Day three of twenty one. Charlie was actually thinking of getting himself one of those wall calendars, just so he could cross out each and every bloody day. Something like a kid crossing days until Christmas... or a prisoner counting down the days of his jail time.
He was hoping that his body would start to adjust to the vaccine and kindly skip out on the side effects. He wasn't so lucky though. While he didn't feel exactly sick, nothing hurt enough to be cause for alarm, he was just overall feeling icky. Like a day before one gets the flu.
Combined with the fact his night was still disturbed by strange dreams, and the knowledge that the evening will come faster than he would like, Charlie made for one grumpy sergeant.
When he dared to snap back at Lawson (although that was totally unplanned and he regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth), he was almost sent home like a scolded kid. Fortunately there was a call about a missing dog and a frantic old lady swearing that it must've been kidnapped by the evil children next door. Not wanting to risk the lady trying to investigate herself, or worse, attack some kids, Lawson looked around the office to see who he could send out.
Hobart looked up just as the man's gaze paused on him and shook his head quickly.
"Uh huh. I don't like dogs. Or old ladies. Send Davis," Hobart pointed to Charlie, who was silently sulking at his desk, irritated by one more report that was returned to him because he made a bloody typo. Really, was Lawson just trying to make him go crazy?
"He's already in the dog house anyway," Hobart added and Charlie's head snapped up, catching up on the one sided conversation.
Lawson shot him a look.
"What?" Charlie asked, unsure what was going on, but knowing his name was mentioned. And a dog house.
"The call, Davis. Old lady, lost dog... nasty kids. Right up your alley, isn't it?"
Charlie blinked. He knew Hobart was making fun of him, knew the call would most likely be a nightmare, but at the same time... it would definitely take his mind off things and get him out of the station.
"Boss?"
Lawson let out a sigh then nodded.
"Fine," Lawson grumbled, jotting down the address. How on earth did the lady get the number to his desk in the first place he didn't know, but that just meant she would be a hassle. Davis at least tended to have a bit more 'diplomatic' approach than Hobart.
"Davis?" Bill called out as Charlie took the address, grabbing his blazer and for the first time since morning felt a bit energized.
"Yeah?" Charlie looked at Bill, noting the smirk on his face.
"Don't get bitten," Bill said with a snort.
Charlie let out a huff, turning his back on the man. Of course Bill wouldn't forget it anytime soon. He might've gotten pissed about it, but in reality, he was just happy to be outside. Out of Lawson's watchful gaze, letting the sun warm up his skin, the slight breeze easing the headache he had since morning.
Despite the mundane seeming call, it had given Charlie at least a bit of entertainment. First, he managed to calm down the frantic woman, missing her mutt. He went over to the neighbours and after encountering a couple of guilty looking kids in the backyard, he wheedled out the location of the dog. It was currently hidden in the barn half a mile away. So Charlie got a little walk out of it, a lot of friendly dog slobber when the creature encountered another friendly face and then of course a plate of cookies as thanks for the trouble after the lady was reunited with her dog and the children were properly scolded for causing the trouble.
He had returned to the station fed and smug, pointedly putting one cookie in front of Lawson, ignoring Bill's glare.
Charlie wished his good mood could've lasted much longer, but then he got a look at the clock and grimaced. He hated the fact he was starting to dread the end of his shift. He found himself making more typos in the reports the closer the hour was drawing, until Lawson just dumped one of the files into the trash bin, fed up.
"Get your head screwed back on, Davis! Or you can take a sick leave for the rest of the month."
Lawson didn't shout, didn't even raise his tone when he said that, but Charlie felt the irritation seeping out of his voice. The mere thought of staying home for the next few weeks scared the hell out of him. Not to mention he most likely couldn't afford it.
"Sorry, boss. I'll... focus," Charlie answered, his throat dry. Lawson gave him a sharp nod.
"See that you do. Tomorrow. We are done for the day." With that the man grabbed his things and headed out of the office, limping just a bit heavier on his leg.
Charlie felt bad for that. He was so focused on his own worries that he didn't pay attention to anything else, even the fact Lawson's leg seemed to bother him a bit more as the weather changed. He rushed after the man, hoping the ride home wouldn't be too awkward. At least Hobart wasn't in the room when he got chewed out. Small mercies.
Blake's car wasn't there.
