And he finds himself in a twilight realm (Team Angst) Twilight
Title: And he finds himself in a twilit realm.
Author: Keenir
Proofreader: Fififolle.
Pairing/Characters: Charlie, Amita/Colby; Megan/Larry; Don; Sinclair;
OFC: Dr. Beylar.
Rating/Category: PG-13/Gen
Spoilers: Season 2, season 4 up to ‘Power’.
Summary: Charlie started the day with two firm pillars of certainty in his life: Amita, and math. He lives every day since then, without one.
Warning: I did a bit of editing and adding post-beta, so I should mention that any typoes are my fault.
Prompt: Angst. Twilight.
****
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 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!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 1
As the grand machine rose to full capacity, the speakers in the control room were emitting a basso-profundo thrumming. ‘Like the repeating tones of a pulsar,’ Larry mused, ‘only slowed down.’
“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Charlie asked.
“That’s the sound,” Dr. Beylar said, “of what we’re generating - you can’t tear paper quietly, the universe is no different in that regard.”
From the depths of the machine, bolts of something flew out and struck objects throughout the machine’s room. Some of the objects were abruptly on their sides, while others switched the side of the room they sat on - none vanished, which Larry thought interesting.
“What is that?” Don asked.
“It’s not lightning,” Megan said.
“Barely resembles matter or energy,” Larry said, “at least not conventional forms.”
“I’m shutting it down,” Dr. Beylar said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Don said, giving her a hand.
While there were far too many question marks in Charlie’s mind about what the bolts were, the last one hit him.
~~~
“Incredible,” Dr. Beylar said once more. “I was expecting an artifact from the other universe - a solid that collapses into gel when the physical laws it’s exposed to changed, even a soon-extinguished spark of plasma.”
“Yeah, and instead,” Don said, “my brother gets zapped, which doesn’t do anything more than change his shirt.”
“Which suggests,” Larry said, “that it didn’t simply nab a piece of the other universe, so much as it replaced our Charles Eppes with another one.” Clapping once, “The multi-world model has been confirmed.”
“To a degree,” Dr. Beylar agreed. “Though we as yet don’t know if the number of universes is infinite or finite. Our two may or may not be the only universes in existence.”
“So is this really my brother?” Don asked, “or a fake?”
“Oh he’s well and truly Charles,” Larry said. “Just one whose life isn’t exactly the same as the Charlie we know. Perhaps, in his experience of events, your mother’s cancer went into remission, or it was he and not you who joined the FBI.”
~~~part 2
“Anything?” Don asked, checking in on Charlie and Larry at the university office his brother’d worked in.
“Well,” Larry said, “so far, he’s solved all of the math problems,” of varying degrees of difficulty, “I set out for him.”
“Which doesn’t really tell us anything,” Charlie said, not looking at anything but the formula he was working on, “except that I’m just as biased towards mathematics as the Charlie Eppes of your universe.”
“And that the two universes are identical in regards to physical and biological laws.”
“And that.”
“Great,” Don said. “Think you mind going over your family history with me?”
“Not at all. Let’s see, we went to school with Val, and we both really liked her. Mom got cancer and died. Dad sold me the Craftsman, and he’s still living there.”
“Same here, on all of it.”
And now I suppose I’m going to have to answer questions like when the Berlin Wall came down.”
“It came down?”
Based on how Don had said that, Charlie said, “Funny.”
“I thought so. So, who do you work with?”
“Well, I do consulting work for the FBI - usually with you…the other you - and Larry and Amita help out.”
“And they’re your friends?”
“If he wasn’t, would I honestly have put up with this Larry asking me all these,” ridiculous, “questions?”
“Good point. And Amita?”
“We’re living together.” Charlie wasn’t entirely sure he liked Larry’s nervous look towards Don.
“Oh my,” Larry said quietly.
“I suppose it’s not really surprising,” Don said. “This happened after the things he mentioned.”
“True. Still…”
“What? Amita’s okay, isn’t she?” Charlie asked.
“She’s fine, Charlie,” Don said.
“We had a fight, didn’t we?” That’s not so strange - we’re too alike to run flawlessly, and just different enough to spark friction every so often.
“No. Actually, the two of you work together great - you’re both consultants for my guys.”
“Great,” Charlie agreed. “But we’re not together, Amita and me, are we?”
