Chapter Text
Warnings: References to a previous abusive relationship, domestic violence (mostly off screen) and the ensuing trauma. Other warnings as subject matters present themselves.
Introduction
Charles yawned. Driving a strange vehicle all night on little more than coffee and fumes hadn’t been the easiest or most restful of activities, even if it brought Charles and his son to their new home in time to spend the day moving in. He was exhausted, and there was a demanding day ahead.
Charles looked over at David. He felt a rush of familiar wonder and tenderness at the sight of his child’s face, even sticky and marked with the remnants of his supper from the night before. At least it was only dirt. Dirt washed away. Bruises and bad memories didn’t.
David was still asleep. Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he brought the moving van to a gentle stop, and the child didn’t wake. If he could just get a chance to look round the house, maybe start a list of what was needed, before David woke up, then he could get going on moving in much more easily.
Not that he had a huge amount to unload. Very little in the way of furniture or crockery had managed to make it onto the van. Charles hoped there was a mall somewhere nearby. He wondered if he dared hope for an IKEA. He’d have to ask someone, someone who seemed safe, later.
They’d had to leave so much behind; in the rush to get away safely. Still, over the weeks before he put his daring plan into action, Charles had managed to keep most of David’s things packed away at work; and his work office had held most of his precious books, so they were not completely bereft.
The realtor had promised the kitchen would be useable, and he’d done a deal with the previous owner which led to Charles paying a little extra and keeping some of the furniture they hadn’t wanted. Charles was under no illusion as to what the quality of this stuff was likely to be, but he hoped it would be enough to be going on with.
Charles flicked a glance up and down the street. He spotted several strangers, but forced himself to relax. Everyone would be a stranger here at first. That was the whole point of moving, after all. Charles hoped they could get away from his past, before it hurt David any further. He rubbed his black eye very gently, and did not think of Jason.
Charles ticked off the people he saw out on the street, cautiously. Newspaper boy; car, car, girl dog walker, and one other man; doing something oily to a car. The strange man was tall, and lean, and his shoulders looked muscular, but at this distance, Charles felt safe enough to unlock the front door of the house and go in