He felt cold.
Charlie was aware that he was shaking. His teeth weren't chattering because he kept them clenched tight. His jaw hurt, but the sound would just make his headache worse. He didn't want to wake Blake either.
The doc was there, Charlie knew. He was sleeping in the chair, a book sitting on his lap, snoring slightly. Charlie watched him from beneath half open eyelids, unsure if he was awake or dreaming.
His mind was filled with images he'd rather forget. Every time he closed his eyes, turned his head or hell, even just breathed wrong, he was taken back to some different moment he couldn't escape.
He was back in the basement, sitting on the stairs, waiting. The walls were just a bit closer, looming over him, the air hotter. Too hot, almost as if there was a fire. His breathing sped up as he turned around and pounded on the door, shouting to be let out.
The door opened and he crashed through, but instead of the hall he was in the ring. There was the guy whose knee he busted, bleeding and growling, charging at him. Charlie jumped to the side, right into the cage and he was expecting Caleb with the knife but instead there was Beast, growling and slobbering. The dog's teeth glinted and Charlie could only stand paralysed as it bit his leg.
"No," Charlie hissed, pulling back.
His leg hurt.
"Hush, it's alright. It's just me," a voice spoke from the direction of the pain.
Charlie tried to pull back, but there was a firm hand wrapped around his knee, holding it in place.
"Charlie! It's me, Lucien."
Charlie stilled, his eyes finally focusing on the Doc. The man was watching him, unmoving. Charlie swallowed, his eyes shooting around the room. It was dark, only the bedside lamp was turned on, pulled next to the bed to aim at his leg.
"Doc?" Charlie asked, confused. "What're ya doing?"
"Just wanted to check the leg and change the wrapping before Jean comes to replace me," Blake explained and Charlie noticed there was a fresh wrap on his leg. It still hurt though.
"Is it worse?" he asked and his stomach clenched. He didn't want to lose his leg. He also didn't want to go through what Blake was doing earlier in the evening. Charlie had enough of pain for the next year he thought.
"Not worse," Blake said somehow hedgingly.
"Better?" Charlie asked, but he doubted that. He would have to feel better surely if that was the case.
"Let's give it more time," Blake said with a smile that was meant to reassure but instead made Charlie let out a groan of apprehension.
"Now now, none of that," Blake pulled the blanket back over Charlie's leg, then patted his arm. "It's still early."
Charlie wouldn't know.
"What time?" he asked, trying to figure that out, but the drapes were closed. It was still dark, but... he had no way of knowing how long he had slept. It could've been an hour or a whole day. His body felt stiff and achy, his flesh too tight and too hot.
"It's around four in the morning. Go back to sleep."
Charlie didn't want to. He knew the moment he closed his eyes, he would be lost in nightmares and there was no telling when he would manage to escape again. He wished he could just get up and take a walk in the crisp night air. Take a shower or hell... even just sit up without feeling like the world was a merry go round.
Unfortunately, he lacked the energy needed even to articulate these thoughts, not to mention actually moving. The only thing he could say was 'thirsty' and then 'thanks' when Blake held the glass so he could take few wonderfully cool sips of water. A hand ghosted over his brow and only then did Charlie realize he had closed his eyes.
Something wet and cold was put over his forehead and for a second it irked the wound on his eyebrow, but then the coolness brought relief. He heard the door to the room open and Jean softly enquiring, but Blake's response was lost on him. Sleep had once again pulled him into its grasp.
Time stopped making sense.
Every time he managed to open his eyes the person sitting by his side changed. He could've sworn at one point he saw Lawson standing at the door, frowning silently. Charlie knew it must've been a dream, nothing else.
Sometimes, he felt afraid. There was this feeling of threat, a dream of running, being chased. Then there was the knife and there was Caleb, but things weren't the same.
Caleb looked scared, his eyes wide with warning. Charlie felt a punch from behind. Even before his hand reached at his back, he knew he would find the knife there. What he didn't expect was to see his brother Ray holding onto it.
