Chapter Text
Carrie isn't waiting exactly, but she's also not surprised to answer the knock on the door of her studio to see no one standing there. She grabs the ballcap she's wearing today and holds it out automatically, lips twitching when it starts to float sideways in front of her. "Hi, Uncle Reggie."
"Hello. Is it me you're looking for?" he sings back at her, and she laughs. She never knows what song he'll come up with next, but that's one of the things she's starting to learn about him: he never does what she expects.
She's definitely not expecting the sound of someone rummaging through her prop trunk, or for the pink feather boa Katie bought her as a joke to start hovering in mid-air.
"That better be Alex," she says finally. "Because pink is so not your color, Luke."
There's a pause, and Reggie when chants "I hate to burst your bubble but triple double trouble, is coming to your town and he's going to make rubble," she can hear the laughter in his voice.
She's about to roll her eyes at him when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and freezes in horror. "No!" she shrieks, lunging for her custom-made Dirty Candi jacket. "Your stupid arms are too big, you'll rip it, Uncle Luke don't you dare!"
There's a brief tug of war before she's able to snatch it up into her arms, glaring at where she assumes he's standing. "Do you have any idea how much these jackets cost to make?" she demands. "You are not wearing my clothes. Find something - " Her sheer pink button up shirt with rhinestone accents lifts up next, and she huffs as it opens briefly before buttoning up again. At least this time it's a costume she's not likely to wear again. The sleeves settle in a way that tells her his hands are probably on his hips now. "You are absolutely ridiculous," she informs him. "I don't know how Julie puts up with you. Don't you know you're an Autumn?"
The sleeves of her shirt shrug. "I have no~ idea, what that means ~"
She rolls her eyes, muttering "Of course you don't." She moves around her shirt and boa to dig into her trunk for one of the notebooks she's been keeping in it for when Uncle Reggie visits. "Why didn't you bring Julie with you?" she asks, searching for a pen. "Wouldn't that make this easier?"
There's a gentle tug at the notebook when she resurfaces, and she glances up as it floats below the feather boa. The boa is roughly at eye level, and she swallows down the sudden urge to lean forward.
The notebook flips around after a few minutes, and she pauses to read Alex's cursive. We didn't think you'd want us to bring Julie. You two don't exactly get along.
She stares at it. For a moment, she almost wants to tell him the truth. Because it's Uncle Alex, and if anyone would -
Well. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway.
"I can tolerate Julie and Flynn for a few hours if it's for the three of you," she says instead.
"There's something sweet, and almost kind. But she was mean - "
"Do not finish that sentence," she snaps, pointing at Reggie. "You're not funny."
There's a pause, and the sound of a very deliberate buh-dum-clap being drummed on someone's thighs.
She glares at Luke.
Her shirt shrugs back at her, wrists up in a 'what can you do?' gesture.
There's a soft tapping noise, and she looks back to find the notebook in front of her again. Ignore them. You said that if we still didn't have an answer after listening to Bobby's your dad's music, to come find you.
Carrie considers. "What did you learn?"
She waits as her clothing shifts around to look at one another. There's some gesturing, and eventually the pen starts moving on the notebook. It seems to keep moving for ages, which, she honestly wasn't sure how right Dad was about them being able to talk to each other through their music, so that's something at least. She's a little surprised when the notebook moves from one of them to another, and how many times it does.
When the pen finally stops, there's a pause before the notebook slowly lowers and presses into her hands. There's something hesitant about it, and she braces herself internally as she looks down.
- He recorded our music, but he tried to do it right
- He cared - ?
- Finished the songs we were working on
- He wanted us to be remembered
- Wasn't close to the band he recorded with
- Didn't record Bright or Unsaid Emily - why?
- You know about us, but no one else does
- Changed My Name Is Luke into a song about unfinished dreams
- He loved Rose. Losing her broke his heart.
The last line is nearly illegible, and would be impossible to read if she hadn't spent years pouring over every word in all the notebooks her dad had kept.
- End of an Era was goodbye
Her fingers trace the words absently, and she closes her eyes. It's more than she'd expected that she would get from them. It's more than most people would hear.
She nods once, lifting her chin. "My full name, is Carrie Alexandra Wilson. I was named for the actress in my uncle's favorite movie series, and the bravest person my dad ever knew. The guitar my dad taught me to play has the initials LMP carved into the headstock. It disappeared from my bedroom about two months ago, and you better be taking good care of it, because that's a family heirloom," she warns, blinking rapidly for a moment as her eyes burn. "My favorite song is In Your Starlight. When I told my dad I wanted to be a musician, he told me the music industry is hell, and don't get into it alone because you need someone to watch your back." Something about how he'd said it had always made her wonder if he was quoting one of them.
The only answer she's ever likely to get is in the way her shirt jerks in place, sleeves fluttering.
She closes her eyes, taking a breath, and refocuses her attention on her shirt. "He's going to try to push you away. It's what he does with everyone when they get too close." Except me, she should say. Not with me, after everything. "I'm telling you, " Begging, she's begging them - "Not to let him."
She clears the lump from her throat. "I don't care what End of an Era says. He's never, ever said goodbye to you. He never will."
How does she explain that the three of them are tied up in her father's career, in the biography that says he has three brothers, the way he hates performing My Name Is Luke but never ever refuses a request for it. That there are entire rooms in this house with random things that she has no reason for why they have them, but that there's a Rush CD he never plays, a battered pride bracelet he sometimes stares at with tears in his eyes, the autographed picture of Dolly Parton addressed to Reggie. How does she tell them that her entire life they've been here, and now they're actually here, and she can't stand the thought of losing them now.
It doesn't even matter if they're Julie's instead of hers. As long as they're here when her dad needs them. As long as they stay.
"We're the only family we ever need," she says finally, ignoring the quiet, fragile way it comes out. A tear slips free, and she brushes it away impatiently.
Pink drifts in front of her eyes.
She blinks, and her feather boa floats over her head, spinning her around gently and wrapping along her arms to cross them in front of her. There's the slightest hint of pressure squeezing it around her, and if she closes her eyes, she can pretend it feels like a hug. And then a familiar voice sings softly, just above her ear. "Don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right."
She scrunches her eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath as Reggie chimes in with "Every word I say is true, this I promise you."
And in perfect, three-part harmony: "I promise you."