A Goddamned Curse
Charles sat on the couch in the hotel, looking over the paperwork the lawyer sent him. The clock ran out on him, he needed to suck it up and deal with the crap. Daniel, the lawyer, would be calling him at any time. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before digging in his pockets to get out his cigarillos and lighter.
"Can't just fucking use layman's terms," he muttered, putting a cigarillo in his mouth and lighting it.
He spent a few more minutes going through the documents, trying to wrap his head around the fine print. Finally figuring he wasn't going to understand it any better than he already did, he went back to the first page and started filling in his initials and signature where required. He glanced up at Ares, finding him still sitting at the breakfast bar, smoking and zoning out. Probably still thinking about running into Maela a couple of days before. And how much of a jackass Charles was for thinking it was a good idea to go to the reception in the first place.
Finishing up the last of the paperwork, Charles uploaded it in a message to the lawyer, fingers hesitating over the 'send' button a moment. He dropped his hand, staring at the screen for several long minutes as he smoked in silence. The entire thing made him feel sick to his stomach and nervous as fuck. He killed his father, he shouldn't be the one dealing with the legal shit. What if he did something wrong, something suspicious, and they started looking into him?
And he heard his father's voice in the back of his head, calling him a pussy for freaking out over some goddamn paperwork.
Taking a deep breath, he hit 'send' and closed his omni-tool. He sat back on the couch, dragging the ashtray along with him and lit another cigarillo off the last one before stubbing it out. His fingers shook, and he hated it. Hated all of it. Jesus fuck, if he could go back to Shanxi and kill his father all over again, he'd really drag it out.
He watched Ares for a moment, staring at his profile before taking a deep breath. Just about to open his mouth to ask Ares if he was alright, his omni-tool pinged. He opened it, squinting at the number as fresh dread seeped into his muscles, making them tight. Groaning, he answered the call, sucking in a deep breath as Daniel's face popped up on the screen.
"Mr. Fairclough, how are you?" Daniel asked but didn't wait for a response before speaking again, "Thank you for returning the documents. According to your wishes, Blathers and Son's will contact Haven's End Cemetery to arrange for a plot. We'll try to get him as close to your mother and sister as we can, but considering the plots weren't purchased in advance to be next to one another, we can't make any promises."
Bile rose up in the back of Charles' throat, burning its way through his mind. He'd told Ares it was no big deal, it was just a body, but it was a big deal. A huge fucking deal. Even just the thought of his father being buried anywhere near Sarah and Mom left him feeling like he'd just taken another blow to the head. Like someone ripped his heart right from his chest and crushed in front of his eyes. Swallowing, he took a drag of his cigarillo, hands still shaking, and nodded for the lawyer to continue.
"The vacant plot closest to your mother is reserved," Daniel said, turning a palm up, "but if you would like, we can attempt to enter into negotiations with the owners."
"No, that's alright," Charles said, his agitation make his words come out a little sharper than he intended.
"Are you sure, Mr. Fairclough?" Daniel folded his hands together on the desk. "Most of the time, these things are easily settled, and it wouldn't cost much more than—"
"I'm sure." Charles took another drag, leaving his hand near his mouth as he exhaled.
Nodding, Daniel seemed to take the hint and changed the subject. "Once your father's house is sold, we'll only have a couple of weeks to clear out the rest of his personal effects." He leaned forward, doing something on his computer. "Now, I see here that you'd like to have his personal effects sold. I should tell you it's unlikely everything of his will sell. We'll do our best, of course, but in such an event, how would you like any remaining items handled? I can have them shipped to your residence on the Citadel, or if you prefer, they can be donated somewhere locally."
Charles took another heavy drag off of his cigarillo, holding the smoke inside of him for a few seconds before letting it out as he said, "Donate them, I don't really have a lot of room."
"Very well." Daniel nodded. "There is one last matter before I let you go. Once all things are settled and our fees deducted, where would you like the rest of your inheritance sent?"
