Disclaimer: Apart from the fact that I don't own Numb3rs or its characters, this little piece of fiction also contains theories that are not my own. Seriously, as sad as it is, I did not make them up.
Rating: T
Timeline: season 4 (refers specifically to 2-22 "Backscatter" and 4-10 "Breaking Point", so SPOILERS for these two episodes)
A/N: Thank you so much for your positive response to W! Fair warning: I'm having some trouble with Y, and if I ever finish it, it'll probably be a repetition of themes we've already encountered in this ABC. So please, just try to enjoy X :)
Xenophobia
"Did you ask the LAPD for assistance on the gang murders?" Megan asked with surprise in her voice.
Don frowned, but didn't take his eyes off the coroner's report he was reading. "No, why?"
"Because Gary Walker is here."
At that, Don turned around and indeed spotted the LAPD lieutenant coming towards their cubicle.
He stood and when he stretched out his hand, a smile spread across his face, despite Gary's ever-so-grim features.
"Hey, it's good to see you, Gary!" he greeted the older man. "What brings you here?"
"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Gary replied, his voice matching his face. "Have you been working with your brother lately?"
Don's frown was back. Somehow, he didn't like the way Gary had linked his little brother with the words 'nothing good'. "He's been helping us out on something gang-related. Why?"
"Well, I just got called to CalSci, case of battery. When I arrived, it turned out that the victim was none other than Charlie. He's been beaten to a pulp, they rushed him to the hospital."
Don was staring at Gary, waiting for him to go on, to say something that would clear things up, for Don was almost sure that he'd just gotten him wrong.
"What did you just say, Charlie was attacked?"
Strange. So David had come to the same conclusion. Wouldn't that suggest that despite everything, he had indeed heard right?
"I need to go see him," Don said and searched his desk for his car keys before he realized they were in his jacket pocket. This was weird. It didn't seem real somehow, he just couldn't imagine that this was really happening, that he was rushing to the hospital because someone had just decided, out of the blue, to beat up his little brother.
Then again, when he remembered Gary's earlier words and the realization hit that this might not be as out of the blue after all, a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach that made one thing clear: this was too nasty and too detailed an imagination to stem from hallucination, so this had to be real.
"Relax, Eppes," Gary stopped him when Don tried to do the right thing and get to his brother right away. "He's fine, I spoke to him. Or maybe fine is not the right word, for they're suspecting a concussion, but he was rather coherent, more coherent anyway than when he's pulling up those math tricks of his. Guess it has its perks being as hardheaded as he is. Anyway, you'll be of greater help to him by figuring out who did this than by sitting at his bedside."
"So what did he say?" Colby joined the conversation while Don stood there for another second staring at Gary before he let himself fall back into his chair. He could feel his energy leaving him and in an attempt to get it back, to get his focus back, he ran his hands over his face, trying to hide their trembling.
Gary shrugged and crossed his arms before his chest. "Nothing much. Apparently, there were three of them. They pulled him into some kind of recess near the parking lot where they could be pretty sure not to be seen."
"But why?" Megan asked. "What did they want from him?"
"Well, my guess is that we're looking at some sort of retaliation. Let's face it, Charlie's been messing around in a damn lot of criminal cases, and he's kind of an easy target. Actually, I'm a little surprised it took that long for something like this to happen. I mean, he's been threatened before, just think of our first case together about Koverchenko and his mobster friends. It was only a matter of time before someone would decide not to stop at mere threats."
"Like they did in the Bonnie Parks case a couple of weeks ago," Colby added grimly, and Don tried to hide his face deeper in his hands, bending forward and trying to shut out their awful words, trying to breathe. This couldn't be happening, right? Ever since Charlie had become involved in Don's work, Don had been adamant to do everything in his power to keep him away from the actual action, to keep him safe. There was no way that he'd been attacked just because he'd been helping him out on a case, right?
And yet, hadn't that already happened before, hardly a month ago?
"Anyway, I think we're looking at something a little more complicated than a couple of students trying to vent on their anger. Which still leaves us with an awful lot of suspects."
Don took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He was massaging the bridge of his nose, he could feel a head-ache coming, and if he could have made his mind stop producing thoughts, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second. He couldn't, though. They were coming at him, assailing him, all shouting at him that this was his fault, that he was the one who had put his little brother in this position.
"What about Charlie himself, can he tell us anything about them?" he heard Megan ask. "Was he able to describe them?"
Don bit his lip and forced himself to pay attention. He could blame himself later, for now, he needed to do something about this. If he was the one to have gotten his brother hurt, the least he could do was figure out who had done this to him and bring them to justice, so he had better put his head in the game.
"Not really. Apparently they were all fairly big, fairly fit muscular types, but since they grabbed him from behind and immediately held him down, I doubt he can say a damn lot more about them. Besides, they were wearing masks. One thing is curious, though, they carved a swastika on his chest, but I guess that was merely to create a diversion."
Despite his newly-made resolution of being professional about this, Don's head came up, and instead of analyzing the information he'd just been given with cold, hard reason, he was still hung up on what he'd thought he'd heard. "They did what?"
