Ch. 10

What it all Comes Down to

Don tapped the side of the key-board rapidly despite the fact that he wasn't really impatient – more like anxious. FBI databases were freakishly massive, and without a last name to use Don was forced to slog through a mire of info on people with the first name of Leon. On the plus side, he was pretty certain he could eliminate those wanted for tax evasion, known to be out of the country, or are dead. On the down side, there were more Leons out there than Don thought possible, and most of those wanted for criminal acts could easily fit the profile of Charlie's nightmare-man.

Don was even now staring at a guy known for having a history of mental instability. The mug shot was of a heavy-set thug with thinning hair and a huge mustache, but Charlie's Leon could have lost weight and shaved.

Charlie had been unable to recall much about Leon – not that Don blamed him - except that he was tall, strong, and his hair was receding slightly. Given time and careful thought, Charlie might have remembered more, but Don wasn't going to push him. After their little talk, and once Charlie had been able to tone down his emotions, Don had been able to talk his little brother into coming inside and having a bit of dinner. Half a sandwich and a glass of milk had been all he was able to stomach before he had crept off wearily to the couch to just sit (not huddle shivering, thank goodness).

He still wouldn't let anyone touch him, and he was still frightened. He had been even more frightened when Don had left. He hadn't expressed it in any visual or verbal way, but Don had seen it in his eyes – a silent plea for Don to stay. Don would return when his work at the office was done and he had a chance to talk to Megan.

Don shifted in his chair when he felt his leg starting to fall asleep. A new profile and mugshot popped onto the screen, this one of a black guy with a bald head. Don moved on, the next guy being dark-haired and Italian.

Don flitted his eyes away from the screen in order to give them a break, and spotted Megan heading his way.

" Hey Megan, did I ever tell you you're a genius?"

Megan grabbed the nearest rolling chair and dragged it over, dropping herself into the padded seat. She smirked. " Genius like your brother or genius in the sense that some advice I gave you actually paid off?"

Don leaned back in his chair, arching his spine until it popped and the muscles loosened. " I'm inclined to say both, actually. You were right, talking worked."

Megan leaned forward with her arms resting on her knees. " Really, Charlie talked?"

" As much as he could."

" And?" Megan's eyes brightened, taking on that hungry look of someone about to hear some sweet gossip. But Don knew well enough it was only her professional curiosity causing this expression. He leaned forward as well, still cautious about anyone overhearing, which brought about a bad case of deja vu. It was only a couple of days ago they'd been like this, talking conspiratorially as it were. But the mood had shifted, ever so slightly, because there was something to be hopeful about.

" He talked about the dream. I mean it wasn't exactly clear, but supposedly – in it – some guy was... hurting Charlie. He didn't really go into detail, more like rambling. He says he keeps seeing the guy everywhere, some guy named Leon. Charlie says the guy kept getting mad at him and Charlie didn't know why. He kept attacking him."

Megan lifted her eyebrows in alarm. " And he says this was a dream."

Don shook his head incredulously. " Yea, insisting's more like it. He keeps saying over and over how it was just a dream, or is a dream, or was supposed to be a dream. But, personally, doesn't sound like a dream to me. But Charlie keeps saying it was all too weird to be anything else; stuff about Leon needing him as a hostage, then Charlie waking up outside as though he had always been there. He's been working this equation, trying to prove that he didn't need Leon to stay alive out there. But..."

Megan pursed her lips sympathetically. " Numbers aren't being too friendly?"

" They're driving him crazy. And he still won't let anyone touch him, or go to the doctor. But, hey, at least he talked to me, right?"

Megan nodded. " Exactly. It's a start."

Don gestured toward the computer. " Well, I've been trying to see if I can't, maybe, find something that might prove this Leon guy exists. Or is that a bad idea?"

" Actually, if what happened to Charlie wasn't a dream, then it's a necessary evil. Charlie needs some clarity, some grounding, or he won't let anyone touch him again. From everything that you just told me, it sounds to me as though Charlie is fighting as hard as he can to ensure his own mind that what happened to him didn't really happen. Combined with the fact that Charlie was hurt in this supposed dream – for him being touched, even briefly, would be like a nasty wake-up call back into a nasty reality. It would make him think too much about what happened when all he wants to do is forget."

Don straightened. " Yeah, exactly. That's what he keeps saying, that he wants to forget."

" Well, that's probably what's driving him crazy. Not the fact that it did or might have happened, but that he wants to forget and can't. Whatever happened, he can't make sense of it and so doesn't want to."

