A/N: This is a little bit of a breather chapter before we get into the final showdown of the fic. I must admit, I wrote this one in the height of the quarantine time and as such I felt a bit more familiar with Charlie's reaction :D Hope everyone is doing alright and thank you all for reading 3

Sleeping was impossible. More and more Charlie found himself tossing and turning at the early morning hours, mind filled with frustration and body aching from too little exercise. It was a week now since he returned to Ballarat. The infection in his leg had fortunately responded well to Doc's treatment and none of his other wounds were serious enough to require more intensive care. Even the stab wound in his stomach was healing up nicely.

It was no wonder really. He had barely done more than take a shower and read. The broken arm effectively kept him from helping out in the kitchen. Not to mention, everyone in the household seemed to be extra protective of him. Which would have been fine, Charlie really didn't mind all the attention. It was nice, he had to admit to himself, even though it felt a bit strange. Especially when even Lawson seemed to take it easy on him and kept himself from bossing him around. Although that might've had more to do with Jean's glare whenever he tried.

For a while, Charlie took in all the care he was getting without question. He didn't feel strong enough to refuse anyway, more often than not shaky from a nightmare or still weary from a low grade fever that refused to leave. The Doc said it was just his body being overworked and needing time to heal.

Charlie accepted that and so he took frequent naps, ate what was put on his plate, read whatever book Blake or Jean dropped off on his table or recommended. He was a model patient, because he simply didn't have the energy to be anything else.

But the week had gone by. His body was slowly getting back to normal and the naps became less and less frequent. And when he did take one, it resulted in a restless night, such as this one.

Too much time to think, his body thrumming with nervous energy, unable to stay still even though the tossing and turning still irritated the fading bruises or healing bones.

Charlie growled and sat up, giving up pretence of sleep. The clock showed it was almost five in the morning.

He longed for a run, his whole body throbbing for some release. He had enough of the self imposed isolation.

So far no one else knew he was back home and if it was up to Lawson, Charlie would most likely be locked up in his room until the trial. Unfortunately, that was scheduled no earlier than in three weeks. Charlie was sure he would go crazy long before that.

He already felt like the walls were closing in on him.

He was never one to sit around and feel useless, but ever since his imprisonment in the basement, Charlie was getting antsy about closed doors and staying inside. The better he felt, the harder it was to make excuses for not going out.

Ten minutes later, Charlie found himself standing outside, in the garden. He didn't even realize how he managed to get dressed and brave the stairs in the darkness of the early morning, all without waking up anyone else, but he did.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest move, leaving without a note, but Charlie figured he could just go for a short walk around the house. Maybe few meters down the path leading to the river. He was sure there wouldn't be anyone to recognize him at this hour. The milkman or the newspaper boy would come from the other side of the house at a later time.

The fresh air on his face felt like magic. It was crisp and smelled of the morning dew and Charlie took a moment just to breathe in lungfuls of it, or at least as much as his ribs allowed without protest.

A small smile pulled at his lips.

This was what he needed. Being able to move, without anyone keeping him under lock. He knew he wasn't really being fair to the Doc or Lawson, after all, they were just trying to keep him safe. But Charlie didn't want to feel like a prisoner in his home anymore.

Slowly, he headed down the path from the house. The darkness was starting to lift. He still couldn't see much so his steps were careful, but he knew this path well. Had been running on it for the last three years.

As the sky was getting lighter, Charlie's steps became quicker. He could feel his leg and side throbbing, but his muscles seemed to work on memory. Soon his body wished to feel the wind against his face and the thrilling rush of endorphins from a good run. His mind went peacefully blank and Charlie felt free.

It didn't last long.

One wrong step sent a jolt of pain up his leg and side. Charlie grunted and came to a sudden halt, his chest heaving, trying to get in enough air.

'Dumb, Davis, that was dumb,' he thought, leaned over, gasping and praying he wouldn't heave. Few more minutes of being hunched over and cursing his eagerness, Charlie finally got the stitch in his side under control.

Swallowing down what seemed to be a rock in his throat, Charlie straightened and brushed the sweat from his forehead.

He looked around and realized that in his zealousness to move he managed to make it over a mile from the house. He was by the river. And the sun was coming up.

Sighing, Charlie turned his back to the path that usually just meant the starting point of his morning run. He might've been eager to leave the house, but he wasn't stupid. There ought to be other people running in the morning shortly and he was in no condition to face any of them. Not to mention, after the first rush of endorphins, his body realised it wasn't really ready for all the action yet. Now it was giving out loud protests and Charlie had to acknowledge the fact he might've overdone it just a bit.

