A/N: Thanks for the reviews, gang - they are so much appreciated, and spur me on.
See Disclaimer, Chapter 1
Bird Flu - Chapter 52
Alan heard cars doors slamming, and he looked out of the kitchen window to see Colby and David strolling into the back yard, making their way toward Charlie. He'd told Don to invite the team over after the day's proceedings, and he'd invited Larry and Amita himself. He knew Charlie was anxious for news of the trial, and he felt an instinctive need for the group to bond together during the tension-filled ordeal. Megan and Larry appeared in the yard also, and then he heard the door to the dining room push open behind him. 'Hey, Dad."
Alan turned, searching Don's face. "Donnie. How'd it go today?"
Don shrugged, his face impassive, but his eyes didn't meet his father's. "Okay. Opening statements took up most of it." He headed toward the refrigerator and opened it, scanning the contents.
"Beer's in a cooler outside," said Alan. He glanced out the window again, Colby and David had their jackets off already, ties loosened, and were talking to Charlie, who was looking at them anxiously. Jill and Liz were walking into the yard, along with Mike Shire. He turned back to Don. "So – it didn't go so well, then."
Don scowled, sighed, and dropped the pretense. "No. That asshole Parker started by accusing the Bureau of falsifying evidence. He called me a loose cannon, insinuated I purposely disfigured Morgan, and claimed that we're trying the wrong man."
"So, that's all just posturing, right?" said Alan heartily. "You've got a solid case."
"We do," admitted Don. "Although Randall Lee Parker can make a brick wall look like Swiss cheese. And he's right; a lot of our evidence is circumstantial. The DNA stuff is hard to get around, but if he can cast doubt on it – either by saying we screwed up on the handling, or by saying the presence of Morgan's DNA doesn't necessarily mean he was in a spot at the time of the murder – well, I don't know. He doesn't need to prove anything – all he has to do is cast doubt. If he can make them doubt any of that, it all boils down to one thing – Charlie's testimony." He looked at Alan. "This isn't exactly classified information – you could have heard it yourself if you'd gone today – but if you run across any media types, don't offer any of this, or any opinion."
Alan grunted. "I don't think I'll be running into any media here."
Don's face twisted wryly. "Don't count on it. It was crazy down at the courthouse today, and they're all looking for an angle. We've got an officer posted on the street, and he's already chased away two reporters."
Alan frowned, and looked out the window into the back yard again. Amita had appeared and was standing with Larry and Megan on the other side of the yard, as far away as she could get from Jill Cash. "Charlie was as nervous as a cat today; he spent the whole day pacing in front of the television set, flicking through the channels, looking for updates."
Don's eyes followed his out the window, in time to see Susan Raine enter the backyard. He raised his eyebrows, and looked at Alan. "Charlie invited his therapist?"
Alan flushed a little. "Actually, I did – I asked him first. He was okay with it."
Don stared at him, taking in his flustered appearance, and then grinned. "I thought you two seemed a little chummy at the hospital."
"We're just friends," Alan said firmly. "She's made it clear she won't enter into a relationship with a member of a patient's family, not that I asked her. She's just – an interesting person. Plus, she wanted a chance to see how Charlie was interacting with others."
Don gave him a skeptical look, but took pity on him and dropped the subject, and glanced out the window at Charlie. "Don't tell him what I just said to you – I told my team to sound upbeat when they talked to him. It's way too early to tell anything, anyway."
Alan looked back at him, anxiously. "You know, I noticed the officer on the street the other day, and I meant to ask you about that. Why is he there? You do think Morgan's the killer, right?"
Don nodded; his eyes steady. "Yeah, I was convinced the minute Charlie ID'd him. We think Morgan's a loner and has been operating by himself, but we can't be too careful." Alan paled at the thought of an accomplice, and Don hastened to reassure him. "Mostly though, it's to keep the press at a distance. This is going to get pretty nuts, Dad, make no mistake." He glanced out the window. "I'm gonna head out."
