Imperfect

By Sylvia M. Bartlett

Aka Hemel Lass(ie) aka LadyLochinvar aka Hornetlady(SBM)

Part One: Moments That Make You Go 'Hmmm'

"I – I have to have some tests." Charlie stumbled over his explanation, rubbing his forehead wearily, blearily.

Don felt the fear slam into his heart like the Amtrak train had hit an SUV recently and wiped out 6 family members. This was his own train wreck and the pain and the closeness to the other event was illuminating and probably exponentially increasing the degree of panic he felt. Tests.

Charlie had suffered through a sudden spate of severe, severe headaches that had induced nausea and vomiting severe enough to make Charlie who rarely took sick days to call in sick to Cal Sci and apparently stayed in the bathroom, close to the porcelain God. He hadn't called and told Don what was going on, but the older brother Spidey sense must have been working, because the third day in to Charlie's illness, he had suddenly handed the case he and his team were working over to be temporarily covered by his team. He had just KNOWN he needed to go by the Craftsman and check on Charlie. Good thing he had listened to that tingling sense something was amiss because he had found Charlie collapsed on the floor of the bathroom closest to his bedroom, semi-conscious on the floor in the Craftsman house he owned, because he was in 'shock'.

Their dad was out of town on a business trip; Amita was off doing something with, and for, Mildred Finch; and, even Larry, recently back from outer space, was busy trying to 'decompress and return mentally and emotionally to this earthly sphere we call home'.

There had been no back up. No one to fill in the gap of keeping an eye on the mathematical genius who sometimes neglected his physical needs when he was totally engaged in a fascinating, intellectual endeavor.

That the endeavor Charles had been engaged in was a case for Don and the team only increased the degree of guilt and fears his older brother was going through. Charles had said from the start (well, more muttered than said) that the case was an incredibly complex one requiring more brain power than he thought he had left to share.

School was still winding down. This was an intensive time for a professor from the get go and Don had to have results now. His efforts to balance the needs of his profession with the needs of the public, the FBI and Don to get a resolution had been the drain that took Charles to the very brink of death, but NOW?

Come on, Eppes. Do not panic. That is NOT going to help Charlie. Don drew a shaky, but deep breath. Okay. I can do this. I can be the reassuring, supportive big brother.

The words came out of his mouth didn't follow through on that intent though. They came out through trembling lips as he rode the crest of his own emotional tsunami. His distress was evident, and Charles Edward Eppes was, after all, a bona fide genius.

"Don, don't get all in a tizzy. It is probably just a bug that I didn't notice I had. This is my own fault. I got stuck on stupid again. Don't think you asking for my help had anything to do all of this."

"Don't kid a kidder, Chuck, damn it. I pressured you in to helping with this case. You told me you were already overtaxed and exhausted. I played the big brother guilt card, again. That is why this whole thing happened!" Don winced. So much for supportive! He sounded overbearing and angry.

Sighing, he tried to adjust the tack on the main sail. "Charlie, I understand what you are trying to say, but, it's my job to worry about you. Especially when Dad isn't here to do it."

"Don't you dare tell Dad what is going on! With these fires raging and the weather and the possible terrorist threat…because Don, I am certain the three incidents are part of a singularity that is about to go supernova, if we don't track down the perps. With all that is going on? The last thing I want or need is to have Dad come rushing back here all 'red alert'.

"There is something big about to go down here in LA if we don't catch them and stop it. Bob Tompkins has already stated this is an issue of National Security and I am actually on the clock for you AND NSA, at the same time! It's not like I wouldn't be on this situation, even if you hadn't asked me to help."

"Charlie, if I don't call Dad, he is going to be totally pissed off. You are in the HOSPITAL, as an INPATIENT, for God's sake. He won't just get mad, he will go ballistic."

"How many times have I gone along with you when you kept stuff worse than this from our father, Don? YOU OWE ME. Consider this your pay back time. I want Dad to stay safely away from this area, especially until these fires get put out. God, half of the LA basin is burning to the dirt around our ears, Donnie! Cut me a little frickin' me slack." Charlie was yelling and pushing his hands against his temples. An alarm on the monitors keeping track of his medical status began blaring its message that something was amiss with the patient.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Charlie cried out. "Can't someone turn off those damn alarms? That noise is getting on my last remaining nerve!"

As if the request had been anticipated, before it was uttered, a nurse bustled in, running 'Red Alert' herself. "Sorry, Doctor Eppes. We should have set it up so that they only sounded at the nurse's station. " She quickly turned off the audible in the room of the annoying, but necessary alert device.
"Doctor Eppes, you have to calm down. This is not helping that headache of yours…or your overall medical condition. Take some calming breathes!"

Don was totally stunned when the ordinarily well-mannered, gentle, kind hearted Charles did two things at once. Flipped the woman the one bird salute and retorted verbally. "How in the hell am I supposed to calm down with THAT racket? Quit telling me to calm down. It is NOT helping. I am not panicked. I am not going to have a freaking coronary. I just need some quiet and something to calm this pain, BUT NOT KNOCK ME OUT."

"What you need…" Don heard the nurse mutter 'sotto voce', "is about 48 hours of actual rest, but barring that, here's the next, best thing." She was already moving to administer two different meds into the IV port which would run it straight to Charles's system, providing maximum relief, in the minimum amount of time.

"THAT'S NOT GOING TO…" Charlie squeaked in alarm, trying to move to block the drug from reaching his system by pinching the IV closed, but his effort was intercepted and foiled by both Don and the nurse moving beyond Warp 12.

"It isn't going to knock you out. Just reduce some of the pressure in your head and take the edge off your pain." The nurse hastened to explain. "Trust me, please."

Charlie was slumping back against his pillows on the 90 degree raised hospital bed. "I need a basin. Where's the basin?"

Don grabbed the necessary item and put it below his brother's mouth, just before a stream of green bile began emerging.

Between spits after the initial blast of bile, Charlie spoke in a meeker, gentler, apologetic voice. "Um…Celeste? I think you need to add something for nausea. Again…"

Celeste pulled a third loaded syringe. "I come prepared!"

"Thank God for Girl Scouts." Charlie responded, fervently.

"Actually, it's more like thank God for a hotline to heaven, honey!" Celeste began the slow IV push of the needed med while gently coaching Charles to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, slowly.

In spite of the fear clutching Don's heart, he couldn't hold back a grin at the woebegone expression on Charlie's face and the puppy dog eyes he was offering to the nurse, Celeste. "If you have a hotline to heaven, could you ask Adonai to send me a little more help here? I am going down for the third time, I think."

"No, you are not going down for the third time, Buddy." Don said, firmly grabbing Charles's shoulders and giving each a squeeze. "I am right here. Just grab on to me."

Celeste added, with a silvery laugh. "And me, too, honey. What am I, chopped liver?" Seeing Charlie green up a bit again, she gently patted his hand. "Bad choice of metaphors at this particular juncture, wasn't that?"

One corner of Charlie's lips quirked up towards a smile. "uh, yeah, Celeste? Let's skip the food references for awhile, huh????"

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