“Afraid not.” Don took a deep breath, and decided to tell him. I’d tell my brother if he were here, and this Charlie’s as close as we can come - so far. Here goes. “Charlie.”
“Hm?”
“Put down the chalk. There’s something I think you should know.”
He set it down. “What is it?”
“Charlie, Amita’s engaged.”
If he hadn’t already set it down, Charlie would have dropped it. As it was, he had to scrabble for a seat. “To whom?” Charlie asked hoarsely.
“Colby Granger.”
Charlie fell into the chair. Colby’s a good guy, Charlie knew…but…Amita? My Amita?
“A month and a half ago,” Larry said, adding information - it didn’t lessen the sting that he imagined Charles no doubt going through, but he knew that Charles would seize any data gladly.
~~~~~
An hour later…
Charlie half-noticed that he wasn’t alone in the room, but he paid the other man no heed until Colby said, “They filled me in on what happened. That’s gotta suck.”
Charlie’s hand paused in mid-equation. After a bit, “You have no idea.”
“I’m not gonna lie and say that I do, Charlie, but I do have an inkling of what you’re going through.”
He turned away from his board, looking at Colby. At the man who was - and Charlie’s stomach wrenched as he fought to stomach this fact - Amita’s fiancé. “Oh really? An inkling?” Is this pertaining or related to your time undercover?
“Yup. Things’re so familiar that you find yourself lulled into a sense of familiarity, feeling secure…but it’s a false sense, and you realize that only when a difference rears up and hits you upside the head with a two-by-four.”
Charlie made the V-for-Victory sign with one hand, his knuckles facing Colby. “I’ve been to England,” so I know what you’re talking about.
Colby shrugged. “England, Japan, Turkey, Brazil, Florida; doesn’t matter. It can hit any time, anywhere.”
“So, anything I can get you, Professor?”
“Is my life an option?”
“If I could get it, it’d be; sorry. Anything else?”
“How ‘bout a beer?”
“Done. I’ll be right bac-”
“Don’t rush,” Charlie said. For politeness’ sake, he appended, “Too much jostling alters the state the beers’ll be in when opened,” to it.
“Now that sounds like the Charlie we all know. I’ll walk back real slow,” and left.
~~~~~
The next day,
At the FBI bullpen…
“He didn’t leave anything behind, we know that - no prints, dead skin or bits of fabric - except for this,” and I tap my index finger’s middle joint against the enlarged photograph here on the board. “This is a terminating fraction - Pi to be precise.”
“I thought Pi,” David said, “was one of those numbers that just go on to infinity.”
“For us, yes. But this here is from the Sumerian system of counting, and they didn’t count Pi as a non-terminating fraction like we do.”
“But math doesn’t change,” Megan objects. I know, Charlie thought to himself. That was what first drew me to mathematics - while people are irritatingly prone to movement and change, numbers aren’t. They stay there, still. Perfect.
“Yeah,” Colby says, “but writing systems are.” Learn that in Idaho, Afghanistan, or under Amita’s tutelage? Charlie tsked at himself mentally for such a low blow, even if he hadn’t said it aloud. You’re right, though, Colby - writing systems are mutable, unlike numbers.
And so unlike so many of what had always been my certainties. Now they’re drawing to a close. “True,” I agree.
“Okay,” Don says, “so we’re looking for someone who knows Sumerian math. How many peoples’ that?”
~~~~~~~~~
Next day, on campus…
The case hadn’t run into a dead end, more of a set of bumps in the road towards solving it. I tried and tried, but there was a detail that seemed to be missing, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was.
And that left me alone for a bit with Amita, who was working on a related problem.
I wanted to ask her - to find out…what? What Colby had that I didn’t? Or what the difference was between the two Amitas, that one chose him and the other chose me?
“Could I,” I start to ask, immediately revising. “If you don’t mind, Amita -” and even that sounds horrible.
“If something’s on your mind, Charlie,” Amita says, “just say it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” with a twinkle in her eye. “Just don’t propose. I’m already spoken for.”
“Just not to a banker in Goa.”
Amita’s laugh tells me she still gets my tries at humor. “No. He’s not that.”
Okay, time to ask it. “Amita?”
“Hm?”
“Where did you and Colby -” not ‘meet’ because that was probably - Shut up, I tell myself, and let her answer for herself!
