A/N: Instead of using Terry, I have decided to go with the new profiler, Megan. Of course she's not in this chapter. I just wanted to make it clear for future reference.

Ch. 3

Method to Madness

There was no true way to calculate Leon's shifts in mood, but that did not mean a pattern could not be found. Charlie took in the man's distaste for crying and weakness as starts in creating a mental list of Leon's quirks. Charlie's terror would not abate, but he had managed to rein it in enough to think and allow survival instincts to guide him. And the first thing that instinct told him was to try and keep Leon from hurting him anymore.

And the only way to do that was to think. Leon was bigger and stronger, Charlie small and injured, so any thoughts of a physical attack were completely out of the question.

Logic, just use logic. Think reasonably.

Leon had become wholly fascinated by Charlie's equations, and not just the one for Don. He started asking questions of the kind only someone on Charlie's level would know to ask, and made mention of equations and mathematicians only a fellow math enthusiast would know of. As Leon perused Charlie's work he would pace with the stiff agitation of excitement, then crouch in front of Charlie to point something out.

Charlie studied Leon, watching him carefully, as he paced, spoke, and asked. But Leon's discussions, his points, ideas, and theories, amazed Charlie. Slowly, the terror that had been choking him subsided as he fell into the rhythm of discussion and answer, as though a part of some grand debate with an old colleague. For a brief moment he forgot what had frightened him about Leon. Then Charlie shifted position, and felt his side flare up, and so remembered. It confused him, even agitated him, that he should be so afraid of Leon one moment and so amiable with him the next. It was as though his brain could not decide whether to loathe or admire the volatile man. It made Charlie's hands tremble with unease, and his heart pound non-stop. But as long as Leon engaged him in discussions of math, the terror could not take another choke-hold on him.

Charlie still remembered to watch for mood shifts, and to be careful not to fall into an argument on some mundane theory.

Then Leon stopped, looking up as though realizing something. " I'm hungry," he said. He then dropped the paper he had been looking over and quickly strode from the room, sliding the door shut behind him and thumping the lock into place.

Charlie did not pause to consider the oddity of this. With one hand pressed gingerly to his side, he used the other to push himself to his feet with a grimace. Leon had left the lights on that filled every corner of the chamber. Charlie wandered the room though he did not know what it was he was looking for. The windows, still dark from rain clouds, were too high up to reach, even if he could stack the crates without worrying about the rotting wood breaking under his weight. So Charlie headed for the sliding door. It was tall and wide enough to allow crate loaders through, made from white metal splotched with rust like massive blood stains. There was an iron handle to haul the door open, and that was it.

Charlie headed back to his spot on the other side of the crate. He sat, staring at the wall across from him numbly. The blocks forming the wall were chipped with flaking paint, and rust stains ribbed them all the way up to the ceiling like the twisted bars of a cage. Despair settled in Charlie's chest like a led weight. Glancing around his area, he saw one of his pencils within arms reach, so stretched and grabbed it. He then took one of his spiral notebooks and began calculating, only to find that he couldn't. He didn't know why the police were after Leon, or how desperate Leon was to get away. Then there were the moods shifts, and Leon's interchanging loathing of Charlie and his impression that Charlie was his 'kindred', his equal in mind. Charlie had nothing concrete he could work with. The situation was neither stable or unstable, rising or falling; it simply was, and could go on forever if it wanted to unless Leon finally decided to just kill Charlie.

Charlie's only surety in this situation was Don, because Don was always a surety. Not simply because Don was FBI and good at it, but because Don was always there. Protective big brother was as much a part of Don as his own heartbeat, and he manifested it as naturally as breathing. Don was forever making casual remarks on how much Charlie was sheltered, and yet sheltered just as much. He hid from Charlie the things he thought his little brother could not handle, and became agitated when Charlie crossed that line of what Don thought Charlie should not have to handle. It was that simple; Don would find Charlie, and Charlie did not need any formula to tell him so.

This hope was enough to keep the despair from overwhelming him, so Charlie set aside probability and refocused on trying to find the pattern of time the smugglers were using. It was not merely something for Charlie to do to pass the time. Focusing on the problem helped to narrow Charlie's thoughts, and keep him from considering the what ifs, such as what if Don does find him, and Leon uses Charlie as his 'between'.

