baby, i'm a lost cause-- charlie cavanaugh

[swing]

[Spring--one year prior]

Kaleidoscope dreams. Bright lights. Dark eyes. Laughter. Alcohol. Heroin. Dawn.

"You are so fucking amazing."

"What are you talking about?"

"That poetry you wrote last night."

"Don't fucking read that crap, you know I was strung out."

"Only on me, baby."

Angelina...Angelina Garvas had a latina lilt and a cinnamon stare. She wore her hair short, and swore at him in spanish.

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?"

"Why don't you?"

Angelina had no family. She had no family because she was made purely of heroin. Her family was in the poppy fields.

"So, who is this woman you're seeing?"

"Why, Marco, so you can take her for yourself?"

"Charlie.."

"Her name is Angelina."

He was a schoolboy all over again. Smiling ear to ear because of a name, because of a face with the name.

"Do this with me, Charlie."

"I...can't."

"Sure you can, it will be our bonding experience, guapo. Por favor?"

He was reluctant, because it reminded him of darker days. Days when he was drawn into this world. Syringes were ready to administer some of Charlie's personal stash. It was uncut, and it was part of a secret. Forearms intertwined and their love was injected--each from a hand not their own. At first, they were both in euphoria, each fawning over the other and completely relaxed, but Angelina fell back.
"Charlie?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I think something's wrong."

[swing]

It was all just a motorcrash replayed in reverse. Stiffening limbs were being scooped up in shaking ones,her head tipped back--nearly limp and it sent dark waves spilling towards the floor.

"Shh."

"Charlie!"

A gasp for air sent limbs into hyper drive her fingers pulled at him (clawed into his soul). Death's breath was spilling out of her lips, and tears were shed from both of their eyes.

"Don't let me..."

"Shh, I'm calling them now.."

"Don't leave me..."

"I won't..."

"Please..."

I'm not here....This isn't happening...I'm not here....I'm not here...

Sirens. Strobe lights of red and blue. Footsteps. Voices. People. Faces. Surgical steel. Mint-green. Everything was moving. Everything had stopped. Black. Out.

There was an angel here, hooked up to IV with tubes in her nose. Her heart rate was noted by the clicks and the blips of noise. There was an angel here, with one hand permanently cemented into his hand. There was an angel here, and he almost killed her. Dark eyes opened--wide like spinning saucer plates.

"I'm so sor-"

"Isabella...."

The gunshot metal of a smooth voice ricocheted off of the walls and pierced through Charlie. A different name, but the face was the same. All those questions that went unanswered were swarming in his head, and then his thoughts stopped.

Angelina was fiction--beautiful fucking fiction. The kind that seemed so real, until you turned the last page. This book ended with Isabella Juarez--blood bound to the devil himself.

[swing]

[March--one year prior.]

He wouldn't see her. No matter the length of taped messages she burned onto his machine, he wouldn't. Marco made a promise--Marco didn't break his promises and Charlie'd done enough damage to her--though killing her would've been easier than breaking her heart.

Rain fell, and slicked the streets in its acidity. Tattered shoes assaulted puddles because they were in his way, and his cigarette wouldn't stay lit. He didn't hear the car stop, he didn't hear his name being called, the rain was drowning them out.

"Charlito."

A nickname that rang with thunder, pausing him dead in his tracks.He didn't turn around--he was slammed around, spine hitting brick forcing a visible wince. Marco's face was contorted with something less human, more feral. It was revenge, and it was an ugly mask to wear.

"Charlito, I want you to remember this.."

Inches from his face, and words were dripping in malice, an instinctive reaction was to push him away, but he was fighting against a tightening grip.

"You're going to beg me to kill you..."

Pain shot through his side, at first it was his mouth that contorted and gaped in shock, but as he was released to sink into a tangle of bones and blood a fist shot forward and caught Marco in the grinning jaw. The initial shellshock was over--Charlie had started this war and he was going to finish it.
Blood was spat towards the ground, the only defining moment between two bodies throwing punches, and meeting the concrete. When the rain stopped there were two sets of sirens.

"Charles Ashton Cavanaugh do you understand the charges against you?"

"Yes, your honor."

One year with a parole opportunity. He traded blood spattered clothing for a faded gray uniform with a McGowan property brand and stitches. He'd broken Marco's bones, but he'd always have a scar.

