A/N: Just a small smidgen of fluff in this one, and only for a moment. Things are about to take an unusual turn.

Ch.13

Absence of Reason

It was going to be a cool night, the kind that at any other time would have had Don sitting outside with a plate of food and a beer, with Charlie sitting next to him. It was the kind of night that allowed them to just sit and talk about nothing and everything, where work had no meaning and only reminiscing mattered.

But it wasn't like they did that all the time. It was more a haphazard tradition, and dependent on the weather and their perspective moods. Today, however, circumstance was the problem.

Don skirted the koi pond, flashing the beam of his light into the shadows on the other side of the tree. He had made outside rounds with David three times now, and still felt dissatisfied. The situation was altering his perspective, making the house and backyard seem much larger, with too many nooks and crannies for someone to crouch in and hide. There were too many shadows, not to mention a lot of dogs barking tonight.

Don had to pull himself from the pond and into the house. David was already inside, having finished, and was talking to a rather tense Alan. Charlie was no where in sight.

Don clicked off his flashlight, shoving it into his side pocket, then dropped himself onto the couch. He glanced at the clock on the wall; eight-thirty seven. Not that the time meant anything, but Don could have sworn it was much later. It felt much later.

Don and David were the only ones taking watch on the house. McAllister had his team covering the streets, making periodic rounds in cars, and before that – when there was still daylight left - asking passerby questions.

Neither Don nor McAllister believed they would find Leon tonight. Everything they were doing was a precaution, and neither had yet to decide how long they were going to keep it up. Both men believed Leon would be long gone by now, but both Megan and Hanson were skeptical. Leon was too unpredictable, so it was better to just play it safe.

Don glanced over at Alan and David and watched as they finished up their conversation. David then headed into the garage for another check. Alan moved to the easy chair and eased himself into it with a satisfied grunt.

" What'd you two have to talk about?" Don asked his father. Alan sighed contentedly, his body visibly loosening as though he were melting into the chair.

" Feel like I've been on my feet all day," he said. " Of course, that's probably nothing compared to how you boys feel. Me and David? Just assuring me on a few things. You know, comfort words like 'I doubt Leon will show up here since he probably knows we're watching the place', and so on."

Don smiled. " It's probably true, you know."

Alan shrugged. " Yeah, probably. I mean you do know more about this than I ever could."

Don nodded, then glanced around. " Where's Charlie?"

" Upstairs, hopefully getting ready for bed. We have to make sure he takes one of those sleeping pills."

Don pulled his head back in alarm. " You're actually not trusting Charlie to do what he's supposed to? Dad, the guy won't even microwave soup without reading the directions first. And since when has he ever not done what we've asked him to?"

Alan looked over at his older son. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough.

Come on Donnie, you know it too.

And Alan was right. Charlie wasn't acting like Charlie, which meant that anything was officially possible. There was a good chance he wouldn't take the pill, fearing that if he fell asleep he wouldn't be ready should Leon come.

Don's heart sank at that. Charlie was so worn out, emotionally, physically, even mentally. During the ride home, he had heard his brother mumbling something that Don had no doubts were some kind of calculations. He caught his brother, out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes in frustration more then once. Until he sighed and slumped in his seat, shuddering. He had asked Don to turn on the heat, despite the warmth outside.

Charlie had also kept shifting, stretching, arching his back as though the seat were digging into his spine, then rubbing the back of his neck. And through it all, Charlie had worn a tight-faced expression of discomfort. When Don had asked him what was wrong, Charlie had mumbled about feeling sore everywhere.

Pale face, sunken eyes, shivering, and soreness; Charlie was sick.

Alan had noticed it sooner, because he had made soup rather then urged Charlie to eat the steak and potatoes he had made. Charlie would have just puked it up anyways.

" Don, I gotta tell you," Alan said, snapping Don from his reverie. Don looked back over at his father.

" The way you've been handling Charlie," he continued. " I'm proud of you, Don, I really am. If it hadn't been for you, I think things would have ended up a lot worse."

Don shrugged. " What, it's no big deal."

Alan leaned forward slightly on the arm of the chair. " Yes it is Don. You're the reason we know what's going on now, and you're the one who got Charlie to see a doctor. You've really been there for him, Don. More than I was, that's for sure. I've been on the brink of panic since he vanished, and had it been all up to me I probably would have driven Charlie over the edge. but you got it, Don. You knew what to do."

