A/N: Many thanks for the reviews! Here's 12...
Chapter 12
Don walked slowly up the stairs, turned left and paced to the door that led to the solarium, and took a deep breath. He was more nervous about the pending conversation than he ever had been in his job, even when facing the business end of a gun barrel. He was well aware that how he delivered his message could mean the difference between Charlie believing him or not. "Don't screw this up," he breathed to himself; then he knocked lightly on the door.
There was no sound from the other side, and he tried the knob. The door was unlocked but the solarium was dark, and Don's first thought was that Charlie was asleep. He pushed the door open a little wider, stepped in and let it drift shut behind him as he walked quietly up the short flight of steps. At the top of them, he stopped. Charlie was awake – he was standing over by the windows, facing Don – his body illuminated from behind by the silver moonlight and street light that filtered through the window. Don couldn't see his expression; that same light threw his face into shadow. Don took a step sideways and clicked on a small antique lamp that sat on a table. It sent dim yellow light into the room, which faded to sepia beyond a few feet.
It was enough light to see Charlie, however, to see his arms crossed protectively in front of him, to see the tension in his body and the pain and anger and hurt and wariness in his eyes. If I fail at this, Don thought to himself, that's the look I'll get from him, forever. They stared at each other for a moment from across the room in the dim light. The silence was thick; charged with emotion.
"Charlie," Don said finally. "I need to talk to you."
Charlie didn't move or speak, but Don forged on. "I need to tell you a story." He took a deep breath. "A long, long time ago, one night after you and Amita came in to the office – right after that first case you worked on with me – I dropped you both off at home afterward. I dropped you off first, and when I dropped Amita off at her door, I kissed her."
He saw Charlie flinch, lean forward slightly and saw his arms tighten around his body as if he was in pain, and then he turned away to stare out the window. Don's throat tightened, but he continued. "I admit, I was mildly attracted to her back then – but it was long before you two were dating, or even before I suspected you were interested in her. I looked at a lot of women back then – she wasn't unique, and the attraction was no more than that – a mild interest in a pretty woman. The kiss was brief – experimental, I guess. I wasn't even attracted enough to pursue anything further after that, and as soon as I realized you were interested in her, I put it out of my mind completely. That was years ago, and I frankly had forgotten all about it, until recently."
There was no response from Charlie; the silence was palpable. Don took a breath and continued. "It would have stayed forgotten, except for Amita. The other night, the evening you were supposed to come to my apartment, she showed up first. She said she had a project that she had started that she wanted me to look at. I thought it was odd that she showed up at my apartment instead of the office, but then I thought that maybe you both had made plans to go out after you came over. I was getting a really strange vibe from her, but I told myself I was being stupid and rude, and let her in. I went in to my bedroom to hang up my jacket, and when I came out she was standing at the end of the hallway that led to the living room, smiling at me."
He paused again, looking for some response from Charlie, but he remained turned away, his thin frame hunched slightly, motionless except for the expansion and contraction of his chest, which was somewhat exaggerated – he was breathing deeply, obviously trying to keep his emotions in check.
"I tried to get around her, but she wouldn't budge, and then she told me that she was in love with me."
Charlie made a small choking sound, and Don paused and swallowed. "I was shocked. I asked her if it was some kind of joke, and she got upset. She told me no – that she was in love with me and she was sure I was in love with her, and reminded me about that kiss. Then she told me that she was sure that if we kissed again, I would remember how I felt about her – and if we kissed and I still didn't feel anything, she would drop it all and go away."
Don stared at Charlie, and took a couple of steps forward. "Charlie – I still don't know exactly why I didn't move when she first kissed me. I was so stunned that I wasn't thinking straight. My gut reaction was to push her away – I actually put my hands on her shoulders to push her back, but she was wearing those ridiculous heels, and I was afraid she'd fall. And another part of me was saying, "Okay, if I just stand there like a board and I don't kiss her back, she'll get this crazy idea out of her head" – just like she said, she would drop it and go away. So I stood there, for just a second or two while those thoughts went through my head – but I did not kiss her back. That is what you saw, when you opened the door. Her kissing me, and me frozen in place – it was completely one-sided."
He paused. "I didn't know that you had seen that, not right away. It was only seconds, and then I was starting to get over the shock, starting to get angry, and I grabbed her arms so she wouldn't fall and pushed her away and told her that it should be obvious now that there was nothing there, and to get the hell out of my apartment. Then she told me that you had been there. Charlie –," Don could feel tears threatening, and his voice cracked. "That was the worst moment of my life. All I could think of was that you had to have misinterpreted what you saw, and how much that must have hurt you. How much I had hurt you. I ran downstairs after you, but you were already tearing out of the parking lot. I tried to catch you at home, but you were already gone. I've been looking for you, wanting to tell you what happened, ever since."
Charlie bowed his head and lifted one hand to his face, and Don stepped closer, nearly to his side. His brother had his hand covering his eyes, but Don could see tears glistening on his cheeks; and with Charlie facing that way the tears were silver instead of sepia, illuminated by moonlight coming through the window. That light seemed cold and harsh, at odds with the warm glow behind them.
