I know quite a few of you were thinking that Perez had to do with Alan, not with Charlie, but I couldn't help having him be the half brother of a student. For some reason, that part was one of the first things that I had decided when I started this story. I hope it wasn't too farfetched, that it was somewhat believable. I also know that I did quite a bit with coincidences in my last story, but I guess they were still playing in my mind, and we'll see what happens next.
Disclaimer: Not before, not now, and likely not ever, especially since they cancelled the show.
"Do you know who I am?" Perez asked. He was sitting on Charlie's bed, gun hand steady.
Charlie swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat. "You're the one that attacked my father," he said, feeling a bit of pride that his voice didn't shake. In truth, he was terrified. Even if he wasn't exhausted, he knew that he was no match, physically, for this man. "What I want to know is why." It was still hard to talk clearly through his broken nose, though the ice had brought the swelling down a bit, and he was more coherent.
"I think that, as I'm the one with the gun, I'll be asking the questions," Perez snapped. Then he grinned savagely. "Who'd you get into a fight with?" he asked, seeing the bruises. "I'd like to thank them."
Charlie didn't let the pain show on his face at the thought of the scene at the hospital. "Oh, I'm sorry, I think I forgot," he said sarcastically. His hand moved carefully to his pocket. He didn't care that he and Don were on the outs, he knew when he needed help.
"Ah ah," Perez said, mockingly. "I think I'd like your phone, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want our visit to be ended prematurely."
Mentally cursing, Charlie nodded, and slowly pulled out the phone, and he took a few steps forward to hand it to him. However, the time that he'd spent with the FBI, and the training course had taught him a few things.
He threw the phone as sharply as he could at the man, watching as it smacked him in the face. He kicked the gun out of the man's hand, and took off out of the room, ignoring the scream of rage from Perez. He threw himself down the stairs, cringing when a bullet whizzed past his head, and he grabbed Don's baseball bat from the hall closet, and paused, waiting and hiding in the shadows. When he saw Perez holding the gun in front of him, he brought the bat down with a sickening crunch on the arm, the gun discharging again, the bullet tearing through the hardwood floor.
"You little shit!" Perez roared, grabbing his arm in pain. "I'll make you pay for that!"
But Charlie had already started running through the house again. He was grateful beyond words that he had spent practically his entire life in that house, and knew every nook and cranny there was. There was a hidden panel in the kitchen pantry that he had used quite a bit when he and Don would play hide and seek.
He moved as silently as he could, knowing that being quiet was just as important as being quick. He had just closed the pantry door and was closing the panel closed when he heard footsteps in the kitchen.
Barely breathing, Charlie listened carefully. He felt ridiculous, cowering in the corner, when he knew that Don would have found a way to take the guy out before it had gotten this bad. He pushed those thoughts away, though, knowing that they weren't important right then.
"Think you can hide from me? Well, don't worry, I'll find you. Though I really would have thought that a college teacher would be too old for a game of hide and seek," Perez continued to mock as he held the gun in his left hand, and checking each room.
Charlie breathed a bit easier when he heard the footsteps retreating. He strained his ears to try and hear what was going on, but there wasn't much for him to hear, as the pantry was rather insulated. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when he heard three gunshots on the other side of the house.
Though the adrenaline was pumping through his veins, he still felt like he was about to collapse. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, and he waited for the end to come, for Perez to find him. He was still confused as the why the hell the guy was after his family, but he didn't need answers right then.
The pounding in his chest got worse when he heard someone running into the kitchen again, and resigned himself when he heard the pantry door open. The panel opened, and Charlie cringed.
"Chuck," Don breathed in relief, making Charlie's head snap up.
"Don?" he demanded incredulously. On shaking legs, he stood and walked out of the hidden room. "What… how did you… where's…?"
Don holstered his weapon, and spoke into the com in his ear. "He's fine. You call the coroner for Perez yet? I don't know, let me ask." Talking to Charlie this time, he asked in complete seriousness. "Do you need medical attention?" he demanded, eyes expertly looking over his brother for life threatening injuries.
