A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I've recently started a new job and haven't had much time for anything. So my writing has suffered. Events in this chapter are from the film mingled with scenes of Rachel, so I do apologise if anything is off; I've tried my best as I haven't watched the film in some time; thanks to my good friend Debbie for helping me with some of the dialogue. You're a star! We've all seen the film so I'm not going to do a blow by blow account of it. Here is the next chapter. Please review.
Chapter Nineteen
[Arizona, June 1887]
Charlie walked into the saloon behind Wade, keeping his head low as he did so. Behind him were Campos, Kinter and Jackson. He couldn't help but feel a sly smile spread across his face, thinking on how that bastard Darden had took a bullet in the skull from Wade. How he'd kept his hands from around the smug little shit's throat still puzzled him after what he'd done to Rachel, or rather, attempted to do. It had been two whole days since she'd returned to her own time, leaving Charlie behind. Angry outbursts had become more frequent from him since the outfit had re-formed without Rachel riding with them; however, he'd seemed to cling to Wade a little more than usual, keeping by him as often as possible.
Once the money had been counted from that morning's raid on a Pinkerton coach, Charlie stepped up to the bar, watching Wade eye the maid. For a second he let his eyes fall to the wooden surface of the bar, thinking back on how he'd look at Rachel like that, wanting her. Wade ordered a round of drinks for his outfit and watched them all line up, one beside the other along the length of the bar. Mockingly, Charlie lifted his shot of whiskey, ready to give a toast. "Here's to the four we lost in battle; and here's to the Boss...who had to say goodbye to Tommy Darden today....and that's too bad." The words referring to Tommy rolled sarcastically off Charlie's tongue and a sly smirk slithered across his lips. In all honesty, he was glad the little fucker was dead.
Wade then spoke up to his men, his grey eyes stern. "Proverbs thirteen three: He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life; he that opens his mouth too wide shall bring on his own destruction."
"Amen," Charlie said softly.
"Tommy was weak. Tommy was stupid. Tommy is dead," Wade said, his voice growing a little more gruff and irritated.
"I drink to that," Charlie said quickly, downing his whiskey. He let the hot liquid pour down his parched throat, and tried hard to push away his painful memories of Rachel which would not leave him be. The rest of the men parted, leaving only Charlie and Ben Wade at the bar.
Charlie looked down again as he watched Wade's grey eyes study the maid behind the bar. He couldn't stop thinking about Rachel, and standing here beside Wade who was pre-occupied with a woman didn't particularly help matters. "Marshall's only half stupid; he's gonna be back soon," Charlie began, his voice softer this time. The memories of Rachel once again seemed to be weakening his natural defences of anger and hatred.
Images of Rachel flashed before his eyes and before he knew it, words came tumbling out his mouth. "Gonna cross the border. Ah won't be far...ah'll wait for you." For that split second in time, Charlie felt as if she were there standing right beside him and the words were meant for her. "Ah'll wait for you." Of course he would always wait for her.
"Alright, Charlie," Wade said, his eyes still glued to the maid. Charlie meanwhile looked away, realising his words; his eyes shifted and quickly he moved away, embarrassed.
Charlie walked out of the saloon and out onto the main high street of the town. His green eyes squinted beneath the brim of his hat, searching through the early morning sunshine for the rest of the outfit. No matter how much he tried to harden himself to the current situation, the pain became more and more unbearable. It dug into him, twisting inside and imbedding itself in Charlie's deepest depths. At night when he thought of her, it became so hard to breathe; the memories temporarily stopped even his simplest bodily function. Why was his life full of so much pain and sadness? After his violent childhood and dark teen years which had developed into a cold and shut off adulthood, something had come to him, a light which shone brightly through all those twenty six years of anger, hatred, violence and selfishness. Now that light had disappeared again, shooting back from where it came and Charlie knew he'd never see that light again and feel the warmth it brought to him.
xxx
Charlie sat on his horse, watching and waiting. How the hell had Wade got arrested? Everything that morning had happened so quickly; first he was standing in the saloon after counting out their profits from the stagecoach raid that morning, and then he watched the law dragging Wade out of the place in cuffs. Now he was watching them escort him to some run down shack in the middle of nowhere. As the coach stopped so did Charlie, his green eyes watching for activity. It was now his mission to get Wade out of this predicament.
