Chapter 25

Yep, there was no underestimating the power of a good breakfast, Alan thought cheerfully to himself, as he added cheese to the eggs in the pan. Well, brunch actually, it was late in the morning. His sons had made it up to their bedrooms at some point, and had both slept in. They were now sitting at the table, showered, and looking rested, and more importantly, normal. Their body language was relaxed, their eyes had lost the look of hurt and uncertainty, and Charlie actually had a quiet smile on his face. There was a lot to be said for normal.

He brought the eggs to the table and sat, dishing them up, trying to put a name on what he saw in their eyes. Strength, he decided; it was strength – strength that he suspected they drew from each other. Charlie even looked interested in the food, and Alan saw Don watching his brother with another expression that Alan couldn't quite name, but it was gentle.

"So," said Alan briskly, after they had gotten a good portion of their breakfast down. "What are you doing today, Charlie?"

Charlie looked up from his plate, considering for a moment. "I think I'll consolidate some of the work I've done, get it down on paper."

Alan pursed his lips, trying to hide twinge of annoyance. "You don't think you've spent enough time in that garage? Why don't you get out, get some air?"

Charlie gave him a small smile. "I will Dad, but I think I should get this stuff off the boards, before I lose it. I'll take a break from it as soon as I do that, I promise."

Don eyed him doubtfully. He couldn't imagine how his brother had managed to work on anything in the past few days, considering his physical and emotional state. "So you actually made some progress, huh? What were you working on?"

"Cognitive Emergence," said Charlie around a mouthful of toast. He swallowed, and spoke quietly. "I was mapping the brain's reaction to pain, comparing the responses to physical versus emotional pain."

They stared at him with their mouths open. He looked back, with an odd expression, almost apologetic but not quite, and opened his mouth to try to explain, then closed it. He wasn't going to apologize; life had presented him with first-hand experience, and it had given him some insight. He suspected that they thought he was using himself like some kind of specimen for a sick science experiment, but he knew that there was nothing further from the truth. The reality was that as always, no matter how personal the subject matter, his numbers had given him some relief, a life preserver to hang on to in his darkest moments. The fact that the personal experience provided inspiration was just a by-product of that.

The doorbell rang, and Alan rose, still trying to get his mind around his son's last statement. "I'll get it." Who would have thought that out of the three of them, he would be the most mobile?

Charlie poked at the last remnants of his eggs, and cast a sidelong glance at Don, who was watching him. "What?"

Don shook his head with a bemused look, and was opening his mouth to reply, when Alan called. "Charlie!"

Charlie limped out into the living room. His father moved away from the door with a strange expression, and Charlie saw the reason for it as Amita stepped in, uncertainly, and stood in the doorway. She smiled tentatively as she saw him, and he felt his stomach tighten. The eggs were suddenly not sitting so well. He felt Don step up behind him, as his gaze flickered over her shoulder.

Amita caught the look. "It's just me. I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing."

Charlie took a deep breath, as Don stepped beside him, his face cold. Afraid that his brother was going to say something that he'd regret, Charlie spoke quickly and stepped forward toward her, leaning on his cane. "Fine. Better." He reached the doorway. "Let's go outside." They stepped out into the sunshine, and Alan and Don exchanged a wary look.

They walked over to stand by her car, and she stood awkwardly for a moment, looking at him. He did look better, but was still painfully thin, she thought, as he leaned on his cane. She really had no idea what had happened, other than the fact that he had been attacked by a suspect with a knife, and had been seriously injured. Megan had not given her a lot of details. Amita hadn't realized until she saw him in the hospital how hard he was taking her other relationship, or at least that's what she told herself. In the prior weeks, she had pushed aside his hurt looks, his avoidance of her, trying to ignore them, figuring they would pass. Well, it didn't matter now, she thought, she had some good news for him.

She leaned forward and hugged him, self consciously, but he didn't return it. She stepped back and glanced at him, a little taken aback. "So, you're feeling better."

Charlie endured the hug. It was funny, but the embrace didn't seem to have the impact that he thought it would. "Yeah," he said, as if just realizing it himself. "Quite a bit better. How have you been?"

Amita winced at the formal tone. "Actually, just okay. Bill and I broke up."

'Bill. So that was his name.' "I'm sorry."

She shrugged ruefully. "It's okay, we just weren't meant to be. I wanted you to know that he was a mistake." She paused and looked up into his face, meaningfully, and took his free hand. "I've been thinking about this a lot, and I believe that you and I are a different story." She tilted her face suggestively.

Charlie's breath caught at the sight of her beautiful eyes, so close; her lips, offering themselves for a kiss. A week or two ago, he would have killed to hear her say this. He gave her hand a small squeeze and pulled his away. "I don't think so," he said softly.

A look of hurt and confusion crossed her face. "What do you mean?"

He stared back, trying to come up with words. Amita had used him, he realized, just as Ian had; she had used him as a safety net; their relationship was good as long as it was convenient for her. If he had come out of the last week with anything, it was the conviction that he would no longer allow himself to be used. There was strength inside him that he hadn't possessed before, and he took a deep breath and faced her squarely.

"I think we need to take a step back," he said softly, but firmly. "I can't commit to something that I am not sure is there."

She looked at him in distress. "It is there, Charlie – I made a mistake – I realize that now."

He shook his head sadly. "No, Amita, I don't think it was ever there for you, and I'm not sure it ever will be. The last time we talked, you mentioned being friends. I think it's best if we just leave it that way."

