Okay, so I needed a quick break from Sweet Complications (yes, I'm still working on it). So I decided to write a Charlie/Ann oneshot. At least, it's a oneshot for now. I can write more later, when Sweet Complications is done. Anyway, here's Fading Scars.
Disclaimer: Alright, so I do own AGATB, RB, and TSFT. They're on my bookshelf now. But, I don't own the rights to them. Pity, isn't it?
The seats of the Gaiety theatre are all filled, each with a curious and critical occupant. The quiet hum of voices sends butterflies aflutter in my stomach, and I fear that I might lose my lunch. My fellow actors and actresses seem to be immune to the nerves that plague me, however. They bustle about, rouging their cheeks and fixing their costumes. They've all done this before. I, however, am completely new at this life, the lone amateur in the cast. Not for the first time, I wonder what on earth I'm doing here.
"Positions, everyone!" the composer, Charlie Smalls, stage whispers in his American accent, and my heart does another flip. "The show's about to start! Where's my Maidens?"
My co-stars glide over to him, painted lips smiling coyly. I stay where I am in the unlit area just beyond the curtains, my anxiety keeping my feet glued to the ground. The other girls walk onto the stage with their dance partners, including my own partner, Jonathan.
"Come now, Ann." Charlie whispers into my ear, giving me a gentle push towards the stage. "Your debut beckons."
The irony of his statement strikes me, even through my panic. I'll never have a debut, at least, not the kind my friends have had. With a pang, I realize that I don't know if my friends are even coming tonight. Charlie sees the fear on my face as I peer around the curtain's edge into the audience.
"You'll be fantastic, Ann. I didn't choose you to be a Maiden for nothing!" I can't reply. My lungs don't seem to be working. Instead, I walk numbly onto the stage to join the others.
"Break a leg!" Charlie calls to the cast as a whole when I finally manage to take my position in front of Jonathan, who smiles encouragingly at me. I force myself to breathe.
In what seems like no time, I hear the impresario announcing our performance, and the polite applause of our viewers. My first audience. Before the realization of that can hit, the curtain opens, and the play begins.
At first, my body refuses to move. Jonathan does his best to pry me from my inert position, and after a split second, he succeeds. I move mechanically, eyes wide with fear. At my first line, my mind blanks. Jonathan and the other actors look at me, trying their upmost to telepathically send me my line. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie flashing me a thumbs up. My mind clears, and when I speak, I am the very epitome of my character, Mercy Griffin.
After that, the rest of the first act goes relatively smoothly. Jonathan and I stumble slightly in our first dance, but recover, and one of the actress's voice cracks in the middle of her solo. The audience titters quietly, but the actress, Arianna, keeps singing, her cheeks barely flushed under her layers of makeup. By intermission, every one of the actors on stage has made at least one mistake, though none horrible enough to completely ruin the show.
Second act is, by comparison, quite the dismal affair. Lines are forgotten, dancers collide, and entrances are made at the wrong time. Despite the mistakes, I'm jubilant when we take our final bow, smiling hugely and bending lower than necessary in my excitement. It is a phenomenal feeling to finally bow to a live audience after dreaming of doing this for years. Distantly, I hear my name being called from the seats, and when I look up, it is to see two familiar pairs of eyes, one, a striking green, the other, a frosty gray. My friends, Gemma Doyle and Felicity Worthington. At the sight of them, my heart leaps and my smile grows. Leaving the stage, I wave joyfully at them.
"Simply spectacular, all of you!" Charlie says when we are all clustered backstage. Some of the actors snort disbelievingly. "Alright, there were some rough parts, but it was only the first performance! Things are bound to improve!"
I can't help but feel bolstered by Charlie's enthusiasm. His blue eyes are alight with excitement as he talks animatedly about rehearsals and performances, and I find I can't wait for my next chance to shine.
Several weeks later
Our last performance.
It is a bittersweet moment. We all put our hearts into the show, using every ounce of skill we've acquired. Since the first performance, we've all improved immensely, getting to the point where mistakes are few and far between. I sing for all that I'm worth, and dance with every bit of grace I have. Every move shouts the same thing at me: It's the last time.
Before I know it, we are being called forward for the final bow. My eyes swim with tears I desperately try not to shed. I smile joyfully at my audience, sweeping low into my curtsy and waving coyly. I don't know how I manage to hold back my tears, but I do, until I scurry backstage amid thunderous applause with my fellow actors, my family for these last months. We're all a bit misty-eyed as we say our good-byes, with promises of letters and visits. I hug Jonathan fiercely, sob with Arianna, and exchange one last joke with Quinn, a rather witty stagehand. I save Charlie for last.
"Hello, Ann." Charlie says sadly. He never uses my maiden name, a quality I had found endearingly unconventional. "You were a joy to work with."
"Thank you, Charlie." I answer, my already wet eyes drowning in new tears. "I hope we get a chance to do this again."
"As do I." His voice is so forlorn, as if he's truly sorry to see me go. But I know better than to let my imagination run wild. We may be great friends, but a man like Charlie Smalls would never think anything more of a girl like me.