"I don't think it was very deep, but I could see the pattern clearly on his chest, it was definitely a swastika."
Don was shaking his head. He could see it, too, in his imagination, and it was making him sick. "Why would someone do something like that?"
"As I said, I think it's merely a diversion to keep us from figuring out the true reason. Then again, I also think it's weird that they didn't do their homework. I mean, if they go to the length of covering up the real reason for the attack, then why choose something so specific that doesn't even fit? I mean, Charlie's not black, he's not Jewish, and he's not a homosexual. I'm not sure on what else prevents you from being a perfect, pure-blood Aryan, but I'm thinking we covered the most basic ones and ruled them out."
Don frowned. "Well, no, we didn't. I mean, we are Jewish."
Gary's eye-brows went up. "You are? I didn't know that." He was silent for a while, but Don could see he was thinking, so he let him do that until he reached his verdict. "I still can't see it, though. I, for my part, have known Charlie for almost two years now, and I've never picked up on him being Jewish. I don't suppose he's particularly pious, is he?"
Don shook his head. "I'm not even sure he believes in God."
"So we're still stuck with figuring out who might have had a reason to hurt him. You think it might have something to do with the gangbangers' case you mentioned?"
Don shrugged, unwilling to think about this, yet knowing it couldn't be helped. "I guess it's possible," he admitted and was silent for a second, noticing that his colleagues were silent as well, apparently waiting for him to return to his role as a leader. And damn it, that was what he should be doing, what he should have done minutes ago.
"I think we should talk to Charlie again, maybe he remembers something else. Colby, you and I should head to the hospital. David, I want you to go to CalSci and take a look at the security tapes and maybe see if someone saw or heard anything, and Megan, you should talk to forensics and build a profile."
When his team nodded and set to work, Don thought that despite all the mistakes he may have committed over the last couple of years, despite everything he may have done to wrong his brother, at least with this decision, he hadn't messed up too badly.
Colby briefly turned his head when, with a sigh, Don pocketed his cell-phone.
"How did your dad take the news?" he asked with some caution while he brought the car to a stop in front of a red light. He had to admit, he didn't like the look on Don's face. Even worse, he knew that look, he'd seen it before, after Charlie had been attacked due to his involvement in the Bonnie Parks case. He remembered clearly how Don had been beating himself up about that, and the fact that now, not even a month after that event, something similar would happen…
"Well, he's not happy," Don's voice brought him back before he could finish the thought. "I mean, I told him that Charlie's fine and that he should drive carefully, but honestly, we don't know that, all we know is that he was conscious when Gary arrived at the scene."
Colby was silent, not knowing how to cheer Don up and frankly, not even knowing whether cheering him up was what was called for, not before they'd seen Charlie themselves. Then again, cheering him up couldn't hurt, for Colby clearly remembered the expression on Don's face before he'd called his father to tell him about what they'd learned, and if someone had ever looked as though they were being sent to slaughter, it was Don.
"He's going to be fine, you'll see," he finally chose to reply and told himself that they would find out soon enough.
It was another couple of tense and mostly silent minutes before they had reached the hospital and found Charlie's room. Don knocked softly and entered, and all of a sudden, Colby was feeling a little out of place. Maybe he should leave the brothers alone for a moment? Then again, Don himself had asked him to come with him, and even though Colby wasn't technically family, he felt as though Charlie was somehow part of the team, which was basically nothing else than some other sort of family, right? Besides, he'd rather see for himself that Charlie was okay instead of waiting for Don's report.
They stepped into the room. Colby had to admit, he was a little apprehensive. Charlie didn't show any reaction to their entrance, and few moments later, Colby realized that he was sleeping. This didn't seem right somehow, he felt more than ever like stepping over a boundary.
In the meanwhile, Don had sat down on the chair next to Charlie's bed, and Colby chose a compromise by staying in the room, yet maintaining his distance, standing at the end of Charlie's bed.
He swallowed. Damn, he was looking beat, even while sleeping. And the thick bandage wrapped around his head like a turban, that might otherwise have seemed comical, made the effect even worse.
"Hey," Don said softly and laid a hand on his brother's. There was some twitching on Charlie's face, and eventually, his eye-lids fluttered open. He was squinting, even though the room was only dimly lit, and it took him a second to get his bearings.
"Wha' happened?" he asked then, his voice croaky and so low that Colby had to strain his ears to hear him. It was slow, too, it was apparently taking him a lot of strength to talk, strength he currently didn't possess.
"You don't remember?" Don asked and Colby could have sworn he'd heard a tremble in his voice.
Charlie closed his eyes, but the frown on his face remained. "I was attacked," he then said, his eyes still closed.
Don nodded. "Gary told us what happened. How are you feeling?"
"Bad," came Charlie's soft and unusually blunt reply. He struggled to open his eyes again when he asked, "Gary?"
"He came to the office earlier and told us what you told him," Don explained. "So now we're trying to find who did this to you, and we were wondering whether maybe you remembered anything else about them."
"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked. The words came out a little clearer now, but there was a look of insecurity on his face that it almost hurt Colby to see. "What Gary?"
Don turned his head to exchange a worried glance with Colby.
