CHAPTER EIGHT

Charlie sat up on the couch, elbows on knees, staring at his phone, thumb moving back and forth over the tiny screen. The message was sparse and it hadn’t changed since the time he got it. He paused his thumb in mid-movement, the screen reading: f(x) = c = 1.

c = 1. Charlie’s breath was heavy. Lead them as you see fit.

He was in charge. “Vahn,” he whispered, “what do you want me to do?”

Lead them as you see fit.

Charlie bit his lip, silent for a moment, until he got up and put the phone away. He needed to do something. There were decisions to be made, even if he didn’t know which ones, but nothing would happen if he continued to sit around waiting. He packed up his work and draped the windbreaker over his arm. He needed to go home and shower, get a change of clothes and see someone about starting to make those decisions. Opening the door of his office and stepping out he almost crashed into a familiar face.

“Charlie,” Amita took a balancing step back, smiling up at him, “I was just looking for you.”

“Oh, oh you were?” Charlie stuttered, “What, um what about?”

“Well, no one’s seen you since you ended your morning lecture and people said you looked busy, your door was closed.” She said, “We left you alone but its late afternoon Charlie, did you even eat lunch yet?”

He looked away. He had a coffee; he had bought a coffee earlier. But he had set the cup down on his desk and by the time he woke up and got to it, it was cold and he had lost all desire for food or drink.

“I thought so.” Amita said amused, “So. I thought since you didn’t have any more classes today, we could grab a bite to eat.”

He stared at her. He knew they had been going somewhere. Or both of them were trying and they wanted it to go somewhere, the first person since Susan that he had thought maybe he could be with. Amita was smart and funny, she understood his academic ramblings and his eccentric tendencies. She was few years younger then him, bright and beautiful, indulgent of his genius; like Susan.

Charlie clenched his hands into fists. Susan hadn’t been empty, but she hadn’t been enough. Charlie had thought maybe this time it didn’t matter: Amita didn’t have to be ‘enough’, those volatile times behind him, the pain of loss distanced by time. It hadn’t gotten better, Charlie didn’t forget but sometimes he chose not to remember; it wasn’t the earth-shattering moment that always jumped to his mind first. He learned to live with it.

He learned to live, despite it.

He thought it was done; those days with the big risks and tremendous rewards, of death always on stand by and the awareness of life pulsing through his veins every second. The days of hot summer and blazing sun; the nights of cool heat and his name spoken in wonder like a prayer.

Charlie was just a mathematician now. A professor, one of many. Not The Professor. A consultant, a good one, but not military – just a recruited scientist.

Charlie was normal now, eccentric but what true genius wasn’t? A consultant for the FBI but still a normal civilian, no gun clipped to his hip, no soldiers falling in line when he barked orders. No lives, people that he loved, on the line except for Don’s – but Don always had back up and the support of the federal bureau. Charlie was just a normal man who went to school and taught math and occasionally helped out his older brother at the work place; he wasn’t an operative, he wasn’t in charge, and he didn’t have blood on his hands.

Charlie breathed.

Charlie was supposed to be a different man, a different man from when he was in the Company and when he was part of Frynd-Sign.

Charlie thought he was, had been, but with the new circumstances, with old friends and treasured people showing up; the memories aren’t that far away. The man he was wasn’t gone.

Charlie has had two fulfilling relationships in his past; with Krythan and Vahn, and with Anderson. Until the end with Anderson, he was happy. The relationship with Krythan and Vahn never ended.

He and Susan didn’t work out and he knows there will always be regrets between them. He doesn’t know if Susan ever suspected, or knew, that he had been recovering from being with someone but Charlie had always felt reminders of Anderson’s presence, or lack of, between him and Susan starkly.

Amita deserved better. Charlie wants her to have better.

Amita was expecting to be with a different man, the man Charlie had wished and tried to be for the better half of the last decade. But Charlie knew now that as along as he remembered, as long as Frynd-Sign existed, he could never be with someone who didn’t know. It wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to him.

“I’m sorry.” He told her, wishing it hadn’t happened like this.

“Oh,” she blinked. “That’s fine Charlie, if you have something to do. We can always grab a meal some other time.”

“Previous engagements have come up.” He continued, “Old friends are coming to visit. I’m sorry.”

