Chapter 7

*Later That Same Day*

"ARGH! SHIT! It's six a.m. for Christ's sake!" Colby protested as Charlie, mercilessly ripped back the curtains, allowing what little sunlight there was to fill the gloomy room.

"P.m." Charlie replied unashamedly as he crossed over to Colby and stripped the covers back, "Come on, up you get," Charlie said more gently this time, "We're going out! You need the fresh air…and a bath because frankly, you smell like ass," Charlie held his nose for emphasis, "anyone told you that you're stinking up the place?"

"Inside voice," Colby cringed at Charlie's loud announcement, "my head is killing me!" Colby, who had the biggest hangover known to man, pulled his rumpled pillow over his unshaved face and groaned. He was too hung-over to ponder over Charlie's miraculous appearance.

"Well if you didn't attack dad's liquor cabinet you wouldn't be hung-over," Charlie informed Colby reproachfully. "Now come on, we're going out and you need to clean up first. Drink this and take these and you'll be right as rain," Charlie said with more daring than he felt as he held out a glass of water and two aspirin.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Colby groaned as Charlie snatched the pillow from his grasp, and without thinking hit Colby on the legs to get him moving. The gesture, although intended innocently, nevertheless caused Colby to freeze as once more the realisation that he was paralysed slammed against his chest like a sledge hammer, setting off a firecracker of emotion.

Ever since 'the incident', as Colby had overheard Don call it once, Colby had enjoyed a few dreams in which he was running, putting foot to pavement, and enjoying the rush of adrenaline that coursed throughout his healthy body. Cruelly, every morning he awoke to this nightmare called life, where his body had become a broken shell within which he now found himself imprisoned. Is it any wonder I like a drink every now and again? Colby thought mutinously.

If Charlie realised the turmoil of emotion he'd rekindled in Colby he wasn't showing signs of it. "Where are we going?" Colby asked after consuming the water and aspirin ravenously, "hopefully somewhere with a fry up?" He asked optimistically.

"No, but dad might be persuaded when we get back," Charlie plastered a smile on his face to hide the obvious discomfort he felt watching Colby struggle from his bed to the wheelchair. "Let me help you!"

Charlie hurried to his side, but Colby slapped his helping hand away. "I've got it," he replied harshly through gritted teeth. "Why don't you give me half an hour to wash?" Colby supplied more gently at Charlie's shocked expression, and waited till Charlie had left the room before struggling once more to get into the chair.

*break*

"WHAT ARE WE doing here?" Colby looked up at Charlie accusingly.

"It's where you bought me," Charlie replied looking out at the stunning view before them, "that time I couldn't work because I was terrified at having been followed and chased by that car."

"Yeah," Colby replied as he sat and Charlie stood in companionable silence, "it's one of my favourite spots…" The city of Los Angeles lay sprawled before them. Colby liked the remote car park because not many people visited the overlook, leaving it a nice spot for one to do some soul searching. He'd wanted to come here, but unable to drive he'd been too proud to ask someone else to drive him. "I can't believe you remembered that," Colby shook his head in disbelief.

"I needed someone and only you got through…this place it's so…" Charlie said, his arm sweeping to cover the scenic view before them.

"Serene?" Colby supplied, as he ran his hands through his damp hair.

"Do you remember what you said to me that day?" Charlie asked turning to observe Colby, his intent gaze taking in Colby's freshly shaven pale face, the dark smudges that shadowed his eyes, and the lines of tension furrowing his brow.

"No," Colby replied self-consciously under Charlie's scrutinising gaze, "I would have said anything to help Bonnie," Colby told Charlie bluntly, referring to Bonnie Parks the TV reporter whom had gone missing at the time. Unable to hold Charlie's disappointed gaze, Colby started to pick at the frayed edge of a hole in his worn Levis, making the slit bigger, and only stopping when his knee poked through.

"Well I do," Charlie stormed on, ignoring Colby's obvious discomfort, "You told me that 'you can't just keep it all locked up inside your head. You can't just keep going around telling everyone your fine'."

"What if you are fine?" Colby retorted.

"You're not fine Colby," Charlie mumbled as he turned once more to take in the scenery. "I have a kitchen and an empty liquor cabinet that tells me so," Charlie crossed his arms, his face hidden.

At Charlie's words heat began to creep up Colby's neck making him hot with shame, "it was one bad night."

"One bad night?" Charlie looked disbelievingly at Colby's haggard appearance.

