Chapter Text
It’d been a slow week.
With no new life or after-life threatening cases, things had been peaceful at the agency for the most part since Port Townsend. However, that didn’t stop Edwin from working on an alleged backlog of case notes or Charles tinkering around with his backpack and pulling various small toys from it that he was casually tossing at Edwin and Crystal every so often.
Crystal, splayed across the sofa, continued sipping her iced coffee, even as the pile of toys grew around her. Boys.
She was just about to return fire with the throw pillow when it happened.
There was a thud just outside the office door, like someone or something had body slammed into the surrounding wall.
They all turned to face each other at the same time, the front door to the office whipping open as a small group stomped in.
“When I said there was a margin for error, Charles, that indicates there is a possibility for something to go poorly!”
“We got back, didn’t we?”
A girl brushes past both the boys of the group, gesticulating wildly with her arms. “Does this look like our office to you?”
And suddenly, Crystal’s in front of both of her boys, eyes narrowed at the strangers who waltzed in like they’d owned the place. “Who are you?”
Charles, ever vigilant for the potential danger here gives them a once over and really looks.
The shortest one had remained relatively quiet aside from his initial outburst, posture ramrod straight while he scrutinizes their group in return. He's got his hands clasped behind his back, expression calculating. But then he'd glanced up and caught Charles staring----and stared right back.
Charles knows that disapproving stare. He could visualize that stare from memory if he had to. He's seen that stare directed at other ghosts, a dog barking too loudly at the park, Crystal, and he himself a great many times. That's…that's Edwin, somehow.
Except---
"Mate, you're blond."
Said blonde's stare turns even more severe if possible. Even still, Charles can't help but count the distinct differences and glaringly obvious similarities.
But just like that, his view is suddenly blocked. The other boy, the brunette, pointedly steps in front of the blond, twirling a baseball bat in his hand. “You got a staring problem, mate?”
And isn't that an overreaction. He'd barely said a word to the guy and this doofus swoops in ready to start swinging. So what if he's already got his cricket bat in hand, ready to retaliate? If this guy wants to start fighting, he's happy to oblige.
There's a hand on his shoulder, and he glances behind him. Of course. Edwin, his Edwin. Charles had stepped in front of him at the first sign of trouble. As he always did. As he always would.
“Charles,” he says softly, fingers curling gently over his shoulder before dropping off completely. He moved to stand beside him, hands clasping in front of himself as he addressed the one brandishing the bat.
“I would hazard a guess that you are Charles Rowland.”
The brunette’s expression shifts, like there's some nasty retort on the tip of his tongue. But then he looks again, really looks at Edwin this time. And suddenly the hostility's gone, eyes softening.
“Edwin?”
The blond behind him looks shaken, even both the girls have stopped arguing long enough to really notice one another.
Crystal straightens, tilts her head. “Your name's---”
“Crystal.” The other girl finishes, staring back at all of them in disbelief.
At that moment both Edwins glance towards the girls, expressions sour.
“Two of them. How delightful.” The blond grits out.
Edwin nods in response. “Indeed.”
Both Crystals whirl on them suddenly, the other Crystal zeroing in on the blond. “Oh, that's rich! Like two of you is any better? One pent-up Victorian man-baby is enough.”
It's at this point there's a sudden unspoken agreement between both Charles --- things have gotten wildly out of hand. The brunette lowers his weapon, trying for a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, alright things got a little heated, yeah? Let's just---”
A chorus of four “Stay out of it, Charles!” reverberates throughout the room.
And that's that.
It’s ten minutes into their increasingly aggressive bickering that something shifts.
Jenny pokes her head in the front door, glances around the room once. There’s a bag of takeout in her hand most likely for Crystal, because even if she acts like none of them are her problem, she's become the functional adult of the group whether she likes it or not. It's become even more evident since their collective move back to London. But clearly, she doesn’t like what she sees.
“Oh, fuck this.” And then shuts the door behind her on the way out.
There’s a beat of silence, effectively halting any residual arguments. Honestly? They feel kind of stupid. They'd all looked kind of stupid standing around arguing with each other.
Their Crystal finally pipes up. “Okay, so obviously this isn't going to help. This is super weird, I get it. But, do you know how to get home? To your…uh...universe?” And doesn't that sound strange, but what other explanation is there?
The other Charles nods. “Might’ve mucked up the spell, but it's on a time limit. Got something of a failsafe to it, right, Edwin? Should have us back home and sorted by sundown.”
The other Edwin scoffs. “Yes, well, that’s an approximate guess, but I have no reason to believe we’re stranded here.”
The other Crystal shrugs her shoulders, turning to her counterpart. “No harm in hanging out in the meantime, right?”
Some of the tension eases minutely. Charles glances at the weapon in his counterpart’s hand, gives a nod of approval. “Nice bat, mate.”
“Yeah? We were working a case in the states, figured this would do the trick.”
Then there’s two early 19th century boys eyeing each other critically.
“I have…questions, if you’d be amenable.” The blond states plainly, looking positively mortified at the fact he was staring himself down. Technically.
Edwin retrieves his notebook from his pocket, eyebrows raised. He'd treat this as if it was simply another case; parse through it as such.
“As do I.”