fixer and broken

who: charlie and maddy
where: her place
when: a while back

Still bleary eyed, Madeline watched the kettle struggle to come to a boil while trying to get some dried blue paint off her thumb. Usually she was a little perkier in the mornings but with the cold night weather, she’d been happily cocooned in her blankets on the drab couch and had been reluctant to get up. So instead she stood in the kitchen where it was warmer, knitted fingerless gloves on her arms and a ratty red sweater coupled with her blanket. She’d promised Charlie breakfast and while she had first thought of taking him to Nighthawks, there was the money issue. He didn’t have any and she’d just paid rent. So it was oatmeal and some spotty bananas. She did manage to pocket some apples on the way home the day before so those were sitting out and she thought about eating one when there was a knock on the door.

Charlie was inexplicably nervous. But then, he figured Madeline just did that to him. He wasn't ever quite sure how to behave around her. He viewed her as somewhat untouchable, for a variety of reasons, even if he would always be her friend and there for her. It was also a bit weird for him because he'd cut ties with everyone else, and so having contact with her still felt like it didn't fit correctly. But she wasn't a part of what had happened to him, and she also wasn't into anything illegal, so technically, he had absolutely no reason to not see her. He just had to wonder if anyone would take offense. After he knocked, he ducked his head in. "Madeline?" he called quietly, just in case she was asleep or something.

“Hey, Charlie,” she greeted muzzily and shuffled over to the door. She’d faithfully visited him in prison every few weeks while he’d been in and part of her still had to adjust to see him in person without glass separating them, having to talk through little drilled holes. She gave him a sleepy sort of smile and beckoned him in. “It’s cold. Come into the kitchen and watch water boil with me. It’s warmer in there.” The apartment was small and run down but it was better than what was usually found in the sprawl. Sketchpads and paints and colored pencils littered most of the flat surfaces and there were a few canvases leaning against the wall, half completed. Early light streamed in through the dirty windows, catching on the spots of yellow through the apartment. The yellow throw rug, the yellow flowers painted on the wall. “I’m trying to make oatmeal and it was supposed to be done when you got here. So your either early or my stove is terrible at boiling water.”

Charlie slipped inside and shut the door behind himself, taking off his coat. He didn't hang it up, however, he headed up behind Madeline and dropped it onto her shoulders. "Boiling water. Knew there was a reason I came by. Love watching that stuff." he told her, a light little half smile on his lips. She always got a lighter version of his personality. It was partially because she was a girl, partially because she'd helped keep him sane on the inside. She'd not been there all the time or anything, but often enough. And she hadn't come at the beginning then stopped, like some people had. "I might be early--couldn't sleep." he admitted.

“The stove isn’t that great either,” she pointed out, grateful for the jacket. “But I got some apples yesterday if you want something to munch on.” Madeline nudged him to the kitchen where she discarded the blanket so it didn’t catch on fire and peered at the kettle. It was trying to whistle at least. Smiling gently at him she took a seat at the little table and pushed out the other chair with her foot for him to sit in. “Dreams?” she asked. “Or too much space?” Space seemed like it could be an intimidating thing after spending years in a small confined space for most of the day, even if before he’d shared his home with the other boys of the group. She also imagined that, while he may never have explicitly stated such, he’d spent so long with one eye always open that it was difficult to readjust. And maybe he didn’t want to go into it. Madeline was someone who cared about her friends and she was there to listen.

He sat down, making a little bit of a face. "...too much space, still." he said quietly. He'd told her about it, how it only really kicked in when he was about to go to sleep. When he was trying to. During the day? A lot of the time he wanted to be out and about, in as much open air as he could get. But when he wanted to shut his eyes... "I'll get over it, nothing to worry about." he assured her, tone back to normal. He even tried a smile on for her. "What've you been working on?"

Madeline looked at him steadily when he tried to assure her. “I don’t worry about you because you can’t take care of yourself. I worry about you because you’re my friend and I’ve known you almost my whole life and you’re having to readjust,” she told him, not wanting him to ever mistake her concern for him as pity. As if he wasn’t deserving of it or that he had to ‘be a man’ about it. “And no one says you have to get over anything. You were in prison, Charlie. That’s going to change you and being a different person than you were when you went in is nothing to be ashamed about or worry over.” She reached for his hand and held it in hers. “I worry about you because I want you to succeed and have a good life because you’re my Charlie and I worry…” she frowned a little. “Which I already said. It’s early.” She smiled at him sheepishly and squeezed his hand.

Oddly, her comment did make him feel better. That her worry stemmed from someplace different. It was easier to take, even if he didn't really want her to worry. He supposed it was nice to know someone did. He listened to her sort of repeat herself, but it was okay. He gave her a little smile, and squeezed her hand in return. "Thanks." he told her, genuine, even if he wasn't eloquent with it. "Not sure how succeeding's going to go, though. I don't feel..." he paused, not sure what to say. He almost wanted to say 'real', but that sounded crazy, didn't it?