Charlie frowned as he parked the police car in front of the house. He looked at his watch. True, they were a bit early... Lawson made sure they left the station as soon as possible, which gave Charlie a good half hour of time before he had to start worrying about 'not making it'.
But Charlie somehow expected that Blake would be around. He stepped into the house and headed towards the kitchen. Jean was there of course, preparing dinner. She turned and greeted him with a smile.
"Ah, Charlie. Excellent timing! I'm just finishing the soup, can you please check on the roast?"
Charlie nodded and went to open the oven. The smell made his mouth water and stomach growl. He turned the meat and closed the door.
"I think it needs a bit more time," he noted. "But it smells splendid."
Jean smiled.
"Thank you! I hope it will taste just as good."
"I'm sure it will," Charlie commented, then somehow sheepishly asked: "Uh, is the Doc around?"
"Ah sorry Charlie, I forgot to tell you. He is at the hospital still. Dr. Patterson called... but he should be home any minute."
Charlie pursed his lips, nodding in thought.
Dr. Patterson? What was Blake doing at the hospital? Was it Mr. Turner? Or did Dr. Patterson find out something else? Equally dreadful perhaps?
Suddenly the smell of the roast felt too strong and stifling. Charlie's appetite took a backseat and he quickly excused himself. He debated whether to go upstairs to his room and change out of his clothes, get ready for when Blake arrives. But he couldn't. The thought of waiting inside the small room made him want to pace. So he headed out through the back door and settled on one of the benches facing the garden. He would still hear Blake's car approaching but in the meantime could use the fresh air and try to calm himself down. Perhaps slow deep breaths might clear his head. Whatever news was Blake bringing, it most likely won't be good. But there was also no reason to think that it meant something worse for Charlie.
He tried to convince himself of that, stopping himself from constantly checking his watch by actually covering it with the palm of his hand. He was worrying at his bottom lip, his fingers' clapping in some familiar rhythm against his thigh, which was in turn bopping up in the same rhythm. All in all, Charlie was a picture of restlessness.
Finally there was the familiar sound of the car. Charlie shot up from the bench, as if afraid he might miss Blake if he stayed there. He entered the house silently, meeting Blake in the hallway.
"Ah, Charlie. Hope you're not waiting for long," Blake said with a smile, but Charlie noted it was a bit crooked. His face holding just a bit of sadness.
"Uh no... we just... arrived," he said, realizing he was still in his uniform, while Lawson appeared behind him already in his home wear.
Blake raised a brow but didn't comment.
"Why don't you go change Charlie? I'll be up with you in a minute."
Charlie nodded, but he didn't move.
"Uh... is everything alright Doc? Jean said you were at the hospital."
Blake looked like he was bringing bad news and he would rather keep them to himself for a bit longer.
"Doc," Charlie urged, not having the patience to wait.
Blake took off his hat and coat, hanging them on the rack, then motioned Charlie to the living room.
"I'm sorry to say, but Mr. Turner had passed away an hour ago."
Charlie knew he should have expected that. It shouldn't have felt like a blow to the gut, but it did. He sat down on the couch with a thud, fingers of his left hand running over the bite mark surreptitiously.
"Charlie?"
"I uh... I really thought that Dr. Patterson might... save him?" Charlie said, a bit flustered, realizing how naive he was.
"I'm sorry, Charlie. It was an extremely long shot, the chances were abysmal. Perhaps I should've explained that better-"
Charlie shook his head.
"No, Doc. I was just-" Charlie ran a hand over his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Just hoping."
Blake didn't say anything else, though he did give Charlie's shoulder a friendly pat.
"What about Mrs. Turner? How is she doing?" Charlie asked, clearing his throat and wishing for a glass of water.
"Her sister was with her. She will be taken care of. We made a few calls to Mr. Turner's employer and she is due some insurance pay out at least."
Charlie nodded.
"That's good," he muttered though he knew money couldn't replace her husband or the terrible last few days she had to get through. "Did you find out?"
"Find out what?" Blake asked, confused.
"What happened to him. How he got infected."
"Ah. Yes. Once he was sedated, Dr. Patterson gave him a full physical. He discovered a small, mostly healed up bite mark on the back of his neck, most likely from a bat. When I talked to his wife, she remembered a phone call about a month ago, when he was on a business trip in the Philippines. He mentioned something bit him during the night but thought it was a bug. They both forgot about it by the time he returned home."
