Author: FraidyCat

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. They are close personal friends.

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Chapter 1

He stood uncertainly and looked around. He had no idea how he had gotten here…but it was nice. He felt warm, and the last thing he remembered feeling was cold; freezing, in fact — so that was an improvement. It was also beautiful. He appeared to be in the middle of a meadow, a lush oasis surrounded on all sides by thick, spiraling evergreens. Was this in California? He wondered how he and Larry had never found this place on one of their hikes, if it was.

He sank down to rest in the tall grass, sitting cross-legged. He watched a butterfly flit in lazy, disjointed circles for a while, then tilted his head back to look at the deep, blue sky. A cloud floated across his field of vision, and he closed his eyes. He felt the sun on his face, and his body grew heavy. So, he allowed himself to sink the rest of the way down. He lay on his back and stretched his legs out vertically, his arms out horizontally. Eyes still closed, he moved his limbs lazily, making angels in the grass.

He did that until he heard a familiar tinkle of laughter, followed by a voice he knew better than his own. "You always did love doing that, Charlie. Every time we traveled anywhere there was snow in the winter, you couldn't wait to flop on your back in it and make angels."

His eyes popped open and he sat up with a jerk. His mother sat in the grass near him, and he felt the air leave his lungs. "Mom?", he gasped, reaching out a hand toward her.

She rose to her knees and leaned over to take him in her arms. She was warm, and soft, and memory, and he felt her breathing in his hair as he clutched at her. He tightened his hold and began to sob, and she soothed him, as she always had. "Shhh, baby, don't cry. It's all right." She spoke such things lowly and calmly, until he was able to disentangle himself from her and sit back in the grass. She brushed tears off his cheek, smiling, and then did the same herself, settling into the earth a little.

They stared at each other.

"Mom?", Charlie finally said again.

She understood that the single word contained a myriad of questions. "Don't get used to it, sweetheart. You can't stay."

Unconsciously, he adopted the wounded look that had always gotten him what he wanted. "Why not?", he sulked.

She smiled again. "It's a visit. Special dispensation." The smile became a frown. "Your heart has been so heavy, son. We can feel it, here. We thought this might help you."

He ran a hand through his curls. "I'll feel better if I can stay here, with you."

"You'll feel better if you have the answer. You never could live without answers."

Charlie looked at her, confused. "Answer? To what?"

She tilted her head. "To the question, of course."

"What question?" His voice was plaintive, but she continued to regard him solemnly.

"Charlie. Quit stalling."

He looked away, trying to find the butterfly again. When he spoke, it surprised him. He hadn't been intending to, and he didn't even know what he was saying. He listened as an interested guest to his own voice. "Dad says you understood. About the end." He looked back at her fearfully. "Did you?"

"Ah." She tilted her own face into the sun for a moment and then looked at him once more, eyes bright. "You are my heart," she answered. "How could I not understand?" He didn't answer, but held her gaze, mesmerized by her bright eyes. "Truthfully, Charlie? It made it easier for me. I couldn't bear your pain. My own?" She shrugged, flitted a hand. "Nothing. That I could handle." A slow smile started again, and her face flushed with pride. "But oh, sweet Charlie…I see how far you've come, since then. In the beginning, I blamed myself. I protected you from life, and I made your father do it, too. I wanted you to be free to pursue your genius…." She closed her eyes and sighed a little, tracing her fingers along his arm. "I've learned there is no solution in blame." She opened her eyes again and regarded him intently, seriously. "That is what I have to tell you. Oh, son, what I have seen in you since I had to leave. I know you've struggled. But that struggle has brought you strength, and love. You can have even more. Just make room for it in your heart."

His voice was small. He wasn't really sure if he spoke, or just thought the word. "How?"

"Forgive yourself. You can't really move on until you do — you'll keep coming back here."

"Good," he said, petulantly. "I like it here. I like it with you."

She reached out and caressed his cheek briefly, and he leaned into her touch. "We'll be together soon enough," she whispered. "I'll save your place."

Before Charlie's eyes, she began to fade, and he started to panic. He spoke rapidly, a rush of words. "Don't go. Mom, don't go. Please."

He could barely see her smile, now, hardly hear her words. "Dearest. I'm not going anywhere. You are."

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He blinked.

Charlie blinked, and she was gone. He cursed himself, desperate to get her back. She had come while he was making angels in the grass, so he threw himself backwards, squeezed his eyes shut and started again. He could make her come back, if the angels were beautiful enough. He tried to concentrate on the movements of his arms and legs, but they did not brush easily through warm grass as they had before. Rather, something pushed against his arms, and held his legs down, and he knew, he knew, that he was loosing her forever.

"Easy, Charlie, easy. The ambulance is on its way. Take it easy, Buddy."

He opened his eyes. Not slowly, as if he had been sleeping. Not painfully, as if something hurt. Not by centimeters, as if the room were too bright. All at once, wide and wild, and focusing immediately on Don's face leaning over him. "What?", he said, eyes searching his brother's. "Where?" Charlie felt a squeeze through his bicep and he understood that Don was holding him down. "Why?", he added.

Don's eyes were frightened; concerned; determined. "Because you just flew across the hall and bounced off the wall unconscious, that's why. Stop fighting us, okay?"

"Where?", Charlie asked again, as he slowly gave up on making angels. He felt someone let go of his legs, and his father's terrified face appeared before him.

Alan put a shaking hand on Charlie's forehead. "At home, son. You were trying to fix the furnace."

Don suddenly split into two people. Both of them were pale. He still gripped Charlie's arm, even though Charlie wasn't fighting, anymore. Charlie swallowed, and picked a brother to focus on."No. Not 'where am I'. Where is she?"

Don's eyes added confusion to the mix, and he exchanged a look with one of Charlie's fathers – there were suddenly two of them, also. Don looked back at Charlie. "It's just us, Buddy. The three of us…God, Charlie, I'm so sorry. I complained that the heat wouldn't come up again, but I didn't think you'd take a screwdriver to the unit without cutting the power, first…"

That suddenly, Charlie was made aware of two things: a throbbing, insistent pain in his head; and an aching, gaping hole in his heart.