/*Writes another chapter because?* Warnings for a car accident. Thanks for reading, leave a review if you liked it.
Coming home to an empty house after his forced retirement was not how Munro had expected this part of his life to play out. He'd expected his retirement to be in twenty years time, and to hand the roll down to Charlie's capable hands. But it's funny how life turns out. Charlie's wasn't here, and he thinks that Charlie will probably never be here again.
The house is dusty, him having not been here for about six months. He drags two fingers over the dusty mantle piece and smiles at the pictures he'd put up their, over the years. Most are of Charlie. Some have him in them. Most are just of Charlie, since he was the one who took most of them. Only his favorites made it up onto the mantle. Some had been changed out over the years, replaced with more recent photos. The most recent sat towards the left side, a photo of Charlie sitting cross legged on the floor reading a magazine. He'd taken that photo because he thought about just how much Charlie looked like his father in that one moment. He's pretty sure he never really got around to throwing that magazine away, anyhow.
The photo that has been on the mantle the longest is one of Charlie and himself, about six months after he was appointed Charlie's guardian. A professional photo, it depicts Charlie sitting in his lap, his tiny hands resting on top of William's much larger ones. Even in the black and white photo Charlie's eyes were pricing and full of emotion. He'd always liked this photo. He'd always liked the way they looked together.
…
"Daddy!" When he went to collect Charlie from after school care, he was always greeted in the same way. A screech from tiny lungs and small feet almost tripping over themselves in their rush to show him what he'd created today.
He always greeted the tiny wave of feet and squeals by picking him up and spinning him around. His bad shoulder always ached and tried to tell him he was overdoing it, but he didn't really care as much as he should. Today was a day like no other.
"Charlie!" He said, trying to mirror his excitement. It was hard, being a police man meant he'd seen his fair share of things that tried to dampen the mood, but there seemed to be nothing that Charlie couldn't solve. Charlie hooked his tiny arms around Munro's neck so William couldn't drop him, and giggled excitedly at him. As per usual, Charlie was the last child to be collected, most other parents already off work and collecting their own tiny bundles of hands and feet. William was not so lucky. The teacher, a small woman who seemed to emit warmth smiled at them. William sat Charlie back on the ground. "Go get your bag and you can tell me about your day." He said, watching Charlie run off. He has no idea where the boy gets so much energy from.
"He's very special, your boy." She told him, as William pulled his eyes off of Charlie and turned them onto her.
"People keep telling me."
"Very smart. He knows a lot more then people give him credit for."
"Most children do." Munro replied, with a light smile.
"I agree, but Charlie, I think there's something else."
"You do?" She nods, as Charlie rushes back up to them, carrying his plain brown bag in both hands. William took the bag from him, and put it over his shoulder, before picking Charlie up again, and carrying him out to the car while he excitedly told William about his day, in more detail then he would have expected of a four year old.
…
He leaves the dusty mantle behind him, and makes his way into Charlie's bedroom. It didn't look like much had changed at all since Charlie was a little boy. There was a desk in the corner with two birthday cards on it, a framed portrait of his parents wedding day, a photo of himself and Munro taken on his first day on the job, a drawing of him, done in pencil that Charlie had done in school when he was about fifteen. A roll of film that needed to be developed sat in a box by the corner of the desk, there was a stuffed bear with a police hat on the bed, the one he was always telling Charlie to get rid of, and the one that Charlie always insisted looked nice there. On his sideboard was an empty glass, a half finished copy of 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.' and four postcards with nothing written on them.
After a moment, he rather suddenly felt angry at Charlie. He hadn't been angry, up until now, just saddned, and he also finds himself very suddenly shoving all of Charlie's knick knacks off his side table, not even caring if the broken glass scratched the wooden floor. He overturns the desk, shouting incoherently in anger as the dusty things fell, and the photo frames broke. He rips the sheets off the bed, as if they had offended him, and yanks the drawers out of the dresser, throwing them up against the wall until they dented the plaster. Charlie's neatly folded clothes landed around him in piles, and feathers escape from the torn pillow, giving him the impression of standing in the snow.