"What're you in here for?"

It sounded like it came straight from a cheap prison film, for men to watch and idolize being a hard ass.

"Assault. Why?"

"They put you in the wrong place then."

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

" 'Ain't nothin' 'roun' here 'cept rapists."

"Did you rape someone then?"

"Naw."

"Then I guess it's not all rapists, is it?"

"I got sent down here, because this is where they send you when you don't act right."

"Act right?"

"Yeah, they try an' scare you."

"With what? Lead paint?"

The man in the bottom bunk laughed and stood up, shaking his head.

"Naw, wit' the company."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't be so nice to me."

Another smile before he was tossing a hand Charlie's way expecting a reaction but he got none. One bruised eye was too swollen to see him move through his peripheral.

"I'm not the one you need to worry 'bout."

"I'm not worried about you, you would've tried to beat my ass already if you had the intention."

"Who says I don't."

"I do."

"Yeah, and who're you?"

"Charlie."

"Owen, you can shake my hand you know, it's clean."

It wasn't a friendship, it was an understanding of one another. That as long as they were paired together, they might as well pretend to get along. That's at least what went on at first.

"When's your hearin'?"

"Two months."

"Yeah, I've still got five, if I don' fuck it all up."

"Just don't start a fight with anyone and it'll be alright."

"Easy for you to say."

"You seriously listen to what these fuckers say? "

"Can't help it."

"Sure you can, just think about how nice it will be when you're out and they are still sittin' in here trying to intimidate people."

"Yeah, got any fives?"

"Go fish."

[swing]

[September--one year prior]

"You owe me two hundred and fifty bucks, you asshole."

"Better make it two sixty, I'm fuckin' starving."

River had been the only one to come down when he was released-as it had always been. River took care of Charlie, because Charlie took care of River. It was nice to see the lanky boy so healthy, his hair grew back and he'd gained some weight. Remission was a beautiful thing.

"So, anything happen well I was gone?"

"Nothin' really..."

"Well that's good, you look good."

"Damnit, I know I've got nice eyes but you don't need to hit on me."

"You're not my type anyway. So fuckin' moody."

"....Hey, something did happen while you were away."

"Yeah, what?"

"Joselyn came by and left a note for you. She's fuckin' hot man, you didn't tell me you knew any hot chicks."

"Stay away from her."

It wasn't said in a joking manner, he meant it. The woman had hands that ruined everything they touched, and he wouldn't let her ruin him.

"Jesus man, take it easy."

"I'm fucking serious Rebel. Do not go fucking near her."

They'd stopped moving, and Charlie's eyes dead-locked on him. He'd never said his first name before, and regretted it at the wince that River made.

"Alright, alright, Jesus. Here's the goddamned note."

An envelope was given to him, in familiar writing, laced with a familiar perfume was a tear stained letter that read:

"Charlie.

My God Charlie, what have you done? You could've killed Marco, and to be honest, I wouldn't have cared. I'm sorry for everything that's happened between us. I'm sorry for breaking your heart, and I'm sorry for letting him go after you like that. Please forgive me, and give me a call okay? Maybe we can work things out. I love you.

Joselyn.

P.S. I heard you say it once too."

He crumpled the note and left it in the trash. She had no place in his heart, and he had no place in hers. She was desperate because things were shifting, from the moment everyone heard the news that Charlie was back.

"So, where are those waffles anyway, huh?"

[swing]

[Winter--one year prior]

"Hello?"

"If you come near River again, I'll kill you."

"Charli-"

Click.

"It's not that big of a deal, man. He just socked me in the jaw, nothi-"

"I told you not to go near her didn't I?"

"Thomas-"

"Thomas? Fucking Thomas Grey took you there. You're fucking twenty. Jesus Christ-"

"Hey man, it's not a bi-"

"You're going back to California tomorrow."

"I dropped out of school."

"God you're an asshole, let me see your face."

He wasn't jerking his face upward, even though he would've liked to. Instead he was applying a cold pack to a busted lip.

"Did Marco hit you?"

"Yeah. He told me to tell you to quit sending your pushers on his territory."

"He's a fucking delusional prick."

"Charlie, you aren't pushin' are you?"

A steady hand faltered a bit. He just stared at his battered friend a moment.

