A/N: Another fic for the A to Z Charlie whump challenge. This one is a missing scene for the last episode of season 5, so definitely beware of spoilers for that :)
Someone had taken an axe to his head. Charlie was sure that could be the possibly only reason for the splitting headache he was feeling.
That or he went on the worst binge of his life, just forgot all about the good parts. Surely though... he would be lying on something a bit more comfortable at least.
Charlie wasn't sure how much time had passed since his brain started working again. For a while all he was aware of was the pounding in his skull and darkness. Then from a distance, there was the feeling of danger and fear creeping in, slithering around like an angry snake.
It coiled inside his stomach, a feeling of growing nausea and tightness.
Something bad had happened.
Something that couldn't be fixed.
A loss... that hurt. It hurt more than the axe inside his head. Charlie recognized it as guilt and grief.
The feeling was stifling, choking him. He let out a groan and broke through the dark stillness.
The sound of his own voice startling him, causing his eyes to open.
Charlie blinked, brow furrowing in confusion and pain.
Above him an unfamiliar ceiling, the room he was in mostly veiled in darkness, broken only by a small lamp on the nearby desk.
He was lying on something cold and hard, his back throbbing as if bruised, limbs lying haphazardly.
'Where the hell am I?' Charlie thought blearily and forced his right arm to move. It was stiff and Charlie wondered how long he was lying in this position to feel the discomfort of it.
His right hand reached up, towards the source of the pain. Fingers clumsily touched throbbing skin and paused at the wetness they encountered instead.
Charlie hissed, eyes instantly squeezing shut tight. He felt the jagged wound on his forehead, just above his right eye, recognized the warm liquid as blood on his fingertips.
Charlie swallowed down the instant nausea that brought. He could smell the copper now. His skull felt like it was in pieces, though he was sure he would hardly be conscious if that was case.
He kept his eyes closed, right hand pressed against his eyes instead of the wound for fear that too much pressure would just make his brain explode. He was trying to breathe through his mouth, slow, measured breaths to stave off the growing panic.
Where was he?
What happened to him?
Was he alone?
That last question was soon to be answered as he caught the sound of footsteps. Or rather, clicking of shoes on the hard floor. Heading his way.
Charlie tensed, unsure if it was friend or foe... if he should call out for help or pretend being unconscious... whether he should try to get up and get ready for a fight...
Before he could decide on any of the actions - and it was evidence of how slow his mind still worked - the door to the room opened. The overhead lights were turned on and Charlie let out an involuntary hiss, the hand resting on his eyes turning into a shield.
The clicking of shoes stopped as there was a startled gasp.
"Sergeant Davis?!"
It took him a second to recognize the voice as belonging to Dr. Harvey, but when he did, some of the tension and panic left him. She was a friend. He was safe.
"Charlie..." she said from much closer and Charlie felt a petit hand wrap around his wrist, gently tugging it away.
"Dr. Harvey," he said, trying to plaster a smile on his face. He was pretty sure it came off crooked. 'Glad to see you,' he wanted to add but didn't. The overhead light was like a fist to the already throbbing face and he squinted, swallowing.
Alice moved so that she offered some shadow but she didn't seem inclined to turn the light off. Instead her hands brushed over Charlie's head, gently but persistently, as she was checking out the scalp wound, feeling around his skull for more bumps and bruises.
Of course she found a second one, on the back of Charlie's head.
"Bruising and minor swelling at the occipital lobe, most likely caused by the fall," Alice muttered seemingly to herself.
Charlie grimaced. Her probing only awakened hurts he wasn't aware of before but he wasn't about to snipe at her, too happy to have someone familiar around to be angry.
"What happn'd?" he asked, grunting when the words came out sounding half drunk.
"I was about to ask the same question," Alice said a bit disgruntled. "Based on what I see however, we can assume someone attacked you, bashing your head with..." she looked around, her brow turning up when she noticed the head support she used for the corpses. It lie on the floor, bloody. "That."
Charlie followed her look and grimaced as well.
"Like Ned?" he uttered, barely a whisper. Suddenly the feeling of guilt and grief made all the more sense.
Ned was dead... killed right at the police station while Charlie was off checking some false call. He could still picture his body on the floor, blood pooled around his head, eyes open and unseeing.
Charlie felt his throat tighten uncomfortably, as if there was a huge rock lodged inside it. As if the pain from his chest tried to escape that way but got stuck there.
"Do you know who attacked you Charlie?" Alice asked, taking a look around the room as if making sure whoever it was had left.
Charlie started to shake his head but thought better of it. Even lying down, the thought of moving it seemed scary. His vision kept blurring and the pattern on the ceiling kept changing every time he forced himself to actually look, trying to ignore the harsh light.
"I don't... don't remember," he said, his breathing picking up speed as the effort of trying to think made the headache seem worse, the nausea stronger. He kept blinking, trying to ignore the concerned look on Dr. Harvey's face. She seldom looked concerned unless it was an especially troublesome case.
"What's the last thing you do remember?"
Charlie sighed and closed his eyes.
"Charlie? Stay awake," Alice called out, her hand touching his face.
"Thinking," Charlie muttered, eyes still closed. Why was it so hard to put two straight thoughts together? He kept going back to the night of Ned's death, to the investigation, but he couldn't focus.
"Lawson," he blurted out. "I... I spoke to him... on the radio?" it came out more as a question than a statement.
"Well, what were you doing here? I doubt the attacker brought you to the morgue," Alice nudged him.
Charlie grimaced then started getting up. He couldn't think lying down and it didn't feel safe. He needed to figure out what happened and make sure whoever attacked him wasn't still around. He needed to call Lawson and God, why couldn't the room stop spinning?
"You should stay down, sergeant. While the wound looks mostly superficial, you will need an x-ray to make sure there is no skull fracture," Alice stated calmly, though she didn't force him back down.
"Need to move," Charlie grunted, half rolling to his right side to lean on his elbow and use it to get himself into a sitting position. It was harder than he expected and he had to pause mid movement, for a second unsure where was up and down.
Alice supported him with barely a sigh.
"As you wish," she said and helped to steady him as he scooted back and leaned against the cabinet.
She eyed him almost clinically and Charlie wondered if she was expecting him to get sick. He definitely felt like it was a possibility. Closing his eyes, Charlie took a moment to try and get his bearings, to allow his brain take in the fact it changed position.
"Based on your position, I'm assuming you were standing by the desk when you were attacked..." Alice stood up and Charlie heard some rustling.
"Hm. Curious."
"What?" Charlie opened his eyes carefully.
"Well, William Munro's clothes are still there. It doesn't look like the attacker took any evidence. It seems like the only reason he was here was to... hurt you?" Alice looked almost confused, her brow furrowed and Charlie was reminded of Blake, trying to figure out a mystery. Same look of disgruntlement marred his face when the answer eluded him.
"Why didn't he kill me?" Charlie wondered out loud.
Alice hmmed.
"Indeed. Why didn't he?" Then her brows went up. "So it was a man? Are you remembering something?"
Charlie started to shake his head but stopped with a hiss, his right hand reaching back up to the wound.
"Don't touch it," Alice reprimanded him instantly and before Charlie could grunt in annoyance, she was leaning back down and pushing something soft against the wound.
Charlie hissed, trying to pull back as the pain flared at the unexpected pressure.
"Here. Hold it in place while I call an ambulance," Alice navigated his hand to hold the fabric in place. Charlie wondered what could she have grabbed in such a short time, in a morgue no less. Better not ask, he thought. Then his brain caught up with what she actually said.
"What?"
She was already up and headed towards the door but turned back to him.
"Ambulance. I'll also need to inform Chief Superintendant Lawson about the attack. Please stay put and don't move around. Last thing you want is to get sick. This is now, after all, a crime scene."
With that she left the room. Charlie opened his mouth then closed it. She was right. He didn't much fancy a ride to the hospital, but his head was throbbing mercilessly and he knew he was in no shape to drive a car home. Though an ambulance was an overkill. He wished he was faster on the uptake and tried to convince Dr. Harvey to just put some bandaid on his head and be done with it.
