Everyone Has A Story Chapter 16: Your Plan Was to Kill Me, a numb3rs fanfic

Charlie knew something was wrong. Don wasn't telling him anything. His brother wasn't the most open person in the world, but usually he would tell him something. His silence spoke only that whatever happened was bad, at Charlie wasn't sure if he was prepared to find out about it.

"Come on, Don. Talk to me. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. You can't do it alone."

Don truly wished he could tell his brother. But considering it was about him, he knew he couldn't. There was no way he could tell his brother that he'd been thinking of Charlie

when he got shot. Hell, he was still thinking about Charlie. He had never felt so inadequate in all his life. What had he done wrong? Where had all his training and experience gone? Don couldn't tell Charlie about what happened. Surely Charlie would blame himself for it if he did. Don couldn't have that. He wouldn't allow it. So even if it meant Charlie would get mad at him, Don couldn't tell him the truth.

"Have you not been listening to me these past few weeks? I've only opened up to you in the most important ways, Don. You know I worry about you, but that's okay. It's expected of a family. We worry, we fight, we're there for each other. That's how families function. We get through things, no matter how bad it is. The only reason you'd have a reason to get through this alone is if you weren't a part of a family. Don, Dad and I are here... Just, talk to us. Please."

Charlie tried to beg his brother with his eyes. There had to be something he could do. He wasn't good at sitting back and watching someone fight alone when he knew he could help. Something about the way that Don looked let him know that even Don knew that he could help. So why wouldn't he let him?

"Please, Don. Say something!" Charlie screamed.

Don just stared away from his brother. He couldn't make eye contact. He couldn't say a word for fear that he would let something slip. He couldn't have that. Never.

"Fine!" Charlie said and left his wounded brother alone in the living room. It seemed obvious that Don didn't want his help. Where had their progress gone? Charlie had set his past on the table. He let his brother in, showing him how he had dealt with his brother's injuries. Would that affect today, now that Don was hurt once more? Was it because Charlie had said something that Don wouldn't talk to him?

Charlie had no idea why Don had to be this way. He just wanted to help. It couldn't be that bad, and if it was, they'd get through it. That's the way their family worked. Don didn't seem to notice that anymore.

Charlie went into his room and laid down on the bed. He suddenly felt exhausted. He was frustrated from trying to get Don to open up, tired from being out so long, and suddenly, he felt the fear come back. He had seen Jake today. He could have easily been killed. But he wasn't. So what more could happen? Charlie didn't know what it would be like.

As Charlie closed his eyes to try to find some rest, he felt like he was watching a 3-D movie. Jake seemed to jump at him from behind his closed lids and the bat was swinging at him once more. This couldn't be happening. Eyes still closed, Charlie gripped the sheets around him, the ones he lay on top of instead of underneath. The glass scattered around his head and he couldn't bring himself to shield his body. There was a sudden bang and the windows were all gone. He felt himself go lower and wondered when Jake would pounce, having the upper hand.

Then something unexpected happened. A hand reached out, touched him. Charlie jerked, finally bringing himself to shield his body from the attacks. He couldn't let Jake touch him. He'd be killed for sure if he did. Charlie's stomach clenched when the hand came back at him, grabbing his shoulder. Charlie struggled, fought, hit at it, as the sweat from fear began to pour down his face. He was trapped, cornered. His car was no safe haven. Don would have protected him. The bat fell onto his shoulder where the hand had touched and Charlie cried out.

"Charlie!"

Oh, God, he said his name. Charlie hated it when they said his name. It made it feel dirty, wrong. He prayed they'd never call him "buddy" or Don's nickname for him would be forever ruined. It would never hold the same meaning. Was Jake going to throw him? The hand returned, encircling his upper arm. There were bruises there, so he pushed it off.

"Charlie!" Don's scream managed to break through his brother's nightmare and Charlie jumped up. He gave a small cry and held a hand over his bruised ribs at the pain he caused when he jumped up.

Don had watched his brother sweat and fight for too long. Charlie wasn't responding when he touched him. He wasn't waking up, only fighting him away. Don hated making him upset, but he had to touch him to try to get him to wake up.

