Chapter Text
Charles loved Edwin for all his quirks. Some people- mainly Crystal- didn’t really understand Edwin’s order of operations.
At least, not initially anyway.
Everything had its place. His magnifying glass always sat on top of their most recent case files at the end of the day, and said files were sorted into folders under names and monikers only Edwin and Charles seemed to understand. That was one of the many things they shared- the mental catalogue of their cases that signified their bond.
Neither of them could really feel of course, but sound still ran through their ghostly particles the same as any of it did during their lifetimes. Perhaps that was why, when Charles decided to blow off steam after a particularly long case- the kind that made him long for a deep sleep that seemed so foreign to him now as a ghost- he always found comfort in returning to Edwin, and the sound of him sitting there and flitting through pages just as he was about to walk in.
That’s how Charles knew he was home. That he was home.
—
Something about that routine changed after he’d brought Edwin back from hell.
When Edwin wasn’t working on a case, he was now the one wandering aimlessly through the streets of London. Charles used to wait for him by the door, hoping to hear the sounds of pages flitting just beyond the doorway, but they never came. So he went to Crystal.
He sat next to her on the couch while she fiddled with the remote. Half the fun of watching a movie with Crystal was her indecision- it was almost as if she wore her thoughts on her sleeve, jumping from one movie to the next, unsure of herself. But that’s what Charles liked about her so much.
Crystal put the remote down and turned to Charles. He fidgeted with the buttons on his coat.
“I think he’s got a lot on his mind Charles.”
“Yeah but he’s my best mate Crystal, I just feel like I could do more to-”
“Charles, you rescued Edwin from hell… and wrestled a snake so that her wouldn’t be that bitch’s power battery.”
“But after all that he’s still hurting! Maybe it would be better if I had been there in time, maybe then I could have saved Niko-”
Crystal hurled a pillow at Charles’s face. He smacked it to the ground (although he’s not sure why- its not as if it would have hurt anyway… call it “human instinct”).
“Listen Charles. We all grieve differently. I think Edwin just needs some time to himself to figure out what he needs…especially after Niko. He’s literally been through hell and back, I think we should give him that much.”
“You’re probably right.” Charles sighed, sinking into the couch.
Crystal picked up the remote. “So, have you decided what you wanna watch?”
“What I want to watch? Mate I thought that was your job to decide!”
The two chuckled to themselves, finding a small moment of normalcy within their lives. In this moment, Charles almost felt normal.
In this moment, he did not feel like Edwin’s tormentor in rejecting his confession.
–
Edwin felt like he came back from hell wrong. And it wasn’t because his confession to Charles went… in a direction he’d hoped it wouldn’t. To say the least.
Edwin was always the proper one. He was the one who catalogued and horded information like it was a treasure worth guarding with his life (or rather, ghostly form). His books were sorted, his buttons were never undone, and he’d looked as cleanly as the day he’d died.
Although maybe that was a bad turn of phrase.
His new little “outbursts” started small- if he got frustrated, he’d be clenching his fists without really realizing it. His newer case file papers had crumpled edges- mainly because he’d found himself too upset to fix them.
At first, Edwin worried that he was just mad at Charles, but he could never be mad at Charles.
He wasn’t quite sure who (or what) he was mad at. At least, not until Niko died.
He remembered staring into the mirror, alone one night as Charles helped Crystal pack just days after Niko’s death. He imagined what he'd looked like, his uneven pant-legs. The bags under his eyes (he didn’t know he could get those). His fists clenched tightly. He was absolutely helpless- helpless to save himself from hell a second time, from the witch’s torment, he couldn’t even save Niko. Sweet, brave Niko.
Charles knew rage, but in this moment Edwin was consumed by it.
Edwin’s eyes pooled with an eerie black - something akin to the void he’d imagined when ghosts were utterly destroyed -no afterlife or future.
He should have been scared, part of him was, but part of him found comfort in the dark. After all, absolute nothingness may be better than his pain, his anguish. It enveloped him.
He smashed the mirror without a second thought.