Ch. 16
Epilogue
" Kind of hard to keep your mind on the job," Megan said, " when it wants to be other places."
They were standing outside the interrogation room, watching McAllister pace in front a stoic, blank-faced Leon. The man was back on his meds, and at the moment seemed harmless as a kitten and somber as a statue. He had his hands folded on the table top, and was staring at them with a distant gaze.
Don knew that look. Leon was turned inward, thinking deep and private thoughts. Amazing he could do it with McAllister pacing like an annoyed wolf, barking out questions.
Occasionally, Leon would open his mouth and utter a single reply – sometimes yes, sometimes no. He was being as cooperative as a subdued little kid.
No, that didn't fit, Don thought. More like someone who just didn't care anymore.
And in all truth, Don really didn't care much himself. The case wasn't his anymore, and he didn't mind. Leon was in custody, and that was good enough for him. Now all he had left to worry about was Charlie.
" You know what surprises me?" Megan said next.
" Yeah?"
" Why you haven't ask the obvious question."
" Which is?"
" What Charlie was thinking when he went after Leon. I honestly thought you would be hounding me with that one by now."
Don squinted slightly, thoughtfully, then shrugged indifferently. He had had that question on his mind, but some time between finding Charlie, taking Leon in, going back to Charlie's place only to find his little brother passed out in bed, then nodding off on the couch - he had just plain forgotten about it. In the whole scheme of things, his questions of 'why' had lost all relevancy. All that mattered was whether his brother would be all right.
McAllister had finished his interrogation, and he and another agent began escorting Leon from the room. On walking out, Leon's head turned, his heavy-lidded gaze landing directly on Don. He jerked, indicating to the agents that he wanted to stop.
" You're Chuck's brother, right?" he asked.
Don, uncertain if replying to this man was a good idea, nodded anyways.
Leon nodded in return. " Tell him he was right."
Don felt his spine prickle as his protective instincts went on alert. He eyed Leon warily. " Why? About what?"
" Everything. Just tell him. He'll know what I mean. Oh, and that I'm sorry."
" Come on," the other agent growled, pulling on Leon's restrained arm. Leon turned away to stare at the floor and let himself be taken.
" See," Megan said. " Remorse. Even if it didn't sound all that sincere."
Don nodded. Remorse or not, mentally ill or not, Don still wanted to deck the man for the crap he had put Charlie through.
But Leon had apologized, even if it had sounded flat. Not even a mentally stable criminal would have done that much.
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It was another warm, gold-tinted afternoon when Don arrived at Charlie's house. Which meant it would be a perfect night for sitting out doors, should Charlie be up to it.
Don hoped Charlie was up to it. He hadn't talked to him in what felt like an eternity, though it had only been yesterday when he had aided his dad in getting Charlie to take the pill he obviously never swallowed.
As soon as he entered the living room, Don banished all thoughts of a quiet sit in the back yard. Charlie was curled up on the couch, buried under a mound of blankets pulled all the way up to his head. The face that was supposed to be placid with sleep was white and grimacing with discomfort.
" He didn't want to stay in his room," Alan said when he emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. He set it down on the coffee table. " Said something about not wanting to be alone."
Don gestured to the soup – vegetable by the smell and look. " Is he eating?"
Alan shrugged. " He was barely awake for most of the day and he has a slight fever. But hey, no harm in trying to get something in his stomach. I have back-up ready, just in case."
He indicated the plastic wastebasket by the couch with a twitch of his head. Alan then wiped his hands on his sweater and headed back toward the kitchen.
" Want anything?" he asked Don. " There's still some soup, and I've got some fried chicken warming in the oven. Some potatoes and gravy on the side?"
Don smiled though his eyes never left Charlie. " Sounds great."
Alan vanished into the kitchen. Don went to sit in the easy chair. Steam from the soup coiled upward in lazy – almost hypnotic – tendrils. The soup smelled great, and Don was tempted to have a few bites before Charlie woke up. Chicken, however, sounded much better, and he could wait a little while longer.
A low whimper drew Don's attention back to Charlie. His brother was grimacing again, and shivering, trying to curl into himself. Don moved from the chair to kneel by the couch. He gently placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed.
" Charlie? Hey, Charlie, wake up. Come on buddy, you're dreaming."
Charlie sucked in a gasping breath as though about to sob, then opened his eyes. He blinked several times, taking in several more deep breaths. Don could feel Charlie's tension, even through the blankets, and also felt when it finally eased away. Charlie let out a sigh, then burrowed himself deeper into the blankets.
" You hungry, Charlie?" Don asked when he saw Charlie's eyes slipping closed. They snapped open, and Charlie lifted his head some off the pillow. He looked at the food with a tired but contemplative expression.