"Gary Walker," he then said slowly, and Colby was hit by the thought that Charlie had better not be messing with them. The next moment, he decided that both he and Don would probably prefer being messed with. "From the LAPD. You remember him?"
Charlie was still frowning. "Of course. But I haven't spoken to him in weeks."
Again, there was some hesitation before Don had found something to reply. "He told us you said there had been three of them," he then said, still slowly, and Colby could hear the concern in his voice – and the strain being put there by fighting down his rising panic. "That they pulled you into a recess, and that they were wearing masks."
"How do you know that?" Charlie asked, and while his voice still sounded no bit stronger than before, the desperation and fear in it had definitely increased.
"Gary told us," Don repeated and Colby could tell how much it was asking of him to remain calm and patient. "You spoke to him."
"I didn't," Charlie objected, but it sounded more like a question. "I would know if I did, right?" he asked, and finally, it clicked in Colby's mind.
"Anterograde amnesia," he said and was glad he could finally make a contribution to justifying his presence in the room. "It happens with concussions."
Charlie, however, didn't seem happy with the solution. "You're messing with me, right?" he said. "You're just making this up."
"I wish I were, buddy," Don said. He was silent for a moment, but then seemed to realize that none of them could change the fact that Charlie had obviously suffered some sort of memory loss. What remained was finding out how severe the memory loss was. "So what do you remember after the attack?"
Charlie was still looking distraught. "I..." he started as though he was about to give them a statement, but didn't go on. Colby could see his distress deepen, and he was about to say something to calm him down, not really knowing what, when Charlie went on. "Nothing," he said, his voice almost cracking. "I don't remember anything until they examined me here."
He had his big eyes on his brother as though he could find his memory there, but all he got was the sympathetic look in Don's eyes. "It's okay, buddy," Don said, but Colby could tell that he was almost as distraught about this as Charlie. And it was a rather upsetting thought to just miss several hours of one's life – especially for someone like Charlie, who was usually relying so much on his mind's efficiency.
"Is there anything you remember about the attack?" Don went on cautiously, and Colby noticed he'd taken Charlie's hand again, although he wasn't sure whether Don himself was aware of that.
"I..." Charlie started again and frowned, but Colby could tell it was a different frown than before. The distress on his face was lessening instead of increasing. "I do. I… I think I remember everything."
"So what happened?" Colby asked while Don was busy hiding his relieved sigh.
Charlie gave them an account then that pretty much equaled what Gary had told them earlier – and that he'd probably already given once before, to the lieutenant.
"Anything else? You remember what they were wearing?"
"They all had dark hoodies," Charlie said, thinking. "One of them was wearing camo trousers and some sort of boots, the other two dark jeans and sneakers, I think. But I didn't see anything standing out." Suddenly, there was a new expression on Charlie's face, a certain alertness that hadn't been there before. "I scratched one of them!"
"What?" Don asked, and Colby drew nearer. If Charlie was saying what he thought he was saying, this was sounding promising, so promising that he didn't want to miss any of it.
"I scratched one of them, at his arm. It might be enough for a DNA test."
Colby and Don were inspecting Charlie's other hand, the right one, and found that there were indeed traces of something that might be human skin under the nails of his index and middle finger. "It's definitely worth a try," Don decided. "I'll send someone from forensics over, just make sure not to wash your hands until we get him here."
Charlie gave a careful nod.
"Those traces might get us somewhere," Colby then said, "but we should still cover all our angles. So is there anything else you noticed about them? Like tattoos, piercings, jewelry?"
Charlie thought, then made a slight shaking movement with his head. "No," he said, and Colby could tell that after the small adrenaline spike when he'd remembered the possible DNA sample, he was growing tired again fast. They had to continue the interview though, they couldn't help it, not if they wanted to find these guys as soon as possible.
"Did they say anything to you, or to each other?"
"They called me names," Charlie said, slurring the words a little. He was really looking as though he could use a nap.
"What names?" Don asked, thereby showing that despite Charlie's exhaustion, he was still of the same opinion as Colby, that they needed to get to the bottom of this rather sooner than later.
"I don't know, they didn't really make sense. I think one of them was 'filthy Jew', and the other one was 'rotary slut'."
Colby frowned. "Rotary? You're not actually a member of the Rotary Club, are you?"
This time, Colby could only guess that Charlie was trying to shake his head. "No. I told you, they didn't really make sense."
"Which strengthens Gary's idea that all this is just a cover-up for something else entirely," Don said and was silent for a moment, obviously thinking. "Have you ever been personally threatened?" he then asked.
"Mmh?"
Colby winced, and he could see the same expression on Don's face. Charlie was drifting off, and they should probably let him. They couldn't do that though, not yet.
"Come on, buddy, it's just a couple more questions, I promise. We just need to get started on this as soon as we can."
"'Kay," Charlie agreed, still sounding rather sleepy, still too exhausted to keep his eyes open.
"Okay. So just for the record," Don repeated, "there have never been any threats against you personally, right?"
Charlie was looking at him then, and for a moment Colby wasn't sure whether he'd understood the question. "Uh…" he started, but didn't go on, and that was when Colby was wondering whether maybe, he'd understood the question quite well.
