Parents learn a lot from their children about coping with life
110011
He looked at his father sleeping in his brother's bed. Don didn't want to leave for work without saying good morning, but he was also reluctant to wake his dad up. He knew Alan had been awake most of the night. Eventually he decided to just go to work and let his father sleep as much as he could.
Don was tired. He blinked some of the exhaustion away as he walked down the stairs. He had been up half the night worrying. Worrying for Charlie and worrying for his father. The whole situation scared him. He was sure there was an answer somewhere staring him right in the face.
He looked at the family pictures on the walls. Stopping for a second in front of a picture of Charlie and their mother, Don sighed. He had no idea when the picture had been taken. He assumed it was some time after he left L.A. He had already lost so much time. 'Just come back to me, Charlie. Give me another chance.'
Don closed the door behind him quietly and put his sunglasses on.
110100
By the time Charlie's mind came back into focus, he was out of the bath. He was dry and warm and the lacerations on his legs were dressed.
"Welcome back, buddy." John smiled as he steadied Charlie on the tub's edge. "Can I let go?"
Charlie nodded, smiling slightly. He was feeling much better.
"Let me give you a nice shave," John said kindly. "It'll feel good."
The mathematician didn't respond. He did his best to sit still.
When John was done, he took a towel and dried Charlie's face and then ran it through his wet hair. John inspected his handiwork. "There - much better." Sitting on the floor next to Charlie, he asked, "Are you still cold?"
Charlie shook his head, not trusting his voice.
"Good." John took in a deep breath. "This is going to hurt, but I have to put a splint on your arm."
Charlie bit his lip before nodding, stretching his left arm towards John. He closed his eyes when he saw John reach for the splint and clenched his jaw as his captor wrapped the bandages around his arm and painfully set Charlie's arm in place. The young mathematician wanted to scream as he felt the broken pieces of bone move against each other, but instead he bit deeper into his lip, drawing blood.
"How does that feel?" John asked, content with his work.
Charlie opened his eyes and looked at John through unshed tears. Though it hurt like hell, he muttered through clenched teeth "Okay."
"I'll give you something for the pain in a second." John spoke forcefully as Charlie was about the object. "No arguing." The younger man nodded in surrender, making a mental note to approach the issue later. "Let me take a look at your back."
Charlie turned as much as he could without falling.
"It doesn't look too bad," John said after some inspection. "I'd like to cover some of it up to keep it clean."
As he waited for John to finish, Charlie tried to figure out what he was supposed to say. John kept hurting him and then apologizing and taking care of the injuries he himself had caused. Charlie's logical mind couldn't understand this behavior and his efforts to do so were leaving him emotionally exhausted.
"All done." John put his hands on Charlie's shoulders and kissed him on the back of his head. Charlie was surprised by the gesture, but said nothing. "Get dressed." John handed Charlie some clothes and left the bathroom. Charlie noticed his abductor purposefully didn't close the door behind him as he went into the bedroom, changing the stained sheets on Charlie's bed. The young mathematician was relieved to see that John seemed to be busy with his task and not watching him. He dressed as fast as he could, the vulnerability of his situation becoming more overwhelming by the second.
110101
Megan watched Don as he walked into the bullpen. He looked terrible. She knew Merrick had ordered Don to see a counselor, but was pretty sure he hadn't done it. She listened to her friend's footsteps. It was Saturday and the building was empty enough for her to be able to hear Don dragging his feet.
She had met families of abduction victims in the past and knew what to expect, but seeing her friends going through this nightmare was harder than Megan thought it would be. In a weird way, the whole team felt a bit like Charlie's older sibling. Partly because Don's overprotective behavior was rubbing off on them and partly because Charlie had a naive personality they all wanted to protect. The thought of that gentle mind being tortured and his thoughts warped into whatever John wanted disturbed her. Maybe it was the profiler part in her, but she knew and feared the affects of psychological manipulation. The very idea of brainwash terrified her. Colby was thinking about it too. Megan could see in his eyes that whatever he had seen during his military service had caused him to fear these affects more than any of them. Don's mind hadn't reached the point where he feared anything beyond the physical effects and Megan wasn't looking forward for the moment when it did catch up.
That would really be a bad day. It would be the day Don would realize that whenever they finally found his brother, he would no longer be Charlie. It would also be the day Don would no longer be Don. She could already see her friend fading away.
"Good morning," she said in the most cheerful voice she could muster.
"Morning," Don replied quietly.
110110
Charlie and John were eating breakfast in the kitchen. They had made the journey up the stairs slowly, and Charlie had been completely worn out by the time he got to his seat. Despite the difficulty, he was glad to have the chance to climb the stairs himself, limiting the contact between his jailor and his aching body.
