Work Text:
Charlie had had never really needed to look at the back of Alastor's head for long. If she did, her eyes were drawn elsewhere. His shoulders, his ears, or just how vividly red his longer hair was. Never before had she realized that the different hue extended underneath; sat on his scalp.
Perhaps it was rude to stare, but maybe he didn't know. Alastor was minding his own business--reading a book. She could see the frames of his reading glasses from the side almost, but then golden pools were back on the perfect peak of his short hair under the cut. Her fingers twitched with an odd sense of familiarity out of no where. Dark lips separated with surprise, brows shot up. Weird things like that kept happening.
Even if she was looking at what was in front of her, she could see something else. The same back of the head, just missing the long hair. Deep brown hair, perfectly styled and shaved. Soft. Flesh colored palms ran over the back, tussling hair.
"--elp you, dear?"
Charlie blinked.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
Alastor gave the princess an amused look, taking his glasses off and setting them down on his book.
"I asked if I could help you, dear!"
Charlie took a second before awkwardly laughing before shaking her head. "No, why would you think that?"
"You stared for," Alastor paused to glance at the clock, cheshire grin growing, "about two minutes. Are you feeling unwell?"
The princess shifted on her feet, her left hand twitching once more.
"I'm fine!"
He could see just from the way she was twirling her hair around her right finger that she was lying. And he didn't have to do a thing.
"It's just that-" Charlie started, pursing her lips together. "I keep getting really bad déjà vu randomly." Omitting the fact that more frequently than not, with the deer demon she was talking with, the princess took a seat.
"I keep dreaming about stuff and I guess it's surfacing at the most random moments."
Alastor hummed and stood up from his spot on the opposite couch, not liking the look on Charlie's face.
"Don't look so dreadful now, sweetheart!"
'Don't look so dreadful now, sweetheart!' A man teasingly chastised, offering a gloved hand down to a young blonde.
Charlie clutched at her head, sharp pain behind her eyes. The princess hissed and Alastor nearly drew back. Alas, he stayed, even as the smile threatened to falter for a few long moments. He was observant. It seemed like no matter what he did, the poor heiress would have those… attacks.
Headaches, aversion to him, foods, retreating for hours on end. The grimace on her normally joyous features pained him, as much as it pained him to admit it.
"Charlie?"
Two blinks and she went back to looking at him.
"There I go again!" Charlie laughed sharply, a little too loudly. A forced thing that Alastor nearly despised. He would take a frown over that fakeness on her cheeks. At last she grabbed his hand and stood back up, avoiding his bright gaze.
Alastor hummed and placed his left hand against the small of her back. Charlie jumped away at that, panicked at the pain it had caused. Whenever she had the déjà vu, searing pain always spread across her back until it wasn't there anymore. Not that she would dare to tell anyone, or ask for help. Not even from the family physician. Especially not the family physician.
"I'm sorry!" She apologized. Alastor shook his head and let his hand drop, trying to figure out the cause of her strange behavior.
Little did Charlie know, but when she did certain actions, he could still see her . Shorter, more pink. Curly hair. But their faces, they were the same. Their voices -- nearly a century had passed and Alastor had been left wondering. Along her with proclaimed dreams, it took everything in his senses to not go forth and ask.
It was her pain that kept him from asking. But it got harder the more time they spent together. The more it happened, the further she drew away.
"I'm really sorry that I uh, stared. Earlier. I think that I'm just gonna… go?" Charlie pointed at the stairs, pausing for a beat before sliding past his lanky frame. The blonde turned her head back and went to go speak, only to glance down and go silent. Before Alastor could try to stop her, she was going up the stairs, leaving him with the crackle of the fire filling the room, and the memory of his Charlie.