Title: Shall We Play A Game?

Author: FraidyCat

Disclaimer: remains in effect

My Name is FraidyCat, and I'm a whump-a-holic.

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Chapter Twenty-Five: Idiots

Charlie was having a very bad week.

He had been infected with massive quantities of the bioterroristic bacteria Brucella. His immune system had been further compromised by a probable simultaneous bout of influenza. Complications arose -- as they often did in Charlie's life -- and he ended up with a tube in his chest. Yet more complications arose when the incision created for that tube became infected with both a secondary exposure to Brucella and a slight case of the staph that had run rampant through the hospital when its disinfectant turned out to be nothing more than poisoned water. The hospital had been shut down and evacuated -- and Charlie had been lost not once, but twice, in the ensuing shuffle. He continued to fight pericarditis, and was growing weary of the elephant seated upon his chest. To add insult to all of his injuries, Charlie 's girlfriend had been out of town during most of this. Not only that, his father and his brother were ignoring him. Worse yet, the only visitor that he could see in his room when he awoke -- was his boss. Not even Larry cared about him anymore.

He shifted painfully in the bed and sniffed, feeling sorrier for himself than he ever remembered feeling before. At the movement and sound, Millie glanced up. She was sitting just a few feet from his bed, around which a privacy curtain was pulled. She stuck a finger in her book as a place holder and smiled. "You're looking..." Well, frankly, like road kill, she thought, and rephrased her statement. "You should probably get some more sleep. Visiting hours are almost over anyway." Charlie blinked owlishly a few times and regarded Millie with dark chocolate eyes that were suspiciously moist. He cleared his throat to speak and she sprang to her feet. She dropped the book in the chair she had just vacated and reached for the cup of ice on his bedside table. She scooped a few chips into the plastic spoon and smiled brightly as she offered the ice to Charlie. "Here. This will help."

Charlie opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Millie deposited the ice. He closed his eyes in appreciation and sucked greedily, savoring the trickle of water down his parched throat. He opened his eyes again when Millie asked him if he would like more, and shook his head slightly while he contemplated her sadly. "Are they all mad at me?" he whispered.

Millie's smile faltered. She placed the cup back on the nightstand. "What?" she asked, and that was just the first of the interrogative words she directed his way. "Who? Why?"

Charlie sighed a little and started to lift a hand toward the drainage bag at his chest, but she batted it away as easily as she would a fly. "Everybody," he responded plaintively. "I'm sorry." He let his eyes roam around his cubicle. "Is this all my fault? They're mad at me."

Millie's brow furrowed for a moment and then she interpreted his despair. She raised an eyebrow. "My, my," she started, "aren't you the self-absorbed one? Gonna have to get over that." Charlie's eyes immediately filled with tears and she rolled her own, reaching over the bed rail to pat him awkwardly on the arm. "Nobody's angry, Charlie – don't be an idiot. Everybody was here for hours, but your visitors are...restricted...for a few more days. Your father has had the flu; Colby and Larry are carrying Brucella; Don developed a slight staph infection himself, but he'll probably be the first allowed to see you -- your doctors just want to make sure the infection is no longer...infectious...before they give him the green light. Alan just took everyone back to the Craftsman about half-an-hour ago. They all send their love, and they'll be calling tomorrow when it's easier for you to handle the phone."

Charlie tried to process everything in that speech, but his tired mind wasn't making it easy. "Is 'Mita sick, too?" he finally asked.

Millie had prepared for that question, so she wasn't as caught off-guard as she might have been. "She wasn't feeling well while she and Larry were in Palomar," she answered brusquely, "but she seems to be fine, now. It's probably a precaution, like with Alan -- he feels fine now, too, but he has to wait until his white blood cell count is normal before they let him in." Before Charlie had a chance to think about that any further, she indicated the privacy curtain and lowered her voice a little. "The hospital is pretty crowded, so they couldn't give you a private room; but I know you don't like enclosed places. Would you like me to open this up a little before I go?"

Charlie might not have been entirely sure yet why Millie was his only visitor, but the thought of her disappearing so soon actually made him gasp. "Do you have to go already?" he pleaded, wincing in the painful aftermath of his gasp.

Dr. Finch smiled gently and couldn't help herself -- she reached out to smooth his errant curls. Then, all-business once more, she picked up her book and settled back into the chair. "I'll just sit here until you fall asleep," she offered. "Everything will look better in the morning. Okay?"

