2. Half-Asked

Music Selection: "Us" (Regina Spektor)

Hospitals always smelled odd. This one smelled like a pungent mixture of heavy-duty bleach and the TV dinners Charlie (often unsuccessfully) made in his apartment.

Schroeder quietly led him up a few floors, and watching his familiarity, Charlie continued to feel guilty about the entire thing. They stopped in front of Lucy's door.

"Wait here," Schroeder told him. "Surprises aren't very good for her."

Charlie shrugged. "Whatever you think is best."

Schroeder returned a moment later, his hands shoved in his pockets. "I told her that I brought a mutual friend, but I didn't say who."

"But I thought you said surprises were bad?"

"The 'I brought someone' part is enough to prepare her, I think," Schroeder chuckled. "She's sick, not boring. I'll give you two a few minutes to catch up."

Here goes, Charlie thought as he stepped through the door. He suddenly realized that he'd forgotten to ask if anyone else was there.

He kept his face frozen to a friendly smile as he walked over to the bed.

"Well," Lucy surmised with a smirk. "If it isn't good 'ol Charlie Brown."

"Hey, Lucy," Charlie answered shyly. The room was sunny enough, the windows and pastel-hued walls working together to cast a cheery glow over everything. Lucy was propped up in bed, clear IV tubes taped to her hand and arm, a nasal cannula doing its job without scaring Charlie too much. A heart monitor chimed quietly in the background, but he'd already made an effort to tune it out.

Once he'd gotten used to the medical intrusiveness—where he thought he'd be disturbed— he took a look at his old friend. Lucy was stiller and paler than he'd remembered, and her dark hair much longer. He could ignore wires, drips, and beeps, but it was hard to ignore the fact that Lucy looked like she was fading.

But she had clearly had enough of his examination, and rolled her eyes. "What the hell are you wearing?" Her voice was thin and reedy, but her intent was clear. She expected an explanation or two, and he resolved that he wasn't going to disappoint her.

Charlie flopped down in the seat next to the bed. "A suit," he disclosed dumbly.

Lucy blinked, unfazed. "And why are you wearing a suit?"

"Be-cause-I-work-in-an-office," he slowly asserted, purposely annoying her by clipping his words. "Office people wear suits."

"Boring people work in offices," she countered, folding her arms, careful not to tangle the various wires and tubes. Her familiarity with the situation was jarring, and it scared him.

"Well," he considered, leaning on his elbows on the bed to get a little closer, "it's a good thing I've never denied the fact that I am, indeed, a boring person."

"Oooh, and sarcastic," Lucy snickered, but Charlie didn't like the way her laugh sounded. "I wouldn't expect anything less," she sighed, taking his hand.

It was good to be alone with her for a moment, but her gentleness frightened him. "How are you, Lucy? Really."

She looked down and made a face. "I'm here, aren't I?" she said matter-of-factly, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes.

"Lucy," Charlie started, "I swear, if I had known—"

"Nope. Not doing that," she sassed without looking him in the eyes. "It is what it is."

He raised an eyebrow, distressed. "You're just going to let it go? I haven't seen you in years, and you're not going to let me have it?"

Charlie's eyes stung out of guilt, but mostly out of alarm. Lucy's calmness baffled and frightened him more than anything else he'd seen and heard lately—and that included hearing that his baby sister was getting married and that he'd somehow missed one of his oldest friends going through medical hell.

Lucy just shrugged. "Grudges are a waste of time. I like them, but not enough to make everyone stay away. Then I'd be bored," she admitted with a grin, and she finally turned and looked at him. "I'm not quite egotistical enough to think that I can always amuse myself. That's why you're here."

Now she was just being ridiculous. "I thought we just established that I'm boring?" he sniffled, his words pitching up towards the end.

He wasn't going to cry. Nope, nope. He was going to hold it together, because Lucy was going to kick him out if he cried (or maybe kick him), and then he'd feel worse, and he wouldn't get to see her, and ouch.

"Well, yeah," she accused, ignoring the fact that his control over his emotions was all over the place. "But your life is more interesting than mine at the moment, so spill."

Once he'd gotten a hold of himself (which he mostly believed he did without any visible disturbance or transition), he told her everything that had been going on in his life. He found it easy to slip back into their old back-and-forth, regaling her with tales of the subway and the office. She'd chime in every now in then with a jibe or a sneer, but he hadn't felt so important in years.

"While I'm excited to hear something new," Lucy concluded, tilting her head to the side, "I feel like I actually need to see your world to picture it."

"You can, any time," Charlie offered hastily, preparing himself to ignore whatever she said next if it was morbid.

Lucy didn't say anything.

