Disclaimer: Numb3rs isn't mine, and Wikipedia filled in the blanks in my knowledge.
A/N: Pre-series; Don's 18ish, Charlie 13. Takes place the summer before college but that's kinda immaterial.
One in Eight
(Theme: Fresh Air)
When Charlie woke up next, it was morning. He could sense movement and the hustle and bustle caused by daylight hours. Hearing a strange, repetitive clack, click, clack, clack sound, he opened his eyes in an attempt to discover the source of the unfamiliar noise.
The last thing he expected to see was his older brother sitting in a chair beside his bed, messing around with a Rubik's cube. He must have given a grunt of surprise because almost immediately Don's hands stopped twisting the cube this way and that and he lifted his head.
"Morning, Chuck," Don greeted. "How you feeling?"
Fair question. Charlie took a moment to assess his current situation: soreness around his stomach which he supposed was to be expected, along with a slight heaviness of the limbs. Bodily, he felt tired and he ached to go back to sleep until he could regain his energy but since his mind had already come online, Charlie knew he would be ignoring his body's requests for the time being.
"I'm ok," he replied, wincing against the scratchiness left in his throat from yesterday's general anaesthetic.
"If you say so." Don reached to his right and grabbed a plastic cup already filled with water and handed it to Charlie. "Drink. And slowly. You slept through the changing of the guards but Mom said she'll try to get off work early, be back here in a few hours. Until then, make like a fish."
Charlie obeyed but soon put the cup back in his brother's hand which hadn't retracted for fear of Charlie dropping the container and spilling water over himself.
"And Dad?"
"Gone home to catch a few hours of sleep before heading into work. If you get discharged today, you'll probably see him at home."
Charlie's ears perked up. "I can go home today?"
"If, brother, I said if. Speaking of which-," Don leaned forward and pressed the call button. "What do you think are the odds of the hot, red-headed nurse coming in right now?"
Before Charlie could answer, the sound of a door opening and another person entering reached their ears and a moment later, the privacy curtain of Charlie's cubicle drew back to reveal the aforementioned nurse who even a recently operated-on Charlie could admire - from a purely aesthetic point-of-view, of course.
"Score!" mouthed Don to Charlie who had to fight down a smile.
"Good morning, Charlie! It's good to see you awake – you were out for the count when I took my rounds earlier on. How do you feel?"
Charlie hesitated a bit before answering, aware of the fact that his big brother was within hearing distance. "A little sore," he said finally.
The nurse – Kathy, according to her name-tag – clucked her tongue. "Hmm, I'm sure. Any sharp, stinging pain when you move around? Nausea? Dizziness? Light-headedness?"
"I haven't been moving around, and no," replied Charlie after taking a moment to get the question straight in his drug-and-sleep addled brain. Before Nurse Kathy could jump in with another question, Charlie took advantage of her taking his blood pressure to ask a question of his own:
"Can I go home today, then?" To say he sounded hopeful would have been understatement.
"Well….," began Kathy as she slipped the stethoscope back around her neck. "It has been almost 24 hours since your surgery and there have been no complications to speak of. Tell you what? The doctor will be checking in on you shortly, let's see what he says, hmm?"
Deflating a little bit, Charlie just nodded.
Kathy smiled. "Cheer up, little one, enjoy some quality time with your brother. If you stay until the afternoon, Nurse Lena will come on duty and trust me, she is the true bombshell in this hospital." With a wink for Charlie, and a cheeky smile directed at Don who had the grace to turn slightly red, she left the room but not before she drew the privacy curtain across once again.
Realizing Charlie was giving him a look very much reminiscent of their mother, Don just shrugged and smiled. Silence descended like a blanket upon the brothers but when Charlie began to literally twiddle his thumbs and shift in bed, Don took up the Rubik's Cube from its hiding place beside his chair.
"Here, distract yourself with this, the last thing we need is for you to pop your stitches open because you were getting bored," said Don as he twisted the cube this way and that to get rid of the sides he'd already completed. His hands were fast but Charlie was sure he'd seen at least three sides completed.
"Aren't you going to get bored?" Charlie asked as he accepted the puzzle.
"Nah. I came prepared for war," Don replied and demonstrated his declaration by reaching behind him and pulling out a thick tome.
