cape_kore | video; Day 101

...disappeared. You... four days!

[Listen to that worry in his voice, Charlie. It's almost touching, if his voice didn't keep cutting in and out.]

-the fuck- talking about?

don't mo-

I'm almost-

[He gives up on the fucking thing and a few minutes later he's letting himself in the front door, a little disheveled from waking up on the beach, but otherwise looking exactly as he did when he left.]

[It hurts like hell to move as quickly as he moves when he hears Charlie coming in the door, but he's up from the bed where he'd been lying and into the front room more speedily than he'd thought possible, considering his broken ribs. Charlie's perceptive: he'll probably notice the dark circles under Meyer's eyes. For a moment, he just stands and stares, like he can't believe Charlie is really there, and then he finally speaks.]

What happened to you? Where were you? Are you hurt?

What? The fuck you mean, I only fell asleep on the fucking beach.

[Meyer does look like shit, considerably more shit than the last time he saw him which is not the direction healing is supposed to work in. He steps up to run his fingers over the side of his face.]

You feeling worse today?

You've been gone for four fucking days.

[It sounds at once like an eternity and a relatively brief time for him to be such a mess about it. Charlie's been gone four days. Meyer's had a hangover for four days. It doesn't take a genius to figure out these things are related.]

You disappear for four days and you think you fell asleep on the beach? You don't remember anything?

Four days? The fuck you on about?

[But he can see from Meyer's face, can always see, that the guy isn't kidding.]

How the fuck could I be gone four days? I don't remember shit.

I don't know.

[There's a hard set to his jaw as he says it. I don't know is the second most uncomfortable three word phrase he can possibly imagine, but it's true, he doesn't know. There's only one thing he knows for certain.]

They took you.

[All along, he'd been hoping that, if Charlie disappeared, he'd disappeared back home. But if he doesn't remember anything, then he must have been taken. Anything could have happened to him. It makes Meyer unspeakably, irrationally, angry.]

I got outs, obviously.

[He wishes he could remember how, but you can't have everything. He's looking down at himself, looking for any changes, but he's in the same clothes he was in last night. Four nights ago? He doesn't even need a damn shave.]

They must have...

[He doesn't want to think about what they must have done. True, Charlie looks relatively unharmed, but that doesn't mean that they hadn't done anything to him, to his mind. If he can't remember, clearly something had been done.]

What's the last thing you remember?

[He casts his mind back, but there are no sharp details, the last 24 hours seem to be ridiculously fucking blurry. Of course.]

I was...here? I dunno, I just woke up five fucking minutes ago.

You don't remember them taking you away?

[Them. It's so ridiculously nonspecific. Their captors. The 'scientists.' Whoever it is that's keeping them here. But then, he hadn't noticed Charlie disappearing, either, had he? Hadn't noticed until he woke up the next morning and realized that Charlie was gone. He shakes his head.]

I don't remember anythings. You figure they must've fucking drugged me or some shit?

[His fists clench at his side at the very idea, because fuck this place. Fuck it fucking with them.]

I think they must've. I don't understand how else they'd've gotten rid of your memories.

[There's a part of him that wants to keep asking Charlie if he's all right, if he's sure he's all right, but he doesn't want to fuss over him, and he sure as hell doesn't want Charlie to know how frantic with worry he'd been. So for lack of anything better to do with his hands, he smooths back his too-long hair before speaking again.]

You feel sick? Hungover? If they drugged you, you'd still be feeling it.

No. Not even fucking hungry. A little sore from sleeping on the fucking rocks.

[He wants to reach out and add his hand to the one stroking through Meyer's hair, but he holds off for now. It doesn't do much for Meyer to pretend he wasn't worried, Charlie knows him too well for that. He can see from the dark rings around his eyes and the way his hands are shaking that he isn't okay. He just wants to step forward and grab him around his shoulders and tell him he'd never fucking go anywhere, not without him, he never would. But Meyer wants to fuss, so he lets him get it out of his system.]

I thought you weren't coming back.

[And if Charlie had gone home, maybe it would have been best for him if he hadn't come back. But knowing what he knows now, that Charlie had been taken, that anything could have happened to him while he was gone...]

I should've tracked down whoever the hell took you.

Like you had any fucking idea where to starts. Hey.

[Because he knows this part, knows this is where Meyer gets too angry and worried and he shuts down and Charlie is so not dealing with that right now, so he steps in, comes into Meyer's space, stepping neatly around the walls he's furiously throwing up.]

C'mere.

I looked around the town a couple times.

[He'd also thrown things, and punched walls, and made a fool of himself in front of Ned, but he'd cleaned up the mess, and the house is spotless, no signs of his temper tantrum anywhere. He won't bring it up. He doesn't exactly step closer to Charlie, but he doesn't step away, either, and that's something. Something small, but still something.]

You're sure you're all right?

Got all the fingers I fucking fell asleep with.

[You're being an idiot, Meyer, he meant closer. He reaches a hand out, coming down on Meyer's shoulder. Just holding. Just for now.]

[He moves infinitesimally closer, somewhat encouraged by the hand on his shoulder.]

That doesn't mean there aren't other ways you could be hurt. Ways we can't see.

You needs to check or something?

[That little movement in encouraging. He'll wait for the next one. Maybe. Unless Meyer takes too long.]

I can't check on things I can't see.

[They could have done something to his mind -- they'd made him forget the days he'd been gone, after all, made him forget he'd been taken away at all. He takes another small step forward, beginning to close what remains of the gap between them.]

[Meyer is moving towards him, at last, and he moves before he can change his mind, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close.]

Hey. I'm here now, rights?

Yeah.

[His posture's still stiff, like he's not quite sure what to do with himself, but he's not pulling away.]

You're here now, I'm here now, but for how long?

Hey, come on.

[A hand wraps around the back of his head, not gently but firm and demanding and undeniably present, holding on like he's afraid Meyer might think he'll disappear again.]

You knows I hate that melancholic fucking bullshit you gets into.

[He has to smile a little at that, leaning into Charlie just slightly, reassured by his presence. It's true; he gets melancholy, and when he gets that way, he tends to put up as many walls as possible. Charlie rarely allows it.]

Okay. No more of that melancholic fucking bullshit.

[Or at least, he'll try. There's still worry written all over his face.]

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