"No, not you," Charlie whispered before he fell to his knees.
"You left me, you left us! What did you expect?" Ray shouted into his face. Charlie opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. Couldn't protest.
He coughed and felt the iron taste of blood on his lips. The pain was nothing though to the image of his bother, eyes filled with hatred. Eyes with pupils so wide he couldn't see their colour anymore. Hands shaking, needle tracks in the forearm instead of the boxer gloves.
Charlie whimpered even as his body sank to the ground.
He didn't want this. He didn't want his brother to go on the wrong path, didn't want to face what could've happened if there wasn't someone holding in the reins. Someone to keep his brothers on the right track.
"It's alright, you're alright Charlie," a familiar voice sounded from above and his brother vanished. Caleb was gone too and Charlie was once again left in the darkness. Nothing but a floating body, trapped in the night. The air was hot, suffocating.
Something icy touched his skin and Charlie whimpered. It felt like ice picks stabbing through his skin. It was too cold and he tried to push it off, but it was relentless. Charlie tossed and protested but there was nothing he could do. His arms didn't respond, the thing stayed in place, burning his skin with cold.
Soothing words kept coming and slowly he started to calm down. The cold was almost bearable now. Almost nice in the heat surrounding him, wrapping around his limbs, keeping him weighed down as if there was nothing but gravity.
Sometimes, Charlie opened his eyes.
Sometimes, he saw a familiar face, felt a gentle touch. Sometimes there was pain and he tried to escape that but he couldn't. The voices were still there though, through all of it and the pain always passed.
Time slipped by and he felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing was real.
There was a point though when it all stopped.
Charlie thought he might weep with relief.
Instead... he opened his eyes.
First thing he saw was the white ceiling.
He was lying on a bed, a blanket wrapped around his body like a shroud. It was damp. The whole bed felt damp from sweat.
Charlie blinked, slowly turning his head.
Nothing made much sense.
All he knew was that things were strange. Things happened but he couldn't focus on any one of them, except for the feeling of being trapped. The suffocating heat was still fresh on his mind and the feeling of the damp blanket wrapped around him made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't.
The damn thing was clutching to him, keeping him down like a rope. There was something on his forehead and as Charlie moved his head, it slipped down over his eyes.
Charlie's breathing picked up.
First time the burlap sack was thrown over his head, the musty smell of it, the inability to breath properly.
Nauseating car drives, Kenneth's muffled chuckles.
The long walk to the ring... his only clue the excited voices around and the sound of a lock as the cage door slammed shut.
He felt like there wasn't enough air.
He reached up panicking and tossed the thing off his head, gasping for air as he sat upright in the bed. His side screamed at the fast move and it only pushed him further from reality. He could hear the cheering of the crowd, could feel the vibration of their clapping and stomping through the floor.
The feeling of nausea grew and he leaned forward. The blanket tangled around his leg, pulling at the wound, sending more pain to his brain. Charlie whimpered and his hands grasped blindly forward, trying to free himself.
Fumbling, his vision caught in a different place, Charlie managed to pull away from his constraints.
The sudden freedom came more as a surprise as he lurched forward. He had to get away, had to get out.
There was a door.
His feet landed on the floor and he even managed a step or two, when his arm caught on something.
Charlie pulled.
He felt a bit of pain, though it was nothing to what the rest of his body was feeling. There was a crash as something fell and Charlie made another step before his own foot got tangled and trapped.
He fell to his knees, the breath momentarily knocked out of him.
He blinked and looked at his arms.
There was a cast.
There was blood running from his elbow.
The slowly oozing wound dripping crimson chased away all semblance of reality. Everything around seemed to freeze.
Charlie couldn't take his eyes off the blood. In his mind, it wasn't a trickle. In his mind, it was a red pool, on the floor of a ring. Around him lay three bodies covered in bruises and wounds. He was in the middle, on his knees, while a crowd cheered wildly. Calling for one thing only.
