Chapter Text
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
For what it’s worth, Charles has adapted really well to their whole deal with the Lost found Department, despite past incidents. He’s learned to cooperate with their new ‘chaperone’, and would even consider their relationship cordial now that they have spent time working together. He takes his job seriously, and holds respect for all members involved with the detective agency. He does.
However, his patience has never measured up to the steel strength of Edwin’s in the face of Charlie’s pestering. And today his is running thin.
Charlie stands in their office with a stack of papers in her hands, wearing the same snappy expression she always tends to have around them. She’s got Charles tied up in an argument over their filing system and how things should be properly labeled and organized according to department policy, which is a load of tosh considering their agency is not directly affiliated with the Lost and Found department, they’re just working under her supervision. They didn’t sign a bloody contract agreeing to any kind of ownership, and they don’t bloody plan to. The dead boy detectives have their own way of doing business, and that has done them just fine for the last thirty-five years.
Here’s the thing: not all cases end with Death. Sometimes their job is to rid the living of a paranormal entity, or assist other ghosts with tasks that require a little more expertise. Turns out they’re not the only ghosts prolonging their time on the mortal plane. There are other souls still working on their unfinished business themselves. In fact, the ghost they met at the Aldwych theater was one of them. He chose to stay, just like Charles and Edwin.
Therefore, as Charles has tried very patiently to explain, their casework doesn’t always look the same on paper. Edwin is extremely particular about how each case is filed; with names, information and how their cases begin and end. The cards on the door are a handy, more simplified tool, and additional notes are kept elsewhere. It’s all part of the process in maintaining their library full of decades long history. It’s special, and needs nobody’s grubby hands on it making unnecessary adjustments.
To his growing aggravation, Charles’ reasoning isn’t getting through to Charlie. Since coming back from her very important- very vague- business trip, she’s been chewing away at them nonstop over case reports and deadlines. As if they can even predict how long each case will take them. Nevermind the whole Highgate fiasco, which thankfully happened while she was away and has been kept on the down low since. That bit of chaos definitely set them back, and it’s taken a lot to balance things out, both of them working in overdrive to make a dent in their backlog of cases.
To put it lightly, they’re fucking tired . And this isn’t helping.
“Your work lacks punctuality and finesse. I expect better from you boys.”
“We’ve been busy , alright? Sorry we haven’t been able to keep up with your demands.” He isn’t sorry at all.
“If you would just do as you’re told-”
“You’re not the one running our business, you don’t tell us what to do!” Charles points at her. “In case you forgot, we’ve been at this job for decades, way before you came into the picture, so you can take your lousy forms and shove them-”
“Watch your tongue, young man.” The night nurse warns, and Charles shuts himself up right quick. Acid drips down his throat as he swallows his boiling anger, trying to channel the kind of poised control that Edwin is made of. Edwin isn’t even in the room anymore, he probably left ages ago to get away from the noise, letting Charles fend for himself. Charles doesn’t fault him for it, he wouldn’t want to stick around for this shit show either.
“Look…” Charles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not trying to fight with you, I’m just trying to keep what’s ours. We have a system in place, and if we change it around I promise you you’ll be a lot less satisfied with how things are done. There’s a lot on our plate right now, so just cut us some slack , will you? And we’ll turn in the reports.”
They both stand on their petty battleground in a tense moment of silence. Charles can practically hear the sizzle between them. Charlie is stubborn as all hell but Charles knows he can outwill her, and does.
With a crisp tut, she finally retreats. “Three days extension.” She slaps the papers against his chest. “Fix these, and I’ll be back to collect them.”
Her fingers snap in the air and she vanishes just like that. The breath Charles didn’t even know he was holding whooshes out of him, and he takes a second to shake away his rancid mood before going to find Edwin, gracelessly dropping the forms on their desk to worry about later.
Charles finds him on the rooftop, just as he suspected. Edwin tends to sit up here when he needs some quiet time, or when he’s feeling stressed. The fading daylight traces the line of his shoulders, slanted downwards like he couldn’t be bothered to set them straight. It’s a rare sight. The grief draped over his bones is heavy, enough to morph his perfect posture into something wilting. Only when Edwin is deep in his head does he let it show, and today is one of those days.