“I was on my way to join you and your fellow professors (and their assistants) at a closed meeting, when I stopped to see why Colby was looking so despondant.” Did he tell you then about his spying? Or was this when he wasn’t yet a spy, but was waiting to become a triple agent? “He was reluctant, but I got him to agree to tell me later over a coffee.
“I had to slip inside the conference room when I got there - the doors had closed, but the first meeting hadn’t yet been called to order. You told me not to worry.”
I remember that day, Charlie thought to himself. Only she made it to the conference room before the doors closed, and she looked like she wished she’d stopped to talk to someone - I thought it was just a student she’d passed in the hallway - a sophomore or freshmen or whomever - who’d elicited that look, that’s why I never asked her about it. I guess in the history I’m from, Amita must’ve stopped, looked at Colby, and hurried on, wishing she’d been able to do more.
Is silent for a while. I don’t know what to do now. Do - can - I win her back, or even try? Stopping time - or even the sun - wasn’t in the list of things known to him…turning back the clock, even less so.
~~~~~~~~~
Later that day…
“Larry,” I say when Fleinhart’s been standing in my office doorway for more than thirty seconds, that pensive look plainly evident on his face.
“Hello, Charles,” Larry says. “Sorry, but I was the formulae you were using, and that reminded me of something Megan said.”
With a strong suspicion of just what that something was, “I’m fine,” I reiterate for the umpteenth time.
“I know you are,” with implicit ‘post-accounting for the sudden shift you’ve experienced.’ “When a star reaches the end of its life -” eh, real positive thoughts there, Fleinhart, “if it’s mass is bigger than our sun by a particular multiple, it will collapse into a neutron star.” I see, so now I’m a neutron star? Solitary and alone, my words available for anyone to hear?
Okay, maybe I am.
“But if additional material is added, say by a binary companion, then the dying star becomes a black hole.”
“Megan was talking about stellar death?” I ask.
“What? No, it pertained to the case. She was saying that the chief suspect isn’t matching the profile she’s formed.”
“…which is supported,” I add, “by the numbers Amita and I crunched.” And that was awkward for a long while…the feeling remaining even after I asked her about a difference in our respective universes.
“Exactly. So maybe we need to expand our field, to see just what companions our thief has, that turned him from being a nascent collapsar, to a swallower of light.”
“In this reality,” I ask him, “do you have a cell phone?”
Larry looks at me, baffled. “Why would I have a cell phone?”
I smile. “Some things change less than others.” Pulling mine out from the desk drawer, “Do you want to call Megan, or should I?”
~~~~
Two days later…
‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’ was one student’s written answer to the bonus question on the exam, and Charlie - hoping to distract himself from his plights - came this close to failing the kid for that and that alone.
Charlie left his desk, going for the longest and most circuitous route through the campus grounds. The mnemonics provided by the students, those could wait. Right now, all he knew was that he needed room: it was that rare moment that body and mind knew math couldn’t help.
He’d had five such moments in his entire life.
He’d once bemoaned ‘I can’t even dream right.’ But he’d never said ‘I can’t even love right.’ Mostly because, until Amita had come along, it had never been a problem - the issue had never arisen. Even with Susan, he’d cheated. All his life, he’d watched people - Don, teachers, kids on the playground - and had drawn lessons from them, teaching himself social cues, so he’d know how to react in given circumstances. What’d happened with Susan, that had been the culmination of a lot of overhearing…and even then, he’d had an awkward time of it, one she’d chalked him up to inexperience.
She had had no idea.
And armed with all of that, I tripped in my early relationship with Amita. That - the me who was here before me, he probably never got past that tripping stage…if he even got that far. He’s never known love firsthand; knows it only from listening to Don and to total strangers … just as I did.
I have loved and lost.
He has never loved at all.
…and did another lap, longer still.
~~~~
That night…
During the day, one is flooded with light. As twilight comes around, the light lessens. By nighttime, there is only the memory of daylight’s brightness, consisting of the stars and the Moon.
Day was over for Charlie, he knew, and would forevermore be, unless something drastically changed. No longer would he be able to bask in the warmth of Amita’s love. All that remained was to catch friendly smiles and compliments.
It was a private evening, restricted to the only applicable person: Charles Eppes, and only dusk because the strong memories still lingered.
