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munchkinTitle: Desolation
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
munchkinofdoom
Characters/Pairings: Don/David, Charlie/Amita, Megan/Larry, Don/Charlie (non-con). Colby, Nikki, Alan, Millie.
Rating/Category: R. Het/Slash
Word-count 7750
Spoilers: None
Summary: Death has touched the Eppes family and Don is ill-equipped to protect Charlie from the aftermath
Warnings: 1st Person POV, unreliable narrator, supernatural themes, 19th century western opinions concerning race, religion, gender and mental illness. Highlight to see plot-specific warnings - death of multiple canon characters, non-consensual incest, attempted murder, suicide, no happy ending.
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its characters are the property of CBS. No money is being made from this fanfic.
Notes: Thank you tofredbassett for the beta and hand-holding. *smooches*
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
April 14th, 1890
The Eppes household was in an uproar as our father and Millie, our housekeeper, packed for the three day rail journey that was to take them and Amita from New York to San Francisco. I can still see it clearly in my mind – our father busily packing clothes into his traveling case while Millie just as busily removed and replaced them with clothing more suited to a retired gentleman who was about to meet his son's future in-laws. Charlie's voice carried over all of this, instructing our father on places to see and people to meet, as well as where to find the port where Amita's parents were due to disembark from India.
Our father just shook his head ruefully, smiling secretly at me as he shared the joke. He had traveled through much of California in his youth, as a builder and town planner, and had often said how fond he was of San Francisco.
But we understood that Charlie's excitement and nerves required an outlet, so we were happy to humor him. His wedding to Amita was only three weeks away and his future parents-in-law were due to join us in New York in less than two weeks.
"You will come straight back, won't you, dad?" Charlie asked anxiously.
"Yes, Charlie. No showing the Ramanujans around San Francisco. Millie and I will catch the very next train back. You won't be left to deal with the rabbi and all the other wedding arrangements. I promise."
"You can stay a day or so, really. Just don't stay much longer," Charlie answered, his tone grudging. I couldn't help but smile. For such a brilliant mind, so valued by the academic community, Charlie had never coped well with uncertainty or change.
"You could always come with us, Charlie."
My brother's eyes widened and, for a moment, it appeared that he was considering it. Then he sighed and shook his head, his curls bouncing wildly as they bobbed around his face. He was cultivating what Amita termed a Byronic look; one that she assured us wasn't at odds with his professorship.
"No, no," Charlie said regretfully. "We were lucky that the university was able to give Amita these three weeks before the wedding. And it's too late to ask for leave now, anyway."
I smiled and ruffled his curls, laughing as he tried to duck out from under my hand. "You'll be on your honeymoon soon enough, little brother."
That thought cheered him, and he returned my smile. "Three weeks. I can do that. This is my wedding, too, after all. It shouldn't all fall to Amita to organize."
"Or me," our father muttered.
With that, we returned to the task of seeing our father and Millie out into the carriage that was waiting and off to the railway station. They had a train to catch.
* * * * *
The station was bustling with people of all colors and stations in life, coming and going, but even amongst the cosmopolitan crowd, Amita stood out as a vision of beauty, her long dark curls fastened to cascade down her back and her face radiant as she caught sight of Charlie. My brother's face lit up in return. It was obvious to everyone in the vicinity that the two were desperately in love.
"The sooner we get those two married, the better," David's beloved voice sounded from behind me, and I turned to grin warmly at him, greeting his niece Nikki and our investigator, Lieutenant Colby Granger, as I did so.
David and I had been partners in our law practice for almost ten years by now, but we had been lovers for longer. Since meeting at university, in fact, although it had taken me until after our graduation to get up the courage to introduce him to my father.
Our father had merely shaken his head good naturedly and admitted that he'd always known that it would have to fall to Charlie to provide him with grandchildren. David and I had been together ever since, basking in my family's approval, even if New York had been slower to accept us. But we had done well, well enough at least to send David's orphaned niece to college before taking her on as our law clerk. We'd had hopes that Nikki would have been admitted to the bar by now, but New York – even at this late stage, only ten years away from a new century – had been notoriously slow to admit women, let alone a colored woman.
"I don't know how Charlie's going to survive the next few weeks," I confided, taking advantage of the noise around us to lean closer to David. "I fully intend to foist him onto Larry and Megan as much as possible."
"Seems reasonable," answered David, "Since it was due to them that Charlie and Amita met. Of all the treasures that they might have brought back on their travels, I hadn't expected them to play mentor to an enchanting young mathematician."
"I expect Megan was responsible for that. No parent in their right mind would have entrusted their daughter to Larry, despite his academic achievements."
David nodded. "Megan is definitely the one with the common sense in that pair. A physician and a physicist trekking through Asia and India, in pursuit of enlightenment? Only Larry would have considered that a perfect way to spend his sabbaticals."
I shrugged wryly; I couldn't help but agree with David. Larry was a dear friend, but I had always been bemused by how fascinated he was by the spiritual, considering his occupation. Far more fascinated that I was, having been raised in a non-observing Jewish family.
Nikki stepped forward and around us, hugging Amita affectionately before earnestly asking her if she had her ticket and if she wanted for anything. I smiled, seeing David echo my expression. The two young women had become best friends after a rocky start, despite the fact that they had a university education in common. Nikki's pragmatism had clashed with Amita's love of the theoretical, and we had despaired for a while that they would ever overcome their competitiveness – but they had become united against us males, quickly drawing Megan, for all her greater age and experience, into their games. Soon, three distinct groups, the academic, the legal and the Eppes family in the middle of it all, had combined to become one large family. And now Amita and Charlie were to make it official.
"Ah, here everyone is!" Larry's voice carried as he hurried to join our little group, Megan smiling fondly at her husband as she trailed behind him at a leisurely pace. They had plenty of time before the train left, despite Larry's excitement, and Megan knew it.
She walked up to where David and I stood, greeting us with a smile, and said, "I was tempted to give him a sleeping draught last night, just to get some peace."
"Charlie was just as bad," our father added, hearing Megan's words.
"A cross-country train trip is no small matter," Larry said, "Even for those who have crossed oceans to come to America. Ah," he exclaimed, "That reminds me. Amita, I have your throw. You left it in the carriage."
The young woman turned to speak to her mentor, her smile cheerful. "We have a sleeper, Larry. I'm sure we will be comfortable enough."
"Better to be safe than sorry, my dear," he said, handing over the embroidered wrap.
Amita took it and just smiled fondly at him, an expression we were used to seeing on the faces of the people in Larry's circle. Then the train, beside which we stood, blew its whistle and conversation descended into fragmented sentences as we rushed to get our father, Amita and Millie settled comfortably in their carriage.
Finally, as the train pulled away, we waved them goodbye, gently teasing Charlie as his face went from excited to forlorn with barely a pause between. I sighed as I turned for one last look at the departing train, feeling, for a moment, a quiet concern that I could not explain.
Then I shrugged off the small misgiving, smiled at David as he tenderly placed his hand on my arm for a moment in reassurance, and then we were away. We had many things to do that day, and so I quickly forgot that brief foreboding.
I can only wish now that I had not shrugged off that sense of doom. Although I know that I could have done nothing to change what was to happen, I can not help but wonder what might have happened to our lives if I had acted on my premonition.
* * * * *
April 15th, 1890
I stopped at our front door and turned as I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I waited for David to join me, then pulled him into my arms for one last kiss before we left for the day ahead.
We were both tired from the night before. In an effort to stop Charlie's natural tendency to concentrate on a concern to the exclusion of all else, everyone had gathered at the Fleinhardt residence for dinner and an evening of conversation. It had been rowdy and cheerful, as our gatherings often were, and we had returned to our own home in the early hours of the morning. But it had been well worth it, watching my brother tiredly, but cheerfully, head up to a temporary bed in Larry and Megan's care, where they hoped to keep him distracted until our father returned in a week's time.
"Let me get my coat and I'll join you," David said, finally releasing me with one last kiss. Then we turned in unison and smiled at Nikki as she hurried lightly down the stairs to join us.
"One last kiss before work?" she said, grinning. "I can't believe, after all these years, that I am still catching you both canoodling at the slightest opportunity."
David just fondly shook his head at her as I turned to open our front door, only to be surprised by the sound of an urgent knocking. Colby strode into our foyer after I opened the door for him, his face concerned, and he held a newspaper in his hand.
"Don," he said, his voice grave, and my misgivings of the previous day returned. "I'm glad I caught you at home. There's been an accident."
Nikki gasped, and I felt my heart stop for a moment before I felt it pounding in my chest. David reached out with one hand, stroking my arm in comfort, and I spared a quick glance at him before returning my attention to Colby.
"The train went off the Rock Island Bridge early this morning, taking all its carriages with it." He looked at me sadly, and then he continued. "It looks bad. They are still pulling bodies out further down-river. News is slow coming, but the number of survivors is expected to be low."
