Chapter 2

Charlie sat on the bench outside the FBI office. This was the fear he had agreed to face, and it was the last thing he had to do before he could call Amy. Over the last week, he had talked to both Larry and his father more about the shooting. His dreams. His fear. He had talked to them more, he could honestly say that…just not a lot. But he tried to be more honest when they asked questions, more honest with himself when he sat on the couch at 3 in the morning and listened to satellite radio.

Which had only been once this week because of the dream. The other two times, it was because he was upset about his fight with Amita. He still didn't understand exactly what happened. With everyone so busy writing final exams, conducting extended office hours for students and prepping for the end of the semester, it hadn't been difficult for them to avoid each other since the interrupted lunch five days ago.

Larry knew something was up, though. He had actually let it go for two days before he mentioned it. "Is there a problem between you and Amita, Charles?"

They had been in Charlie's office, where the three of them traditionally met each morning before classes, shared a cup of tea, or coffee. Charlie looked at him. "Yes," he admitted, "but I honestly don't know what it is." He had spared Larry the details of the lunch, opting instead to look back down at the papers on his desk.

At least Larry hadn't been unreasonable about Amy. On the contrary, his friend seemed delighted, even suggesting a double date. "Ah! A shipboard romance! Charles, I look forward with great anticipation to meeting the young woman who could so quickly and thoroughly captivate you. Perhaps when the fervor of finals is over, the two of you would join Megan and I for an evening repast?" Charlie was pretty sure that meant dinner.

He shook his head to clear it. This wasn't going to help him deal with going inside that building. He took out his cell phone, flipped it open. Amy had assured him that he didn't have to go alone, and Megan had offered frequently enough…he sighed, put the phone back. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this.

He rose from the bench and walked tentatively toward the building. Since the shooting, security had been posted outside as well as inside, and he showed his ID to the officer, allowed him to run a wand over his body. Then he held the door open for him, and Charlie hesitated. The officer looked at him, silently questioning. Charlie tried to smile, stepped quickly inside, like jumping in the deep end of the pool.

He stopped just inside the door and felt the rush of air conditioning hit him, hoped it would stop the sweat he felt on his forehead. Ahead he could see Central Booking, and where the corridor split off, leading to the elevators in one direction, some smaller offices in the other. When it had happened, digital forensics, awaiting remodel, had been using space in one of the offices. That's where Charlie had been. He took a breath, started forward.

By the time he got to Central Booking, he knew two things. One was that Megan had been right a few weeks ago when she remarked on how different it all looked now. The other was that he should have called her and asked her to come down and get him. He could see now that the several small offices had been made into one large one. Just before he got to the spot where he would have to turn down that hallway, he suddenly veered off, went into the men's room right off the lobby.

He looked at his face in the mirror. Pale, still sweaty…he closed his eyes and saw black. "Men in black", like the movie, but these guys weren't wearing suits, they were wearing masks, turtlenecks, the arms covered in long sleeves blending into assault rifles so that it looked like the rifles were their hands…his eyes popped open and his breathing became ragged. He had never remembered that, before.

He whirled suddenly and tried to push into a stall, but it was locked. He barely got to the next one in time to lose his lunch, his breakfast, and last night's dinner. He was sure he saw parts of all of those in there, flushing after each one. He stayed in a leaning position for a while to make sure he was done, then straightened and slumped into the door, letting it support him.

"Dude. You okay in there?"

Charlie didn't recognize or anticipate the voice, and his heart beat wildly in response. He couldn't make himself answer.

"You want me to get someone?"

Charlie closed his eyes again. Yes. Yes. Get someone.

He opened them, cleared his throat. "I'm…I'm okay," he said, voice shaky. He coughed a little. "Thank you."

"You sure?"

Charlie let his head fall back, banging into the door. "Yes."

"Okay…" The voice sounded uncertain, but eventually he heard water running, then the sound of feet walking, the whoosh of the hydraulic door opening and closing. He waited a few more seconds, opened the stall door cautiously. He appeared to be alone.

