a letter

Jul. 12th, 2007 09:50 am
bloodyrockgod: (ring)
Darien,

This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write--and trust me, I've written some hard ones in my life. This couldn't come at a worse time, now with you so happy and everything going so well--and here I am, facing destiny.

The entire time I've been at the bar I've had one question: do we, humanity as a whole, have free will or are we slaves to fate? I've heard convincing arguments for both sides, but I think I finally have the answer for myself.

It's fate. It's always fate. We fight it as much as we can but in the end fate wins.

I have to stop fighting. I have to go back and play out what destiny I have. And the funny part is, I'm not afraid.

I'm leaving everything behind except what I brought with me. The emergency potato should go to Mike or Bernard. Give my music notebooks to Liam: he'll know what to do with them. The Gibson guitar should go to Gren. I'd like you to divide the CDs and books among my friends. Everything else is yours to do with as you like.

I tried to love you the best I could, and sometimes I think I did. Sometimes we shone so bright, Darien.

I love you. I love you always.

Charlie
bloodyrockgod: (weight of the world by mediocrechick)
"I have something for you," says Jack. He bends to give Georgia a quick kiss in her play gym. She squeals and makes PapaPapaPapa grabby hands, so Jack scoops her up.

"Oh?" says Charlie absently--he's concentrating on getting cheese layered evenly in a burrito casserole.

"Yes. Should I be worried that you're doing your cooking experiments on us?"

"Oi, I'm just trying to keep up with Darien. He's a good cook--I'm just a good follower of recipes." He dusts off his hands and grins at Georgia, who is pointing at him and babbling to Jack. "So what you got? It's not payday."

"Nope, but it is your birthday." He gets a small wrapped package from his satchel and gives it to Charlie. "Happy birthday."

"Oh, Jack--" Charlie says, embarrassed. "You didn't have to."

"I know. That's why I like to. Go ahead, open it."

Charlie tears the cheerful blue paper off the package and smiles uncertainly at the gift inside. "What is this?"

"It's the new Beatles album. Well, it's a remixed-remastered thing but it's really incredible. You'll love it."

"Thank you," Charlie says and hugs him, and kisses Georgia's hair. "And thank you too, baby girl." She pats his cheeks and makes the noise that they have decided means CharlieCharlieCharlie.

"It's from all of us--me and Gil and Georgie and Little No-Name."

"I won't kiss Gil--I don't think he'd appreciate it. Can hardly wait to meet Little No-Name. That'll be interesting--two babies." He shakes his head as he puts the CD into his backpack.

"Are you all right?" Jack says gently.

"Yeah, of course. Just, two babies--two divine babies, yet. I feel like I finally need to learn to juggle so I can handle the household."

"You can do it," Jack says. "You're great at it. Though really, once Gil makes his retirement final I'm giving the business to Thomas and we're heading home to England."

"Oh," Charlie says quietly. "Yeah. I'd forgot about that."

Jack looks at him a moment, and says casually, "Well, you can still nanny for us if you really want to, but given the spare time you'll have you might prefer spending it making music again."

"Ah," says Charlie.

"Yes," says Jack. "Isn't that the first thing you tell everyone? 'I'm Charlie Pace, I'm a musician'? Though you haven't been making much music lately."

Charlie shrugs into his jacket. "Maybe I ran out of things to say."

"I doubt that very much. What is it really, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugs again. "It's nothing. It's--I'm happy. I'm contented. There is nothing I would change about my life."

"Nothing?"

"Maybe one thing, but there's nothing I can do about that. He grew up without me and--"

"Charlie," Jack says gently and Charlie closes his mouth and sighs. "I know you're still afraid, but it's not about Seth anymore. I mean, whenever you go back to the island there's Aaron--who does need you. But you're not his father, either."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. Did you want it to?"

"Some fatherly wisdom would not be out of place right now."

Jack nods to the couch. "Come on. Let's sit." Charlie sits cross-legged in one corner and leans his head on his hand, and when Jack sits Georgia crawls to Charlie and pats his leg. Charlie gathers her up and kisses her hair.