"KILL!"
The chanting grew and Charlie found himself shaking.
The vision was so strong, so loud... he didn't hear the door open. He didn't hear a voice call out his name in concern.
He didn't hear the approaching footsteps.
All he could see was Kenneth standing in front of him, handing him a knife. A wide grin on his face.
"Do it, or I will."
Charlie shook his head.
"No. No, I won't," he muttered.
Kenneth shrugged. He looked up from Charlie, somewhere behind.
Charlie felt the hair on his neck stand in warning.
Someone was there.
Someone Kenneth shot a smile to.
A hand touched his shoulder.
When she entered the room, she froze for a second. Charlie was kneeling on the floor, his back to her. She could see the blanket wrapped around his feet, the most likely culprit of the fall. Her eyes noticed the coat hanger Blake used to hang the IV. It was now in semi horizontal position, leaning against the bedside table precariously.
"Charlie?" she called out from the doorway, but he didn't react. She could only see the back of his head so didn't know whether his eyes were even open. His body was shaking, covered in sweat. His breathing sounded harsh... like an animal chased into a corner.
Jean knew she had to approach carefully, especially as he didn't react to her second call. She took a few steps in, then noted the blood running down his right arm where he ripped out the IV.
Carefulness went out the window. She crossed the distance and without thinking put her hand on his shoulder.
The reaction was fast and violent.
She didn't know Charlie was able to move that fast. One moment she was standing, the next she felt a hand connect with her forearm and suddenly she was falling backwards.
She felt the springs of the mattress as she fell onto the bed sideways, the breath knocked out of her momentarily.
The room fell into silence, except for the sounds of harsh breathing. That must've been Charlie, because Jean couldn't seem to get in any oxygen. It was only after she turned her head and saw the utterly terrified look on his face that her lungs seemed to remember their function. She took in a deep breath, then another.
"J-Jean?" Charlie stuttered and Jean raised a hand to request a moment. Few more deep breaths and her own heart started to calm down. She felt the throbbing of her arm and looked to see a reddish spot that would undoubtedly turn into a bruise. She straightened on the bed, running one hand over the spot but paused mid motion when she saw Charlie's eyes following the motion.
To say he was stunned was an understatement.
His eyes were wide as saucers, slightly unfocused, as if he had just woken up from a dream. Or a nightmare, if the terror inside them was anything to go by.
She let out a deep breath, shaking off the momentary shock.
"Are you alright Charlie?" she asked gently and was dismayed to see his whole body wince.
"I... I'm so sorry. God, what... what did I do? I didn't-" he was shaking his head, eyes filling with familiar guilt. Jean frowned, pushing herself off the bed. She was kneeling right next to him, both her palms on his face even as he kept stuttering apologies.
"Charlie!" she said more forcefully than she wanted, but she needed to get through to him. He stopped stuttering, watching her. "It's alright. I'm fine, you didn't hurt me."
"I thought it was... someone else," Charlie said, his eyes pleading for understanding.
Jean nodded fervently.
"I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have came at you like that," she said, even though she did call out to him previously several times. But Charlie clearly hadn't heard her then and now was not the time to throw around blame. "Nothing happened, Charlie. I'm fine. Now let's make sure you are too, alright?"
Charlie swallowed, staring into her eyes, uncertain.
"This is not my room," he said, his voice so low Jean barely heard him. She frowned, looking around. Didn't Charlie recognize Matthew's room? But then, how often had he been there? And it wasn't like there were photos or anything to go by. Just an ordinary room.
"This is Matthew's room. We brought you here so you wouldn't have to climb the stairs. Do you remember?"
Charlie's brows furrowed in thought, then slowly, he nodded. His eyes slipped down, suddenly unable to face Jean.
"Y-yeah. Sorry. I guess I forgot."
"That's alright. You are still running quite a fever," she said, softly moving a lock of hair from his forehead.