Well, maybe he could still make it back home and somehow manage to sneak back into his room without being spotted. He wasn't sure how anyone would react if they saw him like this... covered in sweat, panting for breath and yes, limping.

Charlie cursed his recklessness and headed back towards the house.

The walk this time took much longer. He had to pause a few times, once even leaning against a tree for stability. He was hoping that he might at least calm down his breathing in case he had to face someone from the house. He might pretend he just went out to get the newspaper. Yes, that might work.

By the time Charlie made it back, he almost wished he had truly only taken the short walk around the house. He was limping and ready to crawl into the bed, but he knew that was hardly an option. Even as he neared the house, he could already smell the sizzling bacon and fresh coffee. Grimacing, Charlie still attempted to enter the house and sneak back into his room, unnoticed.

He couldn't believe his luck when he actually managed.

It was with eyes wide with bewilderment and heart pumping way too fast that he closed the door of his room. He leaned against it and let out a chuckle. Why did he feel as if he had just managed to sneak back home from a party as a sixteen year old?

Shaking his head, Charlie shot a longing look towards his bed. He could snuggle in it and get a short nap. After all, there was nothing to do anyway. Jean would surely understand. He was ready to fall back into his sheets when he caught a whiff of his sweat dampened shirt. Grimacing, Charlie knew he could hardly rest that way. Shower it was then.

Grabbing a pair of fresh clothes, Charlie sneaked out of his room once more.

He painstakingly put a plastic bag around his casted arm then slipped under the shower. The water felt like heaven on his skin and he almost fell asleep right then and there. It was only the knocking on the door and Lawson's growling voice that broke through his relaxed state of mind.

"Davis, I swear if you didn't leave any warm water I'll keep you on desk duty till kingdom comes!"

"Damn!" Charlie cursed and turned off the water that was already turning lukewarm. "Uh, sorry Boss," he shouted.

He got a growl in reply and the sound of retreating footsteps. Well, so much for not pissing off the man.

Five minutes later he headed back downstairs. Since Lawson already knew he was up and hogging the bathroom, returning to bed would be moot. So Charlie decided getting breakfast and then excusing himself might be a better plan.

Unfortunately, his little run wasn't without consequences. His side and leg were sending angry signals to him about overdoing it, so he walked into the kitchen with a limp and an arm pushed protectively close to his side. He tried to look as if nothing was the matter, but when three sets of eyes looked his way it was hard to appear unbothered. Still, he said good morning to all and settled on the chair.

"Is your leg bothering you again?" Blake asked even before Charlie could reach for the glass of juice. He shot him a startled look and a quick shake of a head.

"Uh no, it's fine," Charlie fibbed.

"Uh huh," Blake said, his eyes narrowing as Charlie took a sip of the juice. Damn, but he was thirsty, he realised as he gulped down the whole glass in one go.

It wasn't until he put down the glass that he noted both Blake and Jean eyeing him. Lawson at least seemed to keep his eyes to the newspaper, only shooting Charlie a glare over it and muttering something about tying him to the desk until he learned not to hog the water.

Charlie blushed, then startled as a cool slim hand brushed against his forehead.

"You feel warm again," Jean noted with disdain.

"I took a shower," Charlie conquered quickly. "I'm fine," he said, giving a reassuring smile. He wasn't about to confess to his morning run now when he was in the clear. He would rather pretend he just had a bad night's sleep. That shouldn't be so farfetched after all. Really, no reason for everyone to eye him with suspicion.

Or maybe it was just paranoia caused by tiredness. Charlie wasn't sure. He ate some of the breakfast, fighting off the yawns with growing intensity. He asked about the news in the paper, about Lawson's plans for the day.

"Boss? I was thinking..." Charlie started once he felt he couldn't take one more bite. Lawson raised his eyes from the eggs, half questioning half glaring.

"You were?"

"Matthew!" Jean scoffed while Blake bit down a chuckle at the look of indignation on Lawson's face.

"Cold water, Jean! He doesn't even have to go to work, there's no reason to shower that early."

"That's... actually, that's what I wanted to ask about," Charlie jumped in, cringing at his own timing. Maybe asking while Lawson was pissed off wasn't the best idea, but he could hardly back out now.

"Don't," Lawson warned him, obviously knowing where this was going.

Charlie didn't relent though.

"But Boss... you can't keep me here forever," he said and hoped it didn't come out as a whine.

Lawson's brow furrowed.

