Marked

Disclaimers: These disclaimers apply to every chapter in this story. I do not own Numb3rs or any of the characters, and expect to make no profit from this. I do claim intellectual rights to any original characters and the plot lines associated with them. This story contains brief references to the episodes 'Toxin' and 'Two Daughters'.

The story takes place primarily on the east side of the Los Padres National Forest. I took some liberty with the trails and trailheads, and the river mentioned in the story is fictional. All of the named locations mentioned in the story are real with the exception of the town of Elk Ridge – it is completely fictional, as are all of the characters in the story. Any resemblance to people real or dead is a figment of your imagination.

A caution – there is some gory material in this. It contains whumping – both brothers, physical, emotional and any other way I could conjure up. Many thanks to beta Alice I.

Chapter 1

Charlie pulled into the driveway of his house, turned off the engine, and sat in the darkness for a moment, savoring the quiet and anonymity of the night. He had seen Don's car pulled up out front, and was admittedly procrastinating; he didn't want to face his father or his brother. He was exhausted and empty inside, and trying to act as if nothing was wrong was becoming increasingly difficult. He leaned his head back on the car seat and closed his eyes; momentarily giving up the fight against the sorrow; the feeling of loss, and felt his soul plummet in a masochistic kind of freefall, almost reveling in the pain. After hours of trying to suppress it, each day for the last week or so, it seemed in an odd sort of way something he owed himself. With his head still on the headrest, he opened his eyes, and seeing a movement at the window, he sighed. Pulling himself together with an effort, he opened the car door and stepped out.

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Don peered out through a slit in the drapes. Alan was seated with the paper on his lap, watching his older son. "What's he doing?"

Don frowned, squinting into the darkness. He could see his brother's figure in the front seat of his car. "He's just sitting there."

Alan sighed. "He's been moping about something for the last week and a half. At first I thought it was just stress from finals week, but as it went on, I wasn't so sure. He hasn't been eating, I see him working when I go to bed and when I get up in the morning, so God knows if he's been getting any sleep -,"

"He's getting out of the car." Don walked over to the sofa, picking up his beer, and turned on the TV and sat down, surfing through the channels. "I bet it's just finals week. You know how he gets when he's busy."

Alan sighed and shook his head, and looked up, peering sharply over his reading glasses as Charlie came through the door. Don glanced up casually; trying not to be obvious. His brother did look tired. He was wearing a white shirt, a little rumpled, tails hanging out and unbuttoned at the collar, and a dark jacket; the light and dark clothing somehow accentuating the paleness of his face and the darkness of his eyes. He smiled at them, but the smile didn't reach his eyes; they remained unreadable.

"Hey Dad, hey Donnie," he said quietly. Smiling was an effort. He glanced at Don as he set down his briefcase on the table. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Don looked back at the TV, trying to look uninterested. "Yeah, we've been busy. A bunch of smaller cases, but they all hit at once. You got finals going, huh?"

"Yeah, just finished," Charlie sighed. He edged his way slowly toward the kitchen. "They were a bear. I added that freshman class this term and they've been living in my office."

"Come on and sit with us," invited Alan. "Did you eat?"

Charlie had made it to the entrance to the kitchen. "I can't; I've got some files to go through. I ate at school." With that, he escaped through the door, grabbing a bottle of water on his way to the garage.

Alan shook his head. "Now do you see what I mean? He's been doing that every night, coming in late, and either heading to the garage or his room as soon as he gets here."

"I don't know, Dad, he sounded pretty normal to me. Anyway, what's unusual about him camping out in the garage? He's probably just trying to decompress after a long day."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," sighed Alan, although a piece of him was unconvinced.

"Whoa – hey, did you see that play?" exclaimed Don, his attention suddenly riveted to the screen. "Watch the replay. That'll make 'play of the week.'"

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Charlie flicked on the light to the garage. One of the lights was burned out, making it dimmer than usual, but he didn't care; it seemed to fit his mood. He wandered for a moment, drinking idly from his water bottle and looking at his Cognitive Emergence work on the blackboards, which had sat untouched for two weeks. He was procrastinating, and he knew it. He sighed, and looked around at the files scattered around the room. Putting down his water, he walked around, collecting them and depositing them in a pile on the table.

