Charles stood in the garden of Thistle house once again.
He was a danger to them all.
While he was there, they would never be safe. While he was there, he was putting Jellybean and Jughead at risk. While he was there, he was risking the safety of Cheryl and Tony, of Fangs and Joaquin, of Hermione and Veronica, of Sweet pea, of his niece and nephew, Juniper and Dagwood Blossom. He couldn't let them all suffer for his mistakes.
He couldn't stay here, not when he put them all in peril by doing so.
Which gave him two options. Either he could leave. Run back to the apartment he and Chic had rented, live a hand to mouth existence as he had before he joined the FBI, change his name and his identity, and pray that no one recognized him, that no one would snitch on him.
Because if they snitched on him, he would either end up in prison, which would not be so bad, Charles knew he could actually survive that, or He'd end up back in the hands of FP, Alice and Betty. And Charles knew he could not let that happen.
Which only left the second option. Death.
Charles had always thought when he was younger that he would never kill himself. The idea that he would give up had terrified his younger self. Suicide in general had made him frightened, frightened that he would do it to himself.
Now though, it felt like an appealing option.
Charles knew that suicide left tragedy for the family. He read of the D and D players who poisoned themselves in Riverdale, drinking blue poison from challises. He knew of the teen in Greendale who couldn't take it any-more after his girlfriend died in a tragic accident. He knew of how Cheryl Blossom had stood on the ice, too scared to go on after her brothers death. He knew of the stonewall prep teacher who jumped out of the window. It was odd, Charles thought, about how he viewed those deaths as very different from his own.
Charles had a knife in his pocket. A small blade, the kind carried by the ghoulies and the serpents. The ideal kind for ending his own life.
He didn't want Jellybean or Jughead to discover his body. Especially not Jellybean. But there wasn't really anything he could do about that.
Charles lent against the prickly tree, concealed from view. He had already left a note to the few people he cared about inside. A goodbye letter. A part for Jughead to read. A part for Jellybean to read. A part for Chic to read. His final farewell.
Charles raised the knife to his wrist, and gently let his eyes slide shut. He held the cool metal against his skin and just waited there, letting time fly by, resting, building up the nerve to cut down.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there.
Wasn't sure how long he stood there, the blade ready to end him, the harsh wood scratching him, the wet rain trickling down his neck, the sounds of birds weeping sorrowfully in the trees. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, doing nothing but waiting.
"You don't want to do that." a voice said from behind him.
Charles jumped, and the blade tumbled to the floor.
He turned around to face the voice, it was Joaquin.
"You don't know what I want."
"Perhaps not. But I can tell that your clearly hurting. I can tell that what they did to you affected you far more than your willing to let anyone see. I can tell that your willing to do this. I can tell that whatever it is that is haunting you will ease." Joaquin replied.
"I'm not doing it for me. I could survive. I know that. But if I stay here, I endanger my brother and sister. If I leave, they will find me again, and I can't handle that. So this is the only way to keep Jughead and Jellybean safe, and not allow them to have what they want." Charles replied.
"Your wrong. Doing this won't keep them safe. Jughead is towing the line between sanity and falling off the edge. He drinks, constantly, and when he isn't drinking he's crying. This will send him spiralling. And Jellybean, she's a strong girl, but she is not as naive as you all think she is. She and Ricky are hiding something. I don't know what yet, I'm trying to work out what they are doing without hurting them. I don't want my brother to get into trouble any-more than you want your sister too. If your dead, you can't protect her."
Charles finds himself nodding.
"I'll stay alive. To protect them."