He was relieved when Charlie finally woke up.

"Buddy, are you okay?"

Charlie still wasn't aware of his surroundings. Don had been talking to him? He hadn't realized he managed to fall asleep. It was dark outside and there was only the faint light from the desk lamp in his room. He slowly blinked and took in his new surroundings and found they were much better than where he had been.

"Buddy?"

"How'd you get up here?" Charlie asked, realizing that Don couldn't have managed the stairs by himself.

"Dad helped me. I heard you having a nightmare or something, so I convinced him to let me come in here alone for a minute. You're supposed to come get him when I'm ready to go to my bed."

"Okay."

"You avoided my question. Are you okay?"

Charlie swallowed hard and thought for a minute. Was he okay? He doubted it.

"Yeah, I guess so. Look, Don, about earlier, I know you may not want help, but-"

"Let's not talk about that yet. I want to talk about you first."

Charlie blinked at his brother. What about him?

"What happened today?" Don asked as he settled himself comfortably in Charlie's bed.

It was easy to picture the images, since they'd just been shown in his dreams. "I, uh, I was stopping at the store to get a notebook. When I went inside, I got the notebook, but Jake came into the aisle I was in. I dropped the notebook and just ran. I got in my car, but it wouldn't start. I guess Jake messed with it or something. Anyway, he came out. I locked the doors because there was no where for me to go. I hunkered down in the back seat... and just waited."

Even Don shivered at the thought. He could remember his brother having trouble with hide-and-seek. Charlie had explained to him that he loved the game when he got to seek, but when he had to hide, it scared him not knowing when someone would find you. He hated being alone, waiting someplace dark, not knowing when to expect someone to jump out and say, "I found you."

"He bashed in the windows until I wasn't protected any longer. Then he hit me with the bat he used to shatter the glass. When he finally left, I called you."

Don knew there had to be more to the story than the simplistic version Charlie was telling him. What had Charlie been feeling? How did it feel to have Jake chasing him?

"I'm so sorry, Buddy."

Charlie nodded solemnly. "It's okay, Don."

"No, it's not." Don shook his head, clenching his teeth. "It's not okay because you keep getting hurt. When does it end, Charlie? When you're dead? 'Cause that's the ending I'm seeing. Jake's beating us ten to nothing. We can't catch a break. We haven't even scored against this guy. Do you realize that? You have to get out of here, Charlie. I don't know where you can go, but you have to be safe some place else. I can't let you keep getting hurt. I'll find someone who can protect you-"

"What do you mean 'who can protect me?' Don, you haven't done anything wrong in protecting me-"

"Open your eyes!" Don screamed in Charlie's ear. "You got hit with a baseball bat today, Charlie! I wasn't there. Your house has been vandalized. I wasn't there. Carl tried to kill you and kidnapped you. I wasn't there to save you. So what? What good have I done in protecting you? Tell me, Charlie, because I sure as hell don't know."

Charlie paused. He could never blame his brother for not protecting him. No matter how many times Don hadn't been there when the danger was, Don had made up for it by being there afterward. He felt safe with his brother. That never changed.

"You wouldn't understand."

"You know why? Because I'm not doing a damn thing to protect you."

"Don, listen to me. You're always there for me when I need you. I don't expect you to know every time I get hurt. I'll deal with that at the time. But you help me when I can't help myself. After it happens, I'm scared and you're there to make me feel safe again. That's what I really need. Don, you can't tell yourself you're not doing a good job of protecting me. I'm still alive, right?"

Don chuckled sarcastically as he turned away from his brother. "Yeah and I've been such a help to it. If I had been paying attention to you in the first place, Carl wouldn't have ever come near you. I never should have brought you that day. Too bad I had to think of that when I was out on the field today."

A sudden hush fell across the room. Don forced himself to turn his head to look at Charlie. He was staring at him, wondering what his brother had meant.

"You were thinking about me today? When you were out in the field?"

"No, Buddy, that... that was just a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean that."

Charlie's heart stopped beating as he came to a realization about Don's injuries. "You were thinking about me, weren't you, when you got shot?"