Damn, but the smell of blood and that strange odour of the morgue just made his stomach turn. Breathing through his mouth, Charlie tried to tune out the fact how close he came to not need an ambulance at all. If the attacker put in a bit more force... or just kept hitting... Charlie could have very easily ended up on the table right there. Just like Ned.
His throat clenched at the thought and Charlie pressed the fabric harder against the wound, the pain in his head preferable to the thoughts plaguing his mind.
Closing his eyes, Charlie rested his head back against the cabinet, cringing as he felt the bruise on the back throbbing in rhythm with the pain in the front.
He tried to think about the last thing he remembered... about why he came to the morgue. How much time did he even lose?
He looked at the watch on his hand, squinting a moment to clear up the blurry face. It was half past four... and wouldn't that be more helpful if he knew when did he arrive?
He glanced up towards the desk above, the arm of the jacket hanging down. He must've came to check something... yes. He was looking for... for what?
Charlie grimaced, unable to remember. A blurry image permeated his mind, in which he had been standing right there, running hands through the jacket and its pockets, hearing a sound... then nothing. But he didn't know whether it was a memory or just his imagination trying to fill up the empty space. Not that it mattered much. In either case, he didn't see the face of his attacker.
It was funny how everyone seemed to arrive at the same time. Or perhaps he had just zoned out for a bit. When Charlie opened his eyes it was to see Alice Harvey squatting next to him, one hand clutching his wrist while she was looking at her watch.
"Ah, you're back with us. And if my hearing is correct, your ride just arrived too," she said and they both turned towards the door.
Charlie could hear footsteps... more than there should probably be.
"Watch it!" Boomed a familiar voice, followed by a mumbled apology.
"Dr. Harvey?"
It was Lawson, followed by two medics bringing a stretcher. They all pushed into the room, making it feel all too cramped. Behind them, Charlie could see a young constable peeking from the hallway.
Charlie swallowed and closed his eyes for a second, hoping this was just some hallucination. Really, the last thing he needed was being surrounded by people stepping over each other's feet.
"Superintendant Lawson. You got there fast," Alice commented with a smile, then gave Charlie's shoulder a gentle pat.
"Here's your patient, gentlemen," she turned to the medics, who were still trying to get past Lawson with the stretcher. Lawson shot one of them a disgruntled look and Charlie fleetingly wondered what that was about.
"Perhaps that could wait a minute?" The tone of Lawson's voice brook no argument. "That is if Davis isn't in danger of imminent death," he added questioningly to Alice, but casting a look at Charlie.
"Am fine Boss," Charlie said before she could answer for him. Alice sighed and stood up, crossing her arms and raising a brow.
"He will live. But I can't in good conscience allow him to leave without being checked out."
Lawson shook his head.
"Of course not. I wouldn't even imply that. I'll just need a minute to take his statement before these gentlemen whisk him away."
Alright, Charlie thought... one of those guys must've definitely done something. Perhaps stepped on Lawson's foot. Yeah, that would make sense... Charlie bit down a chuckle. He almost missed the grumbling of the men as they left the stretcher leaning against the wall and stepped back out into the hallway. What he didn't miss was the fact Lawson actually squatted down next to him so they were at eye level. His face turned into a pained grimace, but that was promptly brushed off by the familiar frown.
"Looks like we should start issuing helmets instead of police hats," Lawson commented then reached out, nudging Charlie's hand to show him the wound.
"Might be good idea," Charlie noted with a grimace of his own. Pulling the fabric off the wound caused some of the caked blood to pull at his skin too and he could feel a trickle of blood running freely down his right eyebrow.
If possible, Lawson's frown only deepened as he let out a disgruntled sound, then pointed for Charlie to put the pressure back on.
Charlie hissed as he did so, cutting himself off mid sound. It wouldn't do to act like a child in front of his superior. After all, the man had suffered much worse.
"What happened here Charlie?" Lawson asked and Charlie was taken aback at the soft tone. He was expecting barked orders and a request for a quick report.
He must've taken too long to go past the shock of that, because next thing he knew Lawson had a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, asking for attention. Looking worried.
Charlie blinked, using his free hand to brush the trickle of blood before it could reach his right eye, eliciting another grimace from Lawson.
"Uh... sorry Boss. I'm not sure."
That obviously wasn't what Lawson wanted to hear, but he still kept his voice low, as if bearing in mind Charlie's headache. Charlie was really grateful for that.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Charlie sighed.
Bits and pieces were coming back to him, but he wasn't sure if it was true memory or just his imagination. Not that it mattered.
"I... I came here, looking for something..."
"The jacket. I asked you to check it out, look for the notebook."
Charlie gave a careful nod.
Yes, he thought so. He glanced up towards the desk with the jacket. It was still there.
He frowned.
It wasn't making sense.
"Someone... someone came. I... heard a sound, then... then I woke up. On the floor. My head's killing me," he muttered with a huff, pulling one knee towards his chest and leaning over so he could rest his head on it.
He heard the sound of shuffling and it was Alice's voice next to him.
"Charlie? Is the headache worse?"
Charlie grunted, but then shook his head a little.
"Same."
"Alright. That's good. Can you look at me for a second please?"
Charlie didn't want to as it would require moving his head once again, but there was that gentle yet persuasive hand touching his cheek.
"Davis," Lawson's voice spoke gruffly, commandingly.
Charlie forced himself to look at Alice, gritting his teeth as the movement seemed to exacerbate his dizziness.
"Good. Now follow my finger with your eyes?"
She moved a digit in front of him and Charlie did what she asked, though he felt as if he was cross-eyed at one point. As soon as she told him to stop, he put his head back on his knee and closed his eyes.
"Hm. Perhaps it would be a good idea to let the sergeant be taken care of? Before you resume the interrogation?" Alice said, her voice a bit chilly.
Charlie cringed internally, forcing himself to raise his head once again.
"It's... it's fine. Just a bit dizzy. Ask away... boss," he said, swallowing hard.
"Just one more question," Lawson said. "Did you see your attacker?"
Charlie didn't even have to think about it. He now remembered hearing a sound, someone's breath... he turned and... nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"No boss. Sorry. I didn't... didn't see anyone."
Lawson nodded and stepped out into the hallway.
"Alright then. He's all yours."
Charlie wished he could've just zoned out for what followed. Being taken out of the morgue on a stretcher really wasn't something on his to do list. He muttered something to that avail as he was being carried out into the light of the day. Now he had both hands covering his face to protect his eyes from the sunlight.
"Well, it is still better to be carried out, breathing, than to be carried in stiff," one of the medics joked.
Charlie wished he could deck the man.
Not that it wasn't true, but the comment just brought to forefront the thought that Ned had been carried inside. Charlie was lucky indeed.
And while he was being settled in the back of the ambulance, Lawson started a meticulous search of the morgue along with the young constable, while sergeant Harris stood guard at the building entrance and made sure no one left it without identifying themselves.
Lawson knew that the perpetrator was most likely long gone. He still wasn't going to risk it.
While he searched the room where Charlie was attacked, Alice Harvey accompanied him with some of her thoughts, about the possible height or strength of the attacker. What boggled Lawson's mind though was the motivation.
Why attack Charlie of all people? If it was to stop him from finding the notebook... well. It was an awful lot of coincidences for the killer to arrive just after Charlie did. And did he even know about the notebook? Did he take it?
One thing was clear. This wasn't Gregan's doing, seeing as at the time of the attack the man was being handcuffed and thrown into the back of the police car. Someone else was out there, hurting and killing Lawson's men. And he didn't have a clue who or why.
Whoever was this person, he must've been holding a grudge against the police, Lawson was sure of that. But if that was the case... why didn't he kill Charlie? What was the damn point?
Lawson growled, smacking his hand on the desk harder than anticipated. Alice didn't jump though, just gave him a questioning look.
"Doesn't make any sense," he grumbled.
"It will," she assured him. "Everything makes sense... sooner or later."
He shot her a doubtful look.
The phone rang and this time it was Lawson who startled.
