Ch. 12

Facing Facts

Charlie was stuck in an uncomfortable silence as he rode with Don to the campus. He wanted to say something by way of an explanation as to why he didn't want to go back to that warehouse. He felt an explanation was needed, even though Don insisted that he understood.

But what was it he understood exactly? That I'm afraid? Too scared to go back even with the FBI all over the place?

Coward, coward, coward...

Charlie closed his eyes and felt his insides shrivel. That whispering, biting, laughing word was never said by his own voice. It was always Leon saying it, because he had known. because he was right. All Charlie ever did was escape, then hide and avoid. He had never understood why and still didn't, and pondering it had caused him to think back to when his mother had been dieing. The initial shock and disbelief on learning that his mother wasn't going to be around for much longer had escalated into a paralyzing terror. He literally had been unable to move. But how that led him into PvsNP he couldn't recall. It just happened really, as though he had fallen asleep and drifted into a dream. But all that dream had done was to temporarily numb him, so perhaps it was less like going into a dream and more like slipping into a drug-induced stupor. Coming out of it had been hell; weariness and a deep, stabbing sorrow consuming him like white fire until all he could do was retch and sob.

Pathetic, too.

" You know what?" Charlie said, trying to sound a matter of fact though his voice cracked slightly. " Maybe I should go with you. I mean it can't hurt right?" He looked over at Don and smiled wanly. Don looked at Charlie as though he had just lost it.

" You sure about that, Charlie?"

Charlie swallowed and nodded, forcing a manner of nonchalance. " Yeah, I am. It's just a place, right? Besides, by retracing my steps I might be able to calculate the exact location of the place and then we wouldn't waste so much time searching in hopes of stumbling on it like I did."

Don glanced at Charlie incredulously, then shrugged. " Okay then, if that's what you want."

Charlie nodded, and said with as much conviction as he could muster, " It is."

On arriving at the school, Charlie was suddenly stabbed by guilt. He needed to get back to teaching and let Amita have a break. It was ridiculous, all this hiding.

Unless seeing Leon wasn't a hallucination.

The agents drove into the near-empty parking lot. It was late afternoon, on a Friday, the day when there were the fewest classes.

The agents piled out of the car and clustered together behind them. There was Agent McAllister, Hanson, and four other agents, plus David and Megan. Don filled them in on Charlie's change of heart, then they let him lead the way as he retraced his steps that stormy day when all hell had literally broken loose.

The sidewalk along the street had always been his usual route home. Once upon a time, every detail of that route had been burned into his brain to become as familiar and simple to him as the times table. Thanks to that instinctual recollection, he had managed to find his way home. But now as he walked the path, he began to notice new details; steep inclines and hills he had one taken for shallow ditches, bramble choked pathways leading into the woods, the amount of traffic continually streaming by (he had never thought it this heavy). They were small differences really, nothing easily noticed unless one were paying attention. And since when did Charlie every pay full-on attention to anything? Especially when whipping past his surroundings blurred by speed.

The woods would stop at the bridge, which was still a ways off. Charlie remembered riding hard and fast, trying to get out of the pounding rain. He had veered - he must have – onto one of these forgotten paths. His fall had been unobstructed, a place where there had been either few trees or no trees at all. One thing he was certain of, it had all happened before he crossed the bridge.

The trees were fairly close together, except for where paths appeared. When they came to a path wider than the others – wide enough for a bike rider to veer onto easily, where no branches could snag or slap him, Charlie turned onto it. Had he just turned sooner, he would have collided with a tree, and never met Leon.

" This might be it," Charlie said. " But I can't be sure."

Then he was sure. The density of the trees on either side of the wide path hid what lay behind. The trees ended suddenly, and the steep hill afforded them a clear view of what lay on the other side. Charlie's heart plummeted to his feet, and his blood went cold.

There was the warehouse, at the bottom of the hill and several yards away. Seeing it struck Charlie like a blow to the gut, and that old paralyzing fear rooted him to the spot.

" That the place?" McAllister asked, but his voice sounded far away and resonating, like something disembodied. It became lost in the shouts in Charlie's brain, all screaming at him that he needed to leave, needed to run, now.

Charlie felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, snapping his head around to look at a worried Don.

" Sorry buddy," Don said, removing his hand. " You kind of froze up there. I'm assuming this is the place?"

Charlie, unable to suppress a shudder, nodded numbly. The rest of the agents picked their way carefully down the hill, sliding part way and creating small avalanches of pebbles and dust. Only Don stayed behind, waiting for Charlie.