Don's eyes told the truth. His mouth told the lie. "No, Buddy. That was... that was before."

Charlie nodded in understanding. He stood from the bed and Don tried to reach out to stop him. He wasn't able to.

Charlie left his brother in his bed and went to get Alan.

When his father turned to look at him, he took in his son's appearance with a worried gaze.

"What happened?" Alan asked Charlie.

"Nothing, Dad. Don is ready to go to his bed."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want to help?"

"No, there... there's something I have to do out in the garage. 'Night, Dad."

"Good night, Charlie."

Charlie mechanically made his way to the garage... his safe haven.

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Alan slowly walked into Charlie's room to get Don. "What was that all about?"

Knowing he couldn't tell his father, Don replied, "Nothing. I think he's just tired."

Alan eyed his son a moment before coming over to help him up. When it came to his boys, it was never nothing. He knew that well enough. He hoped it was nothing serious. After his father settled him in bed, Don couldn't help but think about what he'd done earlier that day. He had given up. How could he have done that? If he had really taken the time to think about his actions, he never would have made that move and he never would have gotten shot. It was so out of character for him, but he was to the point where he felt he was completely useless. And if he was useless, what was the point in him living?

He truly wished he had never said anything to Charlie. His brother had done a lot for him and had opened up to him more than he ever had before. He should have respected that and responded in some other way. But he wasn't even sure what he could tell Charlie. He wouldn't have known what to say in response to his brother's comments. He couldn't have told him that he had gotten shot because he had given up. He couldn't tell Charlie that since he was worried about him he had stopped thinking clearly and that's why he allowed himself to get shot. That wouldn't be right. His brother didn't need to know that. It was personal. He would deal with it.

As Don rolled over on the bed, aching all over, he hoped his brother could disregard the comment that he had been thinking about him... though he didn't honestly expect that to happen.

Charlie moved slowly in the garage. His mind wasn't processing information at its normal speed. He walked to one of the chalkboards he had covered up. Most of the information on it had been stored in a notebook he had already gotten out. He figured what was on the board would help, too. Little did his family know, Charlie had worked on bullet trajectories, velocity of bullets and other information about bullets the first time Don got shot. He had worked on P vs NP before, but working directly on bullets, the things that could kill Don, made him feel more in control. He knew what to suspect when he worked on that. Sometimes that scared him, but he wanted to be prepared for the worst.

This time, Charlie worked on Don's situation and the bullet trajectories of him getting shot twice. Something was missing, no matter how he worked it. He worked with the formula KEWV2/2g, which determines the amount of tissue damage from a gun shot wound by the amount of kinetic energy lost by the projectile in the body. Whatever way he worked it, something wasn't accounted for. Meaning it was probably him.

Knowing he would probably regret it, Charlie put in distraction as a factor, and it fit Don's situation.

"Oh, God," Charlie said as he backed away from the board. It was his fault. Don got shot because of him. Don never would have gotten shot. He's not that careless. But he had Charlie on the mind. He wasn't thinking about his job. He was worried about him. It was all his fault.

As if in a desperate plea for understanding, Charlie used his finger to erase certain variables on the board until his message was scattered across the board. It seemed completely obvious to him, since those letters didn't fit with the math he was working on. But maybe they could see it still. Maybe they'd understand why he had to leave.

Charlie only took his book bag that he brought with him to school and filled it with a notebook, a water bottle, and the notebook filled with his work on bullets. He didn't leave any message, other than the one on the board. Knowing his family was already in bed by now, he was able to quietly slip out the garage door. He walked, not sure where he was going. He just knew he had to get away. He couldn't risk putting his family in danger anymore. If he was taken out of the equation, Don would never have been shot. His brother could have died because of him. Charlie couldn't live with himself if that ever happened. So all he had to do was remove himself from his family's life. Then they wouldn't get hurt.

Alan was up early the next morning fixing french toast for his sons. He kept his ears open, in case Don called for him. He knew his son would need help moving around, so he wanted to be ready for him. Charlie's door was closed, so he assumed he was still asleep. He'd have classes soon, so if he wasn't up, Alan would go get his sons.

