Perception Deception Part 3 - Tuttle

by Rabid Raccoons

Chapter 33: Happy Endings

…

Don, who had been released from the hospital nearly a week earlier, carefully crutched his way toward Charlie's room, Robin walking slowly beside him, her attention on the display of her cell phone.

"Okay," she said, dropping the phone into the pocket of her jacket. "Larry's at the grocery right now, but he should be dropping things off at home and picking your dad up for lunch in about an hour. Then they'll come to see Charlie. Larry can take you and Alan both home in time for dinner. Are you okay with that?"

Don smiled at Robin's repeated use of the word "home". He was undoubtedly the luckiest man alive. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and balanced on his crutches, leaning forward a trifle precariously until he could kiss her on the cheek. "I'm okay with everything. You're safe, Charlie's getting better, and Tuttle's dead."

Robin blushed, smiled, then frowned. "Do you ever feel guilty, that you're so — happy — that another human being is dead?"

Don shrugged, beginning to move down the hospital corridor again. "First, he'd have to be human, wouldn't he?"

Robin nodded. "Good. Cuz I don't feel too bad about it, myself. And I don't do guilt."

"That's because you're not Jewish," Don teased. He looked at her and winked. "At least not yet."

Robin smirked at him and changed the subject. "Sam Jarrett called Colby last night. Seems when the big guns from the FBI showed up in Podunk, Idaho, it scared the truth out of the new sheriff. Took about half an hour of interrogation to break him. I understand he's implicating several high-level conspirators faster than they can write down what he's saying. They will easily clear both Sam's friend – and Sam – of any wrongdoing with the information."

Don glanced at her. "You seem to be pretty up-to-speed on all this. Have you talked to Sam? Will he run again if there's a special election?"

"I haven't spoken with him personally," answered Robin, "but I think he will. He's interim sheriff already; the Governor of Idaho appointed him to the position until a new election can take place. Colby talked to Doris, too — she said the whole county feels so bad about the whole thing, they probably won't even be able to find somebody to run against him."

Don laughed. "You know what would be funny? If Doris ran."

Robin rolled her eyes and punched Don gently on the shoulder. "Don't you dare plant that idea in her head. She'd do it just to be ornery." She pushed open the door to Charlie's room, and waited for Don to crutch inside ahead of her.

"Hey, no way am I taking her away from the kitchen. Not as long as she keeps shipping batches of cookies out here."

"Don't let your father hear you say that," warned Robin. "He's threatened enough by Doris as it is."

Charlie, sitting in the large chair positioned near the hospital bed, blinked at them from a face still too pale and tired for Don's liking. "What are you two talking about?", his voice still raspy enough to remind Don how fine the line was between leading a blessed life — and a cursed one.

"Hey, Buddy," greeted Don. "Robin was just saying that it looks like Sam's going to be sheriff, again. I suggested that it might be interesting if Doris ran against him in the special election."

Charlie grinned. "You are an evil man, Don Eppes."

Don grinned back. "All right if I stay here this afternoon? I've got some outpatient therapy downstairs, later, and Larry's with Dad… Robin thought she might grab an afternoon at the office. I can ride home with Dad and Larry later."

Charlie frowned. "I just had lunch…I think it qualified as lunch. Shouldn't Larry be teaching?"

"It's Saturday," interjected Robin. "That's one reason I want to go by the office; no one else will be there, and I'll be able to get a lot done."

"It's Saturday?" echoed Charlie, sounding a little lost.

Don settled himself on the edge of Charlie's bed. "Sleep all the time and the days all run together, eh?"

"Don't tease him," Robin admonished.

Don looked at her innocently. "I have to. I'm his big brother, and it's my job."

Robin and Charlie both groaned. Robin crossed to Charlie's chair long enough to lean and kiss the top of his fuzzy head. "I'll see you later at the house," she said to Don as she straightened, but stopped when she felt Charlie's weak grip on her wrist. "Charlie?"

Charlie's pale face took on a hint of color. "I was…wondering. Do you talk to Amita? I mean, I know she's busy. Probably helping to cover my classes…"

Robin glanced quickly at Don. He and Alan had decided that Charlie shouldn't be worrying about his relationship with Amita — or anything else — until he was stronger; home from the hospital. Robin, on the other hand, believed that with Amita beside him, Charlie was stronger…but she understood their position. The men loved Amita, but were unable to completely trust her; she had left Charlie once, and they were afraid that Charlie wouldn't be able to take it if she left him again. They had come so close to losing him that their protective instincts were in overdrive.

Don frowned, and Robin looked back at Charlie. "Yes, she is — and fielding lots of offers from other schools; they all want her first-hand report of what's going on in Switzerland with the Hadron Collider. I think she's speaking at UCLA next week." She purposely did not look at Don again before she continued. "You know she was ill with the flu herself, right?"

