Work Text:
Ten years later.
As Nick laid there, on his sun lounger with a palm tree gently swaying in the breeze beside him, he just couldn’t believe his life.
He watched his husband building sandcastles. As per usual Charlie fashion, he built them with such precision and care. Elaborate palaces really as Charlie was always careful that each room he imagined in his palace had a window etched into the side. Daylight for anyone who lived there.
Nick asked him about it once and he just simply replied, “No one deserves to live in darkness.”
And Nick knew he was right.
Sandcastle after sandcastle Charlie built, sometimes he’d build a dragon lurking outside, or sometimes it was more modern and there would be a fence and a moat. He’d spend hours building his castles only for the sea to wash them away over night when he wasn’t there.
Two years they had lived in a tropical paradise. Owning and running a bar on the beach. Charlie’s sandcastles attracted people to their little piece of heaven and Nick never ran out of rum, his cocktails were second to none.
Tao and Elle came to visit and little Hetty, their daughter, doted on Charlie. He was never ashamed of his scars that littered his body and he never shied away from them or covered them up. Confidently walking around topless and in flip flops, his scars were a part of him. They were a reminder of what he had survived, how fucking strong he was and still is and would be again if needed. He was strong for those around him.
Nick witnessed it everyday. He saw it in all the little things Charlie did, like plaiting Hetty’s hair in a ridiculous fashion just to make her smile and laugh, or building a sand horse big enough for her to sit on only for it to collapse as she did so. It made her laugh so he just didn’t care, like letting her bury him in the sand, put seaweed in his hair and run about pretending to be a kraken.
In the quieter moments, Hetty would doodle on his body, drawing a dot to dot between scars and blemishes, making smiley faces and all sorts of different shapes. She never asked what made them, why they were there or said they were weird, disgusting, or freaky. She just accepted they were Charlie. Nothing more, and nothing less. Everytime she drew a new doodle Nick would take a photo and add it to a scrapbook.
In the dying hours of the evenings the light on Charlie’s skin was the most illuminating, the highlights of silver marks made a patchwork of beauty, a web of wonder. Nick took endless photos, black and white sepia photos cataloguing the scars disappearing over time. He often found himself tracing a light finger tip over Charlie’s torso, his legs, his arms, his face. Each time he came across a scar, he lingered and he kissed it and he loved Charlie just that much more. He’d gently run his fingers over the stitch marks on Charlie’s beautiful plump lips, he’d kiss him tenderly, savouring the taste of exotic fruit on his tongue. There was one particular scar when Nick came to it, Charlie rolled his head back and closed his eyes as if remembering. Being transported back to that day.
The knife wound, the messy knife wound that had been made worse and worse by the consistent in and out, in and out of the knife. David’s fingers tearing at the edges, this one was the last of the vivid memories to fade. But fade it did, under Nick's loving gaze and healing touch.
A happiness scrap book that contained pictures of Charlie’s favourite meals. Nick's favourite beaches and photos of them both happy; decorating their first house together, eating pizza on a mattress on the floor because their bed hadn’t been delivered yet. Shopping together, Nick trying on silly hats and Charlie wearing the most garish jewellery. A scrapbook filled with love. Their wedding photos with Tao, Elle, Tara and Darcy, who they had reconnected with once the police investigation came to a close. The horrors of the Hope estate fully realised and all that was Fournier, Nick and Charlie both agreed was to be blamed on David. Nick was just as much a prisoner as Charlie, lied to and manipulated for years.
Their wedding was small and intimate and perfect with a large buffet that fed far more than the six attendees. They held it in an LGBTQ+ refuge and opened it out to the community then went to dance the night away together at home. It was perfect.
But Nick’s most favourite thing to do was watching Charlie laugh, it was in his top three things about Charlie that he absolutely adored.
His top three things that kept him going on the darkest of nights when he had crashing waves of guilt; guilt of the cruelty he had inflicted, a mild sense of guilt over killing his brother, guilt that he had no feelings whatsoever towards his father and guilt that his mother would be so ashamed of him. He felt guilty he could have such a happy life with Charlie, he had bouts of disbelief that he even deserved it. Yet, somehow, Charlie always made him see that yes, he was worthy of happiness and yes, he did deserve it.
In those darkest of times, he thought of Charlie.
Charlie’s genuine happy smile and the dimples that popped into existence.
Charlie’s laugh. The sound was a healing balm over his memories.
And Charlie eating. Since that very first bite of that shitty sandwich, Nick loved watching Charlie eat.
He loved that Charlie didn’t hold back with his love of food. He became such a foodie, researching. and booking them into the swankiest of restaurants insisting now that he could eat food, he would endeavour to eat the best food.
They toured the country booking into B&B’s and sampling the best Michelin starred restaurants England had to offer.
Then they travelled further afield tasting global culinary delights. Except for sushi. Charlie couldn’t abide sushi, but Nick loved that he still tried it, wrinkling his nose as he did his best to swallow the disgusting slimy food down.
Every time they ate out anywhere, they always ordered an extra dessert; it was a dessert for Sarah. It was how Nick always remembered her, always carried her with him. The dessert never got eaten, but they ordered it regardless, something sweet. Sarah always had a sweet tooth and when he was a boy Nick loved baking for her. It had been many many years since he felt the drive to bake, so he compensated by choosing an elaborate pudding instead.
And through travelling and tasting the world was how they found themselves in paradise.
A small island in the Caribbean, experiencing the delights the island had to offer and building their beach bar.
Charlie’s night terrors became fewer. Nick's guilt never disappeared, but faded into a quiet hum at the back of his mind. The only lingering issue was Charlie’s feet, the bones were never quite right, the doctors tried but the way the nail had pierced through had shattered some beyond repair, and so when he had walked too much, they ached and swelled, reminding him of their damage and what they had endured.
Charlie quickly learnt how to avoid this, and with a determination that never ceased to amaze Nick, he carried on. He put one step in front of the other and just carried on. Not letting anything stop him from what he wanted. He went into school and taught music lessons; he was always delighted in learning a new instrument, the steel drums were easily his favourite as he happily played them barefoot on the beach.
Nick too kept himself busy, putting his skills to good use and started to run self defence classes. Teaching local women, children, and men how to block attacks, what to do if they ever found themselves tied up, and how to attack the psyche of their captor. How to disable them by kicking them in the balls or punching them in the throat. The children loved the physical lessons, learning to throw each other around (Safely of course).
Every year, they opened their bar for what they called ‘The Sarah Sundance’ . They invited anyone who wanted to join them for a BBQ on the beach and a bonfire at night. Each year they wrote one thing they refused to think of again and threw it into the fire. Nick knew Sarah would have loved the community coming together and healing together. He also loved the way the flames flickered and illuminated Charlie’s olive skin as he danced, and drank and ate joyfully. They would snuggle together at night by the fire, under the twinkling of the stars, the gentle wash of waves as the moonlight sparkled on the water. They had found peace.
So now, as he relaxed on his day off, basking in the shade (because he learnt very quickly that the tropical sun was not his friend without incredibly strong sun cream), sipping on his rum and Coke, he watched as his husband made another sandcastle. This one resembled Rapunzel castle, tall towers and turrets, the engineering that went into the sculptures was incredible.
He watched the glistening sunshine reflect off the water, he watched the gentle waves break on the sand. He knew, after ten long years, he was truly happy. And he knew there were no limits to his forever with Charlie.