Her smile was tinged with confusion. “That’s fine Charlie. I’ll see you later then.”

He wasn’t good at lying, he never was. But he grew good at omitting. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, knowing she didn’t understand and probably never would, and walked away.

. : - : .

He told himself he had stopped this. He promised himself when he had tried, really tried, with Anderson that he had moved on from it. When the monitor flat lined and he sat staring at the cooling body of a man who loved him with everything. He was going to stop wishing for Don.

But now again all he wanted was for Don to be there with him and to have his arms to sink into. For Don to promise that everything would be okay, for Don to make everything right in the world; a world where the numbers in front of him weren’t a body count, not of his friends.

Which was stupid because the last time they had hugged was a decade ago, before rifts and secrets and high school; before Don let his open arms fall and turned his back to Charlie to hang with his friends instead of acknowledging the desperate younger brother who nipped at his coattails.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Charlie looked up from the table to the doorway of the make-shift office. “Griffin. You’re back. I’m alright, I’ll get something to eat with Krythan and Vahn later.”

Sergeant Griffin Beck snorted. “Krythan’s gone on another strike mission and Vahn’s off on recon.” The army soldier stared at the curly headed top of the man a decade younger then him. “Seriously Charlie, when was the last time you ate and slept?”

Charlie rubbed a hand over his face, knowing that there were large visible bags under his eyes and his skin was pale. He didn’t really know when he last ate and slept. He didn’t know what day it was. “I’m fine Griffin.” Charlie looked back down at the maps of the base and scattered calculations on the desk, “I’ll get something later. Why don’t you go check on your team?”

The stocky man looked away. “They’re dead.” The soldier said monotonously, “Lilah passed away this morning. She was the last.”

Charlie felt the words like a punch in the gut. So many had been lost, and they were losing more each day. Two weeks. It had been two weeks and still there was no reply to their emergency beacons. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, but knew it was no consolation. If only he could find a way out for them, if only he could calculate an escape route that had more then a 25% survival chance.

Griffin breathed in and slowly let the air out. “Take a break Charlie. Come with me to grab a bit to eat and we’ll visit the infirmary. The soldiers will be glad to see you.”

Charlie nodded and got up, even he could guess that the other man needed company now; to distract him if nothing else. “How was the latest mission, didn’t you just return from one with Krythan?”

“Yeah,” the older man put a supporting hand around the mathematician’s back when Charlie started listing to the side. “It went well. We took back the supply depot and retrieved one of us. It seems Kilcare’s unit has been holding it since when the enemy first broke in. We pulled their youngest member, Jessica, out today.” Griffin’s voice was flat again. “It seems she was the last as well. She’s currently in the infirmary now, trying to recover. Her team’s gone, too, though.”

Charlie closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Griffin shrugged, the movement almost enough to dislodge the younger man’s exhausted body from his side. “I don’t know what’s worse: losing your whole team or losing the one person who meant everything to you.”

Charlie swallowed. “Moyne?”

The Sergeant sighed. “He’s still catatonic. She meant everything to him…and she died in his arms. I didn’t…”

There were a lot of regrets and hopelessness floating around these days. None of them knew if they were going to make it out alive. “We have to have faith Griffin.” Charlie reminded the other man, as well as himself. They couldn’t die, he couldn’t. His parents didn’t even know where he was, Susan thought he was at an interactive conference, and the last contact he had from Don was a postcard saying: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Charlie. Don’t study too hard okay?

Two lines. That couldn’t be the last time he ever heard from his brother; it couldn’t.

“Faith.” Griffin snorted. “I don’t believe in God, Charlie. If there was a God, you think he’d let this happen? Let us be sitting ducks while the enemy picked us off?”

“Griffin…”

“No, if I ever believed in a God, he died today when Lilah breathed her last and she wasn’t even able to speak with her boy one last time. She was supposed to be married in two months, you know?” The Sergeant’s voice didn’t crack but his eyes were very bright. “She had it all planned out. She was going to take leave and they were going to run Vegas for a shotgun wedding, none of that frilly lace and flowers business her family keeps insisting.”