“You were in there for awhile,” she said gently. “And you’re not going back to the way things used to be. It’s going to be weird but it doesn’t mean you’re not succeeding. You don’t want to go back to doing whatever it is they’re doing, right? And you haven’t yet. I think that’s succeeding, don’t you?” She knew he wanted to run the straight and narrow now and she didn’t blame him. She’d been angry at Dodge a long time after Charlie got pinched, until she realized that she didn’t need to waste her time on anger and instead focused on being there for Charlie. Besides, she couldn’t be mad at Dodge forever, not if she eventually wanted to get into her less than legal business… which was something she was not telling Charlie. Ever. “How don’t you feel?” The kettle finally started to whistle, weakly, but it whistled and she moved away to turn it off and pour it into bowls of oatmeal, sending the smell of brown sugar through the little kitchen.

"Real." he said, slumping back in his chair, eyes on a middle distance. He didn't have another word, so she got the true one. "I don't know, I'm that peg that doesn't fit anymore." he told her, refocusing his gaze on the blonde. "I just...the world went on without me, and I'm never going to quite catch up. And my family's gone. I can't go back to them, and even if I found myself able to...I don't belong there anymore." He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. "I know I've said all this before. I just...don't feel any better about it. I keep waiting to feel better, and I don't."

Madeline nodded a little as she stirred the oatmeal before bringing it over to the table. “Give it a minute,” she advised, taking her own seat again. Real seemed like a good description even if it was abstract. She considered what he said, going over it and what she knew. “Do you feel… unstructured?” she asked.

Charlie thought about it for a moment, but in the end shook his head. "I don't think it's that. I think it's just that waiting for things to feel better part, and it doesn't happen. It should have happened by now, right? I should be feeling better that I'm out, I should be feeling better that I made a decision in my life and am sticking to it...I should feel better."

She nodded in understanding. “Do you miss them?” she asked, referring to Jason and Dodge and the other boys he used to run with. They’d been together for years after all and even if he cut ties with his past life, Madeline didn’t believe he wouldn’t miss his friends in some capacity.

"Of course I miss them." Charlie said. That was the easy answer. It was everything else that made it less simple. "But that isn't this. Or, it contributes, but not exactly only in that way. There's betrayal there too. I miss them but I'm never going to forget what happened. And how Dodge, he just..." he trailed off. "Doesn't get it. And the fact that he doesn't just...makes it seem like what happened to me didn't matter. Like it never even gave him pause. Like he kept going, and then just skipped back over to get me when I was done, and grinned and everything like it was all some big game. He does that, he just thinks of everything as a game." Maybe that was what his root trouble with Dodge was. "It wasn't a game to me."

Madeline didn’t know Dodge well enough to really comment on his worldviews to a depth but she knew it was frustrating for him. “I think he’s one of those people that nothing quite gets through to him unless it happens to him.” That’s the impression she got from the second hand conversations and stories told. “Like he knows the stove is hot but to truly get it, he has to burn himself. And there are people who are like that. It doesn’t make us feel any better when we want someone to understand. But it doesn’t mean those people don’t try. Or maybe they’re people who do understand, but they have their own coping mechanisms to deal and process something.” She was honest in her opinion, even if maybe it wasn’t what Charlie wanted to hear. “Did you talk to him? Like, sit down and have a real conversation with him where you two communicated your feelings on the situation and why things had to change?”

"Trying ain't enough." Charlie said. "It just isn't. I can't be around someone I want to punch in the face constantly." Even if he missed the guy as well. "It's my life. And it's been utterly fucked, and he's just prancing around like it didn't matter." He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think anything I said sank in."

“You don’t have to be around him all the time,” she said. “But what kind of life is it if you’re going through it every day holding this anger in? It eats at you. Slowly but surely it’s just going to spread. It’ll make you resentful and bitter.” It was already starting and with Dodge and Jason having hit the jackpot and Charlie still struggling? “It’s not fair to you. I’m not saying forgive him right now. You’re allowed to feel angry and hurt and upset but eventually you’re going to have to step back and say no more to it and move on. But you need to have a conversation with him – a real one, not one where you just walked out of prison where you’re not even used to the world again. Give it time. Write him letters but don’t send them. Let yourself work through it, but you two are going to have to talk about this. You owe it to yourself to get closure and you don’t have closure. Not yet. And you can’t with it so fresh. That’s okay.” She finally dug into her oatmeal as she let all of that hang in the air. Forgiveness was a hard thing but it was the only lesson she took from the orphanage. She forgave her adoptive mother but just because she forgave didn’t mean she had to move in with the woman. It was still a burden that she no longer had to carry.

He wondered if she had missed the part where he was already resentful and bitter. But he didn't say anything about it. Mostly he just pushed the oatmeal he had in front of him around with his spoon as she spoke. "Why would I have to talk to him? What exactly would that accomplish?" he asked. "And why are you so hot to have me do so in the first place? Why are you on his side?" he asked. Then he leveled his gaze on her again. "Did something happen between you two? You one of the many girls he's got on the hook?" He didn’t understand. “Why should I be the one to go back, or suffer through and just avoid him while around? That doesn’t even make sense. I left for a good goddamn reason, you know, and you just throwing it around like that’s nothing is just as bad as when he did it.” He looked hurt, that shown in his eyes.