"It is hot in here," he nodded seriously and Jean couldn't stop the chuckle. He looked at her with some confusion though and it was clear he still wasn't back to normal.
Jean run her hand up and down his shoulder, pausing at the sight of the slowly bleeding wound. She cringed and reached towards his arm, putting pressure slightly above it. Charlie's eyes followed what she was doing, but it was as if he wasn't all there. Jean started to wonder if this was still just the effect of the fever and sleep, or if there was something wrong.
"Charlie, did you hurt anything when you fell?"
Charlie blinked, a small furrow appearing at the top of his nose.
"I fell?"
Jean sighed.
"Here... can you put your fingers here and hold?" she asked while navigating his other hand to the spot she was pressing. She cringed when she saw the cast getting smeared by some of the blood, but there were more important things to do than worry about that.
"Alright, good job. Now I want you to hold it and stay where you are, okay? I will be right back."
His eyes followed her lazily until she got up to her feet and turned to head for the door.
"Wait, you leaving?" he asked with a hint of panic.
Jean turned back towards him.
"Only for a minute, Charlie. I need to talk to Lucien."
Hearing the name seemed to calm him down a bit and he took another look around the room, trying to place himself. His eyes landed on the door.
"Can you..." Charlie started then paused, looking embarrassed.
"What?" Jean pressed for him to continue. She didn't feel right leaving him alone upset if there was something that could help.
"-leave it open," Charlie muttered, his eyes suddenly stuck to the floor.
"Oh. Of course," Jean said softly and left the door slightly open. She would've left if wide ajar if not for the fact there was a chance of a patient passing by and spotting Charlie in his state. They were trying to keep his presence a secret after all.
She made her way towards the surgery, hoping that Lucien was mostly done with his patient. She knocked on the door and entered. Mrs. Hendricks was seated in the chair in front of Blake's desk, talking about her newest grandchild, while Lucien was obviously trying to suppress a yawn. Jean would've smiled if she hadn't known why her husband was so tired mid afternoon. As it was she gave Mrs. Hendricks a smile, apologized for the disruption and walked up to Lucien.
Blake's eyes had glinted in appreciation, a small smile adorning his face as he looked at her. It warmed her heart that even after several years of knowing each other, her presence in the room was enough to light him up. Unfortunately, this wasn't just a friendly visit to save him from Mrs. Hendricks's stories.
"What's the matter, dear?" he asked, a smidge of concern that no one else would note colouring his voice.
"I'm afraid I had a bit of mishap in the kitchen. Might need your help once you finish here."
"Oh dear, did you cut yourself on something?" Mrs. Hendricks asked, her hearing obviously not one of things that ailed her. Jean raised an eyebrow in question and followed the woman's look down to her fingers and the spots of blood on her skirt. Jean haven't noticed those before.
"Oh no, that's just... tomato sauce. I'm making pasta for lunch," she said with a smile. "I dropped something in the sink and can't get it out," she added, turning towards Blake, trying to dissuade any more questions.
"I'll be right there," Blake said, his eyes asking if there was a serious problem or not. It was more than clear to him Jean was fibbing. Jean gave a slight shake of head to calm him down.
"Thank you. Well, I better go and... clean up, I suppose," she said. "Have a nice day, Mrs. Hendricks," she said and left before the woman could say something else.
Jean wasn't happy about the fact they had to lie and tiptoe about Charlie's presence, but she recognized the fact some of Lucien's patients were the biggest gossipers in Ballarat. Better if they thought her clumsy than find out about Charlie. It will be bad enough once he got back on his feet and started appearing in town she supposed.
She stopped at the bathroom to grab some band aids at least, unsure how fast could Lucien get rid of his patient. When she returned back to the room she found Charlie in the exact same spot, sitting on the floor with a mildly horrified look on his face. Luckily, he at least kept his hand in place. When Jean approached carefully, he looked up at her and she knew he was more aware than before. His eyes guiltily slipped to her arm where a bruise was forming.
"Hey there," she said with a smile and squatted down next to him.
