A/N - Huge thank you for your reviews and messages last chapter. I know I always say it but they really do mean a lot and motivate me to update sooner. I'm glad you're enjoying this and hope you enjoy this chapter also. xxx


A Fairytale By Another Name

Charlie's return is signalled when the front door flies open and ricochets back off of the wall, leaving a handle-shaped dent as a token gesture. It's close to 2am and the sudden intrusion makes her realise she's been dozing on the couch, about which panic sets in when she can't immediately locate her gun, and only ceases when she finds it beside her feet on the floor.

He's drunk: Erin can already smell the alcohol radiating off of him and he's barely stepped into the living room. She figures there's no plan yet - he'd have been more purposeful and much more sober if there was - and whether or not he's driven back seems irrelevant because she's so unbelievably tired that the only words she has the energy left to say are,

"It's your turn to stay up. I'm going to bed."

He doesn't argue and he doesn't tell her he's come up with something to get them out of this either. All in all, pretty much what she's come to expect.

Erin checks on Jack before slipping into her own room and swapping her jeans and sweater for an old pair of leggings, hoodie and thick socks to keep out the cold. It's been too long, she thinks, she's she's slept next to Charlie so his body heat can keep her warm. Too long also, since she's been held by him (or even held by anyone) and she finds herself looking forward to the day Jack can offer his arms in a hug.

Her train of thought drifts to Jay as it so often does during the minutes she isn't down in the basement with him, and she finds herself wondering whether or not he holds anyone at night. Sure, he's left behind his brother but does he have a girlfriend? A family of his own? She's never thought about it before and she doesn't think she's seen a wedding ring on his left hand but that doesn't mean there isn't someone much like herself (except wholly inherently better than she is) waiting by the phone; listening out for any noise that might signal his key in the lock or his boots outside the door.

It almost doesn't matter though, she figures, because whether or not there is someone waiting for him at home, Jay isn't going to get the chance to see them again - at least, not if all of this plays out the way Charlie intends it.

Erin curls up under the sheets, drawing her legs to her chest so she's conserving as much heat as possible, her head resting on the pillow and again, her thoughts turn to Jay and the single blanket she'd given him; his lack of pillow and no doubt aching neck; his red, broken skin so alike her own hands when the wet and the searing cold attack them if she's forgotten gloves. She should take him a pillow at least. A pillow and a hot drink of sorts - maybe a coffee, but then that would defeat the object wouldn't it? This can wait until the morning, Erin tells herself, this display of guilt so obvious it might as well come with a neon sign. But then, it's cold now. It's night now. Her eyes and limbs protest as she moves the sheets back but trying to sleep is probably futile anyway: her brain isn't about to switch off any time soon so she can get some rest.

There's a spare blanket in the cupboard that she drags out, the patchwork squares pulling up a kaleidoscope of images before her eyes. She hasn't used this blanket since the last night she spent living on the street; had washed it and put it away the day Charlie brought her here with the hope that she'd never need it again (but the knowledge too, that she might) but Jay doesn't need to know its significance.

There are four pillows on her bed: two of which are redundant for the remainder of the time he spends down in the basement and so Erin tucks one under her arm, the blanket draped over the top and she grabs the gun with her spare hand, stopping only to put her boots on.

Charlie is, as she suspected he would be, pretty much comatose on the couch with the only indication he's alive being the loud snores. She thinks of Jack back upstairs but then Jay's words filter through: if you're going to know one thing, it's that I wouldn't hurt a kid. Somehow, she believes him. She unlocks the basement door, clicks on the light and waits the obligatory twenty seconds for the bulb to work properly before heading down, gun extended as always.

Jay's blinking in the sudden light at her when she edges closer, red-eyed and wracked with exhaustion.

"Brought you these," she tells him. "Maybe you can sleep."

He seems to stare at her for a while like he's unsure as to whether she means it; whether she's going to dangle these two luxury items in front of him and then take them away again. But then he finds his words, rough and dry in the cold. "Thank you."

She wishes he wouldn't thank her. It makes it harder, going back upstairs and knowing he's grateful for the scraps of basic human decency she grants him when Charlie seems dead set on giving nothing. Instead of voicing this however, Erin simply nods and turns.

"Can you…" Jay trails off, indicating the pillow and blanket with a movement of his head. "I can't adjust them myself."

Well of course. Another oversight and she lets out a sigh she didn't know she was holding. She sets the gun down - pointed towards him of course - and picks up the pillow.

"Against the radiator?" Her voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.

"Yeah."