Rather reminiscent of mom dying, was Don's immediate thought. Of course Charlie hadn't had the same mind-crippling terror as now, but it had been something he couldn't wrap his straight-forward, analytical brain around. Charlie hid too much, that was his problem. What he couldn't handle, he shut himself away from. He locked it out of his mind, then would gradually emerge from it like a man wading into cold water, taking it a few feet at a time until he became used to it.

But there would be no getting used to this, and Don felt uneasy about having Charlie face this particular reality.

" So what happens if we make him face it?"

" Depends. Do it carefully, he should come to terms. It still relies heavily on not pushing him, Don. You have to get him to realize the truth, then give him time to let it sink in. It just all comes down to more talking. Keep him talking, let him talk, and listen. I mean you're obviously already doing a good job at that if he's opened up this much. What else did he say about this Leon guy?"

Don shrugged, looking back at the database still on the Italian man. " Just that he was angry all the time. And that he kept attacking Charlie. The guy had wanted Charlie as a hostage or something. So, yeah, I've got to admit that sounds a little odd. He traps Charlie in case the police show or something, then dumps him like it didn't even happen?"

Megan frowned. " Hmmm. Leon sounds a little off his rocker."

Don grinned at this. " That your professional assessment?"

Megan smiled back. " For now. No, I'm talking full on psychosis, not just some nasty little mean streak or anger management problem. If Leon is mentally unstable then that's why Charlie couldn't make sense of it."

" People generally never make sense to Charlie."

" Right, and I'd imagine mentally ill people practically boggle his mind."

Don shrugged. " Can't really say, he hasn't really met any. Although..." Don began thinking back to the hazy memories of childhood and the one-time only visitation of a relative. " We had this one uncle on my mom's side – a great uncle actually. He was kind of weird. He fought in Vietnam and when he came back was put on meds for depression and other problems. He was a nice guy, but like I said weird. Charlie was around seven or eight when he visited. Totally scared the hell out of Charlie. This uncle would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, shouting crap, and Charlie would either run to my room or our parents. If you dropped a book or a plate, the guy would freak and actually dive for cover. Poor Charlie thought he was going to kill us, wouldn't even go near him. So yeah, if normal people make him slightly nervous, someone with mental problems would probably scare him."

Megan nodded. " Then I'm gonna have to agree with you, Don. Leon probably isn't a dream. I'd start looking for people with major mental instabilities: Schizophrenia, bi-polar, stuff like that. But that's assuming your guy is even in here," she patted the top of the computer screen. " He might not even be wanted by the police at all. It could all just be in his head."

Don sighed heavily. " Someone who pounds someone else for no reason is going to end up on someone's radar. If Leon exists, he can be found."

Megan smiled. " I'll help then."

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A last name would still have been nice, but a profiler's assessment was just as good. Again the search was narrowed, considerably, taking up less time. Don wanted to find proof of this guy's existence today if he could, before Charlie drove himself into a psyche ward.

They brought David in on the search, as well as the situation as best as they could describe it. Still, there were a lot of Leons out there. Those fitting the profile of a schizophrenic, bi-polar, or manic depressive were printed up and gathered in a file for Don to take to Charlie. About ten sheets were collected, fitting both profile and the vague description Don had managed to coax out of Charlie.

" You sure about this?" Don asked Megan as he shoved the file in his bag, then snatched up his jacket. " Showing Charlie this guy exists? Sure it won't make things worse?"

" I don't know. You said he keeps seeing this guy everywhere. That could be a hallucination brought on by stress, but if it's not – if this guy is real and Charlie identifies him – he might become even more frightened. It also might mean this guy's still after Charlie for some reason."

The thought made Don's skin heat with anger. His brother didn't need this crap. If this Leon wasn't going to find it in his heart to lay off and let his brother have a little peace of mind, then Don would make him lay off, even if it required putting a bullet somewhere in the guy's body.

" Good luck," Megan said. Don gave her a weak smile before he headed off. He was torn in two, hoping Charlie's nightmare man was in the file, and hoping he wasn't so he didn't have to see the anguished look on Charlie's face.

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The ride to Charlie's house was fast, even sudden, the product of thinking too deeply behind the wheel. Don was surprised he hadn't hit anyone along the way. He pulled into the drive and stepped out into the warm amber air. He then hauled his bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder, mentally checking off his inventory of overnight junk.

The moment he stepped into the house he froze. He was immediately assaulted by noise, the sound of his father's voice talking loud and firmly. Don knew that tone, and it made him cringe to hear it.

