Work Text:
I have a few promises to offer you, the believing is up to you, the proof will emerge, but I cannot say the when. Here is what I have, my sincere offering, scar earned and burned into me:
It’s been months now, but Riley still remembers every detail of their fight like it happened moments previous.
It had started with little snips—from everyone, not just Maya—at Riley's hatred for change. Both Riley and Maya had laughed it off, continued living in their own little bubble, sixteen-and-seventeen years old respectively and not completely out of the haze that was teenage love. But then came the last semester of high school, and then came college applications and college and jobs and—
No-longer-freshly-turned-eighteen Maya Hart was fuming, knocked Lucas clear over in the middle of a second-to-last date at Topanga's and pulled Riley Matthews from her chair by the collar.
"You told me that being influenced to follow rules and study and get good grades was bad," Maya snarled, "and now I'm a fucking mess, and I'm not going to get into any of the colleges I was hoping for, because I half-assed every application I did just to please you. How could you do this to me?"
Riley remembers staring, remembers holding her breath to see the anger and the exhaustion and the sadness weighing on Maya's shoulders. A broken I'm sorry was not going to cut it, she knew even then, but she said it anyway, and with her apology-that-wasn't-enough, Maya deflated completely, a strangled sob escaping her lips.
It was an hour later that Josh found them, his eyes wild—his only excuse to Riley’s wide-eyed stare later on is that Maya had flipped out, and he hadn’t known where his niece was and he’d run to the Matthews’, then Minkus’, then Harts’ before realizing that she was at Topanga’s. (The truth is he’d known—the truth is he’d had to let it happen and sit in wait until he couldn’t stay still any longer.)
Riley had looked up at her uncle when she noticed him, had stared for a long time, before saying quietly, "It's all my fault."
Josh had shaken his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead like he’d used to when they were little; it’s a foreign comfort now. "You're not strong enough to carry that weight alone, Riles," he'd brushed the pad of his thumb over a cool tear sliding down Maya's cheek, "And neither is she."
Riley had frowned, made a jibe about how awkward Thanksgiving was going to be now, and applied to the University of California Los Angeles two weeks later.
➳
A young man with long dark hair and a sly grin waves at her from a Starbucks booth, mouths her name, and Riley makes a face at him, turns on her heel and walks straight out of the café.
Long Haired Stranger catches up to her two blocks down, panting and saying, "Riley. Shit—when did you learn how to run so fast?"
"Language," Riley blurts out before she can stop herself, turning to look at him and realizing that he isn't a stranger at all. "Wait—"
Charlie Gardner straightens up and grins at her, all white teeth and etiquette and newfound California accent. "Charlie Gardner, at your service."
Riley stares, a beam starting to take over her face. "No way. You live here?"
"Well, I mean, my place is pretty far off actually—but it's still in California, so it counts, right?" With her soft laugh his back seems to straighten, and he combs a hand through his hair and smiles softly. "I don't live in LA—my sister's going to, though. I'm meeting her at her dorm this afternoon to help her move some boxes in."
She furrows her eyebrows. "It's eight in the morning, Charlie."
He shrugs, "Staying here for longer makes me appreciate the ocean more. Anyway—" Charlie outstretches a hand, then curls it close to himself and dipping his head in their game of Southern hospitality. "May I walk you to wherever you're going to be staying?"
Riley tilts her head. "I don't think you'd want to get lost on campus with me."
"And if I helped you find your dorm, Miss Matthews?" he asks, hesitant but still more awake and sane-looking than Riley could be in the mornings anymore, and Riley takes a deep breath, bowing her head slightly in a curtsy of a kind.
"That would be much appreciated, Mr. Gardner."
➳
It takes over four hours before they finally find her dorm, and Riley has been arguing that Charlie go find her sister and help her unpack since they began the trip—he'd merely laughed at her and looked back down at his phone to point out a direction or a building. During their search for the right dorm, though, Charlie had regaled tales of his five sisters, including the one he was going to see—the genius-enough-to-graduate-two-years-early space geek, brilliant debator, and overall boss that was Elara Gardner—and Riley was already in love with his family.
(He is a writer, he tells her as they turn a corner somewhere between the first and second time they lose the dorm room key, intends to live out his days with a pen and paper and not a blank page in between, wants to travel the world and write about everyone he sees.