Charlie nodded. "Dad said that's why they wouldn't let her visit me in ICU. But she's better now?"

Robin smiled brightly. "She is. Still doesn't have the strength she wants — she'd like to start writing a paper about the Hadron for one of the journals…"

"Publish or perish," Charlie murmured. He shifted a little in his chair. "Does she know I was moved into a regular room? I can't use my cell phone in here, but there's a landline. I almost called her last night, but I didn't want to disturb her if she was sleeping…"

Robin risked Don's wrath. "She has a cell, Charlie — she can turn it off when she needs to — but you can still leave her a voice mail."

Charlie let his head slump toward his chest. "I didn't know what to say. Before…before Tuttle's men took her, I was supposed to meet her at a restaurant. She had something she wanted to say to me. I guess…I'm afraid to hear what it might be."

Don interjected himself into the conversation. "Better get going, Robin," he said loudly. "You want to get as much done at the office as you can, right?"

Robin held his gaze with her own. "Absolutely," she agreed amicably, reaching a hand out to squeeze one of Charlie's shoulders. "Don't stay up too long and get tired out," she said, and then she tossed her hair. "And go ahead and give Amita a call, later. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

She felt Don's glare on her back all the way out of the room.

...

Amita stood in the open doorway of her apartment, in her housecoat and fuzzy blue slippers. She clutched the robe around her neck, and hastened to reassure her good friend that he had not disturbed her. "No, Larry, I wasn't sleeping. I got up hours ago; I've been staring at the computer screen, trying to find the motivation to start my paper." She sighed. "Obviously, I couldn't even find the motivation to get dressed."

Larry smiled at her gently. "You were very ill — I didn't have as bad a case of the flu as you did, and I still don't feel totally normal."

Amita smiled. "Trust me, Larry — 'normal' is not a word most of us would apply to you. Not that we don't love your uniqueness."

Larry rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. My normal, if you will. In addition, you've been traveling recently, and the horrible ordeal you suffered upon your arrival…perhaps you shouldn't push yourself so hard. I came to invite you to lunch with Alan and I, but maybe you should just go back to bed."

Amita reached up one hand to push at her hair. "Oh. Larry, really, I'm fine now. I would enjoy spending some time with Alan — but I'm such a mess…"

Larry glanced at his watch. "Alan's not expecting me for almost an hour. There are some groceries in the car, but nothing perishable. I could come in and wait for you to get ready, if you'd like." He smiled again, brightly this time. "After lunch, we're going to the hospital to see Charles!" His smile dimmed. "He still doesn't look anywhere near healthy to me, but they're anticipating releasing him in just a few more days." His tone became confidential. "Alan still won't let Dr. Chambers schedule the knee surgery — he's not convinced Charlie is ready to come home, either. You can give us your opinion, tell us how you think he looks."

Amita paled, her eyes glazing slightly as she considered Larry's request. I think he looks adorable, she thought. I always have. I always will…but am I ready to see rejection in eyes that used to be full of love for me? Love that I threw away, as if it was something I could easily find again? He hasn't called, he hasn't asked to see me…

"Amita?" Larry was frowning slightly. "Dear, we'd love for you to come along, but I wish you'd reconsider taking a nap."

Tears pressed at the back of Amita's eyes, and her attempted smile was wobbly. "Maybe you're right, Larry." She sniffed. "On top of everything else, I think I'm getting a cold."

"That settles it," proclaimed Larry. "You get some rest this afternoon. If you're feeling up to it, perhaps you can go see Charles tonight — I'll be taking Alan and Don both home in time for dinner, so he'll be alone this evening anyway."

Amita nodded, smiled again. "Good idea," she said. her voice so low that Larry had to strain in order to hear her. "Good idea."

...

Colby stood and lifted his frosty mug in a mock toast. "Here's to J. Everett Tuttle," he said solemnly. "May his pieces eternally rot in hell."

Nikki snorted and David smiled before they both raised their own glasses to drink. Liz reached up and pulled at Colby's shirt. "Sit down," she encouraged, glancing around the crowded bar. "You're making a scene."

Colby lurched away from her touch and stared down at her disdainfully. "It's a cop bar, Warner," he pointed out, his voice slightly slurred. "D'ya think Tuttle is the first asshole to be remembered here?"

Liz considered, then shrugged and took a gulp from her own beer. "Probably not," she said, wiping the foam from her mouth. "But he's probably one of the biggest."

Nikki snorted and David grinned again. They both held their glasses out toward Liz, and she clinked her mug against them, as did Colby, before they all drank again.

Colby dropped heavily into his seat. "Shame Don and Charlie couldn't join us," he said. "If anybody deserves to celebrate another man's death, it's those two."

David swirled his whiskey, watching the liquid in his glass. "I don't know," he mused. "I mean, Don's hosted a few of these farewell parties himself over the years, but that was before he started seeing the rabbi; he might not be so into the celebratory aspect of a monster's death, anymore."

