Chapter Text
As Edwin comes to consciousness, the first sensation he blearily registers is the intense burning pain of iron bindings. They mercilessly encircle his cramped wrists and ankles, searing his skin harshly as he attempts to readjust his limbs into a more stable position. The room is dark, completely devoid of light, robbing him of his ability to visibly search for an escape. After a few futile minutes of attempting to find a loose rivet or broken lock on his shackles, he deduces that there is no readily available way to free himself. He closes his eyes, attempting to stave off the impending panic, but the encroaching darkness and burning pain surrounding him is suffocating. He struggles to remember something, anything, about the events of the previous twenty four hours.
It takes some effort, but he eventually recalls the memory of Crystal and Charles helping him track down a demon, as had been requested by their new Night Nurse overseer. She had accused the demon of being a notorious hoarder of child souls, the supposed culprit behind dozens of disappearances from the Lost & Found Department’s backlog of missing children. The children that had been found after escaping his clutches had been shells of their former selves, the majority of them unable to communicate what had transpired during their captivity. The Night Nurse had all but ordered the three teenagers to make this case top priority, but in truth, it hadn’t taken much convincing.
The detective trail had been easy enough to follow, leading them to a deserted mausoleum located deep within an overgrown cemetery. There had been little indication that the demon had been in the cemetery recently, but a sparse number of the lost children had been buried there over the years. It seemed a logical place to start, they had all agreed.
Edwin had been interested in searching the cemetery grounds for spectral witnesses, while Crystal and Charles had wanted to search the mausoleum for the missing child spirits. Charles had been hesitant to let Edwin venture off on his own, but both he and Crystal had waved off his concerns. The three had gone their separate ways, and Edwin had walked into the quiet mist, alone. Now he was here, awake, shackled, and still alone.
Edwin closes his eyes, thumping his head softly against the unforgiving wall that currently secures his shackles. His wrists are bound together and pinned to something slightly above his right shoulder, forcing him to sit sideways against the hard surface pressing into his hip. His ankles are also bound and affixed to a spoke in the floor, leaving very little room for movement, forcing him to tuck his knees close to his chest. The room is completely dark and devoid of sound, the only sensation available the searing pain of iron pressing into his semi-corporeal skin.
If Edwin found himself in this situation before the events of Port Townsend had transpired, he is relatively certain that he could have handled it with as much grace as one in his position could muster. His seven decades in Hell had calloused his soul to most forms of torture, each act flaying away more of his humanity and each escape attempt bringing it back stronger. There had been no other choice, back then – he could surrender to the torment, or he could escape. Those were the only options available to him.
Now, he has Charles. Wonderful, brave Charles who constantly follows Edwin where he should not be able to follow. He stupidly, stupidly risked eternal damnation to rescue Edwin’s damaged soul, chipping away at its hardened exterior bit by bit until it left Edwin raw and aching. He had shown Edwin that he would keep him safe no matter the cost, the likes of Death and Hell be damned.
Without the protective barrier around his soul, Edwin is terrified. He feels as though he is a wounded deer caught in a bear trap, simply waiting for the hunter to discover his misfortune. The room is dark enough that he cannot make out a single landmark, the deprivation of all sounds playing tricks on his panicked mind. He swears that he hears distant giggles, the sound of grotesque dolls laughing at his renewed torment, but no creature ever makes an appearance. A hysterical laugh threatens to spill past his own lips, accompanied by a sudden rush of tears. He closes his eyes and wills them away, steeling himself for whatever is to come.
The question is not whether Charles will come; the question is when. Until that question is answered, all Edwin can do is endure.
Edwin loses track of all time, simply drifting in the darkness of his imprisonment. The room remains silent, the only company he can rely on the constant ringing in his ears and the invariable burn of iron around his wrists. After an indistinguishable length of time spent in a state of deprivation and fear, there is a sudden sound of metal squealing and a soft flood of light. Edwin squints at the dim glow, his eyes slowly adjusting as he attempts to take in his surroundings.
It looks as though he is in some kind of stone cellar, the iron chains around his wrists affixed to a metal hoop sticking out of a crumbling cement wall. His eyes fall to the other side of the room, where a dozen or so pairs of iron handcuffs are thrown haphazardly on the cellar floor. His stomach sinks as he realizes that these cuffs likely belonged to the missing child spirits. Edwin’s mind, significantly slowed by fear, distantly realizes that he is also a child spirit. No matter how long he stays in this mortal realm, he will always be a child spirit.