"I mean, I know you ain't clean. But-"

"No."

He'd never lied to River in his life, but he had no other choice. He couldn't break his heart.

"Good beca-"

The phone interupted his speech pattern, and charlie dropped the ice pack in his hand.

"Hold that."

A skeleton hand reached for the receiver and picked up, while eyes kept watch on his friend.

"Yeah."

"Listen, sorry about tonight I-"

"Don't worry about it, he's fine."

"Is he?"

"Yeah. That all?"

"Well, I have a new order I need you to-"

"Tomorrow."

The phone was hung up and he was moving back towards River who sat confused on his couch.

"What about tomorrow?"

"I'm sending you back to school. If you weren't already hurt, I would fucking hit you myself."

"I'm sorry."

"No yo-"

"That I lied to you about quitting school, I just didn't want to leave."

"Don't tell me you missed me."

He ruffled his hair and placed a grin on his face, before sitting down on the couch next to him.

"You've got a fucking phone card. Use it."

"It's not the same."

"You'd get sick of seein' my face around and you know it."

"It's so damned ugly, I know."

[swing]

[There's no place like the present.]

A studio apartment with a view like Charlie's wasn't wasted on anything. He sat in front of that window for hours on end.

"Jesus man, it's really fucking bright in here in the morning."

River was shielding his eyes with a hand, hair in a disarray of spikes and curls. His other hand was gripping the blanket he'd walked off of the couch with.Lanky frame was tumbling indian style to sit next to his friend who had a pen in his hand, and paper splayed out in front of him.

"Yeah, sorry. I could've closed the blinds but I'm not used to anyone else bein' here you know?"

Charlie stretched before gathering up the papers and setting them in a pile. He tried to act nonchalant about it, and River wasn't paying attention anyway.

"What are those?"

Damnit. River was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and asking his question with groggy tones.
"Just paper. I don't know."

"That, sounds like a load of bullshit to me, Charlie Brown."

River closed his eyes and smiled sleepily. He knew he wasn't going to get the answer he wanted, but he could try!

"Yeah, it is. I'm not going to tell you what they are though, 'cause then you're going to be nosy and try and read them."

"See that right there, is begging for me to attempt it. You should've just told me they were part of some book you were writing. Then I would've waited, because I don't like to read unfinished things."

"It's a book then River."

"Bullshit."

The sun was rising over the city, and it was just a simple pleasure that Charlie would never get sick of. The two of them were sitting on the floor just looking out onto the cityscape painted in oranges and pinks.

"Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?"
"I'm hungry."

"You know where the refrigerator is."

"I want bacon, pancakes, eggs and toast."

"Does this look like a Holiday Inn to you?"

"Well, I am staying here."

"Shut up."

A few more minutes passed before River was finally awake, knees drawn up to his chin. Candy-apple stare was still focused on the window.

"Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"I miss Hammy."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Shellshock russet was rapid fire to arch towards the ceiling as he looked at his friend.

"Hamlet. He's my hamster."

His voice was muffled by knees and a blanket. Charlie just blinked and shook his head.

"A hamster."

Of course, it all made sense now. River was missing his mute rodent friend, this shouldn't have surprised him. Silence passed between the two for a good ten minutes longer.

"Hey, Charlie?"

".... Yeah."

"I'm still hungry."

[swing]

Another morning spent by ink bleeding paper. He'd been kind enough to take his insomniac habits to the roof, because River needed sleep, and he didn't feel like explaining. Sloppy handwriting on a napkin made mention that he was there, in case for some reason, River got scared. This morning he'd written forty two letters, and they all started the same way?

"Joselyn.

God I still write your name the same fucking way. I wish I didn't, I wish the J didn't curl with sincerity. I wish I didn't curl with sincerity, but I do, I still would bend to your every fucking whim and you know it. I can't sleep again, are you suprised? I didn't think you were...

I can still hear your voice, it's ringing in my ears, that honey lilt, the way you faked an accent better than anyone. I'm so fucking pathetic. It's nearly three thirty in the morning and I'm still writing you poetry, still hoping that I could just go back in time and erase ever meeting you, as much as it hurts to write that, I'm serious.

I should've listened to Thomas, anything that looks that beautiful is nothing but poison. Are you happy? Are you happy that I still think about you? That my every waking hour is spent wondering where you are, or who's name you're calling out tonight?