"Nobody ever threatened you, right?" Don repeated, apparently still thinking that Charlie had merely trouble keeping up.
"Well… I wouldn't put it exactly like that," Charlie eventually mumbled.
Don's eye-brows were drawn together so tightly that they were almost touching each other. "There's not much room for interpretation here, Charlie: have you or have you not been threatened?"
His sharp tone made Charlie open his eyes wider than before, and from the expression in them, Colby could tell that he was a little more alert now. "Well, yeah," he said and swallowed thickly, "but I don't think that's pertinent to this case."
Charlie's voice had been small, much in contrast to Don's reply. "Not pertinent to this case? Are you kidding me?"
When Charlie winced, Don seemed to realize that loud noises weren't something that one wanted to experience while suffering from a concussion, and he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. When he went on, he was still clearly irritated, but the volume of his voice had dropped to a hiss. "Someone threatens you and then you get attacked, you don't think there might be a connection? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
Charlie had his eyes closed again, and while his speech was coming out clearer, his exhaustion had gotten a new layer. "I've been threatened on maybe half a dozen cases over the years," he said, and Colby felt his eye-brows go up. He hadn't known about that, and judging from the look of incredulous shock on Don's face, neither had he. "But the last time was over five months ago, and the case is long over. I just don't think any of those would act on their threats now."
Colby gave Don a side-glance, but had to realize that Don was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to ask the relevant follow-up question, so he did. "Did any of those threats have a xenophobic character?"
Charlie was frowning. "I don't think so," he mumbled.
Don was shaking his head, looking at Charlie as though he was seeing him for the first time. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?" he repeated, his voice lower now, and as much as Colby's curious side was glad that he was here, he would have liked to be anywhere else in this moment. This just didn't seem like a conversation he should be listening in on.
Charlie opened his eyes again, albeit only to slits. "It wasn't FBI related," he replied softly. "I wasn't really at liberty to discuss it."
Colby could tell he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open now, to use their expressiveness to convey a message to his brother. "I'm sorry," he added quietly. "But it was just threats, they never acted on any of them. And apart from those case-related threats, there haven't been any others against me, at least none I recall."
Don was silent, but in his eyes, Colby could see a struggle of wounded pride and concern. Given how upset Don had been in the Bonnie Parks case that Charlie hadn't come to him earlier, he had some idea about what was going on in his friend's head. Yet, if what Charlie was telling them was true, they seemed to be back to where they'd started, and Don seemed to realize that – and to understand that whether or not his brother had kept those threats from him, there was little chance it had led to his poor state now. Maybe it was that kind of reasoning that didn't make Don reveal any of his hurt feelings when he spoke, but let protective Big Brother take over completely.
"Alright, buddy," he said, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I think that's enough for today. I'm going to stop by after work, and Dad should be here any minute, so you just concentrate on getting better, okay?"
Colby couldn't have said for sure whether Charlie had heard him, for his eyes were almost shut, but he emitted a soft, slurred, "'Kay."
The struggle was still there in Don's eyes, but as he was taking in his brother's battered form, his wounded pride made way to something else, to a fire that seemed to give him new energy, new vigor. Yet, his voice seemed uncharacteristically fragile when he leaned closer to his brother, whispering, "Don't worry, buddy. I promise you, we're gonna get these guys."
Charlie was rubbing his forehead while trying to concentrate on his analysis, which was no easy task. One, because this was actually pretty complex, and two, because his head was killing him., like it often was these days. By now, almost three weeks had passed since the attack, and his recovery had been relatively steady. True, during the first couple of days, the concussion and the bruises covering his body had been putting him through quite some discomfort, and while that had slowly been growing better, he'd been struggling more and more to deal with the emotional repercussions of having been attacked. For the first week or so, he'd been avoiding looking in the mirror, because every time he'd seen the remnants of the swastika carved in his chest, he'd felt his stomach turn. He'd been afraid then that maybe, the mark would never leave, that the scars would stay there as a constant reminder of those scary minutes when he'd felt so defenseless and weak, but as the days had passed, the symbol had continued fading, and at the same rate, his nightmares and flashbacks had been becoming less often and less intense.
Eventually, it had all become bearable to a level that had allowed him to take up his normal life again and even return to consulting for Don's team, like he was doing now. Granted, it still felt weird to just miss several hours of his life, and he was still nervous whenever he had to round an abandoned corner, and the memories of what had happened were still vivid on his mind, but he could control them better now, and they did no longer fill him with a panic that was paralyzing both his body and soul. So now, all that really remained of his ordeal were these stupid headaches that even after several weeks didn't seem to be willing to vanish. Then again, when he thought how differently things could have gone, he figured he shouldn't complain too much.
"You okay there?" David suddenly asked and Charlie gave a start.
"Me?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm… it's just a slight headache."
"Right," David said, and even though Charlie could hear the skepticism in his voice, he also had the impression that David would leave it at that.
Not so Megan. "You know that you don't actually work here, right?" she reminded him. "You can leave any time you like. Besides, I hardly think Don would want you to work on this case when you're still feeling under the weather."