"Catch-22? Really?" asked Charlie, perplexed, as he read the title cover.
"What's wrong with Catch-22?" replied Don defensively.
"Nothing wrong with it, it's just not… baseball."
"Kinda hard to play baseball in a hospital, Chuck. You sure you're feeling okay?"
"I mean the book is set in World War II with military characters. I doubt there's much baseball in it."
"I think I'll survive a book without baseball in it, Chuck, thanks for the concern." Don's tone was sarcastic, to say the least. "Go on, check to make sure the surgery didn't damage your super-brain." Don nodded towards the Rubik's cube before cracking the book open to about halfway through and concentrating on the written words.
Charlie bit down a sigh and got down to the puzzle – the multi-coloured toy had always entranced him with the number of permutations possible, the number of solutions and the various ways to arrive there and he almost opened his mouth to share the knowledge with his brother when a quick glance to his left confirmed that Don was deeply engrossed (who would've thought?) in his book and probably wouldn't welcome the interruption.
On any given day, the Rubik's Cube would have distracted him for fifteen minutes at least but today, perhaps due to the unfamiliar, sterile surroundings, the toy fell loose from his grip within five minutes. He took to staring out the permanently sealed window wistfully and in his preoccupied state didn't notice that his sighs had increased in number and effectiveness with a vengeance.
"Charlie," grit out Don finally. "What's up?"
Charlie turned to look at his brother, broken out of his stupor. "Huh? Oh, nothing. Just… feel like going outside, that's all."
Don couldn't believe his ears. "When you're at home, Mom has to force you outside to get some air and now that you finally have an excuse to remain inside, you want to go out?"
"If you give me a blackboard, I wouldn't mind staying here maybe," countered Charlie.
"Uh uh, no way, you're not talking me into giving you anything to write with – Mom was very specific when she said no math until you're discharged from the hospital at least."
"So if I can't have math, can't I go outside?" implored Charlie.
Don considered this. "I don't know Charlie, you just had surgery buddy. You're missing an appendix. Use the time now to mourn for it."
"But-" Whatever Charlie had begun to say in argument was interrupted by the door to the room swinging open again, this time letting in a broad-shouldered man who would've looked better suited in a football uniform than a doctor's lab coat.
"Hey Charlie," Dr. Mason greeted before nodding a hello to Don who'd met him yesterday, before Charlie's surgery. "Mrs Eppes gone home today?"
"She'll drop by in a few hours; she had to go into work."
"No worries," the doctor murmured before turning his entire attention on Charlie. After checking on the stitches by manoeuvring the hospital-issue gown and peeking under the dressing, he subjected Charlie to a litany of questions much like Nurse Kathy had. All Don could remember from it was that it seemed Charlie had answered "No" and "Yes" in the appropriate places necessary for a quick discharge.
"Okay Charlie, looks good from what I can see. We'll keep you here until either one of your parents come, that'll give us time to monitor you for a few hours more, and if we can work out an adequate home recovery plan, you might just get out of here tonight." Dr Mason smirked at the crestfallen look on Charlie's face at the extended stay in hospital and patted his patient's blanketed leg before making an exit.
"Not until tonight?" moaned Charlie to Don when they were alone once again.
"You'll be home before you know it, buddy. But first off, are you sure you didn't give the doctor the answers he would want to hear to get of out hospital?" Don asked suspiciously.
"No!" came the prompt rebuttal from an indignant-yet-slightly-guilty-looking Charlie.
"Uh huh." Don sounded as though he was still suspicious but let it slide. He took up Catch-22 again.
"Don?" said the quiet voice after a moment.
"Um hmm?"
"Can't we go outside? Just for a little bit?"
Don mulled over the suggestion. Charlie was using the tone of voice, and look, that the big brother in him always had trouble disagreeing with. "How about a deal?"
Charlie nodded emphatically. A deal sounded like he was getting somewhere.
"If, and only if, the doctor gives the thumbs up and you don't tell Mom. Got it?" Don had hardly finished speaking when Charlie began nodding his head again in agreement, causing Don to wonder if he could've added a few more conditions to the list, such as Charlie doing Don's share of the chores for a week when he got better. "Alright. I'll go ask."
