A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long to get this next chapter out. My muses were being obnoxious and I had to re-write it a couple times just to get it to a semi-decent state. Muses. Sigh. . .


The Odds of Human Nature

Chapter Four: Caught in the Rain

The storm beat them to shore by twenty minutes, but Charlie was oblivious to the rocking of the boat as he kept watch over Alison. Though the smile never left her mouth, her face grew flushed and her eyes would more often than not dart towards the door leading out of the cabin and back onto deck. If this wasn't enough to clue him in that something was wrong, the gouges in his skin where she was clutching his arm would have been a huge hint.

But he didn't complain.

He was happy to have her nails digging into his arm because he knew it was the one thing keeping her together. He rather liked the feel of her weight against his body, of being able to support someone for a change when people are usually supporting him. It had been a long time since anyone needed him like this. Sure, people needed his mind all the time--Don, Larry, the government--but no one needed his physical presence. He hadn't been needed for comfort since his mother.

It was nice. A little painful, but nice.

Alison's smile was on the verge of extinction by the time the catamaran finally docked. Everyone quickly helped to unload the gear as the sky poured down upon them, thunder crashing and lightning flickering across the clouds overhead. Once everything was locked up and stored away, the students began filtering out towards the parking lot, making vain attempts to dodge raindrops while trying to protect their belongings.

"Are they gone yet?" Alison asked through clenched teeth, and Cameron gave a sympathetic nod.

"Yes, you can go."

"Thank god," she muttered and ran for the edge of the pier.

Charlie looked from Alison's retreating form to Cameron, who was clearly trying not to grin. "Should I go after her?"

"I'd give her a minute or two if I were you. Or five."

"She was doing so well," he said with a sympathetic shake of his head as he looked out onto the pier. "I don't think she stopped smiling once on the entire trip back."

"That's because smiling suppresses the gag reflex, but it can't work forever. Here," Cameron said, handing him a bottle of water as she glanced outside, "looks like she's empty. She'll be needing this."

Charlie took the bottle of water and followed after the biologist to where she was kneeling over the pier's edge. "Alison?"

She turned to look at him, a weak smile on her face. "Hey Charlie."

He knelt down next to her, brushing back the hair stuck to her cheek by the rain. Her face was warm despite the chill of the weather and her skin pale beneath the tan. "You okay?"

"Been better," she nodded. "Hate it when this happens, even though I should be used to it by now."

"Here," Charlie said, handing her the bottle as he sat down next to her. "Cameron thought you might want this."

"Thanks," she said, first using it to rinse out her mouth first before tentatively sipping at the water. When it appeared her stomach had settled, she relaxed, glancing at Charlie with a smile. "You're soaking wet."

"It's raining."

"You should have stayed in the boathouse where it's dry."

"But you were out here."

"I'd have made my way back there eventually."

"I don't mind a little water," he shrugged, earning him a look of gratitude.

Alison leaned against him and his arms moved over their own volition to wrap around her shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a woman just for the sake of holding her. Most of his encounters with the opposite sex were shallow affairs, feverish and frantic with little tenderness involved. He barely had time to learn their names or really anything about them before morning came and he was gone. It was a new experience for him, actually building something with Alison. He just hoped he didn't do anything to screw it up.

So far, though, he was optimistic.

"If that's true about the water," Alison said looking up at him, a hint of excitement in her voice, "then we're going to have to teach you to swim. Once you know how to swim, I can teach you how to surf, and snorkel, and dive--"

"Hold on there," he chuckled. "Let's just concentrate on the swimming first."

"You're right, of course, swimming first. As a matter of fact, I've got a pool in my backyard that'll be perfect."

"You know I'm going to be making a complete fool of myself for the first few lessons."

"Nice to know a genius can be foolish every once in a while," she smiled, and Charlie found himself smiling back. He'd discovered that when Alison was involved, he always smiled back.

"What do you say we get out of this rain?" He stood up and helped Alison to her feet, the two running hand in hand back to the boathouse.

"Thought you'd decided to grow gills and stay out there," Micah grinned as he held open the door.

"I think I might have," Charlie said, squeezing a layer of water from his hair as Alison took a quick look around.

"Where's Cam?"

"She left before the storm could get any worse, and I suggest you do the same, and not just because I want to lock up so I can go home and dry off."

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Micah," Alison said, wrapping him in a giant hug and promptly getting wet every part of him that had been dry.

"Ali!" he yelped, pushing her away and looking down at his newly sodden clothes. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you love me," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah yeah yeah," he muttered, but Charlie could see the amused pleasure in his eyes. "Get out of here, brat."

"Thanks for the ride, and we'll see you next week."

"Good meeting you, Micah," Charlie said with a wave, which the man returned.