The very idea of any of it being an inheritance made Charles' skin crawl, made him itchy and tense. He wanted to sink his blade into someone, wanted to hear them scream and beg for their lives. It wasn't an inheritance. More like a goddamned curse, a punishment. Just another way for his father to have the last word, beat Charles one more time. He thought about telling Daniel to donate the credits, too, but he had a feeling it'd draw more attention than anything else. Even though Charles and his dad weren't close, it wouldn't be hard for anyone to figure out that Charles really couldn't afford to turn away extra credits.
"I'll send you my account number," Charles finally said, finishing off his cigarillo and stubbing it out.
"Excellent. That's all I need for now. I'll be in touch if anything else comes up." He smiled at Charles. "Have a good day, Mr. Fairclough."
Charles nodded, relieved to have the conversation come to an end. "Thanks. You, too."
He let out a heavy sigh as the call went dark. Closing his omni-tool, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his palms. His father's voice still whispered in the back of his head, telling him how worthless and pathetic he was. He squeezed his eyes closed, pulling up an image of his father drowning in alcohol as Ares' held his nose closed. But it only lasted a second before he saw himself at seven, cowering in the corner as his father slapped and punched him, the taste of blood in his mouth and tears streaming down his cheeks.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he swallowed and opened his eyes. He lit his third cigarillo in less than a half-hour and laid down, avoiding the cut on the back of his head as he propped it on the arm of the couch and pulled the ashtray over to his stomach. Despite his best efforts, the memories kept coming. Sarah's pleading sobs filled his head, begging Dad to stop. Pain, white hot and blinding shot through his back, hurting so bad he couldn't even scream. It left him pissing blood.
He saw himself at thirteen, trying to pull his dad off of Mom, only to have Dad throw him across the living room. It left him with three bruised ribs. But Mom … Mom needed surgery on her jaw and couldn't eat solid food for weeks.
After a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder at Ares. "Hey … want to get out of here for awhile?"
"And go where?" Ares flicked his lighter opened and closed in his free hand.
Sticking his cigarillo between his lips, Charles opened his omni-tool again and pulled up the C-Sec tracking program. He flipped through the pages until he found another name on his list, someone he'd found just a couple of days before; Andrew Polk had just been released from prison on two accounts of rape. Taking a drag, he pulled his cigarillo away from his mouth, smoke stinging his eyes, and sent the information to Ares.
A long time passed before Ares even opened his omni-tool, leaving Charles feeling even antsier. When he did finally open the message, he didn't look at it very long before closing it again. He sat there a moment, silently smoking his cigarette before he asked, "And what do you expect me to say about him? I don't feel like taking his life, so you'd be doing it. When's the last time you hunted?"
Charles frowned, smoking his cigarillo and picking at the butt of it for a few seconds. "Aiden, I guess, when you first got back. Before him, Ethan a couple of weeks earlier."
Ares took a couple of long drags before saying, "It's too soon to kill anyone. Especially the way you kill. People will make connections. Still too fresh."
Charles let out a heavy sigh, turning his attention back to the wall on the other side of the couch. "Yeah," he muttered. He smoked in silence for a couple of minutes, the muscles along his spine becoming more and more tense as memories started to push themselves back to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't stay there, couldn't sit still. He needed to do something. Putting the ashtray on the table, he stood up. "I'm going for a walk, then. I can't sit here, I'm feeling too restless."
Ares merely rumbled in acknowledgment, going back to flicking his lighter's lid. Charles grabbed his jacket before stopping next to Ares, leaning in and pressing his forehead against the side of Ares' head. He barely seemed to notice. Pulling in a deep breath, he filled his lungs with Ares' scent before heading for the door.
He'd left the Presidium, heading back to the more familiar territory of the Zakera Ward, too agitated for the uppity bullshit of the Presidium. He didn't intend to go to a bar, but after a half-hour of wandering around aimlessly, still unable to shake the phantoms haunting his mind, a bar is where he found himself. He'd been there a few times before, not enough to say he really knew the people who worked there, but often enough to know what to expect from the place.
He sat down on a stool and waited for the bartender to make her way over. Raking a hand through his hair, he rested a foot on one of the metal bars at the base of the stool, and instantly his leg picked up a rapid beat, knee jerking up and down restlessly. He forced a smile on his face when the asari came over and ordered a Mount Milgrom.