He says slowly, "Darien once said I'd just have to trust him. And I do. I do. I know he's never going to run away or abandon me for somebody else. I trust him absolutely. But I think about us being parents and everything inside me just freezes."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, why do you think that is? Talk to me like a bloody therapist . . ."

Jack smiles. "I'm just listening, Charlie."

"Well, the listening isn't helping. Tell me something. Tell me anything. Make it better, Jack--isn't that what gods do?"

Jack reaches over and plays with Georgia's hair. "No. We don't make it better. We just make it bearable."

Charlie huffs and says in a desperate voice, "Then make it bearable, Jack."

Jack moves closer and pulls Charlie's head to his shoulder. He strokes his hair and says gently, "If you trust Darien, then trust him. Not the insecurities and the doubts--they don't tell you the truth. And the truth is, the two of you are a family. Whether you have children or not, no matter how the island interferes with your life, no matter what happens with him and the Agency--the two of you are a family. You know that in your heart, don't you."

Charlie nods.

"Okay, then."

Charlie sniffles. "Okay, then, what?"

"Okay, then, what are you going to do next?"

Charlie sniffles again. "I'm going to go home and celebrate my birthday with my husband." At Jack's look he amends it to, "With my family." He gets up from the couch and picks up his backpack.

"Trust yourself a little, too, Charlie," says Jack, standing to see him out. "You're more ready than you know."

Charlie nods and gives Georgia a quick kiss, smiling when she pats his face. "We'll see," he says simply and leaves the house for the Bar.
bloodyrockgod: (hands heart soul)
Charlie was not raised with the tradition of Thanksgiving, but he's lived in American enough years to be accustomed to it. And any holiday with pie--he's there.

He's contemplative tonight, thinking about the last year. Days of depression so deep he could barely function--and then just when he felt most alone, most despairing, there was Darien, his friend, his playmate, and quite out of nowhere his love.

He's thankful for Darien.

When it seemed like he could never love another child--none would ever truly be his, they all would leave someday, or be taken away--Jack said, "I need you to look after my daughter." And so now he has Georgia, who wakes up smiling every morning and dances when he sings to her and holds his face and leans her forehead against his whenever he's feeling gloomy.

He's thankful for Georgia.

A few days ago Liam and Karen brought in their new daughter. She has the big blue Pace eyes and a quiet temperament. Her name is Charlotte, and while no one has said so in so many words, he knows her name is for him--remembering him in a world that believes he is dead.

He's thankful for Charlotte. For Liam and Karen and Megan.

It's been, he realizes, a very good year.

And he's thankful.

He's so thankful.
bloodyrockgod: (self-absorbed drug addict by mediocrechi)
Home.

Charlie's on the couch with his guitar, and there's tea on the coffee table.

There's also a Darien around here somewhere . . . hm . . . where could he be?
bloodyrockgod: (ring)
Outside, under the trees, there are chairs set up to face a small bower. The decorations are simple: white ribbons, white flowers, here and there a bow.

David takes his place beneath the bower. He carries no book, nothing to mark him as official other than a quiet authority and look of anticipation. The family members and guests take their seats, all but the two brothers: Kevin and Bobby on one side of David and Liam on the other.

There is no bridal march. Darien and Charlie walk down the aisle together, holding hands, and stand in front of David, both in new dark suits and aglow with joy.

David grins at them, with just a hint of fang. "Friends," he says once all the guests are seated again, "we have come together to solemnize and celebrate the union of Darien Fawkes and Charlie Pace. Darien and Charlie have been friends for a very long time: through madness, death, time rearranging itself and many, many sandwiches." He pauses at the chuckles, and Darien's grin grows even wider. "One thing has always been true about them, no matter what their relationship: they've always taken excellent care of each other.

"It's only fitting, then, that they've chosen to make this arrangement permanent: that they are saying to all of us, 'I will take care of you.' For that's what love is. Putting someone else before yourself.

"Darien, Charlie, do you have anything you wish to say to each other?"

Darien nods, bites his lip a moment, and grins at Charlie again. "A smart guy by the name of Addison once said 'A happy marriage has in it all the pleasures of friendships, all the enjoyment of sense and reason--and indeed all the sweets of life.' As far as I'm concerned, that's what I have to look forward to.