Charlie creased his face into a smile. "Actually, retracing the routes these drugs took helps me get my mind off it. I've tried, and it's a lot worse when I'm just sitting there and not working on anything."
"You've got problems," Colby muttered under his breath.
Charlie was about to retort something, but was cut short when the door to the conference room flew open and his brother appeared in it. Charlie raised an eye-brow and exchanged insecure glances with the members of his brother's team. He wasn't sure what this was about, but he could tell without a doubt that Don was angry.
"We're off the case," Don said before anyone had time to ask. He was pacing the small room with an energy that would have felt invigorating, but that in combination with the expression on his face sent shudders down Charlie's spine.
"What?" Colby asked. "You mean Charlie's case?"
"Of course I mean Charlie's case!" Don gave back with more force than necessary. He ran his hand over his mouth and chin and looked around as though he was searching for an outlet to blow off steam.
"Well..." David started cautiously. "It's not really that much of a surprise, is it? I mean, we never found any viable leads apart from that DNA sample, and that couldn't be matched to any of the samples in our databases."
"So what, we're just supposed to let this case go cold?" Don snapped at him as though David had been the one to make that decision.
"Don…" Charlie tried, but didn't quite know what to say. He didn't even know how to feel about the fact that at least for the time being, there was little chance that his attackers would ever be brought to justice for their crime. All he knew was that Don's behavior was starting to scare him.
"This isn't over, Charlie, I told you we were going to find them, and we will," Don told him before he left as abruptly as he'd come.
Don was supporting his head with his hand. It felt heavy, and his eyes were burning with fatigue, but he forced himself to at least finish reading this one file. True, as far as he could tell, there was nothing to link this guy to the attack on Charlie, not more and not less than in the other gangbangers' files he'd read, but maybe, he'd find something after all. He just had to make sure not to overlook anything.
"Hey," a voice behind him said and he whirled around.
"Charlie!" he exclaimed when his eyes fell on his brother. "What are you doing here?"
Charlie smiled. "I was about to ask you the same thing. You realize you're the only one left in the bullpen?"
Don glanced around, finding his brother's assessment to be accurate. "So?"
Charlie shrugged. "Anything I can do to help?"
Don frowned. "That's why you came here? At this time of night?"
His brother gave him another shrug. "I went by your place earlier, so when you weren't there, I figured I had a good chance of finding you here."
Don's frown deepened. True, Charlie was putting up an air of nonchalance, but Don knew him better than that, something was definitely on his mind. "What's wrong?" He took a moment to study his brother's appearance, noticing the tired look on his face. "Is it the headaches?"
Now, it was Charlie's turn to frown. "What do you mean?"
"Dad told me you've been having recurring headaches ever since the attack."
"Um… yeah. Apparently it's pretty common after a concussion. But they're gone now, I think. I haven't had them in a week or so."
"So what's wrong?"
Charlie didn't answer at once, but studied him for a moment. There was still the ghost of a smile on his face, but his eyes were telling a different story. Don felt a sting in his heart when he realized what it was that didn't belong in Charlie's eyes and that was still there rooted deeply: a tinge of sadness.
"You tell me," Charlie said in a low voice.
Don frowned. "I don't understand."
Charlie sighed and finally let himself fall in Megan's vacant chair. "Have you looked in the mirror recently?" he finally asked. "You look like crap."
Don couldn't help it, he felt offended, and he still couldn't see where Charlie was going with this. "So maybe I've been a little under the weather lately. I've been working late, so what?"
"So what are you working on?"
Don stared at his brother. Charlie knew quite well what he was working on. Everyone knew that. What was he doing, trying to rub it in that Don had been failing for weeks now?
"Don," Charlie said, leaning forward and looking at him with such an earnest expression in his eyes that Don immediately discarded his theory again. "You need to let it go."
Don frowned. He'd thought Charlie and him had been talking about the same thing, but apparently, he'd been wrong. "What do you mean?"
"This case," Charlie said. "It's cold, so you need to leave it alone." He cast down his eyes for a moment and shook his head, and Don saw him swallow before he looked up at him again and continued, even more serious than before, "I should probably have talked to you about this sooner, but I just thought that eventually, you'd see for yourself that you couldn't go on like that. You need to stop doing this to yourself."
Don was shaking his head. "You know I can't. These people are still out there. You really expect me to just sit back and do nothing about this?"
For a moment, Charlie just looked at him. Then, he simply said, "Yes."
Don huffed and was back to shaking his head. Charlie knew there was no way he could let this go. And why would he? These guys had beaten his brother to a pulp, they'd put him into the hospital, hell, they might even have killed him! There was no way Don could let this go.
Besides, he had promised his brother.
"Don," Charlie tried again. "You're no step closer to figuring out who they are than we were at the beginning of this investigation. And of course I'd like to see them punished for what they did to me, but… not at that cost. I can't watch you obsess over this case any longer, so please… just leave it alone."
"But it's my fault."
The words were out before Don had been able to stop himself. They hadn't been loud, true, but they were still standing there unmistakably, their echo vibrating in Don's ears with a crescendo that was making him wish to just leave this place, or any place where there was sound.