Don spoke again, and as Charlie realized how near he was, he shifted slightly sideways, away from him. "I tried to think back to see if there was anything I might have done to lead her on; if there were any clues leading up to this. I talked to Robin about it – I told her everything, and she agreed that Amita was acting strangely at dinner the last night we all went out. Robin said that she was pretty quiet, and that when she did talk it was only to me –that Amita ignored you and Robin. Then when you brought her to the office that day, she kept moving closer to me – I think now she was flirting, but I didn't get it. I'm usually pretty in tune to that, but it just never occurred to me in her case. When she showed up at my apartment that evening, the whole thing completely blindsided me. That is the only thing I have to say in my defense, Charlie. I hesitated; I was slow to act because I was shocked and didn't think it through. I thought afterward that I should have just pushed her away immediately, and if she went down, then she went down. It would have been no more than she deserved."
He paused. "Charlie, I am so, so sorry. Please believe me; I would never do anything like that to you. You mean way too much to me. I realize that your perception of what happened is probably a lot different, and that it might be hard to believe my story. The only other thing I have to convince you is a phone call she made to me when I was driving up to Watsonville, after I found out where you were. I recorded the conversation." He pulled his phone out, pulled up the recording, and hit play.
His voice, and Amita's, filled the room.
"Eppes."
"Hi Don, it's Amita. I hadn't heard from you. Can you talk?" At the sound of Amita's voice Charlie stiffened but he didn't move; he still stood in place, bowed slightly, with one arm across his middle and the thumb and forefinger of the other hand on his forehead, shading his eyes.
"There's nothing to talk about – unless you want to talk about how you're going to apologize – to Charlie, to me, to Robin, to my dad, and anyone else you've dragged through hell in the past few days."
"Wow, that's a little harsh. All I was trying to do was show you how I feel. I didn't mean to hurt Charlie, and I sure didn't mean to hurt you – I thought you felt the same way."
"On what grounds? I'm engaged to Robin – what in hell made you think that?"
"You know why – that first kiss we had. You can't tell me you weren't attracted to me – you kissed me."
"Amita, that was way before you and Charlie were dating – it was years ago. I, frankly, had forgotten about it. Why would you think it was appropriate to go back to something that happened years ago and suddenly try to make it relevant? It's not – it means nothing to me now, and it meant nothing then. And you say you didn't mean to hurt Charlie? Are you kidding me? I'm on my way up to him now – he's been gone for three days, holed up in some place nearly drinking himself to death. Not that you apparently seem to care."
"I know it's unfortunate for him, but I can't help how he feels. He and I aren't right for each other – you and I are. And why do you care so much about him, all of a sudden? You two never got along that well. He's odd, and annoying, and you know it. He'll get over it. You can't let him dictate your relationships – you can't let him stand in our way."
"Amita, you just don't get it. I. Am. Not. Interested. In. You. And Charlie isn't standing in my way – he'll be there to stand by me when I marry the woman I love: Robin. Drop the bullshit, and work on your own marriage. Although if you do try to go back to Charlie after this, you sure won't have my support. If this is how you view a lifelong commitment, he's better off without you. And am I picking him over you? Damn right I am. Don't call me again."
"I need to see you. You'll change your mind – you know you will -,"
The call ended, cutting off Amita's tearful entreaty, and the recording stopped. Don put his phone back in his pocket. "Charlie – please – say something. Say you believe me, say you don't – hit me – I don't care – please -,"
There was a long pause, and then Charlie said, "I believe you." The words were choked, and Charlie still didn't turn to face him, still didn't remove his hand from his face – he was struggling to control his emotions. It seemed as though the words broke the last vestiges of his self-control, and the thin shoulders began to shake. Don closed the last step between them and put his arm around him and breathed a prayer of thanks when Charlie didn't pull away. Suddenly, Charlie did just the opposite; he turned and hugged him, hard, desperately. Don could feel his tears dampening his shirt, and he hugged him back as Charlie tried to stifle a sob. Don's own eyes were tearing again – just like on the beach, when Charlie had collapsed – the sight of him in such pain evoked pain of its own, but it was tempered by a surge of relief. "Thank God," he thought.
Charlie finally let go and backed away, head down, wiping his face, and started talking, and he choked out through sobs, "I just don't understand what happened. She's been drifting away for weeks, and I couldn't stop it. Why is she doing this? I don't understand any of it." He finally dropped his hand from his face and looked up, apparently past the point where he cared about Don seeing him cry, the pain and bewilderment apparent in his face.
Don gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, and said sadly, "I don't know, Charlie. People do crazy things when they are in love, or when they think they are, so it's hard to tell – but Charlie, has she seemed okay to you, otherwise?"
Charlie ran a hand across his face, and blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Don said carefully, dropping his arm and facing Charlie, "has she been acting rationally?"