"Am sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to hurt you."
Jean shook her head.
"Stop with that," she muttered. "Charlie, can you look at me?" she asked, feeling exasperated when his eyes couldn't meet hers. She touched his chin, gently nudging him to look up. When he finally did she had to force down a sigh. He looked like a kicked dog... literally.
"What if it had been the other way around?"
Charlie's brows furrowed.
"Huh?"
"What if I was the one being caught in a nightmare and you decided to wake me up? What if I grabbed the first thing nearby and smashed it on you? Would you blame me for getting startled too?"
Charlie shook his head.
"No. But that's different," he said.
"Oh. How so?" Jean raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Well... you are..." Charlie paused.
Jean waited.
The corner of her lips twitched in an attempt not to smile, but Charlie must've caught that.
"I mean... it's... different," he stuttered and looked away, though this time it wasn't as much from guilt as fear of insulting her.
"Because I'm a woman? Charlie... do you think I would do less damage with say... a lamp, than you did by showing me aside?"
Charlie was smart enough not to comment on that.
"That's what I thought. Now... no more talk about this. There's nothing you need to feel guilty about, understood?"
Charlie gave a gruff nod. Jean sighed. She knew this was mostly just to placate her, that it will take a bit of time for Charlie to stop feeling guilty. After all, he was raised to respect women and never raise a hand to one. Even though this was a total accident.
She used the time before Blake arrived to put a band aid on the wound on his arm and helped him extricate his legs from the tangled up blanket.
"Ah, are we having a slumber party on the floor?" asked a voice from the door, causing both of them to jump slightly. "One I wasn't invited to?"
Blake sauntered into the room, looking almost aloof, though Jean saw it was just a show. Charlie had frozen momentarily, shooting a startled look towards Jean. As if afraid that she would accuse him of attacking her, right there in front of Blake. Jean pushed down the urge to sigh and leave in search for some sherry. That could wait. Instead she stepped away from Charlie, making space for Lucien.
"I would've told you about it, but it was a spur of the moment event," Jean said easily.
"Hm. I can see that. Been a bit rowdy, haven't you Charlie?" Blake noted the fallen coat hanger. He reached for Charlie's arm, peeling off the band aid. The site had stopped bleeding already.
"Fortunately, it doesn't look like there's any damage," he noted, inspecting the wound. "What happened?" he asked and looked from Charlie to Jean when there was no quick answer oncoming. Jean waited too but when she saw that Charlie was watching the blanket now lying in a heap next to him, she gave up.
"I was in the kitchen when I heard the crash," she admitted, feeling just a tinge of guilt herself over leaving Charlie alone. Maybe she should've stuck around a bit longer and made lunch later. No, she decided. Guilt never solved anything and this was just a small mishap as she said before. "I found him on the floor, a bit confused."
Blake's eyes slid down to Jean's skirt with the blood spots, pausing at the bruise on her arm. He frowned but Jean gave him a sharp shake of head, warning from even thinking about posing the question. Fortunately Charlie didn't seem to notice the exchange, trying to pretend he didn't exist.
"What were you trying to do, Charlie?" Blake turned back to the patient in question, waiting patiently for an answer.
Charlie sighed, bit his lip.
"Got confused," he admitted. "Thought I was back at the basement."
"So you were trying to get out? And tripped?"
"Yeah."
Blake was waiting for more, but it wasn't coming. Finally he gave up.
"Alright. Let's get you up off the floor and back to bed so I can check you didn't hurt anything."
"Wait," Jean said as Blake was helping Charlie up to his feet. "Can you move to the chair for a moment? I think I'd like to change the sheets first," she said.
"Right. Good idea," Blake noted even as he was navigating Charlie towards the chair. Charlie grimaced, obviously not so happy about having Jean doing it, but realizing he wasn't in any condition to change the sheets himself. In the end, he just sniffled, face scrunching up in disgust.
"I need a shower," he muttered.
Blake chuckled.