"Until next time then." I say, smiling miserably and extending my hand to shake.
Charlie takes my hand. But instead of merely shaking it, he lifts it to his lips, kissing it like the proper gentleman. A sob escapes me. Before I realize what I am doing, I throw my arms around Charlie's shoulders in a slightly desperate hug, tears falling down my face. Charlie returns it briefly before I pull away, shocked at my behavior.
"I'm so sorry." I manage to gasp out before running through the emotional cast into my dressing room, where I can shed my tears in peace. Behind me, Charlie stays where I left him, a shocked look on his face.
"Next time." He repeats softly when I am out of sight.
A few days later, I'm riding in a carriage, on my way to Gemma's grandmother's home in London's West End. I fiddle with my gloves, excited and nervous to see my friend again.
"Ann!" I hear Gemma's voice as the carriage pulls up to the house. She runs out to meet me as fast as she can whilst wearing a corset. "Oh, Ann, I've missed you! Merry Maidens was fantastic! It's the talk of London!"
"Thank you." I say quietly, smiling. "I've missed you, too."
"Come inside, then!" Gemma ushers me to the door. "We can catch up in there. Fee's waiting."
Gemma leads me into the parlor. Fee sits on a chair, gazing out at the fashionable side of London through a curtained window. As soon as I walk in the door, she's up and running at me, considerably faster than Gemma had been. When she pulls away from her enthusiastic embrace, I see why. Instead of a skirt and corset, Fee is clad in trousers and a blouse. My eyes widen at her boldness.
"Oh, Ann, you look marvelous!" Fee's voice is just as I remember it: full of life and mischief. "The stage life becomes you, truly."
"You look…marvelous, yourself." I say, still staring at her pants, and Felicity chuckles.
"Yes, they are rather spectacular, aren't they?" Fee fingers the seams of her trousers lovingly. "They certainly grab the attention of a room, at least."
Gemma laughs, but I still feel a bit shocked.
The three of us sit and talk together, drinking tea and telling the stories of our last few months apart. Fee has been in Paris, living among the bohemians and attracting attention for her careless attitude. Judging from the shine in her eyes and the delight in her tale, she's loving the Parisian lifestyle. Gemma quietly tells us about America. I know from the pain in her face that she's not completely whole yet from our last trip into the realms. But as she tells her story, a gentle breeze blows through the room, soft as a whisper, and she smiles dreamily, leaving me and Fee to stare at her in confusion.
Eventually, though, all the tea drinking takes its toll on me, and I venture off in search of the privy, trying to remember Gemma's vague directions. I manage to find it without much difficulty, but when I close the door behind me to leave, Thomas comes around the corner, several thick books tucked under his arms. My breath catches in my throat, scared to face him so soon. And so alone.
"Miss- Miss Bradshaw?" he stammers. "What a…surprise."
"Hello, Mr. Doyle." I say politely, trying to hide my nerves. He's really quite handsome, and it's very distracting. "It's w-wonderful to see you again."
"You as well." His eyes narrow slightly distrustfully. "I hear you are an actress now." There is no ignoring the disdain in his voice. I feel myself shrinking. "How lovely."
"Thank you. I-I rather enjoy the stage life."
"I'm sure you do."
I hear the demeaning undercurrent to his words, even through the polite façade, and my heart falls. This is not the Thomas I had met before: he had been charming, accepting, alluring, even. The man before me was none of those things. He disapproves of me for my profession, one that I truly adore. Charlie's face appears in my mind's eye, but I shake off the image.
"Is something the matter, Miss Bradshaw?" Thomas asks, peering in at me. "You look ill. Are you feeling quite alright?"
"Yes, thank you. I am feeling perfectly fine." My words are flat. The concern in his voice is only a pretense. He couldn't care less.
"Good, then." Thomas continues to look at me. I feel odd under his scrutiny, as if I am a new patient of his. He examines me closely, his eyes taking in as much as possible in a short amount of time. Within seconds, that look becomes another expression I am most familiar with.
Disappointment.
"Well, good day to you, Miss Bradshaw." Thomas says, starting to walk past me. "Enjoy life on the stage." His words are a slap.
"Yes, good day to you, as well." I walk slowly down the hall towards Gemma and Felicity, thinking.
My heart, so nervous before, is quiet now. There is no excitement at having seen Thomas again, no joy at having had his attention, if only for a moment. No, there is only a dull ache, an ache that has been there since I left the cast of The Merry Maidens.
Since I left Charlie.
I try to push this thought out of my mind, but the laughing, friendly image of Charlie Smalls bursts before my eyes. I remember his enthusiasm, his energy. Most of all, I remember his faith in me. Never, no matter how ungraceful I had been, had Charlie shown any disappointment in me. He handled my mistakes with a gap-toothed smile and a tip of the hat, often offering me assistance himself.
I smile to myself. Practices alone with Charlie had been one of the highlights of the play. He was so alive, so caring. He had always had a compliment at the ready, had always made me feel beautiful.
But I'm not. I were beautiful, I wouldn't be living alone in a shabby flat in London. If I were beautiful, I would have theatres begging for me to perform for them, not having to work part-time as a sales clerk at a bookstore for extra money.
