Title: HDTH, Numeral 3: Chinks in the Armor

Author: FraidyCat

Chapter 4: Too Much Information

Once fully awake and standing between his brother and his father while the guide pointed out their campsite and delivered a rapid-fire recitation of "the rules", Charlie couldn't help retreating a step at the apparition. He was responsible for finding this private camp/fishing guide after an extensive Google search, but it had never occurred to him that "Lou Anderson" was a woman.

At least, most evidence pointed that way.

The voice was a little strained, and low, as if there had been too many cigarettes or too much yelling, over the years. The clothes — boots, jeans, a tattered t-shirt and an even more tattered flannel overshirt — were no help. Nor was the hair. Short, functional, no fuss-no muss, asexual style. Still, she stood with her hands on her hips in a decidedly-female pose, and Charlie was pretty sure those were…bumps…under the shirts. Most disconcerting, Alan seemed quite pleased with the turn of events.

Of course, there was always hope that Alan was just still on his "vacation-with-my-sons" high, and was just being as friendly to her as he was to the B&B owners. It was entirely possible that Charlie was not standing here watching his father flirt with the Bride of Sasquatch, the roar of the Rogue serving as mood music. He shuddered a little, involuntarily, when he realized that Millie might not be so bad, after all.

Whether Don noticed the slight shudder or was also imagining the horrific possibilities, Charlie was relieved when his older brother managed to extricate them all from the situation, herd them back into the SUV and head for the campsite the guide had indicated. Mid-July in Southern Oregon was a sportsman's paradise, and the private camp was full. Even though Charlie had found the place in early March, it was already fully reserved, and they had languished on a waiting list for almost two months before someone dropped out and a spot opened up. Alan had just about been ready to check himself into a nice, quiet, retirement home, anxious beyond belief. He had come to believe that the camping, the fishing trip, were integral to the vacation. He did not want to give them up and suggest something else – yet he was loathe that one or both of his sons would drop out before everything was settled.

Actually, he had been worried about that until they were at least an hour out of L.A., yesterday. He was especially concerned about Don. There were times that Alan was convinced Don believed he was the only capable law enforcement agent in any organization in the country. He wondered sometimes, a little frightened, how long Don and Colleen would remain so non-competitive about the whole thing, and why they were so compatible in the first place.

After almost three hours struggling with the tent Charlie had insisted would be so much easier to put up than the one they had used when the boys were small, Alan found out more than he wanted to about that.

When they had set-up camp, the three had walked around the campground, taking in the promises and peace of the nearby river. His sons may have rolled their eyes behind his back, but they were polite when Alan insisted on stopping at each and every camp where someone was "home", and introducing them all. The forced attitude was exhausting to Charlie, who had been left pretty much to his own devices after his first few weeks out of the hospital. He had soon developed the technique of never being in the same place too long, lest someone get close. He had never mentioned it to his brother or father, but he had actually cut his office hours in half this semester. Even when he was on campus and not teaching, he found it difficult to be as…available as he had been in the past. Often, he would quietly close and lock the office door and just sit at his desk or work at his boards until he had to leave and face people, again. Now, in his exhaustion, he found himself thinking idly that it was a good thing they had not brought one of those fancy new "camp ovens". If they had, Alan would have baked everyone cookies as soon as they arrived.

At least one of their new neighbors had provided them with dinner, part of his bounty from the day's catch. Alan had proudly stopped at the cleaning station to gut and fillet the fish, pleased the skill came back to him so easily. Charlie had been fishing before – as a boy, growing up with Alan as his father, and as an adult – so he knew what was coming. Still he was unprepared for the sudden brutality and flying fish parts, and he was more than happy to go with Don to the community firewood supply and pick up a few bundles for the evening. He was still so pale by the time they got there that Don insisted he only carry a few chunks of wood, while he staggered under the weight of three bundles.

It wasn't even beginning to grow dark yet by the time dinner was finished, and it wouldn't for at least three more hours. However, the guide has stomped into their camp earlier to remind them that the group going fishing would leave at 5 in the morning. She brusquely suggested that they get to bed early, since they were no doubt unused to the rugged life cityfolk thought qualified as a "vacation", and by 7 in the evening they could see some of the other campers heading for their tents, already. Even though he had slept most of the way there, Charlie was ready to follow suit, but he could see that Alan and Don wanted to sit by the campfire and watch the river flow by in the distance. He determined silently to try a little harder. As he made that resolution, he heard Don sigh.

"You sure about this phone thing, Dad? I sure would like to talk to Colleen." He spoke almost wistfully. "I know she's only been in L.A. a few weeks, but I'm not sure I can sleep without her." Don was – mostly – just teasing Alan. He would love to talk to Colleen, but he had readily agreed to the "no contact" aspect of the vacation. Their attention needed to be on each other, for a while. Alan looked a little guilty, so Don went in for the kill. "Not to mention the sex. Have I mentioned the incredible sex?"

Charlie choked on the coffee he had been drinking, and Alan thumped on his back and glared at Don. "Donald Alan! Are you familiar with the concept of 'too much information'?"

Don grinned. "What?", he asked innocently. "It's just us guys here, Dad. It's not as if you're unaware of the fact that I have sexual relations with women – you've known that since I was 16, right?"

Charlie's choking gave way to a slight chuckle as Alan protested further. "Don't think I haven't spent many a day trying to forget that, young man! I still run into little Lorrie Peters at the grocery every now and then, and I always stammer like a fool, even though she's married and has half-a-dozen kids herself, now!"

Don laughed and Charlie, giggling by now, raised an eyebrow at him. Lorrie Peters? He remembered Lorrie Peters – he and Don had gone to high school with her. As far as Charlie had known, Don and Lorrie had never dated. Apparently his brother was "cutting to the chase" back then.

Don continued to raz Alan. "All right, I can see that situation must have been uncomfortable to walk in on, but Dad, really. I'm 38 years old, now. What do you think Colleen and I do in our spare time? Play chess?"

Charlie giggled harder. Alan had walked in on Don and Lorrie? He was still watching Don and didn't notice the twinkle in Alan's eye as he listened to Charlie's laughter. Alan tried hard to keep it out of his voice, and appear affronted, although he knew that at this point Don was performing for Charlie as well. "I realize that it's a natural function, Don, but that does not mean we have to share intimate details. There are certain things a father just should not know about his children." Alan faltered a little then, remembering things he wished he did not know about what Don and Charlie had been through just a few months earlier.

Don noticed and pushed valiantly forward. "Dad. I thought we could share anything."

Alan hrumphed. "Son. Bowel movements are also a natural function, but so far you have not felt the need to share those details – and I appreciate that." He let a little worry show in his voice. "Unless there's a problem I should know about? You'd tell me if there was a problem, wouldn't you?"

By this time, Charlie was almost rolling into the fire, tears streaming down his face. His giggling bordered on manic, and Don tried to rein him in a little, even though he was enjoying it as much as Alan. "What are you laughing at, Chuck? I was traumatized for years. You don't know what it's like to have your own father witness your first time."

Charlie gasped and wiped at his face. "Can't be any worse than your mother," he blurted, and the reaction was genuine.

"WHAT?", insisted Don, leaning forward a little, at the same time that Alan turned a shocked face to Charlie.

"Oh, my Lord. Charles Edward! My poor, sweet, Margaret…"

Charlie beamed at them. "The two of you. You think all I ever did at Princeton was study."