The Last Time
A/N: I wrote this a few months ago, lost it and then found it again. So here you go. Please read and review.
Summary: Charlie's falling into P vs NP again after losing someone he loves. Someone's got to get him out of his bubble before he simply fades away. Warning: There is a character death, sort of.
"Charlie please don't do this, I'm begging you Buddy," Don's voice was soft as his brother ignored him, still working on the blackboard, "You have to deal with this, you can't just drown it out with the numbers...not like with Mom."
The clatter of the chalk on the chalkboard was his only answer. Don sighed quietly, looking at his brother's nearly emaciated body; Charlie had not eaten in nearly three days... only when Don or his father had forced him too. He was thin, with dark circles under his eyes and it looked as if he would fall over at any second. "She was my everything..." Charlie muttered, before continuing his work.
"Charlie..." Don trailed off, shaking his head, he was about to continue, but that was when he saw the tears falling down Charlie's face and his eyes were full of shame, "C'mon Buddy, Amita wouldn't have wanted you to do this."
"I went to see her... I held her as she died," Charlie shot back at him, swiping fraily at the tears, "Even when she looked just like Mom did, I stayed with her. When she lost her hair... I told her she was beautiful... and she was. I couldn't do that for Mom because I was too weak and it killed me to have to see the woman I loved... so...broken. I am still weak." He turned back to the chalkboard and wrote down another number set for P vs NP.
"Charlie, it's okay... I-I understa-" he began but Charlie threw down his chalk and faced him.
"DON'T EVEN PRETEND YOU UNDERSTAND DON!!!!" He shrieked loudly, the tears still falling. His curls jittered as his whole body began to shake, "It'll never be okay," he whispered softly, retrieving his chalk, "Never."
"Please Charlie, last time... the last time you woke up," Don commented quietly on when Charlie had done this when Don had gotten shot, "But this time, you're wasting away."
"Maybe that's what I want," he mumbled almost intelligibly and Don just made it out.
"Charlie no," he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, but he shook it off.
"Get out of my house," he ordered calmly, "Now."
"Buddy..."
"GET OUT!" The facade of calm had completely disappeared and Charlie wielded his chalk like a weapon, "Just get out! Before I call the police! GET OUT!"
"You've kicked Dad out and he's living in my apartment, Charlie... You can't just push everything and everyone away," Don tried to reason with his younger brother, "You're killing yourself. If we didn't make you eat..."
"I can and I will," Charlie snapped, his eyes slightly glazed, "Now get out."
Don didn't speak, only shook his head as he turned around and left his brother's house. He bit his lip and took one look back at his baby brother; Charlie was a mess.
Charlie barely noticed that his brother was gone, just continued to work on the math that was overtaking his every thought. It let him forget about the cancer that had stolen not only his mother, but the love of his life. In the back of his mind though, he thought that maybe if he could solve the impossible... maybe he could bring his Mom and Amita back. As crazy as it sounded, it was better than admitting they were both gone for good.
He swayed on his feet as a certain number seemed to constantly evade him and he just knew if he got it... he would solve P vs NP and get Amita back. It fluttered with shiny, translucent wings in front of him, but whenever he reached for it, it darted out of the way. "No come back..." he told it as he jumped to grab it and landed awkwardly on his feet.
It fluttered to the other end of the garage and Charlie ran for it. Just as he reached it, his feet got tangled up within each other and before he knew it, he was falling. He didn't even have the strength to brace himself with his hands, he just fell limply to the floor, his forehead smashing against the cool concrete. It was only then the thoughts of math, his Mom and Amita left him, replaced with a sharp darkness.
Don was in his car, about to leave, but he thought better of it. Charlie needed him, he couldn't just leave. Maybe, just maybe, if he got Charlie to talk about it his brother would stop killing himself over a math problem. Shaking his head once again, he re-entered the garage, to find Charlie, lying limply on the floor, a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.
"Charlie! Are you okay?!" He heard someone yell and it took a surreal moment to realize he had yelled it. In mere seconds he was at his brother's side, carefully turning him onto his back, "Charlie... come on Buddy... wake up." There was no response and Don snagged his cellphone from his pocket, before dialling 9-1-1.
"9-1-1 what's your emergency?" The female operator asked him promptly.
"My brother... he's unconscious," Don told her quickly, "I think he fell and his head is bleeding. I'm at 467 Sunset Grove, in the garage, hurry." He hung up and turned back to his brother. By now he had Charlie's head in his lap as he stemmed the bleeding. "Oh damn it Charlie... I know you miss them, but don't leave Dad and me alone."
Charlie's face was pale, but it was also peaceful for the first time in a long time. Don held his brother close to him, shaking just slightly, but the worry and the fear was etched into his face. He thought he felt a single tear slide down his face and he was right. "s-sorry..."
"Charlie!" Don looked down at his baby brother, "Are you alright?"
"S-s-sorry..." he murmured again, looking up at him with sorrow in his eyes, "Ne'er meant...hurt you."
"Oh Buddy it's okay," Don whispered back to him, trying his best to make his brother feel better... in both the physical and emotional sense. "You didn't hurt me. You just had me worried, because you're my little brother and I hate to see you hurt like this. Buddy, your my brother and I love you in every sense of the word."
"It got away," Charlie's voice grew quite faint as he said it.
"What got away? Charlie?" Don's eyes were filled with a constant worry and he prayed silently that the ambulance would arrive soon.
"P vs NP...the...answa..." Charlie told him almost childishly and now tears slid down his face, "Now...can't...'Mita, Mom back..."
"Charlie solving that P thingy can't bring them back," Don tried to shatter the barrier his brother had been building for the past three weeks, since Amita had passed on.
"Why not?" Charlie questioned weakly, a little angry he was not getting the answer he needed.
"It just can't Bud, I'm sorry," Don replied softly with a sad shake of his head, "It's just not possible. I wish your math could bring them back too, but not even math can bring people back to life, I'm sorry."
"Donnie?" Charlie looked up at him with eyes that were hooded with pain, "Don't let... do this anymore."
"I won't Buddy, I won't," Don promised quietly, "I'll break you out of your bubble next time, promise."
"Don't want...be...next..time," Charlie whispered and Don sighed as he swept a lock of bloodied hair from his little brother's face.
"Then this is the last time," he said quietly, "I won't let you do it anymore."
"Kay Donnie," Charlie murmured, his eyes slowly drifting shut as the sirens finally approached.
---FINIS---
P.S. Whether this is a Charlie death fic or not is up to the reader's interpretation. And for all those Amita fans, I'm sorry. I like Amita too, but this muse kind of took on a life of its own.
--Queen of Cliffies--