Under the diminishing sun, Charlie waited still. In his breast pocket he pulled out the paper which was starting to weigh so heavily there, as if pressing on his heart, the one place which had been so badly damaged of late. Then he saw her; the drawing Wade had given him rested between his fingers, the edges fluttering gently in the wind. His green eyes trailed sadly down the drawn lines, wishing so badly that she'd somehow re-appear beside him...and this time stay. Charlie grit his teeth hard and angrily shoved the picture back in the inside pocket of his cream leather jacket.
[New York, September 2009]
Rachel spent most of her time now trying to keep her mind off Charlie which was a hell of a lot harder said than done. Laura seemed to have changed her tune and general behaviour towards Rachel; no longer did she look down her nose at her and scoff at her, but rather now she listened, showing that somewhere inside she actually gave a damn about her roommate.
Each night away from Charlie proved more and more difficult. It might have seemed more comfortable lying in a proper bed for once, but the comfort of having her love beside her proved even more satisfying. Whilst not physical warmth, the emotional warmth was enough to make her burn inside. His hat remained next to her or in her arms as she glanced blankly through the darkness, letting tears drip silently down her cheeks.
One particularly cool morning, Laura's friend Stacey joined the room mates at their apartment. She was the girl who had encouraged everyone into saying the original spell which had sent Rachel hurtling through time. The overly made up Goth girl sat opposite Rachel at the table with Laura to her left and looked through the yellow, aged pages of the spell book she'd used. "I've never known stuff like this actually work. It's mostly done for pranks," Stacey said, her dark eyes studying the page carefully which had the spell written on it. "Wait, it's got something in small print at the bottom here..." she mumbled, her chubby finger tracing the line, reading the print.
Rachel craned her neck over, trying to get a better look at the page, her elbows digging hard into the wooden table. "What's it say?" she asked impatiently.
"Only destiny can intervene in time and space, and if destiny accepts you, time will move parallel. The tracks of time will be forged. Destines move side by side. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Stacey looked up from the book, her eyes stained with confusion.
Rachel stood gobsmacked, her mouth literally open, although no breath passed. "It means...I was meant to meet Charlie," she whispered. "It all happened for a reason," she said again, letting breath catch in her throat as she clutched her abdomen and fell to a chair. "I need to go back, Laura."
Laura got to her feet and stood beside Rachel, touching her shoulder consolingly. "Look, whoever the guy was, he's right. You're safe here. Back then it's a wonder many people survived very long. Rach, you're safer here."
Stacey remained silent, her eyes averted from the argument which began to brew.
"I have to go back!" Rachel half screamed. "It said in the book about destiny. I'm meant to be with him. It makes sense. Don't make me live here without him." Knowing that she was getting nowhere, Rachel stormed away down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door as she went.
Laura closed her eyes, pressing her hands into her face. "What do I do? Whoever this Charlie guy is, he's right, she doesn't belong there. It's too dangerous."
"What happened to her?" Stacey asked in bewilderment, placing her book down on the table carefully.
"She was in the Wild West or something in eighteen something, I dunno. She met this guy, a cowboy and now she's head over heels for him. How is all this possible though? Shit! She just turned up in the kitchen this morning dressed in a shirt, pants and boots....typical cowboy stuff."
"This is way too deep," Stacey said quietly.
Rachel flew out the door half an hour later, half running down the street. Sweat dripped down her brow and her breath came in short gasps. She needed answers, and she needed them now. Angrily, Rachel shot into the psychic's store and fled into the back room where the lady carried out her readings. "I need information!" Rachel demanded, holding a few bills in her hand and placing them on the table. "Tell me about this spell and what happens between me and Charlie."
The psychic looked up at Rachel, completely unsurprised by the young woman's sudden appearance. "I see you've been told about your destines?" the lady asked. "Please sit, Rachel."
Rachel did as requested and sat opposite the psychic, her eyes wide and her posture showing much impatience. "Please, just tell me everything you know."
"One thing I picked up when I last saw you but never mentioned was how you got back here. It wasn't by accident you got back. The truth is, Rachel, events have changed and the only way everything would go according to plan was by you coming back here. You still need to wait for the sign...But the person who intervened and got you back here was...my great grandmother. You see, all the women of my family have all been powerful psychics: my mother, my grandmother, great grandmother and so forth. She sensed you Rachel, and because of her the spell became available to you in this time also....she found out about that spell purely by accident after meeting a few like you who had gone through time accidentally."