"I'll bet Robin would have hoisted one or two with us," said Nikki. "Maybe we should have waited until Don was off pain meds and Charlie was out of the hospital..."

Colby managed to shake his head and drink some more beer at the same time. "No problem," he said. "We'll just do it again. Personally, I think ol' J. Everett put me through at least a couple of pitcher's worth of hell." He smiled brightly. "Hey! Next time, let's invite Scarpelli, if he's up to it — and Phil, too!"

"Phil?" questioned Nikki.

"That's 'Assistant Director Wright' to the rest of us," David informed her. "He and Colby seem to have achieved a first-name familiarity during the Tuttle regime."

Liz began to giggle. "Lord; I'd love to get drunk with my boss and his boss, all in the name of an idiot. Only in the F. B. Fuckin' Eye."

David lifted an eyebrow and Nikki barked a laugh. "Now you're talkin', home-girl!" She high-fived Liz across the small table.

"Enough of the maudlin for one night," announced David. "Next round is on me, and it's in celebration and appreciation of Charlie – the Energizer Bunny of the team. Takes a lickin', and still keeps on tickin'."

"Here, here!" crowed Colby, waving an empty pitcher in the air. He glanced toward the barkeeper. "Seriously. Here."

...

The door to Charlie's hospital room was open only a few inches. Amita approached cautiously, peering around the edge to make sure that no one else was in the room. She had waited until almost 8 o'clock before she went to the hospital – and once there, she had sat in a downstairs lobby for almost twenty minutes before she summoned the courage to go upstairs to Charlie's room. Visiting hours ended at 9 p.m.; surely everyone else had left. As she stepped out of the elevator onto his floor, her cell phone chimed in her purse. She ignored it, other than waiting for a moment for it to stop ringing, then walked quietly down the hallway to Charlie's room.

There was a sink and wall mirror in one corner of the room; Amita could plainly see the mirror, and could tell by looking in it that the room was empty, save for Charlie, who was at a 45-degree angle in the bed, telephone at his ear. She started to back away for a few more moments, to give him some privacy, when he began to speak.

"Um...hey, 'Mita. It's me. Charlie. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you're doing okay. Dad, uh, Dad said you were sick, and, and, I know you've been busy... anyway. Just...I'd like to see you. Talk to you." He was silent for so long, Amita thought he had finished leaving the message, but then he spoke again, in a raspy whisper that drew her closer to the door. "I've missed you. For so long, now, I've missed you." He paused again, then added, "I still love you. Always."

Amita's eyes welled with tears as noises indicated that Charlie was struggling to return the phone to the small table beside the bed. Wiping her eyes and straightening her spine, Amita pushed open the door and entered the room. She smiled at Charlie when he looked up at her. "Do you need some help with that?" she asked. She took a step closer to the bed. "I've thought a long time about this, and I've decided that I know you well enough to trust you. If you tell me to throw the phone on the floor, I may not understand why, but I accept that you have your reasons — and usually, those reasons will end up saving someone's life."

Charlie blinked and dropped the receiver, which slid off the edge of the bed and dangled halfway to the floor. "Amita?"

She took another step. "I am so sorry. I never should have left. I never should have demanded that you stop consulting. I never should have let fear override trust...and love."

He blinked again. "Love?"

She nodded, taking another step. "Love," she confirmed. "All-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime love."

A single tear escaped from the corner of Charlie's good eye, and rolled casually and unchecked down his stubbled cheek. "I think Don and Robin are getting married," he said.

"I think so too," she agreed. "Did you know Larry is an ordained minister? We can beat them to the altar. If you want."

Another tear chased the first, and he held out his arms toward her. "You're all I ever wanted," Charlie answered softly. "Come here."

Amita took another step, which put her close enough to the bed to lower the rail, which she did. She paused to drop her purse into the chair just as the cell phone inside buzzed to indicate an incoming voice message. She smiled as she carefully climbed up onto the bed, and nuzzled into Charlie's side. "Someone just left me a message," she shared. "I hope it was good news."

"I think it was," said Charlie, turning slightly, so that they faced each other. One hand reached up to trace the soft contour of her cheek. "You deserve some good news."

She continued to smile as her arms encircled him and she laid her head on his shoulder. "I've missed you, too," she whispered.

...

End, Chapter 33

End, Perception Deception

…

A/N: While we're sorry if Don fans did not find this series to be an equal-whumping experience, we have never claimed to be anything other than what we are: Charlie girls. (We did try to injure Don. We did the best we could, and he still has to undergo some therapy, so he's not perfect anymore.)

Anyway, we hope everyone found something to enjoy somewhere in this three-part series.

Serialgal and FraidyCat ("Rabid Raccoons") found great writing partners and lifelong friends — what's better than that?