Alice picked it up and after a few words handed the phone off to Lawson.
"It's your niece. She wants to speak with you... urgently."
Lawson frowned, reaching for the cradle. He expected questions about Charlie perhaps. He didn't expect Rose telling him that Blake figured the whole thing out. Even less so the fact that the bastard decided to play the hero, once again, and rushed off into danger.
After reassuring his niece that he was on it and that she would better serve visiting Charlie and do not even dare to follow Blake's example, he hung up.
"I swear... if he's still alive, I'll kill him myself," he grumbled and without an explanation turned on his heels and left Alice Harvey alone.
She looked around the room, the mess on the floor and sighed.
It was never a dull day around.
Charlie wasn't a fan of hospitals under any circumstances. He felt fairly nervous even just visiting for a police matter. The place just felt wrong. Smelled bad too.
Sitting on the bed and letting some unknown doctor poke and prod at his head wound definitely wasn't helping to change his mind.
At least he survived the ride in the ambulance. Charlie felt queasy at the mere thought of it. Being jostled around on a narrow stretcher while one's vision was already swimming just wasn't the best thing ever. He really hoped he won't have to absolve such a ride ever again... or face the poor medic whose shoes he splashed anytime soon.
"Alright, I'm all done. You should try to rest, sergeant. The nurses will wake you up every few hours, and if everything looks fine in the morning, you'll be free to go home," the doctor announced happily.
Charlie grimaced, both at the much too cheery tone and the fact he was supposed to stay put for the night. Knowing that there was still a killer walking the streets with possible vendetta against police officers, he felt very much unnerved about being out of the loop.
"Doc, I'm fine, really. Can't you just let me go? I promise I'll head straight home." He tried to use his sensible tone, though it might've been a bit spoiled by the fact the image of the doctor kept blurring in front of him so Charlie had to resort to squinting.
"Uh huh. You would be much more convincing if you could keep looking at me, instead of the wall," the doctor noted with a smirk.
"I really need to go home," Charlie grumbled, frowning. "I promise, I'll stay in bed. But I need to know the others are alright..."
The doctor sighed, starting to sound a bit fed up.
"Be that as it may, I can't let you leave alone."
Charlie perked up a bit. Maybe he could actually wear him down? Preferably before he himself got too tired to argue.
"I can call a cab. I live at Dr. Blake's house... I'm sure he would know what to do if I'm in trouble."
Hearing that, the doctor snorted and mumbled something under his nose that sounded suspiciously like: "Sure, if he's sober enough."
"Excuse me?" Charlie asked, eyes narrowed, tone just a bit gruffer than usual. The man seemed to notice, because he cleared his voice and put on a slightly less sincere smile.
"Well, if Dr. Blake makes an appearance, I suppose you can leave with him. Even though it would be against my medical advice." At that, the doctor looked as if he swallowed a sour pill.
Charlie gave it a second of thought and looked around the room.
"Uh... can I make a phone call?" he asked, hoping to be able to get Blake on the phone and settle this issue.
"I'm sorry, sergeant. I think that would have to wait. The nearest phone is at the nurse's desk down the hall, and you need your rest," the man said with a smirk.
Charlie grunted, easing his aching head back on the pillow in defeat. To add insult to injury, the doctor who couldn't have been much older than Charlie himself, patted his leg patronizingly.
"Trust me, sergeant. You will be happy to have someone around if the nausea hits. At least you won't have to clean up the puke yourself. Unless you piss off the head nurse that is," the doctor chuckled and left.
Charlie could only glare at his retreating back and even that was making his nausea worse.
Perhaps closing his eyes for a minute would help. All he needed was a moment of peace, without the poking or well meaning but hella annoying doctor making his head hurt more.
Thinking of doctors... Charlie wondered where the hell was Blake. He was pretty sure Lawson must've spoken to him already, yet the man didn't stop by to ask his insipid questions. It wasn't like Charlie wanted attention. Hell, he was happy to have a moment of quiet, to pull himself together. But he would have appreciated the chance to leave the hospital and rest in his own bed. He also worried and that was perhaps even worse.
There was a killer on the loose and there was also Blake, with his tendency of rushing head first into danger. He would've preferred to see the man and find out what conclusions he drew from the insensibility of the attack on Charlie. Did he figure it out? Did he have enough presence of mind to call Lawson for backup if needed?
Charlie dearly hoped so.
He didn't want to even entertain the idea of someone else he cared about getting hurt.
With these troublesome thoughts, Charlie rested one arm across his face, trying to block out the light coming from the windows. Damn, but he could use one of Doc's hats right about now. Or a pair of sunglasses...
Perhaps closing his eyes for a few minutes would help. And then he could try and make his way down to the nurse's desk. Surely they would let him use the phone. All he needed was one call and he could leave...
He was half asleep, the heavy thoughts plaguing him finally retreating to the background, when someone touched his arm, effectively startling him out of the slumber.
He jerked away from the touch, eyes wide, one arm held up in a protective manner.
"Sorry, Charlie. I didn't mean to... It... it's me," the intruder mumbled and Charlie had to blink a few times until his vision cleared enough to note the red hair and the familiar face of his ex-lover. It took him several more to take control over his breathing and the fast beating heart.
"Rose..." he breathed out, half in relief, half exasperation. "God, don't... don't sneak up on me like that."
She gave him a doubtful look.
"I didn't mean to. I called your name before... uh. Before you got all jumpy."
Charlie had the urge to roll his eyes but thought better of it.
"After the last ... few... days," he frowned, trying to remember just how much time had passed since this all begun. It didn't matter. His head hurt too much for that. "You surprised I'm jumpy?"
She had the decency to look at least slightly remorseful, though that didn't last long. The remorse turned into annoyance and next thing he knew, she smacked his arm and glared at him.
"Ow! What-"
"You! Trying to wheedle an apology out of me, while it should be you apologizing!"
Charlie blinked, feeling that perhaps the doctor was right and his brain got scrambled just a bit more than he thought.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Scaring me like that! When uncle Matthew called and Lucien told me you were hurt, all I could think of was- " she bit off what was surely to be Ned's name, her voice suddenly choked.
Before Charlie could react, she had wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a somehow angry feeling hug.
"God Charlie... stop doing that."
Charlie wanted to protest that he wasn't doing anything, but had a feeling that would only earn him another angry smack. So he let Rose finish the hug and calm herself. He even pretended not to hear the sniff as she straightened, or the shaky breath she took to clear her voice.
"Doing what?" he asked finally and Rose puckered her nose in a way that was at the same time endearing and frustrating.
"Making me think you're dead."
Charlie blinked, not really expecting that.
"Oh."
She rolled her eyes, clearly not expecting an argument and wishing to put the issue behind. She grimaced and reached out to run her fingers gently near the wound, then down Charlie's cheek.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly and Charlie fought back an urge to take hold of that hand and put a kiss on it. There were moments when he totally forgot why they had broken up. Or why they should stay broken up, he thought.
"Only when I try to think," he replied to her question with a lopsided grin.
If nothing else, it enticed a chuckle from her, before she turned serious and pulled the hand away. Charlie sighed, already missing the caress. He shouldn't have, he knew. But he was hurting and tired and emotionally spent. He was craving some comfort.
"What happened, Charlie?"
"That's... a good question," Charlie said with a sigh, running a hand over his forehead, hissing as it touched a sore spot. "Last thing I remember I was looking through Munro's clothes for the notebook-"
Rose seemed startled at that, her cheeks paling a bit, eyes widening. Charlie almost missed it, but he couldn't miss Rose averting her eyes all of a sudden.
Charlie frowned, his brain trying to work out what that could mean, but it was like swimming through molasses. He gave up and hoped his beaten up look would be enough for Rose to come out with the truth.
"What is it?"
It was Rose who sighed next.
"The notebook. I ... well, not I. But Blake. He... might've taken it."
Charlie blinked, unsure if he heard right. For some reason his headache just seemed to suddenly kick up a notch.