"You, too. Make sure she treats you right. After all, you've seen how she treats me."

Alison stuck her tongue out at him as she grabbed Charlie's hand and led him to the Jeep.

"You're going to wish you had gills," she said as they piled into the vehicle, which was without roof or windows. "Damnit. We were supposed to beat the storm. If you don't mind, we'll go to my place until it stops raining. It's closer, and we can dry off."

"Sounds good," Charlie said, too busy trying to find a way to fend off the rain to hear anything except the word 'dry'.

Not surprisingly, Alison's home was within walking distance from the beach in an older neighborhood not yet completely bought up by developers. She lived in a single-story ranch style house that was a faded sea-green in color, a dampened version of her eyes. Two large rose bushes, positively bursting with salmon-colored blooms, stood guard on either side of the front door. They were the only decoration for the neatly trimmed green lawn beyond the two sunglasses-wearing pink plastic flamingos which stood in the middle. There was an awning over the part of the driveway next to the house and Alison slid the Jeep inside, coming to a halt just in front of a shed stuck off of the end of the drive.

"Come on in," she said, opening the side door, and gestured for Charlie to go first. He nearly ran into two surfboards hanging on the wall and had to walk sideways to get past them. He made his way to the living room, which was simply decorated in neutral colors with a cream colored sofa and matching recliner surrounding a coffee table made of pine. Not too surprising, there was a painting of the ocean hanging over the sofa. What really drew his eyes, however, were the shelves standing against the opposite wall. Each shelf was completely covered in pictures, most of them people, some of places--usually an island or the beach.

"You want something to drink?" she asked, walking into the kitchen which opened into the living room.

"Water will be fine," he said, crouching down in front of the shelves.

With one glance, he could see that several of the pictures were of her family, the sea-green eyes of her siblings giving them away. Others were of previous school-sponsored trips, the students in them wearing wetsuits and waving with flipper-covered hands. Charlie realized looking at the pictures of student trips that the flipper hands were a trademark of all excursions in which she was the leader, and it made him smile to see the silly grins and laughter on their faces. He knew he was a good teacher and it was easy to get a laugh out of his students in order to set them at ease with the subject, but Alison and her students seemed more like family. Of course, he only saw his students every other day in the classroom. If they spent a week or a month together day in and day out, he wondered how that would change.

Though how he'd manage to get together a group of students who wanted to do nothing but math every day for a month, he didn't know. Maybe if he held the trip in the Caribbean, they'd be tempted to come.

"Do you actually study on these excursions?" he asked as Alison handed him the bottle of water.

"Absolutely. That's what days are for when we're nursing our hangovers," she said, and he couldn't quite tell if she was teasing or not.

"Which brother is which?" he asked as he stood up, pointing to the sea-eyed men on the higher shelves.

"This is Benji next to the very first house he designed, Casey the day he graduated from med school, and this is Stephen," she said, picking up the picture of herself and a young man standing on the beach, each holding a surfboard. He looked a lot like Alison, but his features were finer, sharper. Charlie could see why he and his band had trouble ridding themselves of their female fans. In truth, all the brothers were good looking with their fair hair and pale eyes, each of them tall and fit and handsome. The complete opposite of him, a small part of him noticed.

"These are my parents," she said, returning the surfboard picture and picking up one of an attractive couple in a professionally posed photo, Alison's mother sitting on a chair, her husband standing behind with a hand on her shoulder. They were smiling, but there was a sternness to their eyes that he could imagine gave their children no leniency when it came to finishing their homework and making good grades, always pushing them to do their very best. But there was kindness, too, and laugh lines around their mouths, so he figured growing up with the couple as parents couldn't have been all that bad, though he wouldn't want to be the one who disappointed them.

"Your family is beautiful," he said, putting the picture back in its spot.

"Yeah, we were blessed with fairly decent genes, though my brothers definitely got the lion's share. I was always the ugly duckling of the group."

Charlie turned to look at her, his eyes aghast. "You think you're an ugly duckling?"

"You just saw my family--do you know what it was like growing up with brothers who are prettier than I am? Actually, I didn't mind all that much. I'm the only daughter, so I got spoiled in ways they never did."

"Alison," he said, disregarding her words and her dismissive smile, "I don't know what it is you've been told, but I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."

She shook her head. "Charlie, you don't have to say that. I'm not bothered about how I look."

"Neither am I, and I didn't say it just to make you feel better. I'm telling the truth." With a smile, Charlie reached up, brushing his fingers along her cheek. "You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. I'm flattered that someone like you even bothered to look twice at someone like me."

"Charlie, you've got to be kidding me. You're positively gorgeous! One look into those beautiful brown eyes of yours, and I was lost. Though I admit," she grinned, reaching up to tweak one of his curls, "the hair isn't exactly a turn-off."

