Inherent Superiority

Chapter IV: What You Expected Vs. What You Got

I had a plan where there was an obligatory big showdown between Charlie's old enemies and himself, with all the requisite violence of my usual fics, but then a different ending occurred to me.

This particular chapter is to SilverJojo, for pushing me to pick up the pen again. Let me assure what readers I have left, there is a plan for Tiger Chronicles, tying into a multiverse setting. I have been busy trying to get a life, as they say, but…

I. AM. NOT. DONE.

Dead.

Martin Grey was dead. Suicide.

Violet Grey was dead. Cancer.

Brenda Grey was dead. Overdose.

Everyone she had contacted that she knew from Grindstone was either dead, in jail, or desperately trying to salvage their lives. Those that would listen to her had nothing polite to say.

"Fuck off."

"I can't afford to help you."

"Get a life, Lucy."

Her holy fury began to peter out, leaving in its absence something cold, alien and terrible, like the cold that seeped through ill-fitting clothes given to her once she was released…

Doubt.

I don't know how to get what I want.

I don't know anyone who can or will help me.

I don't feel like a Goddess.

She had five hundred dollars total to her name, the clothes on her back, and the location of a shelter for recently released women.

That was it.

That was the sum glory of Lucy Van Pelt, the reincarnation of Athena. Everything else had been liquidated to pay fines, or was far too small for her to wear now. The house had been foreclosed. Both cars sold.

Rerun was adopted, and she didn't have enough money to travel to where he was, five states away.

Part of her began to point out that she had lost so much already, that the smartest thing to do was to try and rebuild her life from scratch.

Scratch. Less than zero. No family to help her, no friends to support her, a criminal/psychotic record, and no real job experience. She could claim she'd finished high school, but…

She sighed, trying not to dwell on how old and tired she felt, or the exhaustion in her breath. She'd stepped out of prison and into a world that hated her.

This was not how it was all supposed to go down. Not at all.

Charlie Brown should be in the cold, and she should be exalted, invited to audiences with the Pope, the Queen, the President, all lining up and canceling their other appointments just to be able to hear her wisdom, hear her glorious, unfiltered, life-changing ministry…

…and instead they were making a movie about his book.

A book that cast her as a villain.

The world had gone completely and utterly fucking insane.

She started plodding towards the shelter. She needed sleep and a meal, then she could consider what to do next. She was wise and wonderful, after all.

All she needed was to recharge.

Charlie Brown expected three kinds of people to come knocking- family, his lawyer, and food deliveries. He lived in a gated apartment community, so unless someone was invited, they'd have to check in with the front gate at first.

Of all the people he'd expect to show up unannounced in the pouring rain, she wasn't one of them. He'd would have expected Violet Grey to rise from her grave first, but here she was, at the gate…

Heather Wold.

The little-red haired girl.

One of the few people to show him kindness, she'd moved away in junior-high- they'd exchanged email addresses (a move he thought she did out of pity) until one day, the replies stopped coming. He'd always figured that she'd just moved on, gotten tired of him, or didn't want to be associated with the 'failure face'.

The woman in front of him was beautiful, despite being woebegone, tattered shirt and jeans, mussed red-hair, that same mole on her cheek from when she was thirteen, waving a cab driver to take off. Incredulous, he'd led her inside, gotten her a towel, put on water for coffee.

It didn't take a genius to figure out life hadn't been as kind to her as it had been to Charlie Brown.

"Thank you for letting me inside." She said, voice wavering like an angel's who been cast down from…

Focus.

"I couldn't leave you out there to drown, could I?" he tried to be funny, but her face remained morose. "Heather…" he grabbed at his nearly bald head. "I… what happened?"

Her lip quivered.

And then the dam broke.

Her father had been a witness to a murder, and they'd gone into witness protection. For years on end during a lengthy trial, overruling, and re-trial, she'd been forced to live a lie, under a new name, Ariel Heights, at a new school where she was told not to make friends, not to have anyone over. She'd been told to take online college courses instead of going to a campus. For over a decade, she'd been denied a normal life…

…and when finally, the defendant in the case had killed himself in a cell, the government told them it was all over with one phone call. They'd gotten a pittance in reimbursement for over a decade of being in hiding, and told to move on with their lives.

Her parents were scrambling to make something of their lives, and she was left floundering with no prospects in some backwater town, they were going to move to an even smaller apartment where her dad could find work now that he wasn't on a government job...