Do you even think about me at all?

You know I think about you. I think about all of the wonderful fabrications you wove to me, I think about how I ate up every single word, because you fed it to me. I think about how your kisses seared my flesh, and how you tainted my veins.

Do you even remember that? Do you remember how you promised yourself you'd leave your mark on me? You fed me from that silver spoon, you turned my world inside out.

I don't blame you. I don't blame you because I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of wounding me that much. I won't give you the satisfaction of feeding me my greatest addiction--something worse than hate. Something, more akin to an emptiness.

I relish in it every day, Jos, I relish in the fact that no matter how much I eat, I am never full. That no matter who's kissing me, she'll always have your face.

Does that make you proud? Are you pleased at what you've turned me into? I'm afraid to touch anyone, afraid that I might burn them, the way you burned me. That silver scars will spell out my name--that I could crush them. All it takes is one word, you know that better than anyone. You sure as hell toss it around enough.

You never loved me Joselyn, you could never love anyone but yourself. I was just stupid enough to think that I had become a part of you.

Always,

Charlie.

He folded the sheet of paper a thousand times before he lit it on fire and threw it off the roof towards the rising sun that hung in the sky like a thorn in his side. He needed a hit, but he needed something that wasn't heroin--he needed love.

[swing]

The phone rang, something it hadn't done in a long time--but there it was, a screeching siren that drew River out of his frosted flakes, and Captain Planet.

"Hello?"

"Charlie?"

"Uhm, no. Charlie's not in right now, but how can I help you?"

River tried his best to sound suave, but the echoing themesong from yet another episode of Captain Planet broke the facade.

"Yeah, could you let me in?"

If River would've known who it was, perhaps he wouldn't have been so willing to offer.

Charlie didn't really have a bad day, work just tired him out. He'd changed out of his brown uniform into something that resembled jeans and a t-shirt, but they were so far faded it was anyone's guess. He turned the lock with his key, and thought he heard voices--one female, and that of River's. He knew who was there, he knew what his eyes weren't prepared for, and the onslaught of fury came in the form of a tight jaw.

But what he saw, he didn't expect in any of the scenarios. Laying on his coffee table, was a mirror with little white lines upon it. The couch was housing River with his knees drawn up under his chin, and Joselyn bent over the table, with a dollar bill poised in place.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

His bag was launched at her but it landed instead against the window, with a resounding thump. Both River and Joselyn jumped from the couch, Joselyn's eyes brimming already with tears, that were fresh to ruin her makeup in the spots it had already missed.

"Charlie...I..."

He stared at her for a long moment, fingers boring themselves into his kitchen counter, he had moved to distance himself from her. To distance himself from the very image he spent his nights sleepless with.
"Hey man, really this is all my faul-"

"Shut the fuck up, Rebel."

His eyes hadn't moved from the porcelain whore who was staining his carpet with saline droplets, he moved to grasp a few crumpled bills from his pocket.

"Go see a movie."

"Charlie, I-"

"Go."

He growled the last part at the boy, who seemed petrified. It was true, this was the first time in his life that he was really afraid of Charlie. Not afraid of how he looked, but afraid of what he would do. He obeyed, snatching the money and mumbling an apology before leaving and slamming the door.

"Charlie..I-"

"Are you fucking insane? Are you mother-fucking insane? What the fuck is this?"

The mirror was picked up and launched against a wall leaving behind the shrapnel of broken glass and powder. She shrieked and sunk to the floor, in a fit of sobs.

"How dare you, Joselyn. How fucking dare you. Come into my house and put your shit in his face, he's fucking dying and you're snorting like it's no big fucking deal."

His body tensed, and it shook with the fury that was slowly boiling his blood.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Obviously someone who came to the wrong person looking for help."

She stood, her last effort at hardening herself was rising and leaving.

"Help? Help?! You want fucking help, and you're shoving drugs in River's face? He's a fuckin' kid!"

She stopped, just inches from his face, staring at him with dark eyes.

"Like you're any fucking better than me Charlie? You're selling to kids his age, don't you dare act like this is all my fault."

"It is your fucking fault when you come into my house and set that shit down. He's not like me, he won't watch you kill yourself. What'd you do hm? Tell him you'd fucking share it with him? Tell him you'd give him a little insight into your world. Did you tell him you'd fuck him too?"