Don looked away from his father and shifted in discomfort. " I think Megan deserves more credit. She's the reason I knew what to do."

" But you're the one who did it. You were the one with the patience." Now it was Alan who shrugged. " Usually, you're not like that with him. Usually... You're impatient. Not all the time, mind you. But to tell you the truth I've never seen you this patient with him."

Don rubbed his face tiredly. " To tell you the truth, Dad, it kind of surprises me too." He then sighed, dropping his hand. " I think..." He squinted thoughtfully. " I think – seeing him, when he came home, the way he was acting – I think it scared me. I was worried, really worried. I still am dad. What's going on with Charlie isn't over. Leon might not even be following him, he might just be seeing him because he's still terrified. How do you deal with that, when you're brother's hallucinating because of what happened to him? I changed the situation, dad, I didn't fix the problem."

Alan folded his hands together and sat back. " Well, you can't fix everything, Don. Get this Leon guy, and maybe it'll bring Charlie some peace. But it's still up to him to let that peace come."

Don nodded, then ran both hands through his hair. He still didn't see what he did as a big deal. If anything it should have been described more as selfishness. He wanted the old Charlie back. He wanted to see the bright spark of energy in his brother's countenance, not fear and confusion.

But isn't that what Charlie wants too? Don thought. Things back to normal, to the way things were? It was something they both wanted.

It was something they had in common.

The thought made Don smile. Don's impatience with Charlie was mostly due to the fact that half the time he didn't get him. But he was getting him now, more than he ever had before. Charlie was scared and Don was scared for Charlie – common ground for both of them.

But Don would give up all the common ground in the world if it meant his brother didn't have to be afraid anymore.

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Charlie took a deep breath. In his intent on listening and his need for silence to hear, he had forgotten to breathe.

"... Get this Leon guy, and maybe it'll bring Charlie some peace..."

Alan's voice floated up the stairs, subdued by the short distance so that Charlie's own thudding heart almost made him miss it. He didn't mean to ease drop, but the moment he had heard his name he had stopped and became rooted at the top of the stairs, hidden by shadows.

Don had said it again, about how everything he was doing for Charlie was no big deal. Charlie wished he would start realizing that it wasn't. Though why it was so important Don understood this, Charlie didn't know. It just was. It mattered beyond anything Charlie could put into words.

Charlie turned and shuffled back to his room and to his desk. He dropped himself down into his chair and pulled a scrawl-littered paper toward him. His new equations were mostly hypothesis and scenarios, but they did the trick. They proved that it would be very easy for an intelligent man like Leon to formulate a pattern that would keep him off the authority radar. Plotting of police patrol rounds, the number of police seen in certain neighborhoods, times of heaviest foot traffic in the cities, and remote areas with various food sources at walking distance. Not difficult planning, really, if one were thorough and meticulous.

Charlie's neighborhood fit Leon's needs. The only authorities that came around here were Don, and whoever he happened to invite over from the office. There was a park a few blocks away that sometimes had foot patrols, but only two or three at most. There was also a neighborhood watch set up, but obviously they had yet to see Leon as a threat, or would have mentioned something about a suspicious man lurking around when Don questioned the head of the watch.

Get this Leon guy...

Would there be 'getting him'? If he was obsessed with perfectionism as he seemed to be, then no.

Except, however, for the fact that Leon had made a mistake. It was not a certainty, just a hunch, but the numbers agreed. Charlie had been gone for three days, and ditched on the fourth. Three days was plenty of time to scope for new hiding places. If Leon's own calculations indeed opted for that time line of three to four days, then he had flawed his own plan. Charlie had been spotting Leon for longer than three days, and always in the neighborhood.

It just added to the lack of logic that plagued Charlie about this man and his patterns. The outcome of the equations insisted that Leon should be long gone by now, and that what Charlie was seeing was only in his head.

Uncertainty was making Charlie's head spin. The human element was still the missing factor, but not Leon's human element – Charlie's. His own terror and confusion were getting in the way. Either the terror was so strong that it was making him see things, or once again he was trying to avoid what was right in front of him. None of this was going to end until Charlie proved one or the other to be the fact; either he was insane, or Leon had lost all reason and deviated from his pattern.

Don and the team could be patrolling the streets forever, searching for a phantom Charlie would not stop seeing.