One drink turned into two, and then three, then four, five, six. He just kept drinking until he lost count. Despite the alcohol flooding his system, Charles couldn't push away the crap in his head. His muscles still felt tight, his hand still itched to pull out his razor and set it to flesh. Ares was right, though, he needed to slow down or he'd wind up spending the rest of his life in prison. Or dead. Maybe he should consider using other methods, Ares did buy him a gun. But his gut told him it just wouldn't be the same, wouldn't be as fulfilling.
He wasn't entirely sure how the fight broke out around him, or how he got dragged into the middle of it. But damn it did feel good to throw a few punches, not even caring who he hit or where they landed. At least it felt good until a krogan grabbed him by the back of the neck and tossed him out on his ass right along with a couple of salarians, a turian, and a quarian.
Huffing, Charles swiped the back of his hand under his nose, wiping away blood. He looked over at the others, letting out a wry bark of laughter when he found the two salarians still bickering and shoving one another. The turian caught his gaze and flared her mandibles before letting out a chuckle, and the quarian climbed to his feet, looking over a tear in his suit.
Not feeling like he had any reason to rush off, Charles sat there a moment, digging out his cigarillos. Half the pack got crushed in the brawl, but he managed to find one unbroken and stuck it between his lips, lighting it before pulling himself to his feet. Swaying a little, he stood there for a second, taking a deep drag before moving over to the turian and holding out his hand. She let out a soft rumble and slid her hand into his, and he helped pull her to her feet before giving her a mock-salute and wandered off.
He spent another twenty or thirty minutes just walking until he found a public restroom and stepped inside. Bracing himself against the sink, he looked over his face and the blood drying under his nose. It really wasn't so bad, a little swollen but not broken. Hell, it went along quite nicely with the fading bruise on his cheek and the still healing cut on his forehead. Fuck, he'd end up losing his job if he kept going into work all beat up.
Turning on the water, he washed the blood off his face and then dabbed at the spots on his shirt. "Fuck." It didn't do any good, but at least there wasn't a lot of it. He opened his omni-tool, swaying on his feet bad enough he needed to lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and looked at the time. "Shit."
He'd been gone for hours, and it was late. Ares hadn't called or messaged, but he probably wondered where the fuck Charles was. He needed to get back. Closing the omni-tool, he looked in the mirror again, using his fingers to try to push his hair back into place before leaving. He made his way to a taxi stand just outside of the restrooms and called a cab.
It didn't take long to arrive, and he climbed inside. No way could he drive manually. He sat there for a minute, staring blankly at the skycar's dash before opening his omni-tool and pulling up the address for the hotel. It took him a few tries, but he managed to input it into the vehicle's auto-navigation system, and the skycar took off.
Seeing double, Charles somehow made it back to the hotel, and thank fucking God the hotel attendants didn't give him any shit. There was no way he'd pass for sober just then, and he'd acquired more than a few scrapes, new bruises already starting to show on his face and hands. He ducked into the elevator and hit the button for the twenty-sixth floor only to realize he hit the wrong one and cussed, hitting the right one instead. He took the elevator up to the room and tried really, really, really hard to not make noise going in, not wanting to wake Ares if he was already asleep. He knew Ares still dealt with his own shit, and he wanted him to have a few hours peace.
Ares wasn't asleep, however. Instead, he sat at the breakfast bar right where Charles left him. "Awful long walk," he said before glancing over and flicking his mandibles. "You're shitfaced."
Charles stopped inside the door, letting it close behind him before leaning against the wall and digging in his pockets for his cigarillos and lighter. He shrugged as he fumbled to get a cigarillo out of the pack, working his way through four of them before he found one that wasn't crushed. "Decided I needed a drink."
"More than a drink." Ares' tone carried a hint of annoyance, and he clenched and released his hands on the breakfast bar's surface.
Hackles raising as he watched Ares' hands, Charles hesitated, lighter held opened in front of him but not lit. "And that's a problem, because …?" He flicked the lighter, sticking the cigarillo into the flame.