Charlie stared at him; Don could see him thinking. "I'm not sure," Charlie said slowly. He began to talk, the words coming faster as realization dawned. "She has been doing some strange things, out of the blue – like eating red meat, and a few weeks back, she started hanging out a dive bar with some people – I don't know who they are. She started drinking, and I think maybe she started smoking – I know she smelled like smoke when she came back at night from the bar. I just thought she was dissatisfied with our marriage – with her life – that maybe she was regretting getting married, and looking for space, or freedom, or something. I tried to talk to her about it, but she got upset when I did. The last night, she came in drunk, and when I suggested that we talk she screamed at me, then hit me with a lamp. She was hysterical."
It was Don's turn to stare. "She hit you with a lamp?"
Charlie nodded. "I think she cracked some ribs. I went and slept in the solarium that night, and when I got up the next morning, I went into the bedroom to talk to her, hoping she had sobered up. She had gone, but she left the annulment papers." A shadow flitted over his face. "That was when I called you."
Don's first inclination was to ask him why he hadn't told him about all of this, but then remembered that Charlie had tried, at least once, although belatedly, from the sound of it. He frowned. "Charlie – I think that maybe she needs some help. All of this sounds so completely out of character – maybe it's just emotional stress, like you thought, but maybe it's something more serious. It sounds like she should be checked out by a doctor."
Charlie took in a deep breath and looked at him – revelation and worry replacing the sadness in his face. "I need to find her, and talk to her," he said urgently.
"Do you know where she is?"
Charlie's face fell. "No. The only place I can think of is Petey's." He looked up at Don. "Can you give me a lift over there? My car's still in Watsonville. You don't have to come in – you can just wait outside if you want."
Don frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Charlie."
"Maybe, but now I'm worried about her," said Charlie, his brow furrowed. "I think I need to at least see if she's all right. Have you talked to her since that phone call? She sounded really upset."
Don shook his head, firmly. "I blocked her. I'm not talking to her again, if I can help it."
Charlie fumbled for his own cell phone, brought up his contacts, and pressed the button for Amita. It had a picture of her face, smiling, and the sight of it turned Don's stomach. A message flickered on the screen, and Charlie's shoulders sagged. "She blocked me," he said. His look of concern deepened. "I really think I need to see her. And even if she seems okay, I still want to talk to her about what we do going forward. If it is really a mental health issue – maybe she can get help, medication, or something."
He didn't say it, but Don could read the renewed sense of purpose in his face, could see the hope in his eyes. He knew what Charlie was thinking – that there was perhaps a solid reason behind Amita's behavior, that maybe she could be treated; maybe they could save their relationship. Don knew it was worth a try, but he also had doubts. What if she was sane and all of her strange behavior was infatuation-induced? There was no treatment for that, other than marriage counseling – and it seemed that Amita had already made up her mind. And even if she was having some kind of mental health issue, what if she refused treatment – or it was unsuccessful? He was afraid that Charlie's hopes might be reawakening, only to be crushed. And especially tonight, facing her sounded like too much; Charlie looked thin and exhausted – still recovering from his ordeal. "Maybe you should just rest tonight, Charlie – maybe try to track her down tomorrow. She'll be on campus, right?"
Charlie shook his head. "No. Campus is no place for this conversation, and anyway, I don't want to wait that long. Maybe she won't be at Petey's tonight, but I'll bet someone there will know where she moved." He looked up at Don, resolutely. "If you won't take me, I'll ask Dad. I understand if you don't want to see her."
"No – I'll take you there if you want to go that badly. I can wait outside." 'It's the least I can do,' Don added, to himself. He was so damned glad that Charlie had accepted his story he would have jumped off a bridge if his brother had asked him.
Still, as they told their father where they were going – a very relieved-looking father to see them together – and walked out of the house, Don couldn't help but worry over Charlie's behavior. He had seemed to unconditionally accept Don's story, and had latched steadfastly to the idea that Amita might have a problem that could be fixed. He was desperate, on both counts – desperate for his relationship with Amita to be saved; desperate to have things as they were, including his relationship with his brother. It didn't seem healthy somehow – the fight they'd had on the front lawn years ago when Don had stolen Charlie's prom date somehow seemed more normal. Someday, when the dust settled on the final outcome of this and Charlie looked back on it, would he be so unconditionally accepting? Or would he feel that Don had capitalized on his emotional devastation; had coerced his forgiveness at a time when he was too upset to think rationally? As time passed, and in the cold light of reason, forgiveness might not be as forthcoming.
He stopped dead at the vehicle door when the thought hit him – Charlie hadn't actually said he'd forgiven him. He'd said that he believed him – there was a difference. Don fought down the uncomfortable thought; at least they were talking. That was half the battle. And that hug Charlie had given him had to mean something.
He got in the driver's seat as Charlie clipped his seat belt – now it was time for the other half of the battle – facing Amita. Don put the key in the ignition and glanced at Charlie as he did so. Charlie didn't look at him – he was looking forward, silent, his face set, composed now. Unreadable. Don frowned and put the SUV into gear, and headed toward the south side of Pasadena.
End, Chapter 12
A/N: Just when you think they are getting out of the woods, things take a turn for the worse… and I do mean worse.