Not until he was sure. But there was only one way to be sure.

Charlie stared at the paper as though it might leap up and bite him at any moment. He knew what he needed to do, and in fact had known it since leaving the warehouse.

If Leon was out there, and he still needed his hostage...

Charlie started trembling and could not stop. He had it all planned out, every detail. Mixed in with the scrawlings of Leon's example plan was Charlie's own plan, and as he looked it over for the fiftieth time, perfecting the minor details, his empty stomach churned furiously.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

It was foolish, stupid, dangerous. Charlie knew it, so kept hesitating. Don was going to be angry at him for this, but Charlie could see no other way around it. It really did have to be done, or it would never be over. Leon would forever be there.

Charlie stood on shaking legs. He was already dressed for bed wearing sweats and a blue T-shirt. He knew he was registering unease like a candle in a cave, but also knew that Don and Alan would pass it off as unease at having to take sleeping pills. He headed out of his room, only to pause on the stairs again. He wanted to turn back, wait a little while until his stomach calmed and his hands stopped shaking. He clasped them tightly together, then forced his stiff limbs to carry him down the stairs.

Don and their father were talking about the past and the time Charlie had done Don's math homework without permission because he needed something to do. Charlie remembered that. He had been ten, and Don had reprimanded him in front of their parents, then patted him on the back when they were out of the room. It made Charlie smile, then his eyes burned with tears.

What am I doing?

" Charlie?" he heard Don say. Charlie quickly blinked back the moisture trying to flood his vision.

" Ready for bed, Charlie?" Alan asked. Charlie stiffly nodded his head, but stayed where he was. Alan stood from his seat and headed into the kitchen to get the pills when it was obvious Charlie wasn't taking another step. Don also rose and headed over to Charlie, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Charlie gave a slight flinch but did not pull away.

" You really need this Charlie," Don said. " And it'll be all right. We've got the house secured."

Not secured enough, Charlie thought guiltily. Charlie had listened in and watched as Don mapped out what they needed to do to keep the house sufficiently watched. It involved periodic rounds, shifts – patterns. Through the patterns, Charlie had mapped out his plan.

It was the first step of this plan that was making Charlie nauseous.

Charlie saw Don's bag by the couch.

" I-I need to sit down," he said, his voice harsh with raw nerves. He shuffled to the couch and sat down right by the bag. Don sat on the other side.

The bag was open. Inside were spare clothes... and Don's extra gun.

Charlie's stomach roiled even more fiercely, and his trembling increased. He felt Don's hand lightly touch his back.

" You okay buddy?"

Bile rose burning into Charlie's throat and he swallowed it back. He shrank with the weight of terrible guilt, and shook his head.

" I-I feel sick..."

Don abruptly stood and turned. " Hey dad, I think we need a bowl in here."

I'm using feeling ill against them, Charlie thought in self-disgust. Then, while Don had his back turned, Charlie doubled over, his hand striking out to snatch the gun. He slipped it under his shirt, tucking it in his pants at the hip so it could be obscured by his arm.

Alan hurried into the living room with a metal bowl, and got it under Charlie just in time. Very little came up, just a thin stream of cloudy liquid. Charlie dry-heaved, coughed fitfully, and grimaced with the pain it caused. He sucked in a ragged breath and closed his watering eyes. He felt exhausted enough to collapse, but too wired to stay down should it happen.

" Sure he'll be able to keep a pill down?" Don asked.

Alan sighed. " Let's hope so."

Alan set the bowl on the coffee table, then went back into the kitchen. He brought out a glass of water and one of the pills, handing both to Charlie. Charlie took the pill and popped it in his mouth, but hid the bitter thing under his tongue. He swallowed a few sips of water, wiped his mouth, and nodded.

Alan nodded in return. " Good, now go to bed before that thing kicks in."

Charlie rose onto unsteady legs and shuffled quickly to the stairs. He hurried up, and once at the top, hidden by the shadows, he spit the pill into his hand and paused, staring at it. Tears fogged his vision, and no matter how hard he swallowed, the tightness in his throat refused to loosen.

What am I doing?

Charlie hurried into the bathroom, tossing the pill into the wastebasket, then slipped quietly into his room.

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A/N: To be Continued! Am I evil or what?

Just what is Charlie up too? Do you think you know? You must wait to find out. Mwhahahahahahahaha!