"My God," David muttered as he wrapped his arm around me, glancing back over his shoulder at the sound of Nikki's sob. A sound that I barely registered as my mind had gone numb. And then one thought crept to the surface of my brain: Charlie.
"This is in all the newspapers?" I asked.
Colby nodded.
"Charlie can't see this without any warning," I said firmly, forcing my own burgeoning grief aside as concern for my brother took over. "Colby, see what you can find out from the rail company. I have to see Charlie before he leaves for the university. He can't be allowed to stumble into this."
Colby nodded and headed quickly out onto the street while I got my coat. David was beside me, reaching for his own, and I turned blindly to him, suddenly stunned by what had happened. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, and I pressed my face into his shoulder and shuddered. Then I stepped away, took a deep breath, and tried to meet David's concerned gaze squarely. Then, before the rising grief could take hold of me, I opened the door and was on my way.
I knew, for all my own pain at the thought of what might have happened to our father, that Charlie needed me.
* * * * *
April 16th, 1890
The day was dull and gray as Larry and I waited to board the train to take us to Davenport, where we were to identify our loved ones. Charlie's face was pale and drawn, his expression distracted as he stared at the locomotive as if he didn't recognize what was in front of him. Megan stayed close to him and placed her arm around his shoulders as Larry and I prepared to board.
"No, you can't get on that," Charlie begged, his eyes sudden bright and intent, almost crazed, as he shrugged off Megan's embrace and caught my arm.
"Charlie, it's safe," Megan promised as she and David each gently took hold of an arm.
"How can you say that?" demanded Charlie, turning on them, struggling as David's hold tightened.
My heart was breaking but I had to leave. I had to bring our father and Amita home. "Charlie," I said as I stepped down from the train and took him in my arms. "I'll be home soon, I promise."
"You can't promise that. No-one can promise that, or dad and Amita would be alive now!"
"Go," Megan whispered to me as the train's whistle sounded and David took Charlie from me. "I'll take care of him, go."
"Don," Larry said as he also stepped down from the carriage and placed a hand on my arm, "Charlie's in good hands. Come."
My eyes filled with tears as I turned and boarded the train again, hearing Charlie's protests becoming more frantic as the carriage door was closed by a conductor and we took our seats.
My last view of Charlie, as the train pulled out, was of Megan and David leading him away as he frantically craned his head to follow the train's progress. Then Larry gently patted my arm again in reassurance and I blinked away tears. I knew that the next time I saw this station I would be escorting the remains of our loved ones.
* * * * *
April 18th, 1890
The days passed as if in slow motion as Larry and I waited for the authorities to release the bodies pulled from the river, hoping against hope that my father, Amita and Millie would actually be found alive in one of the hospitals, injured but safe. Amita's parents arrived by rail as we waited, and it broke my heart to see them greet Larry, their eyes showing the despair we all felt when we were unable to give them a shred of good news.
And so we all waited. Four days it took, before we were able to take our loved ones' remains home. And that presented another problem, one that I hadn't foreseen, although Larry, with his greater experience of the world, had.
Tapti and Sanjay Ramanujan were devout Hindus and it was their wish that Amita be cremated and her ashes accompany them home for the proper funeral rites.
My heart stopped at this: the thought that Amita would not lie with Charlie's and my parents hadn't even occurred to me, and I knew that, if I was shocked, Charlie would be devastated. I can only be grateful that Larry had rightly guessed my thoughts and had taken me aside before I could say something unforgivable and add to the Ramaujans' grief.
Finally, Larry and I watched as Mr and Mrs Ramanujan were ferried across the Mississippi with Amita's remains, where they would take the train back to San Francisco and then on to a ship bound for their home. Their stay in our country had been short and devastating, and my heart bled for them, even as I grieved the loss of my father.
But we couldn't stay and watch their passage; we had our own train to catch, with our own burden. We joined Millie's son to supervise our lost loved ones being safely stowed, and made our way back home to New York.
I looked at Larry as we took our seats on the train, waiting for it to pull out of Davenport on its return trip, and dreaded returning home, knowing that Charlie was waiting.
* * * * *
April 23rd, 1890
Charlie, David and Megan were waiting for us as the train pulled into Central Station. My heart clenched in my chest at how pale and drawn my brother's face was.
"It's bad now," Larry said, startling me. I'd forgotten he was there. "We got Charlie through the loss of your mother and we'll get him, and you, through this."
"Maybe. But both our father and Amita? I think this is going to be too much for him." I sighed, stepped down from the carriage, and steeled myself for what was to come.
Charlie pulled free of Megan's grasp and rushed toward me. He stopped a few steps away, looked long at me, and then hugged me. His grasp was gentle, with no sign of the frenzied grief I had expected, and I felt tears well in my eyes. I squeezed them shut tight and returned my brother's embrace, only releasing him when David approached. I went into his arms, not caring what anyone else might think, and buried my face in his jacket, holding on for all I was worth. Then, finally, I pulled back and turned to face Charlie again.
"Our father's coffin is in the final carriage," I said gently. It was time to face what I had been dreading.
Charlie nodded absently and walked with me in the direction of the carriage, and I could see a number of pallets waiting nearby. Charlie frowned, but I knew that there were many other victims of the derailment who were being returned home along with Millie and our father.
"Mr Eppes," a solemn gentleman approached us and introduced himself as a member of the chevrah kadisha, the burial society which would care for our father until his burial.
"Thank you for meeting us here," I said, relieved that our father would be properly cared for after the horrors of the accident and the city mortuary.
We approached the carriage concerned and waited our turn, and then I presented the papers that would release our father into our custody. It hurt to see the simple box as it was loaded onto a pallet, knowing our father lay within, but I knew worse was to come when Charlie noticed that there wasn't a second coffin.
"Don, where's Amita?" he asked. Then he looked at me, hope growing in his eyes. "She’s alive? Tell me she’s alive!"
Larry wrapped one arm around Charlie and pulled him close. "Amita's parents are taking her home to India for a proper Hindu funeral."
"No," protested Charlie. "Amita should rest with our parents. How are we to visit her if she's so far away? Our wedding is in two weeks, she should be here with me."
"Her ashes should be returned to the place of her birth, and the proper funeral rites performed, Charlie," Larry continued, his voice gentle.
Charlie gasped. "Ashes? She's to be cremated?"
Larry nodded. "It is their way." Then he was forced to tighten his hold on my brother as Charlie's face paled even further and his knees gave way. I rushed forward and supported him as he looked up at me in shock.
"Don?"
"Hush," I whispered. "Let's get you home."
David took Charlie's other arm and we supported him as our father's coffin was taken from the station, loaded into a horse-drawn hearse and taken away. Charlie moaned, his face pressed against my shirt, and I was hard-pressed to fight back the tears that welled in my eyes. I followed David's lead almost blindly, concerned only with Charlie, and let David get us settled into a coach.
Megan and Larry climbed in after us, and Megan leaned forward, pressing my hand in reassurance. "I'll give him something to help him sleep."
I nodded, tightened my embrace around Charlie's shoulders, and closed my eyes wearily. David's hand clasped mine and squeezed gently, and finally my tears slipped free.
* * * * *
May 9th, 1890
I lay wakeful in my bed, listening to the quiet, desolate sounds of the house that I had grown up in. A house that had, less than a month ago, been a home filled with the expectations of a bright future, but was now becoming my brother's prison.
This was not where I wanted to be, or where I had expected to be. I had known that Charlie would need me, but had thought that he would stay with Larry and Megan, under Megan's capable supervision, and that I would be safe and secure in David's arms.
But it was not to be. Charlie had refused to leave our family home, saying he could feel the presence of our father and Amita in the quiet moments, and that he could not abandon them. We had tried to persuade him, but he wouldn't have it, and so we had let him return to his room and his office full of books and work-boards.
When Larry and Megan had offered instead to stay with him, Charlie had refused, saying that their presence would be disruptive to the memory of Amita and our father, and we had been forced to back down. So I had moved back home, returning to my childhood room and watching helplessly as Charlie's behavior became more and more eccentric.
His work seemed to comfort him, even though Larry had expressed dismay when he had visited Charlie in his domain. The equations had, in Larry's words, taken flights of fancy that walked the fine line between the workings of a genius and the ravings of a lunatic, and Larry had then broached the delicate subject of Charlie's state of mind.
But Larry didn't know the full extent of Charlie's condition. Because every night, for the past two weeks since our father had been buried, Charlie's sleep had been torn apart by nightmares of our father struggling to save himself from a submerged train compartment, of Amita's voice calling softly in his dreams to save her from the water.
So I knew, as the hours passed slowly, that Charlie's screams would soon begin again and I would get up and go to him, taking him in my arms and soothing him as his bright, crazed eyes would frantically search out the dark corners of his bedroom.
