A/N: Thanks go to the ever wonderful Separatrix for her reading through and critiquing my work. Of course, any errors that are remaining are my own.

Unavoidable Truths - Chapter 14

Charlie checked in to the Renaissance Hotel at just after two in the afternoon. He took the key card the clerk passed to him with a smile and then she wished him a wonderful stay. He tried to look as happy to be there in return since being on vacation in Las Vegas should be an exciting time, but he was tired and achy as he hadn't slept well at all last night and the plane ride had been cramped and loud. He hadn't even been able to focus on a single math problem.

He trudged into the elevator and pressed the key for the fifth floor. Five was a good number, a Fermat prime, a Fibonacci number and the first Wilson prime. The number itself occurs often in nature--five oceans, the five senses and so on. So he was happy with his destination and when he used the key card to enter his room, he was surprised at how comfortable it looked; it was decorated in a retro 60's style in greens, oranges and dark wood tones.

He threw his bags down onto the far right of the bed and gently lowered himself down being careful of his bandaged shoulder, toed his shoes off and laid down without bothering to pull back the covers. He shut his brain off for once and let sleep claim him even though it was still early afternoon.

Alan had left the house, in stunned shock at the words that had come pouring out of Don's mouth. So stunned in fact, the words had driven him to his old favorite bar about five miles from the house. He'd visited it many a night after work before heading home to his sick wife, who had been bed-ridden with terminal cancer, just over two years ago. After sitting in silence and drinking a few beers, he'd headed back to his home with so many questions and a lot of guilt and anger roiling around inside of him.

The minute he'd walked into the door and saw Don sitting almost in the exact spot in which he'd left him over two hours ago, he let loose with the one question that had been sitting on his mind, "What do you mean, you're in love with Charlie? He's your brother..."

Don cut his father off in mid-sentence, "According to you he's not my brother, not genetically. We're distant cousins, and learning that made me so much more relieved than I can ever tell you. That's why I told you how I feel about Charlie. One minute I'm looking at my brother with exasperated affection and the next minute I'm looking into his eyes and falling headlong into love. I'd been questioning my feelings for weeks prior to that moment last Saturday and since then, it's been a constant struggle to keep everything under wraps. Charlie figured it out on Sunday, and he's been really decent about it. Not judging me, accepting that I have feelings for him, even though he knows they're wrong. But you have no idea how disgusted with myself I've been. I know we're still relatives and it's still morally and legally wrong, but in my head there are degrees to this situation; one sibling loving another is just second to a parent loving their child in being truly horrific. One cousin loving another isn't so bad. Still bad, but just not as morally reprehensible."

"If you know this, then why tell me? What did you hope to gain by my knowing?" Alan asked.

"Because... I think Charlie left this morning because my feelings for him finally sank in. That he's disgusted with me as I have been with myself and that drove him away. He can't stand to be in the same house with me." Don ran his hands through his hair in frustration and sadness. "I need to find him and let him know what you told me. Maybe... Maybe then he won't be so upset with me and he'll come home or at the very least, let me stay and enjoy Vegas with him liked we'd planned."

Alan sat down next to Don and put his arm around his son. "Don, I don't think Charlie left here because of your feelings for him. I'm sure he's given this full thought and if he's told you he's okay with things, then he is. Charlie is as stubborn as the rest of the Eppes' men," here Alan squeezed Don gently and with love at his teasing. "So Charlie's not likely to change his mind once he's made it up. All right?"

"Yeah, I know. I keep telling myself not to be so paranoid. The only other thing I can think of that might have made Charlie upset enough to leave is that something went wrong on his date with Amita. I mean he did say something in passing on his way out that things hadn't gone well, but he wasn't specific as to what. I was thinking that I should call her, but I honestly don't know how to ask without coming across as a nosy, interfering ass."

Alan snorted at Don. "This behavior isn't like you at all, Don. What's with this self pity? For heaven's sake, you work for the FBI. You know how to question people.

"Honestly, just tell her you're concerned about Charlie, that he came home in a strange mood last night and then ask her if she knew what caused it. It's as easy and as simple as that." Alan reached over and picked up the cordless phone and handed it to Don. "Call her. Find out why Charlie ran out of here like something spooked him."