Charles soundlessly drifts over and settles down by Edwin’s side on the raised ledge, close enough to touch but not forcing through his personal bubble. Edwin doesn’t acknowledge Charles directly, but presses slightly into him. His eyes don’t leave his hands which are sat in his lap, holding a red worn piece of sea glass. The one Niko gave him. He rubs it lovingly with his thumbs, like a worry stone.
“Thank you for handling that.” Edwin says, low and calm. “My apologies for having abandoned you.”
“Nah, no harm done. I managed to whittle her down and got us an extension. She’ll leave us be for a few.”
“Whittle her down?” One thick brow slowly raises in his direction.
“Staring contest, I won.”
Edwin laughs in his throat, and allows Charles to link their fingers together. He mimics the soothing motions on Edwin’s skin. It’s the best he can do, for now. Edwin has never been the vocal type when it comes to deeper feelings; a trait they both share and have been working hard on. Still, Charles doesn’t need to hear it to know. Edwin is made up of many languages, most of them too cryptic for Charles to read, but he’s made it a point to study this one religiously. He’s sensitive to Edwin’s moods, almost like a sixth sense. Whenever they fall out of orbit even in the slightest, Charles feels it wholly, in a way he’s never been able to explain.
He leans in a centimeter more. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”
Silence stretches for several seconds before Edwin opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. “I’ve been…inflicted…”
“By what?”
“Severe melancholy.” Edwin says the word like it tastes bad. A sigh breaks out of him. “I’m missing her more than usual, today.”
Charles hums in agreement, past the ache in his chest. “I miss her too. She would have been buzzed over yesterday’s case. Guinea pigs all over the place.”
The memory warms Edwin’s eyes, his smile fragile as he nods. “She would have…they’d have liked her far more than they did me. Bit of a mess. I’m sorry I have not been…’on my A game’ as you would say.”
“Oi, I thought we gave that word the boot.” Charles nudges his arm.
“I feel it is warranted in this case.” Another sigh. “I am not good at this.”
“At what?”
“Grieving.”
Charles squeezes his hand a little tighter. “Neither am I. Who is? I mean, I know you love rules but there really aren't any when it comes down to it. I don’t think there’s a proper way about it.”
“I know.” Edwin breathes. “It would be so much easier if there were.”
It sucks, there’s not much else to say. It just sucks.
Having died young, neither of them have much of a history with personal loss. The worst Charles can remember is the death of his childhood dog. They’re no strangers to grief, considering the amount of cases that have revolved around it. But after Port Townsend, after Niko, they were left with an emptiness so foreign, so permanent, that they didn’t know what to do with it. Of course they found a way to carry on, as is necessary to continue business. But this particular loss punched a hole in them that no amount of time or work can truly mend. For them, the agency was a distraction, delaying the hurt, and ultimately making it worse. It still feels fresh, months and months later. Even as they roll into another winter, another year. Some days it’s all good, and others it’s just this: a quiet sorrow.
Edwin has been out of sorts for the last couple of days, drowning himself in casework, organizing and foraging for tasks to pass the time. He tends to do that when his emotions make him restless. Just how Charles puts himself into motion when it’s too much for his body. He’s always there at a moment's notice, Crystal too. They’ve all become a tad more codependent as a group, but what else can you do?
How do you heal a wound that never closes? You can’t, really. It just sort of sits there, scabbing over and opening back up without warning. It might get smaller, but it’ll never be gone for good. The hardest part, as they’ve learned, is letting yourself feel it for what it is. It’s easier, it turns out, to run from Death than run from grief.
Charles knows how deep Niko’s death cut Edwin, but he also feels like something else is eating at him. That familiar spark of confidence has dulled, somehow.
Just as Charles opens his mouth to ask about it, Edwin gasps through his teeth and yanks his hand away. Charles looks down at the empty space between them, where a small house spider is passing through. It makes its exit unharmed, but leaves a fidgety Edwin in its wake. A bit odd. Charles scoots it along further until it slips through a crack.
Edwin looks uncharacteristically humiliated. “Sorry, thank you.”
“Spiders bothering you?” Charles wonders as Edwin retakes his hand.
