Title: The Sound of Silence

Author: FraidyCat

Disclaimer: Please contact your Congressman, and tell him how grateful you are for CBS, Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci.

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Chapter Six: After Math

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Alan had called Amita the evening before, after he had talked to Don. The chokehold of fear that had been constricting her heart since his first call had lessened considerably when she heard that Charlie was talking. She found that she was even more frantic to see him, to reassure herself that he would be all right, and she never considered not going back to L.A. Physics was wonderful. She loved it, and she loved teaching, and she hoped to be thoroughly entrenched in both for quite some time to come.

But Charlie was everything.

She regretted that she had moved so slowly in the relationship. Yes, Charlie was moving slowly as well, but that only meant that she needed to step it up; he just lacked some encouragement. She regretted that she had let her parents' prejudice cloud her judgment. She had made it clear to Charlie that she did not share their view that as a non-Indian, he was not right for her. At least she hoped she had. She hoped that her unwillingness to hurt her parents hadn't shown itself as a willingness to accept their ideas.

She knew now that if he would still have her, she was moving in next week. She loved that Alan was such an important part of his life, and she would be careful to make sure that it stayed that way. She did not want to displace him from the home he had loved for years. It had been difficult for him to watch them make changes. Solar panels in the roof, alternative energy sources, replacing windows and floor coverings…she would try hard to make him understand that he was still welcome in the house; in their lives, and not one of the things they intended to replace. Charlie sometimes made jokes about living with his father, but she knew his heart; she knew that Alan's happiness was important to him.

And Don would be welcome there, always. He could come alone, or with Liz, or with Robin, or with an emu for all she cared. As long as he continued to make his presence felt. Charlie loved spending time with his big brother – to the extent that he had made himself an FBI consultant; at first an uninvited one, now an invaluable one. Amita did not want to take away any of the things Charlie loved. She just wanted to be one of them.

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His demeanor was somewhat reserved when he met her at the baggage carousel, and it frightened her. "Alan," she had begged after a quick hug, "did something happen? Is Charlie worse?"

He smiled in an expression that did not travel as far as his eyes and held onto her hand. Glancing at the carousel, which was not disgorging luggage from the flight yet, he pulled her toward a bench at the edge of the room. "Let's sit down and talk," he suggested, and her knees went weak.

She didn't know how her legs supported her all the way to the bench. She only knew that after the first few steps, her mind was made up. Whatever it was – if he couldn't walk, or he'd lost his words again, or doctors had decided teaching was too much stress – whatever it was, she would hold her chin high and she would take it.

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Not that she had been expecting that.

All the way to the hospital, she tried to wrap her own rather impressive mind around it. As a math-and-sciences nerd in high school, she had run into a study Charles Eppes had published when he was still at Princeton. It had been eye-opening, and she had printed off a copy at the public library and taken it back to school, where she discussed the theroms excitedly with her math teacher.

The woman had been thrilled to find a student so in love with math that she went to the public library when the one at school was closed, and she went home and did some research of her own on the infant Internet. She brought Amita the names of two more papers the young now-Dr. Eppes had published, one in conjunction with a Princeton physics professor named Dr. Larry Fleinhardt. Better yet, she had ordered Dr. Eppes' first book; and best, she had found out that both Drs. Eppes and Fleinhardt were now in California, teaching at CalSci University.

Amita had determined to be accepted there, especially after she began reading some of Dr. Fleinhardt's work also. By the time she was a senior in high school, she couldn't decide whether to major in one of the mathematics fields, or physics. So, once matriculated at CalSci, she pulled a double major. Her mind exploded at the university. Not many students chose CalSci unless they were serious about the sciences, and the entire faculty seemed as gifted as Eppes and Fleinhardt. She took several of their courses, eventually losing her girlhood awe but gaining in understanding and respect. Still, when she started going after her first Master's in applied mathematics, she almost requested a different advisor when she was assigned to Dr. Charles Eppes. She was afraid the picture she had constructed over all those years would get in the way of the work; and she had long ago reached the point where the work was more important than anything else.

Yet the man was brilliant, and as an added bonus seemed very tight with Dr. Fleinhardt; it would be almost like getting two advisors, and would help her decide whether or not to continue in physics as well. So in the end, she accepted the assignment and was never sorry she had.

The attraction between herself and the young professor started as a spark that was never flamed into fire by either of them as long as he was her advisor. They had talked about it once after she got her first doctorate and they started dating, though, and they had both known it was there. Now, the Charles Eppes she read about in high school and the Charles Eppes she had come to love had very little in common. There was so much more to him than math. She had determined awhile into the advisor relationship that it was sort-of like staring into an eclipse. The math was so overwhelming, the genius so blinding, that it pulled all of your focus unless you were very careful.