“Like a reporter of sorts?” she asks him, and when he looks at her she can see the pure shine of happiness in his eyes.
“Yeah—but instead of the events, just—writing about people and places and the beauty they carry,” Charlie says, stretching a hand out. “Like, the smell of coffee in the mornings, or the kids down at the beach learning how to play volleyball, or—or—”
“Or the way the sun makes everything in New York turn golden at five o’clock?” Riley suggests, and he beams as he turns to her.
“Exactly!” he exclaims, all the motion in his limbs coming to a standstill.
“What?” she asks after a few moments of silence, and he shakes his head, blinking rapidly.
“—Nothing.” Charlie looks around, taking note of their surroundings, and curses, “We missed the turn on the last corner.”
Riley groans as they backtrack, and that haze of something is broken.)
They stand in front of her door now, exchanging a heavy glance. "This better be it," Riley says as she sticks her key in, hands smudged with dirt (from losing the key the first time) and charcoal-black on the palms (from falling while chasing after said key the second time). They nod at each other, the key turns, and...
The door swings open to a small brunette sitting on the counter, eyes narrow and brown and familiar.
"You're late," she says to Charlie flatly, dropping her phone onto the counter.
Charlie lifts his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "We got lost."
It doesn't take long for Riley put two and two together, and she casts Charlie a frown. "You could have told me that we were roommates so I wouldn't freak out over you being late."
Charlie's sister raises a delicate eyebrow, looks between the two of them, and says, "Riley Matthews?" With Charlie's nod, her lips quirk into an awkward half-smile and she holds out a hand. "Elara Gardner. Has he told you any scary stories about me?"
"Only the best ones," Riley responds in kind, taking the hand and shaking it firmly.
Elara straightens, chin lifting with pride and words dripping with satisfaction as she says, "Good."
➳
Elara and Charlie remind her harshly and quickly that they are not replacements for Maya and Farkle—not that they couldn't live up to it, but that the four of them are always going to be strikingly different from each other, and it's a good change. Riley is not happy with it, she knows, but she sent herself here to embrace that change and she's not giving up so easily just to be able to put people into the boxes in her head.
Yes, Charlie is quirky and loyal and always has a way to make her laugh, but he's also an incredible (and incredibly short) soccer player with an unhealthy obsession with Owl City and a huge family, and could never go a day without mentioning his parents. Yes, Elara is outspoken and creative and brave and smart, but she is also majoring in astrology and minoring in college-grade calculus (both things Maya could never bring herself to focus on) and neither of them hold back in telling Riley when she's screwed up. Which happens pretty often, she's starting to notice.
But despite their not being her New Yorkian best friends, the Gardner siblings she has come to know are some of the best people Riley’s ever known, and she knows they're going to stick around for a while.
"Charlie," Riley asks on Hallowe'en Eve, eating a hard-earned peach ring off of her thumb as they walk along the shore of the rightly-undecorated Balboa Beach, "Do you remember when you had a crush on me in middle school?"
It's a stupid question, she realizes two seconds after she says it, and is rushing to correct herself and tell him to forget it when Charlie laughs.
He looks at her and grins. "I fell in love with you in middle school, I think," he says. "Wasn't just a crush."
Riley presses her lips together, savoring the sweet taste of peach-flavored sugar. "Why?"
Charlie gives her an incredulous look. "What do you mean, why?"
"Well, I—" she hesitates, "I remember being a king of middle school, Charlie, but whenever I look back at school all I remember is me being controlling and really, really self-centered, and I just... what was so great about me, back then? Why did you like me? How could you fall in love with me?"
Charlie tilts his head back, watching the sky as they walk, and says nothing for a while. When Riley looks at him she can see the unnatural bright hue of a blue raspberry lollipop staining his lips and freckles spattered over his skin in the moonlight, his brows furrowed in thought, and she knows whatever girl he seems to be in love with is lucky to have him.
"Same reason I chased after you when you first came to California, I think," he finally says, lowering his gaze from the stars. "I loved you because of everything you were, back then, and because when I was still new—just watching you comforted me, like how I always watch my sisters to make sure that they’re having fun and they’re comfortable. There’s a, um—it’s kind of a long list—"
"I want to know, Charlie.”
