Title: Blood Relatives

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: I don't do spoilers

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and neither do you. We don't have a problem so please don't sue.

Summary: There is a serial murderer on the loose with a history with the FBI, but what is his agenda?

Note: Can you all believe it? Barely under two years and 23 chapters later and Blood Relatives is finally finished. I'm happy yet at the same time I'm sad. What else am I supposed to do in my free time? I hope you all enjoyed. I'd like to thank my beta Dre for sticking with me and my odd posting schedule and for always reading my insanely long or short chapters. Thanks to all those who have stuck with this story and prayed there would someday be an ending. Please read and review. Roth out. BYES!

Blood Relatives

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Accept that all of us can be hurt, that all of us can--and surely will at times--fail. I think we should follow a simple rule: if we can take the worst, take the risk." Dr. Joyce

"One week," thought Don as he walked toward the door of Charlie's house. "One week Charlie was in the hospital." It had all gone by in a blur for Don thanks to the trips between the office and the hospital. He barely saw his apartment that week, and Don was almost positive his father only left the hospital to shower and then went right back.

"Hello?" said Don loudly as he walked in the front door. "Dad? Charlie?"

"In here, Donnie!" shouted Alan from the kitchen. Don walked through the house, casting a quick glance in the living room and seeing Charlie asleep on the couch with the television on, and stepped into the kitchen. Alan was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

"Hi, Donnie. How are you?"

"Uhh...good, Dad," replied Don, taking a seat the table. "How's Charlie doing?"

Alan sighed and put down his newspaper. "Good, for the most part. He's pretty worn out today though."

"Why?"

"He wanted to go out to the cemetery today to see Libby's grave," replied Alan cautiously.

"And you took him?! Come on, Dad! He just got out of the hospital."

"What would you have liked me to have done? He's a grown man, Don; he can make his own decisions, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't convince him not to go!"

Both Alan and Don fell silent for a few minutes, giving each other a chance to calm down.

"I'm sorry," said Don, after taking a deep breath. "I'm just worried about him."

"So am I, Donnie, but we can't force him to get better, and we can't baby him and make his decisions for him. All we can do is try and help him deal with all this."

Don thought about his father's words for a few minutes. "What happened at the cemetery?"

"Nothing really," answered Alan. "I drove Charlie out there, we found Libby's grave, Charlie asked to be alone, and I went back to the car and waited for him. He came back about ten minutes later, and we came home. He's been sleeping on the couch since we got back."

"How was he after he came back from the grave?" asked Don, determined to get every detail he could from his father.

"The same way he's been since he left the hospital: tired. I keep trying to get him to rest, but he seems bound and determined to work somehow. Earlier this morning he was working on a problem for Larry, and yesterday, I caught him cleaning up the living room. He said 'all the clutter was bothering him.' Now, he takes an interest in keeping his house clean."

Don nodded as he smiled at his father's comment. "I think I'm going to go in there and talk to him," said Don as he started to stand up.

"Don't you dare! This is the first restful sleep he's gotten since he came home, and I don't want to spend another hour trying to convince him to rest again."

"Is he not sleeping well at night?" Don slowly sat back down and stared at his father.

Alan shook his head. "I heard him tossing and turning all night. There's something else bothering him, but I can't get him to open up, and I don't want to push him." Don nodded but remained silent. With a sigh, Alan stood up from the table and walked over to the fridge. "Are you hungry, Donnie? I was going to make spaghetti for supper tonight."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm kinda hungry."

Alan nodded and began to pull a few items out of the fridge. While he was busy, Don got up and walked into the living room. He sat down in the chair closest to the couch and stared at his brother for a moment. Charlie's back was turned toward the television, and his face was pressing against the back of the couch. His breath was even, and Don assumed he was still asleep. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote. The TV was on some weird documentary on the History Channel, and Don would much rather be watching a baseball game.

After flipping the channel, Don was scared out of his mind by Charlie's voice. "I was listening to that."

Don nearly jumped out of the chair, and he quickly turned toward his brother. "Christ, Charlie. You scared the shit out of me."

Charlie slowly rolled over and looked at Don. "Sorry."

"Dad said you were asleep."

"You woke me up when you came in the door. You were shouting loud." Charlie struggled for a moment but managed to get into a sitting position. "What's up?" asked Charlie through a large yawn.

