Chapter 10: Finding the Strength
"Charlie!" Don yelled. No answer. "Charlie, answer me!"
He walked slowly and cautiously through the house, fear nearly consuming him. He could not go through this again. He could not lose Charlie. His brother meant everything to him. He had let him down once; he could not do it again.
The ground level of the house was empty. Don made his way to the stairs, shuddering as he recalled the last time he had approached those stairs with a gun in hand.
"Charlie!" He called again. He could hear breathing, loud and shallow, emanating from his brother's room. He pressed his back against the hall wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He approached the open door, and then stepped out.
"FB-" he began, but was cut short. His heart leapt into his throat, and he lowered his gun.
"Charlie," he said, his voice cracking. At the foot of the bed, Bartholomew Leary kneeled, his hands behind his head. He was staring at the floor, his face shining with sweat.
Charlie Eppes stood behind the murderer, holding a pistol with shaky hands. His eyes were dull and cold as they stared at the man kneeling on the ground.
"What the hell are you doing, Charlie?" Don said, finding his voice again. Charlie looked up, and Don could see his nose and mouth were bleeding. Dark bruises were forming on his younger brother's throat, giving evidence to attempted strangulation. For a moment, Don's heart swelled with pride and worry. His little brother had managed to fend off an attacker, and a serial killer at that.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Charlie asked harshly, putting fear back into Don's heart again.
"Put that gun down, Charlie," Don said, trying to keep his voice even.
"I'm going to kill him, Don," Charlie said, looking back down at Bartholomew. "I'm not going to let him hurt us anymore."
"Charlie, don't. This isn't you-"
"It is me!" Charlie screamed, his eyes flashing with anger. Don's heart threatened to stop when he saw Charlie's gun hand jerk. Even if he pulled that trigger accidentally, he would be a murderer.
"No, it's not. Charlie, you've had a rough month. Just put the gun down, let me arrest him, and we can take a nice vacation with Dad. Maybe we could go to New York, so you can take your bike and see the city. Wouldn't that be nice?"
The gun began to lower. Don felt the tension gripping his entire body ease a little.
"You think that's all it's going to take, Charlie?" Bartholomew said suddenly. "You think a little vacation will erase my brother from your memory?"
Don watched in horror as the pistol came up again. Charlie's eyes were wide, as if he were recalling that horrible night.
"Shut up, Leary!" Don said, leveling his gun at the killer. "Shut up!"
"I bet you dream about it every night. How he touched you, how he hurt you. Did he kiss you, Charlie? I bet that it felt so good, and at the same time, so horrible."
"Shut up!" Charlie said, the muzzle of his pistol suddenly pressing into Leary's temple. His entire body shook. He was about to fall apart.
"Charlie, don't listen to him!" Don said, stepping forward. He couldn't lose his brother, not like this. He realized that there was something worse than death, and that was the desecration of who Charlie was. His innocence, his love of peace, Leary was trying to take his brother away in the worst way possible.
"He's right, Don," Charlie said softly. "I do dream about it every night. I can't get it out of my head."
"Oh, Charlie," Don said, his heart twisting at the pain and sorrow in his little brother's eyes.
"I have tried so hard to tell myself that I've moved on. I really have tried. But I'm just… I'm just lying to myself, Don," Charlie, a tear slowly crawling down his cheek. "I'm never going to be the same. Leary took something away from me." Suddenly, his eyes hardened. "And his brother's going to give it back."
"Charlie, killing him is not the answer!" Don cried. Charlie didn't even look up.
"I don't care. I just want him to go away," he whispered, beginning to squeeze the trigger.
"Charlie, if you do this, I will kill myself!" Don yelled quickly, desperately. Charlie froze. He looked up at his older brother.
"Charlie, if you kill him, you will go to prison. For life. Charlie, I've visited a lot of prisons. I've talked to a lot of convicts. I know what they'd do to a guy like you. They'll… they'll do things just like what Leary did to you, and worse. I couldn't live knowing that you were enduring that, Charlie. I couldn't take it. I'd shoot myself."
The gun began to lower.
"Charlie, please," Don said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this. This isn't you. You aren't like this. You're so much stronger than this."