…
Charlie starred out into the night sky, as if he was trying to find some sort of answer in the stars for a question that he'd never asked. The sky offers him no reply. He's not sure what he expected anyway. "What are you looking for?" A voice behind him asks. After a moment, Charlie turns halfway to face the speaker.
"I'm not sure, Mattie" He admits, after a moment. "A sign from God? Aliens?" Mattie scoffs, and joins him on the balcony, before offering him a sip of whatever was in her glass. Charlie accepts, and then promptly hands the glass back, looking disgusted. "That's awful." He said, "I'd rather get drunk on wine, thanks." Mattie smiles and takes a sip herself.
"What are you asking the sky about?"
"I'm still not sure I did the right thing, you know."
"Munro?"
"Hm."Charlie replied, looking back up at the stars. "Beatrice told me, that you could see every star in the sky from Ballarat."
"Was she right?"
"I know she's not but it sometimes feels like she was."
"You think?"
"When my I was little, I used to ask my father where stars came from."
"What did he tell you?"
"They were souls, of people, looking down on us."
"I never took your father for the superstitious type."
"He's not. I just think he couldn't explain the giant balls of gas in the sky to a five year old who was too smart for his own good." Mattie patted him on the arm gently. "I wanted to be a free, as the stars."
"But?"
"They aren't free. Gravity keeps them in place. Just like it holds us to the ground." Mattie can't think of anything to say to him so they just stand and look out at the stars for a while longer. "I miss my dad." He said, softly. Mattie put a free arm over his shoulder, and felt Charlie sag under it's weight.
"So do I." Mattie said, after a moment.
"Are all sons destined to end up like their fathers?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I don't want to be like him."
"How is that?"
"Cold, distant, cutting myself off from everyone who ever tried to get close..." He whispered, "Forcing all of that on my unsuspecting son." He gazed up into the sky, "I was supposed to become a mason this year."
"Were you?" Charlie nods.
"He wanted me to be 'ready'."
"Which means?"
"I honestly don't know. Until a few months ago, I would have taken it."
"Why not now?"
"I don't know if that's what I want."
"What do you want?" Charlie bit his lip, and looked back out at the stars.
"Grow up, become a boring adult, get old and die."
"You're a funny old soul, Charlie." She murmured. "But that's not what you want."
"I don't know what I want." He murmured, before looking back up to the sky. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
"Will you come back?"
"I don't know."
"What are you going to find?"
"I don't know." Mattie scoffed lightly and then tossed her glass off the veranda in order to give him a hug. Charlie hugged her back, after a moment.
"I take it you'll be gone before I wake up?" He nods. She snniffed into his shoulder. "Feels like everyone's leaving me at once."
"I'm sorry."
"I know...I also know this is something you have to do...Just...Look after yourself. And promise me you'll write?"
"Of course." He said, after a moment. "Just make sure that the doctor knows that it's not his fault. Give him that, from me. I know how he blames himself for things."
"I know." She murmured, and slowly let him go. "Good night, Charlie." Charlie nods.
"Good night, Mattie."
…
He first goes to see the snow. It's white and cold and sticks to his eyelashes. He bottles some of the cold air into a tiny bottle, and then mails it to Mattie.
…
He goes all around after that, before eventually booking himself a flight to New Zealand, to go somewhere where it snowed all the time. On the plane, having been over a year since he last saw his father, he pens a letter.
'Dad.
I hope you can read this. At the moment, I'm sitting in a plane on my way to New Zealand. I always told you that I'd love to travel, and now I am. If you're wondering, I'm not working at the moment. I resigned from the Police last year, to travel, and see Australia. I saved money from odd jobs, as well as what I already had. I don't know if I'll ever come back to Australia, and if I do, I might not go back to Melbourne. Or Ballarat. I want to be free.
I can't leave things the way they are, so one of us will have to be the grown up and write. I know you must be horribly disappointed in me, but that's alright. I know that I did the right thing by the Doctor, and I suppose that I did the right thing by Lawson. Even so, I miss you horribly. I hope if I ever come back, we can have a sit down and talk. I'd really like that. I'd even bake those biscuits that you like.