"Not much," replied Don. "We've just been trying to finish up a few cases at the office." There was a pause as Don ran a hand though his hair, and Charlie rubbed his eyes in an effort to wake himself up. "I heard you went to see Libby's grave today," Don said as nonchalantly as possible.

Charlie stopped in the middle of a stretch and looked toward his brother. "You and Dad have been talking about me, haven't you?"

Don studied his brother's face for a moment to see was type of response would be best. Charlie looked annoyed and tried, and Don thought the truth in the most condensed version possible would be best. "We're worried about you, Buddy. You've barely talked to us at all about what happened."

"You know what happened, Don; you were there. I'm sure you told Dad. He wouldn't let you get away with not telling him, so I don't really see any need to talk about what happened!" Charlie seemed to be exhausted by the end of his rant, and he leaned back against the top of the couch. He was breathing heavily, and Don stared at him completely worried.

"Are you okay, Charlie?" asked Don, getting out of his chair and placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Don." Charlie pushed away his brother's hand and slowly got up off the couch. Don could tell Charlie's chest was bothering him by the way he moved so that his torso moved the least.

"Does your chest hurt?" asked Don, following his brother out of the living room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Don. I think I kinda wore myself out today." He started up the stairs. "I'm going to bed. Tell Dad I don't want supper please."

Don watched his brother disappear at the top of the stairs and then walked dejectedly into the kitchen and sat down.

"I told you not to wake him up," said Alan, matter of factly as he dropped spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water.

"He was already awake." Don leaned forward and rested his head in his hand.

"He'll talk to us when he's ready, Donnie. But as much as we want to help him and as much as we want him to get over this, some of this he has to deal with on his own. We'll be there when he needs us, Donnie. Trust me."

Don sighed and nodded his head as he ran a hand down his face. "I know, Dad, and I do. I just hate seeing him like this."

"I know what you mean," muttered Alan sadly. "I know what you mean."

XVIIIIV

Charlie didn't know where he was, but he wished to God that he could leave. The air that blew against him was freezing and making his eyes water. He could distantly hear rain pounding on a building, and there seemed to be a fag drifting around and swirling around his feet. Slowly, a hallway began to form in front of his eyes, and Charlie tentatively started down it. The farther he got down the hallway the more Charlie could hear of another noise; it was the sound of chirping birds.

Charlie finally reached the end of the hallway and found a door that looked a lot like the door to his office. Charlie could hear the birds loudest of all now, and he knew they were on the other side of that door. He took a deep breath, set his hand on the knob, and threw it open.

It opened up into the library that Libby had taken him to, but it looked like it had been taken over by a horror movie. On the other side of the library, Charlie could vaguely see a glass aviary with a thin figure sitting hunched in front of it. Charlie started toward the figure, but the second he stepped into the room, rain started pouring down. He sprinted across the library to get out of the rain as fast as possible and over to the figure.

"My God," muttered Charlie as rain dripped down his face and obscured his vision. At first, he wasn't even sure he was seeing straight. "Libby?"

The figure turned her head, and Charlie gasped when he got his first full look at the figure. It was indeed Libby, but not the Libby he had talked to in the library a few weeks before. This was a different Libby; this was a scary Libby. Across her right cheek were several deep and bleeding scratches, and her once green eyes were black.

"They're fighting," said Scary Libby, sounding a lot like a sulking child. "They're not supposed to fight."

"Who?" asked Charlie, nearly yelling to get his voice above the wind and birds.

"The birds."

Charlie turned his head and saw that all the birds in the glass aviary were fighting one another. A few lay at the bottom not moving, and several were fighting in mid air with feathers flying. It almost made Charlie want to throw up seeing the animals the young woman had cared so much about killing each other.

"Why are they fighting?"asked Charlie, finally turning his head away. The rain started pounding harder, and the sound of the birds grew louder.

"They're mad," replied Scary Libby, angrily. The child like sound to her voice was still there. "At you."

Charlie's stomach dropped, and he backed away from the girl and the aviary. "Why?"

Scary Libby got up from her sitting position and turned toward Charlie. The rain water was making the blood run down her face and neck, and she truly looked demonic. "Because you lied!" shouted Libby as she lunged forward arms extended as if to strangle Charlie.

With a deep intake of breath, Charlie sat up in his bed and immediately grabbed his chest. The sudden movement pulled some of the stitches and stung badly. Sighing loudly, Charlie slowly got out of bed and went downstairs.