Edwin turns his head towards the light source, identifying it as his most pressing source of danger. In the open doorway stands the outline of a large man, staring at him menacingly. He holds a lit lantern that gives off a gentle glow, and the sight of it causes Edwin to bite his lip, hard . He closes his eyes and focuses on the burst of pain, attempting to control his panicked breaths. The last time he had seen a lantern, Charles had gently cupped his cheeks and taken him away from the place that had tried so hard to strip him of his humanity. The sight of their lantern had filled him with warmth, the knowledge that his partner would always protect him a balm for his tormented soul.
In the light of this lantern’s glow, all Edwin feels is undeniable cold.
The outline of the man slowly walks across the cellar and places the lantern a few feet away, its light not quite reaching the man’s face. His features are obscured by shadows, the long fingers of darkness distorting his face into something unnatural and unrecognizable.
In that moment, Edwin feels what he assumes the other missing spirits must have felt: the unique terror of a defenseless child. He cannot move, he cannot think, he cannot breathe. He stares at the man’s shrouded face, and every fiber in his being is screaming at him to run.
He cannot. So he does not.
“What is your name?” The man asks, crouching down besides Edwin’s crumpled form. His voice is surprisingly gentle, which somehow frightens Edwin even more. Edwin doesn’t answer, refusing to meet the man’s darkened eyes. He suddenly feels very young, and so very trapped.
“I said,” The man repeats, voice morphing into a low snarl. “What is your name?”
He roughly grabs Edwin by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. The man’s features seem to distort and morph, as if they cannot settle on a solid appearance.
“Do not make me ask again,” he warns.
Edwin swallows, bitterly reminded of the vulnerable position that he is currently in.
“Edwin,” he says softly, fighting the instinct to avert his gaze. “My name is Edwin.”
“Edwin,” the man breathes, as if he is testing out the name on his tongue. He caresses Edwin’s cheek for a moment, and Edwin does not dare to move.
“This is your home now, Edwin,” the man says, standing from his crouched position and walking towards the door. "I hope you're comfortable."
After a long glance in Edwin's direction, he picks up the lantern and takes it with him. Edwin shuts his eyes tightly, only to block out the impending darkness that he cannot stop from engulfing him.
Edwin sits in silence for a moment, listening as the man’s footsteps fade into the distance. A cascade of tears begin to roll down his cheeks, dripping onto his iron-burned hands. A wide chasm of helplessness opens within his chest as he realizes that he is truly trapped, and the only sound in the silence of this cellar is the echo of his own sobs.
As Edwin sits in long stretches of painful silence, there is truly no way for him to keep track of time’s passage. The man comes back every now and again, asking him questions in a soft voice. Edwin has learned that if he answers the questions honestly, the man will always leave shortly after. He mournfully considers that he has never been quite so forthcoming in his entire existence, ashamed that the sinking feeling of fear is the only real catalyst for his honesty.
The man asks him questions about his life and his death, listening patiently as Edwin tells his of his past. He asks of Edwin’s afterlife, and of the experiences he had in Hell. Edwin’s heart aches, guilt and shame settling deeply within his chest as he bares his soul to the man. These stories are not ones that he has ever felt comfortable relaying to anyone, including Charles. The idea of this obscured outline of a man knowing his most intimate secrets makes him want to gnaw off his own leg like a desperately trapped wolf.
There is one day that the shadowed man enters, and the room’s energy shifts to something slightly more precarious. Up until now, the man has been an almost passive presence, insisting that Edwin share stories of his past while never doing much more than listening silently. Now he walks into the room with purpose, kneeling closely next to Edwin’s immobile form. The man’s large hand runs though Edwin’s hair, causing Edwin to flinch and attempt to pull away. Between the cement wall he is pressed up against and his iron bindings, there is nowhere for him to go.
The man leans in and captures Edwin’s lips in his, taking Edwin entirely by surprise. His first reaction is a sense of bitter revulsion, and the second is a drowning sense of grief. His first kiss had been stolen by Monty, and he had been cautiously hopeful that his second kiss would hold the significance that his first had so sorely lacked. That dream is snuffed out like a candle, leaving his heart cold and empty on the cellar floor.