"Oh, I definitely can," he said. "And if not forever, at least until the trial."

"Come on... I can't stay home that long."

"It has been barely a week, Charlie," Jean stepped in, soothing. Charlie sighed, glaring at the empty glass.

"Feels like a month already," he grumbled. "I can be on desk duty."

Lawson snorted.

"Sure. Perhaps you also want to advertise your return to Ballarat in The Courier?" he asked, mockingly.

"It's not like no one would notice me for a month. I'm pretty sure one of the Doc's patients already saw me yesterday."

"And whose fault was that?" Lawson growled.

Charlie shrugged.

"Not my fault the kid was scared of needles and ran upstairs," Charlie answered. He had tried to send the boy back down before his mother made it upstairs but didn't manage. While the woman wasn't the most gossipy one, Charlie was pretty sure in few days his presence will be known, whatever they did. "Maybe it will be better to come up with some... story," he noted, motioning towards the fading bruises on his face. "And let me get back to my job."

"Right now I'm not sure you should even be out of bed," Blake stepped in, giving Charlie an assessing look.

Charlie sighed.

"I'm fine, Doc," he argued though it was hard when his mouth almost split in half with a huge yawn. He shook it off, grimacing. "I just didn't get much sleep."

Blake hummed.

"See? Asking for a job yet unable to stay awake through the breakfast," Lawson commented and it was clear that the topic of Charlie's return was closed for the moment.

Charlie wanted to argue, but that would mean confessing his early morning adventure and he wasn't suicidal yet. So he huffed and at least grabbed the now discarded newspaper. He wished to go upstairs to his bed, but decided to wait until the others left. He didn't want to give Lawson another reason to keep him home because he noticed a limp or something.

His plan seemed to be working, at least as far as staying at the table. Lawson had headed off to work and after some deliberation Blake had followed. Jean was cleaning up after the breakfast and Charlie felt guilty for not being much help. He at least tried to hand her some of the empty plates but Jean gave him an assessing look and sent him away.

"Go, rest. I can see your eyes are half closed already."

Charlie muttered he was fine, but she waved him off.

"You can help me later on with folding the laundry if you wish," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. Charlie gave a noncommittal reply. Folding wasn't his favourite past time, but it was still better than doing nothing.

He waited until Jean was turned towards the sink though and walked out of the kitchen. He made it to the stairs when he had to pause, realizing he might've just messed up. Sitting at the breakfast allowed his muscles to stiffen and both his leg and side were protesting the previous abuse.

Grimacing, Charlie grasped at the railing, thinking that he only needed to get up the stairs then he could crash.

Well, he managed at least part of that. Painstakingly slowly, he was almost at the top of the stairs when a cramp hit his calf.

Cursing, Charlie bent over, one hand grabbing at the throbbing limb, the other clutching the railing in dear hope that he won't tumble down.

He dug his fingers into the muscles, trying to push away the pain. Leaning over didn't do him any service though, his balance already precarious. Charlie saw the stairs sway and it was with wide eyes that he managed to push forward then flop unceremoniously on the floor, back leant against the banister.

His breathing was ragged and the leg still cramped. Charlie swore at himself, trying to get control over his body. Only few minutes, that was all he needed. For the cramp in his leg to fade and for the world to settle itself so he could go on and hide in his room.

It shouldn't have been a problem.

He was taking in measured breaths, trying to focus only on that. Maybe that was why he didn't notice a figure at the bottom of the stairs. The figure however did notice him.

Charlie had just managed to calm down, his leg finally relenting and body feeling as if he had finished a marathon. His eyes were closed and he was thinking one more minute, then he would move. Just one minute.

"Charlie! Are you alright?"

Charlie jerked his eyes open, startled. In front of him stood Jean, a look of concern etched deeply onto her face. Charlie noted that she didn't try to touch him either and he felt a pang of regret. She must've learned her lesson from few days ago.

"Uh... yeah?" he answered a bit shakily. Her eyes narrowed, arms crossed over her chest.

Charlie swallowed. He knew that look and it meant only one thing. Trouble.

Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking all like a scolded child. Blake almost felt sorry for him. Almost was the word though. When Jean called out to him that something was wrong with Charlie, he felt a jab of worry. He rushed up the stairs before he even heard Charlie's feeble attempts at convincing Jean she was overreacting.

Seeing him on the floor, pale and sweaty didn't do much for Blake's own nerves. While he logically knew Charlie should be alright, his injuries were healing, there was always something that could go wrong. Even a simple blood clot. Blake was already reprimanding himself for not checking him out after breakfast, but he didn't want to pester the boy too much and believed his explanation of simply not getting enough sleep.