Charlie turns his head and looks up at her, eyes dark and contemplating. "Well, for one, no matter how self-centered you could have been, when someone had a problem you always stopped to listen. You got Yogi and Darby together after that terrible breakup, 'member?" He taps a finger to his chin, leaves a sticky spot of melted dark chocolate there and smudges it in an attempt to wipe it off. "And no matter how bad the action you had a good intention behind it. Everyone could understand that. Um... there was also the fact that even though your parents are basically legends at both the schools you went to, and everything could have been handed to you on a silver platter, you would never take it. You'd always work to create your own legacy, you know?"
Riley hums, knowing that he has more but not ready to hear it, and stops walking to think—in the middle of it all, Charlie gently pries her bag of candy from her fingers and drops it to the sand. "Charlie?" she asks again, pulls the remains of her peach ring away from her thumb.
"Yeah, Riles?"
"When did you fall out of love with me?"
She doesn't receive an answer.
Instead, after a moment of frozen uncertainty, he dashes past her towards the water with a breathless "Race ya," and she pretends he didn't hear her at all.
"So what's up with you and Maya?" Charlie asks one breezy day over fresh mugs of apple cider, elbows leaning on the table and eyes focused directly on her. "Lara says you haven't called anyone other than your parents since you settled in. You two were close." His last statement is not a question, but Riley hums an agreement to it anyway as she wraps her cold fingers around her drink for a moment.
"We fought," she says carefully, knowing he's not going to leave it alone but trying to end it there anyway.
"Fought? You two?" Charlie narrows his eyes. "Was it about college?"
"No."
"Varying... interests? Her and your uncle liking each other?"
"No."
"Then what was it about?" he presses, and she can't get the feeling of his gaze off of her no matter how hard she glares at her mug.
Riley forces it out, knows her apple cider is going to be cold by the next time she drinks it. "It was over me being a toxic, self-centered friend who doesn't care about anyone other than myself and don't like change, and how I've been manipulating Maya for... God, for years."
Charlie doesn't respond for so long that she's beginning to contemplate if she should look up when he speaks. "Riley..."
"It's all true, Charlie. I hate change and I'm toxic and arrogant and—and I've been using my best friend in a way that I shouldn't have been, and I'm trying to get better but I just—"
"You're not Atlas, Riley," Charlie cuts her off, pulling her hands from her burning-hot mug and resting them, red palms up, on the table. "You're not meant to shoulder the world alone."
"This isn't the world," she says miserably, letting him run his fingers over the lines and scars of her palms. "They're just my problems. The world is everyone else's problems, too."
Charlie smiles, his thumb pressing—just for a moment—lightly onto her wrist, before he pulls back. "From the years that I've known you, Riley, you've taken on more of other people's burdens than is humanely possible. They're just starting to take them back." He watches her for a moment longer, like he knows the way her skin is tingling and that she can't do anything about it, and she tries to change the subject so he'll just stop looking at her like that.
"Have any suggestions for what to do?" Riley asks, fumbling for words, and he gives her as pitiful a smile he can.
"You try saying sorry?"
Riley snorts, curling one hand into a loose fist she can lean her cheek on. "Yeah, well, an apology may go a long way, but I'd have to go even longer before Maya would ever forgive me."
➳
Charlie Gardner is more of an Atlas than anyone Riley has ever met, and she has never wanted to shoulder someone's burdens more than she does when she sees him stumble over his own.
Despite his visiting the dorm often, she knows he doesn't have a lot of free time—when he stays for the night, Elara's ridiculously loud snores punctuating the silence, she finds herself doing essays and assignments alongside him signing bills and writing letters and emails and too many things she can't name. He's always tired, always working, always drinking coffee (she tells him that this is why he's short, and he always laughs it off), and Riley really doesn't know how he can manage any of it, but he just does—with that ever-bright, ever-cheeky smile of his always there to accompany him.
He and Elara argue often, when they think Riley isn't looking. Over who's going to pay the bills (Charlie always wins) and buy groceries (again, Charlie) and buy the books Elara needs for her upcoming classes (still Charlie). His little sister always ends up smacking him on the shoulder until he relents and lets her buy her own groceries, which results in a lot of cooking disasters and overstocked fridge shelves until Riley goes shopping with her.
("Charlie never lets me handle anything," Elara told her one evening over a Burger King table, after Riley had burnt spaghetti and they'd settled for fast food. "He's always taking care of me and Grams and everyone else—hell, he's even paying for my college tuition—and he won't let us pay him back."