" Come on, Charlie," Don urged. " You've gotta eat. Sit up, I'll help."
As Charlie struggled to sit up, Don took him by the arm and gradually helped him ease into a sitting position. Charlie was in sweats and a T-shirt that read " I'm not Illiterate, I know who my parents are!" Don chuckled at seeing it. He'd given it to Charlie for Christmas as a sort of gag present. He'd never thought Charlie would ever actually wear it.
Charlie blinked groggily, pushing a shaking hand through his mop of hair tangling in his face, pushing it back. Don lifted the tray and set it in Charlie's lap, holding it in case Charlie needed an emergency lean toward the wastebasket.
Instead of eating, Charlie just stared at the soup. The forlorn expression on his pale faced made Don's worry rise a few degrees.
" Charlie, What's wrong?"
Charlie opened his mouth. " A-are you mad at me?" he said in a small, unsteady voice. He then swallowed, and turned his head to look at Don.
Man he looks scared, Don thought. It made his heart break, the way Charlie was looking at him, both nervous and ashamed.
" You know," he continued, swallowing again. " Because, I – um..." He let out a single, weak laugh. " Acted so stupid."
Don couldn't help a small laugh himself. " Yeah, what you did ranks high on the scale of dumb stunts. But hey, we all have our stupid moments. No, Charlie, I'm not mad at you. Maybe for a few minutes when I found you gone, but mostly I was just panicking. It's one thing when you're gone, and another when you're gone and one of my own guns is missing, then I find the clip in your room. I was scared, Charlie. But it's over now, no one got hurt, and that's all that really matters, right?"
Charlie looked back at his soup, then nodded.
Don patted him on the shoulder. " Right. So, rest assured, I'm not even remotely irritated with you. Now eat up, get a little meat back on your ribs. Dad's sick of seeing 'em through your clothes."
Charlie took the spoon and began swirling the soup. " I lost weight, doesn't mean I'm emaciated." Charlie then lifted the spoon, blowing on the soup, then stuck it in his mouth. He lowered the spoon, then waited before taking the next bite.
Don picked up the wastebasket. " Need it yet?"
Charlie was silent for a moment as he pondered, then shook his head. " Few more bites, then we'll see." So he took a few more, then more, and nothing happened.
" Dad cooking chicken?" he asked, pausing to sip some water.
" Yeah, why? Smells good enough to eat?"
Charlie grimaced slightly. " Not yet. I'll stick with the soup for now."
Don grinned, and rubbed his brother's back good-naturedly.
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Three Weeks Later
No one overcame anything in a day, Charlie especially. But peace does come to those who seek it. Despite Megan's rock-hard insistence that she was not a psychiatrist, she acted the part for Charlie whenever he needed to talk. It was preferable for him than trying to open up to some stranger. That alone would have taken months.
Charlie still wouldn't bike-ride to school, not yet at any rate. Perhaps in a few months, but it had only been three weeks since Leon's arrest.
As Don negotiated the halls of Calsci, making his way toward Charlie's office, he reflected on these things and other matters. Life was starting to feel normal again. He and Charlie had finally gotten what they both had so desperately wanted – normalcy.
The thing was, life's tragedies and unforeseen events had a way of ensuring that nothing ever went back to the way it was. It had been that way when their mother had died. But the changes of that time were out in the open; Don's moving back to L.A., his separation with Kim, and the closer relationship with his brother.
The changes of recent events were not so blatant. One had to look for them, or be aware enough to begin with to notice them. They couldn't be described or explained in words. They could only be witnessed over a small amount of time, and felt like an unseen presence.
Things were not as they had once been.
The door to Charlie's office was open, but then again when was it ever closed? Charlie liked people to always feel welcome.
Don stopped in the doorway and folded his arms. Charlie and Amita were sitting at the table, their heads closed together as they poured over and discussed some paper. Charlie was talking animatedly, pointing to something on the paper. Amita nodded in understanding, then scribbled something onto a notepad.
Don smiled, but not in amusement. He was hesitant to disturb this moment, watching Charlie be Charlie. Charlie's eyes were bright and alive with his usual spark of energy, and Don found he couldn't get enough of seeing it. In that brief moment, it was as though the man named Leon had never existed, and Charlie's nightmare had been only a dream after all.
But that's why they called them 'moments'. Don finally knocked on the door frame. Both Charlie's and Amita's head popped up at the same time, reminding Don of gophers peeking out of their hole.
" Hey Don," Charlie said, seeming a little surprised. Then he glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. " Oh, time to go, right."
Amita turned away to hide her grin. Charlie stood and began gathering his books, shoving them into his bag.
