Thank you everyone for the reviews! They really make my day.

A/N: Just keep in mind that since this chapter was written before the start of season two, so some of the information may be inaccurate because it hadn't occurred on the show yet.

Inner Demons

Part 3/6

by Megan

Actions lie louder than words.

-Carolyn Wells

"Hey Don, how's Charlie doing?" Terry asked from her desk, looking up from her paperwork.

"Oh, he's doing great. If all goes well with the physical therapist today, he'll be home by supper time." Don was glad Charlie was doing so well. Everyone had been surprised at how quickly he'd started to recover once he'd agreed to take the pain killers.

"Already? Isn't it kind of soon?"

"Nah, the doctor tells me most people are only in the hospital a few days after this type of surgery. Charlie just had to stay a little longer because of the extra damage done by the bullet."

"How's your dad doing with all of this? It must have been a shock to hear Charlie had been shot. Especially considering you're the one with the dangerous job."

Don winced. This was still a sore subject. His dad had told him exactly what he thought about Charlie being taken to crime scenes. Alan had been immensely relieved to hear Charlie would be all right, and was proud of his son for saving the life of a young child. That didn't mean he wasn't angry Charlie had been put into that situation in the first place. When he said he'd be all right with Charlie going out and doing 'slightly dangerous things', this wasn't what he had meant.

"Dad's doing all right, but I think he's going to need some time to forgive me. I mean, I can't say as I blame him."

"You think this was your fault?"

"If I hadn't taken him, then this wouldn't have happened."

"You're right, it wouldn't have. Instead, a little girl would be dead. You had no way of knowing this was going to happen. What's important is that Charlie is going to be fine. Have you talked to him about it yet?"

Don's eyes focused on a point across the room as he thought about his brother's out of character behaviour.

"He hasn't really said much to me much past commenting on the hospital food. He's been a little withdrawn, but he is getting over a major injury. I'm heading home for dinner tonight so maybe I'll get a chance to talk with him then."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As the weeks passed, Charlie progressed from using crutches to a cane. The physical therapist was starting to talk about Charlie's returning to work in the near future. Unfortunately, Don hadn't had a chance to talk with Charlie. He'd cleverly side step the conversation every time. Charlie might not be good at lying, but he was a pro at avoiding important conversations.

Don arrived at the house after a long day at work to find Charlie headed from the living room to the kitchen with his stilted gait. It was odd seeing someone so young relying on a cane to get around. Trying to quell the guilt he was starting to feel, he greeted his brother.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Don. Are you staying for supper? I think there's enough left over stew if you're interested."

"Sure, sounds great, Charlie," Don replied, following his brother into the kitchen.

He watched with interest as Charlie reached for a prescription pill bottle on the counter and expertly popped the top off, pouring two pills into his hand. He was dismayed to realize it was Percocet.

"You're still taking that?'

"Hm?" Charlie looked up at him, confusion on his face.

"The Percocet. Haven't you been on it for a long time now?"

"It's none of your business, Don," Charlie nonchalantly stated.

"None of my business? Charlie, I'm just concerned about you is all. You never talk to me anymore. How am I supposed to know how you're doing?'

Charlie sighed before answering with a less than amused tone. "The pain has been bad, all right? The doctor said it might be because of all the damage so he's letting me stay on this a little longer."

"Okay. Was that so hard?"

Charlie ignored the question. "I'll be in the living room preparing a lecture. Dad should be home in an hour to help prepare supper."

"Preparing a lecture? You're not going back to work already, are you?" Don didn't want to see his brother's recovery hindered by the stress of returning to work.

"It's been five weeks. The physical therapist said at six weeks he'd see how I was doing and consider letting me return to work." With that, he limped into the living room leaving a confused Don standing in the kitchen.

Curious, Don reached for the pill bottle, reading the label. Take one tablet every 6 hours as directed by a physician. He felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. Maybe it was nothing. Charlie had said he was in pain. It still didn't stop the suspicious part of his mind from kicking into gear.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sitting in his SUV outside the doctor's office, Don patiently waited for his brother. Charlie had a follow up appointment at two, and had asked Don to pick him up after. Two weeks had passed, and Charlie had returned to teaching. The physical therapist had finished up with Charlie, telling him to still be careful and walk with the cane when necessary. Don hadn't seen him use the cane at all in the past week. In fact, Charlie had been pleasant and even talked to him occasionally. Maybe things were getting back to normal after all.

He watched with worry as Charlie emerged from the building wearing a less than thrilled expression on his face. He limped down the steps towards Don, clutching a single sheet of paper in one of his hands.

"Is everything all right, Buddy?" he asked once Charlie was seated in the passenger seat.

"Fine," Charlie snapped. No further explanation was forthcoming, so Don decided to leave it for now.

Charlie stared at the piece of paper in his hand, and tried to tamp down the disappointment flooding him. A prescription for an anti-inflammatory. A lousy anti-inflammatory with no narcotics what so ever. The doctor had been firm. Charlie had stayed on the Percocet for longer than needed and he was not going to prescribe any more.

