#everything was going fine until i reached the hair....rip in peace here lies april

[sprnklersplashes]

Truth Of His Dreams (6/?)

AO3

As it turns out, making their own way across a continent is significantly easier said than done. They agree to save what money they have from the diamond for food and accommodation in London, which means they live and eat simply, to put it mildly, across Europe, sleeping under bridges and in hostels, sharing plates of cheap takeaway under orange street lamps. Charlie never thought he’d miss the orphanage, but at least there he had a roof over his head and a bed-however hard and uncomfortable it was and however thin the sheets were. The others seem more used to their situation, but that doesn’t mean they like it. He knows they all spent varying amounts of weeks on the streets before finding each other.

Still, they adjust.

They take buses across borders, which thankfully don’t check their papers. Despite how tired he is, how much he craves a decent meal, Charlie has to admit, he is in love with Europe. They can walk through towns and cities without looking over their shoulders, they can say whatever they want and not worry about being arrested. They joke about how the Rhodian government would have a fit at the amount of high street shops, towering shining buildings with clothes made by people whose names they can barely pronounce, and decadent restaurants and cafes lining the streets.

Still, it’s not perfect. People sleep rough, like them, asking for change they can’t give, starving while other people don’t finish their meals in restaurants and Charlie can’t help but wonder… was Rhodia like this once? Restaurants and shops asking huge prices while others can’t afford a roof over their heads? Had his family been responsible for it?

It takes them weeks, but they reach Calais. Charlie honestly feels like crying when he sees the sign welcoming them.

They purchase tickets for a ferry to England that day, and decide to celebrate their last night in France with a bottle of whisky, bought by Matteusz, the least likely of all of them to be asked for ID. They end up sitting in an inn next to the harbour, passing the bottle around, Dash sitting quietly in Tanya’s lap.

“To Charlie,” April toasts. “The reason we’re all here.”

“I suppose the next time you drink something it’ll be out of a crystalline champagne glass,” Ram adds, passing him the bottle.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” he reminds them, trying not to gag on the whisky. “We’ve still got to convince the Queen Mother.”

“Speaking of which…” Matteusz says, looking over at Tanya with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, yes, okay,” she says, passing up on the drink. “I think I’ve sorted it. Clara Oswald attends this club, all ex-Rhodian nobles go to it, called Club Gallifrey, every night of the week. All we have to do is meet her out there and….”

“Beg, plead and whine until she gives us an audience?” April suggests. Tanya clicks her fingers in response.

“And if that doesn’t get her…” she turns to Charlie. “You’re our secret weapon. Just go up and give her that big wide-eyed sad orphan face we all love.”

Charlie laughs. Sad, wide-eyed orphan. That sounds like him. It’s who he’s always been, and now he’s days away from potentially finding a family.

He must have shown it on his face, because Matteusz’s hand covers his and Tanya brushes her knuckles against his leg.

“Anyways,” Ram says. “You think that’ll get us in?”

“Hopefully,” she says. Charlie pulls his jacket around himself. Weeks ago he had nothing but a hazy dream, now he’s climbed the ladder all the way to hopefully. It’s a long way to come, with has an equally long way to fall.

He can’t think what he’ll do if he finds himself back where he started.

Since it’s their last night in continental Europe, they decide to go all out and treat themselves to real beds in the inn next to the harbour. Ram points out that they’re nothing compared to what Charlie will be sleeping on once he’s back with his royal grandmother, but he’s just glad to have somewhere to put his head. They get two rooms; girls in one and boys in the other, although Tanya, Matteusz and Charlie are sure that April and Ram will make secret visits to each other’s rooms throughout the night.

He wonders what that’s like as he watches them in the corner, hands entwined and her lags swung over his, laughing softly at something he said. To have a space in someone’s heart. Having someone to laugh at nothing with and break down with the next minute. Someone who says “I’m here” with a mere touch of their hand.

He finds himself looking over at Matteusz, but when he looks back at him he drops his gaze, his cheeks turning pink.

                                                                                               *****

Charlie sits on a wall overlooking the city. It’s quiet, but far form peaceful. Something brews beneath the surface. He feels like the city is a chord wound so tightly it’s about to snap and worst of all he has no idea why. He hears people whisper in the streets but can’t make out what they’re saying. The tension in the air makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The streets are deserted, lights in houses slowly fading to off. Above his head, even the stars seem to dim. He notices that there’s no moon. If it wasn’t for the street lamps, he’d be in near-total darkness. The though makes a pit form in his stomach.