" Charlie, this is serious. I want you to get in that car so I can take you to see a doctor... now."

Don cringed again, and Alan wasn't even yelling. Alan had never yelled at his boys in their entire lives, because all he had needed was that authoritative tone and the use of Don or Charlie's full name.

Charlie emerged from the kitchen, taking long strides, and glancing around as though searching for something. His father followed three feet behind, arguing non-stop though Charlie appeared not to be listening.

" I'm serious, son. You're an adult, you should know better, I shouldn't have to be hounding you like this, but you're leaving me no choice, Charlie..."

Charlie kept moving and stayed silent, still searching, even lifting up books and magazines on the coffee table, then digging between the cushions of the couch. Don's eyes had adjusted to the gloom of indoors, and he was finally able to see more of Charlie's face.

Charlie's eyes shimmered with tears, and there were wet traces on his face. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his white button shirt, his hand trembling, then reached into the cracks of the easy-chair. Alan reached out his own hand, touching Charlie's shoulder blade on his way to the shoulder. Charlie flinched, stumbling in his haste to move away. Alan threw his hands up.

" Charlie! What is going on with you! Please, you need to see a doctor..."

Don let his bag slide to the floor, then moved himself between Alan and Charlie, allowing Charlie the chance to escape to the stairs. Alan tried to maneuver around Don, but Don just moved to block him.

" Um, dad? Remember what I told you yesterday about me talking to Charlie and finding out what's going on? You know I did that, right? And told you? And how I told you not to force him into anything if I was able to talk to him?"

Alan wasn't looking at Don, but toward the stairs where Charlie had fled. Don heard the sound of Charlie's door creaking softly shut in the momentary silence.

When Alan finally looked at Don, it was with the broken hearted visage of a distraught parent rather than the frustration Don had been expecting.

" Donnie, he needs to go. This morning, I heard him throwing up. Later, I hear him dry-heaving because he doesn't have anything in his stomach to throw up..."

" Yeah, okay dad, but listen. Tailing him like this isn't going to do any good. It's just gonna make things worse. I know you're scared... hell, so am I. But we've gotta do this right. Charlie's spooked and he needs to know he can trust us."

" But Don..."

Don held up one hand. " I know dad, I know." He then crouched and dug through his duffel for the file. When he pulled it out, he held it up for his father to see. " I'm going to try and get to the bottom of this. Maybe it might change things, maybe it won't, I don't know. But if whoever hurt Charlie is real, then he needs to be caught."

Alan brought his hand nervously to his mouth, his eyes darting from the file to his oldest son. " Are – are you sure that's a good idea."

Don shrugged helplessly. " It's gotta be done. And it's worth a try. Might not be anything here anyways."

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Charlie pulled books from his shelf, tossing them onto the bed and the floor. He rifled through the papers on his desk, then dug through his bag, flipping through the pages of each notebook.

He found Don's equation, the one timing the smugglers and their movements. Obsolete, garbage. Hadn't Leon said so?

Charlie's throat tightened. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it into the wastebasket. He never wanted to see that equation again.

The equation he was looking for, however, he had been unable to get rid of. Now he couldn't find it. He wanted to find it, he had new factors to add, things to change. He wanted the new outcome more than he had wanted anything else in his life.

Charlie, still on his knees before his back-pack, swayed, nearly toppling to the side until he grabbed the bed. His head felt as though it were trying to detach itself from his body, to float up and wander in a haze of nothingness. Yet his body was weighted to the earth, heavy, sluggish, and rebelling against his every move. Charlie pulled himself up onto his bed, then carefully turned and sat on the edge. Tired as his body was, and light-headed as he felt, his heart was racing, and his mind was working too fast for even him. Already the calculations were rushing through his brain, solving themselves of their own accord, but going too fast for Charlie to cling to an answer. Even sitting on the bed he felt himself sway, and knew sleep would cure that. Too bad the rest of his mind didn't agree.

He had seen Leon again, or at least someone who kind of resembled him. Charlie had seen him through the window, across the street, and only now pondered whether or not it had been him. The rest of the time he had been too busy being sick. Now his ribs burned with the pain caused by trying to puke up nothing. He was hungry, but the thought of food made him sick. He would only throw it back up anyway.

Coward... Coward, coward, coward... Can't handle a little hallucination...

There came a soft knock on the door that made Charlie jump.

" Charlie?"

It was Don, just Don, that's all. Charlie let out a shuddering breath and relaxed.

" Y-Yeah?"

