It's Only Me Waking You
Chapter 3: Schuhe
*Spoilers for the end of season two.
Warning: Charlotte deals with PTSD. Please avoid reading if this is a trigger for you.
Charlotte tells herself that she has nothing to worry about when she accompanies Detective Inspector Rath to the crime scene.
It is a bright, breath-catching November morning. Blue skies umbrella amber and russet leaves on oak trees that flank the country road.
Graf drives, with Gereon in the passenger seat, and Charlotte in the back, by herself. She tells herself that she doesn't mind sitting alone. She doesn't mind having extra time to consider the numerous cases they're working on.
The victim drowned. A female in her twenties. Foul play is suspected.
Ritter clutches her cream-colored silk scarf and wrings it in her hands. She takes a deep breath and tells herself that everything will be well. She is with Gereon and Graf, the two men she trusts the most. What could possibly go wrong?
Graf parks by the side of the road, ahead of a few other police cars. The three get out and silently walk down a short incline toward the river.
The view along the riverbank is even more picturesque. Ritter hears birdsong and the rush of water, sweeping along. She lingers behind the men and has a sudden urge to turn around and walk back to the automobile.
Graf positions his camera, eagerly flashing photos. Gereon speaks with two police officers nearby, and Charlotte's feet crunch on stones and leaves and twigs before standing over the body.
She views sickly-pale flesh, blue lips, and eyes wide open, like a caught fish. Her hair is dark brown, medium-length, and her dress is grey with light green flowers. She stares up at Charlotte as if asking her a question.
Ritter shivers and leans closer to identify a chilling coincidence. The corpse is wearing her exact same shoes: blue pumps, with a single green strap across the vamp, and a silver buckle.
Charlotte's nose wrinkles at the odor of damp and decay, but also something sharper. Like a perfume, it strikes the assistant sharply, rich in negative ions, and she recognizes it-the smell of terror. She leans in even closer.
Then the dead girl winks at her.
Ritter spins on her heels and flees in the opposite direction, moving quickly, her breath coming out in short puffs of visible air.
"Charlotte?" She hears Gereon's call but doesn't stop to answer. She stalks up the riverbank and back to their car.
Ritter tries to light a cigarette, but her hands are shaking too badly, and she curses their impotence. All she can do is stand, like a frightened deer, and wait for the men to return.
Within a few minutes, she views the tops of the mens' fedoras as they walk up the incline. Graf waves, camera slung around his neck. Gereon looks worried as he approaches, his head tilted, so Charlotte forces a smile to put him at ease.
"What's the matter?" he asks. "Are you unwell?"
"No," she says, trying to speak lightly, but it ends up sounding too high-pitched. "I thought I had left my gloves in the car, but I must have forgotten them at headquarters."
Gereon nods but still has that apprehensive look, as if he doesn't believe her.
I wouldn't believe me either, she thinks.
"Would you care to sit in the front?" Rath gestures to the car with a small smile and a flourish.
Charlotte beams, her jaw clicking with the forced effort, and slides into the passenger seat beside the detective. Graf sits in the back and continues discussing the case with Rath.
"...manner of decomposition suggests…"
"-and stones in her pockets…"
Ritter's hands begin trembling again, and she can feel her heart humming in her chest. A bitter taste scrapes the back of her throat- salty, like mud and tears, and frigid as lake water.
Gereon was driving before it happened, and I sat beside him. The other car struck us. We swerved. There was a crash.
That was before her arm was caught, before the freezing water consumed her.
Charlotte fidgets in her seat. Her palms ache, and her stomach churns. She swallows air, but it doesn't stop her racing heart. It doesn't stop. It won't stop. Can't stop.
"Stop…" she murmurs. Her mouth is desert-dry, and she swallows. No one hears her. She tries to speak again, but all that comes out is a loud gasp that immediately receives the attention she never wanted.
"Charlotte?" Rath glances at her quickly, still keeping his gaze on the road. His blue eyes brim with concern. "What's wrong?"