"Blake did what?" It was proof of how long he had spent in the presence of the man that the idea of him taking evidence willy-nilly didn't even surprise him all that much. He wanted to shout at the stupidity of those actions, wanted to rant about the broken chain of evidence and Blake once again messing with things he had no business messing with... but that all required too much energy and would be probably too loud for his head. There was also the little fact that if Blake had the notebook...
"The killer doesn't have it," Charlie muttered.
Rose raised an eyebrow, looking at him questioningly when she realized what he said.
"He... the attacker. He wanted that notebook! Oh my god, you could've died and all for nothing-" her voice shook and Charlie reached out automatically grabbing her hand.
"Hey. It's ... okay. He didn't get the notebook and I'm fine. All good." He wasn't sure why he was reassuring her when he should've been pissed, but he supposed this was easier. Also if he knew Blake... Rose was quite innocent in the matter.
She sighed and seemed to calm herself, but at the same time her face contorted into some sort of a grimace that made Charlie's stomach flutter anew.
"Rose? You do have the notebook, right?"
"What?" she looked at him distractedly. "Oh, yes. Of course. Lucien took it home... we were just looking through it, trying to figure out the code when uncle Matthew called about you."
"Code?" Charlie blinked. The idea that the notebook wasn't clear cut evidence, that it would have to be deciphered just made him groan in displeasure. It looked like the case wasn't much closer to solving.
"We figured it out, Charlie. The code... it was a police code for the radio... the killer was listening on to you. That's how he figured you were going to the morgue... how he kept a step ahead of all of us."
Charlie stared at her with disbelief.
The radio.
It was the damn radio the whole time? The one he and Lawson used so freely to discuss every bloody detail of the case and their next steps?
He felt physically ill and didn't know whether it was the concussion or the simple knowledge that they screwed up.
"Charlie? You... do you need me to call the nurse?" Rose asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Huh?"
"You're a bit... pasty," she said carefully.
Charlie swallowed, thinking about the offer only for a second. He shook his head ever so slightly.
"Uh... no. It's fine."
"If you're sure," Rose said a bit doubtfully, then looked around. "Do you want a glass of water at least?"
Charlie wasn't sure if that would help or not. But he felt a bit parched and the idea of the cool liquid sounded enticing. As long as it didn't decide to make a comeback.
"Yeah, I guess," he said hesitantly. Rose perked up, looking happy to be able to help at least. Or perhaps she just wanted to postpone the next barrage of questions she knew were coming.
Charlie took the proffered glass with water, hoping he wouldn't spill any of it. He was a bit disappointed when he felt the water was lukewarm instead of icy... usually, if he felt nauseous or peaky, cold was the way to go. The icier the better. He took only a few careful sips, then handed the glass back to Rose.
She seemed to take her sweet time returning it to its place, while she was worrying at her bottom lip and Charlie felt his brow furrow in reaction. Something wasn't right.
He knew her. Well... as much as it was possible to know a woman these days. Rose had her quirks and body language that often told him more than her words. And right now, they were all screaming in nervous, barely contained energy. She wanted to be somewhere else.
"Rose?" he spoke, trying to keep his voice calm and soft. He wanted her to look at him, so he could properly read her face, but then realized that wouldn't be as easy as he thought. Her face blurred a bit and Charlie felt a hot wave rush over him. He had to close his eyes for a moment to make sure the water stayed down and pray that the room stopped moving.
He felt her warm hand squeeze his own palm and after a moment, he risked a peak.
The world was mostly still, if a bit blurry around the edges. That was... good. And he seemed to have her full attention. Even better. Now all he needed was to ask the right question.
"Did you figure it out?"
Fortunately, he didn't have to specify. Rose understood, if her sigh was anything to go by.
"Yeah. We actually did."
He waited for a few more seconds but she seemed hesitant.
"Well?"
Rose looked away, then back at him, having made up her mind. Then she told him. About the dates... about Blake figuring out it was all just some sick plot to get revenge on him. About the gravestones and cemetery and how that must've been the clue.
That the killer was most likely Norman Baker.
Charlie did a double take at the name, for a second drawing a blank. Then Rose mentioned the name of the daughters and it all clicked. It was one of the first cases he worked with Blake... back when Mattie was still around and no one really trusted him. Back when he didn't trust anyone either.
It was a bloody horrible case, if only for the consequences on the family, or what was left behind. A daughter heading to prison, a heartbroken father who already lost too much.
He couldn't reconcile himself with the fact that same heartbroken father might've been the cause of Ned's death though... or Munro's for that matter. It felt ridiculous and farfetched and bloody stupid. At the same time though... who would have more of a reason to hate Blake and the police than a father losing his daughters?
Any sympathy he could feel towards the man was washed away with a single thought of Ned however. The kid didn't deserve the fate he had. Hell... Munro didn't deserve to die, however big of a bastard he might've been in the past.
All of these thoughts however vanished when his brain caught up with what was Rose telling him.
The cemetery.
Blake rushing off like a bloody hero... alone and without backup. Rose calling Lawson to let him know at least...
Charlie's vision blurred and he had to close his eyes for a moment, but all he saw was Ned's body, crumpled on the floor right in front of his desk.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he looked at Rose. She stopped talking, instead she was watching him with a frown on her face.
He wanted to brush it off, even reached out with his hand but let it fall back down, realizing it was a foolish effort.
"Charlie? What's wrong?"
"I need to go," he mumbled and clumsily sat up. He wavered a bit and might've toppled over if not for Rose grabbing his shoulders and steadying him.
"Go where? I don't think you should be going anywhere," Rose protested and tried to push him back down, but Charlie resisted. He was sitting up and he even managed to swing his legs down to the floor. All he needed now was for the room to settle down and some clothes. Oh, and perhaps for Rose to help him, instead of trying to wrestle him back into bed. Yes, that would be helpful, Charlie thought with a groan.
"Rose," he spoke, once he was sure his voice was steadier than the room. That at least got her attention. Satisfied, Charlie tried to look her straight in the eyes. That was a bit more of a challenge, because she either kept swaying slightly or acquired another set of eyes in the last few minutes. Perhaps focusing on that perky nose would be easier.
"Can you help me?"
Rose gave him an exasperated sigh.
"I'm trying, you dumbass. Just lie back down, will you? Before a nurse comes in and thinks we are doing something entirely inappropriate."
Charlie blinked, then snorted. Was Rose insinuating what he thought? He decided not to ask out loud however, being compos mentis enough to realize it wouldn't end well for him.
"You have your car?"
Her exasperation seemed to only grow stronger as she seemed to realize where he was going with it.
She let go of his shoulders and instead crossed her arms over her chest.
"I do, but that's beside the point."
Charlie grasped the edges of the bed, making sure he wasn't swaying and straightened his back. There. While his head still thumped in rhythm with his heart, the room finally settled. Enough for him to note Rose's posture.
He sighed, looking around the room slowly.
"What on earth are you looking for?" Rose asked, losing patience.
"Clothes," Charlie muttered. "Not leaving bare assed," he added.
Rose raised a brow, her lips twitching.
"Well, you can try I suppose," she said provocatively and Charlie glanced at her, taken aback.
Rose sighed.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked, seemingly humouring him for a second.
"Cemetery."
Rose huffed.
"Uncle Matthew said to stay put. I'm sure he meant you as well."
Charlie shrugged, resuming his search for clothes.
"He didn't talk to me," Charlie muttered, noticing a small closet in the corner of the room. Only problem was he needed to get up to reach it.
"Uh... could you look in there?" he asked somehow sheepishly.
Rose stood in place, unmoving.
"You want to head out to the cemetery but can't make it across the room?"
Charlie huffed. Fine. If she wanted it like that, he would do it himself.
"You're no help at all," he stated poutingly, then carefully stood. The ruckus inside his skull turned up a notch and the gravity seemed to blink out minutely. But he had a strong grip on the bed still and somehow managed not to topple over. When he opened his eyes, Rose was standing so close he could smell the shampoo in her hair and feel the puffs of her breath on his face.