Don was up before Charlie, so Alan went upstairs and peaked in Charlie's room before getting Don. He was surprised to find Charlie's bed empty.

"Charlie?" Alan called. He stepped in the room and looked in Charlie's bathroom. The door was open and no one was inside.

"Dad!" Don's voice carried to Charlie's room.

Alan decided to go to Don. He'd worry about Charlie later.

"Hey, Donny," Alan said as he walked in his oldest son's room. Don's hair was ruffled from sleep, but he looked better today than he had yesterday. Alan always thought his sons looked better when he came close to losing one of them. He shook his head. He couldn't think about that. Don needed up.

Alan led his son to the kitchen table. Don moved easier on his own, but his ribs ached with the movement. He had to move slowly or he'd have to breathe harder, putting more pressure on his bruised ribs.

"Where's Charlie?" Don asked once he was sitting in a chair at the table.

"I'm not sure. He wasn't in his room this morning. Maybe he left for work early."

"Maybe." Don's heart ached for his brother. He wished he hadn't said anything to him. That had been his plan, but it didn't work out the way he wanted to. He hoped that wasn't the reason for Charlie's absence.

"I'll go check the garage," Alan said after he served Don his french toast.

He walked out into the garage and found several boards full of Charlie's writing. Having just been in there last night, Alan realized his son had to have been up all night if he had filled that many. The boards had been blank the night before.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Alan asked the empty garage before heading back to the kitchen.

Don looked up when his father walked back in. He came in alone, disheartening Don. He was hoping to see his little brother, so he could talk to him.

"No luck?"

Alan shook his head. "I'll try his cell."

He grabbed the phone and dialed Charlie's cell phone. Don jumped when he heard it ring behind him. Alan looked to the desk and saw the cell phone, and he hung up.

"That's weird that he didn't take his cell phone."

Don nodded in agreement. If he wasn't even giving his family a way to contact him, he must have been more affected that Don that. He hoped his brother would come home after work, if that's where he really was.

Charlie had been walking for eight hours. It was four o'clock in the morning and he honestly didn't care where he was. He didn't pay any attention to signs, just let his feet take him where ever they wanted to. He would stop only to take a drink of water, then keep going. On a normal day, his injuries would prove painful. Today, though, he couldn't feel the pain as his thoughts took over every thought and every movement. There was no time to think about any injury, except for the injuries he caused his older brother to have.

He never would have guessed he would be a dangerous factor in Don's life. Sure, his brother had taken on bullies for him and had stood up for him in more ways than one. But this was different. This wasn't some kid on the playground who had been mean to him. This wasn't even for his own good. Charlie had called his brother before Don went into a dangerous situation, and because of it, Don had been thinking about him. He had been thinking about him so he wasn't focused on his job. You had to pay attention at all times, or you could get shot. Don knew that. But he had been worried about Charlie, and his mind moved elsewhere. Charlie had nearly cost him his life. Why couldn't he have just called the police? He should have done that. He never should have put that on Don. It hadn't been that bad of an injury. It wasn't like he was going to die. Jake hadn't even been around anymore. He was safe. He could have waited. Alan could have told him. Something. He just shouldn't have caused his brother to worry about him even more than he already did.

Charlie was near the end of his rope as he walked on. His strength was waning, whether he felt it or not. Janet could see it. Jake had pointed him out to her, telling her that he wanted her to talk to him. She could hardly believe she was helping him, but Justin's life was at stake. She should have known keeping in contact with Jake had been the wrong decision. But he was her son's best friend. She couldn't just forget that. Jake and Carl had spent so much time together. Maybe Jake could help keep a part of her son with her.

She pulled up along Charlie as he walked. She had no idea what had happened to him. She knew about Jake, but there had been something else. Something had changed him. He looked so resigned. Janet truly felt sorry for him. Maybe he would forgive her, if he knew what else she was doing.

"Charlie!" she called when she rolled down the passenger window. He didn't hear her until the third time she called his name. He turned, and the sadness in his eyes shocked her.

"Do you need a ride?"

Charlie looked to the right and to the left. Without a word, he got in the car.