For Colby and Amita, it was still a sunlit day.
For Charlie, twilight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Author: Keenir
Proofreader: Fififolle.
Pairing/Characters: Charlie, Amita/Colby; Megan/Larry; Don; Sinclair;
OFC: Dr. Beylar.
Rating/Category: PG-13/Gen
Spoilers: Season 2, season 4 up to ‘Power’.
Summary: Charlie started the day with two firm pillars of certainty in his life: Amita, and math. He lives every day since then, without one.
Warning: I did a bit of editing and adding post-beta, so I should mention that any typoes are my fault.
Prompt: Angst. Twilight.
****
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 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!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 1
As the grand machine rose to full capacity, the speakers in the control room were emitting a basso-profundo thrumming. ‘Like the repeating tones of a pulsar,’ Larry mused, ‘only slowed down.’
“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Charlie asked.
“That’s the sound,” Dr. Beylar said, “of what we’re generating - you can’t tear paper quietly, the universe is no different in that regard.”
From the depths of the machine, bolts of something flew out and struck objects throughout the machine’s room. Some of the objects were abruptly on their sides, while others switched the side of the room they sat on - none vanished, which Larry thought interesting.
“What is that?” Don asked.
“It’s not lightning,” Megan said.
“Barely resembles matter or energy,” Larry said, “at least not conventional forms.”
“I’m shutting it down,” Dr. Beylar said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Don said, giving her a hand.
While there were far too many question marks in Charlie’s mind about what the bolts were, the last one hit him.
~~~
“Incredible,” Dr. Beylar said once more. “I was expecting an artifact from the other universe - a solid that collapses into gel when the physical laws it’s exposed to changed, even a soon-extinguished spark of plasma.”
“Yeah, and instead,” Don said, “my brother gets zapped, which doesn’t do anything more than change his shirt.”
“Which suggests,” Larry said, “that it didn’t simply nab a piece of the other universe, so much as it replaced our Charles Eppes with another one.” Clapping once, “The multi-world model has been confirmed.”
“To a degree,” Dr. Beylar agreed. “Though we as yet don’t know if the number of universes is infinite or finite. Our two may or may not be the only universes in existence.”
“So is this really my brother?” Don asked, “or a fake?”
“Oh he’s well and truly Charles,” Larry said. “Just one whose life isn’t exactly the same as the Charlie we know. Perhaps, in his experience of events, your mother’s cancer went into remission, or it was he and not you who joined the FBI.”
~~~part 2
“Anything?” Don asked, checking in on Charlie and Larry at the university office his brother’d worked in.
“Well,” Larry said, “so far, he’s solved all of the math problems,” of varying degrees of difficulty, “I set out for him.”
“Which doesn’t really tell us anything,” Charlie said, not looking at anything but the formula he was working on, “except that I’m just as biased towards mathematics as the Charlie Eppes of your universe.”
“And that the two universes are identical in regards to physical and biological laws.”
“And that.”
“Great,” Don said. “Think you mind going over your family history with me?”
“Not at all. Let’s see, we went to school with Val, and we both really liked her. Mom got cancer and died. Dad sold me the Craftsman, and he’s still living there.”
“Same here, on all of it.”
And now I suppose I’m going to have to answer questions like when the Berlin Wall came down.”
“It came down?”
Based on how Don had said that, Charlie said, “Funny.”
“I thought so. So, who do you work with?”
“Well, I do consulting work for the FBI - usually with you…the other you - and Larry and Amita help out.”
“And they’re your friends?”
“If he wasn’t, would I honestly have put up with this Larry asking me all these,” ridiculous, “questions?”
“Good point. And Amita?”
“We’re living together.” Charlie wasn’t entirely sure he liked Larry’s nervous look towards Don.
“Oh my,” Larry said quietly.
“I suppose it’s not really surprising,” Don said. “This happened after the things he mentioned.”
“True. Still…”
“What? Amita’s okay, isn’t she?” Charlie asked.
“She’s fine, Charlie,” Don said.
“We had a fight, didn’t we?” That’s not so strange - we’re too alike to run flawlessly, and just different enough to spark friction every so often.
“No. Actually, the two of you work together great - you’re both consultants for my guys.”
“Great,” Charlie agreed. “But we’re not together, Amita and me, are we?”