" You want to go back?" he asked.

Charlie's heart pounded, his hands shook, and his legs felt as though they might give way at any moment.

It's just a place, and empty place. I'm not alone this time. Don's here.

But there was a part of Charlie that dreaded walking toward that place, only to wake up halfway there and find that everything else – his escape, coming home, talking to his dad and Don, going to the doctors – had all been the dream. That he was still in that place, with Leon towering over him, readying another kick.

" Charlie?" Don asked again.

Coward!

Charlie shook his head stiffly.

" I don't know, Charlie. You're starting to go all pale, maybe you shouldn't do this..."

" I need to," Charlie said with gritted teeth, and proceeded down the hill.

It was always said that by facing one's fears, they can be overcome. Charlie believed that, or at least he wanted to. But the closer he got to the warehouse, the faster his heart beat and the quicker his breath came. He shrank, curving his back slightly, like a frightened child forced to approach a leering bully. Charlie knew that feeling all too well, and he hated it. But he couldn't stop it either.

McAllister and three other agents had gone inside the place, while the rest covered the grounds outside.

Charlie kept moving toward the warehouse, his spine rigid enough to snap, his muscles tense enough to pull apart, and his mind shouting in panic. Don walked beside him like an escort, relaxed say for the betrayal of concern in his eyes. He glanced at Charlie now and then, but had yet to say anything more.

Charlie stopped outside the warehouse door, staring up at the windows that stared back; empty eye-sockets, and even emptier darkness. Charlie shivered with imagined cold and remembered pain. Pain inflicted for no reason, unless Charlie was so naïve he couldn't even see the reason. Charlie didn't put it past himself to be that oblivious.

Charlie froze up again. He knew he did because he found he couldn't move his legs. Terror was suddenly stifled by anger.

This is stupid! It's just a place! Stop being afraid of a place! Leon isn't even here.

The anger thawed Charlie's nerves enough for him to move again. He strode stiffly into the building, Don keeping perfect pace since he had longer legs. Charlie faltered for a moment when he found the lights to be on, and it momentarily disoriented him. He only knew the place as being drenched in shadows, and he felt a small twinge of relief to be able to see the place in full, as though it were a different place all together.

The warehouse was huge as warehouses usually are, with a metal grated walkway going the perimeter of the building, and doors everywhere. Charlie continued on toward the back and an open doorway leading to a flight of stairs. Charlie took them quickly, and on reaching the bottom his gaze became transfixed on the sliding door already pulled open and light spilling out beyond it.

Charlie slowed, approaching as though walking up to a vicious monster trying to sleep. He saw the shadows of the other agents moving around, and slowed even more. He began trembling, and felt suddenly very small and cold.

" This is hard, Don." He looked up at his older brother. " It's a stupid place. It shouldn't be so hard."

Don returned Charlie's gaze sympathetically. " Bad stuff happened here, Charlie. Of course it's going to be hard." Don then looked away, down toward the floor, and sighed, placing his hands on his hips. " I don't think this was a good idea, Charlie. You're not ready for it."

Charlie looked toward the door and took a deep breath, gagging on the smell of mold and bad water. " I'm not a little kid, Don. I shouldn't have to be protected like this. There's no reason, no logical reason, to be afraid of this place. And I'm sick of being afraid. I want to do this and get it over with."

Charlie forced his body to move before Don could say anything else. Charlie walked into the room, not as quickly as he would have liked. He slowed even more once beyond the threshold, moving with the caution of an animal coming out of its hole to check for predators.

The place was empty say for a few stained fast-food wrappers and sacks. The sight of them nearly caused Charlie to choke on his breath.

Why am I doing this? I'm not proving anything, I'm just making it worse.

A cold sweat broke out on Charlie's forehead, and sweat trickled down his back and flanks. His breath kept coming fast and short, and it felt difficult to breathe. He managed to make his way to the boxes, then around them. A female agent was crouched, looking at something on the floor.

" Found some blood," she announced. Charlie craned his neck to peer over her shoulder, and saw splotches of smeared blood on the concrete, right where he had been laying. He looked at the crate he had sat against, and saw stains that were darker than the molding wood.

Full, untainted reality finally hit Charlie with the force of a speeding semi. It had happened, it was real, it always had been real... and he was back at where it had started.

Charlie had never considered himself claustrophobic, but he was feeling it now, and his body surged with the adrenaline of panic. He turned, and moved quickly from the room, back up the stairs and through the chamber to the open outside and the fresher air. But once outside, he kept moving, heading in the direction of the warehouse road, only to stop abruptly on seeing Megan several feet ahead, looking around.