"What?" He'd never been able to astonish her before, and highly doubted he'd managed to do it now.

"Everyone's been… wonderful," she started, serious again. "Someone's always here when I want them to be, and they leave me alone when I want that instead. I'm not lonely, or scared, really. But," she went on. "Everyone's so careful about what they say around me. Like, they're afraid if I start to hope or plan… it'll kill me faster." Lucy sounded tired, and he couldn't tell if it was because she was physically or emotionally drained.

"Lucy…"

"No, I mean it," she interrupted with a laugh. "Linus looked terrified when I tried to plan what we were eating for dinner one night last week when I was home. But thank you, Charlie."

"For what?"

"Letting me dream for a bit," she whispered in a tinny way he was unused to hearing from her. "I appreciate it."

He put his hand on top of hers. "Of course."

A sudden rustle of sneakers turned their attention to the door. "Lucy," Sally blurted, talking faster than the room's echo could catch, "I wanted to run this idea for flower arrangements by you. I know that certain flowers mean certain things, but does that mean that I can't have yellow roses? Because I really like yellow roses, but I read that they mean…" she caught herself as Charlie stood to greet her. "…friendship!" she gasped.

She flung her arms around him and he caught her just in time. For the very first time since he got off the train, Charlie felt like he'd made the right decision in coming.

Sally bounced back to a standing position. "Big Brother! I can't tell you how happy I am to see you! I had no idea you were coming." She was wearing a set of bright purple scrubs, and he deduced that she'd just come from work. Did she work at this hospital now? He couldn't remember, and his cheeks burned.

"He and Schroeder were in cahoots," Lucy disclosed. Sally's endless energy made Lucy seem even weaker.

"How long are you here?" Sally queried, shimmying around him to take his place in the chair.

"The weekend."

In a single scanning look, Sally seemed to analyze Lucy's state and stamina. "Then I'm going to take a few minutes here for girl talk," she said with a wink in Charlie's direction. "We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

"Sure thing. I'll be back, then, Lucy."

"You better be, blockhead," Lucy chided, and her smile made him feel a bit better.

As he turned to leave, Sally grabbed his hand and squeezed it, making sure their eyes met. She was reminding him of her sincerity, and he appreciated that. They'd always been able to communicate with a look, and he was relieved that hadn't changed. "Charlie. I am really glad you're here."

He grinned back at her. "Me too," he agreed gently, dropping her hand.

Charlie Brown's little sister had grown into a pretty young woman inside and out, he thought as he walked into the hallway. Sally had a caring (if slightly misguided) curiosity about her that made her a kind and alert person, and evidently, an excellent nurse. Every time he saw her, he found himself grateful for her innocence—he'd encountered many guys who would try to take advantage of such a wide-eyed, naive girl, and he trusted that she could take care of herself through simple ignorance. He was so proud of her accomplishments, and made a vow in that moment to tell her more often.

He was just starting to wonder where Schroeder had gone off to when he saw his pianist friend round the corner—with Linus, who didn't look very pleased to see him.

"Hi, Linus," he greeted.

"Hi," Linus answered bruskly, not meeting his eyes and walking right by him to Lucy's door.

Charlie went to follow him, and Schroeder hung back by the vending machine in the corner. Schroeder seemed to droop, his shoulders hanging forward.

"Um, Sally's in there with her right now. She said that they were doing girl talk? Whatever that is?" Charlie offered, trailing off with a high-pitched nervous laugh.

Linus seemed to freeze. Charlie Brown immediately searched Schroeder, who seemed very interested in the vending machine, for some sort of answer. Help. Please. Help.

"'Girl Talk' means wedding planning. For my wedding," Linus grumbled, finally turning to face him.

Schroeder made some sort of unreadable gesture with his partially unwrapped Twix bar, and Charlie just shrugged in surrender. "Yeah, to my sister. Uh, congrats about that, by the way," he interjected, stepping closer to Linus.

Schroeder slapped his hand to his head.

"For getting engaged and getting married. Y'know," Charlie grinned stupidly.

Linus ignored him and marched into Lucy's hospital room.

Charlie turned back to Schroeder and made a popping noise with his mouth. "Welp," he reasoned, popping the 'P' for emphasis. "That could have been much worse."

Schroeder broke into a series of cackles and snickers, all of which offended Charlie. "Yeah, well," Schroeder piped, holding his stomach, "it could have gone a lot better!"

"I swear. I thought you were saying that I should make small talk or something!" Charlie pointed out later when they were back in Schroeder's car, nearly at Charlie's parents' place. The ragtime music was back on again, and it was starting to get on Charlie's nerves. "Actually, that's a lie. I had no idea what you were saying at all. Do me a favor, and never, ever become an aircraft marshal. All the planes would crash."