The man stays a while longer, sitting far too close for Edwin's comfort, before eventually taking his leave. As the man moves to pick up the lantern, it requires all of Edwin's willpower to keep himself from begging. He is desperately terrified and his ghostly form is somehow freezing, the burns on his wrists feeling as though the wounds have been inflicted by dry ice. His soul is turned out and empty, so desperately lonely that even the presence of this man feels like a lifeline. He is willing to accept just about any company, especially if that company possesses a light or will simply have a conversation with him.
Blessedly, Edwin finds the strength to bite his tongue and keep his pride intact. The man turns away and leaves the cellar, his lantern going with him. Edwin allows himself to float through the swirling darkness, untethered from the frightening reality surrounding him. For the first time since his arrival at this place, he thinks of Charles and Crystal and does not cry. He simply stares into the blackness surrounding him, a vague fuzzy feeling settling in his limbs like a lukewarm blanket.
The man returns again and again, though Edwin cannot say how many times more. He asks his questions, breaking Edwin open one inquiry at a time. The remnants of Hell being forcibly pulled from his memory leaves his soul raw and bloody, each revealed truth peeling off another layer of the defense that he has worked so hard to build. The man continues to invade his space, but to Edwin, none of it is real. Edwin simply... drifts.
Just as Edwin is beginning to believe that this is his new permanent reality, his stupor is partially abated by the sound of distant yelling and the resounding thwack of wood against the cellar door. His mind drips slow as molasses, unable to comprehend the sudden change in atmosphere. The never-ending deprivation of his senses has long since begun playing tricks on his perception of reality, the sound of footsteps and voices a common occurrence as he floats aimlessly outside of himself.
It is not until he feels a solid hand on his shoulder that he lets out a terrified, heart-wrenching whine. He attempts to squirm away from the hand despite having nowhere to go, his scabbed wrists hissing with fresh burns.
“Edwin, Edwin, mate!” a frantic but familiar voice says, the hand instantly moving away from his shoulder. “It’s just me, it’s Charles. I promise I won’t hurt you, I would never.”
Edwin’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the reality of his situation, the lack of light still causing him to doubt his perception.
“Charles?” He asks weakly, his voice breaking. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, mate,” the voice says, achingly tender. “It’s me, I swear. I’m so sorry it took us so long to find you, the bastard had more cloaking spells than Crystal knew what to do with.”
Edwin winces at the mention of passing time.
“How long have I been here?” Edwin asks.
“Just about four days,” Charles replies, his reassuring voice dripping with guilt.
Just like that, all of the resolve that Edwin has been holding onto crumbles into pieces.
“Please,” he says, voice thick with tears and desperation. “Please help me.”
Edwin’s pleas are cut off by a low whine that escapes his throat involuntarily and Charles makes a soothing noise, placing a gentle hand on Edwin’s cheek. Edwin leans into the touch and begins to sob, his cries taking on a hysterical edge. His soul feels tarnished and burned away, and he still can’t see. All he wants is to see his partner, but the lantern that his captor had so often brought is no longer anywhere to be found.
“It’s okay now, love,” Charles reassures him gently, a protective tone creeping around the edge of his voice. “You’re safe, we’re gonna to get you out of here.”
Edwin hears the sound of Charles’ lockpicks working slowly on the cuffs surrounding his wrists, Charles having thankfully become adept at picking locks blindly. The shackles fall off of his wrists, then his ankles, and Edwin is pulled into Charles’ lap immediately. He wraps himself tightly around Charles’ shoulders and buries his face in his neck, hiding from the suffocating darkness of the dingy cellar around them. Four days worth of terror and hopelessness spill out of him in shuddering sobs, while Charles holds him through all of it. His arms are a grounding weight around Edwin’s waist, pulling him as close as possible, murmuring warm reassurances into his weeping partner's hair.
After a long minute of their comforting reunion, the door to the cellar opens with a metallic groan. Edwin’s mind stutters to a halt, clutching onto Charles as tightly as possible, but the obscured man does not stand in the doorway. Instead, there is Crystal, holding the blessed lantern aloft. The light halos her curly hair, and for a moment, Edwin’s mind wanders back to the various Saints he had learned about in Catholic school.
“He’s gone,” she says softly, wiping what looks like blood off of her hands and onto her jeans. “And I swear to Christ, I’m never letting either of you out of my goddamn sight again.”
Edwin looks at her, more than a little awestruck, before burying his face in Charles’ shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, though loud enough for all three of them to hear.
“Both of you.”