"So he got this sick within a month?" Charlie wondered in awe.
"Well, the bite was basically at the base of his skull. The closer the bite is to the brain, the faster the virus can reach it."
Charlie grimaced, shaking his own head.
"How could he not notice a bat bit him? Wouldn't it have woken him up?"
Blake shrugged.
"We don't know the details, Charlie. He might've been too tired to wake up. Maybe he had a glass of something stronger before sleep. Sadly we didn't get to ask him, so we won't know the details."
"Did he... was he aware? At the end?"
Charlie knew it was a morbid question, but he couldn't get rid of the notion that during some moments the man was aware of what was happening to him, knew what was coming.
"He was in a coma Charlie. I'm sure he didn't feel a thing by that point. But let's not go there now, alright?"
Charlie nodded, but his mind couldn't be convinced so easily. When Blake told him to go upstairs, that he would be there shortly, Charlie headed out without protest. He walked past Lawson and Jean in the kitchen without a word. Took off his uniform and changed into his home attire. He did it without even noticing.
All he could think of was that Mr. Turner must've known. And if the vaccine won't work and somewhere down the line Charlie grabs a drink and won't be able to swallow... he would know too and wouldn't even have the bliss of ignorance on his side.
When there was a knock on his door, Charlie said 'Come in', but his tone was dry, emotionless. He felt numb and knew he should snap out of it, but for the moment the numbness brought on by bad news was preferable to the panic of a needle. So he pulled up his shirt when Blake asked him to. He didn't flinch at the feeling of the alcohol pad on his skin. And while he still couldn't force himself to look at the syringe as it came his way, when he moved his gaze at the clock, he didn't really focus on the time.
The pinch made him wince and he still had to grit his teeth, fighting back the urge to clench his stomach muscles and stop breathing altogether. The clock face became a bit sharper, but Charlie stubbornly clung to the haze of numbness. Thinking that a man had just died and this was a small price to pay for not following in his footsteps.
"Done," Blake said, giving Charlie a thoughtful look. "Alright there?"
Charlie blinked, shaking off the fog, or at least trying to.
"Yeah Doc. I'm fine. Thanks."
He let the shirt slip back down, his eyes down on his lap.
"Are you sure?"
Charlie nodded, still silent.
Blake sighed, patting his knee.
"Alright then. Dinner is ready, if you want to come down."
Charlie really didn't. His hunger was gone and the last thing he wanted was to face Jean and Lawson like this. He wasn't sure what came over him but it most definitely wasn't an emotion he wanted to share.
"I think I'll skip it tonight. Sorry. I just... need a moment. To think."
Blake didn't look happy about it, but finally nodded.
"Alright. If you change your mind, we will save you a plate. And Charlie... if you want to talk, we are here."
Charlie looked up at that, giving a small smile.
"I know. Thanks Doc."
When Blake left, Charlie stayed still for several long minutes, pondering. He wanted to go for a run but he honestly wasn't feeling up to it. His headache went up a notch and the idea of feeling every damn step shoot pain up his brain didn't seem all that relaxing. His muscles were still stiff. He could go for a walk, but that would require changing his clothes once again and most likely having to face someone from the Blake household and explain where he was going. He wasn't up for that either.
While he was contemplating, he worried at the edge of the bandage on his hand until it started falling apart. He took it off and threw it in the trash, then with a sigh lie back down on the bed. If nothing else, he could have an early night and go for a run as soon as the sun came up. As he lie there, he looked at the healing bite marks and wondered if they would leave a scar. If he would have to look at them every day while writing up reports on the typewriter and think about what a thin line separated a person from death. One bite.
The next few days had passed in a slight haze for Charlie, though it quickly became routine. Perhaps an unwanted one, but nevertheless a routine.
Following Mr. Turner's death and Charlie's tamed behaviour, Lawson at least made sure his time at work was always full. Charlie didn't have a free moment at the station, even if it meant being sent on errands that would usually fell to other officers. He didn't complain though, he was actually grateful for that. It meant that he didn't spend the whole day dreading the evening and usually he was tired out enough to sleep through the night.
He still hated taking the shots. But Blake had soon figured out that if he kept up a calm conversation and made sure not to wave the needle in front of Charlie, they could both get through it without fists flying or undue flashbacks.