Erin leans forward to secure the pillow behind Jay's head. There isn't much room and she makes the mistake of looking towards him when he leans his head back. Suddenly, he's everywhere: his scent invading her nostrils; breath tickling her neck (and somehow not tickling it too; somehow something much more significant than just tickling) eyes burning into hers and she feels her own breathing falter - feels it catch and stick in her throat so she's forced to swallow hard several times.

"You want the blanket too?"

"Yes," His lips are so, so overwhelmingly close. Dangerously close. "Please."

Tearing her eyes away, she steps back towards the folded blanket with its patchwork squares and hidden secrets. His arms catch her eye: folded and bound to the radiator, but they look strong. Full, she decides, like a shield. And she finds herself on that train of thought she had upstairs earlier - the one where she wonders whether he holds anyone at night; wonders too, what it would feel like to be held by him.

"Erin?" he asks, and it breaks her from it, makes her look back at his face.

"Sorry," she replies without thinking, only realising after that it's the first time she's said it.

She bends to tuck the material round him and he offers the smallest hint of a smile. "Thank you."

She can't hear it again and simply nods, picks up the gun and heads back upstairs. By the time she lays back down in her bed, tears are streaming down her face and she does the only thing she can, and screams into the pillow.

X

Charlie joins her at some point, making the mattress dip so she ends up rolling a little towards the middle. He smells like stale alcohol and cigarettes but he puts his arm around her and for the first time in so long, it feels comforting - having him so close. She leaves it a minute; allows herself that window of time to shift closer to him before she breaks it.

"Jay -"

"- He's tied to the radiator Erin. He isn't going anywhere."

She knows that, she thinks, deep down. The culmination of the rope and his injured leg and the locked door are preventing an escape, but she can't rest if at least one of them isn't between Jay and Jack. And the thing is, as big as Charlie is, she still trusts herself more to fight that battle - to be the one to protect their son - so she extracts herself from the sheets and his arm so she can check on Jack first, then wait out the time until dawn downstairs.

Her baby boy is sound asleep, dressed in a navy sleepsuit that keeps his feet warm and lying underneath a blanket that stops him from wriggling too far into the side of his crib. Erin just watches him for a while, noting the way his tiny lips are parted and his eyelids are fluttering, deep in the throes of a dream and ignorant to the man in his parents' basement.

She leaves his room after a while though, her gun by her side as always, and trudges sleepily down the stairs and to the coffee machine. She's barely two sips in, searching the cupboard for the animal crackers to snack on when she hears the clang of the radiator in the basement. It seems almost like Jay can sense it's her up above him and she wonders whether maybe he can: he is a cop after all.

He speaks before she does. She's barely stepped onto the second stair when he tells her he needs to use the bathroom.

"I'll get a tie," she tells him, turning on the spot to retrieve one of the plastic strands from the kitchen.

When she returns, he's watching her intently. "You okay?"

His question actually makes her laugh. "You shouldn't be asking me that."

"I am though."

"I know. And you care? Really?"

"You're the one bringing me food and letting me go to the bathroom," he tells her softly, "So…"

"Right."

She avoids his question and sets the gun down instead, focusing her attention on the rope. She knows his eyes are trained on her but she keeps herself rigid, willing her hands not to shake.

"You're cold." He states.

"I'm always cold." Her voice is flat and she's appreciative.

"The second blanket's better," Jay tells her. "It's warm."

Erin only nods.

"The pillow too. I got some sleep."

She wants him to stop talking. It's too early (or too late, depending on whether dawn is closer than dusk at this point) "Uh huh."

She cuts the tie but they both recognise the problem as soon as she hands him the bucket.

"I'll figure it out," he tells her, referencing his injured leg and current position.

She turns forty-five degrees so he's in her peripheral vision but she doesn't actually have to see anything. It becomes clear though, from the way he's sucking in his breath, that he's in pain. Using the radiator to brace himself against, he just about manages and Erin's more than grateful to hear his zipper.

"Tha -" he starts, signaling he's done, but she cuts him off.

"- Don't. Don't thank me."

She feels sick with guilt. Wonders what her comeuppance will be either later on in this life or in the next one. She can only pray that whatever it is doesn't affect Jack: he shouldn't have to live with all of the mistakes she's made. And that guilt makes her commit her next mistake.

"You want breakfast?"

"What're you offering?" Something's shifted in his voice despite the struggle he's having to sit back down. "Eggs Florentine?"

She doesn't know what that is but somehow, she's embarrassed; she doesn't want him to find out her knowledge of breakfast foods is less than admirable and so she makes a joke instead. One that falls flat and tastes sour.

"Sounds like something your girlfriend would make you eat at Sunday brunch with her parents."