"Yeah, well," Schroeder conceded bitterly. "Maybe you just can't read the signals."

"Stick to piano, buddy."

Schroeder grunted. "I was trying to tell you to let him have his space. He's not taking all of this very well."

"Which part?" Charlie turned off the music in a huff. "The Lucy part, or the part where he's marrying my sister in a little more than a month? Because I understand the Lucy part. I do. But if his attitude has anything to do with my sister—"

"Calm down," Schroeder muttered, looking forlornly at the knobs that controlled his music. "It's a lot of things. I know you've got a lot of feelings right now, but…"

Charlie stared at him. "Please don't give me a puberty talk," he said darkly. "I already went through that."

Schroeder made a displeased sound somewhere between a gasp and a grunt, and quickly pulled over. "We're all dealing with this," he snapped. "All of us. And the sooner you idiots figure that out, the better. This isn't about who has been around the most, or who is the most concerned. This involves everyone. You, me, Linus, Rerun, Sally… Patty, Marcie, Violet, Franklin, Pig-Pen, Frieda, everyone. But mostly Lucy. We need to make everything about Lucy right now. Because she's spending so much time putting on a brave face for everyone. Or actually being brave, because it's Lucy, and who the hell knows what's actually going on in her head."

Several cars went by. They were just outside of their old neighborhood now, and Charlie felt Schroeder's unsaid warning: Don't go in there if you're going to hurt things, Charlie.

"Are you done?" Charlie finally asked.

"Yeah," Schroeder confirmed unconvincingly. "I'm done."

Something suddenly occurred to Charlie, and he struggled with himself as he tried to find the right words. "Are you okay, Schroeder? Has anyone asked you if you're okay?"

Schroeder closed his eyes and tilted his head. "Not really. No, Charlie Brown, I'm not okay. I haven't always been honest with everyone, Lucy most of all. I haven't always been… kind," he said darkly.

Charlie pondered this. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well…"

"And you're not wrong," he finally considered, "about this being about all of us. It's just hard."

"You can't pretend that you're back now and that things are suddenly okay," Schroeder told him softly. "You've been gone a long time, Charlie Brown. And I'm glad you're back now, don't get me wrong," he added when he saw a look of alarm on Charlie's face. "But you're going to have to work harder to repair things. We've all had some time to adjust to things, and you haven't."

Charlie folded his arms. "Why is Linus so angry with me?"

"I don't really know, Charlie," he acknowledged. "I don't know."

They let out a sigh in unison, sparking a burst of nervous laughter.

"Can I go home now?" Charlie asked in a childish voice.

Schroeder snorted and turned the key in the ignition. "Yes. You can go home now."

The engagement party was in his backyard, which really shouldn't have been a big surprise. Speaking of surprises, his appearance at the party had been spoiled for everyone but Linus, Sally, and Lucy, courtesy of Schroeder's big mouth. His parents had his room ready for him when he got home, and tried to make a big fuss for all of five minutes before his father admitted that Schroeder had spilled just after he'd called for a ride. They seemed to be taking Sally's impending nuptials rather well, which just made Charlie feel even worse.

"I thought having it out here was fitting," Sally explained with a shrug as she held out a hand to steady herself. "This is where we had all our parties back in the day."

Charlie shuddered. "Parties you were too young to go to." They were standing on chairs, hanging up white lanterns in the trees. So far, Charlie had mostly been successful, only getting his hand caught in what he'd dubbed "The Kite Eating Tree" once when he wasn't paying proper attention.

"Yeah, well… We lucked out that our parents didn't care what we did as long as we were home," Sally laughed, hopping off of the chair as she gently arranged the last lantern so it wouldn't smack anyone in the face if they walked under it.

"Even if that meant we hosted all the time," Charlie laughed as he also finished. "But I think this party is slightly classier."

"Because we're actually old enough to drink?"

"No," Charlie observed, holding up a package of plastic cups. "Because the cups are white instead of red. It's classier."

It was true. For a well-respected Christian family, his parents were surprisingly loose about things like alcohol and parties, but had their own rule: there needed to be no lasting consequences. No drunken teenagers passed out in the yard, no overfilled trash cans, no visits from the cops. Everyone had to be gone and everything had to be cleaned up by the time Mrs. Brown started breakfast at 7, and Charlie and Sally were expected to be fully alert and participatory at church.

The Browns only let their children attend parties at their own home, so they almost always hosted. Their house was always the Saturday night hotspot, and everyone knew it. Even Franklin—whose father was a police officer—came with full parental support. The general neighborhood consensus was that things were contained and the kids were forced to think about any and all potential penalties, so it was the best way for them to have fun without getting into any trouble.