A blush began to color his cheeks, but before he could stammer out a diminishing response, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He was so shocked, he couldn't move. He just stood there and let himself be kissed.

Alison pulled back, an uncertain smile on her face. "That was too forward of me, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I should have--"

Before she could finish, he gathered up his courage and leaned forward, touching his lips to hers. When she didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, relishing the feel of her mouth against his as their arms wrapped around each other. She was an amazing kisser, his head instantly beginning to spin and his knees growing weak as their tongues slid against each other. A wave of heat rushed through his body and he wanted nothing more than to hold her to him, to have all of her pressed against him. The idea was so consuming that he knew he had to stop.

With a gasp, he forced himself break the kiss.

"Charlie?" Alison asked, her eyes confused and concerned beneath the underlying heat. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," he said, stumbling away from her. "More than fine. I just don't. . . I don't want you to be like the rest of them." I don't want to be used, he added to himself, and I don't want to use you. "I want this to be real."

She stared at him for a moment, considering his words and the expression in his eyes before granting him a heart-warming smile. "That's what I want, too," Alison said, stepping forward to give him a quick kiss, then quickly backing away. "Come on, we should get cleaned up. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing."

He didn't dare tell her that 'cold' was the last thing he was feeling.

"Let me grab some clothes for you--Stephen always leaves half his wardrobe here, so I'm sure I can find something, and you can have the shower first."

"Oh, no, it's your house. You go first--I insist. I'll just call my dad and let him know where I am."

"Checking in with your dad?" she said as headed down the hall and he could hear a door opening. "That's so sweet."

"He's got a habit of worrying about me," he said loud enough so she could hear. "With reason."

"Well, then," she said, returning with a pair of sweats, a pair of socks, and a tee-shirt, "you should call, get him used to the idea that so long as you're with me, he has nothing to worry about."

"I don't know about that," Charlie smiled, unable to resist claiming another kiss. "I think he's got plenty to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like never seeing me again."

"Then he'll worry I'm holding you prisoner."

"Aren't you?" he asked teasingly and she grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him forward.

"Absolutely," she said, looking him in the eyes. "I dare you to try and escape."

"Maybe later. Right now, I think I like being your prisoner."

Her face lit up with a beautiful smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Besides, this will give me a chance to know everything about you."

"Oh, I'll never tell you everything," she said with a laugh, pushing him gently towards the phone.

He frowned, turning around to search her eyes. "Why not?"

"Because if you know everything, if you have no more variables left to discover, you might think you have me figured out and you'd grow bored with me."

Charlie had to laugh--she didn't yet know that his understanding of human nature was always going to leave him in the dark, especially where women were concerned. "Alison, you could tell me every tiny detail of everything there is to know about you, and I'd still never have you figured out."

"You'd be surprised," she said, her voice skeptical, but he just grinned.

"I certainly hope so. I'm looking forward to being surprised by you at least once a day. In fact, I don't think I've ever looked forward to anything more."

While he'd been sincere, he didn't expect the reaction his words received. His body flushed at the sudden intensity in her eyes when she pulled him close.

"Charlie, you keep saying things like that, and you're going to learn everything about me a lot sooner than you expected."

He swallowed hard. "Maybe I should be the one to go jump in the shower," he said in a shaky voice, and she laughed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I so adore you," Alison smiled, then disappeared down the hall.

It took him several deep breaths before he got himself calmed down enough to a point where he wouldn't have to worry about sounding incoherent when speaking to his father. However, he still had to use all his powers of concentration to ignore the sound of a shower turning on and everything that it implied.

"Think of golf," Charlie told himself as he dialed. "Just think of golf."


"Eppes residence."

"Hey Donny."

"Charlie," Don said, edging back into the kitchen and away from the living room where their father was watching the game. "Where are you? It's pouring out. Don't tell me you're still on the boat?"

"No, we docked about an hour ago. I'm at Alison's waiting for the rain to blow over."

Don's eyes narrowed though he kept his voice neutral. "Do you want me to come get you?"

"That won't be necessary," Charlie said with a chuckle. "We're fine. I'm fine. We're just hanging out here until the rain stops."

"You sure that's all you're doing?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry?" his brother said, voice filled with confusion. "Don, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No, Charlie. I. . . I just want you to be careful."

"Alison is not a serial killer--" Don could practically hear his brother's eyes rolling. "--nor is she a threat to the country. She's a marine biologist, a wonderful woman, and she likes me, Don, and I don't think it's for my mind. I think she likes. . . me."

The man who was generally considered to be one of the brightest in the world sounded so baffled by the concept that Don couldn't keep from smiling.

"Charlie, everybody likes you. You're a great guy and anyone who knows you will say the same thing."