Most of the days it worked fine. Most of the days, Charlie could ignore the occasional side effect of the vaccine as nothing more than a bout of flu. If Lawson let him pass the day at the desk without pestering, he took it without much protest.
Of course there were days when things didn't go well. Days when the skin on his stomach was taunt and red, irritated by the latest shot. Blake did his best to find a spot that looked normal, but Charlie knew they might just run out of space before they run out of the shots. By the time the third week started, Charlie regretted picking the evening as the time for shots. Despite working on keeping his appearance calm for the few minutes of the discomfort, Charlie was still stressed by the prospect of the shot so he couldn't eat anything right before that. And afterwards, more often than not Charlie opted to just go to his room for a bit. It was quite common he didn't reappear for dinner and it was starting to show. He had to punch a new hole on his belt to keep his pants from slipping down in the midst of pursuit… and Jean was decidedly unhappy with him skipping out on her cooking so often.
Of course that just meant she put all that more on his plate for breakfast, but there was only so much a guy could eat that early in the day. At least she didn't openly pester him for it and Charlie promised, after he caught a sad look on her face, that he would promptly catch up as soon as this whole affair was over.
The third week had begun and Charlie was getting into better spirit. Perhaps he could get over this without any incident, he thought. Only few more days and he could forget all about rabies and being repeatedly stabbed in the stomach.
Of course it was on that day, as Charlie went to work in high spirits, when fate decided to pull a prank on him.
The weather had been awful for the last two days and the sky was heavy with clouds. Charlie didn't think much of it as he settled down behind his desk. He barely looked at the window when he heard the crack of lightning, or the sudden onslaught of heavy rain. By the time lunch break arrived, it was clear the rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. Calls started coming in about flooded cellars or fallen trees and Charlie was kept busy well until the end of his shift.
He would have forgotten the time and stayed longer, but Lawson made sure to remind him there were places he had to be. Because Lawson was staying behind, Charlie rushed to the bus stop. He worried for a moment that the bus might not arrive and he cursed himself for not taking a cab.
The bus was on time though and the road was clear all the way to home. Charlie ran the short distance from the bus stop, arriving home soaked to the bone. He sneezed before he even managed to open the front door. He brushed the water off of his face and stepped inside the house. He had turned to close the door when he noticed that Blake's car was missing. Again.
Charlie's stomach twisted.
Blake was usually home by this time.
Hell, the doc made sure he was home at least an hour earlier than the shots were due.
Charlie looked at his watch. Twenty minutes till their usual time.
Alright, that was still doable. And perhaps Blake was home and it was Jean who took the car…
Jean peeked out of the kitchen, quickly dissuading him of that notion.
"Charlie? Oh my, you are drenched! Come on, upstairs. Get out of those wet clothes," she rushed him from the hallway towards the stairs. Charlie followed, until his brain caught up. He grabbed the banister and paused, turning to Jean.
"Is the doc around?" he asked, trying not to drip too much water on the floor.
Jean grimaced and Charlie frowned, realizing it wasn't his current state and the mess he was making that caused that.
"Jean?"
"He had to see a patient around noon. It took a bit longer than he thought and by the time he tried to leave… the nearest road was flooded."
Charlie blinked, trying to comprehend what that meant.
"Is he okay?"
"Oh yes, he's fine. He had to return to the farm though. He called me about two hours ago."
"So… is he on the way? Will he make it in time?"
Charlie swallowed, feeling just a bit faint. He grasped the banister a little bit tighter. If Blake wouldn't make it… what would he do?
Jean reached out and ran her hand over his arm soothingly, giving him a reassuring smile.
"He headed out right after the call, just wanted to let us know it might take him a bit longer to get home. He had to take a different road. He said not to worry, that a few minutes really won't make a difference."
Charlie nodded numbly.
"Yes, but what if he gets stuck somewhere else?"
Jean sighed.
"He made sure I know what to do."
"What to do?"
Jean nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"In case he doesn't arrive till seven, he told me how to give you the shot. Unless of course you would prefer a nurse to do it… we can call a cab and get to the hospital."
Charlie blanched a bit more, shaking his head without even knowing it.