"Because you can barely walk, which means I have to take care of you." Ares stood but didn't move away from the breakfast bar. "And you smell like blood, look like shit, and shouldn't have gone alone."
Feeling like he'd just been slapped in the face, anger welled up inside Charles again, but with it also came the sting he felt anytime he thought he let Ares down. He took a deep drag from his cigarillo, stuffing the lighter and pack back in his pocket. He let the smoke seep out of him slowly, still leaning against the wall as he eyed Ares. "I'm not a child. I don't need you to take care of me." He pushed off the wall, moving past Ares toward the couch. "I can go to a bar by myself. I'm a big boy."
"Then you should have been a fucking 'big boy' and get shitfaced when I wasn't around." Ares snarled and breathed deeply through his nose. "Spirits fucking dammit. I can't even have one leave to let my shit go without you fucking making it about yourself."
Charles stared at him for a few seconds, taking a heavy drag off his cigarillo. How, exactly, did he make it about himself? He strained, trying to make sense of what was happening. Trying to wrap his mind around why Ares was so pissed. "Are you fucking serious right now?"
"I'm really fucking serious," Ares hissed, subvocals a constant growl. "Every fucking time you've told me about your problems, I helped you."
Charles leaned down to pick up an ashtray from the coffee table, swaying a little as he righted himself. Scowl on his face, he watched Ares, confused. Stunned, even. It was a truly rare thing for Charles to be left speechless, but just then, he didn't have a clue what to say.
"I showed you how to kill the people who hurt you, I still show you how to kill people. And you can't bottle your shit for a fucking week," Ares said, and Charles winced.
Charles stood there for a moment, shaking his head. "You know …." he said, sounding eerily calm to his own ears despite his rising fury. "You can be a really huge asshole sometimes." He took a drag from his cigarillo. "I've tried like hell to do everything I could for you while dealing with this wedding thing." He waved the hand holding the ashtray. "Which, let's face it, is a bit like pulling teeth to even get to the point where I can get you to talk about it." He took a drag, blowing the smoke back out through his battered nose. He'd do anything for Ares. Anything, and he'd told the goddamn turian as much more than once, all he had to do was fucking tell Charles what he needed. "I came to the hotel to watch with you. I even went down there to see them for you. You wanted to get shitfaced, I made sure you got back okay. You were hungover as fuck, said you wanted more to fucking drink, so I went and got it." He got louder and louder as he went on, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. "You said you wanted to go kick someone's ass, I said let's go. So, really, tell me what the fuck have I not done for you?" His final words came out in a shout as he flung his arms out to the sides.
Ares scoffed, the sound harsh within his subvocals, and flipped a hand dismissively. "Oh, congratulations for actually taking fucking responsibility in a relationship!" He growled and took a step closer to the couch, making Charles take a reflexive step back. "I carry your fucking ass since we met, and all I ask for is time to have my own breakdown and you still make it about yourself!"
Charles threw the ashtray at the wall, so enraged he trembled, feeling like Ares chose damn near all the worst pressure points possible. "Yeah, and I pulled your ass out of a fucking fire, so go fuck yourself!" He stormed past Ares, heading for the door, glaring at him as he went.
As soon as he left the hotel, tears welled up in his eyes, but he still felt so pissed off, crying just made it worse. He shoved his hands against his eyes, scrubbing the tears away, glaring at anyone who dared look at him. He didn't go home, just in case Ares decided to show up there—he didn't think he could deal with Ares yet—but he did return to Zakera Ward. He refused to go back to the fucking hotel. He didn't really have anywhere else to go, though, so he wandered the streets until he felt like he was going to pass out.
He thought about going to Lindsey's. He'd probably wake her up, but he was willing to bet she'd let him crash on her couch. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though. The last thing he needed was to see pity in her eyes or have her ask him a bunch of questions about what happened to his face. He might try looking up Cammus, but again, he really didn't want to have to explain anything to anyone, and Cammus would surely want to know what happened. He could go to another hotel, somewhere cheaper, he could afford it with his last paycheck, but even that involved dealing with more people than he thought he could handle.
