A Story for Charlie by Darkness Enshrouds
Chapter Notes: I'm a horrible person....I suck at updating...feel free to throw tomatoes at me; I promise I won't duck...
Days passed.
She didn’t bother keeping track of time, didn’t bother trying to remember what day it was. Time passed for her in a miserable blur; holed up alone in her apartment, she didn’t even bother opening her curtains to let in the sun. Day or night, she didn’t know and didn’t care. It meant nothing.
Several times she heard someone at her door, knocking, desperately calling her name. Curled in the middle of her bed, Charlie’s sweater pillowed beneath her cheek, Venice didn’t answer.
After a while the knocking stopped, and the silence closed in.
Venice was barely holding together. She’d never been much for crying but now the tears threatened to spill over every moment of each and every day. She couldn’t sleep; she was plagued by nightmares, her ears filled with the sounds of Charlie’s screams as her mind replayed the scene over and over again. She couldn’t eat: nothing would stay down. Being in the kitchen alone caused a flood of tears she couldn’t stop…the counters were still covered with the slowly wilting bouquets that she couldn’t bring herself to throw away. To her sleep-deprived, delusional mind, throwing them out felt like admitting once and for all that Charlie was gone, and wouldn’t be coming back. As long as the flowers filled her countertops, he would be okay.
He’d come back to her.
She knew it was irrational but she couldn’t convince herself otherwise. She was desperate.
She’d charmed Charlie’s sweater so the smell of his cologne wouldn’t fade. The scent was soothing, and if she closed her eyes tight and concentrated with all the energy she could muster, she could almost pretend he was lying in bed beside her, could almost hear the gentle roar of his snoring.
Her heart ached too much if she didn’t pretend.
~~~
Charlie was standing in her bedroom doorway, his lips curved into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes the way she loved. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he was leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her. She stretched dreamily, smiling back at him.
"Come here," she whispered, patting the empty space beside her. His eyes darkened, a frown passing over his face for a split second, gone before she could be sure it was even there.
"I can't stay, Venice. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you."
"Where are you going?"
He didn't answer her, just sent her another smile, and pushed away from the doorframe.
"I love you, Venice. Don't forget that."
He turned away then and began to walk down the hall, out of sight. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding.
"Wait! Charlie, where are you going?"
Silence was the only answer. He was gone. She felt the lump rise in her throat, felt the tears burn at the corners of her eyes, and then they spilled over, dripping down her cheeks. Her chest ached, her throat stung, and she collapsed onto the pillows, unable to stop the sobs...
She was still crying when she woke, her pillow damp with tears beneath her cheek. She could hardly breathe past the lump in her throat.
The dream was still fresh, still vivid, at the front of her mind. It took a moment for Venice to realize it had even been a dream; it had felt so real. She was shivering violently beneath her blankets, her face damp with sweat. She hadn’t been asleep for very long; the clock on the wall blared the time clearly as if it mocked her.
Venice rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, swallowing down the rest of her tears. Her body ached, crying out desperately for sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone more than an hour without being woken by a nightmare, and it had long since taken its toll on her.
Moments later her alarm clock began to beep, loudly and obnoxiously proclaiming the start of her day. Cursing aloud, Venice rolled out of bed, dreading the thought of having to face the day, but at the same time strangely relieved. Even if it was only for a few hours, work kept her mind away from Charlie…
~~~
"Hey Venice?"
Venice looked up from the display of Skiving Snackboxes she was mindlessly straightening, and tried to arrange her face into a pleasant expression.
"Yeah?"
"Mum wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come 'round for dinner tonight."
Fred's eyes were hopeful. She looked away, making a point of inspecting the boxes she’d gathered in her arms.
"I...I don't think so, Fred. I'm sorry. It's been a long day...I'm just tired."
Fred nodded slowly, studying her intently even though she wasn't looking at him. Her cheeks heated and she had to fight the urge to bolt from the shop.
"C'mon, Venice, it's been three weeks...Mum's worried. It's taken me a lot of fancy speeches to keep her from storming your apartment like it's an enemy castle she has to invade."
