Leaving those few meager things with Charlie, the larger man turned and left him there on his corner, trying to tell himself that he made enough of a difference.  Walking away was never something he had trouble with, and he never looked back.  Until then.<br/><br/>Life carried on for him, which meant he was just as busy as ever.  Travelling was all part of the job, and he often was out of town, across state lines, and even hopping continents to get to the next.  Chicago was still his home city, though, his base of operations, and so he always looked forward to coming home and slipping into warm, familiar surroundings.  Bernard always had the place ready for him, meal prepared, glass of whiskey at the ready, and any news he might have missed out on while he was away.  There was one little piece of information that his butler couldn’t give him, though, and that was how Charlie was doing.  He’d not even mentioned it to the older man, who was the closest thing he had to a friend, and yet he wasn’t sure why that was.<br/><br/>That was why, during the recitation of messages left for him while he was off in Denver, Valentin’s mind began to wander.  How<i>was</i>Charlie?  Did he have food?  Was it getting too cold out?  He’d been on the streets for a long time, sure, but it didn’t look like he’d been doing too well when they’d met.  The most puzzling question Val had to ask himself was why did he care so damned much?  It was his self-appointed job to keep the innocent safe from the evils of demons and the like, but it certainly wasn’t his duty to save every single homeless man and woman on the streets from their own misfortune.  The world was often cruel to those unable to rise.  Why was Charlie any different?  Why<i>should</i>he be?<br/><br/>And yet Val found it hard to eat dinner with the memory of the small man weighing on him.  By the end of it, he’d gathered up some leftovers, some more water, and headed out to see for himself that Charlie was alright.<br/><br/>From then on, Val made it a point to venture out to that part of town where he normally didn’t bother with, just to see Charlie.  He’d bring things to help, all the while having to remind himself that getting too involved was a bad idea.  There were a couple of times he almost offered to take the man home, the need to see to getting him cleaned up, warm, and fed like an itch Val couldn’t quite bring himself to scratch.  Still, he always made his visits brief, always made it home alone.  It was for the best, he always told himself.  He couldn’t afford the distraction.<br/><br/>The weather hadn’t been too terrible that last time he saw Charlie before leaving for the south.  He’d made sure that the young man had what he needed, then left straight from the street corner for the airport.  Val spent five days chasing a particularly nasty demon around Tampa, almost losing it several times.  The final struggle was less than perfect, and he walked away from it with some noticeable scrapes, bruises, and deep scratches.  It wasn’t the first time something had wounded him, though.  Definitely wouldn’t be the last.<br/><br/>It made the journey back home uncomfortable, but worse was the cancellation of his flight.  The storms, they said.  Landing in Chicago was completely out of the question.  Right away he should’ve accepted it, booked a hotel for a couple of days, and laid low to recover.  Instead, Val could only think about what the streets were like.  How was Charlie holding up?  Was he warm enough?  Was the snow getting too high?  Did he even have any food left?  Not knowing was enough to drive him to irritation, and he ended up buying a ticket that would take him as close as he could get to Chicago, which was still all the way down in Indianapolis.  Even then, the flight was delayed for hours, and when he finally touched down in Indy, things looked bleak.  If Chicago was worse than where he was, Charlie must’ve been frozen solid.  But he had already come that far, so Valentin got a rental car at the airport and continued his long, slow journey by road.  Just like in the skies, there were delays, but he was too stubborn to stop.<br/><br/>It wasn’t until around three in the morning that he was pulling up along the same street, everything heavily blanketed in white.  He couldn’t see the little home Charlie had made for himself, not even the outline of it in that white-on-white that he’d expected.  Gathering up the blanket he’d stopped and bought along the way, he stepped out of the car and walked around to investigate further.  At first, Val saw nothing but snow.  Then he saw the faintest little puff of a breath coming from a generous heap against the wall.  He was sure that it was Charlie under there, but where were his things?  It was disturbing, but not as much as the way the tiny voice called out, not even recognizing who he was.<br/><br/>Val continued forward and crouched down next to where Charlie rested, brushing the snow away gently with a leather gloved hand.  Then he was tucking the blanket around the small, frail body and lifting it up with ease.<br/><br/>“Come on,” he whispered, settling Charlie into the passenger seat and buckling him in, blanket and all.  “You’ll be alright.”  Then he was climbing in the other side and turning the heat up for the ride home.  It was a drive he’d grown accustomed to, but with the roads as bad as they were, it still took some time to get there.<br/><br/>By the time they were pulling onto the estate, Val was eager to get his guest out of the clothes that were now undeniably drenched with melted snow.  He scooped him out of the car and headed in, calling out for Bernard to heat up some soup and to bring blankets.  By the time the older gentleman had retrieved said blankets, Val was on the sitting room floor in front of the fireplace, peeling Charlie’s clothes off.<br/><br/>“Master Enache… might I say,” Bernard began in a polite tone and noticeable Edinburgh accent, “that this is—“<br/><br/>“I know, Bernard.  I know.  Thank you for the blankets,” came the huffed response.  “You can leave them there.”  After a moment of the man standing over them, not moving, Val glanced back and raised his eyebrows pointedly.  “The soup, Bernard.  The soup.”  He waited until the butler hurried off to do as he’d asked, then finished undressing the skin and bones body he’d hauled in from the frozen cold before wrapping a blanket around him.  He tossed the wet clothes aside and settled in front of the fire, tucking Charlie against him on his lap.  “There we are.  Feeling a little warmer?”