rental car. He would park down the street and wait for Ned and Olive to slip out with everyone else, carrying as much money, and as many bare necessities as they could handle discreetly. If Dwight happened to be spying on the Pie Hole, there would be no way to distinguish them from their customers.
Out of town, they would let everyone know they were going to be incommunicado for a while. What they could not risk revealing was that they planned to hole up with the Snooks. A fact unknown even to the Snooks…
"What about Eddie?" Olive asked. "He will not be happy if rocks up and finds out we're trying to ghost him."
"Let me worry about Eddie," said Emerson dismissively.
But that was impossible. All Ned did was worry about Eddie, since the man showed up for the first time in years. The Pie Maker resented his father for so many things…and yet he found himself dreading the thought of leaving like this. What if he never saw him again…?
"Hey," said the PI, eyeing him as if he could see into his mind. "This is a mess of his own making. Let him clean it up."
Olive echoed the encouragement, not with words but with a hand on his wrist. She squeezed gently then pulled away to go try something on. It did not make him feel better, exactly. It was more like a band-aid placed over a fresh cut, protecting it from the elements…
"You should go as Glinda," Ned remarked offhand. The group costume was never a serious suggestion, but he kind of enjoyed annoying Emerson with it.
"I would look good in that outfit," Olive replied from the changing room (really just a wooden booth with a curtain). Ned was standing close enough that he could hear her take off her dress… "Honestly I went brunette in college and I hated it so much I had to destroy all evidence it ever happened. Oooooh, but Chuck has the perfect look for Dorothy…"
Suddenly Olive seemed to be taking the joke seriously, suggesting that next Halloween, when everything was back to normal, they should do this for real. She had no idea Ned stopped listening as soon as he heard 'Chuck'. Only then did he realize that this was the longest amount of time he had ever gone without talking to her…
Which was completely fine! If regular people had a lot on their plates, Ned and Chuck had a Vegas buffet's worth of problems to deal with. What truly took him aback, though, was the fact that none of this upset him as much as it should. The silence, the distance…he was getting used to it. He didn't want to get used to it…
XXX
In the early days of their partnership (during the monotonous moments that came with all good detective work) Emerson insisted on interrogating the dead-waking Pie Maker. It was more out of necessity than curiosity. He had to know what skeletons lurked in his closet, so there could be no ugly surprises…
Ned was willing to answer some questions (where he went to school; when his mother died; who else might know about his powers), but he turned withholding and defensive about others (what his father did for a living; how his mother died; why he seemed to have no friends)…
Emerson soon learned that poking and prodding only caused him to retreat further into his shell. So, after a background check that confirmed the basic facts, he eased up on the Spanish inquisition…except for one question he could not get past:
"You never had a real girlfriend? Or boyfriend? I can't get a read on what you're into…"
Ned had squirmed in the passenger seat of the Lincoln, shoulders hunched, staring out the window as if trying to find a way to escape this conversation.
"Maybe I'm not into any one thing," he began to ramble. "Maybe pie is the love of my life. Maybe I'm asexual, lots of people are and it's totally cool, no matter what our heteronormative, nuclear family-obsessed society wants us to think-"
"I don't buy it," Emerson cut in. "I mean I know people can be asexual…but I don't believe you, the Wizard of Loneliness, never wanted to be with anyone."
"Well…unless childhood sweethearts count-"
"They don't."
"Then no. I mean I…dated around. But it's hard to commit when you have this giant secret using up all your emotional bandwidth. So I never got to the going steady stage."
"'Goin' steady'…" he had chuckled. "What is this, an Archie comic? Talk like that makes me wonder if you ever made it past 'first base'."
Ned turned to look at him and Emerson was surprised to find he seemed more bemused than offended, as other young men might have been. "I'm not a monk, Emerson, I'm just awkward…"
The PI took him at his word, but it must have been too long since the Pie Maker 'dated around' if the mere idea of a half-naked woman turned his face beet red.
"Hey, somebody pass me the Spooky Easter Bunny," Olive said, sticking her arm out from behind the curtain.
Ned had been avoiding even looking in the direction of the makeshift changing room; his whole body wound tight with the tension of someone treading water. But he happened to be the closest to her and Emerson was too amused to rescue him. He watched as the Pie Maker basically walked backwards with the costume in hand, only glancing over his shoulder to make sure she could reach it.
Emerson felt a wave of sympathy roll over him, for all involved. But now was not the time to worry about this little triangle that seemed to be taking shape. Besides, any attempt to discuss it might just make it worse…
It was a hard thing to admit, sometimes, that feelings could change. Relationships were no different than hothouse flowers. They might grow, bloom bright, then die before their time, if left unattended.
Very few things were strong enough to last forever. Even for people with magic powers…
A/N: I couldn't resist slipping in a Wicked reference! Some part of me wants Olive literally dressed up as Glinda but that's too on the nose even for me lol. The Easter Bunny one is just a tenuous reference to Kristen as Easter in American Gods because I still miss that show damn it…
Anyway, thanks for reading! Or listening?! I had no idea there was an audio feature now and I kind of adore it x