"I know it sounds stupid, but those emails you sent me were the only thing I had left. They let me keep printouts of the emails, everything else had to get put into storage, and I kept reading them because I couldn't have friends, and I just wanted to say how sorry I was for (hiccup) not saying anything and I…"

"Heather." He interrupted. "It's okay, it's okay. Just… slow down, take your time. Why come here?"

She looked up at him. "You're the only friend I ever had that stuck with me."

Something inside Charlie Brown's mind went clunk as his mind slipped a gear.

"What." He croaked.

"I… had a few friends who… just moved on after we hit junior high. I kept… wondering why you never wanted to ask me out, never wanted to sit by me… I guess you heard the rumors, huh?"

"No… I… I thought you'd be embarrassed to be seen with me!" Charlie sputtered. "Stuck with failure-face? What rumors?"

And so she told him. About how she'd said no to one boy who wanted to experiment, and that had started vengeful rumors about how Heather Wold was a prude, or a tease, or a slut… how her former friends turned away when she approached in the hallway… how she'd hoped he'd work up the courage to talk to her directly… how no one would even bother to bully her directly, so teachers would pretend no problem existed…

Only as she recounted all the awfulness did it start to occur to Charlie Brown that he might not have been the only one to have a shitty childhood.

"I'm sorry for coming her in the middle of the night." She sighed as she sipped her coffee. "I just… I know you were going through hell, but you… you were there for me in all the ways you could be and I… I just wanted to say I'm sorry for having to ditch you-"

"Heather, what happened wasn't your fault." Charlie interjected, sitting down across from her. "These… walking diseases saw a beautiful young woman, and when you wouldn't cave in for them, they acted like stupid incels do."

Heather managed a weak smile as she drank a bit more coffee.

"If I can ask… you mentioned you were taking some college courses? Does that give you any prospects?" he prodded gently.

"Maybe." She sighed. "I majored in computer programming, but all the courses I took were under 'Ariel Heights'. I've submitted forms and paperwork from the witness protection program to try and get the credits changed to my name, but it's taking a long time. There's people at the college that think I'm trying to get credits I didn't earn, and they keep telling me they have to go through all these processes…"

She sniffed. "I'm sorry, it's just that it feels like I'm drowning. You were the only friend I really had that ever stayed with me as long as you could and I feel awful that I wasn't there for you when things got worse…"

With considerable effort, she managed to finish the last of her coffee. "I… I just wanted to apologize. I read your book, I read how bad things got, and I… I hope you find someone who makes you happy." She stood. "Could I… could I use your phone to call a cab?"

Charlie's impulses shattered through his reason. "Stay." It was a plea, a command, a request.

She stared at him blankly for several minutes, confused. "I… I couldn't. I'm sure I can find a motel somewhere-"

"Stay. Please. You can take the bed, just… please. I just…"

Cracks in the dam

"I just found out someone I like doesn't think I'm a failure and…" his voice cracked horribly.

Breaking apart

"…I feel like all I do nowadays is hate and hate and hate and hate and HATE…"

And then the dam broke.

He wasn't sure what he said through his tears. Or what she said through hers. Something about wanting to help someone, hold someone, and that he was scared that the little red haired girl that was in this dreams was going to go away for good…

And then she said something that sounded like do you want me to stay, and he begged her to.

It wasn't like those cheesy erotic stories where childhood friends fucked on their first reunion. She showered in privacy, then he did, and they met in his bedroom.

"I don't…" he said slowly, as she stood there dressed in a shirt too big for her and sweatpants that hung off of her… "I don't want to ruin this… can we… can we just stay together? I won't touch you, I won't make you feel uncomfortable, I just…" he stood there, clad in nothing more than a pair of loose gym shorts, holding his head. "I'm just worried that I'm going to wake up, and you'll be gone, and I'll lose you again..."

Her lips quivered. "I want you to hold me. Tight."

The lights went off, and they cried in each other's arms until there were no tears left, and for the first time in seven years, Charlie didn't have nightmares.

Linus Van Pelt got a reputation over in Iraq: the kind of man who would charge head on into a wall of enemy fire to save a downed soldier, punch an abusive husband and father's head into the ground until he was recognizable, and defuse a fight before it started back at base- all in the same day.

He'd learned things he wish he could forget, like how young some girls were when they were considered marriage material in other countries. What people would do to each other in the name of whatever god they worshipped.