Although he had endured a gruelling regiment of physiotherapy during his stay in hospital, Colby was only too aware that he had lost a lot of weight; his jeans were practically hanging off of him. He shifted uncomfortably at the weight of Charlie's frown. "Yes one," Colby replied angrily but his voice lacked the conviction.

"Colby…" Charlie's voice crackled with grief, causing Colby to turn away as he sat doubtfully down on the small barricade, arms crossed. "You can't keep pushing us all away," he said after a moment, "you just can't."

"LOOK," Colby replied more aggressively than he'd meant to, "I can't control this…this THING that's going on inside my head," Colby said, leaning back in the chair and mimicking Charlie's crossed arms and stern expression, "you want to know the truth," he said aggressively, "I don't know how I feel."

"You don't?" Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"No, I'm too numb to feel anything." Colby replied quietly.

Knowing from experience that when you want someone to open up you have to keep quiet and let them bridge the gap in the conversation, Charlie waited patiently for Colby to continue.

"I tell a lie, I do have this pain…in my chest, and its killing me…I haven't been sleeping well at all. Sometimes I get these amazing dreams where I'm running…but most the time I can't sleep at all. There are these monsters that…that dance across my eyelids whenever I close them," Colby stopped to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "I can't sleep and I can't stop thinking about it. I can't even play 'what if' because I can't remember what happened. Sure I get flashes, but I don't really know. No one will tell me either. It's like the last three months were a terrible nightmare that I can't stop thinking about. It's ridiculous because I don't know what led me to go into that Kmart. I don't shop at Kmart's Charlie. Why was I there? And what do I do next? I don't know what to do, I just don't know anything anymore…"

"Everyone is against it, but if it's what you truly want then I can tell you what happened in those two months. Why you were in the Kmart." Shaking his head, Colby watched in disbelief as a host of conflicting emotions crossed Charlie's round face. A mixture of anger and disproval, met with guilt. In that brief moment, Charlie's pinched face resembled Don's own look of guilt for the past three weeks, that it was an effort not to laugh at the absurdness and irony of it all.

"They told you?" Colby replied in uneven tones. "You were in England for Christ's sake, but they let you in on all the gory details? Tell me are they good?" Colby added cruelly, "Were they worth the flight over?"

Taken aback, almost as if Colby had physically stuck him, Charlie rushed to reassure Colby, "they said the doctor recommended that they don't pressure you. Your memory was supposed to comeback over time…" Charlie hesitated uncertain.

"They also said that feeling was meant to comeback in my legs over time," Colby replied his voice leaden with scorn. "But it hasn't," Colby replied, his voice steely in his resentment.

"I'm sorry," Charlie stumbled, disheartened by his friends anger.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING PITY!" Colby yelled as he directed all his pent up fury at Charlie, his hands hitting his dead legs in frustration. The next moment he spoke so quietly that Charlie had to lean forwards to catch it, "I just want the truth." His anger deserting him, Colby sagged in defeat.

After a moment's hesitation and a furtive look at Colby's distressed face, Charlie decided that keeping Colby in the dark wasn't an option anymore. "You were undercover for two months trying to take down a known gun trafficker. You were ordered to prove they were selling cop killing ammunition." Charlie supplied weakly in an attempt to appease Colby.

"I know all that, my last memory is taking my cover Id and entering the locker room." Colby replied patiently as he too studied the horizon intently, afraid that Charlie might stop.

"Well according to Don there was an incident involving your CI. The man you were after found out he was an FBI spy, and ordered that you and a couple others beat him up and kill him to set an example of what happens to snitches in his gang." Charlie said, getting up and turning his back to Colby as he looked out on the city below.

"Did I? Help them hurt my CI I mean," Colby's voice came out unsteady, and he hated the weakness it exposed. He couldn't believe what Charlie was saying. He knew that even undercover he would never do such a thing. And yet, Charlie was telling him that he had. Colby couldn't stand not remembering.

"Yes…yes you did. Don tells me you got him out alive. He was sent to intensive care. He died three nights later from internal complications," Charlie's voice betrayed his loathing, breaking Colby's heart. He can't even look at me, Colby thought in horrified despair. "Apparently that night you went to Don, and asked out of the case. You were angry at how far Don was pushing you for a result, so you took the evidence you had and demanded out."

"And?" Colby asked ashamed with his own actions.

"And…Don demanded that you stay undercover to find the bullets!" Charlie swivelled round, the anger crackling in his soft brown eyes, his disgust clearly reserved for his brother.