"You're sixteen," Riley had reminded her, dipping a fry into her honey mustard. "Maybe it's just because he thinks you can't handle it yet. You might just need to learn a little more before you can."
Elara had huffed, unwrapped her burger and countered, "Well, how am I supposed to learn if he won't even let me make mistakes?"
Riley had shrugged, and told Elara, "Tell him to give you the freedom to learn, then. Talk to him about it. He's not a completely ignorant big brother, is he?")
It has thus turned out that Charlie Gardner is not an ignorant airhead, but he is overprotective as heck, and he never listens when Riley tells him to stop worrying about Elara and please stop camping out in the hallway, you're going to get kicked in the face from someone tripping over you—at least. He doesn't listen until he actually gets kicked in the face by a total absolute complete stranger who gets slipped a five-dollar bill later in Elara's biology class.
(He complains about being scolded by his grandmother, but he gives Elara her space, and when the burdens on his shoulders seem to lighten a little Riley can't help but grin.)
➳
Riley reads ahead for details about Atlas in the book for the mythology class she's been taking (she's taking a mythology class, college is so cool—), and she thinks she doesn't know too many Atlases. No human could bear the weight of all the world's burdens, she knows. She's definitely tried.
She returns to New York for Thanksgiving and she tries to be good, tries to embrace the change and contemplate the offer of a Christmas celebration at the Gardners' home (Charlie had told Riley it was long past time for her to meet the rest of his family, and the father they only ever mention with shaking hands and pale faces is scheduled to hopefully not arrive on Christmas Eve), but Maya doesn't say a word to her where they would usually spend their days only stopping to take a breath and it's hard.
"I'm trying, Maya, I really am," she pleads after too long without even a small quip from the blonde, "I'm trying to make it up to you, please—"
Maya gives her a long, hard look, squeezes Ava's hand so tightly that her own is bone-white, and says coldly, "You will never make this up to me."
Josh sits in between them on the couch a few minutes of silence later and cracks a joke, blue eyes tired and sleep-ridden, and she catches a glimpse of burdens on his shoulders that he refuses to share the weight of with anyone else. She catches more on Maya's when the little blonde talks to Ava and Doy—the both of them teenagers and being taught by one of the greatest warriors Riley’s ever known—and more still on those of Farkle's when she sees him struggling to even stand up straight and Smackle the only person there to hold him up, and suddenly she realizes the world must be filled with Atlases who think they can singlehandedly carry the weight of worlds.
But she spies shared burdens in her father's arm around her mother's waist, sees them in Katy and Shawn's tangled together limbs on the couch, finds them in glimpses of her grandparents leaning on each other, and remembers that there are some who do not bear that weight alone.
Auggie hugs her tightly before she leaves, and she can see the beginnings of his own burdens starting in the slump of his shoulders as he pulls away. "Are you gonna be here for Christmas?" he asks; it's a simple question, one that she should be able to answer quickly, but.
Riley hesitates, and she sees her little brother's shoulders slump with the weight of something heavier than it should be for someone who's just hit thirteen years old. "Auggie—"
"It's fine," Ava interrupts, taking Auggie's hand and tugging him away. "We'll be right back."
Fifteen minutes later, Auggie comes back wet-faced and flushed from crying, but bravely clutching onto Ava's hand as he holds out a present the size of a shoebox. "You have to FaceTime me when you open it, okay? And only on Christmas. No peeking."
"I swear on Beary the Bear Bear that I won't open it before Christmas," Riley says confidently as she takes the box under her arm, reaching out to pull Auggie into a tight hug and pretend that neither of them are crying. She pulls away and gives him a watery smile, then turns to Ava, who shoulders both her burdens and more than half of Auggie's, and gives her the biggest one-armed hug she can manage. "Thank you for taking care of them," she says, quiet enough that no one around them can hear, and presses a quick kiss to Ava's cheek as she moves on to say her goodbyes to her parents.
Josh offers to walk her to the airport, since they're both stuffed from dinner and need fresh air, and she acts like taking a probably-three-hour walk to a five-a.m. flight alone with her (former? ex-?) best friend's boyfriend isn't the most terrifying thing. But he is gratefully silent nearly the entire way there, neither of them knowing what to say, only speaking idly to grab cups of hot cocoa and coffee at the midpoint.