She wants to answer him, but all she can do is draw in rattling breaths, as if the air is being choked out of her by invisible hands. A humming drill along her temple drowns out all background noise, and she has the inescapable feeling that the car is going to crash is going to flip is going to trap them-
"It's all right," Gereon says, even though everything clearly isn't. He pulls over; the car jostles on gravel along the side of the road.
Charlotte's quivering hand scrambles for the door, opens it, and stumbles out before the automobile has completely stopped. She vaguely hears shouting, but she can't make out the words. Her vision slants as she faces a sprawling field. Color leeches out of the sky, the grass, and the forest along the edge of the meadow, turning everything a mottled grey. She takes five steps into the field before her legs wobble, and she falls to her knees.
I'm going to die.
On all fours, she heaves into the grass, though nothing comes out. She wipes her mouth with her sleeve, aware that her intake of breath has reached a high-pitched wheeze. Still, adequate air refuses to flow.
She's pinned to the seat yet drifting in the lake water. The coldness begins to claw at her skin, seeping into her chest, trying to force her mouth open to flood her insides with its icy tendrils. This is before she succumbed to her fate, when nothing could compete with the drumbeat of her heart and the shrieking panic of wanting to be alive. Those last few moments were the longest and worst of her life-waiting for Gereon to swim back, not knowing if he would, fearing that she would die alone.
"Charlotte."
A voice breaks through her dregs of memories, dragging her out of the attack. It's a calm, even voice. It belongs to the man who saved her life.
Gereon places a gentle hand on her back. He says, "I'm here."
Ritter's eyes flash open. Her eyes sting, tears running freely down her cheeks. She's so ashamed of her emotions, but she can't help them. Her limbs shiver uncontrollably.
"I'm here," he says again.
Charlotte's breath hitches and then steadies, though the world is still tilted. She tries to focus on Gereon's hand, pulsing warmth on her back.
"S-sorry," she stammers, head bowed.
Rath's hand moves to her shoulder. Its weight is a constant, reassuring pressure.
"It was my fault," he says quietly. "I should have realized the victim…"
Charlotte's vision clears gradually. When she finally raises her head, she has to place a hand over her eyes to block out the brilliance of the green field, covered with swaying dandelions. Her other hand brushes against one of the flowers, and she sighs.
Ritter visualizes the wrinkled dress, pale legs streaked with mud from the riverbank. Did the dead girl have sturdy or delicate feet? Wide or narrow?
"She was wearing the same shoes that I'm wearing…"
The tears come, stronger than before, and her vision blurs. Gereon's hand moves to her arm, steadying her. She feels the tears drop onto her lap, her knees already soaked from dew on the field, and then she folds herself into the warmth of Gereon's body. He immediately reciprocates the embrace, encircling his arms around her. Charlotte takes in the softness of his shirt, beneath the layer of his trench coat. She buries her face into his neck and smells the sweetness of his aftershave and the tang of tobacco. They may have remained that way for several hours, but Ritter knows it was only a few minutes.
"I'm all right now," she says.
Gereon takes her hand and helps her to her feet. She leans on the Inspector as they walk back to the car, all of her energy spent. Graf stands beside the automobile like a sentry. When Charlotte nods at him, he gives her a sympathetic smile.
For a moment, Charlotte doesn't think of her past. For a moment, she isn't afraid.
"Are you going to drive me all the way back to the city?" she whispers in Gereon's ear.
Rath grins at her through a side glance. "Of course."
TBC
A/N: What happened to Charlotte at the end of season two is pretty much my worst nightmare. After the lake scene, I actually had to pause the episode and look up spoilers for the next episode because I was so upset. Emotional manipulation complete!
I feel like I'm writing a gentler, nicer version of Rath-probably someone less brainwashed.
We'll see what other ideas come to me. Thanks for reading, and let me know how I'm doing!
~Ista