I closed my eyes, hoping against hope that this would be the first night that Charlie's rest would be undisturbed. I breathed softly, slowly, desperately missing the solid feel of David's arms around me, and prayed that tonight Charlie would begin to heal.
Then a scream echoed through the silent, almost empty house. It wailed as I threw off my bedclothes and left my bed. I was out and into the hall when it finally stopped, but I knew the respite would be brief. Then the wail began again, this time calling my name, and I threw open the door to my brother's room to find him sitting up in the pale light of the fire I kept banked for him, his face tight with terror as he searched his bedroom for whatever it was that haunted him in his dreams.
"Charlie, hush," I crooned as I crawled into bed with him and took him in my arms. His body shivered and he called my name again as if he didn't know I was there with him. Then he turned in my arms and looked up at me, his eyes bright with fear.
"Did you see her?"
"See who, Charlie?"
"Amita," he whispered. "Amita was here."
"No, Charlie," I reassured him, rocking him gently in my arms as I spoke. "Amita's parents are taking her home."
"This is her home." Charlie's trembling began to ease and his eyelids dipped. He relaxed into my embrace, giving the room one last inspection before trusting himself to my protection. "Do you think she is at peace, Don?"
I rested my chin on his curls and continued to rock him gently in my arms. "I'm sure she is, Charlie. She was loved – how could she not be at peace?"
Charlie just sighed and we were silent for a long time. I hoped that he would go back to sleep and perhaps not dream again tonight, but then he spoke again, his voice low as if revealing a secret. "It was our wedding day today."
I hugged him tighter and pressed my face into his curls, feeling a sharp pain for what might have been, for the life my brother should have had.
"I don't think Amita is at peace," Charlie confided, his voice almost inaudible.
"Hush, hush," I whispered, my eyes prickling with tears. "Don't say that."
"She visits me. I wake every night to find her beside me, stroking my face in comfort, and for a moment I forget she's dead. Then I remember and cry out and she's gone. Where does she go, Don?"
I choked back tears, feeling them burn in the back of my throat as I tried not to let Charlie know my distress. I swallowed again and tried to speak. "You were dreaming."
Charlie sighed again. "I think I'm going mad. Is this to be my existence, living only for the touch of my dead love in the dark of night?"
There was nothing I could say to that, and my tears fell soft and silent onto his curls as I held him and waited for him to succumb to sleep again. Finally, his body grew heavy and his breathing even and I lay down with him, pulling the covers up over us. I closed my eyes, hoping that I would be able to snatch a few hours of sleep myself before the sun rose and we had to be up and about.
But like before, the hours passed slowly and I slept little, fearing for the return of Charlie's nightmares, knowing that only my vigilance kept them at bay. Finally the dawn broke, light streaming into Charlie's room, and I woke him as I had done on so many of the past mornings.
Charlie blinked, briefly hugged me, and climbed out of bed to start his day. I yawned, stretched my tired body, and followed him.
* * * * *
May 12th, 1890
The day seemed to go on forever, like the others before it, but I dreaded its end, knowing what was inevitable when nightfall returned.
I blinked tiredly. The document I was attempting to read blurred in front of me and the words and letters fragmented into gibberish.
"Hey." David knelt down beside my desk and looked at me, his expression appraising. I hadn't heard him return to our office, and I looked up to see that he had closed the door behind him. "It's all right," he murmured. "Colby and Nikki are watching the front office and we have no more appointments for the day."
He pulled me to my feet and I went willingly, stepping gratefully into his embrace. "I've missed this," I said, wrapping my arms around him.
"Me too. How's Charlie? Larry and Megan are worried about him. And I'm worried about you."
I sighed, pulling back so that I could see David's dear face. "He has nightmares every night. He says he sees Amita," I confided.
David nodded and then pressed his forehead softly against mine. We stayed like that for a long moment, our eyes closed, just basking in each other's touch. Then David spoke quietly, "This can't go on, love. You're exhausted."
"I know," I whispered, sighing as I felt my eyes prickle with tears again. It was a measure of my state that I was brought to tears so easily. "I'll talk to Charlie tonight. But I can't leave him alone in that house."
"Talk to Megan. Neither of you can go on like this, Don."
I pulled back and met David's gaze. "I know. But he has refused to stay with Larry and Megan, and doesn't like anyone else in the house. He says it distresses Amita." I sighed and dropped my head to David's shoulder, blinking back tears again as he wrapped me tight in his arms.
David's embrace tightened and he whispered into my ear, "I'm not sure Charlie is in any condition to say what he wants any more – not if he thinks Amita is in the house."
"I know," I repeated. "I'll talk to him tonight. If he won't see sense, then I'll talk to Megan."
"I'm so sorry, Don," David said, and he tucked my head into the crook of his neck as I finally began to sob.
* * * * *
"Don!" Charlie called urgently as I closed the door behind me and removed my coat. He flew down the stairs, his speed dangerous, and I caught him as reached the bottom step.
"Slow down," I warned, steadying him on his feet.
Charlie frowned and shook off my grip, "You're late. I need you to ask Larry something for me."
"I can invite him over tomorrow if you'd like."
"No, no," said Charlie with annoyance. "I think he distresses Amita, and I won't have that. Especially since I think it is my fault she's caught here anyway."
Charlie's meanderings confused me and I was almost afraid to ask him to explain himself. "What do you mean?"
Charlie turned and walked into the dining room, and I noticed how the table, which had been clear that morning, was now covered with notebooks and sheets of paper, all scrawled with arcane mathematical symbols that I had no hope of understanding. "Charlie?"
"Larry knows far more about the Hindu faith than I do," Charlie said absently as he separated a large sheet of paper from the others and studied it. "Amita and I are engaged and about to be married. Considering how long she has lived in America and acclimatized to our way of life, and taking into account the timing and manner of her death, I am beginning to think her love for me has trapped her soul somewhere between the Hindu and Jewish afterlives."
"What?" His words didn't make sense. "Charlie, no!"
"Why else does she visit me if it isn't because she loves me? I've trapped her here and I have to find a way to release her. I need Larry to find out if there are any Hindu rites that must be carried out." Then he paused. "It might be a good idea to talk to the rabbi too."
"Charlie, no. Amita isn't haunting you; it's only your nightmares."
Charlie turned on me, his face flushed with anger. "If you can't help me, then don't say anything. Just find Larry for me."
I backed away from him, actually frightened of Charlie for a moment. I'd never seen him enraged before, even during the many fights of our youth. I needed to get out of this place, get some air.
I held up my hands placatingly. "All right, Charlie. I'll go and get Larry." Then I turned and fled.
* * * * *
"Don?" Larry asked with concern as he opened the door for me. For all that it was a warm spring evening, I was chilled to the bone and trying not to shiver with reaction. "Come in, come in."
Megan appeared as Larry took my coat, took one look at my appearance, and led me into a sitting room where she fetched brandy. They left me to recover my composure as Larry set about lighting a fire in the grate. Then they took seats beside me and waited for me to speak.
"Charlie is talking nonsense," I began. "He's convinced that Amita's love for him has tied her to him, barring her from both the Hindu and Jewish afterlife." I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "I told him that he's only seeing Amita in his nightmares and he became angry. I've never seen him like this."
Megan reached over and took my hand. "You did the right thing coming to us."
"He demanded I fetch Larry. He thinks you might know what rites will allow Amita to move on," I said, turning to Larry as I did so. "He also talked about fetching a rabbi. The dining room is covered in strange equations. I don't understand what is happening."
"Is Charlie a danger to himself?" asked Megan, squeezing my hand. "Or to you?"
"No! No… I don't know. Megan, I don't know," I whispered.
"Go home to David tonight, let Charlie work through whatever his mind is full of right now and we'll go to him together in the morning."
I shook my head. "Megan, I can't leave him alone with his nightmares. Don't ask me that."
"Then let us come with you," offered Larry.
I shook my head again, fighting tears. I was so tired and wanted, more than anything, to leave Charlie to their care. But he was the only family I had left.
"It's all right," Megan said, squeezing my hand again. "I won't push you to do anything you don't want to do. Just stay here and have dinner with us, rest awhile, and then go home. Give Charlie time to tire and go to bed."
I nodded, unable to find the strength to argue any more.
"Rest now," Megan said. She stood, fetched a throw and had me lie down on the couch. "We'll fetch you when dinner is ready."
Then she covered me, turned off the lights, and they left me alone in the sitting room with the fire burning softly in the fireplace.
* * * * *
The house was dark and quiet when I finally returned, late that night, and I sighed with relief. I crept silently up the stairs to my room, closed the door behind me, and was both touched and surprised to find a fire waiting for me in the grate.
My bed seemed lonely without David beside me, and I huddled under the bed-clothes, wishing desperately that I was not alone. I eventually closed my eyes, tried to calm my breathing, and prayed for a peaceful night without Charlie's screams.
Finally, I fell asleep. How long I dozed, I have no idea, but all I knew was that I was groggy and sleep-drunk when Charlie's cries rent the night air again. My heart pounded fearfully in my chest as I stumbled to my feet and made my way to my brother's bedroom.
