Chapter Text
Edwin woke to the dull glare of a faded orange sunset slowly disappearing behind a thick bank of rainclouds. It bathed the room in an eerie glow, its long-reaching fingers casting the walls in a prism of otherworldly light. Tendrils of shadow crept along the peeling wallpaper like ivy, sprouting from the bare seams along each door frame.
The ambient chattering of his compatriots filtered in and out of his consciousness, pulling him fully into the waking world. Neither Crystal nor Charles had ever been adept at speaking in a low volume, and the sound of two teenagers attempting to converse quietly provided Edwin with a familiar focal point. The conversation ebbed and flowed easily, like the comforting tide of the sea, providing a soothing distraction from a full-body ache that threatened to drown him. For once, Edwin was grateful for their lack of subtlety.
“I didn’t know ghosts could sleep,” Crystal said.
“Neither did I. I’d wager it’s not proper sleep, though,” Charles said. “It’s probably got a spooky name, like ‘spectral recharging’ or some tosh like that.”
“Is there a difference?”
Charles made a non-committal sound. “Don’t know. Never seen a ghost have a kip before, have I? It’s a good bet Edwin’s got some theories, though.”
“Yeah. Too bad he’s busy ‘spectrally recharging’ or whatever the fuck.”
Charles’s words trickled down from directly above Edwin’s ear, while Crystal’s voice was further in the distance, perhaps five or six feet away. Under Edwin’s head was something soft yet firm, rippling gently against his cheek. It took him a moment to realize that he had been sleeping soundly using Charles’s thigh as a pillow.
Somehow, he was no longer laid in a tangled heap on the office floor, but was rather resting comfortably on their plush sofa. The image of Charles carrying him across the office and placing him on the couch came to mind, bringing both comfort and shame in equal amounts.
“If ghosts can sleep, do you think they can dream?” Crystal asked.
Charles let out a slow sigh. Edwin felt his pillow grow tense, the muscles under his cheek jumping slightly.
“Let’s hope not. Can’t imagine Edwin’s dreams would be very nice, with all the horrible stuff he’s seen.”
Crystal hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I guess. It’s nice to imagine that he’s dreaming about, like, re-discovering the Library of Alexandria or some other nerdy shit like that.”
Charles let out a soft laugh, his lap relaxing once more.
“If anyone were to dream about something as boring as an ancient bloody library, it would be Edwin, wouldn’t it?”
Careful fingers threaded through Edwin’s hair as the conversation carried on, their soft touch sending a pleasant tingle down his spine. Their movement was dexterous and careful, gently pulling strands loose from his pomade and leaving them slightly curling against his forehead. Blunt fingernails scratched at his scalp, soothing the ache that settled in his skull.
“What’d you tell the client, then?” Charles asked Crystal, absent-mindedly combing Edwin’s softening hair off to the side. He traced each curl with his fingertips, as if he were intent on memorizing their shape based on touch alone.
“Nothing specific, really. I just said that we had an emergency and we’d come find her once we were done dealing with it. She wasn’t, like, thrilled , but I think she understood.”
“We’ll all have a chat once Edwin wakes up, yeah? Decide what comes next,” Charles said. “I don’t think he’ll be back in working order for a couple days, at least.”
“I’m not asleep,” Edwin grumbled, his annunciation loose and vague. The fingers in his hair stilled.
“Hey, there he is,” Charles said, overt fondness bleeding into his voice. “Chuffed to hear it, mate. You gave us a right scare, going radio silent like that.”
This time, the fingers pulled away entirely. Edwin immediately mourned their loss.
“My apologies,” Edwin said, pushing down a wave of guilt. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Oi, none of that,” Charles said, placing a comforting hand on Edwin’s arm. “Worrying about you is practically the point of me. Besides, not like you had a seizure for fun, is it?”
Edwin blinked. Is that what had happened?
“How’re you feeling?” Crystal asked. A secondary message was etched on her features, soft but steadfast.
“Talk to him,” the crease in her browline said, “ or I will.”
Edwin’s heart sank into his stomach, down to his feet, and slipped through the floorboards beneath them. He knew the truth was necessary, but a thick film of shame coated his throat, blocking the words from escaping.
The damning truth was that his pain levels had not changed. His joints and muscles ached with overuse, despite having not moved in hours. His head felt stuffed full of dandelion fluff, thoughts obscured into an unrecognizable cloud of nothingness. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, and on top of it all, he was no closer to fixing the damned problem than the day it had started.
Hopelessness gnawed at the edge of his thoughts, and he knew with absolute certainty that the plain truth was not an answer that anyone wanted to hear.
The silence that followed Crystal’s question must have lasted too long for Charles’s liking, because he eventually cleared his throat.
“Right, then. I think it’s time we had an honest chat,” Charles said, giving Edwin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Think you can sit up, mate? Or do you need a hand?”
“I am perfectly capable of sitting up on my own, thank you,” Edwin replied brusquely. He was not an invalid , for goodness sake.
If Charles or Crystal noticed his wobbly elbows struggling to bear weight, they were kind enough not to mention it.