For a moment they were just staring at each other and Charlie knew that if he leaned over just a bit, he could kiss her. He also knew if he leaned over, he most likely wouldn't be able to stop and topple over her ungraciously.
Her pupils widened for a second, then her eyes narrowed and the frown was back on her face.
"You can't even stand straight," she muttered, though it didn't have such a burn that he expected.
"Your presence makes me dizzy," Charlie said, putting on a sappy smile.
She gave an exasperated grunt, smacking him on the shoulder lightly. He wavered and she grabbed for him.
"I knew you cared," he said.
Rose just sighed.
"What do you think you'll accomplish?" she asked and let go of him as he pushed away from the bed and took a step to the side, as if trying to create a space between them.
"Need to make sure they are safe," Charlie said, the question bringing him out from the momentary obfuscation. Reminding him what was really at stake. Determinedly, he walked towards the closet, hoping his gait wasn't as unsteady as he felt.
Fortune at least was on his side as his clothes lay inside. He took them out and turned back towards Rose. She stood in place, arms crossed over her chest, her face set in stone. Charlie cringed but decided it will be easier to just go ahead and hope she wouldn't let him hung dry. So he ever so carefully balanced himself against the bed and started putting on his pants.
Under any other circumstances he might've protested Rose's surreptitious gaze, but right now he didn't want to alienate her.
"I'm sure uncle Matthew got there in time. And he definitely didn't go unarmed," Rose spoke.
"I hope so," Charlie muttered, grunting as his foot caught on the pant leg. "But Baker already killed two people. And who knows what the Doc will do if Jean is in danger."
"Exactly! You don't know what we are heading into!"
Charlie looked up at that.
"We?"
Rose's eyes widened.
"What, you thought I would just give you the keys to my car and wait here like an obedient girlfriend?!" she exclaimed, and there was so much to unpack in that one sentence, but Charlie was caught on the way her red hair seemed to flare up in indignation. Or perhaps it was just his vision going blurry.
Charlie stared at her, unable to answer.
She huffed.
"Your brain must've gotten scrambled more than I thought."
"My brain is fine," Charlie answered with a frown, then started the attempt to extricate himself from the measly hospital gown.
It took a moment but a pair of hands helped and Charlie was once again face to face with Rose.
"Are you even allowed to leave?" she asked, one brow raised in a challenge.
"Of course," Charlie fibbed. "I was just waiting for my ride," he added with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes.
"Don't play poker, Charlie. You'll lose," she advised him but didn't make another attempt to stop him. "Do I call the nurse to get your paperwork or something?"
Charlie shook his head.
"Nuh uh... would take too long," he muttered, pretty sure his doctor would take an extra sweet time just to try and talk him out of going. Charlie wasn't sure he would be able to convince Rose to take him to the cemetery by then, and he definitely knew that whatever was happening with Blake and Baker would be over anyway. He didn't want to lose time with arguing.
"So what, are you planning on sneaking out of here? Really?" Rose looked at him, seeming taken aback, maybe even a bit impressed. Or perhaps it was just disbelief marring her face.
Charlie fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, giving a small nod.
"Charlie!" she exclaimed and he had to pause and look at her.
"What?"
"You can't just sneak off! They'll be looking for you and the nurses can get in trouble as well-"
Charlie sighed, rubbing his right eye in an attempt to push back the growing headache. Was Rose's voice always this shrill? Or was it the ringing inside his ears?
"Uh... I can leave a note?" he said uncertainly. "I'll call them as soon as we know everyone's safe," he stated a bit more surely.
Rose still didn't look convinced and Charlie thought she might just turn around and leave without him. Maybe it would be for the best, a tiny part of his brain supplied, but then the picture of Ned's lifeless body sprung up and Charlie had to shake that off.
No. He wouldn't let Rose go off alone. And he was sure that the moment she left, she would be heading over to the cemetery herself. It didn't matter that she didn't work for the Courier anymore. This was her family and friends in danger.
Charlie had a brief second wondering why did she come to visit him first, why she didn't go follow Blake or Lawson straight away. Was she really more worried about him than her uncle and Jean? It seemed farfetched to him, so he let the thought slide. Now he needed to find a piece of paper and a pen, so that they could leave, before one of the nurses actually popped in to check on him.
"Damn," Charlie muttered, looking around the room. There was nothing he could use.
"What's the matter?" Rose asked, taking a step towards him. A flash of worry on her face that made Charlie's heart jolt.
"No pen or paper," he mumbled, his face colouring a bit for making her worry.
She let out an exasperated sigh, muttering something under her breath that he didn't catch, because her face was turned down, already rummaging through her purse. She was handing him a notepad and pencil before he finished a thought about purses coming in handy on occasion.
He thanked her and managed a somehow loopy scribble. He pulled the sheet out of the pad and put it on the pillow, clear in view, then handed her the notebook and pencil back. He hoped the nurse would be able to read it, though if they managed the typical doctor scribble, this should be a piece of cake.
"What now?" Rose asked, her tone and posture clearly saying she was just humouring him and didn't believe they would make it out unnoticed.
"Let's go?" Charlie said, offering her his arm like a proper gentleman. In truth it was as much for his own sake as for pretence. He was pretty sure that keeping his gait straight all the way out of the hospital might be more of an issue than he wanted to admit.
Rose accepted the arm with a sigh, most likely coming to the same conclusion.
Leaving the hospital was surprisingly easy.
Rose kept up a conversation, putting on a smile and acting casual every time they passed someone in the corridor. While Charlie's head was thumping angrily, the band aid covered the gash on his temple well enough and he had no other visible bruises. It also helped that several nurses were busy with trying to settle an agitated patient a few rooms down from Charlie's.
Still, he let out of a breath of relief once he was outside the building, leaning against the wall, trying to look casual, while Rose went to bring up the car. Now he just needed to make sure he wouldn't get sick inside said car, or Rose would never ever help him out again, he was sure of that.
This was a stupid idea.
What on earth was he trying to accomplish?
The doctor's teasing words about Charlie enjoying the room service so he wouldn't have to clean up his puke rang loud and clear in his head, while Rose was taking another wild turn.
Perhaps it wasn't all that wild, Charlie couldn't tell. His eyes were squeezed shut, one hand clinging to the car door with all his might, trying to keep him in the seat.
"Do you have a license?" he grunted out after one turn that made him wish he had decided to just walk the distance. His stomach rolled and he had to open his eyes, because he needed to see the world hadn't toppled down and over, like his senses were telling him.
"Of course I do! Oh come on, I'm barely over the speed limit!" Rose exclaimed, though she slowed down quickly when she cast him a glance and saw how pale he was.
"You okay?" she asked in a softer tone.
Charlie swallowed but was afraid to open his mouth to answer. He decided that staring straight ahead might possibly stop the rollercoaster.
"Charlie?" Rose asked again.
He grunted, waving his hand in a so-so sign.
Rose rolled down the window on her side and the wave of fresh air seemed to help at least a bit.
"I knew you should've stayed put," she muttered, annoyed. She looked on the verge of turning the car, but they could already see the top of the chapel, indicating the cemetery was close.
"Just car sick," Charlie managed to say, gritting his teeth afterwards. "We close," he added for good measure, trying to move Rose's attention to the real matter.
She nodded and the car continued on its track, straight ahead.
They didn't park right in front of the cemetery, because there already was a police car. Lawson's car if Charlie wasn't mistaken. And behind it was Blake's.
Both cars were empty.
Charlie's stomach rolled, just as Rose drove a bit farther down the road and pulled the car to park on the side of the road. He was thankful when the car's movement ceased, though he would've been even more grateful if the world around him settled as well.
Gritting his teeth, he opened the door on his side, taking in a few steadying breaths, while he heard Rose rummaging in the back.
He was about to ask what was she doing, when he spotted movement at the cemetery entrance.
First thing he identified was an uniform clad figure with the familiar limp, leading a handcuffed man towards the car.
Charlie's breath caught for a second, because he couldn't see anyone else... but then Lawson turned his head, obviously aiming his words towards someone behind.