Charlie grabbed the remote off the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He flipped on the television and settled back watching earlier morning infomercials. He wasn't sure he was ever going to get a worthwhile sleep again.

XVIIIIV

Alan looked into the living room and saw his son sitting on the couch once again working on Larry's equation and sighed. When he had woken up that morning, Alan had found his son watching TV on the couch; it was clear he hadn't slept much the night before. Alan was beginning to worry more and more and was even considering talking Charlie into therapy.

"Charlie," said Alan, leaning against the doorway to the living room, "I'm going to the store. You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Yeah, Dad," replied Charlie, not even bothering to look up from the equation. "See you when you get back."

Alan sighed and headed out the front door, praying Charlie would get better soon.

Charlie continued staring at the notebook, but he couldn't keep his mind on the problem. There were so many thoughts running through his head, and he wasn't able to think at all about the equation. "I need to clear my head," thought Charlie as he ran his hand down his face. He set the notebook off to the side on the couch and slowly stood up. Pulling on some shoes as he walked out the back door, Charlie spotted his bicycle leaning against the garage, Don must have brought it home from CalSci, and hurried towards it.

Charlie carefully got onto the bike and rode down the driveway. He was sure there was only one place in the world that would help him clear his head.

XVIIIIV

The frantic phone call from his father had scared Don out of his mind. "Donnie, I came home from the store, and Charlie was gone. He was here when I left; he was working on an equation. When I got back, he wasn't here. His bike is gone, Donnie, but I don't know where he went." Don promised he would find him and then spent the next twenty minutes calling everyone he could think of who might know where Charlie was. It wasn't until he called David that he got a break. Matt had told David about the library they had followed Libby to.

It took Don forever to find the library, but when he did, he was sure it was the right one. He saw Charlie's bike parked in the rack out front. "Great," thought Don bitterly. "He's only been out of the hospital a week and half, and he's thinks he's okay enough to go bike riding." He shook his head as he grabbed the library door and walked in. The atmosphere changed immediately; it was cooler and darker than outside and a lot quieter. People mulled about reading or carrying books, and some talked quietly to their companions.

Don hurried up to the woman sitting at the information desk near the door. "Excuse me," said Don quietly; the woman looked up from her computer. "Can you tell me if a pale man with curly, black hair walked in recently?"

The woman stared at him for a moment and then pointed to the stairs near a group of tables. "He went up those stairs. He was breathing kind of hard. That's the only reason I noticed him." He nodded and walked across the library to the stairs. Rushing up them, Don looked around for his brother. He looked around the second floor after he reached the top, but didn't see Charlie anywhere. Don was about to go back down the stairs when a head of dark curly hair caught his eye. He turned quickly and saw Charlie sitting in front of a large glass case that housed birds.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the elder Eppes hurried over to his brother. "Charlie!" said Don loudly; he received several shushes from library goers. His brother looked up at him, eyes glassy, and then turned back to the birds. "Charlie, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting."

Charlie hung his head. "I needed to think," he replied quietly, running his hand through his hair. "Clear my head." He looked back to the birds watching a bright green one fly into a nest in the corner.

"You need to get home and rest, Charlie," said Don. "I can't believe you rode your bike here. Are you crazy?!" Another shush.

Charlie remained quite for several minutes causing Don to worry, but he finally opened his mouth to say something. "Libby took me here; she liked those birds." He pointed to the glass cage.

Don looked over his shoulder at the case and then back at his brother. "Birds, Charlie?" said Don with a shrug of his shoulders.

Charlie leaned forward still watching the birds intently, studying them. Don sighed when he realized this was going to take longer than he had hoped and grabbed a chair. He pulled it over to his brother and sat down next to him.

"What's going on, Charlie?"

"We were supposed to protect her," replied Charlie. "I had the answer. I told her everything would be okay."

"Kade was smart, Charlie. You know that. There was only one way he was giving up."

"He had to die." Charlie leaned back and crossed his arms. "Libby said something when we were here, and now, I can't get it out of my head!"

"What?"

"She was talking about the birds. She said they all got along even though they were different. They didn't care. There's no violence, no hatred, no problems. They don't try and kill each other; they just live."

Don watched the animals now. "People aren't like these birds, Charlie. There are problems and violence in our world."

"I know that, Don," said Charlie angrily turning toward his brother, perhaps really seeing him for the first time since he had arrived. "Trust me, I know that."

