nightcrawling. [tag; charlie]

march 2002

NPC; Layla Fitzroy

I see you when the night falls
but never when the light breaks through
there's something in the water
or maybe it's just the way you move.

It had been raining for a fortnight.

London was on the cusp of spring but it didn't feel like it. Puddles in the cracked pavement reflected the watery streetlights as cars trundled up and down, carelessly splashing people hurrying along home. There was a break in the thick clouds that let the chink of moonlight seep through, casting everything below into an odd, ethereal glow.

Layla, however, was not in a rush to return to her abode.

Her slim figure sauntered down the dimly lit streets, the heels of her black boots click-clacking as she went. It wasn't too late, perhaps a smidge after ten. The city itself was starting to wake up around her as she headed towards the leafier suburbs. People were grabbing after work drinks, others spilling out of cinemas and bouncing into neon clubs that played pop and rock and anything in between. Couples on late night dates, girls tripping out of bars and collapsing into fits of the giggles and all sorts in between.

Meandering in the dark wasn't anything new for Layla. Others might like a nice warm drink before bed but for the tall blonde, there was only one thing she was craving. After she'd been shunted forcefully into St. Mungo's, they'd given her a cocktail of things to take; lotions and potions to help clear her head, sleeping pills to help her relax and a diary so she could write down her thoughts. She'd openly scoffed at the Healer because she didn't buy into the namby-pamby branch of medicine but the overriding problem was that she didn't know what she was thinking. Everything was a mess and she didn’t know which way was up. She'd flushed the tablets down the toilet and tossed the journal into a bin.

Layla was growing restless. She'd lied and manipulated the doctors around her, doing as they wanted, figuring it was easier to catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. She played dumb but frustratingly, they saw right through her charade. She'd been held captive for around three weeks before she decided to escape in the dead of night. That had been a few months ago now, before Christmas. Running from the law was one thing but running from a hospital? They'd labelled her a "threat". A threat to what? Some American's dream of happily ever after?

Her footsteps sped up as her stride lengthened, as though the mere thought was making her grow angrier and angrier. How dare they? This was all their fault, the Bakers. Layla assumed they'd gotten spooked and tied the knot as though that would deter her. They'd skipped town, the cowards. They didn't know her. They had no right to make assumptions on her health and her feelings. Charlie hadn't even tried to contact her. He'd said he was sorry, he'd held her but the next thing she knew, she'd woken up in a sterile white room with him nowhere to be found.

He was her everything, her one true reason for living but he'd turned his back on her. Love wasn't meant to be this hard. Layla's pale fingers flicked the collar of her leather jacket up to fend off the faint drizzle still falling through the clouds. Since seeing him, her feelings had shifted. One upon a time, she'd die for Charlie Baker. She'd do it without second guessing. She was fairly sure those feelings were still there but now they were tangled, jumbled up with resentment and pain and shock and jealousy. He said he took it back, all those things he'd said in his home. He'd held her, tightly, like his life depended on it but it wasn't real. As crazy and he thought she was, she'd suddenly had a bit of clarity.

Layla had seen him a few times but she'd never gotten close. She wondered if he'd seen her, too. Flashes of her blonde hair, her cat-like eyes, a whiff of her perfume or her brand of cigarettes. Charlie hadn't learned because he was predictable; always at the same bars, same cafes, he took the same way home. And she followed, every single time.

She didn't know if this was out of addiction or if she was still in love with him, she found it difficult to pull the two apart. He'd hurt her, he'd hurt her so deeply. He'd bundled her off and disappeared, leaving Layla lost and lonely. Oh sure, she'd lied about carrying his baby. Some goody two shoes at the hospital and written and told him all about it. But she still remained a threat, a dark force, an powerful entity lingering on the edge of his sphere. She wanted to make him sorry. She wanted to make him regret ever messing with her feelings, to make her fall for him so hard and then not be there to catch her when she did. She'd been called a fan, a crazed one at that and it annoyed her because she was so much more than that. If Charlie Baker didn't want her then she was going to make him rue the day he was born.

Layla's pace slowed as she neared a café. It was called the Fox & Ivy and it was pretty cute with its tall windows and dark awning and tables and chairs. She stood across the street from it. It stayed open late as it had its liquor licence and it was the group closest to the window she was staring at. The band was there, laughing and joking, perhaps celebrating the start of the UK tour. Layla stayed where she was, her large blue eyes with smudged eyeliner focused on one member in particular; him. It was always him.