"Thanks, Pop." Don looked at the phone and back at Alan. "Beyond the issue of why Charlie ran, do you think I should wait until Charlie gets back to let you tell him the news about my real relationship with him, or should I follow him and break the news to him in person?"

Alan straightened and started fidgeting with the paper sitting on the coffee table. "The news affects your relationship with him, apparently now on more than one level than his with me. So perhaps you should tell. How and when, is your call."

Don snorted. "You just don't want to have to tell the story a second time. After I call Amita and find out if she knows anything, I'll go up and search Charlie's room for his itinerary and location."

Alan stood as he spoke, "Actually, let me do that so you can avoid the stairs."

Don nodded his agreement and thanks.

Once he heard the last step being taken up the stairs and the opening of Charlie's bedroom door, Don cycled through the phones memory list and selected Amita's cell phone number, then pushed the talk button.

Don heard the click of the phone being answered and before he could say 'hello' he heard Amita speak. "Hey, Charlie."

"Um, it's Don actually. Hey, Amita."

Don could hear the hesitation and unasked question of 'why are you calling me' in Amita's voice when she responded, "Oh, hi Don. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Well, the reason I'm calling is because of Charlie. He came home last night kind of distracted and then before I know it, he's left this morning for Las Vegas without me. He didn't say why and I just wanted to know if something was wrong with Charlie while you and he were on your date, or if something during the date outside the two of you might have upset him?" Don tried to make his voice as amenable and pleasant as possible, so that she wouldn't take any offense in his directly asking how their date went and not imply that she'd screwed his bro... cousin over. "I'm just really worried about him, Amita."

Over the phone, Don could hear a long drawn out sigh and wondered what would cause that reaction. "As I'm sure you'll know sooner or later, Charlie realized last night that it wouldn't work out between the two of us after all. He'd been distracted all evening in fact, and I had called him on it. Plus, we'd had a minor disagreement over this gay couple that had been in the restaurant. They were holding hands in public and being openly affectionate." Don could hear the disgust in her voice and he cringed. He just knew that she wouldn't take well to knowing about Don's own change in persuasion, if she were ever to be told. And that it would probably change the dynamics of her working relationship with Charlie and him in dealing with FBI matters. Well that's definitely something that would upset Charlie no end; to have things possibly strained between me and his co-worker slash friend. But not really a reason to take off without a good explanation.

"Hmm, okay. Honestly, not to be rude, but that doesn't sound like it would be enough of a reason to leave for Vegas early. So nothing else comes to mind?"

"I'm sorry, Don. Charlie seemed to be in relatively good mood, though still distracted on the way back to your place. I can't tell you any more than that." Amita, at that point, sounded distracted and Don knew that her mind had moved on to other things. He made agreeable noises, thanked her and hung up.

Don put the phone back on the coffee table and twisted his body around to stare at the staircase leading upwards. He wondered what his dad had found, if anything, and what was taking so long in trying to find it. He was about to yell out and ask what was happening, when the squeak of weight landing on the first stair sounded.

"He's staying at the Renaissance Hotel. There's a phone number here, did you want to try calling through and asking for his room?" Alan handed over the print out Charlie had left on his desk buried under a mathematics journal.

Don looked at the sheet of paper and saw that Charlie had reserved a room for a week and would be back the following Saturday. He didn't want to have such a delicate conversation over the phone, and waiting a week in agony to find out why Charlie had left in such a hurry without him would just drive him slowly insane. "I think I'll book a flight out first thing for tomorrow and a room at the same hotel. We should really talk face to face and I don't think I could wait a week until he's back home."

Alan looked at him with concern, "Are you sure you should attempt a trip on a cramped flight with your leg not fully healed?"

Don hesitated as he held the phone. He wavered for a split second, concerned about being on an airplane for fifty minutes and thought he might be able to handle it as long as he took his pain medication. He wasn't totally sure the pain and misery the flight would cause him would be worth it overall, but he needed to confront Charlie so he'd put up with the discomfort if he had to. "Maybe I'll call a travel agent and specify my requirements of having a first class seat so I can have room to prop out my leg, and request a cart to pick me up and drop me off inside the terminal. That should work.