The door slowly creaked open and Don stepped inside, carrying a Manila folder in one hand. " Hey buddy. Heard you've been bowing to the toilet recently."

Charlie managed a weak, brief smile, then cleared his throat nervously. " Yeah, something like that."

" Feeling better?"

" A little."

Don smiled slightly. " Charlie, you never were a good liar. Good bluffer, maybe, but not a liar. Can I sit?"

Charlie nodded reluctantly. Don made his way around the bed and sat at the far end. Charlie continued to glance around, trying to remember where he had placed that paper.

" Hey, Don? There was this... um... thing I was working on. I can't find it... I remember having it yesterday..."

" You tore it up," Don replied. Charlie snapped his head around in alarm.

" What?"

" You tore it up. Well, you tore something up yesterday. Don't you remember?"

Charlie thought back, but it made the nausea roil in his stomach. He remembered the answers, what they were saying. Charlie winced, and his chest tightened until he found it hard to breathe.

He had torn it up.

" W-Why don't I remember?" he timidly asked.

" You know why, Charlie."

Charlie looked at Don, at the concern in his eyes, then at the folder. " What's that?"

Don handed the folder over to Charlie. " Look through it."

Charlie looked at the file, then at Don, his mind already working since it never stopped. He knew right off what this was about, what the file was. He shook his head vehemently.

" No."

" Charlie," Don said gently. " If he is just a dream, then you have nothing to worry about."

Don had him there. Leon was a dream, so what did it hurt to look at some FBI file? Don hadn't confirmed that Leon was in it.

Charlie took the folder with a trembling hand, his brain screaming at him to toss the file away. He opened it, and breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing Leon's face but the face of a stranger.

Then Don reached out and removed that page, then the page after, and the page after, all the faces of strangers. This would prove it, once and for all, that Leon was a dream.

Three pages to go. Don removed the third.

Charlie's heart slammed as though trying to pulverize itself on his ribcage. He methodically lifted the page up with Leon grinning at him like a man who had just made a new friend, not getting his mug-shot taken. It was that same smile, that same expressionless look that never let anyone know what was really going on within. The face made clear the memories, the cold, the pain, the terror. It rushed back to Charlie as clear as yesterday, and bile shot burning into his throat.

Slowly, as though time had grown sluggish in its passing, Charlie lowered his arm. His head spun, and every beat of his heart made it hard to breathe.

" Is this the guy, Charlie? Is this Leon?"

Charlie dropped the paper, reeling and wavering, his stomach roiling. The bile kept rising, though he tried to swallow it back. Finally, Charlie jerked himself forward, falling to his knees before the waste-basket and leaning over it, heaving and gasping until only a thin stream of foggy liquid came out. When it stopped, he spat, but another soon followed. He heaved again, harder, causing his side to erupt in excruciating pain. He doubled up, hugging his ribs, and leaned miserably against his desk as tears dropped freely to the floor.

That can't be him, that can't, that can't, that can't...

But it is...

He heard, distantly, the squeak of his bed as Don got up, then the pop of his brother's joints as he moved to sit beside Charlie. Charlie started trembling at the sensation of someone being so close by.

It really happened! Oh gosh it really happened! But... But...

His mind refused to work. It didn't want to.

" Charlie, listen to me Buddy. You need to hear this. The guy's name is Leon Jessup. He's bi-polar, all right? Which means he's like an emotional roller coaster. Megan told me about it once for another case. They have periods of euphoria interchanged with periods of manic depression. Some of the characteristics include uncontrollable anger. You hear me Charlie? Unpredictable bouts of fury. The guy wasn't even in control of himself. The stuff he did to you wouldn't make sense to anyone who didn't know what was wrong with him. He probably wasn't even angry with you, Charlie, just... angry period. You listening to me?"

Charlie closed his eyes. Bi-polar. Yes, that made some sense. But... But...

Charlie's eyes flew open.

Was Leon really out there? Had that always been him he saw?

More nausea threatened, and Charlie leaned in toward the wastebasket though nothing occurred. He clutched the basket tightly, and feared that if he let go he would fall.

" Charlie, look at me," Don said. Charlie turned his head, peering over his shoulder at Don. Don met Charlie's gaze and held it.

" Listen, Buddy. I know you don't want anyone touching you, but I need to feel your forehead. I need to know if you're sick, all right? If you don't want me to, I won't that's fine, but me and dad are worried, Charlie. You're not eating, you're apparently not sleeping, and I swear you're getting skinnier by the day... Now you won't stop puking. Just let me feel your forehead, real quick."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to feel anything, any sensation.