Charlie shook his head, leaning on the wall and trying to control his breathing. "I'm fine," he gasped, the event s of the evening washing over him, and he realized just how lucky he was.
"No on the ambulance, Col, thanks," Don said to Colby, and turned back to his brother, still worried. "Let's get you sitting down," he said, able to tell that it wasn't much longer before he collapsed. He grabbed Charlie by the upper arm and led him to one of the kitchen chairs, helping him put his head between his knees, and accepted the glass of water that David handed him when the team walked into the room.
"How you holding up, Mr. Math?" Nikki asked, looking completely at ease with everything.
"Where's Perez?" Charlie asked instead of answering the rather stupid question. "What happened?"
"Perez is dead." Don was still worried. Normally, his brother would be talking nonstop about something, and applying mathematical applications to everything in sight. The nearly silent Charlie was worrisome. "Amita figured it all out, and we knew that he would be coming after you, so we hightailed it here."
"Well, thanks," Charlie said, realizing how close of a call it could have been. If he had been feeling like himself, he would be firing off questions, particularly about how Amita figured everything out, but right then there was only one thing that he needed to know. "Is Dad alright?"
"He's fine. Assuming we get this place cleaned up by the morning," he checked his watch, "well, later this morning, he'll be coming home." Before this case, the Craftsman had not been a crime scene once, and now it was one twice in twelve hours? It was rather surreal.
Again, Charlie just nodded. Nothing was helping with the dizziness, and he looked up in time to see the team looking concerned at him, before his eyes rolled up and blackness overtook him.
"Whoa!" Don yelled, steadying his brother's body as it almost fell off the chair.
Briggs, who had entered the room with Walker when the team was talking with the professor, stepped forward. "I have medic training," he explained to the strange looks. "Let me take a look at him."
Don nodded, but only shifted away slightly, still holding his brother steady. Briggs knelt in front of the passed out genius, and put two fingers on the wrist as he looked at his own watch. Apparently satisfied, he checked Charlie's pupils with a penlight, and then stood. "He just passed out. From the looks of things, he's severely exhausted; not to mention I don't think he's had a descent meal in a while. Add that with the adrenaline rush he just had, I would have been surprised if he had stayed conscious." Seeing the blank looks he got, he bit back a chuckle, as it wasn't the time or place. "Let him sleep it off and have a good meal when he wakes, and he'll be fine."
Colby stepped forward. "I'll take him to the couch," he offered, and his jaw nearly hit the floor with how easy it was to lift another grown man. Deciding not to say anything out loud, he just walked with the professor over his shoulder into the living room, seeing the coroner taking the body bag out of the room, and gently laid him on the couch. Don was there and threw a blanket over him, and they both quietly left the room.
Words couldn't describe how relieved Don was that everything was over. He watched as the crime scene cleaners left after dealing with the blood smears, and all of the investigators left after taking photos of everything, the shell casings, and the baseball bat, which Don was sure he would never be able to look at the same again.
He still had a lot of work to do to sort out his feelings regarding everything, but he thought he understood everything, and was appalled at himself for how long it took him to get it, even though he and Charlie had been working together for over five years.
He knew the signs of Charlie working for another agency. There was the evasion regarding details, the inability to work faithfully on Don's case alone, and the lines of exhaustion from far too much math in too short of a time. Really, he didn't know what was wrong with him for not having figured it out earlier.
He also couldn't figure out what Amita was talking about, that Charlie had taken a leave from the university. Don could remember Charlie's first semester of teaching at CalSci, and the fact that he'd practically been beaming at everyone and everything. He'd loved it. So Don couldn't figure out why he would give it up after so long, especially when he was already tenured!
He knew that he and Charlie needed to have a long conversation about everything, but it could wait. They would figure out their relationship as soon as he made sure that Charlie didn't self destruct like this again.
*grins* As much as I love whump and drama and angst and... all of that, I still love it when I get super stubborn characters to see the light!