“Griffin…”

“God died when he let Moyne’s beloved die in his arms before he could even gather the courage to confess that she was the most beautiful thing his world. We’d been egging him on for years. He was going to crack soon.” Charlie watched with a leaden heart as the older man threw his head back and laughed, but there was no joy. “Well he did. Guess we didn’t know how close to the edge he was, huh?”

And there in the empty scorch marked hallway the sturdy, confident soldier slid to his knees, taking Charlie with him. The mathematician wrapped his arms around the man and held him tight. “We’ll make it Griffin. We’ll make it out of this. We’re going to make their lives count.”

The Sergeant buried his face in the frail shoulder. “You make it Charlie. You make it out of this alive, and I’ll believe there’s something worth living for still.” That was all the Company was living for anymore. The soldiers had joined the military, agreeing to die for their country. They didn’t want to die, but they had known they could. But Charlie was different; he was a consultant, a civilian. There were so many things he still had left to give to the world; so much knowledge for him to pass on to the next up-and-coming generation. Heck, he was the up-and-coming generation. Charlie was so young, and brilliant, and even if the whole Company was going to die in the process, they were going to get him out of this alive.

. : - : .

Don walked out of the escalator on Tuesday morning to see the sight of Megan compiling stacks of papers for their Army liaison. The Captain was stood silently as the tight-lipped Megan handed over more files.

“Hey.” Don said, stopping next to the bullpen, “What’s going on?”

“I’m here to collect all the files pertaining to the case of Gregory Williamson and Victor Helm.” Captain Philip Wren informed him.

“I can see that,” Don replied, eyeing the bulk of paper work in the other man’s hands. The Lead Agent looked at his behavior analyst for an explanation.

“We’re passing the case.” Megan said flatly. “The higher ups decided that the military are going to look into the case themselves and we’ve been instructed to give up all assembled information to the Captain and step off the investigation.”

“Whoa.” Don cut in, “Wait. Stop. Hold on a minute.” He turned back to the Captain. “You’re taking my case?”

“We’ve recently been notified that one of your team members have enquired about the past military records of the soldiers.” Wren replied steadily. “You’re sending out unnecessary flags. If you keep investigating in this method it will draw attention to Williamson and Helm, and give them unwarranted suspicion.”

“We’re not trying to hurt anybody.” Don said.

“Be as that may,” The Captain replied, “Enquiring about them will have people questioning why they are being investigated. Rumors would start, and you could ruin their careers Agent.”

Don stared straight back at the man. “I’m sorry if that’s the impression some people got, but we’re just doing our job.”

“Well it’s not your job anymore.” Captain Wren said steadily. “Due to recent events it has been brought to our attention that this will be a military investigation after all.”

“Williamson and Helm are on leave.” Don retorted. “Urban area and civilian investigation go to the federal bureau.”

Philip Wren’s green eyes were hard. “Recent information that has arisen marks this as a military case. I’m sorry Agent.”

But not sorry enough to give back the case, Megan quickly intervened between the two men. “We’ve been ordered off the case Don.”

“No way am I just giving this up.” Don argued, “Williamson came to visit Charlie. That’s my younger brother we’re talking about.”

Some of the ice left the military man’s shoulders. “Isn’t that another reason to let go of the case? You’re not totally impartial.”

“Look here.” Don stated fiercely, “I don’t know what you know or suddenly what your superiors know but your man brought danger to my family. And I’m not just going to let you take all the time and work we’ve put into this case and walk away with it, without even letting us know what the hell’s going on. I don’t know you and to hell if I’m going to put my brother’s safety in your impartial hands.”

Wren’s voice was frosty. “That’s right. You don’t know me. So don’t presume to know what I’m going to do.” He then turned and stride away.

“Don.” Megan placed a hand on her superior’s arm, stopping him from continuing the argument as the army captain walked out.

“Damn it.” Don said under his breath.

“Eppes.” Don looked up to see his boss standing the doorway of his office, motioning for the Lead Agent. “I want to see you.”

“Great.” Don sighed, “Just what I need.”

Megan gave a smile and patted him soothingly.

“Did you just let them take away my case?” Don questioned when he closed the door behind him.

“Never mind that,” Merrick said, “I have a different case for you.”

“That case impacts Charlie, Merrick.” Don had to try and fight it, “My brother could be in danger.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Merrick replied flatly, “but orders are orders and there’s nothing we can do about it Don.”