Alan turned and handed him a platter of uncooked hamburger patties. "Here, make yourself useful and bring these out to the grill. I'll be right out."
"Thanks for doing this, Dad – it was a great idea, good for morale. The team really appreciates it – I can reimburse you - ,"
"Nonsense," scoffed Alan. "They aren't team, they're family. And anyway, I think it's good for Charlie. He needs to come out of his shell, starting dealing with people again, and it's best if he does that with friends, don't you think?"
Don glanced out the window again, and saw Charlie making his way – alone – to the koi pond. Apparently, even socializing with friends was a bit too much for him, at this point. "Yeah," he said quietly. "You're probably right."
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Jill Cash made her way across the back yard, to the solitary figure on the bench near the pond. After talking with Colby and David, Charlie had separated himself from the group, and had gone to sit by himself. The rest of them were chatting easily, drifting around the yard, and Jill figured none of them had noticed that he was sitting alone. She was wrong, she realized; as she began to walk toward him, she saw Amita's eyes following her.
Charlie saw her, and stood as she approached. He looked tired, and the beer hanging from his hand was still nearly full; he was apparently only holding it for appearances. "Hey," she said brightly. "How are you doing?"
He offered her just a wisp of a smile. "All right. I heard it went okay today."
She nodded. "Yeah, okay. Parker spouted some bull, but nothing more than we would have expected. They just did opening statements, pretty much, then Phelps entered some stuff into evidence to prepare for tomorrow." She made light of it, purposely, she would have even if she hadn't gotten the lecture from Don.
"That's what Don said." His eyes drifted over her shoulder, and she glanced backward. Amita. He was looking at Amita. She sighed. She was never one to beat around the bush, and she had to know.
"Are you two – uh, serious?"
"What?" Charlie looked confused, and Jill realized he didn't know she'd seen his glance at Amita – they'd been talking about Don.
"Amita. I saw the way you looked at her – you really like her, don't you?"
Charlie's gaze traveled back to Amita, and then he looked down at the koi pond, and sighed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I don't know where it's going, though."
Jill fought the urge to shoot another glance over her shoulder, and felt a little glimmer of hope. "Oh, yeah?" she said casually. "Why's that?"
"I don't know," he sighed. "We've been dating for a couple of years, and were getting pretty serious, or at least I thought so, but she met a guy when she was over in India – she said it was nothing; that he didn't mean anything, but…I think she's still here because of what happened to me. I think when things are back to normal, and I'm on my feet – well, I just don't know if she'll stick around."
Jill felt her heart drop. So that was the story. The boy might be a genius, she thought, but when it came to reading women, he needed remedial classes. There was no doubt in her mind that Amita was serious about him; it was his feelings for Amita that had made Jill wonder. Now she knew – Charlie did care about Amita, deeply. Jill had walked into what now appeared to be a long-term serious relationship, and had misread the signs. As disheartening as that was, she cared too much for Charlie to stand in the way of something that might help heal him, if he'd let it. She swallowed hard. "I think you couldn't be farther from the truth," she said.
Charlie looked at her, skepticism on his face, and she continued. "Look, I'm shooting myself in the foot, here, because to be honest, I was interested in you myself."
If the situation wasn't so damned disappointing, she might have laughed at the dumb look of surprise on his face. As it was, she smiled ruefully, and shook her head. He really was clueless. "I wouldn't worry – I think it's pretty obvious how she feels about you. If you don't give her a chance, I'd say you're nuts." She felt a bit of moisture creeping into her eyes – damn it – and she smiled bravely. "But if it shouldn't work out for some reason, look me up. And in the meantime, I'm hoping we can be friends."
"I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't realize -," but she cut him off by leaning forward, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, and walked away, her head held high. Cheeks flaming, eyes bright with emotion, she went to stand next to Mike Shire, who was keeping Alan company at the grill. Mike was standing in front of the cooler, and looked at her quizzically as she approached. "Hey, Mike," she said softly, smiling through gritted teeth, "fish me out a beer, will you? I think I need one."