She smiled vaguely, arranging boxes with perfect precision, avoiding his gaze and praying inwardly he'd go away and leave her alone. Finally she heard him sigh and saw him retreat back to the counter out of the corner of her eye. She breathed a silent sigh of relief and concentrated on making the rows of boxes ruler-straight on each shelf.
It wasn't that she didn't want to see the Weasleys at all, because she did....She saw the twins every day at work, and Ginny had been coming over several times a week, checking on her, making sure she was okay. She just didn't want to see Molly. Venice didn't think she'd be able to handle it if Molly started mothering her, which was almost certain to happen because that's just the sort of person Molly was.
Venice knew she couldn't hide just how broken she really was, especially from Molly.
More often than not she woke at night screaming, crying, trying desperately to break the hold the nightmares kept on her. She couldn't eat much, her stomach turning into tight, uncomfortable knots if she even tried. And worst of all...worst of all was the giant gaping hole in her chest that made it impossible to breathe. Sometimes she was afraid to cross her arms over her chest, certain she'd be able to feel the wound.
Fred and George had tried keeping her away from the shop, but she’d ignored them. She needed to work. She needed to keep her mind busy. She did her best to pretend she was fine whenever she felt them watching her; she couldn’t bear to let them see her break down.
She missed Charlie with every fiber of her being. She felt a bit like an Inferi most days, wandering aimlessly through work without being able to recall what she'd actually done when she got home at night. Her parents had tried to convince her to move home with them until she got back on her feet, but she couldn't. She couldn't leave this apartment. It was still ripe with Charlie's memory, and letting it go was too close to letting HIM go for her to bear.
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell her tears. If she broke down at work the twins would absolutely positively send her to the Burrow, and it was that thought that made it easier to concentrate once more on the shelves in front of her.
When there was nothing left to straighten or tidy, or rearrange, she reluctantly made her way back up the counter. Fred was still standing there, the ledger open on the countertop in front of him. He was leaning on his elbow, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
"Fred?"
He jumped awake, letting out a startled gasp.
"George! I was just thinking!"
"It's just me, Fred. George isn't even here anymore. He left almost an hour ago. I just wanted to tell you I'm heading out."
"Everything all set, then?"
She nodded, barely managing to suppress a yawn. She snatched her cloak from the hook on the office door and tied it around her shoulders. She was always cold of late, the chill never truly leaving her bones.
"I'll see you in the morning, Fred."
She didn't see the smile he threw her as she moved toward the door. She slipped outside, pausing for a moment to readjust to the busy hustle and bustle of the crowd. It was Friday, and Fridays in Diagon Alley were always loud, and claustrophobically clustered with people. She winced at the noise level and slipped into the crowd, cringing every time someone inadvertently bumped into her as she attempted to slide past unnoticed.
She wanted nothing more than the sanctuary of her flat. Her pace quickened.
A flash of red caught her eye, at the edge of a crowd gathered outside the apothecary, flaming auburn hair glimmering in the dying evening light. Her breath caught in her chest.
"Charlie!"
She shouted the name before she could stop herself. Her feet propelled her forward, and then she was running, chasing after an elusive head of red hair.
She was certain it was him, so certain she could feel it deep in her very soul.
"Charlie! Wait, Charlie!"
She stumbled over a loose cobblestone and nearly fell, catching her balance at the last second. It had taken a mere instant, but in those precious seconds she'd lost him. Her quandary had vanished. Her heart beat a terrified tempo.
"Charlie!!" She screamed his name, panicking as she spun in a circle, desperate to catch sight of him again.
She started to jog, glancing into shop windows and staring into alleyways as she passed, unable to admit to herself that she'd lost him, that he'd managed to slip through her fingers when he'd been so close.
She bolted down the street, screaming his name over and over, shoving past anyone that got in her way. Her face was wet with tears; they blurred her vision, turned the inhabitants of the street into fuzzy rainbows. She heard someone call her name but didn't stop running, didn't stop calling Charlie's name; the word kept bubbling forth like a volcano.
"Venice! Hey, c'mon now!"