The panic drained from Charlie, and left him numb and confused. He could not stop trembling, yet was able to steady his breathing and take in lungfuls of clean, warm air. The sun was beginning to set, slipping away on the edge of twilight that cooled the sky. There was a cool breeze that smelled of pine, cedar, soil, and touched with the faint oder of exhaust. In the silence, Charlie could hear the distance rushing whisper of traffic.

It was like an alternate reality to that in the warehouse; two worlds completely separate from each other and oblivious to each other. But this reality – the outside everyday world – was reassuring, calming, and far more tangible. Charlie's shivering toned itself down to occasional tremors, and his heart had stopped slamming hard enough to break more ribs.

But with the fear gone, shame was able to slip in. He had run from the warehouse like a spooked four year old from a strange adult, and it made his face burn with embarrassment.

" Charlie?"

Charlie looked over his shoulder at Don. He hadn't realized he had approached, but then Don had always been good at that.

Don had his hands in the pocket of his FBI jacket, and except for the worry in his gaze had a relaxed air about him that Charlie suddenly despised out of jealousy. Charlie wished he could be that relaxed, at least once in his life.

" It was too soon, Charlie," Don said. " That's all. You needed more time."

Charlie turned to face Don, but could not look at him. Instead, he let his eyes rove over the ground, then the trees in the distance.

" Don, Do you... I mean... Do you see me, or maybe, sometimes, think of me as being... um, cowardly?"

" What? Charlie..."

Charlie finally tore his eyes from their wanderings and forced himself to look at Don. He wanted to see the truth – pure truth – and not just hear words minced by brotherly concern. Even Don had to realize the truth.

" Come on Don, admit it, it's true! I am. What else would you call what I did when mom was dieing, or when you got shot?" Charlie's gaze began to wander again, because in all truth he had never been good about holding gazes, especially when he turned inward to his thoughts. " I hide Don. I always hide. I can't – I can't handle anything bad. I never face anything. I go and I hide. What would you call that, Don? Coping? My way of handling things? Leon was right about me. He saw the truth. I couldn't even handle it when my equation didn't find the smugglers in time. I had to come up with something better. I felt like it was my fault. People walk into a room, and they startle me. I'm always getting spooked, my heart's always jumping..." Charlie shook his head, his throat constricting with sorrow and his eyes stinging with tears.

It was quiet for a moment, enough for Charlie to hear the crickets in the distance chirping their monotonous interlude. Had what happened at this place not tainted it, Charlie might have found their surroundings to be peaceful.

" You had every right to be mad at me when I hid while mom was dying," Charlie blurted. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared at the ground. " Every right." He smiled bitterly. " I deserved it."

Charlie heard the crunch of gravel as Don shifted his weight to his other foot. " Charlie... You didn't deserve any of the crap I gave you after mom died. Yeah, okay, I didn't get it, but that didn't give me the right to keep blowing up at you. Hell, I probably only made it worse. Probably drove you deeper, scared you more. I never thought about it before... but I've been thinking about a lot lately. And you know what, Charlie? I've started realizing a few things. Like the past couple of days, I could have forced you to tell me about Leon. I could have gotten mad, grabbed your arm, your collar... you know... like I did when I tried to get you out of the garage?"

Charlie winced slightly at the memory. Charlie's arm had been sore for days, and there had been bruises on his collar bones where Don's knuckles had dug as he had gripped Charlie's shirt. There had also been insults, nasty ones, but Charlie didn't remember them exactly. Just that they had added to the mountain of pain crushing him after he had emerged from his sanctuary.

" Anyways," Don continued. " There's a lot of things I could have done. Yeah, it might have gotten things done faster, but it wouldn't have helped you, which was all that really mattered. And it made me realize that... I should have done it a lot sooner, if you know what I mean. I never even tried to understand why you did what you did. I was hurting too, and didn't see much else going on around me. Your pain wasn't the same as my pain, so I didn't understand it, I didn't even want to try to. It wasn't right... what I did, I mean. I wouldn't see past myself. I didn't realize how bad it was until you came out, looking sick and skinny like that... I guess you could say, I kind of hid too, but I find being angry a lot easier than doing math."

Charlie looked up at Don, taken back by the sudden confession, and so surprised that for a moment Charlie wondered if this was really his brother standing before him. Don had never been open about anything before, not like this and not so easily. And Charlie did not know whether to cry in appreciation or be worried because it meant that things were a lot worse than they seemed, and it was getting to Don as well.