“I have developed a distaste for them as of late.” Is all he says, and Charles has to solve the rest in his head. He gets the jist, though.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, mate. I mean, I’m afraid of doors now, so…” He shrugs.
“I noticed.” Because of course he did. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not any more than you do.” Charles replies, and they leave it at that.
Edwin’s birthday rolls up on them, without a word about it from Edwin. He stays locked at the desk reading and annotating and filing. Like he really thinks Charles will just casually let it pass by, carried away with the wind. Charles knows the list of errands in his hand is just a ploy to get his mind off the date. Clever for sure, but this isn’t something Charles is capable of forgetting.
He does fulfil Edwin’s requests, devoted as he is, but takes a detour afterwards to scrounge up some supplies for his newest project. A quick trip to a local antique shop is just the ticket, plus an extra stop at Crystal’s for a small favor. He eventually returns home some hours later, his bag of tricks holding a number of new gadgets, and finds Edwin sat in the same place, unmoved.
“Welcome home, Charles.” Edwin greets without separating his eyes from his book. He’s clearly engrossed by whatever morbid information is laid out on the pages, something about parasitic mutations. Charles unloads his pack and sets Edwin’s things down one by one on the corner of the desk.
“Got everything you needed, even managed to trade off some of our unwanted trinkets.”
“Excellent.” Edwin briefly stops reading to observe the collection in front of him. Charles takes the list from his pocket and hands it over so Edwin can cross all the items off for his own satisfaction. He reaches into his jacket but comes up empty handed. “Have you seen my-”
Charles spots his missing pen on the floor and retrieves it for him.
“Ah, thank you, dear.”
The word takes Charles off guard, but not in a bad way. Edwin catches himself late, not even aware he’s said it. He makes no comment, but the grip on his pen tightens as it hovers over the checklist. He seems embarrassed, but Charles is altogether smitten by it.
With a gooey smile on his face, Charles tilts forward. “Sure thing, love.” He hums, slinking away from the desk and feeling giddy at the soft look Edwin sends his way. Charles thought he’d be the one to crack a nickname first. Every day is something new.
He spends the majority of the day hunched over the floor of the office, fumbling with copper and glass. He keeps his noise levels low so as not to distract Edwin and spoil the surprise. It takes him two hours to get it working how he wants, and when Edwin finally steps out to make a library run, Charles digs around to locate the final element that will complete his project.
It takes him a minute to find it, but in one of the side drawers of the desk is a small handmade wooden box, lined with plush fabric. There are some dried flowers kept inside, along with the little red piece of glass Charles was looking for. He gingerly takes it from the box and places it in the small compartment at the base of his device. With a little practice, he’ll have it ready before the night is up.
Edwin pops through the mirror thirty minutes later, new book in hand. The one thing he always does on his birthday is visit the library, not for business but for fun. Because his version of fun differs just slightly from others, and is nothing out of the ordinary as he has said for years now. Charles gave up that argument long ago.
Hardly missing a beat, Edwin settles back in his chair and starts writing again. If they weren’t already ghosts then Charles might think Edwin is some overworked office bloke doing overtime to make up for missed deadlines. That’s kind of true in a way, and the thought makes his stomach sour, especially after watching Edwin slave over reports on his bloody birthday. He works himself into the night, still unbothered but visibly tiring. His pace slows down to a crawl as he reviews case files, and every time Charles tries to get his attention he’s met with absent responses.
Time to put an end to it.
Charles finishes up his work and cruises over to the desk, casually roaming over the various opened books and piles of notes. How Edwin can effortlessly cram information into his skull for hours on end will forever baffle him. He’s exhausted after one study session alone.
“Edwin?”
“Hm?”
“Fancy a break? I’ve got something to show you.” Charles braces his hands along the wood, toying with a piece of paper hanging over the edge.
“Mhm. That’s wonderful.” Edwin’s eyes stay glued to the foreign texts laid on the desk.
“You haven’t even seen it yet.” Charles’ hands twitch.
“Of course, dear.”
That about does it. Charles whirls around the desk until he’s at Edwin’s side, grabs hold of his chair and spins it sideways so Edwin is forced to look him in the eye. All the usual radiance of his porcelain skin has dimmed, making him look washed out and more ghost like than anything.