Charlie's head turned toward me as I lurched toward him, his face more angry than frightened this time, and I froze. "Charlie?"
"Why is she doing this?" he demanded.
"Amita is gone," I said as I crawled into bed beside him, and he turned on me instead of seeking the safety of my embrace as he had done on the previous nights.
"I know that," he yelled, his eyes blazing. "I can see she isn't here now. Do you think I'm an idiot, Don?!"
"Charlie, you have to calm down," I said, taking hold of his hands as he waved them frantically as he spoke.
But Charlie fought me, one fist catching me in the face as he pulled his hand free of my grasp. "Make her stop!" he shouted. Then he paused and his eyes became shrewd. "Or I'll have to make her stop."
His words frightened me, and I pulled back as he regarded me with an expression that had become hard. But he followed me as I slid to the edge of his bed and placed one foot on the cold floor. Charlie shot out one arm and caught me by the wrist, and I pulled away instinctively, making us crash to the floor.
A cry of pain was forced from me as my head impacted with the cold, hard boards and I saw stars as Charlie's weight landing on my chest, forcing the air from my lunch.
"If Amita won't leave me, then I'll have to make her not love me anymore," Charlie hissed in my face as I shook my head in an effort to clear it.
Strong hands grasped my nightshirt and I heard material rip. I tried to roll to my side, knowing only that I had to force my brother off me, but the darkened room spun around me as my head swam. I groaned and collapsed onto my back again, only dimly aware of the cold night air on my thighs.
Then Charlie's weight was on top of me again, thrusting at me as he sobbed against my throat, muttering words that were unintelligible to me. His hands tried to force my thighs apart, but I fought him as best I could, leaving him no option but to use my groin and belly to sate himself.
Finally, his seed pulsed over my belly and Charlie slid against my chilled flesh, his sobs becoming hysterical as his climax abated. He collapsed on top of me and tucked his head against my throat again and cried as if his world was coming to an end.
I looked up at the dark ceiling above, numb and too exhausted to weep, and lay there until Charlie cried himself out and then pushed himself to his knees beside me. I felt hands try to make my nightshirt right but I couldn't bear to look at him. I closed my eyes at last, rolled onto my side away from him, and waited for the world to stop spinning. Eventually the world dimmed around me and I knew no more.
I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the room was quiet when I awoke. My head pounded with each breath I took, and I sat up with difficulty. The light from the fire, although banked, hurt my eyes and made me blink back tears.
My mind was blank, filled only with vague memories of cold and of Charlie weeping. I staggered unsteadily to my feet and my nightshirt flapped around my legs, the front of it ripped all the way up to my belly.
Charlie! I didn't understand what had happened, why Charlie had turned on me. All I knew was that my brother had attacked me, had used me. I stumbled as I turned around, wary of what he might do next. Then I spied him, tucked up in his bed as if nothing had happened.
I stood there, unsure of what to do. I took one tentative step toward the bed, not sure what I hoped to accomplish, and then took a closer look at my brother. His face was tear-stained and he was curled up tightly in his bedclothes, rocking himself gently in his sleep as if, even unconscious, he sought comfort.
I blinked and stumbled backward, away from the bed. I had no idea where to go, but I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I staggered out onto the landing and collapsed onto the top stair. Wrapping on hand tightly in the wooden spindles of the banister, I leaned my head tiredly against the polished wood and closed my eyes.
My brother was mad.
In the morning Megan and Larry would arrive, and Megan would see the state of the house, that I had gained injuries since she had last seen me, and she would send Charlie to an asylum. It was her duty as a physician, and Megan had never been anything less than capable.
I sighed and lowered my aching head into my hands. Charlie would fight them. Being admitted to a lunatic asylum might destroy his career, but even if it didn't, he might harm others when they tried to take him.
And Charlie, if he ever returned to his right mind, would never be able to bear that. I didn't know how he could ever cope with what he had done to me in his madness and fear.
Rubbing my burning eyes with the heels of my hands, I wished that David was here with me. Or better, that I was home in our bed and that none of this had ever happened. But it had and now I had to deal with it. Charlie was my brother and I had to save him – from himself if necessary.
But I had no idea how to go about doing that. I don't know how long I sat there in the dark and the cold, but eventually I rose slowly to my feet and found a lamp. Lighting it, I made my way down to the basement and stood amongst the detritus of our lives, not knowing what I was looking for, only knowing I'd recognize it when I saw it.
I rummaged through box after box until I came to an old chest. I lowered myself to the floor before it and lifted the lid. There, resting on top of a pile of old clothing, was an old wooden box. I held it in my hands and stared at it for a long moment before opening it. Nestled within was the revolver that our father had reluctantly carried with him during his travels so long ago.
I blinked back tears as I remembered the day that my father had removed the pistol case from its locked box and placed it in this chest, intending to dispose of it. Our mother had hated having it in the house, insisting that there had been no need for the weapon in a civilized city like New York. But the chest has made its way down here and no further.
I sighed. That was all past now. Both our mother and father were gone, and Charlie's life was in tatters. I had to make it right.
I loaded the revolver, dragged myself to my feet and made my way wearily back upstairs to Charlie's room. Finally, I stood over his bed and looked down at him. His face was pinched, even as he slept, and he continued to rock himself. Barely at the edge of my hearing he whispered quiet nonsense.
I placed the revolver on the bed beside him and crawled under the covers with my brother. My torn nightshirt caught between my thighs and I pulled it roughly into place before I sat up, gently lifted Charlie into my arms and rocked him as he grumbled and muttered.
Then he settled in my arms again, as he had so many nights before. I hid my face in his curls, wanting nothing more than to sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened, but I knew that Megan would be here in the morning and then it would be too late to free my poor, mad brother from his torment.
Settling Charlie more comfortably in my arms, I reached for the revolver. I held it in my hand, feeling its weight in my fingers. My hand began to shake and I lowered the weapon to the bedclothes again, feeling sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes and hugged Charlie to me, stilling and holding my breath as he muttered my name. Then he settled again.
I picked up the revolver again, determined to end this. Charlie needed me. I used the barrel to push aside the bedclothes that covered Charlie's chest and rested it against his nightshirt, pressing it over his heart. He muttered again, turning his head into my neck, and tears filled my eyes. I swallowed and placed my finger against the trigger. My hand shook again and I stilled it as best I could and tried to gently squeeze the trigger, but my finger refused to move.
I tried again and sobbed as I the realization came to me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. Tomorrow, they would come for him, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
"Don?" Charlie's voice was soft with sleep.
I sobbed as the revolver grew heavy in my hand and I began to lower it blindly to the bed again. But other hands caught it and returned the weapon to its position against Charlie's breast. I saw, through my tears, Charlie's face looking earnestly up at me.
"It's all right, Don," he whispered. "Send me to our parents and Amita. I can't bear this anymore."
"I can't…"
"I can help you," Charlie said, and his fingers wrapped around mine, sliding over them until one was pressed against the trigger. "Help me do this. Please, Don," he begged, his eyes clear for the first time in weeks.
"I can't," I wailed, blinded by my tears.
"Please," he whispered again, and his hands steadied the revolver in my grasp. I felt his fingers tighten and then a shot rang out, forcing me to scream in anguish.
Charlie's body fell limp in my arms. I threw the weapon across the room and screamed again as the harsh smell of gun powder filled my nose and lungs. I wailed as I rocked his poor, dead body against me. I wanted to die with him. I wanted to go back and throw the revolver in the river so that I could never have been tempted. I sobbed as I prayed desperately for the chance to go back and stop Amita and our father from ever boarding that cursed train.
But it was too late, all far too late to change anything now. Charlie was dead and I was bereft. I hugged his body to me, heedless of the blood that covered both of us, blind to the throbbing in my skull.
Until hands, as soft and insubstantial as gossamer, stroked my hair back from my fevered forehead and then lips kissed my temple. The touch was soothing, like my mother when I had been ill as a child.
I opened my eyes to find her regarding me, her eyes awash with tears that hung softly on the night air. The firelight barely touched her, passing through her as if she was translucent glass. She reached out one slender hand, as intangible as smoke, and gently stroked my cheek, wiping my tears away.
Amita.
I screamed.
The End
Author:
munchkinofdoomCharacters/Pairings: Don/David, Charlie/Amita, Megan/Larry, Don/Charlie (non-con). Colby, Nikki, Alan, Millie.
Rating/Category: R. Het/Slash
Word-count 7750
Spoilers: None
Summary: Death has touched the Eppes family and Don is ill-equipped to protect Charlie from the aftermath
Warnings: 1st Person POV, unreliable narrator, supernatural themes, 19th century western opinions concerning race, religion, gender and mental illness. Highlight to see plot-specific warnings - death of multiple canon characters, non-consensual incest, attempted murder, suicide, no happy ending.