Time became irrelevant to Charlie, so even had he been asked he could not have said how long Leon had been gone. The thump of the lock and the wailing grind of metal practically caused Charlie to jump from his skin. Charlie slapped the notebook shut and slid it away, then grabbed the nearest piece of paper and began looking it over as though he had been working on it the whole time.

Charlie could smell the food before he even heard Leon's footsteps, and it made his stomach grumble despite his lack of appetite. Carefully, Charlie leaned to the side and peered around the crate. He saw Leon sitting Indian style on the floor, opening a white paper sack and pulling out a burger. As he unwrapped it, Leon looked up to see Charlie watching, then shrugged apologetically.

" Sorry Chuck. Couldn't buy two bags. Might look suspicious. Besides, I find keeping people hungry makes them less of a pain in the butt to deal with."

Cold shot down Charlie's spine to go ripping through his nerves. Keeping people hungry. It sounded as though Leon had done this before.

" Got you this, though," Leon said, then rolled a small bottle of water toward Charlie. Charlie took it, and slipped back behind the crate so as not to watch Leon eat. Suddenly the thought of not having anything to eat for a long time brought Charlie's appetite back with a vengeance. He opened the water and took a few small sips. For all he knew, this was the only bottle he would be getting for some time, if Leon felt the same about people being dehydrated.

3333333333333333333

Leon had not been kidding about keeping Charlie hungry. The man came and went as he pleased with no pattern time wise to any of it. If he was hungry, he got food, bored he did whatever it was he did to alleviate it, and most of the time he did not say why he was going. He talked to Charlie about math, which helped to calm Charlie's frayed nerves, but not stop his continual shivering. Even with his clothes dry he still felt cold. Then again, perhaps it was fear.

Hunger was making it hard to think - and with every fast food sack Leon brought back, the hunger grew more painful. Charlie's head felt light and detached, but his body heavy and sluggish. He gave up on working equations, including Don's, and finally succumbed to his body's protest at having to move. He curled up on the floor against the box, lying on his non-throbbing side, but did not expect to go to sleep. Hungry as he was, not even an empty stomach could get rid of his tension. Charlie bent his head forward until his neck popped, then moved his arm up under his head to keep it level with his spine. He coughed, but the itch in his lungs he just tried to expel would not leave.

" Hey, Chuck," Leon said through a mouth full of partially chewed food. " You ever solve those impossible theorems? The ones worth some money if proved?"

Charlie sighed wearily. " No."

" Really? Ever try?"

" Yeah."

" Yeah?" Which one?"

Charlie furrowed his brow. There were many he had tried, but mostly out of bored interest or for fun. There was only one that held any deeper meaning for him, an obsession he both despised and feared, because it always came at the bad times.

Leon began listing off the algorithms, theorems, and so on. "... and that one – PvsNP. You every try that?"

Just hearing it made Charlie cringe as the obsession tried to creep back into his mind to occupy all thought.

" Chuck!"

Charlie winced. " Yeah, yeah... I-I tried..."

" Really? Get anywhere?"

Charlie thought back. Had he? He didn't remember any more. All he remembered was the agony of pushing on, pushing through, while despair and pain clawed at his back for his attention. And the more it clawed, the deeper he would go, drawing his world in smaller and smaller until it was only him and the equation. He had drowned himself in that problem.

" S-sometimes," Charlie said, just to give an answer.

" You still working at it?"

Charlie shook his head though he knew Leon could not see. " I can't."

" You can't? Why the hell not? Solving that thing would make you a king, man."

Charlie curled his fingers into a fist until his nails bit into his palm. He could feel the desire to drown himself in the problem welling up inside him like a tidal surge. He wanted to get lost in it, to narrow his world until he forgot everything else around him. Just for a little while, just to forget.

But that was how it always started; as a need to forget. But Charlie had said, promised without verbally making the promise, to never work on it again – to give it up. It was an addiction, and addictions did no one any good.

" I said I wouldn't."

For a moment, there was silence.

" Wouldn't? Why?"

Charlie swallowed nervously. He didn't want to say, it was too hard to explain.

" Why?" Leon said with a darker edge to his voice.