"Sorry." Don sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Charlie, when I was in Albuquerque I was working a case that involved a large drug ring. All through the case, I kept noticing that evidence was disappearing. I finally ended up confronting one of my agents about it, a young guy named William Sloan. He was the one doing it alright. Do you know why he did it, Charlie?"

"No," replied Charlie, shaking his head, "and I don't see your point either."

"He stole it, Charlie, because he needed money to help his sick sister. The drug lord was paying him to make sure there was never enough evidence to convict him."

"Still not seeing the point." Don could tell Charlie was beginning to get annoyed.

"The point is Charlie: the real world is harsh and people will do drastic things to get what they need and want. When things aren't handed to them, they get desperate, and when the things they are used to are ripped away, they get even more desperate to set things right."

"Are you condoning what Kade did?"

"No, Charlie. Never. Let me put it this way: if you were take away the food or water or home from those birds, and they'll get desperate too. They wouldn't live together happily anymore."

Charlie shook his head and rubbed his forehead. "I don't think I like that image." Charlie stood up from the chair and walked over to the aviary. The birds all flew away from the glass when he stepped close.

"Buddy?" asked Don quietly.

"I want to go home, Don," muttered Charlie, rubbing his sore stitches lightly. "I can't be here anymore. Can you drive me home?"

"Sure, Buddy. Let's go."

Don and Charlie descended the stairs and excited the library just as it started to rain again for the third time that week. Don didn't noticed Charlie tense up slightly when the rain started to come down harder; he was too busy trying to get Charlie's bike into the back as quick as possible.

"Ready?" asked Don, getting into the driver's seat; Charlie was already on the passenger's side.

"Yeah."

Don started the car and pulled away. Charlie closed his eyes as his brother drove, trying his best to ignore the sound of the rain.

XVIIIIV

Another week went by and things slowly seemed to be getting better for Charlie. After the incident at the library, Charlie had opened up a bit about the conversation he had with Libby and his feelings about the entire situation, but Don and Alan could both tell Charlie was still holding things back.

Don was driving back from the office ready for a night of relaxation at his apartment when his cellphone started ringing. Reaching for it, Don prayed it was not a call that would mean he would have to turn around and go back to the office. The caller ID showed that it was from his father, and Don quickly answered it.

"Hey, Dad," said Don, resting the phone between his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Don, I've got some bad news."

"What?" asked Don nervously; he instantly thought there was something wrong with Charlie.

"You remember Tom Jenkins, my friend from college?"

"Yeah," replied Don.

"He moved to Sacramento a few years ago, and his wife just died. I've got to fly there as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I hope he's okay."

"Thanks, Don. I hope he is too. Look, I know Charlie's been doing better lately and everything, but I don't want to leave him alone yet. Can you stay over at the house for a day or two?"

"Sure, Dad," replied Don, understanding exactly what his father was saying. "When are you leaving?"

"Tonight," replied Alan. "I got the first flight to Sacramento I could. I can't thank you enough, Donnie."

"It's no problem, Dad. I'll be there as soon as I can. I just need to stop by my apartment real quick."

"Alright. I'll see you in a little while. Good-bye."

"Bye." Don hung up the phone and headed back toward his apartment.

XVIIIIV

Charlie turned away from the chalkboard in the garage and stared out the window. The sky was cloudy, and he knew, thanks to the weather that morning, that before long that it was going to start pouring down rain. "Great," muttered Charlie with a shudder, "another fucking rainstorm." He didn't want to tell his father or Don that rain seemed to petrify him now no matter how hard he tried to ignore or think about other things.

Charlie knew the exact reason why the rain now scared him; it was about the only thing he could vividly remember from the night Kade attacked him. The words that went on between him and Kade now seemed vague and distant, and he still wasn't sure what happened with Don other than him trying to stop the bleeding, but the sound of the pouring rain was constant throughout the entire thing. It now scared Charlie half to death every time it rained because it brought back memories of that night. How could he tell his father or his brother that he was a grown man afraid of the rain?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and Charlie dropped the piece of chalk in his hand. "Sorry, Charlie," said Alan surprised by his son's reaction. "I just came out here to tell you I'm about ready to leave." He studied his son's face for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," muttered Charlie. "You just startled me." He knelt down and picked up the now broken piece of chalk. "Tell Tom I'm really sorry about his wife."

"I will, Charlie." Alan paused for a moment. "Your brother's gonna be here pretty soon."