"That's why Don's been acting guilty these past few weeks," Colby mused, "he ordered me to stay in, and I ended up in that Kmart and got shot."

"No, you were in that Kmart because earlier that morning you secured the conviction. You testified in his trial. Afterwards you and Liz went out on a date, and on your way back you stopped at the Kmart for money. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Charlie replied sympathetically.

"And the shooter?" Colby asked after a long pause, unable to trust his own voice.

"A widower who tried to rob the shop whist you were in it," Charlie replied in sympathy, "a situation occurred between a detective and the shooter. You jumped in the way and saved the man's life."

"I took the bullet for someone else…" Colby replied in wonderment.

"Yes, you're a hero, I know you don't feel one, but the detective had a family. Wife and two young daughters." Charlie, smiled with admiration, but Colby definitely didn't feel like a hero.

"Did he see my gun or something? The shooter that is," Colby replied unable to believe it all, it was too much.

"No, you had left your gun in Liz's car when you went into the restaurant."

"Liz…no wonder she keeps coming to the house…" Colby said, practically ignoring Charlie as everything he'd just been told swam around inside his head at a rate of knots. "Was she…was she in the shop with me?" Colby asked hesitantly, the thought that anything might have happened to Liz brought a lump of fear to his throat. He couldn't remember the situation, but for some reason he could picture her terrified face. She was screaming at him, her face streaked with tears. At that moment Colby wanted nothing more than to reach out for her and pull her into his protective embrace. Except he was imprisoned in a wheelchair, and as far as Colby was concerned the chair acted like a barrier between them. Suddenly the thought of seeing that pitying look, which everyone had been giving him lately, in Liz's eyes, broke his heart.

"No, she was outside in the car. You went in alone. Dad says you refuse to see her…" Charlie enquired softly at the look of terror mixed with bitter resentment on Colby's face.

"I couldn't stand the thought of her seeing me like this," Colby smiled weakly, "I know it hurts her when Alan turns her away…and I know that that's because of me, but I just can't face her in this, this thing," Colby replied thumping his wheelchair in resentment.

"But if you two are seeing each other-"

"-that's just it. As far as my memory knows, I'm not. I had this intimate date with her and I don't remember a thing. My dream comes true, and I'm completely unable to remember a thing! I want her and at the same time I can't face her. Everything you've told me sounds like it could have happened to anyone else!" Colby protested loudly.

"It didn't though, and sooner or later you're going to have to come to terms with that," Charlie said as if addressing an errant child, and ignored the fact that Colby had deliberately changed the subject away from Liz.

"What," Colby replied, his voice heavy with contempt, "come to terms with what exactly? Huh? The fact that I'm out of a Job because I can't walk? Or how's about the fact that I'm homeless BECAUSE I CAN'T CLIMB THE FUCKING STAIRS? My life is over, I know it and you know it. If my legs never recover…"

"Don't say that…" Charlie squeaked in anguish.

"Why? You're all thinking it!" Colby replied harshly, "hell even I'm thinking it. I might be paralysed for life Charlie. That's not something that you just come to terms with in the course of three weeks."

"I know, but you can't just si…torture yourself either!" Charlie stumbled over the words.

"What I can't sit here, wallowing in self-pity?" Colby replied with a ghost of a smile. "Don't worry Charlie, I'm depressed I not suicidal. I'm not going to kill myself if you're un-PC about it."

"I just, I don't want to hurt you any more than you already are," Charlie said, deflating a little.

"And I really appreciate that Charlie, but right now nothing can take that pain away…except…except" Colby stopped abruptly.

"Except for alcohol," Charlie finished for him, "You don't need it."

"No, what I don't need is my friends patronising meand talking to me differently because guess what Chuck it isn't helping." Colby replied sourly. "It kills me Charlie. To have to rely on others to do the simplest of tasks…I can't put pants on by myself, don't…don't take what little pride I have left."

"I'm really sorry Colby, about everything," Charlie said with unshed tears blurring his eyesight.

"I know you are Charlie, and believe me no one's sorrier than I am. But you were right this morning, getting drunk and causing a scene in your kitchen last night, I'm sorry Charlie…for being ungrateful. I know Alan's trying to help, make things easier…"

"But you'd rather ask for help than have it thrust upon you," Charlie nodded, "I can respect that. I'll have a word with Dad."

"It really has been appreciated Charlie. I mean…he gave his new home up for me. I just…It's hard enough…I'm paralysed but not completely incapable."

"It's ok, really he'll understand. He loves you like a son, your family to us Colby. Don't forget that."