“Afraid not.” Don took a deep breath, and decided to tell him. I’d tell my brother if he were here, and this Charlie’s as close as we can come - so far. Here goes. “Charlie.”
“Hm?”
“Put down the chalk. There’s something I think you should know.”
He set it down. “What is it?”
“Charlie, Amita’s engaged.”
If he hadn’t already set it down, Charlie would have dropped it. As it was, he had to scrabble for a seat. “To whom?” Charlie asked hoarsely.
“Colby Granger.”
Charlie fell into the chair. Colby’s a good guy, Charlie knew…but…Amita? My Amita?
“A month and a half ago,” Larry said, adding information - it didn’t lessen the sting that he imagined Charles no doubt going through, but he knew that Charles would seize any data gladly.
~~~~~
An hour later…
Charlie half-noticed that he wasn’t alone in the room, but he paid the other man no heed until Colby said, “They filled me in on what happened. That’s gotta suck.”
Charlie’s hand paused in mid-equation. After a bit, “You have no idea.”
“I’m not gonna lie and say that I do, Charlie, but I do have an inkling of what you’re going through.”
He turned away from his board, looking at Colby. At the man who was - and Charlie’s stomach wrenched as he fought to stomach this fact - Amita’s fiancé. “Oh really? An inkling?” Is this pertaining or related to your time undercover?
“Yup. Things’re so familiar that you find yourself lulled into a sense of familiarity, feeling secure…but it’s a false sense, and you realize that only when a difference rears up and hits you upside the head with a two-by-four.”
Charlie made the V-for-Victory sign with one hand, his knuckles facing Colby. “I’ve been to England,” so I know what you’re talking about.
Colby shrugged. “England, Japan, Turkey, Brazil, Florida; doesn’t matter. It can hit any time, anywhere.”
“So, anything I can get you, Professor?”
“Is my life an option?”
“If I could get it, it’d be; sorry. Anything else?”
“How ‘bout a beer?”
“Done. I’ll be right bac-”
“Don’t rush,” Charlie said. For politeness’ sake, he appended, “Too much jostling alters the state the beers’ll be in when opened,” to it.
“Now that sounds like the Charlie we all know. I’ll walk back real slow,” and left.
~~~~~
The next day,
At the FBI bullpen…
“He didn’t leave anything behind, we know that - no prints, dead skin or bits of fabric - except for this,” and I tap my index finger’s middle joint against the enlarged photograph here on the board. “This is a terminating fraction - Pi to be precise.”
“I thought Pi,” David said, “was one of those numbers that just go on to infinity.”
“For us, yes. But this here is from the Sumerian system of counting, and they didn’t count Pi as a non-terminating fraction like we do.”
“But math doesn’t change,” Megan objects. I know, Charlie thought to himself. That was what first drew me to mathematics - while people are irritatingly prone to movement and change, numbers aren’t. They stay there, still. Perfect.
“Yeah,” Colby says, “but writing systems are.” Learn that in Idaho, Afghanistan, or under Amita’s tutelage? Charlie tsked at himself mentally for such a low blow, even if he hadn’t said it aloud. You’re right, though, Colby - writing systems are mutable, unlike numbers.
And so unlike so many of what had always been my certainties. Now they’re drawing to a close. “True,” I agree.
“Okay,” Don says, “so we’re looking for someone who knows Sumerian math. How many peoples’ that?”
~~~~~~~~~
Next day, on campus…
The case hadn’t run into a dead end, more of a set of bumps in the road towards solving it. I tried and tried, but there was a detail that seemed to be missing, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was.
And that left me alone for a bit with Amita, who was working on a related problem.
I wanted to ask her - to find out…what? What Colby had that I didn’t? Or what the difference was between the two Amitas, that one chose him and the other chose me?
“Could I,” I start to ask, immediately revising. “If you don’t mind, Amita -” and even that sounds horrible.
“If something’s on your mind, Charlie,” Amita says, “just say it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” with a twinkle in her eye. “Just don’t propose. I’m already spoken for.”
“Just not to a banker in Goa.”
Amita’s laugh tells me she still gets my tries at humor. “No. He’s not that.”
Okay, time to ask it. “Amita?”
“Hm?”
“Where did you and Colby -” not ‘meet’ because that was probably - Shut up, I tell myself, and let her answer for herself!
