Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic…except for Neal, Dean, Haldon, Peters, Mr. Crocelli, Steven, Jeffery. If I DID own the characters (Uh, DPS ones, obviously!), I'd have Charlie all to myself! And the things we could do in that Indian cave! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The poem is THE TWO VOICES by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

I still cannot believe it happened. And, I know it's a one time only 'I was too drunk that I'll never remember it happening' kiss for him, but for me! O me! O life! I find that I shall never look at him the same. It is doubtful he'll look at me the same as well, but I feel like…it's hard to describe…Peters heard Charlie coming down the hall and quickly hid his journal. He tried to act casual when Charlie came in. "Hey, Charlie."

"Hey." Charlie mumbled back. He had started remembering certain aspects of what happened in the cave and he found himself unsure of what to do next. He sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the Chemistry homework Mr. Hillard assigned.

"Charlie? You okay?" Peters worried that whatever friendship had been blooming between them was now fading.

Charlie turned around and faced his roommate. "Look, I don't want you to think any…I don't want you to…"

"You remember?" Peters turned around and sunk in his chair, feeling deflated. Tears formed in his eyes and he prepared himself for the shot.

"Yeah…vaguely, but I do remember." Charlie faced the wall opposite of his desk. "Nothing changes, pal."

"What do you mean 'Nothing changes'?"

"I still dig girls, okay? What you got on Saturday is all you're getting. I'm not into men."

Peters sighed a huge breath of relief. "Yeah, I got it."

"No one knows. Tell no one anything." Charlie faced his roommate, who was looking at him.

"Can I say one thing before we drop that it ever happened?" Peters pleaded.

Charlie shrugged. "Sure, then it's over and done with."

"I never meant for it to happen. You were just…I don't know…there came a point when it…it seemed natural to lean in and kiss you. I'm fine with it being a one time only deal. I mean, I know you're all about women. See, I've always known I've never been. I just can't…I can't be as open as who I want as you can. If anyone knew, I'd be kicked out and disowned." He looked at Charlie. "But, when you…this is going to change everything, but what the hell? Carpe diem, right?" He sighed. "I have this crush on you, Nuwanda. You're everything I'm not and I like that about you. And besides, if that's how you kiss…God! I wish I were a woman!" He laughed.

Charlie found himself laughing as well. "My dad has this book at home by Kinsey. It's a few years old by now. I think Kinsey wrote and published it in 1948 or 49, but it's interesting. He tried to keep it from us, but you know me. Always snooping about. Well, I found it and one part of it pretty much hints that every man has a need to be with another man. Or at least that's how I read it."

"When did you read this book?" Peters now faced his crush face to face.

"Over break a couple years ago. In fact, it was because of the book, that Neil Perry and I were dared to kiss." He laughed in memory.

"Did you?" Peters was now fully intrigued.

"Just a small peck on the lips, that was it, but I sensed he wanted more." Charlie sighed. "Anyway, even if you and I didn't…well, we connected and I think that our friendship shouldn't change because of it, but I suspect I'll be a little…"

"Nervous? Anxious?" Peters smiled.

"Jumpy, yeah. But I don't remember everything. We just kissed, right?"

"If you're asking if any articles of clothing were removed, no. It did get rather hot though. And uh…you may want to think of an excuse for the uh, mark, on your collarbone."

"WHAT?" Charlie freaked. "I don't remember…" He unbuttoned his shirt and saw the mark Peters had left. "What the…?" He looked at Peters.

"Sorry. I got carried away."

Charlie sat back in his chair, feeling defeated. Making out with Peters was one thing, but to have the former leave a mark? What would Charlie say it was from? He stood up. "I gotta…I can't…." Peters watched Charlie leave, wondering if he still meant 'nothing changes'.

Neal ran up and caught up with Charlie. "We were thinking…you okay, Charlie?" Neal got concerned when Charlie glared at him.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit. You're walking like you're going to kill someone." Neal doubled his pace to keep up with Charlie. "What's going on?"

"I just need to be alone." Charlie barked as he made his way to the cave.

Neal sighed and walked up to the room Peters and Charlie shared. "Hey." He opened the door quietly.

Peters jumped. He quickly shut the journal he'd been writing in and tried to hide it. "Hey. What's up?"

"I was going to ask you. Charlie is heading to the cave, looking like he's ready to kill. Do you know why?"

of course I know why. I was a fool to think that Nuwanda could just act like it never happened or even be thankful it did. He was okay until…what did I do? "No, I don't. I think it may have something to do with the letter he received from home a couple days ago."

"Why brood about it now?" Neal looked at the journal in Peters' hand.

"You know Charlie." Peters smiled. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to think of a poem to read at the next DPS meeting."

Neal got the hint. He nodded and made his way to the cave. "Charlie?" His voice echoed.

"Dammit, Neal. It's Nuwanda!" Charlie smiled as he held up a bottle of whiskey.

Neal laughed. "'Nuwanda'?"

"Yeah. 'Nuwanda'. Dammit. The alcohol isn't working quickly enough." Charlie was tempted to throw it, but he didn't want to waste the alcohol.

"Where'd you get that?" Neal took it from Charlie and took a sip.

"Don't ask. Don't tell. I just got it." Charlie winked.

Neal smiled. Charlie Dalton was an enigma. One day he was the tough arrogant 'I will kick your ass if you do that to me again' prick and the next he was this sad vulnerable young man that felt life was stacked against him. Charlie Dalton doesn't want to be figured out. Neal thought as he took yet another sip. The mystery of who he really is is what he thrives on. He'll never be figured out. Neal sat back and wondered what mystery Charlie Dalton would create in that cave on that night.

He didn't have to wonder long as Charlie began to recite a Tennyson poem. "A still small voice spake unto me; 'Thou art so full of misery; Were it not better not to be?; Then to the still small voice I said; 'Let me not cast in endless shade; What is so wonderfully made.'"

"'The Two Voices'?"

Charlie nodded. "Yep. It pretty much sums up how I feel."

"You hear voices?" Neal suppressed a laugh.

"No, idiot. Think of the poem. It is a struggle of one man to determine the worth of his life." He recited more of the poem.

"Then did my response clearer fall:

'No compound of this earthly ball

Is like another, all in all.'

To which he answer'd scoffingly;

'Good soul! suppose I grant it thee,

Who'll weep for thy deficiency?

'Or will one beam be less intense,

When thy peculiar differenee

Is cancell'd in the world of sense?'

I would have said, 'Thou canst not know,'

But my full heart, that work'd below,

Rain'd thro' my sight its overflow.

Again the voice spake unto me:

'Thou art so steep'd in misery,

Surely 'twere better not to be.

'Thine anguish will not let thee sleep,

Nor any train of reason keep:

Thou canst not think, but thou wilt weep.'"

Neal sat, looking at Charlie, wondering what the recital of the poem meant, if anything.