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its characters are the property of CBS. No money is being made from this fanfic.
Notes: Thank you to
fredbassett for the beta and hand-holding. *smooches* This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at
numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!April 14th, 1890
The Eppes household was in an uproar as our father and Millie, our housekeeper, packed for the three day rail journey that was to take them and Amita from New York to San Francisco. I can still see it clearly in my mind – our father busily packing clothes into his traveling case while Millie just as busily removed and replaced them with clothing more suited to a retired gentleman who was about to meet his son's future in-laws. Charlie's voice carried over all of this, instructing our father on places to see and people to meet, as well as where to find the port where Amita's parents were due to disembark from India.
Our father just shook his head ruefully, smiling secretly at me as he shared the joke. He had traveled through much of California in his youth, as a builder and town planner, and had often said how fond he was of San Francisco.
But we understood that Charlie's excitement and nerves required an outlet, so we were happy to humor him. His wedding to Amita was only three weeks away and his future parents-in-law were due to join us in New York in less than two weeks.
"You will come straight back, won't you, dad?" Charlie asked anxiously.
"Yes, Charlie. No showing the Ramanujans around San Francisco. Millie and I will catch the very next train back. You won't be left to deal with the rabbi and all the other wedding arrangements. I promise."
"You can stay a day or so, really. Just don't stay much longer," Charlie answered, his tone grudging. I couldn't help but smile. For such a brilliant mind, so valued by the academic community, Charlie had never coped well with uncertainty or change.
"You could always come with us, Charlie."
My brother's eyes widened and, for a moment, it appeared that he was considering it. Then he sighed and shook his head, his curls bouncing wildly as they bobbed around his face. He was cultivating what Amita termed a Byronic look; one that she assured us wasn't at odds with his professorship.
"No, no," Charlie said regretfully. "We were lucky that the university was able to give Amita these three weeks before the wedding. And it's too late to ask for leave now, anyway."
I smiled and ruffled his curls, laughing as he tried to duck out from under my hand. "You'll be on your honeymoon soon enough, little brother."
That thought cheered him, and he returned my smile. "Three weeks. I can do that. This is my wedding, too, after all. It shouldn't all fall to Amita to organize."
"Or me," our father muttered.
With that, we returned to the task of seeing our father and Millie out into the carriage that was waiting and off to the railway station. They had a train to catch.
The station was bustling with people of all colors and stations in life, coming and going, but even amongst the cosmopolitan crowd, Amita stood out as a vision of beauty, her long dark curls fastened to cascade down her back and her face radiant as she caught sight of Charlie. My brother's face lit up in return. It was obvious to everyone in the vicinity that the two were desperately in love.
"The sooner we get those two married, the better," David's beloved voice sounded from behind me, and I turned to grin warmly at him, greeting his niece Nikki and our investigator, Lieutenant Colby Granger, as I did so.
David and I had been partners in our law practice for almost ten years by now, but we had been lovers for longer. Since meeting at university, in fact, although it had taken me until after our graduation to get up the courage to introduce him to my father.
Our father had merely shaken his head good naturedly and admitted that he'd always known that it would have to fall to Charlie to provide him with grandchildren. David and I had been together ever since, basking in my family's approval, even if New York had been slower to accept us. But we had done well, well enough at least to send David's orphaned niece to college before taking her on as our law clerk. We'd had hopes that Nikki would have been admitted to the bar by now, but New York – even at this late stage, only ten years away from a new century – had been notoriously slow to admit women, let alone a colored woman.
"I don't know how Charlie's going to survive the next few weeks," I confided, taking advantage of the noise around us to lean closer to David. "I fully intend to foist him onto Larry and Megan as much as possible."
"Seems reasonable," answered David, "Since it was due to them that Charlie and Amita met. Of all the treasures that they might have brought back on their travels, I hadn't expected them to play mentor to an enchanting young mathematician."
"I expect Megan was responsible for that. No parent in their right mind would have entrusted their daughter to Larry, despite his academic achievements."
David nodded. "Megan is definitely the one with the common sense in that pair. A physician and a physicist trekking through Asia and India, in pursuit of enlightenment? Only Larry would have considered that a perfect way to spend his sabbaticals."
I shrugged wryly; I couldn't help but agree with David. Larry was a dear friend, but I had always been bemused by how fascinated he was by the spiritual, considering his occupation. Far more fascinated that I was, having been raised in a non-observing Jewish family.
Nikki stepped forward and around us, hugging Amita affectionately before earnestly asking her if she had her ticket and if she wanted for anything. I smiled, seeing David echo my expression. The two young women had become best friends after a rocky start, despite the fact that they had a university education in common. Nikki's pragmatism had clashed with Amita's love of the theoretical, and we had despaired for a while that they would ever overcome their competitiveness – but they had become united against us males, quickly drawing Megan, for all her greater age and experience, into their games. Soon, three distinct groups, the academic, the legal and the Eppes family in the middle of it all, had combined to become one large family. And now Amita and Charlie were to make it official.
"Ah, here everyone is!" Larry's voice carried as he hurried to join our little group, Megan smiling fondly at her husband as she trailed behind him at a leisurely pace. They had plenty of time before the train left, despite Larry's excitement, and Megan knew it.
She walked up to where David and I stood, greeting us with a smile, and said, "I was tempted to give him a sleeping draught last night, just to get some peace."
"Charlie was just as bad," our father added, hearing Megan's words.
"A cross-country train trip is no small matter," Larry said, "Even for those who have crossed oceans to come to America. Ah," he exclaimed, "That reminds me. Amita, I have your throw. You left it in the carriage."
The young woman turned to speak to her mentor, her smile cheerful. "We have a sleeper, Larry. I'm sure we will be comfortable enough."
"Better to be safe than sorry, my dear," he said, handing over the embroidered wrap.
Amita took it and just smiled fondly at him, an expression we were used to seeing on the faces of the people in Larry's circle. Then the train, beside which we stood, blew its whistle and conversation descended into fragmented sentences as we rushed to get our father, Amita and Millie settled comfortably in their carriage.
Finally, as the train pulled away, we waved them goodbye, gently teasing Charlie as his face went from excited to forlorn with barely a pause between. I sighed as I turned for one last look at the departing train, feeling, for a moment, a quiet concern that I could not explain.
Then I shrugged off the small misgiving, smiled at David as he tenderly placed his hand on my arm for a moment in reassurance, and then we were away. We had many things to do that day, and so I quickly forgot that brief foreboding.
I can only wish now that I had not shrugged off that sense of doom. Although I know that I could have done nothing to change what was to happen, I can not help but wonder what might have happened to our lives if I had acted on my premonition.
April 15th, 1890
I stopped at our front door and turned as I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I waited for David to join me, then pulled him into my arms for one last kiss before we left for the day ahead.
We were both tired from the night before. In an effort to stop Charlie's natural tendency to concentrate on a concern to the exclusion of all else, everyone had gathered at the Fleinhardt residence for dinner and an evening of conversation. It had been rowdy and cheerful, as our gatherings often were, and we had returned to our own home in the early hours of the morning. But it had been well worth it, watching my brother tiredly, but cheerfully, head up to a temporary bed in Larry and Megan's care, where they hoped to keep him distracted until our father returned in a week's time.
"Let me get my coat and I'll join you," David said, finally releasing me with one last kiss. Then we turned in unison and smiled at Nikki as she hurried lightly down the stairs to join us.
"One last kiss before work?" she said, grinning. "I can't believe, after all these years, that I am still catching you both canoodling at the slightest opportunity."
David just fondly shook his head at her as I turned to open our front door, only to be surprised by the sound of an urgent knocking. Colby strode into our foyer after I opened the door for him, his face concerned, and he held a newspaper in his hand.
"Don," he said, his voice grave, and my misgivings of the previous day returned. "I'm glad I caught you at home. There's been an accident."
Nikki gasped, and I felt my heart stop for a moment before I felt it pounding in my chest. David reached out with one hand, stroking my arm in comfort, and I spared a quick glance at him before returning my attention to Colby.
"The train went off the Rock Island Bridge early this morning, taking all its carriages with it." He looked at me sadly, and then he continued. "It looks bad. They are still pulling bodies out further down-river. News is slow coming, but the number of survivors is expected to be low."
"My God," David muttered as he wrapped his arm around me, glancing back over his shoulder at the sound of Nikki's sob. A sound that I barely registered as my mind had gone numb. And then one thought crept to the surface of my brain: Charlie.
"This is in all the newspapers?" I asked.
Colby nodded.
"Charlie can't see this without any warning," I said firmly, forcing my own burgeoning grief aside as concern for my brother took over. "Colby, see what you can find out from the rail company. I have to see Charlie before he leaves for the university. He can't be allowed to stumble into this."