I love you.
Charlie. '
As the flight drags on, he also decides to pen a letter to the Doctor, whom he hasn't seen in just as long.
'Lucien Blake.
Sorry I didn't see you before I left, but you were the one who pissed off to A. with Mrs Beazley. I hope Mattie gave you my message. I'm sorry it's been so long since I last wrote, I've just been busy. I'm going to New Zealand now. I don't know if I'll like there or not, but given that I spent all my money to get here, let's hope I do. I don't mind sleeping it rough a few nights.
It's good to get out and see the world. It feels like I might be free.
It's a wonderful feeling.
Love.
Charlie.'
It's short and to the point, but he hopes the doctor appreciates them. He mails them as soon as he gets off the plane.
…
When he gets the letter the first thing William does is call the Doctor.
"Doctor Blake's surgery."
"Is the doctor in."
"May I ask who's calling?"
"No."
There's a pause and a scuffle, and then the light voice is replaced by a much deeper one.
"Doctor Blake speaking."
"Where the hell is my baby?" In his panic, Munro calls Charlie his baby rather then his son. He doesn't even notice.
"Ah William. I assume you're calling after Charlie. I'm afraid I have no idea where he is."
"Don't play games with me, Blake, where is my son?"
"His letter said New Zealand."
"I know." He said, and there is a pause. And then he hangs up without saying goodbye. He looks into Charlie's dusty room, everything is still as ruined as it had been a year ago. He slowly begins to clean the room up.
…
He spends two years in New Zealand.
…
He comes home in the third year. He comes to Queensland. Goes to Brisbane, meets up with an old flame. On his way to the hotel, his taxi is hit by another car, and they roll over, and over and over and then it's all still.
And Charlie can't move anything, and oddly enough, his last thought is 'thank god I don't have anyone listed as my next of kin'
…
He wakes up in the hospital and he can't move at all. It's miserable.
…
It's a month before the nurses will let him see his face. The left side is covered with a huge scrape, the right, dozens of glass shards had made a mess of it. His nose didn't work anymore. He looked like a mess.
He didn't look like his father and a tiny bit of him is so grateful.
…
It takes him a further two years to be able to walk reasonably competently. His face had scarred beyond anyway that he used to look. Only his eyes really looked the same to him, even if the nurses told him he was still handsome, he knew it was a lie they probably said to everyone with facial dis figuration. They ask him constantly if he has family but he says no it's just him.
It's oddly freeing.
…
He is eventually able to walk with just crutches. He debates going traveling again, but after five years of being away he decides that he want to go home.
…
He takes the first bus to Ballarat.
…
It's very late when the Taxi pulls up in front of the Blake house. He pays with the very last of his money, and then slides out, the driver brings his suitcase for him. He stands, and admires the way that the building looks. He stands there for a long time, he must lose track of time because now the door is open and there is a figure on the door step, dressed in a dark blue dressing gown. They gaze at him, and he gazes at them. It can't be anyone other then the Doctor, its not possible.
The figure runs, and gathers him up in strong arms. "Charlie!" He said, holding him close, his feet must leave the ground or something because the Doctor's hold on him is so strong. Eventually he pulls back, and rubs both of his thumbs over what's left of his face, over his repaired nose, and pulls him close again "Oh Charlie." He breathes, pressing his nose into his hair the way his father did. It takes him quite a while, but Charlie does hug him back.
"Doc.' He smiled. Blake pulled back and looked at him again.
"Where's your coat? It's freezing out here." Blake said, letting Charlie go. Charlie adjusted his grip on the crutches, and offered him a small smile.
"I misplaced it." Blake sighed softly.
"Come inside, I'll make you some tea and you ca tell me where you've been." He laughs softly. "Everyone will be excited to see you." Blake assures him.
…
Later, sitting on the couch, with his head on Blake's shoulder, looking into the burning fire, a cup of tea in cold fingers, he realizes that this is what home must feel like.
He can't think of one reason why he'd ever want to leave again. He'd found what he was looking for. He'd found his family. He realizes that if Munro wants to be a part of it or not, they're still his family, and he'll be okay, whatever he chooses.