The more he walked, the more he sobered up, and the more his heart began to ache. He loved Ares, so goddamn much, and even though he knew deep down the turian loved him, too, just then it felt like Ares didn't give a shit about him. Like he'd been nothing but a burden on Ares. Nothing he did was ever good enough. His entire life, nothing was ever good enough. He felt so confused and lost, and his father just wouldn't shut the fuck up. He kept pick, pick, picking away at Charles in the back of his head.
When the tears started again, so hot and thick he could barely see, he stepped into an alley. He made his way all the way to the back and grabbed ahold of a ladder leading up to the top of a building and started climbing. He stood at the top for a few seconds, just looking down at the Citadel, watching people move about through blurry, tearful eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, he moved further onto the roof and leaned against the roof access wall, sliding down to the floor.
Drawing up his knees, he folded his arms on top of them and hid his face, completely giving up on fighting the tears. After a few minutes, he tucked himself into the corner and laid down, using his arm as a pillow. He stared off into space when he cried himself out, and eventually, his eyes felt too heavy to keep open, so he let them close.
Ares was gone. All of his shit gone. He'd brought Charles' things from the hotel back to the apartment and left before Charles made it home. He didn't even send Charles a message to say goodbye. Charles tried calling the hotel, just in case, but they told him that Ares checked out the night before. Obviously, Ares didn't want to talk to him, so Charles didn't try calling him directly.
Charles didn't have time to dwell on it, though. Not if he wanted to keep his job. He'd barely made it back to the apartment in time to take a quick shower and get dressed. He was lucky as hell the alarm on his omni-tool even woke him up. Waking up on a rooftop, feeling like death warmed over but not remembering how he got there for a few minutes was a real mind-fuck. But when he did, when he remembered the night before … he almost just stayed there, wallowing in his misery. His head ached and his face throbbed, but the nausea really made him feel like shit.
Mahlia and Okal both glanced up when he walked in. Mahlia's eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent 'oh'. Okal blinked and sniffed, turning her attention back to the datapad in her hand. He kept his gaze down and made his way to the back to clock in.
Mahlia followed him, though, standing next to the kiosk. "Goddess, what happened? You look even worse today." She reached out as if she intended to touch one of the bruises on his face but let her hand drop when he cringed.
"I don't really want to talk about it," he muttered, finishing clocking in and stepping away from the console. He glanced at her just long enough to make his way around her, heading back for the door to the front.
"Charles," she said, "maybe … maybe you should work in the back for a couple of days."
He stopped walking and turned around to look at her. He knew his expression looked as vacant as he felt, completely hollowed out. "Irene has me in the front."
She brought her hands up, wringing them in front of her for a second. "I know," she said and shrugged, "but Irene isn't going to be here this week. I can handle the front without you, and if I need help once Okal leaves … Cammus can come up for a little while."
"Okal will just call Irene." He shook his head, not even caring if it hurt.
Mahlia scoffed but smiled. "Let me deal with Okal." She moved closer to him, reaching out and squeezing his elbow. "Just go work in the back, alright?"
His eyes burned, and he swore to God if he started crying again, he'd completely lose his shit. Swallowing, he nodded, forcing a weak smile on his face. "Thanks, Mahlia. I owe you one."
Chuckling softly, she patted his arm and walked around him. "No," she said, glancing back at him with a smirk. "Consider us even. Cute dog, by the way. Eezo's a real sweetheart."
He watched her leave through the door to the main lobby, the puzzle pieces taking a moment to fall into place through the dense fog surrounding his mind. A half-hearted smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he realized she meant she'd spent more time with Lindsey, probably at Lindsey's apartment. Well, maybe the two of them would work out and be happy together. Somebody should be.
Turning, he sucked in a deep breath and headed for the storage room. Cammus looked up when the door opened, gaze roaming over Charles, mandibles flaring. He'd been in the middle of packing an order but stopped to watch Charles as he made his way over to the table, picking up the datapad without a word.
"Are you …" Cammus hummed, and Charles knew it meant he reconsidered what he wanted to say. "Are you working back here today?"