Don took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know. Damn it. It’s just…frustrating.”

“I know Don.” Merrick repeated, “But there’s another reason I wanted to talk to you.”

Don sat down in the chair opposite of his boss, waiting for the details. Merrick was grave as he stared at his best Agent. “We got an internal alert. One of the Agents working at the Senate reported in. We got reason to believe that one or more nuclear weapon or the means of one is somewhere in the country, either travelling or hidden.” He nodded at Don’s sharp look, “We don’t know where yet. All the major departments have been alerted. We’re to try and investigate without sending out flags. We don’t know if it’s near us.”

“But we can’t be sure.” Don said.

“No,” Merrick acquiesced, “we can’t. We don’t have any leads yet. This is the case I want you on.” Merrick told him, pushing a folder across the table. “Take another case, one that’s not urgent so people won’t get curious. But until something pans out, this is your priority.”

Don nodded and got up.

“It could be good timing for the military to take the other case off your hands now,” Merrick commented as he walked Don out of this office, “this way no one will ask.”

“Right.” Don muttered, not entirely convinced.

. : - : .

“x.” Charlie wrote in front of the blackboard, a tendril of warmth curling through his body with every line drawn on the surface. The first summer back and gazing wide eyed around the debriefing room, reaching out to touch the newly installed equipment and the boxes of chalk and erasers sitting casually on the ledge. Years later his chest still felt tight whenever he entered and he absorbed the sight. “The independent variable: the variable which remains unchanged by the other variable. A variable with values that are not problematical in an analysis but are taken as simply given. It is presumed to cause or determine a dependent variable.” Charlie bit his lips to keep from grinning, “Rephrased, it’s a variable which refuses to take advice.”

A smile tugged on Vahn’s lips.

Krythan mock glared. “Are you trying to say something baby boy?”

Charlie smiled. “Of course not, but it’s your designation: n is Vahn, any and every relevant term, and you are x, the independent variable which changes others but your function remains unchanged.”

Krythan stood up and prowled close, “and that last wasn’t a job at my temperament?”

Charlie swallowed at her nearness, “Only about as stubborn as I am.” He whispered.

Amusement flashed in vivid blue eyes, “c. The constant.” She murmured. “That’s mighty stubborn Charlie.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, “I know.”

. : - : .

“There’s someone waiting to see you, Mr. Iverson.” His secretary said, knocking on his door minutes right before closing hour.

James looked up from the paper work, “Do they have an appointment?”

“No,” his secretary replied, “But she said you would probably see her, or she is willing to wait.”

“Alright, send her in.” The ex military man stood up, wondering who it could be. When his secretary walked out and a new woman, shapely and in her twenties, replaced her in his door, he breathed sharply. “Jessica.” He quickly stepped out from behind the table, opening his arms. The younger brunette woman walked straight into his arms where he enfolded her. “Jesus. Jessica. I’m so sorry. I heard about Griffin.”

“Another one of us in the ground Iverson,” Jessica said muffled.

The older man held her tight. “I know Cale, I know.”

They stood there in silence for a long moment before James slowly released the hug. Jessica clung on for a second longer before stepping back. “Thank you.” She murmured, blinking bright eyes.

“You got here fast.” James remarked. “What are you up to these days?”

“I work for the NSA.” Jessica told him, “but I was already on my way when the message came.”

James’s eyebrows went up.

“I was coming to see Charlie.” She said, “I thought it was time we talked about some things.”

“Anything really important?” James questioned.

“Not to the rest of you.” Jessica said with a smile. “Just something between the two of us.”

“Alright.” James nodded, not prying. “Has anyone else contacted you?”

Jessica shook her head, “No. No one else arrived yet?”

“Williamson and Helm arrived a week ago, other then them you’re the first except for those of us already in the city.” James told her.

Jessica looked out the window. “Do you think they’re all coming?”

“I can’t think why not.” James replied, “Unless they’re on other missions or circumstances won’t let them. We can wait.”

“Can we?” Jessica whispered. They had already lost a team member.

James squeezed her shoulder in support. “We can check in, but it doesn’t mean we’ll say no to those who’ll arrive later.”

It was the first time after half a decade that they received an order from their Company Commander. Those of them, who could answer, would answer.