"What are you talking about?" Charlie said with an air of confusion that couldn't be fake, despite what logic should have told him. "Why would this be your fault? We don't even know what their motives were, how can you even try to assign blame here?"
Don had closed his eyes, but could feel how his despair was morphing into anger, finally providing him with some energy. "It's pretty clear that someone did this to get back at you –"
"We don't know that!" Charlie interrupted him with resoluteness. "And even if we did, we still wouldn't know whether or not this was FBI related."
Don was silent, not knowing what to say to this. Maybe Charlie was trying to keep an open mind about this, but as far as Don was concerned, there was no doubt left that this was about a case that Charlie had consulted on for them, he could feel it.
"And even if it was FBI related," Charlie went on, calmer again, "that still wouldn't make it your fault."
Don remained silent, not daring to object even though he knew that Charlie was wrong. He was the one who had brought his brother into this dangerous world, he was the one who'd asked for his help on more cases than they could reasonably examine, as his most recent investigation was showing him all too clearly.
"Don, I need you to listen to me."
Don looked up, feeling surprise. Charlie's tone had changed, it was harder now, stricter. Still, the expression in his eyes… it was still soft somehow, there was still sadness there, but resoluteness, too. It was a mix that was tugging at his heart, but also one that gave him hope.
"Maybe you're right," Charlie went on. "Maybe someone did this to me because of a case that I consulted on for you and your team. But that's the point. I consulted on those cases. It was me who accepted the job and everything it entailed."
Don was shaking his head. As much as he wanted to hear his brother's absolution, he knew he didn't deserve it. "But it was me who brought you in on these cases –"
"And I'm glad you did," Charlie interrupted him, and for some reason, a smile spread out on his face. "Don – I have no regrets. If I could turn back time, I would do it all over again."
Don still wasn't convinced, but one thing seemed to become rather certain: his brother wasn't blaming him for what he'd had to suffer. Nor, as a consequence, taking him up on his promise. So maybe… maybe he could take a break from this, just tonight?
He still wouldn't have dared to voice that thought, so it was probably a good thing that Charlie did. "Now how about we get out of here? There's still some lasagna left at the house, what do you say?"
Don felt a smile spread out on his face. Charlie was actually serious about this, and serious enough to come out here late at night just to talk to him. All of a sudden, he was feeling touched. And, as he only now realized, pretty damn hungry.
"I don't know," he replied, daring to leave his dark thoughts behind for the moment, "it depends."
"On what?"
Don felt his smile turn into a grin. "Is there any beer in the fridge?"
It was exactly 161 days later, the first three digits of the golden ratio, when they had a break in the case. There had been another incident of battery, but this time, there had been witnesses who'd seen the perpetrators escape in a car. Tracing the license plate had provided the LAPD with a name, Randy Conaghan. Upon his arrest, they had taken a sample of his DNA, which had been a match to the sample found under Charlie's fingernails. When the LAPD had questioned him about his connection to that cold case, however, he'd denied any pertinent role in the attack, claiming he'd only been following the lead of his two accomplices. They, of course, had claimed not to know anything about the matter, so without the testimony of further witnesses, it was one criminal's word against another's.
So now, half a year after the attack, Charlie was standing behind the one-way mirror in the LAPD, between Gary Walker and his brother, feeling that his hands were starting to sweat.
"Are you okay?" Don asked softly.
Charlie swallowed and nodded. "As long as there's still a wall between me and them, yeah."
To tell the truth, there was an unpleasant jittery feeling in his stomach, but he didn't dare mentioning it. He was afraid, true, but not of what his attackers might do to him. No, what he was afraid of was his own fleeting memory. Half a year had passed, and he had no idea whether he would be able to recognize his attackers. Sure, he'd relived the scene in his mind more often than he would have liked, but he had some difficulty pulling up images of his attackers' figures or the sound of their voices with the accuracy needed in a lineup. Yet, Don didn't even seem to consider the possibility that Charlie might not be able to make a positive identification. To him, this lineup was nothing more than a formality, which only increased Charlie's nervousness that maybe, he was about to let his brother down. After everything that Don had done in this case, it came down to Charlie's memory, and he felt that he somehow owed it to his brother to get this right, and the pressure was doing nothing to relieve him of the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Six people were led inside the room, and Charlie felt his nervousness increase. Judging from the build, all of them came into consideration, since his three attackers had been of slightly different builds as well. Okay, so maybe not all six men. Number one… yeah, number one and number five were a bit too slender, they didn't fit either one of his attackers. That, however, still left him with four viable suspects.
Number one stepped forward then, reading the words that his attackers had said to him from a piece of paper. And even though Charlie knew it wasn't him, and even though the tone was a lot different, he still felt a shudder run down his spine, and his mind took him back to that scary scene six months ago.
Number two to five had said their phrases, and Charlie felt himself starting to tremble. He just didn't know. He couldn't tell whether or not it was them. It didn't really sound like his attackers, but it was still possible, for the situation had been completely different, and they'd said the words differently, with more force, more hatred.