"Yeah, but it's different with her. When Alison looks at me, I don't feel like I've got a big red neon sign flashing 'GENIUS' floating over my head. When I'm with her, I feel like I'm just like everyone else."

Don was quiet for few seconds, unable to decide between feeling annoyed that Alison wasn't taking his brother's intelligence seriously, or feeling concerned that Charlie had ever worried about being like everyone else and that he continued to worry about it. He'd feel ridiculous asking if anyone had been giving him trouble at school--Charlie was no longer a kid and he was supposedly safe in a world of higher academia where people understood him, but Don knew things hadn't been easy for his little brother growing up.

It hadn't been easy for either of them.

Did Charlie still carry around with him the stigma of being different? Surely by now he was comfortable enough with his gifts not to worry about what other people thought, but Don supposed Charlie wouldn't be human if he didn't worry about it once in a while. No matter where he was, Don knew that on some level Charlie would always be the outsider. He just didn't know how deeply his brother felt it.

"Donny? Hello, Earth to Donny. You there?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm here," Don said, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"What were you thinking so hard about?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Don smiled at the good-natured skepticism in his brother's voice. "All right, nothing worth going into over the phone."

"That I'll accept. Don, I've got to go. It's my turn for the shower and I should probably get out of these clothes before I catch a cold or something. Listen to me," he said with a chuckle, "I'm starting to sound like dad."

"At least you actually noticed your clothes were wet this time," Don said, unable to resist teasing him a little.

"Yeah, I don't think dad's forgiven me yet for ruining the finish on that chair," Charlie said, and they both laughed, each recalling the tragic sigh their father gave every time he saw the mottled chair.

"All right Charlie, I'll see you later today."

"Assuming you don't get called into work."

"Right. Assuming."

"Tell dad where I am. See you later, I hope."

"Yeah, me too."

He knew his brother had meant nothing by it, that Charlie was only stating the obvious when it came to his precarious presence at the house, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt as he hung up the phone. There were still a lot of things left unsaid between them and Don knew that all the time he spent with his family, with Charlie in particular, would never make up for the years he'd spent avoiding them. There were wounds on both sides that would probably never heal, wounds too deep to explore without the risk of tearing them apart. Don knew the peace he held with his brother was tentative at best, resting on the premise that they never opened those wounds. He figured that was why they'd come to an unspoken agreement to rebuild their relationship with a fresh start instead of trying to hack it out of the past.

A psychiatrist may have argued that it was unhealthy for them to keep the bad stuff buried and warned them that it would all eventually escape, but for now, it worked.

"Who was that?" Alan asked as he walked into the kitchen to grab another beer.

"Charlie. He and Alison got caught in the rain, so they're staying at her place until it blows over."

Alan nodded. "She's a sweet girl, that Alison. I could tell just by looking at her."

"She's something else, all right," Don muttered, placing the phone back in the charger.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

But Alan wasn't buying it. "Don, do you have something against this girl? Because as far as I can tell, she'd done nothing wrong except make your brother happy."

"I'm sure she's a great girl, dad. I'm just trying to look out for Charlie."

"Donny," Alan said, placing a sympathetic hand on his eldest son's shoulder, "the days when you felt you were obligated to protect your brother from schoolyard bullies are over. And if you're still feeling guilty for those days when you looked the other way, you shouldn't. That's all in the past now. You've both grown up, and he doesn't need your protection anymore."

"I know, dad, it's just that--"

"Shh. . ." he smiled, shaking his head. "Let it go, Donny. Be the best big brother you can be, but do it by treating him as an equal, a friend, instead of the kid you always need to keep one eye on so he'll stay out of trouble. He already worships you, he always has, and he'll take to heart anything you say. Don't risk losing that trust because of your fears. If there's a lesson to be learned here, let him learn it on his own, and be there to support him every step of the way. That's the best thing you can do for him."

Don stared at his father, at the kind, gentle eyes forever underscored with a shining humor, and sighed. His father was right, and he knew it. Hell, he'd been telling himself the same damn thing not five minutes before his dad had walked into the room. He just hated having to hear it.

Taking a deep breath, Don looked up at the senior Eppes and said with a teasing grin, "And here I was thinking that Charlie's the only genius in the family. You've been hiding something from us, dad."

"It's called experience, and it's something gained with old age. You'll learn it too, one day, though it's clear you've got a long way to go," he said with a wink, giving Don's shoulder a friendly pat before returning to the living room.

And in the meantime, Don swore to himself that he'd make an effort to get to know Alison before passing judgment. He'd support his brother, stand by Charlie's side, treat Alison with courtesy and respect, and hope it all worked out for the best.

Of course, he'd still do the background check on her--that much was a given, but he promised to be damn nice about it.


(Completed May 16, 2005)