He ate reluctantly. Charlie had no appetite and barely had enough energy to chew his food, but he knew he had to get some nutrition into his body or he'd just keep getting weaker. He stared at John sitting in front of him, trying to judge his state of mind. He was so deep in thought he hadn't realized John was speaking to him.
"What?"
"I asked if you're done," repeated his captor.
"Yeah."
"Good." John produced a syringe seemingly out of nowhere. "I didn't want to give this to you on an empty stomach."
Charlie stared at the syringe for a long moment before asking, "What's that?"
"It'll help with the pain." John sat next to Charlie and pulled up his sleeve.
"It's just a broken arm, I don't need anything." Charlie breaths came at a faster pace as he stared at the unknown drug he didn't want in his system.
"I'm not going to let you hurt like this if I can stop it." John wiped Charlie's arm with an alcohol wipe. "You'll feel a little sting - that's all."
Charlie watched as the liquid drained into his arm and only looked away when John removed the needle from his body. He stared at the wall, waiting for the drug to kick in.
"It should help you sleep better, too." John stood, towering over Charlie.
"Sleep?" Charlie's words slurred as he realized he was given more than just a pain killer. "What did…?" Charlie's tongue stopped working properly and he just sat staring again. He saw the walls moving around him more than felt John picking him up and putting him on the couch, propping him on his side.
"Sweet dreams," Charlie heard as his eyes closed.
110111
Sarah Wilcox was a homemaker. She had three kids and she enjoyed her every day life in San Francisco. When her new neighbors had moved in, she decided to stop by and meet them. Now, Sarah was knocking on their door softly. She knew someone would be home since there was a car in the driveway.
"Hello," a man opened the door with a bright smile.
"Hello, my name is Sarah Wilcox, I live across the street." Sarah pointed to her home. "I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."
"Thank you, Mrs. Wilcox. Please, call me John." John opened the door fully and leaned on the doorframe.
"Only if you call me Sarah." She smiled at John. He was an impressive looking man.
"It's a deal." He bowed his head slightly and she laughed.
"I saw your friend when you moved in. Is he here?" she asked curiously.
"Charlie's my brother." John sighed heavily, shifting his weight. "He had an accident and he's still dealing with the repercussions. I hope you can understand, but he's not really himself and he doesn't spend time with people. Won't even leave the house."
"Yes, of course." Sarah put a comforting hand on John's arm, letting it linger for a moment. "Will he be okay?"
"They don't know." John glanced inside the house nervously and then quickly returned his look to his guest. "I should really check on him," he said apologetically. "it was a pleasure to meet you."
"You too."
Sarah left to her own home. She had seen John's brother in the wheelchair and hoped that the sweet looking man would be okay.
111000
Charlie was sitting in his office, working on his computer, when his brother walked in.
"Hi, Charlie." Don was smiling. "How are you?"
"I miss you, Donnie." Charlie bit his lip and glanced at his brother for a second. "I don't understand what he wants from me," he whispered.
Don walked towards his little brother, sitting right in front of him. "I'll find you, Charlie." Don emphasized every word. "Just hold on."
"How?" Charlie's voice was small and scared.
"I'll help you." The FBI agent took his brother's hand. "I'm right here with you."
Charlie smiled with relief and squeezed Don's hand in return. "Don't leave."
"I won't." Don brought his other hand up to cover Charlie's. "I'm not going anywhere."
111001
Charlie woke up on the basement floor, still disoriented from the drugs. He had no idea how long it had been, but judging by his hunger, it had been a good part of the day.
He lay still, letting his mind catch up to reality from the drug induced daze. The first thought that came to him was thirst. He wanted water. And then pain. There was a lot of pain. He couldn't figure out where the pain was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere. Charlie tried to blink the haze away, but it didn't work. He brought his hands under him and tried to get up, only the find himself flat on the floor again as his arm buckled. Trying again, he leaned on his other arm and managed to get himself upright.
He limped clumsily towards the bathroom - one of his legs wasn't working very well. He wanted to scream for someone to tell him what was going on, to stop the pain and the fog that was enveloping him, but his throat was too dry to speak. And he doubted anyone would answer.
He was breathing raggedly and the throbbing seemed to match the pace air was entering his body. Reaching the bathroom, he leaned heavily on the sink and turned on the faucet, first drinking and then washing his face.