He stood in front of the pile for a long minute, and then grimly started to sort. Most of the files were his; these he kept on the table in stacks. Occasionally he would pull a file, leaf through it, and place it in a box. When he was done, he had eight of them, and he lifted the box, setting it on the table, and just stared it for a moment. 'Now I know why Dad had a hard time getting rid of Mom's clothes,' he thought. Tucking the box under his arm, he headed for the door, hitting the switch and plunging the room in blackness.

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Don leaned back in his chair the next morning, phone to his ear, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing as the heat hit his lips. "Yeah," he said, "put him through." Megan glanced idly at him, listening to the conversation as she shuffled through paperwork.

"Yeah, hey Ian," said Don. He was talking a little more loudly than usual; the connection must be bad, thought Megan. Colby and David looked up from their desks.

"How's it going? Yeah?" Don started scribbling as he talked, the conversation punctuated by pauses. "How many vics? Yeah, when did it start? Yeah, we can; I'll have to ask Charlie. He might be available – he just got done with finals. Yeah, okay, let me get back to you. This number? Okay." He hung up the phone and turned to call David and Colby over, the words dying on his lips as he saw them already up.

"That was Edgerton," Don said, as they gathered around. "They called him in as a tracker on a serial killer case, up in Los Padres National Forest. I guess the killer has been targeting hikers, three so far. He wanted to know if we can help out, Charlie too. He remembers what Charlie did to help us with tracking McHugh." He looked at his group. "How are you coming on your paperwork?" They had been working on the reports for the cases they just had closed – a tedious part of the job that they all dreaded.

"Almost done," said Megan, and David nodded. They looked at Colby and he sighed. "I guess I'll be staying late tonight," he said resignedly.

Don grinned. "Either that, or you can stay here and do paperwork while we go hiking." Colby made face. "Ian wants us up there tomorrow. I have to check with Charlie to see if he's available."

"Did he give you any details?" asked David. "M.O., anything?"

"No, but it doesn't sound pretty. He says he'll go over it with us when we get there – he's got pictures and some evidence."

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Charlie had gotten to campus earlier than usual that morning, and stood in the hallway outside of Amita's office, juggling the box and his briefcase. The door was open and he peered cautiously inside. When he saw that the room was empty he slipped in, and slid the box of files on her desk. He looked around for a brief moment, sadly; then headed back out into the hallway. He had just reached the corner leading to the stairs when he came face to face with her, and he stopped, wordless, the tightness in his gut making it impossible to breathe, much less talk.

"Oh, hi, Charlie," said Amita, a bit awkwardly.

She smiled at him, and he struggled for composure. Realizing his mouth was open, he clamped it shut. He couldn't quite generate a smile, but he did manage to speak. "Hi. I – uh – you left some files at my house – I put them in your office."

"Oh thanks." She regarded him for a moment. He looked tired and pale, and her next smile was laced with sympathy. They were still friends, after all. "Hey, do you want to get a cup of coffee?"

Charlie began edging around her. "Uh, no, thanks – I've got a – I've got an appointment; gotta go." He put his head down and fled down the stairs, and she watched him go, her smile fading to a look of uncertainty.

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Don strode across the CalSci campus with lunches in his grip – sandwiches from Charlie's favorite deli. A bribe wouldn't hurt, he thought, although he might not need it. As fried as Charlie looked last night, he would probably jump at the chance to get away for a while, especially if it involved hiking. He looked up, and saw Amita walking a short distance away; her path perpendicular to his. She hadn't seen him, and he opened his mouth to call to her, but held up as she approached someone and called a greeting. He looked like a student, and Don decided it would be rude to break up the conversation, and kept walking.

He skirted a group of students, glancing idly toward Amita again, thinking it had been awhile since he had seen her. Of course he hadn't seen Charlie much lately either, he reasoned. What he saw when he glanced at her again stopped him dead in his tracks. The man, tall and blonde, leaned down as she rose on tiptoe, and they exchanged a kiss. Smiling, the man put his arm around her and they sauntered away, Amita's lively laughter floating back to him.