"Don?" said Charlie. "Why's he coming over?" Then it dawned on him. "Dad, I don't need a baby-sitter!"

"Humor your old man," said Alan. "Besides, he's not going to be a baby-sitter. You ever think maybe he just wants to spend some time with his brother."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Alan sighed and then pulled his son into a hug. "I'll be back in a few days, Charlie. Okay?"

Charlie hugged his father back and nodded. "I'll see you then."

"You gonna stay out here?" asked Alan as he let go of his son.

Charlie looked out at the sky and saw that it had grown darker in just a short amount of time. "No," replied Charlie. "I'm done out here. I'm going in." He set the pieces of the broken chalk on an old desk and followed his father back into the house.

Just as they entered the house, Don was walking into the kitchen. "Hey, Dad. I thought you have left for the airport already."

"I'm on my way out now," replied Alan. "I'll see you both in a few days." He gave Don quick hug good-bye before heading out the back door and left for the airport.

Charlie let out a deep sigh and walked into the living room. "You okay, Charlie?" asked Don as he followed his brother into the room.

"I'm fine," replied Charlie, sitting down on the couch. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

Don studied his brother, but finally accepted his answer. "I was thinking of ordering a pizza. What do you think?"

"Sure," replied Charlie. "Sounds good."

"How 'bout we order a Hawaiian. It's still your favorite, right?"

"Yeah."

Don shook his head and went back into the kitchen to order the pizza.

Charlie pulled his feet back on the couch and looked out the window in the living room. It was just beginning to rain. Charlie turned on the television trying to ignore the incoming storm.

XVIIIIV

Later that night, long after the pizza had been devoured, Don and Charlie sat in the living room watching an old sci-fi movie on TV. The movie was the stereotypical B rated sci-fi movie complete with crappy sets, pour acting, and constant rain as a backdrop, but it was entertaining if only from a comedy point of view. All through the movie, Don couldn't help but notice Charlie's odd demeanor; he wasn't focusing too much on the movie, and his eyes kept darting toward the windows. Don even noticed that once during movie, Charlie jumped at the sound of thunder. It wasn't even from the storm outside; it was off the movie.

"Charlie?" said Don, muting the television and studying his brother for a moment. "Are you alright?"

Charlie looked from his brother, to the movie, to the window, and then to his brother again. "I'm...I'm..." His answer never came out; the lights in the house flickered once and then went completely out. "Oh God," Don heard his brother murmur from over on the couch. "Oh God."

"Call down, Charlie," said Don as he slowly got out of the chair he was sitting. His leg hit the coffee table, and Don hissed in pain. "I'm sure the storm just knocked the power out," said Don though gritted teeth.

Charlie didn't reply. "Buddy?"

"I'm...I'm fine, Don."

"Okay," said Don, slightly confused. "Charlie, where do you and Dad keep the flashlights?"

"Utility drawer in the kitchen," replied Charlie quietly.

"Alright. I'm gonna go grab a flashlight, and then you and I need to find the circuit breaker in the basement."

"Okay." Don couldn't help but notice how unsure his brother sounded. He walked into the kitchen and searched blindly for the utility drawer. A brief flash of lightening helped Don find it faster, and he pulled open the drawer quickly and found the small Maglite his father kept there for emergencies.

"Come on, Charlie!" Don shouted into the living room. He waited for a moment listening for his brother's movements wondering why he hadn't gotten off the couch yet. "Charlie?"

"I'm coming," Charlie said quietly. Don could hear him getting off the couch and then could barely make out his outline in the doorway. Don flipped on the flashlight and nearly blinded his brother.

Charlie threw his hand in front of his eyes. "Hey!"

"Sorry," said Don with a laugh. "You ready?"

Charlie nodded and then both headed down to the basement. With a little help from Charlie, Don found the circuit breaker, but didn't have any luck getting the lights. "Looks like we're going to be in the dark for awhile."

"Great," muttered Charlie. "Just great."

There was a flash of lightening and then a crack of thunder, and Don was shocked by his brother actually screaming. "Charlie?" said Don, quickly turning the flashlight toward his brother. "Are you okay?"

His brother's pale face was illuminated by the beam, and Don watched as his brother slowly turn around and stumbled back up the stairs. "Charlie, are you okay?" Don asked again as he followed Charlie up the stairs. "Charlie?"