"Charlie. I. I love you so much. I've said this to you before but I want everybody to hear it: there are times when I'm not kissing you only because I'm too busy smiling. You're my sunshine. You keep me warm. Make my life bright. You give me laughter and music and all these things I never realized I didn't want to live without. I love you." He sniffles a little and then laughs. "Even though no one will ever think of me as macho again."

"No one did anyway," Bobby murmurs and Darien shoots him a mock-glare.

Charlie squeezes Darien's hands. "Darien. Dar. Baby. Here we are. I, um, I never thought I'd love anybody enough to make this promise--but you came along and kind of remade me. You made me into a new man. A better man. I don't believe in fate or soul mates or anything like that--but I do believe that you were sent to me because I needed you in my life." His voice is starting to shake, and Megan slips out of Karen's arms and goes to him to tug on his pant leg. He smiles down at her and touches her hair, and Liam picks her up and whispers that Charlie's not crying because he's sad.

Charlie takes a deep breath and looks back to Darien, who is waiting patiently, smiling. "Thank you," Charlie says. "Thank you for being everything I want and everything that I need and everything--just, everything you are."

Darien wipes the tears from Charlie's cheek and kisses him, and David says, "Be patient, we're getting there.

"Now, I think most of us know that what makes a marriage isn't this ceremony. It's what comes before and what comes after, the promises you make and the promises you keep. There are promises made between the two of you that only you will know. Given the lives you both lead outside Milliways--and even in it, sometimes--you'll need that faith in each other. Don't forget it. Hold onto it. Believe it.

"Love is real, my friends. And days like this you can reach out and touch it."

He takes a breath. "Darien Fawkes, do you promise to love Charles Pace until the day you die?"

"I will," Darien says quietly, his face serious but smiling.

"Good," David whispers to him. "Charles Pace, do you promise to love Darien Fawkes until the day you die?"

"I will," Charlie says, grinning like it's Christmas.

"By the power of these vows, of this day and this place, you are married. Kiss now."

They laugh. They kiss.
bloodyrockgod: (weight of the world by mediocrechick)
He lays Darien carefully on the bed and goes back to the bar for ice, returning in moments. He gets a towel from the bathroom and fills it with ice, and sits on the edge of the bed, stroking Darien's hair a moment.

"Ready?"
bloodyrockgod: (happy by anniesj)
There are swans in Hyde Park, both black and white. There are trees to sit under and white chairs by the river, and most days, even at its busiest, it's peaceful and green.

Charlie and Darien sit on the grass under a large oak, far away enough from the river that their picnic is not a temptation to the swans. It's warm out--for Britain--and Charlie is soaking up the sun.

It's good to be home.



[ooc: mun's memories of London are fuzzy, woe. obviously she needs to go back.]
bloodyrockgod: (angst by mediocrechick)
[ooc: Post getting rid of Simon and recovery.]

The funny part is, he knows he should know he's dreaming.

He's walking down the aisle at the church in Manchester, a schoolboy again, an alter boy, and the priest is saying St. Sebastian brought food and comfort to imprisioned Christians during Diocletian's reign . . . and there's a portrait of St. Sebastian, pierced with a hundred arrows, on the wall. Charlie looks away.

Look! the priest orders and his voice sounds like Charlie's father's. You have to look!

Don't want to, Charlie protests but looks anyway, and the portrait is terrifying--the artist took great glee in portraying the saint's pain, and the arrows keep on flying and flying and Charlie exclaims I know that face! and he tries to climb up the wall and the priest--or his father dressed as a priest--says That's what you get, that's what you get, that's what you get over and over--

And then there's no more church and no more priest, but there's still St. Sebastian tied to a tree.

Only it's a tree in the forest of Milliways and it's not the saint, it's Darien, and his blood is silvery as it runs down his skin. And Charlie babbles I'll help you, I'll untie you and Darien whispers save me and the arrows never stop coming, never stop piercing him, and there's so much blood.

And his father says you can't save him, Charlie and Charlie's weeping and his hands are fumbling at the knots and Darien's dying and the arrows never stop.