An arm caught her around the waist, pulling her up short. She struggled to get free only to find herself wrapped in a bear hug, tucked securely against a sweater-clad chest.
George.
The giant "G" on his sweater gave him away. Venice sagged against him, crying so hard now she couldn't breathe. George patted her hair rather awkwardly as he waited out the worst of her tears.
She was so frustrated beneath the tears she wanted to let out another scream. How could she have let him get away? She angrily swiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her cloak and pulled away from George.
"I could have caught up to him, George!"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Venice, Charlie wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. You must have seen someone else."
He stepped forward and made to put his arm around her shoulders but she jerked away, indignant.
"I saw him! He was there, here. I know it was him!"
She backed away, glancing around again, praying she'd spot him in the crowd so George would believe her, but there was nothing. The crowd was starting to disperse, rushing to get home before night fell entirely. Several people were shooting her wary glances as they passed by. She glared at them, silently daring them to speak a word to her.
She wasn't crazy. She knew what she'd seen.
"Venice, why don't you come to the Burrow with me? Mum would love to see you, and so would Ginny...Maybe you could even stay for a couple days..."
She closed the distance between them and jabbed a finger angrily in his chest.
"Don't make me out to be some sort of lunatic, George Weasley! I saw Charlie! I SAW HIM."
George’s mouth dropped open. Several wordless noises squeaked out, but she didn't stick around to hear them. She stalked away, infuriated and embarrassed at the same time. Tears stung the corners of her eyes again and she blinked them away.
"I never said you were a lunatic; we're just worried about you! Come back, please, so we can talk!"
"Leave me alone, George!"
She shouted the words over her shoulder and broke into a run. She wouldn't be surprised if he tried to catch her again, and she was determined not to let it happen. She didn’t trust herself to be civil with him, or to say something she wouldn’t later regret.
She didn't remember the rest of the walk to her flat. The next thing Venice knew she was outside her door, waving her wand to release her wards. She flung the door open and stormed inside, slamming it shut behind her.
It was nearly impossible to breathe; her chest was tight, as though someone had tied a rope around her rib cage and was pulling it snug. She felt dizzy and ill, yet still seething with anger beneath it all. She was angry with George, and angry with herself, angry at anyone that had gotten in her way.
She could have caught up to him. Venice was so certain it had been Charlie that she would have sworn her life on it had anyone asked. She’d recognize that shade of hair, the muscular build of his shoulders, anywhere.
She sagged against the wall, bent over, and tried to breathe. Someone pounded on her door but she couldn’t find her voice to answer them.
–Venice!â€
The voice was muffled through the door but it sounded like Bill.
–Venice, open the door!â€
She was frozen to the spot; her doorknob jiggled once, twice, and then the door banged open.
–Merlin! Are you okay?â€
Venice merely shook her head. She clutched a hand to her chest, pressing against her ribs where the pain, the feeling of tightness, was the worst. A pair of hands pushed her down until she was seated on the carpet with her head between her knees.
–Just breathe, Venice. It’s going to be okay.â€
Venice rested her head against her knees, eyes closed, concentrating on the air passing in and out of her lungs. Slowly, achingly slowly, the pain in her chest began to disappear. She was still dizzy, still felt ill, but she could breathe.
After a moment she picked her head up and glanced around. George was sitting beside her on the carpet, watching her silently. She couldn’t quite read the look on his face.
–What happened, Venice?â€
He sounded so worried. Her eyes filled with tears, several of them spilling over and rolling down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she could only stare at George as the tears came faster. George wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulder, and then Venice was sobbing into his shirt. She was helpless against the flood of tears that poured out of her. George mumbled something, and she felt him pull away and stand up, but she couldn’t move. She curled into a miserable ball there on the floor and wept.
Time passed. She didn’t know how long she sat there, bawling, before George returned. He pulled Venice to her feet and looped his arm around her waist, holding her steady.
–We’re going to the Burrow, Venice.â€
She wanted to protest but George was already turning on the spot, and then her flat was gone.
Chapter Endnotes: *cough*....well?