He feels a sharp tug on his leg and looks down to see a little boy, dark blond hair and big blue eyes, clinging to his leg, looking lost and afraid and oddly familiar. Charlie jumps down from the wall and squats next to him. Up close, he can see how perfect this child is, not a hair out of place, not a blemish on his body.

“Are you okay?” he asks. The boy cocks his head to the side.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he replies instead of giving him an answer.

“Okay.” He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one can listen in and pulls Charlie close to him. He doesn’t know why he checked for passers-by. No one in their right mind would be out at this hour.

“I’m going to die soon,” he whispers. He should look scared, but instead he says it matter-of-factly, even smiling slightly. “Unless somebody saves me.”

What can he say to that?

“Do you have a secret?” the boy asks.

“I don’t know who I am,” Charlie mumbles. The boy shakes his head and giggles. It echoes through the night, the sound rolling along the ground and through the air.

“That’s silly. Everyone knows who they are,” he insists.

Charlie doesn’t remember walking anywhere, but he finds himself crouching in the trees next to the boy. Before them is a huge white building, he can’t even imagine how wide, with sprawling lawns and golden frames in the windows and double oak doors framed with white columns and decorated with golden handles. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, something that doesn’t belong here. It would be beautiful-if it weren’t burning. Black smoke billows out from the windows, staining windowsills and walls grey. A balcony on the third floor is destroyed; half of it lying on the ground.

Even from where they sit, he can hear the sound of people screaming and bullets being fired. So many bullets, overlapping each other, not stopping even once.

The boy doesn’t seem to hear any of it. He sits next to Charlie and watches as the front doors creak open, revealing more smoke and orange flames roaring inside it.

He gets up and runs towards it.

“No!” Charlie gasps, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. “No, you mustn’t, they’ll kill you!” The boy looks at him, frowning in confusion, and looks back at the palace. “They’ll kill you if you go in there!”

“No they won’t,” he assures him with a knowing smile. “Someone’s going to save me.” He wrenches his arm free of Charlie and runs towards the building. Charlie can’t move as he watches the boy running through the doors, disappearing into the black smoke.

Then a gunshot rings out.

“No!” he screams. He throws himself forward and runs to follow him, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He stumbles over the threshold and for a moment, there’s nothing. Just blackness as smoke fills his lungs and he feels certain he’s about to die.

Amazingly, the smoke clears just enough for him to see what’s in front of him; a man all in black, his clothes stained with something he doesn’t want to know, holding a small silver gun in his hands, also stained with red.

A gun pointed directly at him.

He should run. Or beg for his life. Or fight back. But instead all he does is stand there as he steps closer to him.

“For the revolution,” the man whispers.

Charlie doesn’t have time to ask what he means before he pulls the trigger, and a bullet is fired from the gun, and rips through his chest-

                                                                                                               ******

The scream catches in Charlie’s throat as he sits up. He presses his shaking hand against his chest; no bullet wound, heart still beating, lungs still breathing.

He looks around the unfamiliar room for a moment, taking in the brown walls in the low light, the small table, the mirror, the ceiling that seems far too close to his head…

No, not a ceiling. Another bed. The top bunk.

Everything comes back to him; escaping Rhodia, travelling to France, checking into the inn. Matteusz claiming the bunk above his.

That’s real. This is real.

“Mate,” Ram whispers next to him. He sees Ram sitting on the floor, next to his bed, one trouser leg rolled up to reveal his right leg ending at the knee. His fake leg lies at the end of his bed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he lies. He moves to sit on the ground and lean his back against his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Ram answers, shaking his head. “I woke up before you.” He doesn’t need to tell him what woke him. He’s experienced more than a few nights of Ram waking up screaming, reliving the awful events of eight years ago, and some days after that.

Ram’s hand rubs the stump of his leg. Charlie has wondered of course, and had his suspicions, but never outright asked.

“The revolution,” he explains, seeing Charlie’s expression. “I was… I went outside. My dad told me to stay inside but he hadn’t come back. He was out there trying to defend the palace. He was really loyal to the royal family. And he told me he’d be back soon.” In the dim light, Charlie can see Ram’s eyes fill with tears.

“It’s okay,” he tells him, but he’s pretty sure Ram doesn’t hear.

“I went outside to look for him,” he continues. “It was a bloodbath. People were carrying knives and lit torches and firing guns.” He winces and reaches out to the lower leg he no longer has. “I felt something hit me in the leg. I woke up in the hospital later and they told me….” He doesn’t finish and claps his hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie says. “That… that’s awful.”