She leaned against the lamppost, a lit cigarette between her full lips as she took a drag from it. The florescent light was behind her, casting her shaggy blonde hair into some sort of spectral halo as she didn't blink. He hadn't looked up and she wasn't sure he was going to. He looked so happy and so carefree sitting there with his friends. Layla was conflicted. She wanted to be happy because he was happy but she wasn't sure she could, considering how sad he'd made her. With another drag of her cigarette, she took a side step and out of the light source and into the shadows but she'd lingered a second too long.



@Charlie Baker

It was a Friday night and Banshee had just performed the first official show of their tour. Charlie had been reluctant to go out after the gig with everything that was going on and how fragile his relationship with Kate was right now, but she (as usual) had been right – if they didn’t go with the rest of the group it would cause more problems than it would solve. The compromise was that Kate was with him. Not right this second – she had just gone to the bathroom with Sam’s girlfriend – but she had at least come out with everyone. Usually she was tired and went home alone to wait for him, or, she had done before... before everything had changed. Now they did most things together. More than they had before.

Charlie was sat in a booth, wedged in next to the window, with Sam, Liam, and few other guys from the crew, having a drink before they headed home. He didn’t want to be out late, unusually for him, but he also didn’t want to spoil the party. For the first time in weeks everyone was in a good mood; laughing and having fun – enjoying being around each other without any tension. Tension that, he now realised, had been purely his and Kate’s fault, and they’d selfishly inflicted it upon everyone around them.

As the laughter died down from another of Sam’s jokes, Charlie turned to look out the rain-spattered window with the ghost of a grin on his features. As he distractedly looked up and down the street outside, his tawny gaze cast over a figure standing underneath the halo of a streetlamp across the road before he did a double take, his expression going slack. Charlie’s face went pale and his eyes wide. It couldn’t be her – he was hallucinating... wasn’t he? His eyes narrowed as he squinted through the glass, trying to see through the raindrops blurring his view. His heart was hammering in his chest and something heavy and leaden had dropped in his stomach.

Kate.

He couldn’t let her near Kate. Charlie almost scrambled over Liam in his hurry to get out of the booth, claiming that he needed a smoke and slipping his jacket on quickly. Less than a minute after seeing the spectral figure through the window he was out on the street, hands in his pockets against the light chill and crossing the road to stand beneath the same streetlight he’d spotted her under.

Even though he’d already seen her, or thought he had, when Charlie’s sight adjusted and the blonde stepped just enough out of the shadows for him to see her fully his eyes widened like saucers. The brunette immediately grabbed Layla’s upper arm and pushed her back into the gloom, following her into it. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, not letting go of her.

NPC; Layla Fitzroy

Layla couldn't distinguish which of her emotions were vying for pole position; anger or excitement? Her heart swooped and spluttered, almost as though she was riding on a rollercoaster. She had that delicious warmth that followed the realisation that she wasn't going to fall out of the cart. It tingled up her long legs and the hairs on her the backs of her arms standing to attention. In a way, dating Charlie Baker must be a bit like a fairground ride; full of ups and downs, the occasional vomiting spell and the flimsy excuse of a supporting guide rail.

The pain didn't bother her, in fact, she'd barely registered it. As he shunted her forcefully backwards, Layla followed him as the heels of her boots scraped along the cracked pavement underfoot.

Layla smiled slowly as she tilted her head, her overly bright eyes unfocused and a touch manic. "Hello lover," she purred at him, her smile still firmly in place. Charlie's fingers were digging into her arm, the gentle creaking noise of her leather jacket beneath his fingers sounding as loud as a shotgun in the still night air. Her skin looked pale in the stark edges of the puddle of stark fluorescent lighting. There were black smudges of cheap eyeliner in the sockets of her face, bruises on her knuckles that were fading into a sickly looking yellow colour and chipped dark polish on her short nails.

"Babe, you're breaking your own restraining order," Layla informed Charlie evenly, her smile still firmly in place. She blinked at him. Charlie had always had that artfully dishevelled look about him but even in the dark, she could see signs of stress. They were too far away from the café to be seen but that didn't stop Layla from flicking her eyes over his shoulder casually to peer into the group of people. "How long are you going to pretend I don't exist?" She asked him softly, speaking just above his hissed tones in a weird attempt to establish dominance.