She stared back at him, stunned. His look was sad, but unwavering, and she realized with a pang that he would not be swayed.

Charlie leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. The kiss had an air of finality to it; a dismissal. "Take care. I'll see you at school."

Tears were forming in her eyes, and she groped for the door, and somehow found her way into the seat. Charlie stepped to the side slightly, watching her as she backed down the driveway. As she reached the street and shifted gears, she looked back at him. Don and Alan had stepped into the doorway, and were standing watching her, just as Charlie was. They were too far away to have heard the conversation, but their presence said 'unconditional support' just as loudly as if they had screamed it. It was funny, she thought as she drove off, wiping the tears away, but she had never realized what a solid unit the three of them were, what a united front they presented.

Her heart gave a painful twist, as she realized that that was the kind of love and support that she could have expected from Charlie, and she had thrown it away.

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"He thought what?!"

Don looked back at his agents' faces; all three of them wearing an identical expression of disbelief. They had been called in on a drive-by and were sitting in the office, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the office windows.

"Yeah," said Don softly, muted pain in his face. "The way Ian presented it; Charlie thought that I set it up. When you guys showed up, he assumed you were in on it."

'No wonder,' thought Megan, thinking of Charlie's reactions after the incident.

"Oh, man," breathed David, "That's-," He rubbed his face.

"Screwed up," finished Colby softly, finishing the sentence almost automatically. He felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe he thought we would do that on purpose."

"Well," said Megan, "Think about it. He probably wasn't thinking very straight to begin with after everything that happened. When you look at it from his perspective, it probably did look planned." She sighed. "Poor Charlie – to go through all of that, thinking-,' She broke off as she saw a spasm of pain cross Don's face.

"He's okay now, though," said David anxiously. "He understands what happened?"

"Yeah, yeah, he gets it," said Don. "He understands – at least as it relates to us. He knows Edgerton was behind it all; that he was giving the orders in the field." He looked at them, holding their eyes steadily. "He's actually doing a lot better, now that he knows how it went down."

They sat silently for a moment; then Don stood and crossed the room. "We need to get going on the shooting. What do we have?"

The others swiveled to face Don, but Colby sat still for a minute, staring blankly at the pile of papers on his desk. "I'm sorry, Whiz Kid,' he thought sadly. He hoped to God that they would never find themselves in another situation like that. But if they ever did, orders and protocol be damned. He would defend Charlie, or any of his teammates for that matter, or die trying. He took a deep breath, filled with conviction, and straightened in his chair, turning his attention to the next case.

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It was late afternoon, and Charlie had almost finished recording his latest work. Don had headed back into the office, saying something about a shooting, and Alan had gone out to run errands that had been put off for the last couple of weeks. Charlie leaned on his cane, surveying the final chalkboard, his thoughts wandering back to his conversation with his brother.

They had talked for hours, about everything. Much of it was painful, but it was cathartic. Most of all they talked about the case; and nothing was spared. All of the details, all of the feelings; came tumbling out in a conversation like one they had never had before.

He was still reeling from it all, and from the huge waves of relief that kept surging back at odd times. He felt a little guilty now that he had even thought that his brother could have betrayed him. It was unlike himself to be so – cynical. All of the facts had pointed to that conclusion, though, he told himself. The biggest mistake he had made was not recognizing that Edgerton had lied to him. His mind flickered back to that moment in the hospital, to Edgerton's dark expressionless eyes. He could almost hear his voice.

"Charlie." Wow, that sounded real. His imagination was working overtime. "Charlie."

As his name was spoken a second time, Charlie whirled, forgetting about his leg, and winced, catching himself awkwardly. He stood staring at Edgerton, who had stepped quietly into the doorway. A few shafts of reflected light came through the windows, and tiny particles of chalk dust swirled through them, the only things moving in the room.

After a long moment, Edgerton spoke. "I tried to see you in the hospital. Your brother had a little problem with that. I wanted to talk to you."

Charlie began to recover from his surprise. How like Edgerton to wait until he was alone, he thought darkly. He replied; his voice laced with sarcasm. "Why? What's your motive this time?"

Edgerton winced. "No motive. I admit; I did lie to you to get you out there. I didn't think you would come otherwise. What I wanted to tell you was that I never intended to let Mansour touch you. I thought I could keep you safe."

Charlie looked at him, pain and anger apparent on his face. "How can you even say that? You used me. You handed me over to Mansour on purpose."

"No – not on purpose. I heard Don's team coming up behind us on the hill, and I thought it was Mansour. I dropped back to check it out. Mansour saw his opportunity and attacked."

Charlie looked back at him, distrust on his face, and Edgerton took a deep breath. "It was what I did next that was wrong. I let him have you – I thought I could follow you both to his canyon, and find the officer that was missing, and rescue you both at the same time. It was a stupid decision – I had to make it in a split second, and I didn't base it on logic, I let emotion make it for me."

Edgerton closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Charlie could see the pain in them. "It was wrong – I was wrong. I let a case get the better of me. I made poor decisions, and after I made them, I failed to execute. I let him get away, and you paid for it."

"I'm not here to make excuses," he continued quietly, wearily. "I am accepting my responsibility now, and I will on Tuesday at the hearing. I'm here to say that I'm sorry. I know an apology is probably meaningless, but I felt I owed you one. And I wanted you to understand that this will always be with me, for the rest of my life."

He looked at Charlie, his gaze level, his eyes sad, and then turned and stepped out of the room. Charlie stood motionless, mute, watching the dust swirl behind him.

-------------------------End Chapter 25-------------------------------------------------------