Charlie nodded miserably. "Okay," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

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Don lay on his side in his childhood bedroom, facing away from the door. His injured forearm rested largely on the pillow, which also cradled the cell phone close to his ear. Amita was across the hall sleeping in Charlie's bed, his dad was down in his room, and Colby was set-up in the solarium. Don murmured quietly, so as not to wake anyone. "It's not fair," he complained. "You and I have been talking about this for months. Now it's going to look like we're just playing catch-up."

Robin laughed at his petulant tone. "Don, nobody is going to think that. Who cares if they do, anyway?"

Don was not in the mood to be easily appeased. "That's easy for you to say. I've been trying to catch Charlie my whole life -- the only thing that was 'all mine' was baseball -- and for a while, the Bureau -- but now he's in the middle of that, too."

She let careful reproach enter her voice. "I think he might have a different view of who's been chasing who, Don. As far as the Bureau, is he an univited guest there?"

"Not always," he sulked.

Robin sighed. "You're going to have to give this sort of thing up if I agree to have your child. I can only deal with one baby at a time."

In spite of himself, Don laughed. "I just can't believe he didn't even tell me," he confided, and she detected the hurt behind his words.

"I don't think he knew," she comforted, and immediately bit her tongue.

Too late. Don was suspicous. "What does that mean?"

Robin was used to thinking fast on her feet -- or in this case, on her butt, ensconced on her sister's couch. "Didn't you say Amita wasn't feeling well at Palomar, and that both she and Larry stopped at Oceanside for blood tests? I guess I just assumed she just found out."

Don wavered. "Maybe...but would they automatically run a pregnancy test if they were looking for Brucella?"

"Maybe she asked for one?" Robin guessed.

"Hmmpf," Don grunted, not quite ready to make a commitment but sorely tempted to believe his brother would have told him something like this. "Maybe…"

Robin decided it was time to turn the tables. "Don, have you told him how seriously we've been discussing having children? Asked for his opinion, advice?"

Don became slightly defensive. "Look, he'd be the first person I told, when it actually happened. Before Dad, even. Maybe."

Robin tsked. "That's not what I asked. He's an adult now, Don, not just your little brother. It would mean a lot to him if you respected his opinion."

Don shut his eyes in the dark room. "Exactly how did I end up the one in trouble, here?"

She gentled her tone. "You're not in trouble, Don. I'm just suggesting you give Charlie some credit. I'm sure you would be the first person he'd want to talk to, as well. Until you know differently, put your hurt feelings on hold."

Don smiled into the cell. "I hate it when you're right."

"You should be used to it by now," she teased.

"I miss you," Don shared impulsively. "When you get back, I think it's time to stop talking, and get busy." She laughed lightly and he continued before she could protest. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm trying to catch up to Charlie. I want to marry you, Robin, and there's no one I'd rather have as my wife, or as the mother to my Dad's favorite grandchildren."

There was a moment of silence before she answered sadly. "Ah, Don, you almost had me. If only you had mentioned 'love' somewhere in all of that."

Terrified, he sprang up to perch on the edge of the bed. "Of course I love you. I said that already, didn't I?" He began to sound a little frantic. "Pretend this never happened, Baby, I'm exhausted and I've got to be in the field in five hours. Oh, God, I'm such an idiot!"

Robin could barely contain her giggle. "Agent Eppes, I've been recording this entire conversation. You have made an offer and I'm afraid that I simply cannot pretend it never happened."

Don grinned slowly and lowered his voice. "I should probably at least be punished for my boorish behavior."

Robin agreed. "You will be severely reprimanded, Agent. It may take me 30 or 40 years to thoroughly even the score."

Don fell back onto the bed, unbelievably and indescribably happy, for a man who would be facing possible death in just a few hours. "What the hell," he growled, "let's go for 50."

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Amita was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep.

She had never slept in Charlie's bed without Charlie before. In truth, it had taken her by surprise when Alan had turned to her with a quiet smile and offered to walk her up the stairs -- she assumed she would be staying in the small guest room downstairs. The gesture at once touched her, and left her discombobulated.

