Paint the town blue

Chapter XLI

Charles's POV

So strange. I've lost track of the time I've been here with Max for a long time, but that's not what worries me. How long have I been here? A week? A month? Two? A year? I have no idea. I'm worried that I don't miss those people who stayed somewhere out there in Monaco. And not only in Monaco. I stopped missing my family, and it's scary. I don't miss my ever-nagging neighbor, the weasel Liam, the joker Logan, the overprotective Frederic. I'm not talking about Alex, because I'm still not used to working with him, because too little time has passed. Maybe I didn't want to get used to Alex, because he essentially took Max's place. Not in the heart, of course, but in the office, which is also a lot.

For some reason, I immediately remembered the articles that I read when I worked with Sebastian on a case involving the abduction of a child from a rich family, where the girl didn't want to return to her home. There was mentioned the Stockholm syndrome in all its glory, and the Lima syndrome. The girl became attached to the kidnapper, and at some point during the interrogation with a psychologist, she even said that the kidnapper was much nicer to her than her parents. The kidnapper, a man in his mid-thirties, told the same story, only from his side. He even seemed to be sorry that he had kidnapped her, and therefore did everything to "make amends" for his guilt. He even wanted to let her go, but the girl didn't want that.

Maybe Max and I have something like this too? I have Stockholm syndrome, because I am emotionally attached to my abductor and, although I understand perfectly well that he is a criminal and has committed many serious crimes, I still try to find excuses for every action he takes. And Max is probably experiencing Lima syndrome – I can see that he feels sorry for me because he caused me both physical and mental pain, and therefore he tries to take care of me, as if making amends. He is ashamed, and when I'm feeling hurt, he feels terribly uncomfortable, because he understands that I feel pain because of the injuries caused by him. But I'm not sure he would be ready to let me go if I asked him to. Yeah, he and I are just ideal material for any psychiatrist's work.

I was lying with my eyes closed on a battered bench near Max's and my shelter and just looking at the sky when all these thoughts began to come crashing down on my head. Why did they start appearing at all? Is it because I haven't taken my pills in a while? Or it has nothing to do with them, and everything is just... the way it should be? This thought makes me both scared and calm at the same time. The terrible calmness is another incomprehensible oxymoron on my part. Esteban would appreciate it.

By the way, Esteban rarely, but still comes to us and tells us about the news from the station. I'm always interested in hearing about the work of my colleagues, but I am only interested in listening. Just listen. But I can't say that I miss any of them.

Valtteri once told me that I think too much and don't let myself live in the moment. I don't let myself relax and enjoy life. Maybe that's what I'm doing now, and that's why all the disturbing thoughts stop tormenting me? All but one. I'm always terribly afraid to imagine what will happen when they find us. I am sure that sooner or later this will happen, because it is impossible to hide forever.

"Charlie, are you asleep?"

I opened my eyes a little when I heard a familiar and beloved voice, and I couldn't help but smile. Max was standing next to a bench with a small wreath of some wildflowers. I took a sitting position, giving some place to Max next to me.

"No, I'm not sleeping. I was just thinking."

"Okay. Here, this is for you."

He carefully placed the wreath on my head and smiled contentedly. Is he so happy about me or his wreath? Anyway, I'm pleased, and I love to see him smile. And if he's smiling because of me, then it's twice as pleasant.