He went to a sink and washed his hands, cupped some water into his mouth to rinse with, splashed more over his face. Finally he reached for the towels. When he was done, he looked into the mirror again, squared his shoulders.

This time, he walked straight past Central Booking, to the new office that used to be three smaller ones. It was accounting, now, he could see by the plate on the door. North end. That had been digital forensics. He looked at the filing cabinets, and had no trouble remembering what it felt like to lean up against them, saw the green eyes from his dream again without even closing his own. A woman at a desk near the door looked at him curiously. "We've just remodeled," she said. "Can I help you find something?" He tried to smile, tried to speak, couldn't do either one, so he finally just shook his head and turned and walked the other way, past Central Booking again, this time to the elevators.

He leaned against the wall. He was not going upstairs until his heart rate was somewhere in the vicinity of that shared by most humans. If he was not careful, be would pass out. He didn't know how long he stayed there, lost count of the people who passed him…and Charlie never lost count of anything. At some length, his heart seemed to slow down, although it still beat with great force, as if it wanted out of his chest. He drew in another deep breath, felt it slow more. He straightened, noticed that he was getting sore, for some reason. He turned to face the elevator, and pushed the button.

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Don gathered the files from his desk. Merrick had decided to prioritize the case they'd picked up last night, and reassigned the one they were already working on. He headed across the bullpen to deliver what they had to Riddick and his team.

He was walking toward the elevator when it opened, and his eyes widened when he saw Charlie inside. He hadn't seen him since the day after their return from the cruise, but Charlie hadn't called to tell him he was coming…he would have met him in the lobby, or something. He quickened his pace. He hadn't seen his brother that pale since…since he was still leaning up against those filing cabinets, bleeding all over Colby.

The doors started to close again before Charlie moved to get out, and he ended up jumping out awkwardly, almost bumping into Don. Don was glad for the excuse to put a hand out to steady him. "Charlie! Are you okay?"

Charlie rearranged himself, shakily drew a hand through his hair. "I…" He stopped himself, remembered the new Charlie. "Been better." It was the best he could do.

"Why don't you grab a seat in the employee lounge, you look like you're about to fall over. I've got to deliver these files…or do you need some help?" The lounge was only a few feet away, closer than his desk — that's why he had suggested it, he wasn't sure Charlie would make it to his desk. His brother didn't answer him, just started walking…limping…toward the lounge.

Don quickly delivered the files and joined him there. Charlie was sipping a bottle of water. That meant he had enough wits about him to find some money and use the machine. Don relaxed a little and sat facing him at the table. "You should have told me you were coming. Or called from downstairs."

Charlie carefully placed the bottle on the table. "I almost did," he said. Admitted, "probably should have. That was hard. Even though it looks so different, now."

"You spent some time down there, then?"

Charlie nodded.

"How long?"

Charlie looked at his watch. "It was 4:15 when I came out of the bathroom…" He looked back at Don, seemed surprised. "Only 12 minutes? Seemed like a lot longer."

Don smiled at him. "I'm sure it did." He knew his brother pretty well. "You had to stop at the bathroom, to…"

"Throw up," Charlie confirmed. "Several times."

Don winced. "You're okay now, though?"

Charlie was calming down a little more with each sip of water, each word out of his mouth. "Yes."

"Hey. You've done it, now."

Charlie suddenly smiled. He could call Amy now.

"Do you want to come back, see everybody? Megan's been worried. Colby doesn't believe you went on a cruise. And David wants to ask you some stuff about Cal Sci, his niece is thinking of applying."

Charlie stood, grimacing a little as his body reminded him of what he'd just experienced. "I feel like I've had the flu," he shared. "Achy, tired, never want to see food again…" He led the way to the bullpen, thinking. When he called Amy, he wanted to be able to go right to her. Definitely wanted to feel better than yesterday's garbage. Maybe he'd better wait until tomorrow.