Rose stopped rummaging and Charlie heard the click of the door being closed. Then he only saw her moving ahead, down the street hurriedly. He cursed and pushed himself out of the car, taking only a second to right himself as the world tilted.
Damn Rose... and damn his own stupidity for dragging her into this. Of course he couldn't keep her out of harm's way if it came to it... he couldn't even keep up withher.
His only saving grace was the fact that the danger seemed to be over and all Rose was rushing towards was her uncle's wrath.
Charlie let out a sigh when he finally saw Blake and Jean, walking arm in arm. Unharmed.
Now all he needed was to get through what he undoubtedly knew was a scolding from his superior officer. And perhaps afterwards, he could rest in his own bed, with the knowledge that Ned and Munro's killer is behind the bars and his loved ones were safe.
Jean felt as if she had been struck by electricity. Her heart was thumping harshly inside her chest, which felt awfully tight. It was as if her blood itself was vibrating, finally awakening to the fact she had just faced down the barrel of a gun that most likely killed William Munro. There was a bullet in the chamber that was supposed to end up in Lucien Blake, or perhaps it had her own name on it.
She couldn't be sure how far Norman Baker would have taken it, but seeing as he had no trouble at all to kill two people, she supposed one more wouldn't really have mattered to him.
Despite knowing that, she did not regret stepping in front of Lucien, even though he might not have been all that appreciative of the fact once the dust settled. She could feel it in the way he pulled her close to his body as they followed Matthew and Baker towards the exit. His frame seemed as firm and steady as ever, but she could feel the slightest of tremble running under his skin where their hands touched.
She squeezed his palm and he looked at her with warmth and love. Though there was regret lurking behind those eyes as well, but she wowed to make sure it would pass. They both survived after all.
She wanted to stop on the spot and just bury herself in his embrace, to drive home and forget any part of this horrible day. But she knew it most likely won't be possible.
"I will need you both to follow to the station and give your statements," Matthew turned back to them once Norman was pressed against the car.
Jean sighed, but gave a nod. Lucien took in a breath, seemingly ready to protest on her behalf perhaps, when there was a click and a flash of light.
Jean blinked, startled.
Matthew uttered a curse as he swiftly opened the car door and pushed Baker in.
"You have to be kidding me," Jean thought she heard him say before she even looked towards the source of the light.
Rose was there, standing in the middle of the street, with her camera. And several meters behind her was Charlie, trying to catch up to her with a grimace on his face and a stark white bandaid covering his right temple.
Jean had no clue what was going on, but she heard Lucien sigh tiredly and looked at him.
"What on earth happened to Charlie now?" she asked, feeling the exasperation taking over her previous shock. She left the house for only a few hours and it seemed like everyone she knew managed to get into some trouble.
"It's a long-" story, Lucien obviously wanted to say, but stopped himself, a peculiar look on his face.
"Lucien?"
He snorted.
"Well, perhaps not such a long story after all. Charlie got an unfortunate encounter with Norman here before he came after you it seems. He should be just fine though. Good enough to come chasing after us," he added with a twitch of his lips.
Lawson grumbled something under his breath, closing the door on his car and making sure Baker had no way of escape, before turning towards his niece.
Rose walked up towards them, the camera lowered as she gave Jean and Blake a genuinely relieved smile.
"Jean! I'm so glad you're alright," she said, giving her a quick hug.
"What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?" came from Lawson, who turned towards his niece with a fierce glare. Rose pulled back from the hug and Jean spotted a flash of grimace on her face. She obviously knew what was coming and she steeled herself for the fallout, before turning towards Lawson.
"I took only one picture, uncle Matthew. Don't worry, you'll look just spiffing on it," she said cheekily and Jean bit down an amused snort. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rose still had her spunk.
"I don't care about the bloody photo!" Matthew almost spluttered, taking a step forward, but changing his mind as Charlie just reached them.
"Davis. Of course! I won't even ask whose idiotic idea it was to come here," Lawson said, though it was clear from the glare he shot at Rose he knew who it was.
"Actually," Charlie cleared his throat, throwing a somehow apologetic look at his superior. "Rose tried to stop me," he said, his eyes dodging Lawson's look, instead focusing on the man in the car.
"What?" Lawson asked, thrown for a loop, while Rose rolled her eyes.
"Please. I would have come myself anyway," she muttered, earning a warning glance. Lawson pointed a warning finger at her, opened his mouth, obviously wanting to give them a piece of his mind, but then he didn't.
Jean wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the beaten up look Charlie was giving him, Rose's stance that made it clear she wouldn't take anything said in the moment into account, or the fact there was a killer sitting in the back of the police car.
In the end Lawson just let out a rather irritated sounding sigh and with a shake of his head let his hand fall.
"Get the hell out of my sight, both of you. I don't have the time or energy to deal with you right now."
The later was heavily implied as he dismissed both Rose and Charlie and turned to Blake, who was watching them with mild amusement.
"I will see you two at the station, yes?"
Blake grimaced, shooting a questioning glance at Jean and she felt him squeeze her hand.
"We will be there, Matthew," she said tiredly. Even though she wanted to go home, she knew the sooner they give their statement, the sooner they can put all of this behind. And Ned's family as well.
Lawson nodded, pretending to ignore the two young miscreants that went against his orders. He sat behind the wheel and drove off, leaving Charlie and Rose standing in the dust with somehow perplexed looks on their faces.
It was amusing and Jean forced down a chuckle. She had a feeling that if she started to laugh, it would quickly turn into tears as her body was slowly coming out of the numbness.
"So... you two are alright?" Charlie asked, somehow awkwardly and Jean heard Lucien snort, giving her hand another squeeze before letting go momentarily.
"It seems so. Now really, whose bright idea was it to come here?" he shot a pointed glance at Rose, but she just shrugged, staying silent.
Charlie blushed lightly and Blake raised a brow.
"Really Charlie? I thought you would be the one not rushing into a situation heedlessly..."
"I think it's the head wound. Messed up his self preservation instinct," Rose chided in with a grin, ignoring Charlie's glare. It would have been more impressive if he hadn't stumbled a bit upon turning towards her.
Blake crossed the distance between them, putting a hand on his shoulder, inspecting the bandage.
"Any stitches?" he asked as he looked at the bruise peeking out from under the bandage. Charlie averted his eyes.
"A few," he muttered, trying to pull his head back when Blake gently grasped Charlie's chin to tilt his head for a proper look.
Jean could see Charlie's shoulders tensed and Lucien frowned, but let go. Though it was clear he found it suspicious.
"You made it here pretty fast," Lucien said nonchalantly, aiming his look at Rose for some reason. Jean noted that Rose bit at her bottom lip and her eyes also strayed from Blake's. "Based on what Matthew told me I thought you would be admitted at least for the night."
Now Lucien looked back at Charlie, head tilted questioningly.
To Jean it looked a lot like a parent catching the child with their hand in the cookie jar... balancing on the top of the cupboard precariously.
"I thought you might be in trouble," Charlie said with a sigh, running a hand over his brow. It was clear he was tired and most likely hurting, but at the same time Jean noted a certain stubbornness in his tone and she saw that Rose stepped closer, looking protective. It was an odd sight and Blake must've thought so too, because he shook his head with a sigh.
"Did you leave AMA?"
Charlie blinked at him, confused.
"Against medical advice," Blake elaborated.
"Not exactly," Charlie said and Blake gave an exasperated sigh.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"The doc would've let me go home if someone had picked me up. So technically... I was allowed to leave with Rose. We just... didn't have time for the paperwork," Charlie added the last sentence under his breath so Jean almost didn't hear.
Blake snorted in disbelief.
"You ran away from the hospital?" He shook his head, while Charlie shot him an offended glare.
"Yeah. What about it?"
"Nothing," Blake said, though Jean saw the edges of his lips quirking in amusement. "I just didn't expect that."
"Well, guess someone had a bad influence on me."
Rose snorted.
"Multiple someone's," she added with a smirk and glint in her eyes.