All of that and more cascaded through her head on the trip to the hospital, and she began to feel the fear as they echoed through the final corridor and approached his room. Charlie was more than math, yes; but the numbers were an integral part of the combination. Who would he become without them?

As she turned into the door, her low-heeled shoes clicking on the linoleum, he looked up from his fetal position on the bed and saw her. His eyes shone bright with unshed tears. Don was in the corner, jammed into a folding chair he had found in the closet, but she didn't even acknowledge him.

Instead, she took four steps across the room and lowered the rail of the hospital bed, then sat on the edge, mindful of the IV stand. She reached out a hand and laid it on the three-day stubble on his cheek, then moved it so it ran through his hair. She pulled her hand back into her lap and smiled. "You could use a shampoo," she declared. "I'll give you one when we get you home in the morning."

He blinked and the brightness in his eyes dimmed a little. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. "You understand that I have regained all of my physical capabilities." He waggled his eyebrows and she blushed, suddenly remembering that Alan and Don were in the room.

"Listen," she changed the subject, "I'm on top of this, all right? I'm going to talk to that neurologist and get a copy of that study, and we'll figure this out. I don't want you to worry about anything."

He snorted and closed his eyes. "I've been trying to figure out what kind of job I can get. At first I thought fast food; they have those registers set up with pictures of the items, so the kids don't have to know numbers at all. But then I remembered that Dad always gets a 10 percent senior citizen discount, and I don't think they have different keys for that. I think I'd actually have to know how to compute 10 percent, so that's out."

"Charlie," Don interrupted. "Knock it off. You got your words back, you just have to wait a little longer for the numbers."

Amita nodded. "I agree," she concurred. "It's much too soon to book you an appointment in the CalSci Career Testing Center."

Alan smiled and motioned to Don. "Son, walk to the cafeteria with me. We can bring some decent lunch up for everyone." He strove for normalcy and teased his youngest. "You're still certain you don't want a strawberry-cheesecake milkshake?"

Charlie grimaced and looked over Amita's shoulder in time to catch Alan's wink. "I'll pass on that," he answered drily.

"Lime gelatin, then," Alan answered, and Charlie made another face.

"It's a good thing you're taking Don with you," he muttered.

His brother smiled as he edged past the bed. "Got it handled," he assured them. "We'll be back soon."

Amita waited until their footsteps had faded in the hall before she leaned over and kissed Charlie chastely. Straightening her spine, she smiled. "I love you," she said.

To her dismay, his face clouded. "I hope so," was certainly not the answer she had been expecting.

She forged ahead. "Charlie, I'm calling a moving company tomorrow. Or, I can probably find some students who need to supplement their incomes a little."

His brow furrowed. "Are you moving? Were you at the conference long enough to get a better offer?"

She smiled, and lifted his IV-free hand to her lap. "Silly. I want to move into the Craftsman. With you." He was silent for so long that she rushed into half-formed plans. "Your father will stay too, of course. There's room for all of us, and we'll be careful to make sure he still feels like it's his home. And, and…."

"No," Charlie said so quietly she almost missed it.

Almost, but not quite. "Wh..what?"

He squeezed her hand in her lap and then drew his away, drawing it up to his chest, almost as if his heart hurt. "No," he repeated. "Not this way. I won't have you moving in because you feel sorry for me."

Amita recoiled as if she had been slapped. "That's not…Charlie, I feel sorry for me. My God, you could have died. You could still be lying here now unable to communicate at all. I'm sorry that I've wasted so much time, because there's no guarantee there will be a tomorrow, for any of us!"

Charlie closed his eyes, and this time a lone tear did escape and roll down his stubbled cheek. "There's no guarantee you will love whoever I turn out to be, either," he responded, the length and the content of the sentence exhausting him. "That's not fair to you." He opened his eyes and attempted a smile, failing miserably. "All bets are off until we…figure out who I am now."

Her feelings had been hurt when he refused to let her move in, but now she was growing terrified. "Charlie, you can't cut me out of this equation. That's not your job to do."

A bitter laugh tore from his throat. "Equation. We can't even break up without bringing math into the conversation."

Amita stood abruptly. "We are not breaking up," she protested. "I will not allow it. If you're not ready for me to move in right now, I can understand that. But I am not leaving. I am not." Charlie had attempted to open his eyes again, but they never got past half-mast, and now he was obviously fighting to keep them that far open. She leaned over again and kissed him on the cheek. "You get some sleep," she said softly. "I'll still be here when you wake up."