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Don saw Jill Cash walk away from Charlie, and was about to extricate himself from a conversation with Colby and David and go talk to him, when the sound of car doors slamming out on the street brought his head around. From where Colby was standing, he could see around the corner of the house, and he looked at Don and said, "You invited Wright and Phelps?"
Don frowned. "No." He felt his stomach tighten – Wright and Phelps had no idea that Don and his team would be here, and so that meant one thing – they were here to talk to Charlie. He moved around Colby and intercepted the men as they came around the house, like a one-man welcoming committee – only without the welcome. "Gentlemen. Can I help you?" He planted himself squarely in front of them, effectively stalling their progress, his casual grip on his beer at odds with the obstinate set of his shoulders. They'd planned to corner his brother, alone, without him here, he realized, and the thought made him angry.
They exchanged a glance, and Wright spoke. "Actually, I'm glad you're here, Don. We don't want to interrupt the party -,"
"It's no problem," said Alan, amiably, strolling up in his apron. "It's not a party – just a little morale-booster. You're welcome to stay."
'Shut up, Dad,' Don thought, with a tight polite smile. 'They're not here on a social call.' He glanced nervously at Charlie, who was heading their direction, his eyes dark with apprehension. The rest of the group was also starting to congregate around them, drifting forward to hear the conversation.
Phelps cut straight to the point. "The A.D. and I have been having a discussion. In spite of the amount of evidence we have, we think this trial is going to rely heavily on show and appearances – Parker is going to take it there, whether we want him to, or not. We need to do our best to counter."
Charlie had joined the group as he spoke. Everyone knew what was coming, and they glanced at Charlie – everyone but Alan, who appeared puzzled, and Susan Raine, who was staring at Phelps and Wright suspiciously. Phelps continued. "We need Charlie in the courtroom. We think his appearance alone will do a lot to generate sympathy from the jurors."
Alan's smile faded, and Don spoke up sharply. "And I think we can do without that."
Wright looked at Don sternly. "That's not your call, and it's not all. We need him to testify."
Charlie had turned pale, and Amita instinctively moved to his side. Without looking at her, his hand found hers, almost absently. The contact seemed to give him some strength, and he straightened. She felt a rush of relief that he even sought her hand, but it was dampened by the realization that he was trembling.
The thought terrified him, but Charlie had suspected it might be coming. As he watched them exchange glares, he thought, 'At least they could have the courtesy to ask me.' "I'm right here," he managed. No one looked at him.
Susan Raine spoke up, addressing Wright, her jaw set stubbornly. "And I say he's in no condition to handle that yet."
Wright frowned at her. "If he doesn't, we run the risk of this maniac getting off. I think it's in your patient's best interest to pre-empt that, don't you?"
Amita glanced at Charlie, worriedly. He looked stunned, almost in shock, but he managed to find his voice. "It's okay, I'll do it."
"I don't buy it," Don said, ignoring him. "We just started the trial – we don't even know how it will play out yet."
"I'll do it," insisted Charlie.
"I'll tell you how it will play out," Phelps said to Don, with irritation. "Did you see the look on the jury's face today? Parker's already got them eating out of his hand." He went on, but his voice was lost in a cacophony of arguments, as Don, Susan Raine, and Alan all chimed in at once, and Wright joined the fray.
"SHUT UP!" Charlie's voice rose above the din, the group stopped, open mouthed, and stared at him, and he looked back at them. He appeared terrified, but he spoke resolutely. "I said, I'll do it. Excuse me."
He put his head down and made for the house on unsteady legs, and the group watched him go, except for Alan, who hurried after him. Charlie fumbled for the knob and made it into the kitchen, and knew then he wasn't going to make it. He grabbed the trashcan and vomited, heaving several times, and finally backed away from the receptacle, swaying; then his knees buckled and he went down hard on them, barely feeling Alan's comforting hand on his shoulder.
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End Chapter 52