'Oh, man,' thought Don, his heart sinking. Students flowed around him, unnoticed. 'Aw, Charlie-,' He felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He could only imagine how Charlie felt. 'No wonder he's been acting like that,' he thought. He found his feet slowly moving again, and headed toward his brother's office, trying to gather his thoughts.

Charlie looked out of his office window, hands twisted together, oblivious to the beauty of the day outside. What wasn't fair, he thought, was that they had been doing so well. He had finally felt like their relationship was comfortable. It was the physical aspect that had made it real for him – they were so good together in so many respects, and that had just cemented it. He hadn't had a lot of experience with the physical side of relationships – more than his brother might think, but still not a large amount, and it meant something to him – a commitment, a risk, a placing of trust in someone else. He felt as if he had been opened up inside, and someone had taken something from him. Suddenly, so fast it made his head spin, what they had was gone; it was over.

Seeing her that morning had reminded him how raw the hurt still was. Her smile had hit him like a blow - he still ached for the smell of her, her warmth as she curled up next to him, the softness of her hair. His eyes wandered, and he stiffened suddenly as he saw him on the sidewalk below. Charlie still didn't know his name, although Amita did tell him that he was obtaining his doctorate at UCLA – in art, of all things. He saw her approach; his gut wrenched at their kiss, her laughter, and he swallowed hard, trying to will down the pain. He was still standing there long after they had gone, staring at nothing, when his brother stepped quietly into the room.

Don had taken his time getting to Charlie's office, debating on whether he should he should say anything, and deciding against it, at least for now. He could understand why Charlie hadn't told their father – breaking the news to Alan that yet another Eppes relationship had foundered was not something that anyone would look forward to. He hoped that they had gotten close enough that Charlie would open up to him, but he hadn't been around much lately, and on reflection, figured he should give him some time. If Charlie came with them to Los Padres, maybe they would get a chance to talk. For the time being, Don decided, he would act as though he knew nothing, and he put on his game face as he stepped through the doorway.

"Hey, Chuck," he said. Charlie turned suddenly, obviously unprepared for a visitor, and the raw pain on his face made Don's heart contract. Just as suddenly, the expression vanished, and Charlie's face was devoid of emotion, except for something dark simmering just under the surface of his eyes. 'Just like he looked last night,' Don thought. 'And I just thought he was tired.' He held up the bags. "I brought lunch."

Charlie sent him a sardonic smile. "You came all the way over here, just to bring lunch?"

Don grinned back. "Are you suggesting that I have an ulterior motive?" Charlie smiled again; it had an element of sadness to it, but at least he was smiling, thought Don.

"When do you not?" He walked over to his desk and sat, and Don pulled up a chair.

"Hey, that's not fair. I don't always have an agenda." Don eyes twinkled at him as he unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite. "But I do today."

Charlie unwrapped his sandwich, but left it sitting, and leaned back in his chair. "And that would be?"

"Edgerton called this morning. He's been assigned to track a serial killer in Los Padres. He remembered what you did to help track McHugh, and he wanted to know if we could help him out. He wants us up there tomorrow." He stopped as Charlie rose suddenly and stood up, walking back over to the windows, then, when he got no response, continued. "I figured your finals are done, maybe you'd want some fresh air and a little hiking." He paused and waited for Charlie to respond, watching him with a small frown.

Charlie sighed. He really should be cleaning out his files and organizing his office; it was more atrocious than even he could stand. He grimaced at his weak excuse. The fact was; he wasn't sure he had the energy, the will, to do anything right now. He stared blankly out of the window at the spot where he had last seen Amita and her new boyfriend, and the memory of their kiss stole into his mind, making his throat constrict. Unexpectedly, he felt an enormous need to escape this place, to get away from the constant reminders, and his brother's request looked suddenly like a lifeline. It would be something to occupy his mind, he thought consciously, and somewhere deep in his subconscious was the unspoken need to lean on his brother, someone he could trust.

He turned, and tried to look noncommittal, shrugging. "Sure – I think I can swing that."

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