Don put his book down on Charlie's bed and left the room quickly in hopes of catching the doctor before he vamoosed into another patient's room. Bored and restless, a dangerous combination in the young genius, Charlie reached forward a tiny bit and grabbed the book. He opened it up at a random point and only read a few words when he started to wonder if perhaps the drugs or the surgery had affected either his eyes or his brain somewhat – what else would explain the page in front of him having a character whose name was Major Major Major Major?
Putting down the book before it led to other strange discoveries about himself, Charlie started scratching the skin under the tape holding the IV in place in the back of his hand.
Charlie didn't do boredom.
Looking up hopefully when the door to his room swung open again, he could have crowed with delight when a wheelchair preceded the advent of Nurse Kathy and Don into the room – he was going outside!
"I have to say you boys must be of a stubborn lot – normally, patients just like to lie in bed with an IV full of happy drugs," Kathy commented as she took Charlie's right hand and gently slid the IV tube out but kept the catheter in place, putting a piece of tape over the opening.
"That's my brother for you," replied Don and when Charlie looked up at him indignantly, lightly sing-song-ed so only his brother could hear, "Charlie, Charlie, quite contrary," causing Charlie to pick up the Rubik's cube and toss it Don's way who caught it easily with a grin on his face at the reaction he caused.
"So, Charlie, ready to get up?"
"Yes!"
"Alright, I hear ya. Don, could you bring the wheelchair over here please? And no argument from you, mister, wheelchair's a must" warned Kathy when Charlie opened his mouth the 'suggest' something else. She put down the bed rail and carefully had Charlie sit up and then stand.
As soon as Charlie put his feet on the ground and found himself fully vertical, he was extremely grateful the wheelchair was right there in which he immediately crashed, putting his head down a bit as the stitches in his side gave a sharp twang. After a moment, he noticed the weight and warmth of a hand on his shoulder.
Expecting it to be the nurse, he was surprised when opening his eyes revealed, for the second time that morning, Don - crouched in front of the wheelchair, hovering in Charlie's line of sight, this time concern filling his features. The hand on his shoulder, as it turned out, was also Don's.
"You sure you want to do this now, buddy? There's no hurry." Don offered a way out.
"I'm fine – just took me by surprise, that's all."
"Nah, our man Charlie's just getting used to being up and about after almost two straight days in bed, isn't that right Charlie?" offered Kathy.
"Right," agreed Charlie quickly because he could see his brother's resolve wavering.
"Let's go then, fellas." With that, Kathy went behind the wheelchair and started pushing. When they reached the elevator, she pressed the button for down and moved to the side, offering the controls to Don.
"You two will be fine on your own?" Both boys had to stifle the urge to roll their eyes.
"Yeah, we'll be fine," assured Don, covertly giving Charlie a small poke in the shoulder.
"Alright. They'll be nurses here and there in the hospital garden should you need anything. I'll see you back up here in half-an-hour, right?"
Don's agreement was lost in Charlie's exclamation of "Only half an hour?!" He needed more time to even complete his English homework, let alone enjoy being outside for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Thirty minutes weren't enough!
"Yes, mister, only half-an-hour. Dr Mason originally only gave you fifteen minutes but your brother here tried to work his magic, so you got thirty," informed Kathy. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "Now enjoy and don't be late."
Signs for the hospital garden easily guided the Eppes brothers to the correct location in the massive hospital and as they neared, automatic doors slid open to allow Don to push the wheel-chair through easily.
Charlie took a deep breath as soon as they crossed the threshold, inhaling the fresh air and appreciating it as he'd never appreciated it before.
He was outside – hallelujah.
It was three days later and Charlie was perched in a garden chair next to the koi pond. He was supposed to be reading the latest issue of Time Magazine (since it contained no mathematics, according to his mother and Charlie wisely did not mention that he could find numbers everywhere) but hidden in-between the folds of the magazine was Men of Mathematics – a gift from Don who'd slipped it to Charlie when their mother wasn't looking.
Normally, Margaret was very accepting and embracing of Charlie's abilities but after discovering that the reason Charlie hadn't mentioned his constant stomach pains, resulting in the appendicitis getting worse than it should've, because he'd been caught up in a problem, math had become the enemy for the time being.
