Disclaimer Continues. Much like the story…
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Chapter 14
RECLAMATION…
Thinking it was the least they could do after causing so much trouble, Megan, David, Larry and Amita successfully distracted the students while Colby and Alan retrieved the bags, then continued on to make a wide circle of the concourse. It was almost half-an-hour before they found the chairs Don and Charlie were waiting in again.
During that time, Alan had reminded himself how much Colby had done for this family; for him, personally. The agent had only brought one other person with him, and David was his partner. Alan had watched Don be a cop long enough to respect that there was a special bond between partners. He found himself apologizing to the silent man. "Colby, you know how much I appreciate all you've done. It's been a rough few days, and I just wasn't ready to see everybody…" He even chuckled, a little. "Hear that? I wasn't ready to see everybody. Maybe I haven't been protecting Charlie as much as I thought."
Colby reassured him. "No, Alan, you did what you had to. Don't worry about it. We all feel pretty stupid about it now, anyway….You were the only one truly thinking of Charlie. The rest of us were thinking of ourselves."
Alan sighed. "Let's just move on. No real harm was done. The boys are around the next corner, I think — I'm a little turned around."
Turned around or not, his fatherly instincts were correct. He and Colby turned another corner and both slowed their steps automatically. Don and Charlie sat side-by-side on a bank of attached chairs facing the corridor. Charlie was slumped against his brother, head lolling on Don's shoulder. He was obviously asleep. Alan smiled. "That may be the most comfortable position he's slept in for months. He tends to climb out of bed and crawl into the corner of the room to sleep sitting up, still."
Colby shook his head, shocked at the story and at Charlie's appearance. "Damn. How much weight did he lose?"
Alan picked up he pace a little. "That reminds me. On the way home, if it's all right, I'd like to stop at a market. I need to find a nice brisket."
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Charlie followed in a fog, once awakened. Colby had offered to bring the car into the loading zone, but Charlie insisted he could make the walk. He just wanted to get away from the building, cut down on sensory input for a while. He stumbled through the lots, surprised at his own exhaustion. It was as if his body sensed a safety in the nearness of "home", and finally relaxed.
He stumbled again, and bumped into Colby on the left. The agent easily draped an arm over Charlie's thin frame. "Whiz Kid…you sure you're up for this? I could still go get the car?"
No-one was more surprised than Charlie when he suddenly put on the brakes and turned to the taller man beside him. He threw his arms around the broad shoulders, and embraced him quickly, but with a fierceness that took Colby's breath away. Charlie sprang back as quickly as he has assaulted. "Thank-you," he said, understanding as he heard his own quiet voice how imperfect words were. "I'll never forget what you did. Never." The emotion of the moment combined with all of the day's other emotions, and Charlie whirled in the other direction. Alan flanked him on the other side, and Charlie looked up at him with a quiet desperation that tore at his heart. Charlie's voice hitched and his eyes suddenly swam with tears. "God….I'm so tired…."
Alan dropped the duffle he was carrying to the pavement, and wrapped his arms around his son. For the first time since he had been released, Charlie leaned heavily into him and sobbed, his shoulders shaking beneath his father's hands. Alan moved one hand to the back of Charlie's head, and the other extended out into the night air to grab his oldest son. Don dropped his own bag, and moved to encircle both his father and his brother, a hand on each back.
Tears stung unbidden at Colby's own eyes as he witnessed the scene and then forced himself to turn away and start walking. Son of a freakin' bitch, he thought, sneaking a hand up to wipe at his face. I'm going after the damn car.
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Charlie fell asleep again immediately, once deposited in the back seat of Colby's car. He slept with his head against the window all the way home; even through Alan's dash into a supermarket. Don couldn't seem to raise him past a daze when they reached the Craftsman-style home. Charlie allowed himself to be led into the warm living room.
Colby had helped carry the bags in from the car, but he didn't want to intrude on Charlie's homecoming any more that he already had. He quickly said his "good-nights" and exited the house.
While Don and Charlie stood in the living room, Alan pushed past them toward the kitchen. Don started to protest. "Dad, it's one in the morning!"
Alan waved a hand in the air without looking back. "Just let me get the meat in a nice marinade. You'll thank me tomorrow."
Don felt Charlie sway a little beside him. "Time for bed, Buddy." To his utter surprise, Charlie automatically started for a corner of the living room, behind the television. Don grabbed his arm, as gently as he could, and pointed him toward the couch. "I'm a little wired, myself. I think I'll sit down here, a while. Stay and keep me company?"
Charlie sat heavily on the end of the couch. He was staring at Don through half-mast eyes, when Don took a seat in the recliner facing him. "I know what you're doing," he slurred. "Not that brain-dead, yet."
Don raised an eyebrow. "What am I doing?"
Charlie's answer was comically accusatory as he slouched into the corner of the couch. "You're loving me, again."
Don laughed, and before he thought better of it, he pulled one of the small pillows out from behind his back and threw it at Charlie. "I guess I've been accused of worse things."
Charlie smiled sleepily and easily caught the pillow. He clutched it on his lap and let his head fall back on the couch, eyes closing.
Five minutes later, brisket safely marinating in the recipe both sons liked so well, Alan pushed his way out of the kitchen. In the dim glow of the single lamp that was lit in the living room, he saw that they were both asleep. Don reclined back in the chair, softly snoring, and Charlie slumped in a half-and-half position on the couch. Alan smiled, and quietly walked to the closet under the stairs. He took out two blankets, and slipped off his shoes. He padded in his socks back to the living room, and covered each of them. He tried to take special care not to wake or startle Charlie, but he could not stop himself, as he crossed behind the couch, from lightly touching his youngest's hair.
When he had covered them both, Alan stood between the couch and the chair, and gazed over into the dining room, at the portrait of Margaret that hung on the wall. A single tear rolled down his cheek, unchecked, and he looked next at the ceiling. Then he stretched out his hands, one indicating each son, and did what he had done every night since Margaret had first given him Don. He closed his eyes, and whispered: "Ye'simcha Elohim ke-Ephraom ve'chi-Menashe. Ye'varech'echa Adonoy ve-yish'merecha. Ya'eir Adonoy panav eilecha viy-chuneka. Yisa Adonoy panav eilecha, ve-yaseim lecha shalom."
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Jewish blessing offered for a son: "May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe. May God bless you and watch over you. May God shine His face toward you, and show you favor. May God be favorably disposed toward you, and may He grant you peace."