Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

FraidyCat

Disclaimer: All Numb3rs characters and characterizations respectfully borrowed from CBS, Cheryl Heuton, Nick Falacci et al. No animals were harmed in the writing of this fanfic.

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Chapter 15: Some Glad Morning

Millie sighed in pleasure and lowered the microwaveable container to her lap. She smirked at Alan. "I had rather envisioned collecting my beef stroganoff at an actual table, from an actual plate...but this is delicious."

Alan grinned. "When you told me you were coming by to see Charlie during your lunch hour, I figured I should at least feed you. It's nice that they have a microwave in the visitors' lounge." He glanced at Charlie, whose own container of stroganoff sat virtually untouched on his bedside table. At least the boy was nibbling on one of the dinner rolls Alan had also brought; Alan decided to leave him alone for the time-being.

Millie saw Alan's subdued concern and tried to distract him. "Larry sends his greetings, Charlie. He's hoping to get by to visit this evening. I've been keeping him pretty busy."

Charlie placed the remainder of the dinner roll on top of his stroganoff. "Umm," he murmured. "With my classes in addition to...Amita's..." His voice trailed off, and he shifted in the bed. For the second day in a row, he had been ordered back to bed when his temperature began to rise. "The doctor said I should be able to go back to work a week after I'm released from the hospital."

Alan looked at him, surprised; he hadn't even known Charlie was thinking about returning to CalSci. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"There's no rush," interjected Millie. "I'm rather enjoying being back in a classroom on a regular basis. Take as long as you need."

Charlie's lips curled in a wry smile. "Forever wouldn't be long enough to 'get over' Amita, if that's what you're implying," he retorted. Neither of his visitors seemed to have a comeback for that one, and the room was silent for a few moments before Charlie sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was unnecessary. I do appreciate everything everyone's been doing...I just can't sit around the house and think all the time."

"Work can be a distraction," agreed Alan slowly. "It can also be an excuse, son."

Charlie's lips formed a grim line. "I'm not going to flip out again," he protested. "Not like.... I don't even want to work full-time, at first. Just a few classes a week, while I get used to being back on campus." And to Amita not being there, he added silently.

"I think that's an excellent idea," declared Millie. "Moderation, in all things."

Charlie turned to look at the empty container in her lap. "Except stroganoff," he observed drily.

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Charlie's temp went back down, and he was allowed to take a walk through the hospital corridors with Don that evening, after Alan had gone home.

"So. When are they busting you outta here?" asked Don.

Charlie shrugged. "Doc says I need to maintain a normal temperature for 24 hours."

"How long has the clock been ticking?"

"It's not, yet," Charlie answered. "When they took my temperature right before you got here, it was still 99. Technically, that's not normal."

Don bumped his shoulder lightly with his own. "Technically," he said, "neither are you."

Charlie smiled and bumped back -- hard. "You will pay for that, you know."

"I know," Don said. "Some things are just worth the price."

Charlie suddenly stopped walking; Don was two steps in front of him before he noticed, and executed a perfect about-face. "Charlie?" he asked, concerned.

Charlie's face was full of wonder as he looked back at Don. "You're absolutely right."

Don took a step closer to Charlie. "Well, I usually am," he agreed. "But what the hell are you talking about?"

Charlie's smile was more genuine and brighter than Don had seen in days. "She was worth it," his little brother said in an awe-struck voice. "Knowing Amita, loving Amita...even if I had known what the price would be, I still would have done it."

Don felt his own smile, so wide that his cheeks were strained. "Of course you would," he remarked simply. "That's why they call you a genius."

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EPILOGUE

The year before, there had been a late spring – which accounted for the dogwood blossoms in the meadow. On June 10th of this year, they were long gone. Even without them, the high mountain meadows were beautiful. A light breeze stirred the verdant grasses. Stunning, far-reaching views awaited the group at every bluff. When the trail wound through forested land, as it often did, cedar, silver fir, spruce and black oak mixed together to offer hikers shade, and a cool, green retreat from the city.

Charlie led the expedition, pack on his back; Don was just a few feet behind him. Charlie had taken to riding his bike to school again, obstensibly to rehab his knee, and by now was in fine hiking condition. Nevertheless, Don thought he could probably keep up with him – but it was important for Charlie to set the pace, so Don hung back a little.

Several feet behind him, Robin walked with Alan, the diamond on the third finger of her left hand glinting in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the forest canopy. With the aide of a walking stick, Alan had been holding up to the journey pretty well so far, but he was comforted by her proximity, nonetheless. Larry completed the entourage, bringing up the rear. He had often been Charlie's hiking partner, and would ordinarily be near the front, but today he kept stopping to record things with the video camera he carried.

