"You've been fighting again," Charlie says when he stumbles through the door past midnight, reproach in her tone and her glare so judgemental that it feels uncomfortably similar to the way Rachel's always looking at him.

But where Rachel's scowl would only make Bass bristle, there's something about Charlie's irritation that hits him harder than the fists of the men outside the bar he goaded into attacking him.

"Sorry, Charlotte, I just—" he begins and falters, unsure how to say 'I don't know how to do this now that the war's over' and 'I've been fighting for so long that I think I've forgotten how to stop'; but maybe she hears it anyway, because her expression softens and she takes a cloth and starts wiping the crusted blood from his face, more gently than he deserves.