“Hey, look at me will you? I get that you’re invested in our work, but you’ve hardly left this desk for days, it’s like you’re withering away right in front of me.”
Edwin finally holds his gaze, a drop of guilt seeping onto his face. Charles inches closer, not to crowd him but just to seek understanding. “Come on now, what’s going on with you?”
He patiently waits for Edwin to give him an answer. The exhaustion is clear in the slump of his shoulders, finally revealed after being removed from his all consuming work zone.
“I didn’t mean to neglect you, I’ve-” Edwin takes a deep breath, lets it out all at once. “I’ve been feeling rather incompetent lately, and felt the need to improve myself. I only know how to do that through work.”
Ah, there it is. The splinter in his confidence. The common fear of not being good enough. Even a genius like Edwin gets caught up in his mistakes, little as they are. From what Charles can recall he had one slip up on a spell several days ago that nearly set a factory ablaze, but no heavy damage was done. That wasn’t enough to keep Edwin from dwelling on it, though.
Charles kneels in front of him, his tone gentle but resolute. “Hate to break it to you, love, but working yourself to dust isn’t going to help. You’re knackered. That big brain of yours needs to rest. Unless you’re looking to repeat the orb incident of ‘95?”
Edwin barely suppresses an eyeroll. “No, but I wouldn’t have let it reach that point.”
“Close to it, by the looks of you. Now come on, put a bookmark in it and let me show you this.”
“If I could just finish-” Edwin tries to wheel back to his station but Charles twists him the other way.
“No! You’re cut off for the night.” He half laughs, dragging the chair further out. “Deadlines can wait a tick, I want to give you something.” In ten seconds, Charles phases right through the desk and rummages through his backpack, then he’s back at his previous place next to Edwin.
He carefully presents his gift, suddenly a little self conscious of his handiwork as he sets it down in front of Edwin. It’s a small oil lamp, slim and polished, with an extra compartment added beneath the glass to replace the burner. Edwin takes in the piece with mild curiosity. Right now it looks like any ordinary antique, but Charles has turned it into something special.
“You know that light spell you taught me after the kobalos case? It gave me an idea.” Charles demonstrates by casting the spell into his open palm, until a golden light appears. He transfers the ball of light to the lamp, changing the glow to a pinkish red.
Edwin smiles proudly at Charles’ success, inspecting more closely. “It’s lovely, how did you get it to change color?”
Charles points to the bottom. “Check the compartment.”
Edwin does so, finding the thin drawer that slides out of the base, and then gasps in soft bewilderment.
“ Oh. ” He stares at the familiar red sea glass nestled inside and it’s like the life in him has been restored.
“I figured this way, Niko can keep you company better than staying in a box. Crystal even had some of her jewelry stashed away, so I soldered a few pieces to it.” He thinks the tiny gems are a nice addition, they give it character.
Edwin slips the tray back into place, drinking in the sweet strawberry glow for a moment. His expression is a mixture of grief and awe, and it takes another moment of mental calibration before he can give Charles any feedback.
He abruptly stands, eyes still cast upon the lamp. “This is…” He blinks, speechless again.
“It’s alright if you don’t like it, you can be honest.” Charles says.
“No.” Edwin snaps his head to Charles, a flurry of emotion passing over his face. “This is brilliant, Charles. I’ve never- it’s the best thing anyone has given to me.” His voice is breathy and sincere, and he steps over to wind his arms around Charles in a tight embrace.
“Thank you.” He whispers. “I love it. Very much.”
“I’m glad. Happy birthday, Eds.” Charles smiles into his hair and gives him an extra squeeze for good measure. They separate about a foot, so Edwin can look at him begrudgingly, but lighthearted.
“What, not happy that I remembered your birthday? Too bad, there’s plenty more to go. Better get used to it.”
“I suppose I have no choice.”
“No, you really don’t.” Charles affirms in his strictest voice, and Edwin chuckles in his hold.
Neither of them bother to leave their position. Instead, Edwin gently settles a hand on his jaw as his focus drifts towards Charles’ mouth. “May I?”
Charles smiles affectionately. “You don’t have to ask, you know.”
“Right.” Edwin fights his own bashful smile, then closes the distance between them.