If I were beautiful, I wouldn't feel this numb. But it's a familiar feeling, this emptiness. Before Gemma had come along, this had been the only sensation I'd felt. The fading scars on my wrist are like a siren's call. Come on, Ann, you need to feel something…you know you want to…
I remember the first time Charlie had seen those scars. He had looked at me, incredulity in his bright blue eyes.
"What's this, Ann?" he had asked, holding up my wrist. I'd stammered and tried to come up with a plausible answer, but there wasn't one.
"I- I had t-t-to feel so-something" I had cried into my hands. I felt Charlie's arms snake around my trembling shoulders. "It d-doesn't matter, anyway. Who c-cares what ha-happens to m-me?"
"Nonsense, Ann." Charlie's voice had been so soft, so soothing. "Many people care about you. You're a beautiful person."
I remembered how I used to wish for someone to lie to me and say I was beautiful. Something inside me told me he wasn't lying.
"Of c-course you'd say that." The tears hadn't stopped.
"Why shouldn't I?" His voice had dropped to a whisper. "You're stunning, Ann."
The laugh I had let escape me was shaky and weak, but it was a true laugh all the same. For a moment, neither of us had moved. I wasn't too sure I wanted him to. But then he'd pulled away, examining me fondly at an arm's length.
"There, now." He had said, a wide, gap-toothed grin spreading across his face. "Let's get to rehearsing. I want to hear you sing."
And that was that. He never mentioned my scars again. It didn't become the gossip of the theater. No one looked at me any different. Charlie had kept my scars a secret, and that meant more to me than he would ever know.
I pull myself back to the present. There is no point in thinking about Charlie. The play is over, and we've gone our separate ways. My heart sinks as I walk into the parlor, where Gemma and Felicity still sit talking.
Later, I sit alone in my small flat in London, listening to the sounds of the city outside and remembering my reunion with my friends. Inside, everything is still.
A knock on my door echoes through the silence, making me gasp in surprise. I jump up to answer it, wondering who on earth would come to call at this hour. I pull open the door.
"Pardon me, mum," the landlord, Mr. Mills, says. "Bu' oo 'ave a visitor."
"Yes, thank you." I reply, looking over his shoulder at my visitor. He's got a hat pulled down low on his face. Even so, I would recognize him anywhere. Mr. Mills makes his exit, but I stand in my doorframe, too shocked to move. My visitor looks up at me with bright blue eyes under the rim of his hat.
"Hello, Ann." Charlie Smalls says softly in his American accent, removing his cap and smiling his heart melting, gap-toothed smile.
I can't hold myself back. Before either of us know what's happening, I throw myself into his welcoming embrace, grinning like a fool. "Charlie!"
"I've missed you, as well." He laughs, not letting go of my arms, even after we've separated. His hands are soft and warm through my sleeves.
"Oh!" I turn and beckon for to him to follow me. "Come in, please!"
We spend the evening talking about nothing and everything, getting re-acquainted with each other. I find that, even through my shy appearance, I'm smiling more than I have since leaving The Merry Maidens, and my happiness is mirrored in Charlie's face.
"Your apartment is really quite nice, Ann." Charlie remarks as he looks around. "I don't know why you talked it down so much back in Maidens. It must have taken a long time to get it like this."
"Quite." I laugh politely. "I'm still working on getting everything just right."
"Maybe you could use my help." Charlie says shyly, looking intently at my carpet.
I stare at our feet, as well. "Would you mind terribly?"
"Not at all." Charlie's gaze rises shyly back up to my face. "It would mean more time with you."
I turn my head to the window to hide my blush.
"Oh!" I exclaim. "Where has the time gone?"
The scene outside my window is quite different from the last time I looked out it. The sun is no longer out, replaced by a silver moon. The London nightlife is now in full swing, complete with drunken catcalls and bustling people.
"It is late, isn't it?" Charlie stands. "I should be going. I've been here far too long."
"You're always welcome here, Charlie." I demur timidly.
"Thank you." He replies. I rise and lead him to the door. He stands in the frame, smiling at me. "It was great to see you again, Ann. Really. I'm glad I came."
"As am I."
"We should do this again. Soon." I nod earnestly.
Charlie sweeps off his hat in a low, joking bow, blue eyes twinkling, and I giggle. He straightens again. He lowers his face to mine, and brushes his lips against my cheek boldly. My skin burns where his lips touch, and a blush spreads from my head to my toes.
"Goodnight, Ann." He whispers, donning his cap again and striding away. I stand where I am, my hand pressed to my cheek delicately, lips parted in shock. After a moment, I gather my senses and dash inside to my window. Below, Charlie walks cheerfully onto the streets. He glances upward, sees me, and waves. I wave back, and he continues on his way.
"Goodnight, Charlie." I murmur, my breath fogging the window of my apartment.
Done! For now. Thoughts? I rather enjoyed writing about the play. It was fun. Might have to continue this oneshot...after Sweet Comp. is done, though.
Is still swamped with wedding research for Sweet Complications,
'Dreamer (ha, a nickname for my penname. how sad...)