Charlie shrugged, his shoulders slumping a bit. It was clear his energy was going out fast and he looked as if he wanted nothing else but have something to lean against. Jean wanted to grab his arm and escort him towards the nearest car, make sure he didn't fall, but Lucien beat her to it. He put his arm around Charlie's shoulders, turning him back towards Rose's car parked down the street as he started to walk them that way.
"Alright. Rose, I'm sure you have enough gas in the car to give Charlie one more ride?"
Rose nodded, trotting behind them with a curious look, Jean following as well.
"Splendid. In that case, you can drive Charlie back to the hospital-"
"I'm not going back, Doc!" Charlie protested, stopping mid stride stubbornly.
"Come on, Charlie. At the least, you need to let the good employees know you've gone on your own accord, so that they won't look for you around the hospital," Blake chided gently.
"I left a note," Charlie muttered, standing his place.
Blake sighed.
"Alright then. I suppose a call from me should at least settle some ruffled feathers for today. I'll drive you back tomorrow myself to take care of the paperwork in any case." Blake's tone didn't leave room for argument this time, but Charlie didn't protest, most likely finding the arrangement plausible.
"Great," Blake exclaimed, giving Charlie's chest a pat and getting them moving again towards the car.
Rose and Jean exchanged amused glances, catching sight of Charlie's grimace.
"Now, Rose will take you home. I do believe she will be more than happy to stick around until me and Jean are done with our statements, right Rose?" Blake asked, turning back to Rose, catching her in surprise.
"Uh... yes. Sure," she muttered.
"Wonderful. It wouldn't do for us to return after such an arduous day just to find Charlie at the bottom of the stairs, knocked out."
"Doc," Charlie moaned.
"Don't tell me you mind such nice company," Blake said with a smirk and Charlie blinked. What could he say to that after all?
They reached the car and Charlie was soon settled in the passenger seat, looking slightly dumbfounded and partially grey, most likely from the thought of another car drive. Blake gave Rose a pointed look as she was rounding the car to get into the driver seat, pausing her for a moment. Jean wasn't sure what he said, because he kept his voice low, but Rose listened and gave a serious nod, with a smile.
"Alright. We will see you two in a bit then," Blake said, clapping on the top of the car as Rose settled on her seat. Charlie winced at the sound, but didn't protest, just gave them a shaky wave as the engine started. Then he very clearly grabbed for the dashboard as Rose took off.
"Let's hope he will survive the ride without getting sick in the car. I'd hate to find Rose had killed him on the way home," Blake commented dryly and this time Jean didn't even try to stop the laughter.
Finally, he was home. About time too. Charlie wasn't sure he could've endured Rose's driving a minute longer. While under different circumstances it would have been a perfectly fine ride, the concussion and any kind of fast movement made for a bad combination. Not to mention the sounds and vibration of the car. He was aware of Rose throwing him frequent looks, but at least she stopped pestering him with questions about whether she should stop the car or not, as Charlie's colour kept changing at every curve.
"Home sweet home," Rose said almost cheerfully once she killed the engine.
Charlie let out a relieved sigh and gave the smallest of nods.
"At least until Lawson arrives," he muttered. Rose cringed.
"Let's hope he will stay at the station quite a bit longer," she said with a grimace. Charlie shot her a look, his shoulders sagging.
"Sorry," he mumbled, head downcast.
Rose paused with her hand on the car door handle.
"What?"
"For getting you in trouble... with Lawson."
Rose blinked, then rolled her eyes with a smirk.
"Please. I could handle uncle Matthew since I was three. I'm just glad no one got hurt again and that it's all over." Rose paused, her lips curling up. "Besides... I think I got a photo that just might get me a job."
Charlie stared at her, unsure what to think. In the past, he might've felt a tingle of anger, thinking Rose did all this just to get her job back. But that wasn't the truth, not now. While yes, she will most likely use the situation to her advantage... she was just genuinely trying to help. Besides... it was him who decided to rush head first to the cemetery, not her. That told him more than anything how her priorities had changed. Or maybe it were his own.
But it was too much thinking. There was a sharp throb in his right temple and his stomach rolled. Charlie grimaced, reaching up, trying to rub away the pain, but his touch only made it worse.
Slim fingers curled around his wrist and gently tugged the hand down.
"Come on, let's get you inside."
Charlie wanted to say something, perhaps say he was fine and didn't need to be coddled, but Rose was giving him a look of concern and for the moment all he felt was warmth inside his chest.
"Yeah. That's... that's fine," he said and was rewarded by a smile.
He waited until Rose exited the car to open the door on his side, hoping to hide his grimace. He managed to get out of the car, but as soon as he straightened, the world tilted oddly. He leaned against the car momentarily closing his eyes. They shot open when he felt an arm circle around his waist.
"Easy. Come on, you can lean on me."
Charlie blinked, slightly taken aback by the words but he didn't have time to ponder their depth as Rose was tugging his arm over her shoulder.
While he refused to lean on her with all his weight, he had to admit that having a support by his side wasn't such a bad idea. Especially as the strong sunlight made him squint and the ground seemed to have changed into quicksand. Charlie let his eyes close to mere slits, letting himself be led by Rose. What he lacked in sight and stability, he made up in smell as the scent of her shampoo and the familiar perfume permeated the air. Charlie might've stumbled before reaching the front door, but for once he wasn't sure if it was the concussion or the fluttering feeling inside his stomach as he felt Rose's grip around his waist tighten.
She grunted a bit then started patting down his pockets. While Charlie didn't mind, it was a bit strange, especially seeing as they had broken up several weeks ago.
"Uh... Rose?"
"Oh please, get your head out of the gutter," Rose snorted as she saw the most likely flushed look on his face, although he could've sworn her cheeks turned a bit pink as well. "I'm looking for the house keys," she added, at the same moment her hand encountered what she was looking for.
"Could've just asked," Charlie said, his lips twitching.
Rose ignored him in lieu of unlocking the door. It wasn't often that the Blake house had to be locked, after all, despite the growing crime rates in Ballarat, this was still a safe town. Mostly... unless there was a killer out for Blake's blood of course.
Entering the house, Charlie let out a sigh of relief. He could feel the call of his bed, the chance to lie down and sleep away the day the most enticing of things. He almost forgot Rose's presence as he headed towards the stairs. The stairs which looked rather daunting. Yet they promised sweet rest.
"Whoa. Where you rushing?" Rose asked, following his slightly drunken looking gait, her hand pausing him before he could actually try to scale the stairs.
"My bed?" Charlie said, a bit taken aback by the question or her continuing presence.
Rose shook her head.
"No. Come on, couch."
"What? Why?" he asked dumbly even as she was steering him towards the living room.
"Blake asked me to keep an eye on you. I'm not doing that in your bedroom..." she actually flushed at that and Charlie would have thought it funny, even endearing, if not for the fact she was keeping him from sweet, sweet sleep.
"What's wrong with my bedroom?" Charlie asked, confused.
"For one, it's upstairs. I don't want you falling down."
"I can walk," Charlie retorted a bit affronted.
Rose ignored that and Charlie frowned.
"What's the second reason?" he asked, thinking himself clever but getting the same silent treatment.
Rose shrugged, steering him towards the couch. Charlie wanted to protest, but the moment he saw the couch, all the fight went out of him. His legs led him towards it with surprising speed, then became two sticks of jelly as he sunk down onto the cushions with a grunt. His head gave a throb of protest and he cursed under his breath. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and lay his head in his palms, hoping the slight pressure against his eyes might drive off the headache. All it accomplished was make his eyes throb in unison, but on the positive note, with his eyes closed the room stopped spinning.
He could hear Rose moving out of the room, into the kitchen. He cringed when something clinked too loudly, but didn't dare looking up to find out what it was. He focused on his breathing and the fact he was sitting. Nothing was moving, it was all just in his head, he kept repeating to himself.
It worked well, until the couch dipped and he was jolted out of the serenity by something cold nudging at his arm.
Startled, he raised his head, eyes wide as he pulled back.
"Bloody hell Rose... warn a guy," he uttered when he realized it was his ex-girlfriend, handing him a bag of ice.