Colby nodded and headed quickly out onto the street while I got my coat. David was beside me, reaching for his own, and I turned blindly to him, suddenly stunned by what had happened. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, and I pressed my face into his shoulder and shuddered. Then I stepped away, took a deep breath, and tried to meet David's concerned gaze squarely. Then, before the rising grief could take hold of me, I opened the door and was on my way.
I knew, for all my own pain at the thought of what might have happened to our father, that Charlie needed me.
April 16th, 1890
The day was dull and gray as Larry and I waited to board the train to take us to Davenport, where we were to identify our loved ones. Charlie's face was pale and drawn, his expression distracted as he stared at the locomotive as if he didn't recognize what was in front of him. Megan stayed close to him and placed her arm around his shoulders as Larry and I prepared to board.
"No, you can't get on that," Charlie begged, his eyes sudden bright and intent, almost crazed, as he shrugged off Megan's embrace and caught my arm.
"Charlie, it's safe," Megan promised as she and David each gently took hold of an arm.
"How can you say that?" demanded Charlie, turning on them, struggling as David's hold tightened.
My heart was breaking but I had to leave. I had to bring our father and Amita home. "Charlie," I said as I stepped down from the train and took him in my arms. "I'll be home soon, I promise."
"You can't promise that. No-one can promise that, or dad and Amita would be alive now!"
"Go," Megan whispered to me as the train's whistle sounded and David took Charlie from me. "I'll take care of him, go."
"Don," Larry said as he also stepped down from the carriage and placed a hand on my arm, "Charlie's in good hands. Come."
My eyes filled with tears as I turned and boarded the train again, hearing Charlie's protests becoming more frantic as the carriage door was closed by a conductor and we took our seats.
My last view of Charlie, as the train pulled out, was of Megan and David leading him away as he frantically craned his head to follow the train's progress. Then Larry gently patted my arm again in reassurance and I blinked away tears. I knew that the next time I saw this station I would be escorting the remains of our loved ones.
April 18th, 1890
The days passed as if in slow motion as Larry and I waited for the authorities to release the bodies pulled from the river, hoping against hope that my father, Amita and Millie would actually be found alive in one of the hospitals, injured but safe. Amita's parents arrived by rail as we waited, and it broke my heart to see them greet Larry, their eyes showing the despair we all felt when we were unable to give them a shred of good news.
And so we all waited. Four days it took, before we were able to take our loved ones' remains home. And that presented another problem, one that I hadn't foreseen, although Larry, with his greater experience of the world, had.
Tapti and Sanjay Ramanujan were devout Hindus and it was their wish that Amita be cremated and her ashes accompany them home for the proper funeral rites.
My heart stopped at this: the thought that Amita would not lie with Charlie's and my parents hadn't even occurred to me, and I knew that, if I was shocked, Charlie would be devastated. I can only be grateful that Larry had rightly guessed my thoughts and had taken me aside before I could say something unforgivable and add to the Ramaujans' grief.
Finally, Larry and I watched as Mr and Mrs Ramanujan were ferried across the Mississippi with Amita's remains, where they would take the train back to San Francisco and then on to a ship bound for their home. Their stay in our country had been short and devastating, and my heart bled for them, even as I grieved the loss of my father.
But we couldn't stay and watch their passage; we had our own train to catch, with our own burden. We joined Millie's son to supervise our lost loved ones being safely stowed, and made our way back home to New York.
I looked at Larry as we took our seats on the train, waiting for it to pull out of Davenport on its return trip, and dreaded returning home, knowing that Charlie was waiting.
April 23rd, 1890
Charlie, David and Megan were waiting for us as the train pulled into Central Station. My heart clenched in my chest at how pale and drawn my brother's face was.
"It's bad now," Larry said, startling me. I'd forgotten he was there. "We got Charlie through the loss of your mother and we'll get him, and you, through this."
"Maybe. But both our father and Amita? I think this is going to be too much for him." I sighed, stepped down from the carriage, and steeled myself for what was to come.
Charlie pulled free of Megan's grasp and rushed toward me. He stopped a few steps away, looked long at me, and then hugged me. His grasp was gentle, with no sign of the frenzied grief I had expected, and I felt tears well in my eyes. I squeezed them shut tight and returned my brother's embrace, only releasing him when David approached. I went into his arms, not caring what anyone else might think, and buried my face in his jacket, holding on for all I was worth. Then, finally, I pulled back and turned to face Charlie again.
"Our father's coffin is in the final carriage," I said gently. It was time to face what I had been dreading.
Charlie nodded absently and walked with me in the direction of the carriage, and I could see a number of pallets waiting nearby. Charlie frowned, but I knew that there were many other victims of the derailment who were being returned home along with Millie and our father.
"Mr Eppes," a solemn gentleman approached us and introduced himself as a member of the chevrah kadisha, the burial society which would care for our father until his burial.
"Thank you for meeting us here," I said, relieved that our father would be properly cared for after the horrors of the accident and the city mortuary.
We approached the carriage concerned and waited our turn, and then I presented the papers that would release our father into our custody. It hurt to see the simple box as it was loaded onto a pallet, knowing our father lay within, but I knew worse was to come when Charlie noticed that there wasn't a second coffin.
"Don, where's Amita?" he asked. Then he looked at me, hope growing in his eyes. "She’s alive? Tell me she’s alive!"
Larry wrapped one arm around Charlie and pulled him close. "Amita's parents are taking her home to India for a proper Hindu funeral."
"No," protested Charlie. "Amita should rest with our parents. How are we to visit her if she's so far away? Our wedding is in two weeks, she should be here with me."
"Her ashes should be returned to the place of her birth, and the proper funeral rites performed, Charlie," Larry continued, his voice gentle.
Charlie gasped. "Ashes? She's to be cremated?"
Larry nodded. "It is their way." Then he was forced to tighten his hold on my brother as Charlie's face paled even further and his knees gave way. I rushed forward and supported him as he looked up at me in shock.
"Don?"
"Hush," I whispered. "Let's get you home."
David took Charlie's other arm and we supported him as our father's coffin was taken from the station, loaded into a horse-drawn hearse and taken away. Charlie moaned, his face pressed against my shirt, and I was hard-pressed to fight back the tears that welled in my eyes. I followed David's lead almost blindly, concerned only with Charlie, and let David get us settled into a coach.
Megan and Larry climbed in after us, and Megan leaned forward, pressing my hand in reassurance. "I'll give him something to help him sleep."
I nodded, tightened my embrace around Charlie's shoulders, and closed my eyes wearily. David's hand clasped mine and squeezed gently, and finally my tears slipped free.
May 9th, 1890
I lay wakeful in my bed, listening to the quiet, desolate sounds of the house that I had grown up in. A house that had, less than a month ago, been a home filled with the expectations of a bright future, but was now becoming my brother's prison.
This was not where I wanted to be, or where I had expected to be. I had known that Charlie would need me, but had thought that he would stay with Larry and Megan, under Megan's capable supervision, and that I would be safe and secure in David's arms.
But it was not to be. Charlie had refused to leave our family home, saying he could feel the presence of our father and Amita in the quiet moments, and that he could not abandon them. We had tried to persuade him, but he wouldn't have it, and so we had let him return to his room and his office full of books and work-boards.
When Larry and Megan had offered instead to stay with him, Charlie had refused, saying that their presence would be disruptive to the memory of Amita and our father, and we had been forced to back down. So I had moved back home, returning to my childhood room and watching helplessly as Charlie's behavior became more and more eccentric.
His work seemed to comfort him, even though Larry had expressed dismay when he had visited Charlie in his domain. The equations had, in Larry's words, taken flights of fancy that walked the fine line between the workings of a genius and the ravings of a lunatic, and Larry had then broached the delicate subject of Charlie's state of mind.
But Larry didn't know the full extent of Charlie's condition. Because every night, for the past two weeks since our father had been buried, Charlie's sleep had been torn apart by nightmares of our father struggling to save himself from a submerged train compartment, of Amita's voice calling softly in his dreams to save her from the water.
So I knew, as the hours passed slowly, that Charlie's screams would soon begin again and I would get up and go to him, taking him in my arms and soothing him as his bright, crazed eyes would frantically search out the dark corners of his bedroom.
I closed my eyes, hoping against hope that this would be the first night that Charlie's rest would be undisturbed. I breathed softly, slowly, desperately missing the solid feel of David's arms around me, and prayed that tonight Charlie would begin to heal.
Then a scream echoed through the silent, almost empty house. It wailed as I threw off my bedclothes and left my bed. I was out and into the hall when it finally stopped, but I knew the respite would be brief. Then the wail began again, this time calling my name, and I threw open the door to my brother's room to find him sitting up in the pale light of the fire I kept banked for him, his face tight with terror as he searched his bedroom for whatever it was that haunted him in his dreams.
"Charlie, hush," I crooned as I crawled into bed with him and took him in my arms. His body shivered and he called my name again as if he didn't know I was there with him. Then he turned in my arms and looked up at me, his eyes bright with fear.
