Chapter 2

The brothers sat side-by-side in the SUV and watched the other vehicles leave the cemetery. Don chanced a look at his silent brother. "Do you want to go to the reception at the Henderson house? Larry gave me directions."

"I don't understand," Charlie said.

Don started the engine. "Well, it's just a get-together for family, friends, colleagues. People will drop by all afternoon."

Charlie shook his head. "Not that. I understand that. I…don't want to go, thanks."

Don turned the engine back off and shifted in his seat so he was mostly facing Charlie. "You don't understand what?", he asked gently.

He saw a tear pop out of Charlie's eye and run down his face, unchallenged. "There was no pattern. There should be a pattern."

Don let his eyes wander to the windshield. "What about chaos theory? Random events? Anomolies?"

He could see Charlie shaking his head again. "Those things are much rarer than people realize. I've been watching the news, doing some research – road rage is fairly common. Common enough it even earned a new term in the English language."

Don tried not to sigh. During the last four days, all he could get Charlie to say was "yes" or "no". He had been so reticent with Alan on the phone that their father had been ready to fly back from Sitka again. Don had finally convinced him that Charlie was still a little out of it on pain medication. And apparently, when Don had thought Charlie was sleeping, he was sitting up in bed using his laptop, researching road rage. Now that he was finally talking, Don didn't want to say something that would make him stop; but he didn't have the answer Charlie needed, either.

He decided to change the subject. "Dad should be home by now."

Charlie looked at Don. He had taken his sunglasses off, and he looked – a little scared, maybe? It was hard to judge with all that bruising on his face. "But…if there is no pattern, there's no way to stop it."

Don was a little confused. "Stop road rage?"

Charlie raised his good arm and ran it through his hair, exasperated. "No, no…" He suddenly reached out and grabbed Don's arm. "You can't go back to work."

Don looked at him. "Well, I'm not, Buddy, not until Monday. You might feel like working by then yourself."

Charlie started to tear up again, still shaking his head, still clutching Don's arm. "It's not safe. Please. You can't. You can't. You c-c-can't."

Don took off his own sunglasses so that Charlie could see his eyes. He spoke soothingly. "It'll be okay, Charlie. I'll be all right."

Charlie looked at him for a moment, then let go of his arm and grabbed his own sunglasses from the dashboard, jamming them onto his face so hard Don was sure that he hurt his bruises. Charlie turned his head toward the passenger window, away from Don. His shoulders were as hunched as he could get them, and he shivered once or twice.

Don studied him. "Charlie? What is it? What's wrong?"

Charlie didn't turn back toward him. He just shivered again, and spoke in a tiny, tired voice. "I want to go home."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alan met them in the kitchen, having heard the SUV from upstairs, where he was unpacking. He silently and gently folded Charlie to him, looking at Don over his shoulder. Charlie stood stiffly at first, and Don was happy to finally see his good arm come up to touch Alan – until he saw Charlie use it to push away from him. Standing between his father and brother, Charlie stepped to the side a little to create distance.

"Are you all right, Charlie?", Alan asked with concern.

Charlie nodded. "Yes, thank you. How was Alaska? Is it as beautiful as they say?

Alan looked at Don again, a little nonplussed. He looked back at Charlie. "Um…yes, yes. I took a lot of pictures on that digital camera you gave me. You can help me download the memory cards and see for yourself!"

Charlie nodded. "Uncle Morty? He's well?"

Alan wasn't playing, anymore. He had waited four long days for this conversation. "He's concerned about you. As am I, Little One."

The use of his father's fondest term of endearment for him at least made Charlie blink a few times, but when he spoke again, it was still with an air of detachment. "Why?"

Alan sighed a little. "Son, you've been through a horrible experience. You just came from a colleague's memorial service."

Charlie just looked at him and then crossed to the refrigerator. He started to open it and then stopped. "Forgot. We're out of water."

Alan chuckled nervously. "Well, we do still get some in the pipes that run into the house, Charlie. But I was going to go to the store anyway – I don't know what you and your brother have been eating all week, there's nothing here! Would you like anything else, besides water?"

Charlie suddenly whirled, startling both Alan and Don. "No! You can't!"

Alan took a step closer to him. "Why? What's wrong?"

Charlie began to speak and breathe faster. "C-can't you have it delivered from somewhere? It's not safe, Dad, please, I can't stop it. Don't go. Stay here." He looked at Don, then. "Both of you."

Don walked across the kitchen to Charlie, and stood directly in front of him. He forced himself to look into terrified eyes and tell Charlie what he didn't want to hear. "Buddy, we can't just stay here forever. Any of us. Even if we did…there could be an earthquake, or something."

"Earthquakes have patterns. I could look for them."

"Fine. What if a…what if a twin-engine Cessna experiences engine failure three miles from here, and the pilot can't find a way to pull out of it safely, and he finally crashes into the living room?"

Alan protested mildly. "Donnie…"

Don kept his eyes on Charlie, who was actually thinking about an airplane falling on the house, now. Stranger things – more random things – had happened. His shoulders slumped. He returned Don's gaze desperately. "What can I do?", he whispered.

Don looked at him sadly. "It's not up to you," he answered. "You can't control everything, or predict everything, or even find a reason for everything." Charlie had dropped his head and was no longer looking at Don, but at his feet. Don reached out and put a hand under his chin, tilting his head back up. "You can't hide from everything, either, Charlie…or shrink-wrap the people you love."

Alan had walked closer to them both and snickered a little. "If that worked, don't you think I would have done it to the both of you a long time ago?"

Don smiled, but Charlie shrank back from both of them, shaking his head. "No, no, you don't understand. I have to find the pattern, that's all."

Alan started to speak again. "Charlie…", but Charlie interrupted him.

"Welcome home, Dad. I missed you." Before Alan could answer, Charlie turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Alan and Don listened to his footsteps on the stairs, and stared at each other.