“That damn revolution did us so much more harm than good,” he says bitterly. “Don’t get me wrong the royals were….” He trails off and looks up at Charlie and smiles shakily. “Sorry mate. Your family after all.”

“Apparently,” he says. They fall silent and Charlie presses his hand at his chest again, making sure it’s still whole. He can still feel the bullet entering his chest. He feels his heart beat against his palm, feels his chest rise and fall and listens to Matteusz’s soft snoring. He smiles, despite everything. He could sleep through anything.

“Hey,” Ram says. “Can I ask you something?” Charlie nods slowly. “Something really messed up must have happened to you to lose your memory like that.” He chuckles. Trust Ram to be so tactful. “Why… Why would you want to remember that?”

Charlie pushes his hair back, pulling it tightly. It seems time to unload everything he’s held in his heart for the past eight years. Hopefully he’ll feel lighter after this.

“Because…” He swallows thickly. “Because all I’ve known is that I was left at the hospital. I don’t know why or who left me there. I don’t know if someone out there loves me and left me there to keep me safe, or if I was left there because they just didn’t care about me anymore.’’ He pulls his knees in tighter, wrapping his arms around himself. Ram winces in sympathy.

‘‘Oh… mate I…’’ He sighs. “I’m sorry. I get it.” They smile at each other and Charlie loosens the grip he has on his legs.

He supposes that if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for in London, he can at least fall back with them. He hopes.

                                                                                                 *****

Matteusz finds there’s something calming in watching the ocean. It goes on forever and mostly beats a gentle rhythm. It looks so pure and beautiful, the whole expanse of water around them the one shade of dark blue, except for the part where the run reflects on the water.

Here on the boat, he feels freedom sink in for the first time. Not total freedom; he still needs money for that. Which he’ll get through lying to an old woman and making her think she’s reunited with what’s left of her family. But now, he feels the freedom of endless places to go and saying whatever he likes and not living with his family’s ghosts hanging over him. Reading real books and magazines and even thinking about having access to the internet.

When they stopped in a small town in Germany, he and Charlie slipped into a library and poured over all the books that wouldn’t have been seen on a shelf in Rhodia, ranging from ancient philosophers to graphic novels. And some things a little more… mature.

He still blushes thinking about it.

Behind him, he hears the rest of his friends giggling and talking quietly, providing a background noise to the sound of the waves beneath him and the peaceful skyline before him. When he turns to look at them, he sees Charlie and April in what he assumes is meant to be a waltz position, but they’re so awkward it’s honestly hard to tell if they’re dancing or if Ram has glued their hands together out of boredom.

Charlie glances at Matteusz sheepishly and huffs an awkward laughs. His cheeks are already turning pink. He and April step stiffly around the floor, April looking at Ram and Charlie looking at… Him.

They’re awful. No one is leading, no offense to April but she has two left feet and whatever beat Tanya is humming they aren’t following.

He has to stop this.

“Here,” he says, motioning for them to fall apart. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” Tanya admits. “If he’s going to dance at a ball, he’s going to need to learn to dance at one.” Matteusz nods. It makes sense, of course. “And I’m too small and Ram doesn’t dance.” Matteusz raises an eyebrow. “Okay, April used to dance when she was little.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Why don’t you let me show you?” This time it’s their turn to raise eyebrows.

“You dance?” Ram asks.

“You don’t know what I do,” he replies. And no, he doesn’t dance, but he’s read books. Jakub used to have a book on every type of dance which he’d read under the covers by torchlight. They nod and April falls back, allowing Matteusz to take her place.

When he steps up to Charlie, Matteusz wonders if the pink on his cheeks has actually spread or if it’s his imagination or a trick of the light.

“So it’s like this,” he explains. “I’ll be the girl-”

That sets the entire group giggling. Among his own laughter and recognition that yes, that probably was not the best way to phrase it, he notices how nice Charlie’s laugh is, it’s soft and bright and his nose crinkles ever so slightly.

“Why is dancing so heterosexual?” Tanya asks, still laughing slightly.

“It’s a mystery,” Matteusz replies.

“Especially since gay people dance better,” Charlie adds. “It’s a fact.”

A weight lifts from Matteusz’s chest, one he didn’t know was there in the first place. The old regime in Rhodia made no secret what they thought of anyone who wasn’t straight. He couldn’t even joke about liking boys (although he couldn’t do that before the revolution with his deeply religious parents) and now he can openly joke about how disgustingly straight ballroom dancing is.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I’ll be the… submissive-no that’s worse.”

“Kinky!” Ram remarks, being rewarded with a punch from April.