Number six stepped forward then, saying the phrases, and Charlie froze. That had been it. The tone had still been different, but it was that voice, the one that had been taunting him while he was lying there on the floor, cringing from their kicks, yet unable to defend himself. All of a sudden, it was as though he was there again, in that recess, being pushed to the ground, and there he was, pulling out his knife and pressing him against the pavement, hissing, 'You filthy Jew' as he started carving –
"Charlie?"
Charlie flinched and turned his head, looking directly into his brother's concerned eyes. He swallowed and tried to level himself and to concentrate on the fact that his fears had been unfounded, that he was able to identify them, at least one of them.
"It's him," he said and cleared his throat when he realized how croaky his voice sounded. "Number six. He's the one who carved the swastika on my chest."
He swallowed again. The symbol was long gone, but sometimes, it still felt as though it was there, sometimes his mind would play tricks on him and he would see it in the mirror for a fleeting moment, like a mark that told him that he'd been branded, that nothing would ever change back what they had defined him like, a filthy Jew, someone who didn't fit into the regular society, at least not according to their rules.
"You're sure?" Gary asked. "You know you can ask them to repeat the phrase, we have all the time in the world here."
"That won't be necessary," Charlie said, thinking that he would forever hear number six say those words anyway. "It's number six, I'm sure."
"Alright then," Gary said and pushed the button for the speaker behind the mirror. "Thank you, we're done here. You can bring in the next round."
The six people left and a different set of six men was brought in. The procedure started anew, but this time, Charlie was sure when number two said his phrase, and everything that came after that was just a formality that he could bear a little more easily now that he was flushed with relief that this was finally over.
"Number two," he said, and before Gary could ask again added, "I'm sure."
"Very well. Thanks then for coming down here." He turned to Don then. "I heard Granger and Sinclair would be joining us for their interrogation?"
Don nodded. "We were investigating this case, too, you know, so –"
"Relax, Don, that's not what I meant," Gary interrupted him. "I just thought you'd like to be doing that yourself."
Charlie looked at his brother, wondering whether Gary's words would change his mind, and was relieved when they didn't. "Yeah, I… I thought about that," Don admitted. "I've come to realize though that it probably wouldn't be such a great idea to put me in the same room with them."
"I see," Gary said with a smile that seemed to convey some sort of appreciation. "Well, then. I'd say it's been nice working with you, but maybe next time we do that, we might want to leave our own people out of harm's way."
"I'm fine with that," Charlie said and forced himself to smile. When he and Don left the LAPD though, he felt his smile grow more sincere, the realization slowly dawning on him: it was actually over. After six months, they'd finally arrested the guys who'd hurt him, and now they'd probably be put off the streets for some time or at any rate, they'd have to answer for their actions. Charlie hadn't realized before how much the fact that this was still unfinished business had been weighing on his mind, but now that the weight had been lifted, he had to admit, it felt pretty good.
The brothers had been back at the FBI for several hours and working on their newest case along with Amita, Larry and Megan, when finally David and Colby returned from the interrogation.
"So? What did they have to say?" Don asked, not even trying to hide his tension and curiosity.
Colby's lips twisted to something like a smile. "In short, that Charlie's a reptilian. So if you don't mind, Charlie, just tell your alien friends not to abduct me before the week-end, I have a date I'm really looking forward to."
Charlie wasn't sure he'd heard right, but when he glanced at his brother and saw his own confusion mirrored on his face, he knew it wasn't just him. "What?"
"Let's just say it was a rather disturbing venture into the realm of conspiracy theories," David explained. "Apparently, Charlie here is part of a giant conspiracy of powerful human-like aliens who want to take over our government."
Charlie was looking back and forth between David and Colby, waiting for them to burst out with laughter. "You're kidding, right?"
There was a smirk on Colby's face, but no laughter, and the expression in his eyes was serious, too. "Oh no, they have it all figured out. You know of course that your being Jewish is genetic, and that the genes that make you Jewish are from alien origin. And with all your alien friends that walk among us, you're a severe threat to our pure white race. So Amita, you really shouldn't copulate with him."
Despite his overall confusion, Charlie felt himself blush at that last comment and was glad when David immediately continued. "Actually, I think Amita would be allowed to do it, I think she might not be having the right genes either."
"Right," Colby said and took a look around in the room. "Look at that, Megan, Larry, looks like the three of us are the only pure people in this room. We should make a plan how to defend ourselves against their superior numbers."
"I don't think I understand," Larry then voiced the exact same thoughts that Charlie was struggling with. "I mean, either they were truly imaginative during the interrogation, or they were stating what they believed to be the truth. In that case, however, there must be a chain of reasoning that led them to believe what you just told us, and I..." He looked around the room a little helplessly. "I really can't see how that should have gone."
"Charlie's Jewish, that was enough of a reason for them to harm him in whatever way they liked," Colby explained. "I guess that happens when you only stick to your own kind, you make up crazy theories about everyone who doesn't belong to your group."
"It's a pretty strong mechanism in group dynamics," Megan chimed in. "The more you're against another group, the greater the cohesion within your own group. The problem is that nowadays that we've left the stage of small communities and tribes behind, people always belong to a set of different groups, and due to the large variety of group memberships, such concepts of the enemy tend to always leave a couple of group members caught in the middle."