His brother still didn't respond. He walked through the darkened house and into the living room. Don watched as his brother sat down and pulled his legs up onto the couch. "Charlie?" asked Don, now very worried about his brother. "Are you okay?" The beam of the flashlight revealed that his brother's shoulders were shaking badly.

"I can't stand the rain," muttered Charlie.

"The rain?"

Charlie laughed; it was hollow sounding and sad. "It scares me. I'm a grown man who's scared of the rain. Sad, huh?"

"Charlie?" said Don, sitting down next to his brother. "Why?"

"I don't remember much about the night Kade attacked me," said Charlie. "I don't really remember what he said to me, and I don't remember much after you got there. I just kinda remember pain and little bit of what you said to me."

Don heart fell a little bit when Charlie said that, but he continued to listen.

"All I really remember clearly is the sound of the storm. Now, every time it rains I keep getting flashes and memories of that night. It scares me, and I feel like an idiot because of it."

Don set his arm around the shoulders of his brother. "You're not an idiot. This is normal."

"Yeah right. You ever been afraid of the rain?"

"No," said Don, "but the after first time I was shot, every time I heard a loud bang of any kind I nearly freaked out. I was in a restaurant about two weeks after it happened, and a busboy dropped a tub of dirty dishes. I dove under the table like a madman; it took me nearly an hour to get my heart rate back to normal." Don was relieved when he heard his brother give a small laugh.

"But Don I'm a grown man who's afraid of the rain. What does that make me? A coward, that's what."

"No, it makes you human. It makes you a man who went though something terrible and is slowly recovering from it." His brother was silent for a few minutes, and Don struggled to think of what his brother could possibly be thinking.

"She died," said Charlie.

"What?"

"Libby. I told her everything would be okay, and she was killed."

"Charlie, her death was in no way, shape, or form your fault."

"Then why do I feel so guilty about her death, but I don't feel anything for Kade."

"Kade?"

"I killed him, Don. When he attacked me, I fought back, and I stabbed him with the knife he brought. I killed my own student, Don, and I don't feel a thing for him." Charlie moved away from his brother, put his feet on the floor, and rested his elbows on his knees.

Don stared at his brother completely shocked amazed at how long Charlie had been keeping this to himself. Setting his head on his brother's back, Don said, "You didn't kill Kade, Charlie?"

"You do realize that Kade is dead, don't you?"

"Yeah, but you didn't kill him. He died from a gunshot wound to the back."

Charlie turned toward his brother wide-eyed. "What?"

"I shot Kade," explained Don. "When I got to your office and Kade raised his gun, I shot him as fast as I could."

Charlie shook his head. "I should still feel something. A student of mine is dead!"

"Your reaction to Kade's death is normal. You don't have to feel guilty over him, Buddy."

"What about Libby? I can't get over her."

"There is no way in the world Libby would blame you for this, Charlie. Her death was nobody's fault but Kade's, okay?"

Charlie ran a hand down his face and nodded. "It's not going to go away overnight, Don."

"You wouldn't be normal if it did."

Don could see his brother smirk in the dark. "When have I ever been normal, Don?"

"Good point."

Both Don and Charlie jumped a little when the light flickered back on and the scifi movie come back on. The hero of the movie and "his girl" were sharing a passionate kiss, signaling the end of the movie.

"It looks like it stopped raining," said Don, after casting a glance out the living room window. Both brothers got off the couch and stepped out of the house onto the porch.

The Pasadena neighborhood was soaked; the street and sidewalks was covered with puddles, and raindrops feel from the trees with every small gust of wind soaking the ground even more. There was a dog barking somewhere in the distance, and Don saw a bat flutter across the sky.

"Maybe that'll be the last one for awhile," said Don. "We're due for some sunshine."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe." Don was a little disappointed when he didn't get a lecture on how "people are never due for anything."

"Are you okay, Charlie?"

I don't think so; I'm just very tired." Charlie yawned loudly, "I'm gonna go to bed. Night."

"Night, Buddy," said Don, watching his brother disappear into the house. With a sigh, Don turned to stared up at the cloudy night sky; he could faintly see the moon behind a dark wispy cloud.

XVIIIIV

Charlie once again found himself in the rainy library, but this time, Scary Libby and the aviary were missing. He spotted a door with light shining under it, and Charlie threw open the door praying it would lead to somewhere better. Sunlight nearly blinded his as he stepped into an open field.