"Would you get me a phone book, Dad. I don't have a usual agent, so I need to find someone to deal with it all. Oh and my wallet as well, I'll probably need to give them my Visa number. It should be in my case sitting in the corner behind the chair."

He would have preferred doing everything online, but he had to request something extra above and beyond just booking a seat and room, so he would call an agent and would definitely make sure he'd be in Vegas by tomorrow evening at the latest. He also wasn't sure if maybe he should take his gun with him or not, it was Las Vegas, and well with Charlie, one could never tell what kind of trouble the younger man could get into. Yeah, with Charlie it was better to be safe than sorry. This past Tuesday definitely attested to that clichéd phrase.

Charlie woke from his nap feeling refreshed and carefree of the troubles that had driven him to Vegas. He would gamble, enjoy the food and shows, and perhaps along the way his heart, mind and body would come to some form of agreement on the situation with Don. He hoped by this time next week, he could return home free of the anxiety that had plagued him all night and into the morning.

After he washed his face and tried to tame the riot of his curling hair, Charlie set out to find a good meal and he was in the mood for prime rib and a beer. He knew that the well known ENVY Steakhouse that the hotel boasted would definitely fit the bill, but hopefully not break his bank account before he had a chance to replenish his already diminished funds.

Once the act of eating was accomplished, and the smile on his face matched the one that the clerk at the desk had given him when he had checked in, he set out to see what the nearest gambling establishment held in the way of blackjack and poker. When he stopped by the front desk to ask, they directed him to the shuttle that would take him to the Wynn Resort and Casino; it was within easy walking distance and was free. Free was a price he could readily afford.

Once he arrived at the casino, and noticed that a good number of people were playing with what looked like red cards, Charlie set about finding the cashiers area and getting a line of credit and chips in which to play with.

As he passed the army of one-armed bandits, the ringing of a solitary slot machine nearby indicated someone had hit a jackpot, he slowed to watch the people who hadn't won look disgruntled and then pour more money into the machine they were occupying. He shook his head at their gullibility. Didn't they know the odds of winning on the machines were? Anyone who had any interest in playing a slot should definitely research the probability of hitting a jackpot. From what he could remember, each reel could have up to a possible number of two hundred starting at zero and that number was picked at random. Since most machines had three reels that meant three random numbers and the higher payout combinations would have fewer slots assigned out of the two hundred. Add in to the equation that probably close to half of the virtual numbers on each reel were blank. The spinning of the wheel was just for show and entertainment, the results were already determined the minute you pulled the arm. He did the math in his head and figured that the odds of winning would be something like one to two hundred and fifty thousand. Which meant he'd personally never touch one, and even if he weren't one armed himself at the moment, he thought they were also discriminatory towards those who were left handed.

He continued to pass the filled rows of machines until he came to the glassed in cases of cashiers and drew out his credit card to finance this venture. He figured he'd start small, get a feel for the cards, tables and dealers. He didn't want to blow all his money the first day and if he did do fairly well, he certainly didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. Card counters were spotted and hauled out of the casinos faster than he could certainly come up with a solution to the P versus NP problem, but not so fast that he couldn't recite at least the first one hundred digits to Pi before that event occurred.

Once he had what he needed, he wandered through the numerous tables of blackjack first and when he came upon one with an empty seat, he settled in and waited for the current hand to finish before he placed his first bet.

Charlie played for a solid couple of hours, winning more than he lost and just as he was about to walk away for the evening, the lady who had been playing next to him turned and smiled. She also had done fairly well throughout the evening, which he was sure accounted for her smile. But he was taken by surprise, when she asked him if he'd like to join her in one of the lounges for a drink.

He'd noticed she was attractive, well dressed and had a very pleasant voice during their game play, and now that he'd been offered a chance to get to know her better, he was torn. This could be the chance to prove to himself that what he'd felt last night in regards to Don was a fluke and a passing fancy.

"Sure. I'd enjoy that."

TBC