Then Don smiled and waved for Charlie to come over.

" Come here."

Charlie nervously complied, then cringed, trying to back away, when Don draped his arm around his neck. But when Charlie tried to maneuver from the loose embrace, Don just pulled him back. He began guiding Charlie away from the building, back toward the hill.

" Come on, Charlie, relax, just relax. Listen to me. You are not a coward, you hear me? A coward wouldn't even try to face his fear, and you're trying. You just... you think on different terms than most people, handle things different. I mean face it, there's some things you don't get right away, and some things you don't get at all. Like that time I made that comment about putting the dog into witness protection because it saw it's owner die. You actually thought I was serious."

Charlie allowed a small smile at the memory. " I only asked if that was possible."

" Yeah, but you were freakishly sincere about it. You've got a unique brain in that head of yours, Charlie. You deal how you deal. That doesn't make you a coward."

" You're just saying that because you're my brother and you have to."

Don chuckled. " Charlie, as your brother, I should be saying the opposite. Or calling you a geek. But I like to think I matured at least a little bit over the years."

Charlie allowed another small, temporary smile. Then he glanced back at the receding warehouse. Cold crept down Charlie's back, making him shudder.

They stopped at the foot of the hill, and Don slid his arm from around Charlie's neck. Charlie had forgotten it had been there.

" Wait here, Charlie," Don said. He moved away from Charlie, calling to David who had emerged from around the warehouse. David jogged over toward Don, and Don met him the rest of the way. They were distanced away enough from Charlie for him to have to strain to hear. He heard his name, the mention of his house, and setting up some form of surveillance around the neighborhood.

It was a cold realization to the fact that this wasn't over, and an even colder realization that Charlie really hadn't faced what was truly scaring him. The building was only a reminder of his terror, of what happened. Leon was what he was afraid of, and he wasn't exactly someone Charlie could just walk up to and face.

Don could, but Charlie wasn't Don. Charlie wasn't like most people, and though Don's words had been comforting, they weren't reassuring. Charlie couldn't shake his self-opinion. Fear just came too easily for him than it did for Don.

McAllister exited the warehouse, followed by another agent, and joined Don and David's little conference. Charlie moved slightly closer to listen in better. McAllister was only confirming the obvious – that Leon had been gone for a while. Don confirmed that the blood was most likely Charlie's since he had scraped up his back.

All in all, there wasn't much in the way of being useful to discover. But just in case, McAllister suggested putting up surveillance around the place, should Leon return.

But he won't return, Charlie thought. His focus was pulled from the conversation to turn inward, analyzing, calculating. McAllister had said they'd been tracking Leon for a year, which meant the guy was good at hiding. He was smart, and recruited as a mastermind because of it, which meant he knew how to plan. And Hanson had the suspicion that Leon, despite his mental state, knew what he was doing. He knew math, he understood Charlie's equations, got them at a glance.

Leon had been right about something else; whether Charlie liked it or not, they were kindreds in a small way. They were both men of logic, of patterns and calculations, even perfectionists. The only way Leon could have eluded the Feds for so long was if he had a method to his hiding; a plan or pattern. He would seek out places to hide, which would keep him on the move. He would chose those places with the fewest people, or with so many people it would be easy to become lost in a crowd. Financial info would be at his disposal for money needs, and he could easily switch to various people's accounts. But above all, he would not come back to the same spot.

A Neighborhood like Charlie's would make for an ideal hiding place. Low crime-rates, so lack of need for police. Same with the campus. It made Charlie wonder if Leon was following him in hopes of finding a place to hide.

Then why pop up all the time? If Leon was watching him, then he would know by now that he had a brother who was a Fed. That discovery should have chased Leon off, but Charlie continued to spot him at various places and times. It didn't make sense.

But Charlie didn't need anyone telling him he was missing the most important factor, the one he always missed: the human element. It always had a way of throwing everything off,of altering all outcomes like a domino affect. It was also why – as Don had put it – Charlie didn't get things right away, or didn't get things at all. People just weren't meant to be broken down into equations.

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A/N: I have a confession to make. I had know idea how I was going to end this story... Until now. We are nearing the end, though I can't say for sure how many chapters are left since they may be short. Things will soon take an interesting – and hopefully intense – turn. Prepare to be shocked!

I also want to apologize for all the fluff the past couple of chapters. But - dang it! - it's necessary. After all, I wanted a story with a more caring Don because he always seems like such a grouch and - at times - a little rude to Charlie. If you think he's a little too caring or too open, you'll know why in the next chapter. Unless you already know, then it's all good.