"I won't," Colby smiled wirily thinking of his own family's reappearance in his life. "Have you met my brother yet? You'd like him Charlie," Colby smiled. It hadn't been easy, but Jason had forgiven Colby for the whole 'I'm dead' fiasco. As far as Jason was concerned, Colby almost died for real, and there was no point being deliberately angry and wasting any more time. Colby was alive, and Jason wanted his brother back. Colby felt the same.

"Not yet, but I'm looking forward to meeting your big brother!" Charlie smiled in return.

"I don't want to seem ungrateful Charlie, to you or your dad, but a few days ago I overheard my brother talking to his assistant at the garage. He needs to go home."

"And you're thinking of going with him," Charlie replied resigned.

"Yes, I know it's selfish," Colby looked at Charlie imploringly.

"But you want more time with you estranged brother, trust me if anyone knows how that feels, I do." Charlie nodded. "But are you sure it's not too much too soon? You can't sort through all this alone, and you certainly can't go on like you have for the last week!" Charlie replied, gesturing with his hands erratically, "You're displaying all the characteristics of depression and you want the truth? That worries me!"

"I know it does, it scares me shitless too," Colby replied cautiously, he hated admitting weakness. "But as for going through this all alone…I won't have to," Colby replied as he turned his wheelchair around, and started wheeling back towards the car, "I'll have my brother," Colby grinned over his shoulder at Charlie, but faltered at his answering gaze, "I need to tell Don, but then I'm going home Charlie." Colby, suddenly serious, hoped it would appease Charlie for now.

"I understand," Charlie sighed in defeat, "let's go order dad to make us that fry up!" he replied overly bight. And without any further protest Charlie followed Colby back to the car. Only helping Colby when he asked, and eventually climbing in after him. Pressing play on the stereo, Charlie put the car in gear, and Colby tried not to resent his friend for his ability to still be able to drive.

*break*

"WHAT DO YOU mean he's not here?" Liz shouted, slightly hysterically.

"I mean he came home with Charlie about an hour ago, spoke to me about going home and then…left." Don replied as he gestured for Liz to follow him into the large living room.

"But…why?" She asked as she crumpled into the comfortable sofa. She was dressed casually in a ruby silk shirt and black trousers, but Don suspected more to the outfit. She was so carefully made up that Don assumed she'd come to confront Colby. Having also been refused entry for the past week, Don could sympathise with Liz.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Don placed a comforting hand on her soft shoulder, "To be with his brother," He replied softly, "I assume he just needs some time away from here, from LA…from all of us."

"So he's gone?" Liz's eyes began to fill with tears, and her soft lips parted in anger, "That's it? Nothing about coming back?"

"Look, he had a rough night, and Charlie took him out for a long chat. He's been really depressed Liz and next thing I know he's set on leaving immediately. You should have seen him last night! What a mess!" Don rubbed his face tiredly at this, and for a moment Liz felt bad that she was stressing him further.

"What happened?" She asked breathlessly afraid for the worst.

"He got drunk, fell out of his chair trying to reach a gin bottle. He got a few cuts and bruises but he was ok," Don supplied at her worried frown.

"And then he just what? Spoke to your bother and left?" Liz replied, finding it hard to believe.

"Basically, yeah." Don hadn't believed his eyes either when Colby and Charlie had come home, laughing and smiling. It was as if Charlie had broken this evil spell that had been hanging over the house for the past week. "I don't know what Charlie said but it did the trick. He smiled Liz, for the first time in a week Colby smiled at me," Don smiled at the memory of Colby wheeling over to him, two beers dripping droplets of water in his lap. "I apologised, he apologised-"

"-basically you shared a rather touching moment, how lovely for you," Liz cut in scornfully, "Now you don't have to be so guilty that you left him undercover in a potentially dangerous situation just to further your own career! How many bonus points did the cop killer bullets score you with the AD?"

"Look, Liz I know your hurting, and I'm sorry that Colby's treated you so badly. But there's a lot going on that he has to work though. Think about it, the way Colby defined himself for the last, what? Thirteen years, he's been, first a solider, and then a cop. Being paralysed, it's as if he's lost his identity. Right now Colby doesn't know who he is, and though it's hurt a lot of us, he's got to be selfish right now."

"I know all that!" Liz screamed defiantly, "But why can't he work it out here?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't answer that because I don't know," Don pulled her against him as the first wave of tears fell, and slowly rocked her back and forth like a small fragile child. "I'm sorry Liz, I really am."