"Charlie stop it!"

Tears that had sobered themselves from her face fell forth again, she was taking a step back.
"You're a fucking whore, Joselyn. That's all you are to me, to anyone. You didn't come here looking for help, you got fucking lonely. Figured I'd be a good sympathy fuck, because you figured I'd be miserable without yo-"

Before he even finished his sentence her hand made contact with his skin, splitting his lip clean open, and she spat at him.

"Don't you ever call me a whore again Charlie. I loved you."

"Did you? Did you love me while you were fucking Marco on my sheets? Or Thomas? Hm? Oh, you didn't think I knew about that did you? Contrary to what you may think, I'm not a moron."

She deserved that, and it stung her straight into her bones, his words nearly made her heart stop beating.
"Fuck you!"

A guttural cry from her lips as she went to hit him again, but both wrists were grasped skeleton hands that had a suprising force behind them, he pushed her back against a wall--his face inches from hers.

"You can fuck with me all you want to, but you don't fucking touch that boy. Do you understand me, I will beat you into unrecognition and leave you praying that I killed you. Now, get the fuck out of my house."

Instead of shoving her anymore than he had, he just...let her go, released her and turned away from her. She wasn't petrified of his words, but the way he'd said them--his voice was strangely calm through out all of it, his fists could never do what his words did to her. No one's could.

"I said, get out."

[swing]

An overcast day was always a good sign that rain would follow soon after. The night sky had opened itself to pour out acid rain upon everyone that braved it. Charlie was bonesoaked and nicotine starved against brick that wasn't his, near an alley. Of all the cliche places to be, he stuck around, leaning like his own little black rain cloud, offering the masses (stragglers and street pawns.) his promise of purity.

Footfalls made him apprehensive, always--that constant fit of paranoia that latched itself onto his back, and wreaked havoc on his nervous system. Muffled voices were the next to catch his attention, the pang of something familiar. Blue eyes darted sidelong around the corner just long enough to catch a glimpse of silver banded fingers.

"Hola Chico."

Ruben's arrogant words were spat at him along with saliva, as he skittered across the pavement.

"Hola, fucker."

Charlie touched fingers to his eyebrow, finding fresh blood, and scrambling to stand. He'd been through this routine a thousand times before, and he had every intention of laying that fucker up in a hospital bed for the next three Christmases. Fast tract motion to lunge at him, before he was rewound with jerky movements pulling him backwards by an unseen force.

"Whassa matter, chico? Do I have something that belongs to you?"

An iron grip was holding the sunken cheeks of a cherub's face--that of River. His mouth was clamped shut, and at his throat lay a blade that glinted of fresh quality.

"Let him go."

Charlie wasn't pleading with him, he was demanding. His heart threatened to splatter against his ribcage as it pounded beneath the surface of thick skin. Fingers twitched as blood boiled.

"I don't think so."

"You aren't thinking, then."

"He doesn't smile enough, chico. Why don't I give him a new grin?"

Blade pricked the flesh of River's throat just long enough to draw blood, a small taste of carmine tainted white skin and gray cotton, as River let out a groan--terrified, that candy-apple gaze was saucer wide and near the brink of tears. Charlie's body tensed at the sight of River's pain.

"Let him go. You made your point."

"Oh Chico, you don't get my point."

"Well what is your fuckin' point then?"

River was thrown into a wall, which resulted in Charlie lunging at Ruben, who in turn sent a fist into his stomach, an elbow into his back, and when Charlie was curled onto the concrete, Ruben sent a foot into his ribs.
"My fuckin' point is, chico. You've been lying to everyone."

He spat at him again, before crossing and picking up River, who now bled from his forehead and and his neck. He was thrown against the wall again, before he met the tawny grip of Marco. Charlie was struggling to get up, and Ruben against sent a fist hurling into his face, knocking his jaw off kilter and busting open his mouth. Charlie staggered back before he was grabbed and shoved against the wall, one of Ruben's hands pinned his own behind his back, and the other was bracing a forearm against his neck, spattering his blood against the brick, his mouth was against his ear.

"See, chico. Your amigo here, is going to learn the truth. That you've been holding out on all the fun."