No way in hell was he going to the hospital to get poked by some stranger. His stomach hurt enough already and he had no illusions about his own nerves snapping at the worst moment. He didn't need to make a scene or cause himself more harm.
"No. Not going anywhere," he said resolutely.
Jean nodded.
"Lucien thought you might say that. That's why he gave me pretty specific instructions." Jean looked like she wasn't all that certain about any of them, but she was determined if nothing else to carry out the task. Charlie wished he could feel as determined himself. Right now all he wanted was to get under a steaming hot shower and stay there for the next week.
"But enough of that. Come on, get warmed up and into something dry. I'm sure Lucien will be home any minute now."
Charlie nodded unhappily and headed upstairs. Perhaps Jean was right. Any moment now Blake would arrive home.
Charlie had showered and changed his clothes. He went down, hoping to hear the familiar voice of the Doc, but all he could hear was meat sizzling on the pan as Jean was making dinner. Lawson wasn't around either but Charlie wasn't surprised at that. With how things were, he didn't expect his boss to arrive for a few more hours yet.
Dinner was done and plates were put out on the table and still, no sign of Blake.
While Charlie's nose twitched at the smell of food, his stomach grumbled nauseatingly. His throat was tight and he barely managed few sips of water. Dinner was spent with Jean trying to take his mind off things by asking questions about his day, about whose cellar flooded or what damages were accounted for. About weather and the prospect of more rain. About anything but the passing time.
It was five minutes to seven, Jean's plate washed, Charlie's still full on the table, when Jean sighed.
"Perhaps I should grab the things from Lucien's surgery, just in case."
Charlie gulped but nodded, eyes stuck on the clock on the wall.
Jean left and Charlie moved to the living room. It was as good a place as any he supposed. Maybe they could turn on the telly as a distraction. That might work.
His hands were clammy and Charlie snorted. Who was he kidding. Nothing would work. He could only pray that Blake arrived at the last second or that Jean was better at sticking needles into people than the nurse Charlie had encountered as a child and which still gave him nightmares.
"Charlie?" Jean called out, searching for him in the kitchen.
"Here," Charlie called back, grimacing. He debated turning the TV on, but decided to leave it up to Jean in the end. He might welcome the distraction, but perhaps she wouldn't. Seeing as she would be the one wielding the sharp object… Charlie deferred.
Jean came into the room with the familiar small box in one hand. She gave him a sheepish smile, putting it down on the coffee table and pulling a sheet of paper from the pocket of her dress.
"Now let's see about the instructions," she settled down opposite of Charlie, who sat on the couch. She re-read the sheet a few times, humming to herself. Charlie just tried to hide how much his hands were shaking by digging his fingers into the couch cushion.
"Alright. I think I got it," Jean said finally and turned a bit aside, preparing her supplies. Blake must've told her to keep it from Charlie's eyes as much as possible, because she made sure her body was blocking his vision of the table. Charlie was fine with that. Even grateful.
He still had to fight down the urge to flee when she asked him to pull up his shirt. The wince as she noted the previous needle sticks and the irritated skin was quite obvious and Charlie almost apologized for it. The last thing he wanted was to put Jean into this situation. It wasn't her job or her fault and Charlie should've just sucked it up and headed to the hospital right after he learned about Blake being late.
But there was nothing for it now. He wasn't willing to lose more precious time and risk that the vaccine won't work because of his personal hang-ups.
So he swallowed thickly and forced a shaky smile on his face.
"It's fine, Jean. Looks worse than it is."
Jean hummed, still slightly frowning as she grabbed the alcohol wipe. She paused, her hand hovering over his stomach and she looked up.
"Uhm... any preferred place?" she asked and Charlie hoped the queasiness in her tone was mostly just work of his imagination.
He looked down and pointed at the place that so far wasn't marred. He took in a sharper breath as he felt the cold and wet pad brush over his skin and decided that he didn't need to watch the rest of the proceedings. Maybe if he wished real hard, Blake would appear.
He felt Jean's fingers pinch the skin on the place he indicated and he closed his eyes.
Don't think about it. Think about anything else. The weather. Work. Rose. Anything but the fact you are about to be stabbed in the stomach by someone without experience-
Charlie's mind wasn't doing him any favours. He practically held his breath, muscles tensing despite knowing that would just make everything so much worse.
He could've sworn he felt the cold steel touch his skin, when suddenly the pinch was gone.