Give up, Charlie, you've never saved anyone says his father and Charlie shakes him and shakes him and shakes him--only it's not his father anymore, it's Charlie, Charlie with silver eyes--

--and then he's awake.

In Darien's apartment, in his sweatpants, his hands wrapped around the edges of Darien's mirror. His body is dripping with sweat and it takes him a moment to realize that it's only his reflection.

He lets go of the mirror and sinks down to the floor a moment, and wipes his face with shaking hands.

When he's got his breath back he makes his way to Darien's bed and crawls beneath the sheets, wrapping himself around Darien's warm body.

Only after he's checked Darien for wounds can he relax enough to sleep.
bloodyrockgod: (heart hurts by cincodemaygirl)
[ooc: millitimed to last week]

There's an armchair by the window of the small room that Charlie particularly likes. It's overstuffed and comfortable and just big enough for two, if one is on the smallish side.

He's curled up there now, a photograph of a blonde forty-something man on his knee.

Someone is not a happy boy.
bloodyrockgod: (body is a wonderland)
Clothing appears in silvery piles on the bedroom floor and there's the soft sound of laughter. Pasta can wait.

"Bed's that way," says Charlie from nowhere.


[ooc: blah blah blah boysmutcakes.]
bloodyrockgod: (passion by frightened_eyes)
Charlie is composing--not down in the bar, for once, just sitting on the floor in his room with guitar and open notebook.

He's still sneezing periodically.
bloodyrockgod: (i love las vegas by miggy)
Las Vegas.

At certain times of day the Strip appears nearly deserted; at others, cars move a crawl and the sidewalks are packed with people looking for an endless variety of a good time.

It's never cold in Las Vegas--it's just varying degrees of hot. The grand hotels cast shadows and there are fountains up and down the Strip, though few are intended to cool off the tourists as much as amuse them. There are few places to just sit and watch the city go past: the intention is to bring you inside, to gamble and shop and take in a show or two.

It's a strange city, of long nights and slow days, and there's a nervy sort of energy brought by vast amounts of money changing hands, of celebrities getting away for a wild night, of lives changing with a roll of the dice.

It's a perfect city, though, for a pair of dreamers to celebrate each other. Whether they take the High Octane option of Charlie's plans or the Lazy Day option, it's good just to be here, together.
bloodyrockgod: (guitar by blimey_icons)
Charlie has both his guitars out on the bed, as well as his excercise book for beginning guitar. He's tuning the Gibson, eyes closed.

"Dar?" he calls. "Ready when you are."
bloodyrockgod: (body is a wonderland)
[ooc: millitimed to morning. boysmut. YAYPR0N!]

Mornings are becoming Charlie's favorite time of day.

He wakes up slowly, warm to his bones, his nose pressed to Darien's back. He moves his lips slowly across Darien's shoulders and kisses his arm. "Y'awake?"

[livejournal.com profile] otherways

Jan. 15th, 2006 05:01 pm
bloodyrockgod: (precious)
The hammock is still swaying back and forth, and Charlie clings to Gretchen, gasping for breath.

His patience has been rewarded. Give him a few mintues for his brain to start working again.
bloodyrockgod: (ocean Charlie)
Darien,

If you come back before I do, wait for me. I'll be home soon.

I love you,
Charlie

SQUEE!!!

Jan. 11th, 2006 04:20 pm
bloodyrockgod: (Default)
I've won my first e-bay auction! I'm getting The Invisible Man on DVD! SQUEEEEEEE!!!
bloodyrockgod: (bw sex by apoetneedspain)
It's never goodbye sex.

It's "don't forget me" sex. "Believe I need you" sex. "You matter to me" sex.

"Make me glad I'm alive" sex.


[ooc: yup. smut.]
bloodyrockgod: (precious)
Clothing abuse is a terrible thing. Buttons flying, collars tearing, shirts and jeans crumpled in piles on the floor--it's a disgrace.

But sometimes a bloke just wants to get his lover naked, you know?


[ooc: boysmut. yuppers.]

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Charlie Pace

July 2007

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