Madeline had been fully prepared to reply when he gave her that look and she stared back at him, stunned that he’d make that kind of accusation to her. Yes, it was out of hurt, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair with a guarded look. “I’m not saying that you need to go to him tomorrow and put it behind you,” she said quietly. “You don’t ever have to talk to him if that’s what you decide to do. I’m just saying that I don’t want to see you stuck in hurt and anger and resentment over this for the rest of your life, wondering about every choice you made before then. That I hope someday you’ll be able to let all of that negativity go and you can be happy and move on with the life that you want.” She wasn’t hungry anymore and she reached up to twirl her hair around her finger, tugging the curl in annoyance. “I know you left. I’m not telling you to go back. I’m just telling you that walking away from your family isn’t easy, even if it’s for a good reason.”

"Yeah, you did. You were just telling me all about how I have to go talk to him, or I have to go back, or just avoid him, or whatever. How isn't that you telling me to go back? And frankly, why should I go talk to him when I was the wronged party to begin with? I...whatever, Madeline, I can see where your loyalties lie." And he had no idea when that had happened, but maybe it had gone on when he'd been inside, and she'd just not told him. "Going to talk to Dodge isn't going to magically make anything better. Because you know what he'll do? He'll be exactly the same as he's always been. And it'll be more smug fucking arrogance, more 'but look how great I am now', and more bullshit. All it would do is make me more angry. Who knows, maybe he'll even give me a pathetic amount of money again when I know he's rolling in it. Punishment, I suppose, for not bending to his will and just coming back like nothing ever happened and prison was a cake walk. How would that ever help me?" He pushed his bowl away as well. "I'm going to go. You need the heat fixed in here. Talk to Huck, he'll get it fixed for you." He had faith Jason would foot that bill. He'd have the money. Even if he felt betrayed and abandoned by her right now, that didn't mean they didn't have a very long history, and he'd never actually turn his back on her. If she ever needed him for anything, she'd have support. He just didn't think he could listen to what he viewed as nonsensical madness. Not from her. Not when she'd been one of the only good things to look forward to when he'd been on the inside...which was why this all hurt as badly as it did.

Madeline stared at him, still shocked, even more so by his preparedness to leave. “Christ, Charlie, do you hear yourself?” she asked him, getting up from the table so she could look at him. “Yes, I think you two should eventually talk, no, I did not tell you to go back to the life you left and if you just want to avoid the whole thing, you can. Also, don’t you ever pull that loyalty bullshit to me ever again. How dare you say that to me. How long have we been friends, Charlie? And I haven’t left yet and I’m not going to leave, so don’t give me that ridiculous ‘Whatever, Madeline’ because it’s not going to work. I’m telling you that this is ripping you up inside and you can’t let it do that to you. I won’t let you do that to yourself because watching you like that is…” she shook her head and crossed her arms. “I don’t want to see everything that made you a good person, made you my friend, vanish. I know that there was prison, I know it was hard for you and things will never be the same and I came there to see you so you could hold onto something. So you wouldn’t let it destroy you. Don’t let this thing with Dodge destroy you. That’s what I’m talking about. I love you, Charlie. I am your friend and I want to help you.” She looked at him beseechingly, upset and unsure but she wasn’t just going to let him try walk away thinking the wrong thing. “Because all that’s there is this anger and rage and I understand why you feel it. But I refuse to stand by and let you just stew in it until that’s all that’s left.”

"Well maybe you just need to give me time, instead of jumping to the next step. I'm not better. Things aren't going to get better, as far as I can see. Maybe all that is left is anger and bitterness, and that's it. Maybe I need some support, not just 'here, go fix it'." Charlie said, because that was what he felt like she was saying, now that he understood her point better--even if he didn't think that was what she said before. But he also didn't think she changed her story, it was probably more poor word choices. "I love you too, I just...maybe the guy you seem to be looking for ain't here anymore. And I'm sorry about that."

Madeline looked at him, blue eyes damp and she came over and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his. “You know me. I like to try fix things, especially when it comes to people I care about.” She squeezed him a little and bent her head to kiss his cheek. “You’re always going to be Charlie,” she told him. “He’s in there because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be sitting in this crap hole eating badly made oatmeal. That’s the Charlie I know.” She was glad he listened and he was right, she was a bit pushy on the move on and fix it. She didn’t mean to be, she just hated seeing him continue to hurt. Her word choices could’ve been better but at least they were eventually understood.

He hugged her in return, keeping her there for a long moment. Madeline sort of represented the only softness left in his life, or that was what it seemed like. He didn't answer her, because he didn't agree. And he just didn't want to argue with her anymore, either. It was exhausting at the best of times, and it wasn't the best of times. So, it left him feeling drained, instead. So he was just going to be quiet, give her a hug, and attempt to hope for the best.