"Yeah," Charles said, voice soft. He pointed at his face without looking up. "It's been a rough few days. Mahlia offered to cover the front so I'm not scaring off customers."
Cammus let out a soft, sympathetic sounding trill. He brought a hand up to Charles' shoulder, squeezing a little, letting his hand trail away down Charles' back before returning to packing the shipping crate. The gesture brought a soft smile to Charles' face, but something about it just made him feel even worse inside.
He stood outside his apartment door, Eezo winding circles around his legs, tangling him in her leash. Still, he just stood there, staring at the door. He didn't want to go inside and see the place empty again. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the door. So long as he stayed outside, there was still a chance Ares would be waiting for him inside.
Reaching the end of her leash, Eezo whined. A door opened down the hall, and Charles heard his neighbor, Liana T'vas, step outside. She spoke to someone for a moment before closing her door again. Charles sucked in a deep breath and unlocked his apartment, stepping inside before the asari made it down the hall and decided she felt obligated to engage him in polite conversation.
The place was empty, he felt it the second the door closed behind him. He left the lights off and took Eezo off her leash. Moving through the dark, he made his way to the kitchen to unload his arms of her bag of food and bowls. Lindsey sent back a big bag of dog treats, too. She really was a nice chick, even if she made him tell her three times he was okay and didn't want to talk about what happened.
Filling the bowls, he sat them down on the kitchen floor before turning to lean against the counter. He let out a heavy sigh and pulled out his cigarillos, lighting one before closing the lighter against his thigh and setting it on the counter along with the pack. He opened his omni-tool; although he knew damn well Ares hadn't messaged him, he still couldn't help but check. He sighed again, one of those rare occasions he hated to be right, and closed his omni-tool before picking his cigarillos back up from the counter.
He made his way out to the balcony and leaned on the railing, smoking in hateful silence as he looked out over the Citadel. Replaying the argument with Ares over and over again in his head. Maybe he was an asshole for going to the bar and getting so drunk, leaving Ares by himself while he was still hurting. But really, was it such a bad thing to make sense for Ares to get as mad as he did? To act so … betrayed and make Charles feel so useless? Did he really feel like Charles didn't do anything to try to help him? What'd Charles miss?
"I carry your fucking ass since we met, and all I ask for is time to have my own breakdown and you still make it about yourself!"
Charles closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and ring finger of the same hand holding his cigarillo. He didn't mean to be selfish. He wasn't trying to hurt Ares. Fuck, was he really so worthless? Yeah, he was. He knew it, always did. His father was right. He couldn't do a single goddamn thing without fucking it all up.
Switching his cigarillo to his other hand, he slipped his hand in his pocket, fingers wrapping around his razor. He pulled it out, holding it in front of him, turning it over and over. He swallowed, pushing away from the railing to lean against the wall instead. Using his thumb, he slowly pushed the razor open, watching the light catch on the blade and swallowed again as he imagined himself cutting into his own skin.
He sucked in a deep breath and finished off his cigarillo, moving over to the ashtray to stub it out. Going back inside, he closed the razor against his leg and dropped it back into his pocket before shutting and locking the door behind him. He made his way to his bedroom and turned on the light, grabbing the bag carrying his stuff from the hotel off his bed and dropping it on the floor next to the closet to deal with later.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he picked up the gun case and opened it, running his fingers over the cool metal. He felt empty inside. Numb. He'd tried telling himself it was just a stupid fight and they'd be fine, but looking around the bedroom and seeing no trace of Ares …. He didn't feel so sure. It was a stupid thing to think, it wasn't like Ares ever really left much of anything behind, but somehow the place felt way emptier than before.
Closing the gun case again, he slid it under his bed and stood up, stripping off his clothes and pulling back the covers. Eezo came in as he turned off the light, following him over to the bed. He laid down, pulling the blankets back up around himself. He expected Eezo to jump up there with him, but she sat down on the floor instead, looking up at him. He patted the bed and she wagged her tail, scrambling up next to him. Wrapping his arm around the dog, he pulled her in closer, tucking her under the blankets against his chest and buried his face in her fur, taking a shuddering breath.