Once he was confident that Edwin wasn’t going to keel over again, Charles hauled himself off of the sofa and took a seat in the empty chair next to Crystal. Edwin was momentarily grateful that Charles had thought to afford him the dignity of sitting upright; it would have been much more difficult to participate in this conversation as an equal party had he remained laying on Charles’s lap.
Edwin clasped his hands tightly to keep from fidgeting. Under Crystal and Charles’s heavy gaze, he felt every bit like the sixteen year old student he had been when he died. He shifted slightly, suddenly feeling as though he were back in a principal’s office, in trouble for simply existing in a manner that was deemed ‘unsettling.’
“Do you remember what happened?” Crystal asked. Edwin shook his head. There was a curiously dark space where the memory of his collapse should have been.
“Well, it looked like you were having a convulsive seizure. I don’t really know what that means for you, since you’re a ghost, but usually after effects can include memory loss, brain fog, fatigue, muscle pain—”
“Hang on a tick,” Charles interrupted. “How d’you know all that, then?”
“A girl in my Girl Scout troop had epilepsy when I was younger,” she said with a shrug. “We had a unit on first aid, so we all learned how to handle seizures. We were technically supposed to call an ambulance, but…”
“No ghost ambulance available,” Charles finished her thought. “Dead Boy Doctors wasn’t such a bad concept after all, was it?”
“Too bad none of us went to med school,” Crystal said. “Or graduated high school.”
“You are both blowing this entirely out of proportion,” Edwin said bitterly. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine.”
“Oi, leave it out, will you?” Charles shot back. “What Crystal and I just saw was not fine. It was bloody terrifying, actually.”
Edwin flinched. Perhaps the comment was deserved, but his chastising tone still stung. Charles visibly softened, his espresso dark eyes bringing the same comfort that his gentle, carding fingers had.
“Come on, Edwin. Talk to me.”
Charles looked gutted, his expression etched with blatant concern. The sight of it sent a shattering stab of regret straight through Edwin’s chest. Everything he’d done to mask his deteriorating state of his health was pulled away like a stage curtain, revealing the only thing that Edwin had truly accomplished: he had lied.
In an effort to protect his own peace of mind, Edwin had outright lied to his best friend. He hid the truth and went behind Charles’s back, not because he didn’t want to tell him, but because he had been frightened of the potential outcome.
He trusted Charles with his life ten times over, but there was no one he trusted enough to bear witness to his weaknesses. Expecting Charles to remain by his side after learning of his obvious shortcomings was an absurd notion. Charles deserved the best, and Edwin was… well. He was not that.
Now Charles knew the truth of Edwin’s failings, and it was time to face the consequences.
“I… don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Edwin admitted meekly, his shoulders folding inwards like the dying petals of a wilted flower. “Crystal and I tried our hand at a diagnosis, but my symptoms seem to be unprecedented amongst spirits.”
“This has happened before, then?” Charles asked.
“Today was the first time I have experienced anything of this severity.”
Crystal cleared her throat, giving Edwin a pointed look. He shrunk in on himself further, wishing he could phase through the floor and avoid this conversation entirely.
“This was the first seizure I have had,” he clarified, “but I have been in near constant pain since our last encounter with Esther. We believe my ailment may somehow be tied to her energy harvesting machine.”
A long silence stretched between the three of them, pulled taut across the room like a funeral shroud. Edwin couldn’t bear to look at either of them.
“Bloody hell,” Charles said quietly. “You’ve been in pain all this time?”
The truth was excruciating. Edwin couldn’t bring himself to address it, but he didn’t have the heart to lie again, so he said nothing. He didn’t need to see Charles’s reaction, either; he could hear the guilt weaved into his voice, and knew it would be reflected on his face. He kept his eyes glued to the floor.
After a moment more of tension, Edwin heard the scuffle of Crystal’s heavy platform boots, followed by the closing of their office door. He gathered that she was affording them a moment of privacy, and did not lift his gaze to see her off.
The sound of Charles’s loafers padding across the hardwood floor filled the remaining silence, a comforting sound in its own right. On nights when the full moon bathed their office in a pale glow, the telltale sound of Charles’s footsteps were sometimes all that differentiated their home from the greenish hallways of the Dollhouse.
Charles sat on the couch next to him, inches away from his side. Edwin kept his eyes trained on Charles’s knee rather than turning to face him.
“Help me out here, Edwin,” he said. “I get why you kept this from Crystal, you can both be bloody vicious sometimes. But we’re best mates, aren’t we?”
He reached out and brushed a stray curl from Edwin’s forehead, allowing his fingertips to linger. It felt like an invitation.
“We will figure this out, yeah? Together, like we always do. But I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”
Edwin finally looked up.
Some portion of him had expected Charles to be upset. Not necessarily angry, but irritated with him for keeping such a massive secret. Edwin’s mind latched onto the frustration Charles had displayed after his private rendezvous with the Cat King. Charles had approached that situation like a dog after a bone, his persistence in uncovering the truth both endearing and irritating in equal measure. After all, while it was not a spoken rule, the two of them seldom kept secrets from one another.