There had been useful things he'd learned, on the other hand. He'd learned to lead, both in word and by example. He'd learned how to earn someone's trust, how to defuse situations so that people on both sides realized nothing was worth dying over. One guy, Derkins, had taught him how to make someone talk without even touching them, as well as one critical rule for life, something he wished he'd learned back when he was a kid…

Never take shit from anyone you owe nothing.

Lucy Van Pelt seemed shorter now. Larger for sure, even after prison, but only horizontally.

"-and now mom and dad are telling me you of all people are the only person I could turn to-" The obese lunatic raved, but Linus' mind was elsewhere.

Once, she'd been intimidating. That was over a decade and a lot of muscle mass ago. The question wasn't could I deal with her, but rather how messy he wanted to make it.

"-that fucking failure face is making a movie that makes me look bad! Me! Me! Me!-"

Maybe she was really, genuinely mentally ill, and despite all the things she'd done, he didn't feel like beating on someone who literally couldn't control their impulses. He'd had horrible, horrible fantasies when he was at military school of beating her like she had him…

"-what are you giving me that look for? If you're still angry about how I 'mistreated' you back then, say something for once in your life-"

The real question was… why was he letting her waste his time?

"Listen, bitch." He interjected, "I am trying my hardest to not develop alcoholism after spending way too long having my sleep, my meals, and my attempts at bathroom breaks interrupted by fucking gunfire, and the last thing I need is your holier than thou bitching. I don't give a fuck about how you think you're a goddess or that Charlie's story hurt your little feelings, okay? I'm going to close the door now, and you're going to go somewhere else and leave me alone. Because if you don't, if you bang on my door like I heard you did to Charlie Brown, I'll have the police haul your delusional narcissistic ass back to prison where it belongs? Understand?"

Her pudgy mouth, so accustomed to shoveling oreos and fast food in with reckless abandon, now flopped open in disbelief, and Linus took this break in the conversation to shut his apartment door in her face.

He was effectively shutting the door on his only sibling besides Rerun, and he sometimes wondered if the kid even remembered him…

Oh well. He had a lot to do to get his life together before he went screwing with someone else's. Military experience went a long way in the job market, but that didn't mean he was going to give up on the online courses he was taking, hoping to gain an edge in the job market.

Odd. He listened for a while, then went to his door to peer out the peephole…

Lucy had left. Huh.

Wait, Lucy had left?

He was almost disappointed, looking forward to calling the police and having her hauled back to prison after she had another one of her "righteous moments of indignation", or as sane called them: psychotic meltdowns.

Oh well. One less thing to worry about…

The thunder woke him up, and as his eyes opened, he realized he was alone.

He inhaled, counted to three, exhaled, counted to three, repeating that several times, trying to push the tears back. Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

There was no red-headed angel to hold him. There never had been. It had been a God-damned dream sent by a God who couldn't resist reminding him of what he would never have…

*flush*

For a few seconds, his heart stopped.

Please. Please. Please. If this a dream just let me die and never wake up.

His eyes spied her purse on a chair, and she walked back in, disheveled but beautiful, still shuffling with the look and feeling of someone who spent most of the night crying into his arms…

It was 6:00 A.M. on a Saturday, and rain splashed against the windows.

"Morning." He said, still not daring to believe.

"Mornin'." She managed a half-smile. "Can we stay in bed?"

He pulled back the covers, and she snuggled in beside him as he draped them back over her.

"…this is my first time in someone else's bed." She admitted.

He allowed himself to smile, unused muscles hurting, but Heather was worth it. "First time I've had anyone in mine."

His arm had wrapped around her, and she was melting into him, pulling closer.

She wanted to be with him.

She was here because she wanted to be with him.

"Let's take this slow. I want… I didn't think I'd ever be able to see you again, and I want to make this last forever." He stammered.

She looked surprised. "You don't feel like I'm using you?"

"No." he admitted. "I… for the first time in my life, I can help someone. You helped me, your emails gave me… something positive, and now… now I feel something more than just angry all the time."

He pulled her closer, arm loose enough that she could pull away. "Stay with me, please?"

She just looked at him. She would say no, it was wrong, and maybe they'd have coffee once or twice before she went far, far away…

Why was she moving her face so close?

His lips met hers.

"Slow." She agreed. "But together."

The rain's staccato lulled them both to sleep.

Charlie Brown deserves a happy ending for once.

I'll finish this sooner rather than later.

May you find someone special, and may you keep each other safe and happy.