It’s a privilege, Charles thinks, to be kissed by Edwin, to be loved by him. He’s very particular with affection, but plenty capable, and any amount willingly given away is a precious thing. With time he’s become more comfortable, and this side of him is something that only Charles gets to know.
Edwin kisses in the same way he solves cases: thoughtfully, methodically, paying attention to detail. Charles lets him take the lead, following his rhythm and enjoying every second. He sits back against the desk and runs his hands along Edwin’s exposed forearms, making room for Edwin to settle between his legs. Edwin holds his face, touches his hair and shoulders. It’s a mixture of old and new. Charles realizes belatedly that they haven’t done this in what feels like ages. They’ve hardly had any extended alone time lately, what with all the chaos that orbits the agency 24/7. This kind of feels like their first official date, when they spent a night out downtown and didn’t break contact for nearly the entire time. Charles feels warm all over despite his dead self. They move slow and sweet, then pick up momentum, hands roaming and breaths gasping for air they don’t need. Edwin presses a little closer, Charles kisses a little harder, and they dissolve.
Charles can’t say how much time passes with the two of them wrapped up in each other, but of course it doesn’t last long enough. The postman loudly appears in their office just as Charles is trailing kisses along Edwin’s jawline. Both of them startle so hard they topple onto the desk, almost knocking Edwin’s custom lamp right to the floor. Charles throws his arm back and catches it at an awkward angle. They fumble to collect themselves, embarrassment evident on both their faces. The postman either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t give a shit. He’s in and out in a jiff, dropping another sizable stack of mail on the other end of the desk before vanishing through the wall. Edwin and Charles stand dumbstruck for a moment, still disheveled, but laugh it off a moment later.
“I’d say we better lock the door next time, but that’s a bit useless, innit?”
Edwin laughs with his face in his hands and goes to sort through the mail, tossing a few letters his way in mock aggression. They organize it together, filtering through all the junk while making light conversation. Sneaking kisses in here and there. Edwin obeys Charles’ request to save the rest of their assignments till morning, deciding to get a little midnight reading in. As a last minute upgrade, Charles fixes an extra hook onto the wall so Edwin can set his new light there. He later joins him on the couch, lying back with his head in Edwin’s lap. They bask in the comfort of one another, a gentle hum in the room. Edwin absently plays with a few of Charles’ curls as he reads about ancient mythical creatures. Charles listens to the occasional fun facts about them, which get more bizarre as he goes.
“Got any new stories to share?” Charles asks quietly once Edwin completes the last chapter. He nods, then closes the cover and reaches beside him.
“I put something aside for you.” From behind a throw pillow, Edwin pulls out a copy of Blind Detective, still in mint condition. He presents it with all the nonchalance of someone browsing a car boot sale, like the simple gesture doesn't mean the whole world to Charles. “Not new, per se. But we never did finish this one, did we?”
Charles is struck by the deep rooted memory; traveling back to that dark, frigid night, but feeling none of the cold. The cavern of his chest feels more like a hearth, and he just about falls in love all over again.
Edwin peers down at him, at the soppy, foolish expression Charles is undoubtedly wearing, and tilts his head.
“What is it?”
Charles shakes his head, the sentiment still tied to his lips. “Nah, it’s nothing. I just love you.” His closed smile spreads wider as he takes in Edwin’s reaction; timid but adoring, a slanted smirk giving way to dimples.
“What a coincidence, I’m quite fond of you myself.” He says primly, opening the book and flipping through it. Charles can see the playful squint of his eyes from over the pages, and he chuffs. Edwin’s hand comes down to comb through his hair, and it stays there as he begins reading aloud. Some of the phrases sound familiar, and it’s no shocker that Edwin remembered where they left off all those years ago.
Charles listens to the rest, contented by the pleasant tone of Edwin’s voice. He plays with one of Edwin’s shirt buttons while his mind drifts a bit. He thinks about time, and how much of it they’ve spent at each other’s side. All the torment and pandemonium that they fought through to wind up here, together still. He thinks about fate and destiny and string theories, all bogus to him at one point but far more believable now. He thinks about mirrors and sunsets and gold rings, and what kind of future they might create. It makes Charles nervous and excited at the same time; a whole world of unknowns, of maybes and what ifs. But none of that really matters, does it.
They’ve got forever, after all.