When Edwin met his eyes, all he found there was an aching tenderness. His features betrayed a look of worry, but his warm eyes regarded Edwin as if he were something unspeakably precious. There was only one word that Edwin could use to describe Charles’s expression: it was love, pure and simple. Charles loved him, and no piece of poetry could ever compare to the look of devotion written across his features in that moment.
Edwin had never been much of a faithful man. The concept of God had never made much sense to him, and even when he had learned that Gods did exist, he never found them worthy of his attention. Not when they had left him to rot in Hell for the crime of being an easy target.
If Edwin believed in anything, it was in the reverent touch of Charles Rowland’s merciful hands. Hands that had never once harmed him, accidentally or otherwise, and he knew never would. When Edwin had laid vulnerable in his lap, Charles had delicately released his long-forgotten curls from their careful styling for the first time since they met. The careful sweep of his fingertips across Edwin’s forehead had been as close to worship as he would likely ever experience.
Edwin pulled his partner’s outstretched hand from his forehead, cradling it in his lap. He slid his fingers in between the gaps of Charles’s own, clutching him like a lifeline. Charles, ever his supporter, clutched back.
Edwin took a leap of faith, and hoped that Charles would be considerate enough to catch him.
“Everything… hurts,” Edwin began, unsure of where to start. No words felt adequate enough to explain the devastation that came from such an unending ache. “Crystal deduced that my form is creating more energy than it needs, and while it is likely due to Esther’s machine, we have a very limited understanding as to why. It has simply been causing me widespread aches and pains, as well as what I believe could be considered regular migraines.”
Charles winced. “Nothing simple about that, mate.”
Now that Edwin had started speaking, he found it difficult to stop. “It’s as if I’m perpetually stuck on that witch’s table. It seems the torture didn’t end with her death, and I fear I may never fully be free of her. Every time a new ache presents itself, I can hear her laughing. I can–” He closed his eyes. “I can hear Niko dying, over and over again.”
Charles rubbed a thumb over his knuckles, providing silent encouragement to continue. Edwin took a breath and waited, attempting to parse out his scattered thoughts.
“My capabilities have significantly diminished since the onset of these symptoms, and I find myself at a loss of how to move forward. I seem to have a fair amount of both physical and mental limitations in this state, which I fear makes me little more than a liability to the Agency.”
“Load of rubbish, that is,” Charles interrupted firmly. Edwin blinked at him.
“Edwin, you’re not a bloody superhero. Everybody has limits. I mean, look at Crystal. She has to eat and sleep and change her clothes, just like every other living girl on the planet. And–” Charles shifted, looking unsure. “Look at me. I was known as a right twit in school, because I was a slow reader and could never remember when my homework was due. You’re proper brills, and even if your big brain’s a little slower right now, I’d wager it’s still twice as fast as mine.”
Edwin grimaced. “You are plenty smart, Charles.”
“Cheers, mate,” Charles said, a pleased grin playing on his lips. “But, not the point. All I’m saying is that there’s nothing wrong with us needing to slow down a bit, especially after the bloody awful year we’ve had.”
“And what if my condition is permanent? What if I am doomed to an eternity of pain and seizures and whatever else that blasted witch has left me with? I don’t expect you to become my… my caretaker , for Christ’s sake. You deserve more than that.”
Charles inhaled sharply, clearly unhappy with Edwin’s statement. He moved his hands slowly, one taking residence on Edwin’s collar bone and the other lifting his chin until their eyes locked.
“Right,” Charles said, his gaze filled with steely determination. “I need you to listen to me, yeah?”
Edwin nodded.
“I’m not going anywhere . If we need to slow down the intake of cases for a bit, then I’ll bother ‘ol Nursie until she lightens our caseload into something easier for us to handle. If you need me and Crystal to help with research or take notes or whatever else it is that you do, then all you gotta do is ask. And—” Charles barreled on, not allowing Edwin to interject— “if you decide that working cases has got you proper stressed and we have to stop, then nothing’d make me happier than faffing about the office until we find something better to do.”
Charles smiled sweetly, the certainty in his eyes giving way to something much softer. He brandished his simple solution like a sword, slicing the Goridian knot in Edwin’s chest cleanly in half. Any remaining anxieties simply fell to the wayside, replaced by a steadily-growing warmth.
“I gave up on my afterlife to stay with you , Edwin. The Agency is great and all, but you’re the reason I stuck around. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I wasn’t trying to–”
“Yeah mate, I know, but I’m telling you anyway. I’m not settling, yeah? I don’t give a toss about what I ‘deserve.’ I’ve got everything I want right in front of me.”
Edwin’s cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“I’m sorry that I hid this from you,” was all he said. “I should have told you sooner.”
Charles shrugged. “It was a bit daft, but I get it. Not an easy thing to talk about, is it?”
Charles closed the gap between them, folding Edwin into his arms. Edwin clung to him like a child to a teddy bear, soaking up all of the affection he so desperately needed after such a harrowing day.
“I know you don't need me to take care of you,” Charles said, pressing a quick kiss to Edwin’s hair. “But I’ll do it anyway.”