Backwards? Yes. Effective? Yes.

"Oh, yes," Sally echoed. "Much classier."

It was nice to see Sally smile. When Charlie had left home, she was still in high school, and was going through a dramatic phase that involved lots of slamming doors.

"I hate that you're prepping for your own party," he confessed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Sally pulled out a camera and snapped a few pictures of the area. "I don't mind. Lucy was very detailed in what she wanted to see, and I had to make sure that I followed her plans exactly. I hate that she can't be here," his sister sighed. "She hadn't had any problems for weeks, and then they decided to admit her after her appointment on Monday because her meds aren't working as well as they'd like. So I have to get 'before and after' pictures to show her that I followed her plans. Remind me to take the 'after' later when I'm drunk."

Charlie covered his face with his hands. "I'm still not used to hearing that."

"Oh, c'mon," she mocked, punching him in the shoulder. "You're just not used to me being of age. You used to see me drink all the time."

Goodness, the guilt was piling on. In the past few hours, he'd irritated nearly everyone he'd come in contact with for past and present wrongs. Recalling his teenage exploits—which were numerous and often involved copious amounts of alcohol, often in his own backyard— wasn't exactly his idea of a great time.

"I think I win the bad brother award," he said quietly.

Sally frowned. "Why do you say that?"

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder as his slumped in defeat. "Because you've been through a lot and I haven't been there. And when I was physically present, I wasn't very attentive."

Sally still looked unhappy. She took a step back. "None of… this," she told him, motioning to the backyard party setup, "has anything to do with you. Lucy… isn't a hundred percent these days, Charlie," and it hurt him a bit to hear her say it with that sad smile, "and I'm in love."

They sat down at Snoopy's doghouse, resting their backs against the worn red wood. It was empty, now; the beagle passed away shortly before Charlie graduated from high school. He often thought fondly of his old buddy, musing on carefree times gone by.

"I think I always knew I'd end up with Linus," Sally admitted. "I just thought it would be later, in its own time. And when Lucy first got sick, Linus needed some support. He came to me, and I can't say I didn't welcome that, as bad as that sounds. You know how I like to take care of people."

"I do."

She bit her lip. "I don't mean to imply that I was taking advantage of a sad situation only that…"

Charlie put an arm around her. "I get it. Everyone wants to be needed."

"Exactly. And for a while," she continued, "it looked like things were going to be okay. Lucy was on medications that helped her regulate things, and Linus and I were happy. But…"

She took a breath. This was clearly hard for her, and Charlie felt bad for making her think she had to justify everything to him, and worse that it was exactly what he expected when he decided to make this trip.

"When Lucy's condition got… more unpredictable, we decided to speed things up. Lucy brought us closer, we thought, and it was so important to us that she be involved in the wedding. She's my maid of honor, you know," Sally finished with a smile.

He didn't say anything for a moment, just letting it wash over. "I wasn't there for any of that," he marveled. "None of it. Not for Linus, or Lucy, or you…"

Sally took his hands. "You don't need to feel bad for any of that. Nothing. I've never seen you looking and sounding so well, Big Brother. Don't punish yourself for being happy. You are allowed to be happy."

He pulled away. "I'm not punishing myself."

"You sure sound like you are," she hypothesized, tilting her head.

"I missed all the important things," he said. "I don't feel guilty for living my own life, but… I chose to live it at the cost of cutting ties with everyone here. I've behaved badly."

I'm an awful person, Charlie thought. He'd only come to this stupid party because he wanted Sally and Linus to justify their speedy engagement, and now he saw how horrible that was. He'd been so selfish.

"You live and you learn," Sally quipped, and her brother laughed.

"When did you become so wise?" He kissed her cheek.

Sally crossed her arms. "I've always been wise. You… and everyone else… just didn't notice. That, and I finally found my calling. Nursing is easy! You just need to be nice to people. Well, and then there's all the medical stuff."

Charlie snorted. "I think that part is slightly important."

"It's all really logical. You don't need to think too hard. Everything has a procedure, and I like that. It's the one thing I've never felt myself doing half-asked." She started to stand up.

"Wait," Charlie laughed, catching her elbow. "'Half-asked?"

"Y'know, how I used to be in school? I did half of what they asked me. Half-asked. I don't do that anymore."

He stood up, trying to regain some composure and failing. "Sally, I hate to tell you this, but it's half-assed, and I'm pretty sure you've been saying it wrong your entire life."

A/N: I'd love to hear from you in a comment- even just a word or two. Thank you to everyone who has supported this so far!