"What's the matter here?" he asked even as he crouched down next to Charlie, hand automatically reaching to check his pulse. The paleness of Charlie's cheeks was quickly replaced by a splotch of red.

"I'm fine, Doc," Charlie said and it might've been more convincing if Blake didn't feel his pulse running like crazy. So instead of Charlie, he turned to Jean.

"I just found him here, half unconscious," she said, worry and annoyance battling in her voice.

"I was resting my eyes!" Charlie protested and with a grunt attempted to get up.

Blake's hold was enough to keep him down.

"You picked a peculiar place for that," he noted with a slight smile, trying to ease the tension. Charlie let out a sigh.

"I'm alright, Doc, really. I just..." Charlie looked down, grumbling something under his breath. Blake frowned.

"What was that?"

"I overdid it is all," Charlie huffed, still unable to look him in the eye. Blake's brows rose and he shared a confused look with Jean.

"What do you mean?"

"Went for a walk earlier," Charlie admitted, then finally raised his head, giving them a guilty look. Blake wasn't sure if he should laugh out of relief, or scold him for giving them a scare. Jean went for the second option.

"Charlie! What were you thinking?" she started and Charlie winced.

"Sorry?" he tried, while shooting Blake a pleading look.

Blake decided to take pity on the boy.

"Alright. Let's get you up and more comfortable," he said, offering Charlie his arm. Charlie grasped it thankfully and managed to get back up on his feet. He grimaced but once upright, he looked steady enough that Blake felt himself calm down.

Ten minutes later, he was even calmer, though admittedly slightly puzzled. He gave Charlie a quick check-up and noted that the healing wound on his side seemed a bit irritated and the muscles in his leg were sore. Charlie's pulse had slowed down considerably and he seemed more embarrassed than anything at this point. Blake managed to convince Jean that they wouldn't need her help and she left with a huff and a warning glare towards Charlie.

"You better behave, young man. Running around in the woods in the morning," she shook her head in disbelief as she left the room.

Blake wanted to give him the benefit of doubt. He understood how someone young and usually healthy might feel cooped up in the house after several days. There was nothing wrong about a small walk either. He was about to offer that option to Charlie later on today anyway, a bit of exercise and fresh air might've done him good. However, seeing Charlie cringe at Jean's parting words, Blake's own eyes narrowed. Now the irritated wound and sore muscles made more sense.

"Were you actually running?" he asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

A pair of blue eyes looked up at him hesitantly, the head giving a nod.

Blake huffed. Maybe he should've just let Jean stay. He was sure she would give Charlie a proper lecture.

"Why would you do something like that? After all we did to get you back on your feet?"

It wasn't meant to be a reprimand, more like a genuine question. Charlie still cringed.

"I just... had to."

Blake's eyebrow rose. Charlie looked at him, eyes filled with emotions that were startlingly familiar to Blake.

"I wasn't planning on running, I think I just got caught up in the moment? I haven't been out on a run for ages now. And the last three weeks were just... rooms and places with locks. I felt trapped I suppose," Charlie went off, trying to explain. "Being outside felt-" Charlie paused, unsure how to finish.

"Freeing?" Blake spoke and Charlie blinked at him, surprised.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"I understand that," Blake sighed. "I've been locked up in places too. It... has a way of getting into your head."

Charlie frowned.

"This was nothing like what you went through, Doc," Charlie said and Blake understood he didn't mean it in a way to diminish Blake's experience, rather his own.

"It doesn't matter how long or under what circumstances, Charlie. Captivity always leaves a mark."

Charlie bit at his lip, fingers clapping nervously against the mattress.

"It's alright. It will pass," Blake said, putting one hand on top of Charlie's to still the restless fingers.

Charlie looked up at Blake, hopeful.

"Soon?"

Blake shrugged.

"Maybe. However long it takes, you can handle it."

Charlie sighed, back to his sullen mood.

"I can't stay hiding in the house for much longer, Doc. I will go crazy."

"Few more days, hm? I have no problem with you going for walks-" Blake raised his finger. "Walks. No bloody running. Then we can see if you will be up for some light duty."

Charlie's eyes brightened.

"Thanks Doc," he said and Blake rolled his eyes.

"Now you only need to follow the doctor's orders. Shouldn't be that hard, right?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"No, it shouldn't," Charlie answered with a twitch of his lips.

Blake knew right then that it wouldn't be easy either.