Thinking about how his mother was still on the war-path concerning Charlie doing anything math-related while he was recovering, he was reminded of the conversation he'd had with his brother in the hospital gardens the day after his surgery:
After roaming the vast hospital gardens with tracks specifically laid out for easy navigation with wheelchairs, Don took Charlie near a bench and after seating himself on it, put the brakes on the wheelchair, taking care to make sure Charlie was positioned in such a way that he was able to look out on to the garden and not simply Don.
Charlie took in the sight greedily – as the day was quite beautiful and the summer sun shone through a nearly cloudless sky, many patients were taking advantage of the fact, as Charlie himself had. Like him, most were in wheelchairs but they usually tended to be much older in age, especially those who were long-term patients, battling disease or trauma injuries.
"Hey, what day is it today?" asked Charlie suddenly.
"Saturday," replied Don.
"Isn't today the 31st?"
"Yup. And before you ask, it's still 1988; you've haven't done a Rip Wan Winkle in hospital bro."
Charlie ignored the tease as he remembered something important. "Weren't you supposed to drive up to Six Flags today with all your friends?"
"Yeah. Which reminds me, everybody was wishing you a Get Well Soon and all that jazz. Even Val."
Charlie waved away the mention even though earlier on he would have appreciated the thought on her part. He still quite hadn't forgiven his brother for asking out Val to the prom but that didn't matter at the moment.
"You guys have been planning the trip since graduation," said Charlie, getting worked up at the thought that his brother yet again had to miss something because of him, even though his genius had nothing to do with it this time. "It's early yet, you can still catch them before they get too far. Seriously, you should go, I'll be fine here."
"Charlie," said Don with a laugh. "Calm down. We postponed the trip – my car's in the shop and Matt's sister commandeered his for a work emergency, we didn't have any way of getting there. Don't worry about it."
Something was telling Charlie that Don was leaving out some information but before he could prod further but his brother's last words made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to speak further on the subject. Charlie bit down his desire to question Don further and looking forward, watched two old men in wheelchairs play chess.
Charlie was shaken back into present time when he saw a person-shaped shadow fall on the pages of his contraband book and hurriedly tried to cover it with Time Magazine, knowing that if he got caught it would be both the brother's asses. He breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to be a woman other than their mother coming over to him – Val.
"Hey Charlie, how you doing?" she asked, dragging a garden chair over and sitting down next to her former class-mate.
"Hey Val," said Charlie, suddenly aware of his state of dress in the sense that it was hardly James Bond attire. Damn. "Wh-What are you doing here?" Oh, smooth, Charlie scolded himself in his thoughts.
"Came to see you, of course," said Val cheerfully. "People don't get cut open everyday, now do they? Although I suppose I shouldn't talk like that considering I plan on becoming a doctor. Remind me to pester you with details of your experience once you're more up and about."
"Anytime"
"Oh, which reminds me," said Val distractedly as she took her large hand-bag and dug around in it, before finally pulling out something. "Here, I got this for ya over the weekend. Don mentioned you've suddenly become a big fan of enjoying the fresh air since your hospital trip, this makes a strangely appropriate Get Well present – won't want you getting a sun stroke on top of everything, now would we?"
Charlie took the blue cap offered to him and ran his fingers over the Six Flag logo embroidered on the front.
"I thought the Six Flags trip was cancelled? Don spent that day keeping me company in hospital…?" Charlie asked softly, keeping his eyes on the cap in his lap. He'd assumed the only reason why his brother would have done hospital duty for him was if he'd been forced to by their parents, and at the same time would have resented Charlie for taking up more of their parent's attention, away from Don.
"No no, the trip wasn't cancelled; we'd already bought the tickets," Val said, a slight frown creasing her features now. "Don called up in the morning and said we should go without him, he wanted to spend some time with you while you were in hospital." Val smiled. "Wanted make sure you 'didn't get bored and kill yourself' were his exact words I think, but you know Don, you never get the straight truth out of him."
"Yeah," agreed Charlie softly, a smile spreading over his lips as the air around him suddenly lightened and the day seemed to somehow become brighter, ever better than when he'd been allowed outside for the first time the day after surgery.
Khatum
The title comes from a stastic I read somewhere that one in eight people have their appendix removed over the course of their lifetime, although that's probably changed by now. All relevant medical knowledge came from having to visit a cousin in hospital a few weeks ago who had his appendix removed - his was done laser so I supposed in 1988 they still went the scalpel route...
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