"We need to stop at the pharmacy on the way home, Don," he morosely stated. Looking out the window, he tried to ignore Don's concerned glances at him.

"Sure, Charlie. No problem."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That night, Charlie lay in his completely darkened room staring at the ceiling. In the back of his mind, he knew something was wrong. His stomach roiled, and it took all his will power not to give in to his stomach's demand and run for the toilet. Sour bile burned the back of his throat, and the room spun wildly around him.

He pulled the blankets tighter around himself to ward off the cold seeping into his bones. The fact it was a balmy summer night didn't register with his hazy mind. All he knew was that he was cold and not feeling well. Stray thoughts, and bits and pieces of the days events came and went. It was like watching a movie that overlapped tracks and distorted the sound.

By the time morning rolled around, he'd only gotten two hours of sleep. Much to his disappointment, he'd lost the battle against the nausea and had barely made it to the bathroom in time. The movement hadn't done much for his hip or aching muscles, but the throwing up did help the nausea somewhat. He hoped he wasn't getting the flu. The timing couldn't be worse.

After standing in the shower for almost half an hour, he had started to feel better. The tension had fled his muscles, and the water washed the sticky sweat off his skin. He still felt tired, but his mind was clearer.

The smell of pancakes wafting into his room was doing nothing for his stomach, but he knew if he didn't make an appearance at some point his dad would come looking for him.

Pulling on the first set of clean clothes he could find, he ran a comb through his hair without bothering to put any sort of product in it, and took one last glance at himself in the mirror. The slightly pale tinge to his skin made the dark smudges under his eyes stand out. Shrugging, he gingerly made his way downstairs. He'd looked worse than this weeks earlier.

"Good morning, Charlie. How many pancakes would you like?" Alan asked without turning around.

"Thanks, but I'm actually not very hungry," he replied, swallowing convulsively.

Hearing the exhaustion in his son's voice, Alan turned around and got his first good look at Charlie.

"Are you, all right? You don't look very good, Charlie."

"I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Uh... dog. The neighbour's dog wouldn't stop barking."

Alan skeptically eyed him. "Uh huh. I didn't hear any dog."

"Well, maybe it's because our windows face different directions. I've gotta get ready, Dad."

Alan worriedly watched him leave, not buying a word of what had come out of Charlie's mouth. The speech he had given Don came sailing back into his mind. Even though sometimes Charlie didn't act it, he was a responsible adult and could take care of himself. That didn't mean his paternal instincts couldn't kick into gear.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Charles, I was wondering if I could borrow your expertise for a few minutes? If it's not too inconvenient of course. Charles?"

Since Larry had entered the classroom, Charlie had yet to acknowledge his presence. He was hunched over, appearing to be deeply engrossed in the papers he was grading. What disturbed Larry was the fact Charlie's eyes weren't moving. He just stared at a point in the middle of the page.

"Charles," he again prodded as he went over and touched the younger man's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He wasn't prepared for the anger in Charlie's eyes when he abruptly turned and pinned him with his gaze.

"What, Larry! Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?" he all but yelled.

The surprised and hurt look that crossed Larry's features immediately cooled his temper.

"Sorry, Larry. I'm a little stressed right now. What do you need?"

"No, it's all right. I'll come back. I can see that you're otherwise engaged." Larry backed towards the door as he said this, and was out the door before Charlie could call him back.

Larry was deeply disturbed by Charlie's behaviour. Amita had told him Charlie had been snappish all day, even telling a student stupid questions had no place in the classroom. This was the third day Charlie's behaviour had been like this, and he didn't like it. Not at all. If Charlie wasn't going to talk with him, he'd have to go to the next best person.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Larry!" Don couldn't keep the surprise off his face. "What are you doing here? Is everything all right?" The surprise quickly turned to a frown.

"Actually, it isn't. Is there someplace private we can talk?" Larry asked as he nervously intertwined his fingers.

"Uh, sure." Don directed him to the conference room and closed the door. Larry had never come to the FBI office. In fact, Larry had never sought him out before.

"Have you noticed anything unusual about Charles' behaviour as of late?"

"Unusual? He's been kind of quiet, but he seems okay. Mind you, I haven't seen him in three days. I've been on a stakeout. What's going on?" Leaning against a desk, Don crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Well, I'm not sure where to start. I've never seen Charles behave like this."

Don was truly puzzled now. What could possibly have happened in three days?

"Amita and I have both noticed he is extremely short with people, snappish and distracted. Also, there's the fact he looks like he hasn't slept in days, and I don't think he's eating. He's turned down every lunch invitation, and I never see him with any food throughout the day. I'm afraid something might be seriously wrong."

"Have you tried asking him?"

"I have. Today's conversation, or lack thereof, was extremely off-putting. That's why I came to you."

"Thanks, Larry. I'll see what I can do, all right?" He and Charlie would be having a talk when he got home.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

TBC

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