He could faintly hear the mellow cords of a guitar from somewhere across the field. Charlie stumbled across the field searching for where the music was coming from. After clambering over a small hill, Charlie finally spotted the guitar player and instantly recognized the small form of Libby Fields. As Charlie approached her, he prayed that he wouldn't run into Scary Libby again.

Libby stopped playing and turned toward Charlie; he was relieved to see that she looked normal. "Isn't this the biggest utility closet you've ever seen?" she asked, giving him a smile.

"Libby?"

"The one and only. Well, actually, not the one and only Libby. I had a science teacher back in high school with the name Libby." She set her guitar off to the side. "Have a seat."

Charlie cautiously sat down next to her. "Are you...okay?"

"Well," said Libby, looking out into the distance for a moment, "for the most part. I am dead after all."

Charlie winced at that even though there was no malice in her voice. "I'm sorry," he said quietly as he stared down his hands which were folded in his lap.

"For what?"

"For you dying."

Libby turned to stare at him. "I'm confused. As far as I know, Kade Hackett killed me, not you."

"I told you everything would be okay. You died."

"A lot of people told me I would be okay, including my brother. Besides, I told you my fate was in the hands of something bigger, and I wasn't talking about the FBI."

"So, you're not mad about dying."

"I would rather die than have someone die for me. I couldn't let Kade kill Matt Depp. Besides, it's peaceful out here." Libby stood up. "Come on. I want to show you something."

Charlie stood up and followed Libby across the field; she led him to the aviary from the library only it was now sitting beneath a large oak tree. Charlie was relieved to see that the birds weren't fighting; they were all sitting in branches close to the glass. Charlie watched them for awhile praying they wouldn't begin fighting.

"Just because they don't want or need anything and they just live peacefully does not mean they're happy," said Libby.

"What?"

"They're content. They have everything handed to them, and they never want or need anything, but they're not happy. They're content with the way things are because they don't know any better. I doubt they would have chosen this life if they had been given the choice."

Charlie stared at the birds. "Let it go," he heard Libby say.

"What?" asked Charlie, turning toward her.

"I said we should them go."

Charlie shook his head. "We can't."

"Sure we can. We just open up the aviary, and if the birds want to leave, they leave, and if want to stay, they stay."

"How do we open it?"

"With the key," replied Libby.

"We don't have the key."

"I don't have the key," said Libby, "but you do. Open your hand."

Charlie looked down; he hadn't even realized that one of his hands was clenched tightly shut. He slowly opened his hand and saw a small gold key resting in his palm. With his other hand, Charlie picked up the key and studied it. After a moment, Libby took it and walked slowly toward the aviary. Charlie noticed that even though the birds were studying were carefully, they did not fly away from there perch near the glass.

Libby inserted the key in the lock to the aviary's small door and unlocked it. She suddenly threw open the door and then hurried back to where Charlie stood. "Watch," she said quietly.

The top slid of the aviary slid to the side, the walls fell to the ground, and every single bird flew away into the clear blue sky.

"Let it go." He heard Libby say as they both watched the birds fly off into the distance.

"Let what go?" asked Charlie, still watching the birds.

"The pain, the guilt, the fear. Just let it go."

"I don't know how."

"It's simple," said Libby. "You take a deep breath, let it out, and let it all go."

"It can't be that simple."

"Why don't you give it a try?" She stooped down and picked up her guitar that seemed to have followed them to that exact spot. With a sigh, Libby turned toward. "You might want to wake up; your brother is getting worried."

"What?" Charlie suddenly found himself in hi s bedroom with his brother bending over him looking a little worried.

"God, Charlie. I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Charlie slowly sat up and stared at his brother. "What time is it?"

"11:30 am. Buddy, are you okay or not?"

Charlie took a deep breath and then it out slowly, feeling better for the first time in weeks. "Yeah, Don. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" asked Don, setting his hand on his brother's shoulders and studying him carefully.

Charlie nodded and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled that was the first time in what seemed like forever that "fine" was the truth. "I'm hungry."

Don laughed. "I say we go find lunch then." He couldn't believe this was the same Charlie from the night before.

"Alright. Just let me grab a shower."

Don left his brother's room to allow him so time to get ready, but he couldn't help but smile to himself. His brother was slowly returning, and things looked they were going to go back to normal or at least close to normal. Don cast a glance out the hallway window and then paused to look at the beautiful summer day. The sun was out slowly drying up the rain from the night before, and Don could see a large group of birds flying across the sky.

Finem