“I was on my way to join you and your fellow professors (and their assistants) at a closed meeting, when I stopped to see why Colby was looking so despondant.” Did he tell you then about his spying? Or was this when he wasn’t yet a spy, but was waiting to become a triple agent? “He was reluctant, but I got him to agree to tell me later over a coffee.
“I had to slip inside the conference room when I got there - the doors had closed, but the first meeting hadn’t yet been called to order. You told me not to worry.”
I remember that day, Charlie thought to himself. Only she made it to the conference room before the doors closed, and she looked like she wished she’d stopped to talk to someone - I thought it was just a student she’d passed in the hallway - a sophomore or freshmen or whomever - who’d elicited that look, that’s why I never asked her about it. I guess in the history I’m from, Amita must’ve stopped, looked at Colby, and hurried on, wishing she’d been able to do more.
Is silent for a while. I don’t know what to do now. Do - can - I win her back, or even try? Stopping time - or even the sun - wasn’t in the list of things known to him…turning back the clock, even less so.
~~~~~~~~~
Later that day…
“Larry,” I say when Fleinhart’s been standing in my office doorway for more than thirty seconds, that pensive look plainly evident on his face.
“Hello, Charles,” Larry says. “Sorry, but I was the formulae you were using, and that reminded me of something Megan said.”
With a strong suspicion of just what that something was, “I’m fine,” I reiterate for the umpteenth time.
“I know you are,” with implicit ‘post-accounting for the sudden shift you’ve experienced.’ “When a star reaches the end of its life -” eh, real positive thoughts there, Fleinhart, “if it’s mass is bigger than our sun by a particular multiple, it will collapse into a neutron star.” I see, so now I’m a neutron star? Solitary and alone, my words available for anyone to hear?
Okay, maybe I am.
“But if additional material is added, say by a binary companion, then the dying star becomes a black hole.”
“Megan was talking about stellar death?” I ask.
“What? No, it pertained to the case. She was saying that the chief suspect isn’t matching the profile she’s formed.”
“…which is supported,” I add, “by the numbers Amita and I crunched.” And that was awkward for a long while…the feeling remaining even after I asked her about a difference in our respective universes.
“Exactly. So maybe we need to expand our field, to see just what companions our thief has, that turned him from being a nascent collapsar, to a swallower of light.”
“In this reality,” I ask him, “do you have a cell phone?”
Larry looks at me, baffled. “Why would I have a cell phone?”
I smile. “Some things change less than others.” Pulling mine out from the desk drawer, “Do you want to call Megan, or should I?”
~~~~
Two days later…
‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’ was one student’s written answer to the bonus question on the exam, and Charlie - hoping to distract himself from his plights - came this close to failing the kid for that and that alone.
Charlie left his desk, going for the longest and most circuitous route through the campus grounds. The mnemonics provided by the students, those could wait. Right now, all he knew was that he needed room: it was that rare moment that body and mind knew math couldn’t help.
He’d had five such moments in his entire life.
He’d once bemoaned ‘I can’t even dream right.’ But he’d never said ‘I can’t even love right.’ Mostly because, until Amita had come along, it had never been a problem - the issue had never arisen. Even with Susan, he’d cheated. All his life, he’d watched people - Don, teachers, kids on the playground - and had drawn lessons from them, teaching himself social cues, so he’d know how to react in given circumstances. What’d happened with Susan, that had been the culmination of a lot of overhearing…and even then, he’d had an awkward time of it, one she’d chalked him up to inexperience.
She had had no idea.
And armed with all of that, I tripped in my early relationship with Amita. That - the me who was here before me, he probably never got past that tripping stage…if he even got that far. He’s never known love firsthand; knows it only from listening to Don and to total strangers … just as I did.
I have loved and lost.
He has never loved at all.
…and did another lap, longer still.
~~~~
That night…
During the day, one is flooded with light. As twilight comes around, the light lessens. By nighttime, there is only the memory of daylight’s brightness, consisting of the stars and the Moon.
Day was over for Charlie, he knew, and would forevermore be, unless something drastically changed. No longer would he be able to bask in the warmth of Amita’s love. All that remained was to catch friendly smiles and compliments.
It was a private evening, restricted to the only applicable person: Charles Eppes, and only dusk because the strong memories still lingered.
For Colby and Amita, it was still a sunlit day.
For Charlie, twilight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End