"Did you see her?"
"See who, Charlie?"
"Amita," he whispered. "Amita was here."
"No, Charlie," I reassured him, rocking him gently in my arms as I spoke. "Amita's parents are taking her home."
"This is her home." Charlie's trembling began to ease and his eyelids dipped. He relaxed into my embrace, giving the room one last inspection before trusting himself to my protection. "Do you think she is at peace, Don?"
I rested my chin on his curls and continued to rock him gently in my arms. "I'm sure she is, Charlie. She was loved – how could she not be at peace?"
Charlie just sighed and we were silent for a long time. I hoped that he would go back to sleep and perhaps not dream again tonight, but then he spoke again, his voice low as if revealing a secret. "It was our wedding day today."
I hugged him tighter and pressed my face into his curls, feeling a sharp pain for what might have been, for the life my brother should have had.
"I don't think Amita is at peace," Charlie confided, his voice almost inaudible.
"Hush, hush," I whispered, my eyes prickling with tears. "Don't say that."
"She visits me. I wake every night to find her beside me, stroking my face in comfort, and for a moment I forget she's dead. Then I remember and cry out and she's gone. Where does she go, Don?"
I choked back tears, feeling them burn in the back of my throat as I tried not to let Charlie know my distress. I swallowed again and tried to speak. "You were dreaming."
Charlie sighed again. "I think I'm going mad. Is this to be my existence, living only for the touch of my dead love in the dark of night?"
There was nothing I could say to that, and my tears fell soft and silent onto his curls as I held him and waited for him to succumb to sleep again. Finally, his body grew heavy and his breathing even and I lay down with him, pulling the covers up over us. I closed my eyes, hoping that I would be able to snatch a few hours of sleep myself before the sun rose and we had to be up and about.
But like before, the hours passed slowly and I slept little, fearing for the return of Charlie's nightmares, knowing that only my vigilance kept them at bay. Finally the dawn broke, light streaming into Charlie's room, and I woke him as I had done on so many of the past mornings.
Charlie blinked, briefly hugged me, and climbed out of bed to start his day. I yawned, stretched my tired body, and followed him.
May 12th, 1890
The day seemed to go on forever, like the others before it, but I dreaded its end, knowing what was inevitable when nightfall returned.
I blinked tiredly. The document I was attempting to read blurred in front of me and the words and letters fragmented into gibberish.
"Hey." David knelt down beside my desk and looked at me, his expression appraising. I hadn't heard him return to our office, and I looked up to see that he had closed the door behind him. "It's all right," he murmured. "Colby and Nikki are watching the front office and we have no more appointments for the day."
He pulled me to my feet and I went willingly, stepping gratefully into his embrace. "I've missed this," I said, wrapping my arms around him.
"Me too. How's Charlie? Larry and Megan are worried about him. And I'm worried about you."
I sighed, pulling back so that I could see David's dear face. "He has nightmares every night. He says he sees Amita," I confided.
David nodded and then pressed his forehead softly against mine. We stayed like that for a long moment, our eyes closed, just basking in each other's touch. Then David spoke quietly, "This can't go on, love. You're exhausted."
"I know," I whispered, sighing as I felt my eyes prickle with tears again. It was a measure of my state that I was brought to tears so easily. "I'll talk to Charlie tonight. But I can't leave him alone in that house."
"Talk to Megan. Neither of you can go on like this, Don."
I pulled back and met David's gaze. "I know. But he has refused to stay with Larry and Megan, and doesn't like anyone else in the house. He says it distresses Amita." I sighed and dropped my head to David's shoulder, blinking back tears again as he wrapped me tight in his arms.
David's embrace tightened and he whispered into my ear, "I'm not sure Charlie is in any condition to say what he wants any more – not if he thinks Amita is in the house."
"I know," I repeated. "I'll talk to him tonight. If he won't see sense, then I'll talk to Megan."
"I'm so sorry, Don," David said, and he tucked my head into the crook of his neck as I finally began to sob.
"Don!" Charlie called urgently as I closed the door behind me and removed my coat. He flew down the stairs, his speed dangerous, and I caught him as reached the bottom step.
"Slow down," I warned, steadying him on his feet.
Charlie frowned and shook off my grip, "You're late. I need you to ask Larry something for me."
"I can invite him over tomorrow if you'd like."
"No, no," said Charlie with annoyance. "I think he distresses Amita, and I won't have that. Especially since I think it is my fault she's caught here anyway."
Charlie's meanderings confused me and I was almost afraid to ask him to explain himself. "What do you mean?"
Charlie turned and walked into the dining room, and I noticed how the table, which had been clear that morning, was now covered with notebooks and sheets of paper, all scrawled with arcane mathematical symbols that I had no hope of understanding. "Charlie?"
"Larry knows far more about the Hindu faith than I do," Charlie said absently as he separated a large sheet of paper from the others and studied it. "Amita and I are engaged and about to be married. Considering how long she has lived in America and acclimatized to our way of life, and taking into account the timing and manner of her death, I am beginning to think her love for me has trapped her soul somewhere between the Hindu and Jewish afterlives."
"What?" His words didn't make sense. "Charlie, no!"
"Why else does she visit me if it isn't because she loves me? I've trapped her here and I have to find a way to release her. I need Larry to find out if there are any Hindu rites that must be carried out." Then he paused. "It might be a good idea to talk to the rabbi too."
"Charlie, no. Amita isn't haunting you; it's only your nightmares."
Charlie turned on me, his face flushed with anger. "If you can't help me, then don't say anything. Just find Larry for me."
I backed away from him, actually frightened of Charlie for a moment. I'd never seen him enraged before, even during the many fights of our youth. I needed to get out of this place, get some air.
I held up my hands placatingly. "All right, Charlie. I'll go and get Larry." Then I turned and fled.
"Don?" Larry asked with concern as he opened the door for me. For all that it was a warm spring evening, I was chilled to the bone and trying not to shiver with reaction. "Come in, come in."
Megan appeared as Larry took my coat, took one look at my appearance, and led me into a sitting room where she fetched brandy. They left me to recover my composure as Larry set about lighting a fire in the grate. Then they took seats beside me and waited for me to speak.
"Charlie is talking nonsense," I began. "He's convinced that Amita's love for him has tied her to him, barring her from both the Hindu and Jewish afterlife." I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "I told him that he's only seeing Amita in his nightmares and he became angry. I've never seen him like this."
Megan reached over and took my hand. "You did the right thing coming to us."
"He demanded I fetch Larry. He thinks you might know what rites will allow Amita to move on," I said, turning to Larry as I did so. "He also talked about fetching a rabbi. The dining room is covered in strange equations. I don't understand what is happening."
"Is Charlie a danger to himself?" asked Megan, squeezing my hand. "Or to you?"
"No! No… I don't know. Megan, I don't know," I whispered.
"Go home to David tonight, let Charlie work through whatever his mind is full of right now and we'll go to him together in the morning."
I shook my head. "Megan, I can't leave him alone with his nightmares. Don't ask me that."
"Then let us come with you," offered Larry.
I shook my head again, fighting tears. I was so tired and wanted, more than anything, to leave Charlie to their care. But he was the only family I had left.
"It's all right," Megan said, squeezing my hand again. "I won't push you to do anything you don't want to do. Just stay here and have dinner with us, rest awhile, and then go home. Give Charlie time to tire and go to bed."
I nodded, unable to find the strength to argue any more.
"Rest now," Megan said. She stood, fetched a throw and had me lie down on the couch. "We'll fetch you when dinner is ready."
Then she covered me, turned off the lights, and they left me alone in the sitting room with the fire burning softly in the fireplace.
The house was dark and quiet when I finally returned, late that night, and I sighed with relief. I crept silently up the stairs to my room, closed the door behind me, and was both touched and surprised to find a fire waiting for me in the grate.
My bed seemed lonely without David beside me, and I huddled under the bed-clothes, wishing desperately that I was not alone. I eventually closed my eyes, tried to calm my breathing, and prayed for a peaceful night without Charlie's screams.
Finally, I fell asleep. How long I dozed, I have no idea, but all I knew was that I was groggy and sleep-drunk when Charlie's cries rent the night air again. My heart pounded fearfully in my chest as I stumbled to my feet and made my way to my brother's bedroom.
Charlie's head turned toward me as I lurched toward him, his face more angry than frightened this time, and I froze. "Charlie?"
"Why is she doing this?" he demanded.
"Amita is gone," I said as I crawled into bed beside him, and he turned on me instead of seeking the safety of my embrace as he had done on the previous nights.
"I know that," he yelled, his eyes blazing. "I can see she isn't here now. Do you think I'm an idiot, Don?!"
"Charlie, you have to calm down," I said, taking hold of his hands as he waved them frantically as he spoke.
But Charlie fought me, one fist catching me in the face as he pulled his hand free of my grasp. "Make her stop!" he shouted. Then he paused and his eyes became shrewd. "Or I'll have to make her stop."