Was it done?
Charlie opened his eyes, confused.
Jean's head was turned sideways, the syringe in her hand still uncomfortably full.
Charlie blinked.
"Jean?"
"I ah... thought I heard a car?" Jean said, turning back to Charlie with an apologetic look. "It must've been the rain and the wind. Sorry. Let's... let's do this," she said with a sigh, but Charlie pulled back a bit, his eyes settling on the entrance to the room.
He could've sworn he heard the keys...
Don't be Lawson, don't be Lawson! His mind screamed at him.
"Anybody home?" came the familiar voice and Charlie's whole body sagged in relief.
"Oh, thank lord!" Jean next to him said in a tone that spoke volumes of how much she didn't want to be in this situation. "We're in the living room Lucien," she called out, giving Charlie a sheepish smile, as if she just realized how much she let on.
Charlie shook his head with a small smile. If the relieved sigh didn't make it clear enough how he felt, he didn't know what else might.
A slightly wet Lucien Blake popped his head into the living room, the hat on his head dripping water.
"Ah, just in time I see," he noted with a smirk. "Pardon the delay, the weather seems to have it out for me this lovely day."
"As long as you made it home safe and sound, I'm not complaining," Jean said, giving him a once over. She frowned a bit at the puddle that started to grow around his feet though. Blake followed her eyes and grimaced.
"Ah, my apologies once more. I'll just take off all these dripping clothes and wash my hands. Be with you in a minute, Charlie."
Charlie wanted to say 'Take your time, Doc,' but he supposed the sooner this was done the better. They were already almost an hour past the usual time and he really hoped that wouldn't affect the vaccine.
Jean stayed where she was, unsure what to do with the already filled syringe so she just kept hold of it, waiting for Blake to reappear.
The man was true to his words at least because it was barely a minute or two and he reappeared, still in his clothes but sans the coat and hat, his sleeves rolled up, hands freshly washed.
"I didn't want to put it down and risk contamination," Jean said when he walked up to them and she quickly gave up her seat and handed the syringe to him, as one would do with a hot potato or an armed grenade.
Blake nodded, taking the instrument and giving her a thankful smile.
"That was quite smart. Now Charlie, let's finish this up? I'm dying for a glass of something strong and a warm meal.
Charlie nodded. Even through the relief that had flooded his body only few minutes prior, his stomach muscles once again tensed in preparation for the discomfort.
"I'll warm up dinner for you," Jean said and was about to head out, when Blake turned back to her.
"Actually, why don't you stay?"
Jean froze, one brow rising in question.
"Is that a good idea? I don't want Charlie to be any more uncomfortable than he already is."
Charlie's cheeks flushed at the comment and he opened his mouth to protest, but Blake beat him to it.
"Nonsense. If I'm not mistaken, you were just about to do the deed before I arrived. Seeing as there are still five more doses to go, I'd sleep easier knowing there is someone else prepared in case the situation repeats."
Charlie swallowed, eyes widening a bit.
Did Blake really plan on being AWOL any other day? He wasn't sure he would be able to handle the stress again. Having someone else know what to do sounded like a good plan, but was Jean really the right person? Or rather... was Charlie comfortable enough to let her watch?
Jean seemed to be thinking in a more practical ways though. She shot a questioning look at Charlie.
"Is it alright with you?"
"Y-yeah, sure," Charlie said, sounding uncertain, but then he cleared his throat. "I suppose it's better if you see it, rather than just... read the instructions."
Satisfied with the answer, Jean moved to stand next to Blake to have a clear view.
Charlie took in a breath then let it out slowly. His fingers once again curled into the couch cushion and he turned his head away, wishing he could tune out Blake's voice explaining Jean just what angle to use and what speed.
He cringed through the process but didn't dare to make a sound. Once it was all done, he felt Jean rub his shoulder before she headed out to the kitchen. He expected Blake to do the same, but the man stayed sitting in front of him, packing up his things much too slowly.
"I'm sorry you had to wait, Charlie," he finally spoke apologetically and Charlie looked him in the face.
"It's alright, Doc," he muttered under his breath, then paused, looking up with a startled gaze. "It is alright, yes? The vaccine won't stop working just because of an hour or will it?"