Charlie struggled to move, but was pinned back against the brick wall. Marco drug River's flailing body by his hair over to Charlie,and searched a pocket for that glorious substance that consumed Charlie's life.

"Do you think he'll like it, Chico? Do you think he'll enjoy it the way you do?"

Marco's voice was piercing his ears, as he doctored a solution for River, before slapping him across the face when he clawed at his hands. While River was recovering from the pain that was inflicted on his face, his arm was grabbed and the syringe was jabbed into his vein, River let out a scream as the mixture was pumped into his veins--liquid fire, the euphoria sent River into the shakes. Charlie fought against Ruben, prying his hands free before his head hit brick first, and pavement second, blacking him out.

"River!"

A cold sweat coated Charlie's skeleton frame as he shot upright. Finding the darkness within to be illuminated by city lights from a bird's eye view.

"River!"

Shouted again, as legs failed and he collided to the ground. River shifted in his slumber on the couch.

"God damnit River, wake the fuck up."

Charlie sprinted from the floor and practically leapt upon River, who was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"What the fuck, Charlie?"

A small child and groggy voice hit Charlie's ears.

"Wake up, we need to talk."

"About what? Why couldn't it wait until the morning?"

"Don't question me, just listen."

[swing]

River came home from another wonderful evening with his newfound girlfriend, Sadie. (She promised to eat his dinner, and never crease his paper hearts.) To find Charlie in the dark for once, cigarette cherry was the only illumination in a fully shaded apartment. River stumbled around for the light switch, but his action was cut short by gravel pitch.

"Don't turn on the light."

"Charlie, what's goin' on?"

"You have to go now, River."

"Go? What are you talking about? You're starting to freak me out, can I please turn on the light?"

"You have to go, River. Do you understand?"

"Charlie..I-"

The light was flicked on by the chair where Charlie sat, with the cigarette held in an ash tray. All of River's things were packed up, labeled and sitting by the mouth of the hallway.

"You have to."

"Why? If this is about that Marco bullsh-"

"No. It isn't. You just have to go, I can't keep you here anymore."

"Why? Last week you were making arrangements for Hamm-"

"Things change."

"Yeah, things do Charlie, but I thought we were closer then this."

"There's a big difference between what you think and what you know."

"I fucking knew it! I knew you weren't fucking clean, is that what you wanted to tell me about the other night?"

It was what Charlie had hardened himself against--River's hurt eyes (that brimmed with Saline at the very thought of leaving.) These weren't his words, they weren't what he meant, but he had to make River understand. Some how, he convinced himself that River would be better off away from everything...He didn't know.

"Yeah, well people don't change, River. You're a nice kid and all but I can't have you around any more fuckin' up business."

"Business? What the hell are you talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, kid. Do you think that someone wants to buy anything I sell when they know what I'm associated with?"

"Oh, and just what the fuck is that."

Charlie closed the gap between the boy who tangled limbs to hug himself, and himself. Jaw wired shut to prevent the apology from coming out, because he could see the pain brewing in that candy-apple stare.

"A cancerous freak boy. Diseased. Do you know how much shit I get because of you?You're a fucking burden."

"Charlie stop it, you're just saying this shit so I'll leave."

"I mean every word."

"Well I'm not leaving. I know you're just full of shit."

"If you won't leave, I'll beat you and drag you out."

"You wouldn't hit me."

Charlie launched into a left hook, but River countered it, and for the first time, he was starting to believe what Charlie said.

"Take it fucking back."

"I can't take back the truth."

"The truth? The truth is Charlie, you'll never be anything more than some fuckin' junkie. If you can't taint your blood with it, you've got to have it pass through your hands. I thought you were better then that, but I guess the wool as finally been lifted."

"You see where your shit is, get out."

"Charlie, I hope that you find some kind of happiness. I hope that you're so fucking happy you forget all about me, because I'll never forget you."

Boxes were kicked as River didn't fight the tears, instead he shoved hands in his pockets and walked towards the door.

"Take your shit, Rebel."

"Keep it as a reminder of my disease."

Charlie didn't want to hurt him, really he didn't want to say those things to the only person who had been there for him, but he couldn't bear the alternative--not having him at all. When River left, without the boxes (That contained letters of apology, letters that he would find some time later, when things had blown over.) Charlie sunk to his knees, and wept.