"Yes, but I think it should wait a bit," he noted as he started checking Charlie over. By the time he finished, Jean had the bed ready and Charlie looked too happy to just plop down into it face down, hoping to let the pillows suffocate him. Blake's prodding obviously awakened most of his hurts and aches.
"Well, you seem to be in luck," Blake called out with a smile as he finished the check. "No new breaks or bruises, even the stitches held."
Charlie let out a sigh of relief.
"Great. Can I go back to my room?"
Blake quirked his head.
"What, now that Jean did all the work of changing the sheets?"
Charlie's face flushed.
"Lucien, stop nagging the boy," Jean told him in mock exasperation. "He is right though. You should stay here a bit longer. I need to finish making lunch and I'd prefer not to hear you tumbling down the stairs."
"Yes indeed. Not to mention, that would just give Matthew one less thing to grumble about. I heard he is truly enjoying your bed."
Charlie looked at them in slight disbelief, but didn't have the energy to argue. He shrugged.
"Wonderful. Into bed with you."
Blake helped Charlie over to the mattress. It was only after he was lying down and tucked in that Jean noted the coat hanger on the floor.
"What about that?" she asked Lucien. Charlie followed her look and cringed.
"Ah yes," Blake noted, giving Charlie a thoughtful look. "Actually, I think we can get rid of that for now. I was planning on taking it out once the drip finished anyway, but Charlie here beat me to it," he said with a grin, then turned serious.
"As long as you keep hydrated and eat something. I don't want to give you pills on empty stomach."
Charlie nodded eagerly.
"I'll try."
"Wonderful. Now... I'm expecting one more patient. Why don't you try to get back to sleep? We will wake you up for lunch."
Charlie nodded hesitantly. It was obvious he didn't really want to go back to sleep, but his body had its own mind. He yawned and his eyes slipped closed.
Jean and Blake were by the door already when he called out:
"Doc?"
"Yes Charlie?"
"Did... did you hear from my mom?"
"Not since last night, no," Blake said with a confused frown. "I think Matthew was planning to call her tonight though."
"Could you... make sure?" Charlie yawned again.
"Of what?"
"That they're safe."
"Your family?"
Charlie nodded, though his eyes were already closed.
"Of course. Don't worry about it, Charlie."
"Thanks," he muttered and turned his head, burrowing his cheek in the pillow.
Blake and Jean exchanged a look, then quietly left the room. Blake was about to close the door when Jean stopped him.
"Leave it open," she said in a low voice. "I want to hear if he starts moving around," she said as an explanation, even though it was only half the truth. She knew that one of the reasons Charlie panicked was the closed door on a room that was foreign to him. Maybe seeing that he had the option to leave, even if half asleep, will calm him down.
Blake followed her to the kitchen and only once they were out of Charlie's earshot did he reach for her arm to inspect the bruise.
"What really happened?" he asked, brushing his finger gently over the irritated skin. Jean rolled her eyes. It was hardly anything serious and she was getting way more irritated by the reaction of the men around her.
"Nothing you need to be concerned about Lucien," she said sharply, but instantly regretted it as she saw the hurt look on Lucien's face. She sighed.
"I startled him, that's all. Whatever happened in those last two weeks has him rattled."
Blake nodded.
"Yes, I noticed. I think I made the same mistake when I approached him at the bus station."
"Don't bring it up before him," she pleaded. "He feels guilty as is."
"I won't. Just be more careful. I don't want either of you hurt."
She smiled and put a palm on his cheek.
"I do love you Lucien," she said, leaning in for a kiss.
"Still?" he asked with a boyish smirk.
"Always," she said with a chuckle, then gave his cheek a light pat. "Now go. I think I can hear your next patient knocking," she said as there was the knocking on the door. Blake sighed and pulled out of her embrace reluctantly.
"I should have taken the day off," he muttered halfway out the kitchen. Jean chuckled and turned towards the stove. Well, the soup won't make itself, she thought and turned on the burner.