Chapter 5

Don waited until late afternoon of the day he knew Charlie would be back at work. The cases the team had been working on since the weekend were both on track. His team knew he was only a phone call away, if something urgent came up. Surprised at how difficult it was, he convinced himself he could leave a few hours early.

It was almost 4 when he stood at the open door of Charlie's office and knocked. Charlie was seated at his desk, facing the door. He was leaning back in the chair, feet on the desk, lap full of papers and a red pen stuck behind his ear. Another red pen was in one hand, and a third rolled on the desk, as is it had just been tossed there. He looked up from the paper he was reading and saw Don. He smiled, tossed the papers on a corner of the desk and beckoned for Don to enter with the red pen he was still holding.

"Thank God," he said. "Get in here. Remind me not to schedule an exam for two days after Spring Break, again. I swear half of these kids are still waiting for their blood alcohol to reach the legal limit."

Don laughed and headed for the couch in the corner. "How was your trip down the coast?"

Charlie looked a little surprised. "You know about that?"

"Dad told me. I'm…glad you could get away. Even though you're paying for it now."

Charlie looked forlornly at the test papers. "It's not like I didn't warn them. Something tells me they didn't study much over Break." He looked at Don again. "So are you here to rescue me? Distract me with a case?"

Don spoke slowly and deliberately. "You haven't told me about your trip."

Charlie looked momentarily nonplussed. "Oh. Well. It was good. I didn't get far — about four hours out of the city — but I found a really nice little secluded section of the beach that I've never been to before. The lady at the motel gave me directions. It's kind-of a small-town secret, I guess. Trying to cut down on tourist traffic."

"So why did she tell you?"

Charlie shook his head. "I never get why things like that happen. Maybe I looked like I needed it, or something."

Don tried to think of another question. Why was a simple conversation so much harder than the interrogation room? "Uh…so…nice beach."

Charlie regarded him as if he had grown another head. "Right."

Don suddenly remembered something and almost sighed in relief. "Dad said you didn't even take your lap top. You must have needed some serious R &R."

"Just a break, Don, that's all." Charlie was still looking at him oddly. "So?"

Now it was Don's turn to look confused. "What?"

"Do you have a case? Something for me?"

Don looked away toward the door, then down at his hands, then across to the shelves full of books, and finally back at Charlie. "No. Nothing. I just…left early, today. I thought I'd come and hear about your trip."

Charlie started to reach for the pen behind his ear and noticed that he still had one in his hand. He tapped it a few times on the desk, and then stood. He walked across to the office door, closed it, then took a chair near the couch and crossed one leg over the other knee. He looked at Don. "What's going on?"

"I- Nothing." They looked at each other for a few seconds. Don blinked first. "Okay. Do you believe people can change?"

Charlie raised a hand to rub his forehead, dropped it to the arm of the chair, again. "Sounds like something I would need more data to determine."

"Like what?"

This time Charlie looked away. His eyes wandered to the window, then back. "Well…is there a detectable pattern of behavior? Have there been changes in the past?"

"Maybe not. Maybe they're just small changes. You know. Can't be seen with the naked eye kind of things."

Charlie considered. Remembered the sunset. "You know…I'm not sure I ever thanked you."

Don actually jerked against the back of the couch. "What?"

"It's true that I have done a certain amount of work for agencies like the NSA and the Coast Guard, on my own — but I know that I probably wouldn't consult for the FBI on as many cases, without my connection to you. I recognize the importance of that work. I appreciate the opportunity to put into practice the principles I teach, and to make a real difference, sometimes."

Don shook his head. "God, no, Charlie, don't thank me. I should thank you. And apologize…if…for the times I haven't been attentive enough. Your work is important, too. Impressive. Gargantuan, even."

Now they were both embarrassed, and Don was growing frustrated. This wasn't what he had been hoping for, exactly, not another discussion about work, and whose meant more. His eyes wandered the room and he focused on a photo on the desk. Charlie, Larry, Amita,. There was a waterfall in the background. "Where was that picture taken?"

Charlie followed his gaze. "That? It's a couple of years old…it's the year Amita finished her doctorate in Applied Mathematics and decided to go for another in Astrophysics. We took a day trip to hike and picnic at Big Santa Anita Canyon. It was the symbolic handing over of a student, sort-of. Although Larry's not really Astrophysics, despite his great interest…" Charlie trailed off and looked back at Don. "Why?"

Don wasn't sure he could follow through on his resolve. This was not his comfort zone. "Uh…you must be pleased that she didn't accept the Harvard offer."

"What are you doing, Don?"

Don swallowed. "Establishing a pattern."

Charlie stood and moved to his original chair, placing the desk between them — a gesture that wasn't lost on Don. He plucked the pen from behind his ear and added it to the pile on the test papers, then looked at Don again. "She didn't choose between me and Harvard, Don. She chose between Cal Sci and Harvard. Cal Sci agreed to allow her time to continue her work on the Astrophysics doctorate. Between that and her new responsibilities…" He reddened a little. "She's not in a place to pursue romantic entanglements. Nothing's going to happen, there."

Don nodded. "Kim and I. We were living together, even engaged…but even now, I'm not sure how that happened. We were both Agents, and the job took precedence over everything. I hate to admit it, but it's one reason I came back. Not just for Mom — I'm not that selfless. I wish I was. Truth is, I wanted out. I know the job was a big part of that relationship not working. That's why I was so careful about Terry."

Charlie picked up a pen and started tapping the desk again. "Holy shit," he finally said. "You just don't do things halfway, do you?"

Don leaned forward on the couch, arms on his knees, and looked intently at his brother. "Charlie, I haven't been who I want to be. As a brother. As a man. Separate from my job." He sat back again and sighed in frustration. "Or…at least I need to learn to integrate my job a little into an actual life. I would like to do that." He seemed to find new resolve even as he was speaking. "I intend to change things …. Is this … do you like things the way they are, between us?"

Charlie looked at Don for a while and then swiveled his chair a little so that he could look out the window. "All I was going to do this afternoon was grade papers. That's all. But no, I have to leave the door open, and my life becomes a remake of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'." He stood and walked as far away from the couch as he could, looked at some books on the shelf. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned to face Don. "I…it…I would like for things to be different."

Don looked at him. "You're scared," he said wonderingly.

"Shit, yes, I'm scared."

"Of what? Do you think I'm too old to do it or something? I can't make changes?"

"No. I have always believed that you can do anything you want to, Don."

Don could admit that had always seemed true enough. Charlie had always championed him. "Then what?"

"I'm…I'm afraid that you'll stop wanting it. Or that I won't hold up my end."

Don used the time it took to stand himself to look down at his feet and compose his face. He had never been careful enough, with this gift. His brother. He could see that now. He started walking and stopped a few feet in front of Charlie, allowing him space. He spoke softly. "I don't believe either one of those things is going to happen."

Charlie took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms nervously. "So, what do we do now?"

Don smiled. "Try a little harder — to hear each other. To make ourselves heard. Openness. Honesty. All those five-dollar therapy words."

Charlie finally smiled again.