Charlie stopped the flow of water and straightened his back, looking at the mirror. His mind cleared as he stared at the unfortunate reflection. His face was badly bruised, his lip was split, his cheekbones and eyes swollen. Charlie lifted his shirt with apprehension, knowing that the rhythmic throbbing meant something else was wrong. His ribs were purple and green, patterned with different marks from fists and boots. He prayed nothing was broken.
"What the hell happened?" Charlie whispered, panic rising inside of him. "Did I dream about Don? I don't remember." He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.
His lip had bled, and as he washed the blood off his face he realized that the fact that it was no longer bleeding was not a good sign. It meant that he had been unconscious for a while.
The mathematician looked at the mirror again and noticed for the first time that the collar was on his neck again and that there seemed to be an ugly bruise forming underneath it. He was becoming more and more aware of the pain and where it was coming from. Overwhelmed by it, he allowed his body to sink to the floor.
He sat there, staring at the wall in front of him, trying to calm down from the shock his recent discoveries had invoked. There were no experiences in his life to prepare him to the terrible feeling of waking up and finding something bad had happened to him, but having no idea what that was. The idea of being touched, handled, beaten and carried by John without his knowledge made him feel sick.
He didn't know if it was caused by that realization or the result of the blows he'd received, but Charlie found himself bent over the toilet, heaving.
111010
"Agent Reeves." A young woman approached the agent quietly.
"Yes?" Megan looked up from her computer. It was the same woman who gave her the last note John had sent, but while there was urgency in her voice that time, this time she approached with caution.
"We got another delivery," she almost whispered. "I thought I should show you before I told Agent Eppes."
"Another note?" The woman obviously saw something she didn't want to face Don with.
"A picture." She swallowed hard. "It looks… bad." She handed Megan the picture shakily. "I wasn't sure if I should…"
"You did the right thing coming to me first." Megan took it almost casually. "Thank you."
Megan waited until she had walked away before she looked at the photograph that had left the woman so shaken.
The experienced agent gasped when she saw the image in the picture. It was Charlie, though it was a little hard to recognize him. His eyes were closed in what Megan hoped was blissful, painless sleep. It looked like John was keeping his promise to torture her young friend.
The next step would be to show it to Don. If there was one thing she didn't want to do it was to show this to Charlie's brother.
"Megan." She heard a voice behind her and turned to face Alan Eppes. She was unprepared to see him and didn't get the photo out of the way fast enough. She quickly changed her mind - if there was one thing she didn't want to do it was to show the picture to Alan. Unfortunately, he had already seen it in her hands.
"Hello, Alan. How are you?" she said, he voice unnaturally cheerful.
"Just dropping by to check on my son. How are you?" Alan eyed her. She suspected she'd gone quite pale when he surprised her.
"I'm good." She desperately looked around for Don who was annoyingly absent from her line of sight.
Alan motioned to the object she was clutching in her hands. "What's that?"
"Nothing." Megan tried to hide it as fast as she could, but Alan was way ahead of her and grabbed her hand gently.
"What's that?" he asked again, looking Megan in the eye.
"Alan," she said warningly, shaking her head.
"Let me see it." He paused, searching her face. "Please, I need to know."
"You don't need to know this." Something in her voice must have convinced him. He let go of her arm.
"What is it?" he asked, standing back.
"A picture."
"He's hurting my boy." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah." Megan confirmed.
"Hi, Dad." Megan was relieved to have Don interrupt the conversation, though she knew she wasn't off the hook yet.
"Donnie, hi." Alan visibly shook himself from his previous dark thoughts. "You left early this morning. I didn't see you."
"Yeah. Sorry. I couldn't sleep anymore."
"You say that like you slept at all," Megan remarked under her breath. She was worried about her friend and she knew his father shared her concern.
"Don't you start."
Megan could see the moment the picture caught Don's attention. He motioned with his head towards it.
"Another message from John," Megan answered his unvoiced question and then swallowed hard. "A photo."
Don took a step away from his father as he reached for it. Megan handed it over reluctantly.
111011
Alan watched as his oldest son sank into a chair, a look of pure anguish on his face. "Oh, God," he heard Don mumble. "What has he done to you?" For a second, Alan was thankful Megan hadn't shown him the picture. He wasn't sure how he would've handled it.
Alan lowered himself next to his son, noticing that Megan had made sure they would have privacy. He was surprised to see tears streaming down the agent's face.
"Donnie," Alan said firmly, getting Don to look at him.
"I just…" Don's voice croaked, lost for words.
"I know," Alan whispered, momentarily lost in his own sorrow.
"What do I do?" Don looked at his hands, which were covering his brother's photo.
"Your best. One day at a time."
"What if it's not enough?"
"It will be," Alan said with a confidence he didn't have. "It'll have to be."
111100