"No no, it's fine, Charlie. Relax," Blake calmed him down with a pat on the knee. "An hour won't harm you in any way. There's always some window for error or delay calculated in."
Charlie let out a breath of relief then frowned.
"How big a window Doc?" He really didn't fancy stressing out this much about every minute if he had several hours to spare. But Blake didn't give him a number, he just chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as he got up.
"Relax. If for any reason I won't make it next time, Jean can handle it."
While that was supposed to sound comforting, Charlie couldn't help but mutter under his breath "Let's hope it won't come to that."
The chuckle coming from Blake's retreating form told him he spoke loud enough to be heard, but he didn't care. The Doc better know he was counting on him.
Later that night, Charlie was already upstairs in his bed, trying to relax with a good book and an ice pack on his stomach to ease the discomfort. The rain was still beating harshly on the windows, but it didn't disturb him. Lawson had made it home in one piece about an hour earlier, albeit grumpy at getting wet from the short walk to the house. Charlie had deemed it as the best time to retire to his room, though he caught sight of Jean taking a sip from the glass of sherry before turning back to her crocheting, listening with one ear to Lawson's grumbling. Charlie supposed she deserved that sherry as much as he did the sip of the Doc's whiskey the man handed him as a piece offering after finishing dinner.
It might not have been much, but the warmth running down his throat actually settled his stomach a bit, along with his nerves. Only five more days to go. Hopefully, the Doc will stick around for all of those.
Finally! The work week had passed without anymore incidents. While the last few doses seemed to be kicking his ass the most, Charlie dutifully went to work, if only to kill the time. Work was wonderful for that, whether the boring paper pushing or dealing with irate old ladies complaining about their neighbours. Anything to stop Charlie from constantly checking his watch.
But it was Friday, the last day and nothing could've soured that for Charlie. Not Hobart's rather old and boring jokes about staying away from anyone hungry. Not even the utterly annoying appearance of Edward Tyneman complaining whiningly about the officers kicking out one of his journalist from an active crime scene.
Charlie ignored all of that and when the clock struck five, he almost skipped towards the car. It was only the threat of bodily harm from Lawson that made him stop humming in the car.
His heart skipped a beat when he noticed that Blake's car wasn't parked in front of the house. But then he remembered the thing was being serviced and Blake should be home...
He was still a bit worried as he entered the house, until he heard Jean chuckling as Blake made some comment in the kitchen.
Charlie smiled.
They were all home, all on time.
He said a quick hello to Jean and Blake, then rushed upstairs to change his clothes and grab a quick shower. He put on his most comfortable pair of pants and the softest shirt that wouldn't irritate the skin of his stomach so much then settled on the edge of his bed.
Few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Blake entered.
"How was your day?" he asked, as usual, while he settled in front of Charlie. Charlie pulled up his shirt and then recalled every little whiny comment Edward Tyneman made. He even attempted to imitate his voice, though that cracked a bit when the needle pierced his skin. But he persevered, much to Blake's amusement.
Before he knew it, the needle was out and Charlie's shirt was tucked back down.
He smiled.
"It's over, yes?"
"It is," Blake said. "Well done, Charlie. Well done," Blake told him proudly and Charlie knew it wasn't just for this time. He knew Blake never once made fun of him or showed his disappointment, even if there were days when Charlie had just about enough and had to fight down a panic attack.
"Thanks Doc," Charlie said, reaching out a hand. He wanted to make sure the man knew how much he appreciated what he had done for him, all the patience and care he showed in those three weeks.
Blake took his hand and gave it a shake, while his other one patted Charlie on the shoulder.
"You're welcome. Just try not to make this a frequent occurrence, for both our sakes," Blake said with a smirk and Charlie let out a heavy chuckle.
"I'll try my very best, Doc. I promise."
"Good. Now shall we go down to dinner? I know for a fact Jean prepared some of your favourites to celebrate the occasion."
Charlie nodded, his stomach giving a hungry growl. It was the first time he was actually ready to go down for dinner in several weeks now. He almost skipped down the steps. Jean and Lawson looked at him, amused as he settled at the table with a wide grin and started putting things on his plate with gusto.
"Hungry?" Lawson asked with a smirk.
"Famished," Charlie said with a smile, ignoring the amused looks being thrown his way. After all, the people around him were family and after the last few weeks, they deserved a bit of amusement as well.
THE END