"Stronger? Stronger? I have been a weakling all my life. I was sheltered all my life, and yet I thought I was strong. I thought I knew everything. But I was weak!" He spat out the last word, his gun hand trembling dangerously.
"No, Charlie, you aren't stronger now. You think because you have a gun, you're strong? If that's the case, then that bastard on the floor can be strong. But he can't be, Charlie. He will always be weak, because he thinks his knife or his gun makes him strong."
Leary glared at Don. His attempts to manipulate Charlie were failing against Don's love for his brother.
"Charlie, I want the real you back. I want the brother who loves to play with numbers, who doesn't believe in guns. I want the brother who brings justice in a way I could never do, by using numbers and amazing intellect. I want the brother who looks at me with admiration and not desperation. I just want you back. I love you, bro," Don said.
Charlie blinked rapidly, vainly fighting against the tears. Suddenly, he was aware of everything around him. His stomach fluttering, his hands trembling, and the tears streaming down his face. Leary's fists clenched tightly, Don staring at his brother intently, the sound of distant sirens outside. He blinked, as if returning to reality.
He felt the cold metal in his hand and looked down. How had he gotten a gun?
"Charlie, please," Don whispered.
Charlie just stared at the gun, horrible thoughts running through his head. He had almost killed a man. He had almost sent himself to prison. He had almost ruined his brother's life.
He threw the gun away from himself, disgusted. He put his hands to his head, stepping away from Leary.
"What have I done?" Charlie whispered to himself. He glanced up, and saw his older brother. A tear was slowly making its way down his face, but Don was smiling.
"No!" Leary shouted. Suddenly, Don caught sight of a glint of metal in Leary's hand. A knife!
Bartholomew Leary leapt at Don, screaming in inchoate anger as Charlie watched helplessly.
"Don!"
Don had no choice but to fire. The bullet caught Leary in the shoulder, throwing him backwards. He landed hard on the floor, his eyes rolling with agony.
Training kicked in as Don rushed over to the murderer and stripped him of his weapon. He rolled him onto his stomach, just as police cars pulled up to the Eppes house outside.
"Bartholomew Leary, you're under arrest for the rape and murders of Jenna Sanders, Krystal Olivine, Dana Klein, Angela Ramos, Molly Hill, Helene White, Flora Peterson, Nicole Raleigh, Ellen Thompson, Robert Turner, Alice Wilson, Lois Cott, and Terry Lake. You're also under arrest for the assault of Charlie Eppes. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Not that it matters, you're pretty much fucked anyway," Don said while handcuffing the man. "I hope you rot in hell."
"Don," Charlie said softly. Don looked up and smiled at his brother.
"I'm alright." Charlie rushed forward, and embraced him tightly.
"I love you, Donnie," he whispered.
"I love you too," Don said, a little awkward. It had been a long time since the brothers had embraced. "It's over."
One week later...
He watched her exit the center, searching for her car keys. She laughed quietly to herself, slightly amused by her inability to find them.
"Erin," Charlie called out, catching the young psychologist's attention. She looked up and smiled.
"Can I help you?" She asked. Even when not working, she seemed so willing to help.
"Yes, you can. I'm Charlie Eppes."
"Oh, Charlie!" She said. "I'm so sorry; I didn't recognize you for a second. How are you doing?"
"Well, that's what I want to talk to you about. I want to start having sessions again. I think I'm ready to talk." Erin's smile brightened.
"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."
"Why?" Charlie asked, confused.
"It takes courage to do what you just did. You just admitted that there's something you can't face alone. You are willing to go on that narrow road I told you about. You're ready to face your pain and conquer it. You have a strong heart, Charlie."
"I don't feel very strong right now," Charlie admitted. Erin put a comforting hand on his arm.
"Nobody feels strong. But I can see strength in you. It's the same as your father's."
Charlie smiled. He had never received such a compliment.
"So when can I start sessions?" Erin glanced at her watch.
"How about right now?"
"Are you sure?"
"The sooner you start on this road, Charlie, the sooner you'll heal."
One more to go, and no more cliff hangers. I will be redoing some of the chapters, thanks to wonderful constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!