Title: HDTH, Numeral 3: Chinks in the Armor
Author: FraidyCatChapter 8: The Bickersons
With an afternoon to kill and no access to communication devices or computers, it wasn't long before the boys targeted each other. Alan puttered around the campsite, putting to rights the mess he had created earlier, and reflected. On the one hand, listening to the two bicker and tease each other brought back memories so strong it nearly left him breathless several times. On the other hand, there was a reason he had been happy that they had grown out of that stage. This was fairly annoying.
"I DID NOT break any of the rules, Don! My hiking boots do not have Internet access. They're a clothing item. There were no restrictions on clothing."
Charlie was sitting on the ground near the fire, still cold even though the day was approaching 90 degrees. Don lounged in his shirt sleeves at the picnic table. He drummed his fingers on top. "That's so like you. You do that all the time, Chuck."
Charlie looked up at the hated nickname. "What?"
"Pretend you don't understand something, when we all know you think circles around the rest of us. You knew what the spirit of the rules entailed, and you obviously intended to sneak some hiking in anyway." He suppressed a grin, which Alan noticed, but Charlie was looking at the fire again. Pushing the envelope – as he always did – Don went a step too far. "I wouldn't be surprised if you fell in the river on purpose, just so you could go your own way for awhile."
Alan, who was in the tent rearranging sleeping bags by this time, froze. He was Staying. Right. Here. Where it was safe.
Charlie looked at Don with the full-out kicked puppy eyes, and Don felt himself weakening. "I thought…you said…" His voice dropped to a near-whisper and his shoulders hunched. "I don't have to go hiking. You're right, it's supposed to be a family vacation. I'll go out with you guys tomorrow and…watch from the bank, or something." He ended his speech with a pathetic sneeze, and Don shook his head.
"Damn, Charlie. You are good." Charlie just looked at him quizzically, so Don got up and walked toward the fire. When he was standing over his brother, he spoke gently, risking a set-up. It wouldn't be the first time Charlie had broken down his reserves with the wounded puppy – and then gone in for the kill. "Look, you know I'm kidding, right? I think it's great that you'll get it some hiking. As long as you don't take off by yourself and get lost in all these mountains. You didn't pack your compass, or GPS, did you?"
Charlie shook his head silently, apparently mesmerized by the flames. Don gave up and squatted next to him. "Charlie, really. I was just kidding."
Charlie tore his eyes from the fire and met Don's. Don was nearly blown over backwards at the look in them. It wasn't like when they had first been recuperating from the ordeal with Martinez' family. It wasn't abject fear, and terror. But Don could see pain still lurked there, and sadness; a certain helplessness, and resignation. It occurred to him, as he squatted there held in the tractor beam of his brother's eyes, that he had only seen glimpses of happiness, and joy, over the last few months, when Charlie was with Debbie – or talking about her. He realized with a sinking heart that he had become used to this look in Charlie's eyes. He was further disheartened to understand that he and his father had not welcomed the one person who made it go away.
Charlie finally shrugged. "Sorry," he apologized – for what, Don did not know. "I'm almost warm enough to take a nap."
Alan heard his cue and exited the tent dragging a sleeping bag. "Want to use this for a pillow, son? I could bring out one of the foam mats. If you move back a little from the fire, you can sleep right there."
The flicker of a smile played over Charlie's face, and he used Don's knee for leverage while he stood slowly. He headed for the tent. "Thanks, Dad, but I'll just lay down in the tent for awhile. Is that okay?" He sounded as if he was afraid it actually might not be.
Alan just smiled and handed him the sleeping bag. "Of course it's all right. Your brother is going to help me move the picnic table. I think it would be better over there."
Don stood, protesting, and Charlie allowed a tiny grin before he disappeared into the tent.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
The third time he helped his father move the table, Don sat on the bench to discourage further out-terior decorating. He faced out, toward the dying fire, and studied the embers. "Dad," he said seriously, "I've been thinking about this whole Debbie thing."
Alan stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. "What whole Debbie thing? I told Charlie he should keep seeing her. She just warms up slowly. I guess."
Don tilted his head. "Well, yeah, that's possible; although she seemed to hit it off with Charlie right away. Are you at all concerned that it might be something we're doing? Maybe she feels our lack of enthusiasm."
Alan considered, sitting down beside Don. "You think I'm projecting that I still miss Amita, or something? I'll admit, I really hoped they would end up together. I gave up that dream quite reluctantly."
"Not just that," answered Don. "I think we're aware enough to watch out for that sort of thing. Maybe even too much."
Alan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Don tried to make the words come out the way the thoughts were hitting him. "Well, maybe we've concentrated too much on trying not to compare her with Amita, and we haven't really thought about what really scares us."
Alan was getting interested. Don wasn't usually much of one to share his introspections. "Which is?", he encouraged.
Don looked at him. "The last woman we believed was with him. Sure, we found out soon enough that it was all NSA crap, but the fact is that for a while we believed Colleen was his wife. At best he was unhappy with her, and let's face it…his relationship with Colleen and the NSA nearly got him killed. Twice."
Alan shook his head a little in disagreement. "I don't think so. I'm quite fond of Colleen." He suddenly looked a little concerned. "I hope the both of you know that…"
Don quickly reassured him. "We do, Dad; she does. But it took a while to get there, didn't it? To learn to separate her from the NSA and their decisions, and to appreciate that she actually probably kept Charlie alive. I'm just saying, maybe subconsciously we're afraid that Debbie will somehow hurt Charlie, just as the woman who preceded her did. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure how much more of that he can take."
The two sat in silence for a few minutes while Alan thought about Don's words. "You could have a point," he finally conceded. "I just asked myself if I would welcome anyone into Charlie's life, right now, and I have to be honest -- I wouldn't. Not even Amita – that relationship certainly contained pain of its own." His voice broke, a little, and decreased in volume. "I just want him to be happy. Safe." He smiled at Don through blurry eyes. "I've even considered bubble-wrap."
Don snorted as he stretched his arms behind him and let one settle around Alan. "I know what you mean."
Lying in the tent, unable to get quite warm enough to sleep, Charlie snuggled in the sleeping bag. As he shamelessly listened to their conversation, Charlie slowly stopped shivering and began to relax into the down. By the time Alan got to "bubble-wrap", Charlie's eyes were heavy and he felt comfortable. He knew his father and brother would protect him, while he napped in the tent, just as they always had.
With a final, shuddering sigh, Charlie let his eyes close, and slept.