Coward.

Charlie opened his eyes. " Don?"

" Yeah?"

Charlie looked at Don, straight in the eye as Don kept asking him to. " Do you think I'm a coward?"

Don blinked in surprised. " What? No. What you went through would make anyone scared."

" Even you?"

Don let out a sigh. " Charlie, when you went missing, that was probably the most frightened I've ever been in my life. Not knowing where you were, or if I would ever see you again... I almost panicked. I mean I've been fired at, had a gun pointed at my head, been around bombs that went off... none of it can compare to what I was feeling when I put out a missing persons notice for my own brother."

Charlie, being the one to hold Don's gaze rather than the other way around, saw the truth of Don's words as plainly as though it were written out all over his face. Charlie had never thought of Don in terms of ever getting scared. It both shocked and amazed Charlie.

" Look, Charlie, I know you're scared. You have every right to be. But don't let it ruin your life." Don pointed at Charlie's side. " Don't let Leon keep hurting you. I know it's hard, but the fact remains that it really happened. You need help, Charlie, you need medical attention. You're letting Leon win by not going, don't let him do that to you."

Don was right. But Charlie couldn't help it. He still felt everything and hated it. But Charlie didn't want to be a coward anymore. Besides, he had nothing left in him to throw up anyways.

Charlie breathed as deeply as his ribs would allow, shivered, then nodded. " Okay."

Don slowly reached out, and Charlie fought to hold still. He felt ashamed for feeling the way he did. He knew Don wouldn't hurt him, that a hand on the forehead was not a punch in the face.

Charlie closed his eyes, then winced when he felt Don's cool hand against his skin. Charlie shuddered in discomfort, swallowing hard.

" You're warm," Don said. " Too warm." Don removed his hand, and Charlie rubbed the area to get the feel out. But it wasn't so bad. His skin had not adopted that sensation of crawling.

" I-I threw up because I saw Leon again," Charlie blurted.

Don stiffened. " Where?"

" Outside, across the street. At least, I think it was him. I saw him at the school, too. It was definitely him at the school. Do you think he's following me, Don? I mean could he be, or am I just seeing things?"

Don began rubbing his jaw, then the back of his neck. " Maybe. Listen, I'm staying over like I promised. I'll call David in, we can do a quick search, see if Leon might be around. You need to do something for me though."

" What?"

" Tomorrow, let me take you to the doctor. You need to go, Charlie. If you don't, Dad'll tranquilize you and drag you there himself. And I'm not joking, he's ready to do it."

Charlie still shuddered at the thought. But, again, he didn't want to be a coward, and his side was worse today than it ever had been before, as though screaming at him to stop ignoring the pain.

Charlie nodded his head. " Yeah, okay Don. I'll go. Tomorrow, though," he added hastily. Not today, not just yet.

Don smiled. " Great, now maybe dad can chill."

Don pushed himself to his feet, and Charlie tried to do the same, but fell against his desk, knocking his side that erupted into fresh agony. He cried out, then began sliding to the floor, but felt a hand wrap gently around his bicep. At first, he tried to pull away, but didn't even have the strength for that.

" Easy buddy. Come on, I got you."

Charlie gave in to the contact, and allowed Don to haul him up slowly, then escort him to the bed. Charlie tried not to lean against Don but couldn't help it. His legs might as well have been made out of jell-o.

Don held Charlie up by the arm in one hand and pulled down the blankets with the other. Still dressed and not caring, Charlie climbed into the bed and dropped onto his good side, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Don pulled the blankets over him.

" I'll get a Tylenol and some ice. You want anything to eat?"

Charlie groaned. " Not really."

" A drink then?"

" Yeah, okay."

" Great. Try to sleep if you can, even if it's not great in the end."

Charlie closed his eyes, but doubted he would be slipping off into sweet oblivion soon. His side hurt too much for that.

" It'll be okay, Charlie. We'll get this guy."

Charlie's throat constricted. " Don?"

" Yeah?"

" Um, th-thanks."

" No problem."

But it was a problem, because no words could express the gratitude that overwhelmed Charlie, and the shame that threatened to drown him.

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A/N: Someone asked me what A/N: means. It stand for Author's Note.

I did a little research on Bi-polar disorder, but it was just general information. If I got something wrong in the info, or Leon's behavior, I apologize. I also apologize for not getting this up sooner. Busy weekend. Just went to my first Renaissance Fair, hoorah! I highly recommend them.