His words frightened me, and I pulled back as he regarded me with an expression that had become hard. But he followed me as I slid to the edge of his bed and placed one foot on the cold floor. Charlie shot out one arm and caught me by the wrist, and I pulled away instinctively, making us crash to the floor.
A cry of pain was forced from me as my head impacted with the cold, hard boards and I saw stars as Charlie's weight landing on my chest, forcing the air from my lunch.
"If Amita won't leave me, then I'll have to make her not love me anymore," Charlie hissed in my face as I shook my head in an effort to clear it.
Strong hands grasped my nightshirt and I heard material rip. I tried to roll to my side, knowing only that I had to force my brother off me, but the darkened room spun around me as my head swam. I groaned and collapsed onto my back again, only dimly aware of the cold night air on my thighs.
Then Charlie's weight was on top of me again, thrusting at me as he sobbed against my throat, muttering words that were unintelligible to me. His hands tried to force my thighs apart, but I fought him as best I could, leaving him no option but to use my groin and belly to sate himself.
Finally, his seed pulsed over my belly and Charlie slid against my chilled flesh, his sobs becoming hysterical as his climax abated. He collapsed on top of me and tucked his head against my throat again and cried as if his world was coming to an end.
I looked up at the dark ceiling above, numb and too exhausted to weep, and lay there until Charlie cried himself out and then pushed himself to his knees beside me. I felt hands try to make my nightshirt right but I couldn't bear to look at him. I closed my eyes at last, rolled onto my side away from him, and waited for the world to stop spinning. Eventually the world dimmed around me and I knew no more.
I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the room was quiet when I awoke. My head pounded with each breath I took, and I sat up with difficulty. The light from the fire, although banked, hurt my eyes and made me blink back tears.
My mind was blank, filled only with vague memories of cold and of Charlie weeping. I staggered unsteadily to my feet and my nightshirt flapped around my legs, the front of it ripped all the way up to my belly.
Charlie! I didn't understand what had happened, why Charlie had turned on me. All I knew was that my brother had attacked me, had used me. I stumbled as I turned around, wary of what he might do next. Then I spied him, tucked up in his bed as if nothing had happened.
I stood there, unsure of what to do. I took one tentative step toward the bed, not sure what I hoped to accomplish, and then took a closer look at my brother. His face was tear-stained and he was curled up tightly in his bedclothes, rocking himself gently in his sleep as if, even unconscious, he sought comfort.
I blinked and stumbled backward, away from the bed. I had no idea where to go, but I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I staggered out onto the landing and collapsed onto the top stair. Wrapping on hand tightly in the wooden spindles of the banister, I leaned my head tiredly against the polished wood and closed my eyes.
My brother was mad.
In the morning Megan and Larry would arrive, and Megan would see the state of the house, that I had gained injuries since she had last seen me, and she would send Charlie to an asylum. It was her duty as a physician, and Megan had never been anything less than capable.
I sighed and lowered my aching head into my hands. Charlie would fight them. Being admitted to a lunatic asylum might destroy his career, but even if it didn't, he might harm others when they tried to take him.
And Charlie, if he ever returned to his right mind, would never be able to bear that. I didn't know how he could ever cope with what he had done to me in his madness and fear.
Rubbing my burning eyes with the heels of my hands, I wished that David was here with me. Or better, that I was home in our bed and that none of this had ever happened. But it had and now I had to deal with it. Charlie was my brother and I had to save him – from himself if necessary.
But I had no idea how to go about doing that. I don't know how long I sat there in the dark and the cold, but eventually I rose slowly to my feet and found a lamp. Lighting it, I made my way down to the basement and stood amongst the detritus of our lives, not knowing what I was looking for, only knowing I'd recognize it when I saw it.
I rummaged through box after box until I came to an old chest. I lowered myself to the floor before it and lifted the lid. There, resting on top of a pile of old clothing, was an old wooden box. I held it in my hands and stared at it for a long moment before opening it. Nestled within was the revolver that our father had reluctantly carried with him during his travels so long ago.
I blinked back tears as I remembered the day that my father had removed the pistol case from its locked box and placed it in this chest, intending to dispose of it. Our mother had hated having it in the house, insisting that there had been no need for the weapon in a civilized city like New York. But the chest has made its way down here and no further.
I sighed. That was all past now. Both our mother and father were gone, and Charlie's life was in tatters. I had to make it right.
I loaded the revolver, dragged myself to my feet and made my way wearily back upstairs to Charlie's room. Finally, I stood over his bed and looked down at him. His face was pinched, even as he slept, and he continued to rock himself. Barely at the edge of my hearing he whispered quiet nonsense.
I placed the revolver on the bed beside him and crawled under the covers with my brother. My torn nightshirt caught between my thighs and I pulled it roughly into place before I sat up, gently lifted Charlie into my arms and rocked him as he grumbled and muttered.
Then he settled in my arms again, as he had so many nights before. I hid my face in his curls, wanting nothing more than to sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened, but I knew that Megan would be here in the morning and then it would be too late to free my poor, mad brother from his torment.
Settling Charlie more comfortably in my arms, I reached for the revolver. I held it in my hand, feeling its weight in my fingers. My hand began to shake and I lowered the weapon to the bedclothes again, feeling sick to my stomach. I closed my eyes and hugged Charlie to me, stilling and holding my breath as he muttered my name. Then he settled again.
I picked up the revolver again, determined to end this. Charlie needed me. I used the barrel to push aside the bedclothes that covered Charlie's chest and rested it against his nightshirt, pressing it over his heart. He muttered again, turning his head into my neck, and tears filled my eyes. I swallowed and placed my finger against the trigger. My hand shook again and I stilled it as best I could and tried to gently squeeze the trigger, but my finger refused to move.
I tried again and sobbed as I the realization came to me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. Tomorrow, they would come for him, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
"Don?" Charlie's voice was soft with sleep.
I sobbed as the revolver grew heavy in my hand and I began to lower it blindly to the bed again. But other hands caught it and returned the weapon to its position against Charlie's breast. I saw, through my tears, Charlie's face looking earnestly up at me.
"It's all right, Don," he whispered. "Send me to our parents and Amita. I can't bear this anymore."
"I can't…"
"I can help you," Charlie said, and his fingers wrapped around mine, sliding over them until one was pressed against the trigger. "Help me do this. Please, Don," he begged, his eyes clear for the first time in weeks.
"I can't," I wailed, blinded by my tears.
"Please," he whispered again, and his hands steadied the revolver in my grasp. I felt his fingers tighten and then a shot rang out, forcing me to scream in anguish.
Charlie's body fell limp in my arms. I threw the weapon across the room and screamed again as the harsh smell of gun powder filled my nose and lungs. I wailed as I rocked his poor, dead body against me. I wanted to die with him. I wanted to go back and throw the revolver in the river so that I could never have been tempted. I sobbed as I prayed desperately for the chance to go back and stop Amita and our father from ever boarding that cursed train.
But it was too late, all far too late to change anything now. Charlie was dead and I was bereft. I hugged his body to me, heedless of the blood that covered both of us, blind to the throbbing in my skull.
Until hands, as soft and insubstantial as gossamer, stroked my hair back from my fevered forehead and then lips kissed my temple. The touch was soothing, like my mother when I had been ill as a child.
I opened my eyes to find her regarding me, her eyes awash with tears that hung softly on the night air. The firelight barely touched her, passing through her as if she was translucent glass. She reached out one slender hand, as intangible as smoke, and gently stroked my cheek, wiping my tears away.
Amita.
I screamed.
The End
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-26 02:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-26 02:31 pm (UTC)Oops... better go post at
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 05:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 06:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-26 07:55 pm (UTC)The angst and the eerie-ness were just wonderful :)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 05:57 am (UTC)As you can see, my love of horror knows no fannish boundaries... *veg*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-26 09:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 05:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-26 11:52 pm (UTC)Very, very well done.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 06:03 am (UTC)And thank you for your comments on the actual writing! I went back and looked at some of the more famous stories written in the American Gothic tradition - The Fall Of The House of Usher and The Tell-Tale Heart in particular - and noticed how many were in first person pov. It made the storytelling somewhat harder, as I had to find an 1890-voice for Don, but it meant I could stay with him during his own disintegration.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 02:11 am (UTC)It came together well and I really enjoyed the background and detail. Fantastic ending - I did not see it coming at all!
Just what I needed as I'm itching for fall, cool weather and Halloween.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 06:05 am (UTC)I'm glad the atmosphere worked for you. The thought of Don and Charlie alone together in the house, in the dark, while New York continued on around them, appealed to me.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-27 10:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-28 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-28 11:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-28 01:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-28 12:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-28 05:47 am (UTC)Don is in trouble either way, though. Either he ends up suiciding anyway, or he faces murder charges and/or an asylum himself.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-29 03:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-29 04:52 pm (UTC)