"What're you gonna do for Christmas if you're not coming here?" Josh asks once they're inside the airport, eyes on the people around them, still towering over her though if only by an inch.
Riley doesn't hesitate, blurting out, "I'll be spending Christmas with the Gardners."
"The Gardners?" Josh turns his head to look at her, interest replacing any surprise in his expression. He's heard of the boy who'd tried to tear Riley and Lucas apart once; it makes her wonder sometimes if he'd have succeeded if she'd known what would happen in Texas. "I thought his mom was still in New York?"
"Yeah, but Charlie and his sisters moved in with their grandma a while ago. You know instead of Tim Hortons they have Starbucks? Like basically on every block, especially in LA. Anyway—we saw each other in a Starbucks, and then we found out his sister's my dorm roommate, and we just kept on meeting too much to not be friends," the story spills out of her before she can stop it, probably aggravated from having not been told even once, "Or something like that."
"Or something like that," Josh echoes, eyes amused and bewildered, and she scrunches her nose up at him, finding quickly that she isn't able to say she's tired of people teasing her over it. "Something like that meaning something other than friends?"
Riley lifts and drops her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe."
Her uncle laughs, and she finds her shoulders finally easing, letting go of a few burdens, as he speaks again, voice warm. "Well, let me know when that changes."
"I will." She falters after speaking and he wraps gentle arms around her, squeezes tightly once before letting go.
"I'm sorry, about—everything that's happened to you," Josh finally says, and she gives him what feels like a genuine smile and feels like she's just been given the go-ahead to start rebuilding herself from all these broken bits and pieces.
"I'm working on it," she responds firmly, and knows it couldn't be more true.
(Still, several flight attendants and the entire rest of the row of passengers on her flight have to come up and ask her if she's alright, and she doesn't know how yes is going to look like a valid answer.)
➳
Charlie picks her up from the airport and even though she knows she still looks like she's been crying for hours, he doesn't say a word about her red eyes or flushed cheeks. Instead, he takes her overnight bag to place it in the trunk of his old-looking Jeep he refuses to name, opens the door for her, and amicably talks about nineteen-year-old Hannah's latest prank on the Gardners that she pulled while she was in Florida, four-year-old Janie's new shoes (and the beach that they went to straight after), seven-year-old Ella's new affinity for finding scraps of fabric and kicking the waves when they knock down her sand forts.
When she tries to say something in response, she realizes that her mouth is too tired to open and that her eyes are rapidly fluttering shut. Charlie reaches a hand over the middle console to take one of hers and lace their fingers gently together with a soft hum of a tune she only faintly recognizes, and she lets herself fall into oblivion in the quiet accompanied by gentle humming and YouTube covers.
Riley wakes to a view of the side of the road and Charlie, curled in on himself, shaking, skin stained purple and blue and dark, dark red.
"Charlie," she breathes out, reaches out for him before pulling her hands back. He's shaking harder than she’s ever seen Maya on her worst nights, his chest heaving—he’s breathing too hard, he isn’t calm, he’s scared. He doesn't reply to anything she tries to say verbally—doesn't seem to even be able to. Riley contemplates, remembers nights spent calming Maya down with gentle touches and orders, and settles herself leaning over the seat. "Hey, Charlie. I'm gonna need you to take my hand, okay? Can you do that?"
He responds this time, one hand slowly leaving the comfort of his curled-in body and reaching, trembling, toward her, and she tries not to fumble. She takes a deep breath, presses her palm against his, and takes his panic head-on.
It is an hour later that Riley pulls into the parking lot of a CVS Pharmacy and breathes out a sigh of relief as Siri announces their arrival. Charlie is silent in the passenger seat, head leaning on the window, but his chest is rising and falling gently with every breath she takes and even if he won't speak she can be happy with just that. She goes in quickly and returns with a giant first-aid kit, tosses it into the backseat and sets a course for her dorm because Charlie’s sisters are a chaos she isn’t ready for.
Elara opens the door with wide and panicked eyes, scanning the hallway before tugging them both in. She runs her gaze over all of Charlie's injuries, lifts his hands in her own and brushes a thumb over his knuckles.
"Shit, Charlie," Elara says, looks up at Riley. "You—were you there?"
"She was asleep," Charlie mumbles, the first words he’s spoken all night. "I didn't want to—she didn't need to see him."