"You look awful. Let me take you to my house. I'll get you back on your feet in no time. And, if it's okay with you, I'll finish telling you Carl's story."

Charlie nodded. Was he out of his mind? Could he honestly trust this woman to take care of him? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't go home. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"I'll get it," Alan said, though he wasn't sure why. Don wasn't supposed to be up on his own, and they were the only ones home. So he wasn't sure why he said he'd get the door.

"Larry! How good to see you."

Larry gave a small smile as he stepped into the Eppes home. "I was wondering where Charles was. He didn't come to school today, and I was worried about him because he didn't let anyone know he wasn't coming in."

"What?" Alan's face paled. Larry feared the worst.

"You don't know where he is either." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Larry could see it was true.

"Don!" Alan said as he walked to the living room where Don was sitting on the couch watching TV. Don wanted to stand when he saw his father's white face.

"What is it, Dad?" he asked.

"Charlie didn't go to work today. He's not here and he's not at work. Where else could he be?"

Larry gently pushed Alan's shoulders so that he would sit down. Once pressed, Alan sank into the chair and felt his hands shaking. Where was his son? Why had he not thought to call the school to check on him? Where could he have gone?

Don's stomach lurched. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then looked at Larry.

"Would you get me the phone, please?"

Larry nodded and moved to get the phone. He handed it to Don and he dialed the FBI offices.

"Reeves," Megan answered.

"Megan, have you seen Charlie today?"

"Don? No, I haven't seen him. Why?"

"Damn it."

"Don, what's going on?" Megan asked forcefully.

"Charlie is missing."

"I'm on it."

"Don't bother trying to find him with his cell phone. He doesn't have it."

"How about his laptop?"

"No, it's in his room."

"We'll find him, Don. I'll get David and Colby on it, too."

"Thanks."

Don hung up and found his father was staring at him. "Donny, what if... What if it's-"

"No, Dad! I refuse to think that. Okay? We're going to find him and he'll be fine, okay?"

Alan flinched at Don's harshness, but nodded in agreement. He had to believe that.

"I'll leave you two alone for a minute," Larry said as he stepped out.

Don wanted to lash out at something. He wanted to get up and run. He wanted to chase after his brother, but he didn't know where he'd go. How could he have not known Charlie was missing? Why did he assume he was at work? With Jake after him, Don should have known to check on his brother repeatedly. That's how accidents happened. That's what got Charlie hurt... and that was what would get him killed.

No. Don couldn't think that. Charlie would be okay. He just got mad and left for a while. Maybe he just needed to clear his head or something. He'd be back later. He always came back.

"Donny, what do we do?" Alan asked.

"We look for him."

"Don, you know you're not supposed to be up," Alan said as Don tried to get up.

"I have to look."

Alan walked over and pushed his son back down gently. He sat in front of Don, locking eyes with him.

"No. You have to stay here. If Charlie is going to come home, someone has to be here. You're not well enough to come out. You're not supposed to be moving around so much. Let me handle this, please. I don't want you to get hurt, too."

Don looked away. He knew this was what he was supposed to do, but he wasn't good at sitting around while everyone else did the work. He hoped he'd be able to survive this time.

"Alan!" Larry called as he came walking quickly into the room. He looked between Alan and Don and then focused only on Alan.

"What is it?"

"I need you to see this."

Alan followed Larry out into the garage. "What?"

Larry pointed to certain spots on the chalkboards. "I-I recognized this work. Charlie asked for my help on the physics of this problem once before. It has to do with bullets."

"Bullets?"

"Precisely. I'm familiar enough with this work to know that these points don't fit." Larry took a piece of chalk and circled the areas that weren't supposed to be there.

"What does that mean?"

Larry moved to a blank board and wrote out what the letters that didn't belong spelled.

"I am sorry."

Alan felt tears fill his eyes as he stepped to the chalkboard. "Oh, Charlie. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Finally! I'm sorry it's taken so long. It seems like there's been one writing assignment after the other. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Sorry there were so many scene changes. I hope that wasn't annoying or anything.

Thank you, FraidyCat, for your help with this chapter! She had the idea that Charlie should work with bullets and for him to run away. Thank you!