Layla thought he was weak. While she had no idea what went on behind closed doors (much to her chagrin), even a blind person could see the deepening cracks in his crappy excuse of a relationship. They could paper over it as much as they liked but at the end of the day, she was still going to be here. "Things good in paradise?" The tall blonde asked sweetly, batting her long lashes at him. "The missus doing well?" Layla knew Kate's body well, she'd borrowed it for a while. The best things about her being an American was that they were all bad liars as a nation and every little annoyance was written clear on their faces.

How long as he going to be faithful for this time, she wondered? The band was touring and there was a bevy of young, beautiful and fanatical girls at his beck and call. Charlie couldn't resist, he'd proven that time and time again. He either couldn't change or he wouldn't change. It didn't matter how many times his girlfriend took him back. In an odd sort of way, she and Charlie were a lot alike. They both didn't really like authority, they both weren't keen on rules and the idea of marriage scared the shit out of them.

"I'm walking home," she informed Charlie as she attempted to gently pry his fingers off her arm. "Or is that now illegal, too?" Layla asked sarcastically as she rolled her large eyes and took a drag of her cigarette. "All you do is ruin my fun," she sighed heavily and melodramatically as she tilted her head back and looked up at the leaves on a low hanging branch above her head, acting as though his very present was draining her. "Anyone'd think you'd seen a ghost," Layla remarked lightly, her smile appearing once again.

Without waiting for consent, she stepped forward and invaded Charlie's personal space. Layla stepped closer so she stood almost nose-to-nose with him, the ends of her blonde hair catching in the chilly breeze before she offered him a wide grin, her features looking threatening in the odd lighting. "Boo."

“Don’t call me that,” he growled at her, tightening his grasp on her arm. Last time they’d been this close Charlie had been caught off-guard and had been on the defensive. This time, though their little meet cute was still unplanned, he intended to have the upper hand. Literally, it seemed.

He’d been scared that night, but Layla had already done about as much as she could to derail his life. What was there left to be afraid of? Had he been in a more rational headspace, Charlie would know there were far worse things Layla Fitzroy could get up to should she really want to ruin his future. But, as it was, he was too angry to think like that. Charlie was convinced that if Layla hadn’t turned up when she had, and lied to him about his impending fatherhood, he could have kept everything from Kate. He would have fixed up the flat and Kate would be none-the-wiser. The cheating might still be under wraps, well, for the most part anyway. There was still that niggly little infection. But – if that had been the first Kate had known of anything, might they have avoided everything else they’d been through since November?

“I’ll break something else if you don’t leave us alone,” he replied, his voice low and threatening. Up close, she looked less intimidating than he remembered. She was pale, almost a little gaunt, with wild eyes lined in a way that made them seem to bulge out of her head. Or maybe he was just imagining all of that. He’d obviously found her attractive once, he found himself thinking, the memory of a dimly-lit bathroom floating past his eyes before he blinked it away.

“I wish you didn’t exist.” He said nastily, barely loud enough to hear. Even he knew that was harsh, but it seemed necessary to be as blunt as possible with her. He didn’t want to think about the deeper-rooted reasonings behind that desire for her to never have been – he still hadn’t really come to terms with exactly what had happened. He tried to brush it off as the same as sleeping around, but it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t, and so did Kate, but, seemingly, Layla didn’t think what she’d done warranted more than a slap on the wrist, if as much as that.

“It’s none of your business.” Charlie replied despite himself. He didn’t want to have a friendly chat with her. He shouldn’t have even come out here, he should have stayed inside with everyone else – but he was desperate for Kate not to see her. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if he could see his girlfriend through the window; not yet, he still had time.

Charlie’s attention was drawn back to Layla as her fingers touched on his and he flinched his hand back. “You don’t live near here.” He said accusingly, but in truth he had no idea where she lived. He hoped to god that she didn’t – although they weren’t exactly in Charlie’s neighbourhood, he would prefer more than a couple of boroughs distance between himself and the blonde in front of him. Charlie started to turn back towards the cafe, hoping he’d done enough to scare her off at least for tonight—

’All you do is ruin my fun,’

“Your fun?” he spun back around to face her, incredulous. How could she be so twisted? She was acting like nothing had happened, or that he’d been the one in the wrong. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? How much you fucked everything—” he cut short, surprised by her entering his bubble. His eyes widened as she leered at him – there was nothing stopping him from taking a step back but his own mind, he was frozen to the spot. He didn’t flinch, but Charlie was watching her like she might combust right in front of him. Boo. Her little jest snapped him out of whatever it was that had held him still and he reacted by shoving her back, out of his personal space. “You’re a fucking lunatic.”