"Well, from what I saw, I wouldn't say that our guys are evolved enough to have left that tribal stage behind,", David said.
"Of course you would say that, reptilian," Colby gave back with something like a smile on his lips that, however, didn't reach his eyes.
Still, Megan felt the need to put him straight. "That's not funny, Colby."
"Really?" Colby gave back. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it's either hilarious or so sad that I don't even want to think about it."
"Given that their stupid theories could have killed Charlie, I'm still voting for sad," Amita said with so much anger in her voice that Charlie turned around to her with surprise.
He still didn't get it, though. "But even if they believed all that, how did they even know that I'm Jewish? It's not like they could have watched me go to the temple or something like that."
"Apparently, you mentioned it in one of those interviews, when your book was released," David explained. "As I remember, you were complaining then that most of at least the television shows never really asked you anything about the math, but only wanted to get to know the 'man behind the cover', so I guess it came up during one of those. The fact that you were both successful and Jewish was enough for them to make you a reptilian."
"That can't be right," Larry insisted. "I mean, I don't expect such a line of reasoning to be flawless or overly detailed, but there's not even any link between these three propositions. There must be underlying premises connecting them –"
"I'm sure there are, Larry," Megan interrupted him, "but I still don't think they would meet your criteria for logical reasoning."
"So that was it?" Don asked, and only now Charlie realized how quiet he'd been this whole time. "They decided that Charlie was a reptilian and thus a threat to society, so they beat him up?"
Colby shrugged. "Sometimes, it's as simple as that."
Charlie shuddered. He was still trying to get his head around the fact that their motive was really none other than antisemitism. It didn't feel right, and when he thought about it, he knew that his problem was that it just didn't make sense to him that someone would hate him so much just because he was Jewish. The realization that there were people out there who did made him feel… Well, he didn't quite know what to feel, he only knew that it sucked.
"I just..." he started, not really knowing what he wanted to say, just knowing that he still didn't understand. "I still don't get how they could think I was a threat to society. I mean, I'm part of this society. I just can't get my head around the fact that they would think that I don't belong to the rest. To tell the truth, I thought that feeling like an outcast would stop once I'd left high school behind."
"The problem is that people have quite different ideas of how our society looks like, or should look like," David said with a bitter note in his voice.
Charlie frowned and studied the pinched look on his friend's face. "This happened to you, too?"
"Well, no one ever beat me up so badly I had to go to the hospital, but I've had my fair share of fights while growing up and other kids telling me I should go back home, no matter how hard I tried to explain to them that this was my home. And I heard some pretty nasty stories about family friends and what they had to suffer from their white brothers."
"Yeah, I know those kinds of stories," Amita chimed in and Charlie looked at her with concern. Did she too have had to suffer such hatred while growing up? "Don't look at me like that," she told him with a smile. "Most kids in my neighborhood never even mentioned I wasn't white. Every now and then there was a stupid comment, but you learn to ignore them."
Charlie was still frowning. "You shouldn't have to," he said.
"If you ask me," Colby said, "it's their loss."
"Yeah, easy for you to say," David muttered under his breath.
Colby looked at him seriously. "I know. And believe me, I'm not proud that fate puts me in the same gene-pool and thus in one group with those idiots. But as far as I'm concerned, they can just suck it. It's just a small group of losers hating everybody they can find a reason to hate, and if we stand together, they can't touch us. I for one am happy to be part of this team, and if I had never known any of you outfits, my life would have definitely been a lot poorer."
Don smiled, but Charlie could tell that for some reason, there was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Nicely said, Granger. So I guess that means you're volunteering to do the paper work on this case?"
"No, wait –" Colby tried to argue, but didn't stand a chance.
"I think that's really generous of you," Megan said and with a slightly diabolic smile on her face shifted a pile of folders from her desk onto his.
"Actually, it's your turn anyway," David said and added some further files to the pile.
Charlie felt himself smile, but also felt the need to do this properly. "As a matter of fact, I wanted to thank you, too, and I don't just mean the paperwork, I mean all of you. I know you've been working really hard –"
David cut him off, "Don't mention it, Charlie. We're a team, so if someone hurts one of us, he'll have to deal with all of us. We're happy to do whatever it takes to take care of our own." With a grin, he added, "Isn't that right, Colby?"
Colby was still trying to maintain his sour face, but the facade was cracking already. "Right. So why is it that the team spirit vanishes as soon as it's time to find someone to dump the paperwork on?"
"Don't consider it a punishment, consider it an opportunity," Don said as he slapped him on the shoulder, exchanging a glance with Charlie over his head. Charlie could see the twinkle in his brother's eyes, but only understood it when Don added, "Doing a service to your friends every once in a while strengthens your bond with them, it's all in Charlie's book. So I guess you can either trust me that that's true and do the paper work now, or Charlie's gonna convince you of that thesis first by giving you a private lecture on the math behind friendship dynamics."
Don hadn't even finished talking when Colby held up his hands in surrender. "The paperwork, definitely," he decided, earning a room full of laughter.
- finis -