Shadow.

It's hard to breathe. If he just gets the tie loose he'll be calm. The red tie, straight from the picture. The weight attached to the end is dragging him down. It's pulling the back of his neck, pushing up against his throat and laughing at him from on top of his shirt.

Finally it's off and its left to wilt atop the dresser but still he can feel it, on him, around him a whole damn Legacy taunting him because he's lost it all.

"God." Is all he says, sitting in the chair with his head in his hands like the weak little boy that he really is.

"Well that was embarrassing."

It doesn't shock him now, not the way it did the first few times but he still can't suppress the shudder when he looks up into his Fathers eyes. The cold blue that is somehow even more cutting now than it was before his body was committed to the ground.

He slams his eyes shut. His stomach rolls and his heart falls because this day has been bad enough, he's hungry, he's tired, he wants to drink more scotch than his body can handle before collapsing into bed. Maybe after a long sleep he'll have his wits back so he can decide what to do about Jack and he won't Goddammit he will not think about the look on her face or the sadness in her eyes or the resignation in her bottom lip. She's done. Which is good, he has much more important business to be getting on with. Lots and lots to be getting on with so when he opens his eyes the room will be empty of anyone but himself because even the afterlife must understand that he has too much to do.

Apparently not.

"Expected of course," Bart's voice, measured and emotionless, "but still deeply embarrassing."

He pushes himself out the chair and his muscles are crying out to him that they can't deal with this. They're tired, they're aching and it's cold so please just sit still. But he's thirsty and severe alcohol dependency often beats exhaustion and right now he needs scotch before he takes another beating. "Happy to live up to your expectations."

"How long did you have it? A day? Just another occasion where I hand you everything, laid the world at your feet but still you're unable to accept responsibility. Still too wrapped up in parties and drugs and the love affair with your own ego that instead of using this as a chance to grow, to prove yourself, to become a man you –"

"Yeah Father, I get the idea. I'm a disappointment. Not the first time you've told me. Hardly breaking news."

Two glasses of scotch. One glass just wasn't touching him at all.

Walking away from his Father he stumbles but manages to steady himself before he falls, pointedly ignoring the sardonic chuckle behind him he makes his way towards the bed.

"Your first move as a major shareholder of a billion dollar company was to lose it all," another chuckle, "quite an accomplishment, I must say. Jack surprised me though. To be honest I didn't think he had it in him. He was never able to look long-term, look to the future. You and he have that in common. Much more wrapped up in the next high than the next golden handshake."

I'm not listening. I'll get in bed and you'll be gone. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Sleep? You just lost everything, likely for good and you're going to sleep? You think this is how empires are built? How I built myself from nothing? By cuddling up under a blanket and willing the world to go away? Weak."

"I had hope for you, Charles. High hopes." Bart's right next to him again, no longer finding this even darkly humorous, instead the stare of disappointment is boring into him while he unties his shoes and he wants to scream at the injustice of it all. He looked into that particular face more times than he could handle when the old man was alive it doesn't seem fair that he has to continue to look into it now that he's dead. He's sure that part of the joy of being an orphan was no longer running the risk of disappointing your parents. "You could be so much more if you applied yourself. There is a brain in that head somewhere."

He steels himself against his Fathers words and bites back on any response, the same way he has for years and climbs naked into bed. He thinks things will be clearer and easier when he's had some sleep. He can find a way to beat his back-stabbing Uncle as soon as he stops having trouble keeping his eyes open. He can already feel himself start to drift away before his Father speaks again.

"Can you stomach that smell? I wouldn't be able to. I've never understood why so many of them wear such cheap perfume, it's not like they don't get paid enough, is it? I'm sure Jack paid top dollar for them considering how imperative it was to keep you occupied all night, but still the smell of working girl is surrounding you like –"

"Enough!" Chuck rips the sheets back because now he can smell it as well. The headache, the screaming muscles, they'll have to wait because he has to shower. Now. He has too. It's horrible and dirty. He's dirty and he can't stand it.

He turns a few knobs in the shower not even waiting for the water to get hot before he stands underneath the spray. He shivers and his teeth start the chatter before finally the flow turns warm, washing away the sins of a misspent night.

But again Bart needs the last word. So standing before the sink, holding the pink peonies Chuck knows that he left on the elevator floor where they fell, his Father picks at a few of the petals. "You didn't think these would hide the stench did you Charles? She can see the stains on you from a mile away." Their eyes meet a last time, "Everybody can."

His legs finally give out, the muscles unable to take anymore, so he sits under the water and he's alone again.

This is the first in a series of one-shots about Chuck and Bart. I totally loved the last ep of GG and love the idea that it wasn't a new thing and Chuck had been imagining conversations with his dad pretty much since he died. The next one is half written so should be up in a few days. Thanks.