“Anyway!” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Now Charlie you put your hand here…” He places Charlie’s hands on his waist. “And I put my hand here…” His hands go on his shoulder and he can’t help smiling. “Hand then we join our hands like this.” When their hands join, Matteusz begins finding it hard to breathe. “Now we dance.” Charlie nods. Matteusz hesitates before starting, counting the beats softly under his breath. Charlie simply follows along with whatever he does and it feels like Matteusz is pulling him along, which is the opposite of what the prince should be like. “Charlie you lead.”

“I don’t know how to,” Charlie protests.

“Yes you do,” Matteusz insists, moving closer to him and lowering his voice so that only Charlie can hear. “You can do this.”

“Really?” Charlie asks. Matteusz nods. Whether he is Charles or not, Matteusz knows he can do this. He’s watched him go from street urchin to faux aristocrat. Charlie nods and takes a deep breath. “I lead.”

They stop mid-step and Charlie starts it again, guiding Matteusz around the deck that serves as their dancefloor. He’s far from an expert, but it’s there; if he didn’t know better he’d think it was ingrained in him from birth. He could fool the Queen Mother. He could fool the whole court. He could almost fool Matteusz himself.

“There you go, you’re doing it,” he tells him. Charlie huffs a laugh.

“I told you gays dance better than straights,” he replies. Matteusz chuckles and while he isn’t totally sure why, pulls Charlie closer.

Dance partners should be close to each other, right?

"I'm getting a bit dizzy," Charlie confesses before stopping and dropping his hands. "Probably all the dancing."

"Yes," Matteusz agrees. Funnily enough, when Charlie lets go of him, he doesn't find it any easier to breathe. Despite how dizzy he feels, he just wants to keep holding him and dancing with him until they get to England.

                                                                                               *****

They dock in Dover just as evening comes in and the horizon turns yellow. Charlie grips his bag tightly to keep his hands from shaking and when his feet hit the ground he thinks how he’s might finally be in the same place as his family. That just a few miles from here might be someone who loves him and wants him.

It’s overwhelming, dizzying. And frankly, a little sickening.

“This is it,” April sighs. They should move along, but they stand on the dock quietly. It’s not ‘it’ yet. ‘It’ is London. But in Dover they’re met with a striking white cliff overlooking the dock and a crisp breeze and green fields in the distance. They’re shooed off the dock but keep making time to take it all in

Train prices turn out to be way above their current budget, and they have to settle for a coach. An overcrowded, small coach with one toilet and hard seats and little to no legroom, which is less of a problem, more of one for them and even more of one for Matteusz, who can’t even tuck his legs on the seat.

He settles for taking over Charlie’s legroom and their legs tangle together and if he should mind, he doesn’t. Possibly because he’s too busy staring out the window with every possible outcome of their adventure racing through his mind while his heart beats frantically and his whole body feels cold and clammy. He could be welcomed with open arms and kissed and given everything he’s ever wanted, showered with jewels and money. Or she could take one look at him and bolt the door in his face.

Or he could be executed. Can she still execute people? Is claiming to be her grandson a crime?

Matteusz shifts in his sleep next to him, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder. Charlie places his hand on his knee and strokes it with his thumb rhythmically. Sitting there with Matteusz next to him and the sinking sun on his face, he feels the adrenaline catch up to him and leave him struggling to keep his own eyes open.

He wakes up to a too-bright light in his face and lifts his hand to block it. He wriggles his heavy limbs and blinks in the artificial light before Matteusz’s arm hits him in the face.

“Sorry,” he says, half giggling.

“That’s okay,” Charlie laughs. He shakes his hands to get some feeling back into them and looks out the window, spatters of light rain on the window and tall black iron street lamps glowing a dull orange and light brown stone buildings which looked 200 years old but housed small shops with bright signs and steel blue light inside. They were so different from the shops back home,  The streets are fairly packed; people in suits and families with young kids and teenagers jog up and down the street, in a hurry to get to work or go home. “Where are we?” He’s sure he already knows.

“London,” Matteusz whispers.

Charlie rests his hand against the window. London. Eight years of dreaming and hoping and wondering and thinking he’d never set foot here and now…

“It’s not what I imagined,” he remarks. “Where’s the big clock, where’s the river?”

“They’re somewhere,” Matteusz assures him. “This is just some bus stop, I guess.” Charlie hums in understanding, continuing to look out the window. “Anyway I think this is a pretty poor part. Your grandmother will be up in the rich part.”

He nods and tries not to think too much about the words “your grandmother”.

#marlie ff #matteusz andrzejewski #charlie smith #class bbc #charlie x matteusz #fic: truth of his dreams