Charlie slowed as the thick forest thinned into another meadow. He stood at the edge of the trees, his head tilted as if he was listening for something. Don stopped moving as well, and as each member of the group caught up to him, they formed a respectful semi-circle and waited. Almost a full minute passed before Charlie turned around to face them. "This is it," he announced before he turned back to the meadow. "This is the one."

Larry moved up to the edge of the woods with his camera, several feet to Charlie's left. He raised the camera and slowly panned the entire meadow, pivoting as he filmed. Rather than emptying into the forest again, this meadow tapered off into a bluff; it was the end of the trail. Larry let the camera linger on Charlie for a few moments before he went on to film the group standing behind him. He lowered the camera, and walked quietly over to his friend, saying nothing when he arrived. Don was soon standing on Charlie's other side. They stood that way, silently, for another few minutes.

Charlie lowered his head to his chest and inhaled deeply. When he lifted his head again, he began to speak. "Every year, we always came all the way to this meadow. It was her favorite. She liked to stand right on the edge of the bluff." He smiled, lost in the memory. "It made me nervous, but she just laughed at me; told me to get used to it -- I was walking on the wild side, now."

Don and Larry both smiled, but didn't comment. Alan was now directly behind Charlie. "Take your time, son. Whenever you're ready."

Charlie nodded, then squared his shoulders and readjusted the pack on his back. He looked briefly at Don before he left for the bluff on the other side of the meadow. "I need to do this alone," he reminded his brother.

Don nodded his understanding. "We'll be right here."

Charlie nodded again before he left for the bluff. When he was about halfway to his destination, Larry advanced several feet into the meadow, adjusted the camera to zoom mode, and raised it to his eye. He started filming, again; he watched through the lens as Charlie's feet took him to the very edge of the bluff. Charlie stood there a while, then shrugged the pack from his back and lowered it to the ground. He knelt next to the pack, fumbled with the zipper, and eventually withdrew the black, porcelain urn.

He stood, lifting the container with him. He hugged Amita to his chest and tilted his face to the sun. He stood that way for a moment, and then looked down at the urn, again. He moved one hand so that it rested on the snug lid. "I will always love you," he whispered. Then Charlie removed the lid, which he dropped onto the backpack. He gripped the urn tightly with both hands, and leaned perilously over the edge of the bluff -- Alan would have been terrified, if he'd had a better view.

Slowly, Charlie turned the urn upside down, and let the gentle breeze take her.

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They let Charlie sit alone near the bluff for almost an hour. Then Don crossed the meadow and lowered himself to the grass. "Charlie...it's almost 4 o'clock. We need to allow plenty of time to get back. I'm sorry..."

Charlie rotated his head so that he was facing Don. There was pain in his expression, yes; but Don was struck with the peace he saw on that face, as well. "It's all right," Charlie answered. "The trip back always takes less time." He had returned the now-empty urn to the pack, and he hefted it will him as he scrambled to his feet. "I think I can go a little faster, now; I don't feel so much....weight."

Don, also climbing to his feet, knew that Charlie wasn't referring to the weight of the ashes. The ritual of letting Amita go had been an important step towards Charlie's reconciling himself to life without her. "Good," he said, smiling as he draped an arm over Charlie's shoulders and turned him toward the group waiting on the other side of the meadow. "I'm glad."

Charlie dangled the pack from one hand rather than placing it on his back, again. "Thanks for helping me through this, Don," he said sincerely as they started walking. "I appreciate that you all came with me."

"We wouldn't be anywhere else," Don assured him. "Everybody here loves you -- and you know I've always got your back, right?"

Charlie smiled, lowering his head. "Absolutely," he said, watching his own feet tread through the meadow. "You know, Amita always said she never missed not having a sibling, until she saw the two of us together."

Don chuckled. "Didn't she ever see us disagree?"

"All the time," Charlie responded. "It's pretty much a daily occurence."

Don laughed again, then was silent while he remembered the conversation he had had with his father almost 8 months before. "Dad says there was a time when you and I weren't close," he finally said. "I don't remember that, do you?"

Charlie glanced up at him. His eyes were wide at first, but narrowed as a slow smile spread over his face. "He's an old man," he responded. "I think his memory's going."

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~ End ~

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A/N: And there you have it; a brief interlude in the lives of our heroes. (Now, admit it; I managed to kill Amita without dissing her at any junction along the way, didn't I?)

For the record, before anyone wastes a review: "According to the California Department of Consumer Affairs funeral guide, state law allows the scattering of ashes if there are no local prohibitions. Written permission, according to the agency, must be obtained from private property owners or agencies managing public land. The disposition of ashes is indicated on a county health department burial permit usually obtained by a mortuary."