"Don't tell me you already forgot I drove you here," she said, trying to sound huffy, but there was still a tone of underlying concern.
Charlie sighed and looked at the ice bag questioningly.
"What's that for?"
"Your head, dumbass," Rose said, barely suppressing a roll of her eyes.
Charlie took the bag and somehow hesitantly pressed it against the right side of his head, careful not to put it right on the wound. He hissed at the cold and the pain, but knew it would be shortly followed by gracious numbness.
"Better?" Rose asked with a small grin and Charlie grunted in reply, giving a slight nod.
"Well then..." Rose looked around the room, her hands moving around idly as if she didn't know what to do next. Charlie thought she might get up and start pacing the room and hoped she wouldn't. He didn't mind her sitting this close to him. Even if it was quite warm, they were in the middle of the summer after all, he felt a bit chilly. Whether it was the ice bag, the concussion or simply all the bad things that happened in the last few days catching up to him, he didn't know. What he knew though, was that he desperately craved to feel the touch of another human being, feel their warmth and know that he was alive. That all whom he cared about were alive and well.
It was a bit awkward, but he reached with his left hand over to touch Rose's hand, stilling it in its movement. He turned towards her, lowering the ice bag for a moment.
"What's wrong?" Rose asked with a frown, her shoulders tensing and Charlie gave a small shake of his head.
"Nothing. I just... thanks. For being there."
'For caring' he wanted to add, but didn't, because he knew they weren't a couple anymore. Yet he couldn't get the image of Rose rushing to the station out of his mind. The look of relief on her face when she saw him, alive and well. It didn't matter if they were a couple or not, they were still friends. And right now he felt like he needed a friend.
A shiver ran through his body and he felt her hand squeeze his in reaction.
"Of course. Where else would I be?" she replied with a hesitant smile.
"At the Courier? Showing that photo down Tyneman's throat perhaps," Charlie said with a smirk.
Rose chuckled, but shook her head.
"I'm not sure it will help anything."
Charlie sighed.
Everything was a mess. Ned and Munro were dead. Rose lost her job at the paper. Blake lost his job at the station, his reputation tarnished. Charlie thought finding Ned and Munro's killer might help with that, he hoped so, but his mind kept throwing in reasons why it wouldn't. Combined with the headache and the thoughts of how close he himself came to ending up just like Ned...
"It shouldn't have been him," Charlie muttered, his face a grimace of pain and sadness.
"Who?" Rose asked, her free hand running up and down Charlie's shoulder soothingly.
"Ned. He was too young," Charlie kept talking. "Had his whole life ahead. Career, family... a fiancé. I should have stayed at the station. It should have been me-"
The previously soothing hand gave him a quick smack on the arm, startling him out of his maudlin thoughts.
"Charlie! How can you say something like that?" Rose looked at him in equal horror and anger.
Did he say it out loud?
"I didn't-" mean it, he wanted to add, but paused, unsure. Would that be a lie or not?
Rose was now glaring at him angrily, her eyes glinting suspiciously. Charlie blinked, wincing. Was she going to cry?
"What? You didn't mean it?"
Charlie stayed silent, his eyes moving awkwardly away from Rose, instead focusing on the Christmas tree. It had been decorated already. It looked so pretty, so serene. So out of place on a day like this.
"I'm sorry for what happened to Ned, I really am," Rose spoke, pulling at Charlie's hand, requesting his attention. He hesitantly turned towards her, seeing the look in her eyes. She was serious. She wanted him to listen.
"He was a good guy and didn't deserve what happened. But don't you dare say it should have been you! As if there was no one who cared about you? As if it wouldn't hurt anyone?"
Charlie opened his mouth, ready to ask: 'Well, would it?'
But he didn't. Rose's eyes widened a bit and then there was the familiar spark of fire as she slapped his arm the second time, with much more force.
Charlie actually hissed at that, recoiling.
"Ow!"
"Serves you right for even thinking something so idiotic!"
"But I didn't-"
Rose pulled back from him, arms crossed over her chest as she sent him a glare worthy of a Lawson.
Charlie blinked.
He couldn't help it.
The chuckle escaped and once it was out, it was followed by another as the glare on her face changed to a look of confusion and perhaps mild panic.
"What... what on earth is wrong with you?" she asked finally, her hands flailing next to her body in exasperation and Charlie had to bite down on his lip. The chuckles threatened to turn into a sob and the last thing he wanted was to start crying in front of her. It was just too much. Too absurd. Too painful to deal with.
So he shook his head, shrugged. Squeezed the bag of ice so hard his knuckles turned white.
For a moment, they both sat there in silence, both trying to get a handle on their emotions. The silence became awkward after several minutes and Charlie wondered if he should just get up to his bedroom. He doubted Rose would follow him right now, or try to stop him.
But his feet felt like lead and he didn't want to think of how much his head would hurt if he was to get up suddenly.
It was Rose who moved first. The cushion of the couch moved and Charlie looked up at her, expecting her to head towards the kitchen, or worse, to her car.
But she only stood up and moved to his other side, shuffling down towards the further end of the couch. He looked at her with some confusion, until she let out a sigh and patted the space next to her.
"Come on, I don't bite."
Charlie raised a brow in doubt and she huffed.
"We are both tired. It will take Lucien and Jean at least an hour to finish the interview and come back home. You are supposed to rest till then."
"Here?" was all Charlie could say, dumbfounded, watching as she patted her own thigh.
"I'm not letting you climb the stairs. And even if you made it up there, I'm not crawling into the bed with you-"
Charlie bit his lip, several questions and perhaps not so innocent thoughts popping into his head.
"Oh for God's sake-" Rose grabbed his arm and nudged him to lie down. "Get your head out of the gutter, will you?"
"A bit hard to do," Charlie spoke as he lie down, "when my head's in your lap," he added, turning to look up at her face. She grinned, satisfied. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then the cold bag filled with ice landed on his face.
Charlie grunted and reached up for it.
"Put it where it belongs... or I will," Rose said, giving him a rather pointed look.
Charlie snorted but did as he was told. Who knew Rose could be so bossy?
"You sound just like your uncle," he muttered under his breath even as he turned to lie on his backe, moving the ice bag to his right temple.
"What was that?" Rose asked, sounding sweet and deadly at the same time.
Charlie thought it was safer to stay silent.
He moved around a bit, until he found a comfortable position. The couch was a bit shorter than he would've liked, but if he bent his knees... yeah. That was good. His head still hurt like hell, but Rose's thigh was a nice cushion. Warm and familiar.
Charlie let out a long, heavy breath.
"Shh..." she hushed and Charlie felt her fingers softly cradling through the hair on the top of his head. Then her other hand moved to his chest, drawing circles and ornaments. It was soothing. Her warmth was soothing, the sound of her breathing, soft humming. The familiar smell of her perfume.
Charlie's eyes were becoming heavy. If he tilted his head just a bit, he caught sight of the Christmas tree, the glint of the decorations in the settling afternoon sun making it look as if the lights had been lit. Charlie blinked, letting out a heavy breath. His mind was still a jumble of thoughts and images but they were being pushed to the back, muted by weariness. He focused on his senses as his eyes slipped closed.
The feeling of touch, filled with love. The sweet but gentle smell of flowers permeating the air, coupled with the stronger smell of fir from the tree. For a moment, he let himself forget everything else as his body succumbed to sleep. He was still sleeping when the front door opened and Blake and Jean peeked into the room. He was aware of a soft murmur of voices, a familiar chuckle.
"Where is that camera when one needs it?" Blake's voice, followed by Jean's admonishing, but goodhearted tone.
"Oh, let them sleep, Lucien."
The Doc murmured something, but Charlie didn't hear. He didn't much care either. All he cared about was that he was left alone, to slumber in peace. With a warm arm resting on his chest, right over his heart, the familiar sounding soft snores of Rose Anderson just above him.
Charlie wanted to open his eyes and nudge her, pointing out that she did indeed snore, but the hand on his arm chest twitched, subconsciously giving a soothing rub and the thought was lost. He was comfortable and someone cared. That was all he needed to rest easy.
THE END