Elara presses her lips into a hard frown and does not say a word until she has opened the first aid kit and found a bowl of water and a clean-ish dishcloth. "Why didn't you give him all of it?"
He snorts, and Riley lets him fall into her side as Elara presses a wet cloth to his wounds. "He was gambling again, Lara. I'm not about to give him money that we need just so he can spend it all not getting a cent."
Elara huffs. "Smart idiot." The siblings exchange grotesque faces; Charlie sticks out his tongue at Elara and winces when she presses too hard on the bleeding scrape on his wrist. "Just close your eyes, Char. You gotta let me help you."
He nods, and they stay silent for a long, long time.
➳
"So," Auggie says over FaceTime, hanging upside-down on his bed with pencil mustache dropping to the ground, "Uncle Josh told me you've been hanging out with Charlie."
Riley looks up from her almost-due essay and squints at her phone screen, trying to ignore the sound of bickering in the kitchen. "How did he even know you knew him?"
Her brother snorts. "Please. Have you ever known me to keep a secret, my darling sister? Anyway—I should've known something was up, he's been so happy since you abandoned me—"
"I did not abandon you—"
"And you seem really happy, too," Auggie finishes, unbothered, and rolls over to grab his pencil from the ground. "Be careful, though, Riley. Charlie's a really, really good guy, and his sisters and grandma are too, but—there are a lot of bad things—happening to them. I don't want you to get hurt." He glances up at the screen through his curls, a flat frown creasing his mouth, and holds up his pinkie. "Promise?"
"I promise I'll be careful," Riley agrees, holding up her own pinkie and crooking it when he does. "Does this push the day that I get to open my present closer?"
"No," Auggie sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head. "Ay-ay-ay, Riley, you're terrible at this."
Riley laughs as she looks back to her laptop and Charlie emerges from the cacophony of noise in the kitchen, waving a dishcloth in front of him to fan away the smoke travelling swiftly through their dorm. He's laughing too, squinting back into the kitchen and calling out an amused, "You okay?"
He receives a bread roll to the nose in response, and Riley snorts as she watches Charlie stick out his tongue at the smoking kitchen.
"You're staring, aren't you," Auggie says from the phone. "Riley, as much as I would love for Charlie to be my brother—hey!" He shouts indignantly, glaring at the gummy bear Riley throws at his forehead.
"Shut up, then," Riley orders him, scrunching up her nose, and pretends when she's said her goodbyes to her little brother that she doesn't catch Charlie's soft, fond kind of smile when she looks up from her laptop. (She hopes he'll pretend he doesn't notice the flush and irresistable grin that takes over her own face—but she knows Charlie Gardner and she knows herself, and she already knows he's glowing from the other side of the dinner table.)
➳
Charlie takes her to the beach on a windy Saturday afternoon, watches her breathe in the fresh ocean air as they cruise past stretches of deep blue and sand that glitters in the sunlight. He’s quiet for the most part, anxiety playing across his features in the rare occasion that she references the night that it had taken a hard effort and several promises with Elara for Riley not to ask about. They spend most of the day running alongside the water, Charlie only explaining afterwards that no matter how hard he's tried, he's never able to get the feeling of crusty sand off his skin, and she remembers in every falter of his stride that he’s not here to play.
Riley finds herself, now, watching the sky turn slowly pink from the cliffside they've managed to climb up, barely eaten Subway sandwiches and bottles of water stored safely in the backpack hanging off of Charlie's shoulders.
Charlie is silent, thoughtful, trying to comprehend or decide something (Riley doesn’t know which), so Riley waits. She sifts sand through her fingers and watches a family of six work on a huge sand fort, looks for shapes in the clouds, and is peering down at a mega-fluffy doggy running on the sand when Charlie finally speaks, back hunched and fists curled up tightly, gaze firmly set on the horizon.
"My dad's an alcoholic." He barrels on without pausing to let her talk, "He lives in a different house than my sisters and I, and he drinks and gambles away all the money that we give him while we're hoping he'll knock some sense into himself and maybe survive another day, but he's never been able to take care of any of the things that he has to do and..."
Charlie releases a harsh sigh after a moment and buries his face in his hands. "He's—there's something wrong with his head, I'm pretty sure, because Mom—she... she has so many scars from living with him and she has to see him every day and I just—"
"You went to pay him after you picked me up," Riley realizes, blinks, and then chokes out after too much silence, "He hurt you."