Jay doesn't laugh, but seems to sense her discomfort and rather than closing their conversation, he lightens it. She doesn't deserve it. "Buttermilk pancakes then. Or anything with bacon. I'd kill for a tray of crispy bacon right now." He seems to realise his own mistake and so this time Erin steps in.

"I think there's some frozen waffles in the freezer. I can probably make some rubbery scrambled eggs too if you're interested, but there's no bacon."

He smiles, actually fucking smiles at her and something in her chest tightens so much it feels like it's going to snap.

"Rubbery scrambled eggs and waffles sounds great."

"No," she says, reaching to bind his wrists back together with the cable tie. "It doesn't."

X

"Nothing for you?" Jay asks when she brings down his plate and spoon.

"I'll eat later."

"It'll go cold."

"It's not like that would be the worst thing about it," she tries to joke as she cuts the brand new cable tie, unsure why she's even bothering to put in the effort to keep things light when the reality is anything but. "I'm not great at cooking." An involuntary shiver passes through her, knocking her teeth together so they chatter loudly.

"Here," he says, holding out the blanket for her.

It makes her stop to look at him - really look at him. Yes, his eyes are puffy and rimmed with red but they're soft too. Kind. Concerned for her welfare even, not that he has any business in that department.

Erin shakes her head and gestures at the plate. "Eat it before it goes cold."

He does and she watches him cut the waffles with the spoon, devouring them along with the eggs like she's made him a gourmet meal. She finds him more fascinating than she should - this six foot man with his strong arms and bruised face; the bluest cut-glass eyes that should watch her with utter hatred but never do.

"You're a bad cop," she tells him when he's done, the plate so clean it looks like he's licked it.

The words slip out before she can catch them, spilling into the basement with its freezing air and echoing space. Something like humour flickers in Jay's eyes but leaves again before she can pin it down to decipher it fully. "Because I ended up here?"

"'Cause your brother is buying drugs off of a man like…" she stops short of saying Charlie's name.

"Like your boyfriend."

She nods.

"And I didn't stop him."

"Why didn't you?"

He seems to huff out a sigh but she finds herself curious about his answer and waits for the words to come. She probably shouldn't. She does anyway.

"He has his reasons for using them."

"Aren't you mad at him?" Erin asks.

"For what?"

"Being here."

A sound part-way between a chuckle and another sigh escapes his lips. "I'm here because your boyfriend knocked me out," he says. "Not because my brother uses."

A fair assessment, she figures, but her questions seem to have given him the idea that this conversation can be turned on its head. "Why are you with him?"

She's not stupid. She knows he's referring to Charlie, even though he doesn't know his name. "You're loyal to him," Jay continues. "You don't use his name; don't argue with him; you let him sleep when you're exhausted -"

"- He's…" she starts, mainly just to cut him off so she doesn't have to hear it, her eyes cast down at the floor.

"He's what?"

The father of my child, she thinks. The reason I'm not living on the streets; the reason I'm not using; the reason I don't have to sell myself for food.

"He's what, Erin?" She looks back up at his use of her name, all soft and careful but insistent somehow. She's just not sure what it is that he's waiting for.

"You done?" she asks instead, changing the subject and gesturing to the plate he's holding - the answer to her question blindingly obvious. He seems to understand that's all he's going to get and nods.

"It was good."

"No it wasn't."

"Okay, it wasn't Wildberry, but it was better than my mom used to make."

The sudden mention of his mother shouldn't throw her off centre but it does; makes her wonder if he too had the kind of childhood where he was never sure what he was going to come home from school to. Where there was an equal chance of finding a box of crackers or a mouse in the kitchen cupboard. But then she decides no, he's too good for that. Too clean and gentle - no hard edges left to defend himself with. Erin only nods and gestures to the radiator.

"Can I have five minutes?" he asks. "To use my feet?"

"No."

"Erin, please -"

"- You think because I brought you food and you talked about your family that this somehow makes us friends? Like I'm going to go easy on you?"

She notes the sag of his body against the cold metal and hates herself even more. But she can't be the weak link; can't break Charlie's trust.

"I don't think that," he tells her. "But I can hardly feel my legs and my back is killing me."

She wants to let him, she really does. But she can't. "I'll come down later," she decides aloud. "You can stand then."

Jay nods and she swallows. Hard.

Her hands shake as she's tying him back up but this time he doesn't still them with his own. Her skin seems to burn as he watches her but all the time she keeps her own gaze fixed on the rope until it's secure and she can pick up the empty plate.

Neither of them say anything more as she heads up the stairs and locks the door behind her.