" Because I can't stop," Charlie blurted, feeling suddenly small and pathetic. " I start, and I can't stop, so I ignore everything else. I ignored my mom dying, my brother needing help..."

" Woe, hold up," Leon said. " What do you mean? You ignored your mom when she was dying?"

Charlie mentally shrank even smaller, and felt the old sickness of self-disgust tightening in his gut. " I... panicked. I..." It was hard thinking back on it. It always was. Charlie thought back often in hopes of understanding, but found only pale justifications for what he had done. " I was just trying to clear my head. I just needed some time. But I couldn't stop..."

Charlie heard Leon snort out a derisive laugh. " Then she was gone, right? No good-byes, no last visits. You just shut yourself in some crappy little room, and did some math. You left her alone when she probably needed you the most because you couldn't handle it, and thought only of yourself. You really are a wuss, Eppes; a selfish wuss."

Charlie's eyes burned with tears, and every beat of his heart seemed to hurt. He could not ignore the truth of Leon's words. Charlie had been selfish. He had been thinking of himself. He recalled Don saying something similar.

Why didn't you visit her! She needed you! She called for you! You're freakin' selfish, Charlie, you know that? I can't believe you!

" Man," Leon went on, " had you been my kid or brother, I would have beat the snot out of you for that."

A tear fell hot and stinging down Charlie's numb face.

" Hey Chuck. Chuck! You still with me? You'd better not be crying."

Charlie quickly wiped his eyes on his shoulder.

" Selfish, man. Probably feeling sorry for yourself right now."

There came a loud, sharp thud that made Charlie cringe. Leon must have kicked the door, and Charlie could now hear the stomp, scrape, and slide of Leon pacing.

" You have no right to feel sorry for yourself! You're a coward! You aren't even worth having as a shield, and you know why? Because no one's gonna care if you live or die, Chuck. No one!"

Then, to Charlie's horror, Leon came around the crate, taking long, quick strides straight at Charlie. Anger blazed not just in the man's eyes but throughout his whole being. Before Charlie could even scramble to his feet, Leon had him by the collar. He lifted the smaller man up as though Charlie weighed nothing, then threw him into the wall. Charlie hit his back in a fresh torrent of agony, and slid dazedly down the wall. When he reached the floor, Leon balled up his fist and struck Charlie hard in the side of the face, causing Charlie's head to snap around. Charlie fell to the floor with points of light and patches of dark pulsating before his eyes. Then more pain when Leon kicked him several times in the ribs, the same area where Charlie had first been kicked, until Charlie couldn't even suck in a breath.

Charlie was vaguely aware of Leon's hand wrapping around the back of his neck and squeezing slightly – not to choke but to restrain.

" You've got blood on your back, man," Leon said, sounding strangely disappointed as though Charlie had just messed up his best shirt. Then, new horror took hold when Charlie, his head beginning to clear thanks to fear, felt Leon pull the back of the sweater, then shirt, all the way up to the base of Charlie's head. Sharper cold hit Charlie's skin like a slap, and nausea threatened to come burning up his throat.

Charlie squirmed, but the hold on his neck only tightened. He could feel Leon's calloused hands probing and pulling at the scabs on Charlie's upper back. Charlie squirmed even more trying to pull away in sickened desperation.

" W-What are you doing!"

There came sharp pressure focused directly in the middle of Charlie's spine.

" Hold still! Quit moving!" Leon snarled. " Your backs all sliced up. This is nasty!"

The pressure increased, and Charlie did not have to see to know that Leon had his knee on him as further restraint.

" It's gonna get freakin' infected! Why didn't you say anything!" Leon grabbed a handful of Charlie's dark hair and pulled his head back until the neck-bone felt folded perfectly in half. He could now see Leon's face, his gritted teeth and eyes wild with unchecked fury, as though every pent up emotion he ever held had been set lose.

" Why didn't you say anything, you freakin' coward! Why didn't you say anything!" He screamed. Then Leon smashed Charlie's forehead into the concrete, and Charlie slipped into black oblivion.

3333333333333333333

A/N: Poor Charlie. See? Unpleasant. I would like to thank everyone who commented. I'm trying to work quickly enough to get the next chapters out, but I can't work too quickly or it won't be good. And if you think you know where this story's going, hold on to that thought. You may be in for a surprise.