"Yeah, but I've been dealing—" Charlie stops when Riley wraps her arms around him, and she feels his chest heave several times before he says, his voice softer than she expects, "Thank you."
Riley does not speak for a while, feels tears sting at the back of her eyes as she tells him, "You're not indebted to him, Charlie. You don't owe him anything for what he's done to you."
Charlie scoffs, leans his head back. "He's my dad, Riley,” and she hears his cry for help in those words, his i can’t do this alone anymore in “I can't just leave him to die on the streets."
"Well, you can—you can bring it to court, you can tell the police how he's been hurting you—you and your mom and whoever else, Charlie, and I can call my mom and she'll get him in jail—"
"Riley, I can't—"
"Charlie, you've been taking care of your family all your life," Riley pleads. "Please just let me help you."
He looks at her, then, his eyes dark brown and so, so sad, and seems to empty his lungs of air as he says, voice so light it is nearly stolen on the wind, "Okay."
(Later, Auggie will laughingly tell her she is an idiot, and remind her gently of the promise she's made.
Riley will smile wordlessly, tug her little brother into a hug, and let Topanga wrap her arms around the both of them in the middle of the airport.)
It takes eight months of dealing with anxiety attacks, never-at-the-right-time phone calls, and several breakdowns to put James Gardner behind bars, proven guilty for domestic abuse, illegal drug use, and the smuggling of aforementioned illegal drugs.
Riley does not let herself take a breath until her mother, the woman who pulled so many all-nighters signing papers and looking over documents, who spent nearly a year fighting for the Gardners, drops the guard she has been holding up. She does not drop her own guard until they are out of the courthouse and on the drive back to the Gardners' household, talking future plans and upcoming celebrations. The Gardner girls—now people Riley would protect with her life—all react differently. Hannah cries; Elara lets out a cheer into the night on the walk to the beach with hands clutching onto Janie and Ella's; Grams laughs and smiles and Riley dares to think they're all more happy than they have been in a very long time.
Twelve-year-old Marie tugs Auggie and Ava along the shore, her words spilling out of her as she tells them a story over the crash of the waves, and Riley lets herself smile at the three of them—over the eight months of basically living at the Gardners', the consecutively-born trio have grown into some kind of three-headed friendship and Riley is here for it. She fiddles with the dress she wears—one for battles, one for standing up for people who can't stand up for themselves, Ava had written in the margin of Auggie's lengthy apology about Beary-the-Bear-Bear, and she can feel each painstakingly steady stitch that Ava had spent making it.
Josh and Maya trip over sand alongside them, laughing at each other and sharing secretive smiles; the blonde casts Riley a shy smile that takes a moment to return to her. It has taken two years of separation, of stepping back to see a bigger picture, and a lot of time, but their friendship is being rebuilt—slowly, not hastily all at once, as it had been in the years after Texas.
Riley can feel the golden sun itching to reach her skin this morning, and she knows despite the sunburns and incredible lack of Tim Hortons, this place is home.
Charlie catches her hand before she reaches the water, laces his fingers through hers and tugs them away from the great mass of a group they've become. He does not say a word, but his thumb runs absentmindedly over her knuckles as they walk—she recognizes through the haze of his gentle touch that the path they're taking will lead them the closest to the stars they can get on this stretch of sand.
"You have class at two," is what he says when he speaks, his gaze on their swinging hands.
"I know," she responds, sets her gaze on the sky.
He exhales a soft laugh. "Your mom finally closed the case."
"Yep."
"I don't have to be scared that I'll lose anyone to my dad anymore." Charlie stops, tugs her back, and says, voice strong and joyful and deliberate, "Thank you."
Riley nods, finding her own voice reduced to a whisper when she looks at him. "Of course."
When she is able to speak again, they are climbing, and she adds, "Anything to help out a fellow Atlas."
He grins up at her from the middle of the cliff and Riley fills her lungs with air.
"when you think you can't, you positively can, when you think it's over, it may be beginning. There is always more to find, always something left in you when you would swear on your soul you've been emptied out. Finally, and most exquisitely important, I promise you it's worth it, it is always worth it, every drop of ache and sorrow, every perfect pinch of joy, it is worth it. Promise me you will keep waking up, keep finding it, and finding the strength in you to believe me."