She had known for a little over 24 hours that she was pregnant. Impending motherhood was still a surrealistic reality to her, complicated by Charlie's serious illness and the continued threats of Planet Green. She had no idea how she was going to tell Charlie about this, or even when. From their recent conversation on the phone, she hoped he would take the news well, but it was anybody's guess. Once he was better, and he knew about the pregnancy, what then? True, he had already asked her to consider moving in with him. Would the offer be reneged, or would he put extra pressure on her? She hadn't been ready to move in before the baby; did the biological difference now mean that she was?

She was tempted to call Robin again, but it just as late in Seattle as it was here. She knew that Alan would get up early to fix Don and Colby a nice breakfast before they left on some mysterious mission that was somehow associated with Planet Green. She might as well get up with the rest of them, but she wondered if calling Robin at 6 in the morning would be any kinder than calling her at midnight.

She sighed, and flopped over onto her side. She grabbed Charlie's empty pillow and hugged it to her, spooning it as she had him the times they had slept in this bed together. She almost started crying when she buried her nose in the fabric of the pillowcase and inhaled the scent of him. She longed to have one leg thrown over his, a hand resting on his bare hip and another buried in his curls.

She had been an idiot, not to move in the moment he asked her. An idiot who very much hoped that he would ask again.

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Colby lay on the hide-a-bed in the solarium and tried to objectively observe the twinkling stars through the skylight. Before transforming the couch into a bed, he had stood for awhile and looked through the telescope that either Charlie, or Larry – probably both – had set up in a corner. The night sky really was beautiful, even though the light pollution of the city encroached on the view. Still, the position of the solarium and the power of the scope made this the next-best thing to hiking up into the Sierras and camping out for a few days and nights.

Colby sighed, realizing that it had been too long since he had done just that. Maybe when this Planet Green crisis was over, Don was back in tip-top shape and Charlie was wrapped around Amita like he should be…maybe he could get away for a weekend.

He yawned, then smiled, considering the possibilities. If they weren't on-call, maybe Dave would even go with him. He shook his head, still finding it difficult to believe that after the Chinese incident, he had gotten his best friend back. For a while there, he had been worried that David would never speak to him again – and he didn't really blame him.

It was ironic, really. He had gotten involved in the whole thing because the Army had become his family. His sister was much older; she was married and lived across the country before Colby was seven. His parents were older than all of his friends' parents, and they had both passed away when Colby was still in high school. After a year in the foster care system, he had been more than happy to join up, and more than ready to find there the family he was missing.

He thought of Alan and blinked rapidly. Somehow, when he wasn't paying attention, he had found a family on the outside. He was sure he had blown it; he knew he had hurt them – but Alan called him 'son', and introduced him as one of his 'boys'. Colby had thought that family was a sense of belonging, of camaraderie. Now he was discovering that it was also forgiveness, and that love could be unconditional.

He flopped over onto his side, wiping his snotty nose in the dark. Don't be an idiot, he thought. You're gonna keep yourself up all night, and Dad will give you hell for the circles under your eyes in the morning. Dad. The word, and the image it conjured, made him smile. Tomorrow someone crazy was going to try to blow him to Kingdom Come. Now, this moment, he was safe, and warm, and surrounded by his family.

Colby Granger fell asleep a happy man.

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Alan lay on his back in the darkness and whispered to his dead wife.

"For a born idiot, Margaret," he began, "I ended up a very lucky man." She didn't disagree with him, but still he enumerated for her. "The most beautiful, intelligent, funny, incredible woman in the world fell in love with me. She gave me two brilliant boys with hearts even more impressive than their IQs. They both took their time, but finally both of them are involved with beautiful, intelligent women of their own – and I will finally be a grandfather." He paused for a moment, blinking back tears. "My only regret is that you will not be with me to enjoy that."

He sighed, then smiled into the darkness. "The family is growing, dear. Don's team members are so much more than coworkers. These are the people I trust with my son's life, every day. A father can't do that without truly getting to know and appreciate that team on an individual basis – at least, this father can't. David and Colby are part of this family – just like Megan, bless her heart, and Larry. Of course, Robin and Amita are our daughters, now. So much family, Margaret. So much."

He thought suddenly of Millie and felt himself blushing under the cover of darkness. "She's just a good friend," he defended, as if Margaret had accused him of something. "She's an excellent friend, to all of us; I actually think you would like her."

He listened for a moment to a voice that only he could hear and chuckled quietly. "You're probably right, Margaret," he agreed. "I'm an idiot."

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A/N: Oh, No! All this love at Casa Eppes can only mean that there is an idiot somewhere in the future…