" Did that explanation help any?" Charlie asked Amita. Amita, also rising and gathering her papers, tapping them into a neat stack, nodded.
" Yeah, thanks Charlie." She stuck the papers in her folder, then headed toward the door. " See you tomorrow Charlie. Bye Don."
Don stepped out of the way, letting her pass. " Later," he said.
When Charlie had finally managed to cram his books into his bag, he slung the pack over his shoulder, then flipped off the light on heading out the door. He locked the door behind him, stuffing the keys into his pocket and pushing his hair out of his eyes. The two brothers then headed down the hall. Charlie flashed Don an apologetic smile.
" Sorry about that. I was paying attention to the time, I swear, then Amita comes in and we start talking about this theory that half the time I don't even get but find it fascinating all the same..."
Don smiled and laughed quietly. " Charlie, relax, it's okay. No big deal."
Charlie flashed another sheepish smile. " You keep saying that, you know. How it's no big deal? I mean not just about stuff like this... but, you know, with picking me up and all when dad can't."
Don shrugged. " Well, it isn't a big deal. I don't mind, Charlie. I really don't."
" I'll probably be using my bike again next week. I just need to make sure it's working right."
" Well, whenever you're ready. Like I said, I don't mind, and neither does dad."
They fell into silence. Don looked over at his brother. Charlie was staring at the floor trying to hold back a troubled expression and failing miserably.
So this is a brooding silence, Don thought. " Charlie look at me."
Charlie snapped his head around, meeting Don's gaze.
" You're not thinking about what you better not be thinking, are you?"
Charlie furrowed his brow in confusion. " Huh?"
" About being afraid all the time?"
Charlie looked away again. " Oh, that." He shrugged uncomfortably. " Maybe a little..."
Don draped his arms across Charlie's shoulders. " Charlie, after all the crap you went through, I would think you'd finally get it through your head that a coward wouldn't go looking for his attacker, carrying an unloaded gun despite the fact that you hate guns."
Charlie opened his mouth, about to respond, but couldn't so snapped it shut. There was no arguing with that logic, even though Charlie had yet to fully understand for himself why had done what he had done. Megan had tried to explain it in psychological terms, but when it came to the psyche and human behavior, Charlie was genuinely stumped, and only frustrated Megan with his many questions.
Don believed Charlie did understand why he had sought out Leon, but refused to admit it to himself or anyone else because it had been such an illogical action.
Like Don and everyone else kept trying to tell Charlie, human nature was not always logical. Even Charlie's human nature.
They headed outside into the bright day. The campus flowed with students and professors going in every possible direction, some hurrying and some taking their time, conversing in groups. Don led the way to the car, and when they arrived Charlie waited patiently as Don unlocked the doors, then slipped into the passenger side. Don climbed in and reached for his seatbelt.
" How did you know?" Charlie asked suddenly. Don clicked the belt into place, then stuck the key into the ignition.
" Know what?" The car rumbled to life.
" What I was thinking?"
Don grinned, pulling out of the parking lot. " Charlie, this may come as a shock, but I do get you sometimes."
The comment elicited a smile from Charlie.
Truthfully, Don probably got Charlie more now than he ever had before. It was one of the small, near-invisible changes, and Don didn't think it too bad.
The End
A/N: That's all folks! And thanks a billion for reading and leaving comments. I really enjoyed writing this, despite it being a little tricky in parts. I hope you like this ending, I always have trouble with endings. If I'm not careful I tend to keep going, and going, and going... You get the idea.
If I ever do another Numbers story, it probably won't be for a long while, unless I decide to do a one-shot. For now, I'm returning to doing something for CSI NY. I don't get plot bunnies, I get plot piranhas, and one is about to gnaw my leg off if I don't follow up on the story I've been outlining.
Also, has anyone seen the show Night Stalker? The new one on ABC, not the old episodes. It's not up on Fanfiction yet, which is very frustrating. I have a story for it, and nowhere to post it! Unless I should just post it on the place for the old episodes. What to do, what to do...
Acknowledgments, because it's cool to be acknowledged. Thank you all! Hugs and candy all around: (sorry if I don't mention everyone. So many names...)
16forever
Chaser 1
Charlies-anomoly
Seether 79
mt. suz
Radioactive Raccoony
Jessica
kokomocalifornia
leoloco
merryw
bree1387
cylentwind
Alice I
TheDudeLordOfFantasy – You and Alice I, thanks for pointing out the flaw in chapter five. You saved me from kicking myself numerous times.
Shoey
If I spelled anyone's name wrong, I apologize. But I think you all know how spell check can be. I swear it corrects words even when you don't want it to.