"I don't know if I can believe all this..." Rachel said, placing her hand to her head. "It's too much."
"I know it's a lot to take in, love. Just know that wherever Charlie is, he loves you dearly and that's something which won't ever change. I can feel that when I sense his impact on you. Your destines are now twined; he moves at the same pace you do. So if you say that spell again, you will return to him, it still being the same number of days gone since you left."
Before Rachel left, the psychic handed Rachel an old sheet of paper. "Here, you'll need it. But, remember, wait for the sign...You'll know when you need to use this." Rachel looked at the paper, reading the words of the spell, those words which had been blessed and cursed her life.
[Arizona, June 1887]
Charlie lay awake most of that night, having followed Wade and the men escorting him as far as he could. His back ached from lying on the dusty ground and his mind would not shut off from what had happened that day. It seemed as if his whole life was shadowed. Rachel had been the light he needed, and that had now faded; now his father figure, the man he looked up to and worshipped was facing the noose. Angry, fatigued and cold, Charlie tossed and turned, unable to fall into any kind of sleep. Everyone he loved was slipping away, out of his grasp. Was this due to all the atrocities he'd committed since joining Wade's outfit? Was this God's punishment for all the men he'd killed, all the fornication and all the money he'd stolen?
He wasn't going to lose Wade. There was no way he was letting another person slip away from him like Rachel had done. The pain and anger made his resolve stronger by the second. And as the new day dawned, he was ready to face anything thrown at him...even if it meant walking to his death.
[New York, September 2009]
On the fourth day of being separated from Charlie, Rachel got up the strength to sit in front of the computer she shared with Laura for work. Next to her was the spell the psychic lady had given her the day previously.
Logging into her space, Rachel sighed and took a long, slow mouthful from the glass of Pepsi which rested next to her arm. Holding her hand to her face and musing for a second, Rachel finally decided to just do it and exhaled loudly, opening up Internet Explorer.
Nothing prepared her for what she encountered next. In the search bar, she typed Charlie Prince, only to be faced with one article that immediately stood out in bold lettering. 'Notorious Outlaw of Nineteen Century.' Sighing again, Rachel clicked the link only to be face to face with his photograph, black and white, distorted by time.
For a few seconds, Rachel studied his photograph, admiring his eyes which always seemed to burn, yet have a slight trace of sadness in them. As usual, he wore his Stetson, his gaze at the camera cold and deliberate. Fighting back the impending tears, she moved on down the article reading the small paragraphs of his biography.
'Charlie Prince was born and raised in Austin, Texas. Apart from this, much of his background is unknown, only that he had a younger brother named Thomas who died as a young child. After running away from home, grieving for the loss of his brother, Prince was found by an outlaw gang, fronted by Ben Wade.
Prince proved an extremely valuable member to Wade's group and remained in the group for ten years, dying at the age of twenty six in Contention on June, 17th 1887 during a famous showdown in the town's high street. He died as a result of Wade turning his gun on him as he got onto the train to Yuma Territorial Prison.
Some believed Prince had a secret lover, although her identity will always remain a mystery .Eyewitness accounts claim that a woman travelled with the gang on several occasions only days before Prince's death. In his left breast pocket was found a hand drawn image of a woman, sitting next to a fire. Unfortunately there are no official records of this woman, but her very presence did indeed make an impact on the known ruthless Prince.
Rachel, at this point, couldn't stop the tears falling down her face. How could it be? Everything fitted so perfectly; she was his secret lover. Suddenly she felt nauseous as she realised something....'time moves parallel'. Her destiny with Charlie was still moving at the same pace and this meant.....she left four days ago on the thirteenth.
She shot to her feet, feeling her hands shaking. Today would be the day Charlie's life came to a violent end. Her legs buckled as she tried to move, sending her toppling into the table, almost knocking her drink off completely. She had to get back.
Charlie's hat was the first item she grabbed as she rushed into her room after regaining the lost feeling from her waist downwards. The clothes she had come back through time in were lying over the back of her chair, which she grabbed fiercely, dragging them on over herself. Her hands still trembled as she imagined the gun shots, bodies hitting the ground, but more importantly, her Charlie. That was her goal...to save him, hold him again.
And that was the thought she kept hold of as she held Charlie's hat in her hand and recited those all important words. Then her form was no more.