Tangential Planes 2/9

Chapter Two:

Thursday Afternoon

Don rushed up to the main hospital information desk. "I need the room number for Charles Eppes, now."

"And you are?" the woman behind the counter asked as she brought up the patient census on her computer screen.

Don flashed his FBI badge at her. "A man with no patience for protocol."

"Room 206."

Not wanting to wait for the elevators, Don ran for the stairwell and stopped the first person he saw on the second floor. "Where's Room 206?"

He took off in the direction they pointed and found the room almost at the end of the hall.

Breathing hard, Don stopped in front of the door, suddenly afraid to open it, afraid of what he might find.

His hand rested on the doorknob for just a second before he opened it and looked inside. He stood there, unmoving, staring at his brother in the bed in front of him.

Charlie appeared to be sleeping but was so unnaturally still and pale that he could have been a corpse. His arms, stone white and delicate, resting on the blanket seemed so much more frail than Don remembered. He wondered how his brother had managed to waste away in front of his very eyes.

Larry, who'd been sitting next to Charlie's bed, rose to greet him.

"Don, I'm so glad you're here," Larry said softly. "Your father's been trying to reach you since yesterday."

Don couldn't take his eyes off Charlie. "How is he?" he asked nervously.

"He'll be fine, Don, really. He's just resting right now."

Don finally turned his attention to Larry, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. "What happened? What's wrong with him? Where's my father?"

Larry put up his hands to ward off more questions. "Easy, Don. I'd be happy to answer all of your questions, just one at a time. Your brother collapsed towards the end of a presentation he was making at a conference yesterday morning. I was with him and called 911 since I didn't know what was wrong. I thought perhaps he'd just fainted from the heat of the auditorium lights but the doctor who examined him said he was suffering from exhaustion. It seems your brother has been overworking himself again, only this time to the extreme. Your father has been here pretty much since Charlie was brought in, but he's off talking to Charlie's doctor right now and should be back shortly."

"He's going to be okay?" Don asked, approaching the bed.

"Yes, of course, Don. He just needs to rest and take it easy for a while. They'll probably release him tomorrow so he can recuperate the rest of the way at home."

"Is he ready for that so soon?" Don frowned.

"Well, they've been treating him for an electrolyte imbalance and feeding him intravenously to address the dehydration and malnutrition, but your father was told that if all goes well with putting him back on solid food this evening then, yes, he can recover just as well at home."

Don was having trouble comprehending how the doctors could even be considering sending him home. Charlie barely looked well enough to be alive, much less ready to be released.

Don shook his head in disbelief. "Larry, how could this happen? I mean, I know I've been busy lately but look at him! You or my father had to have noticed at least."

Larry shook his head sadly, his expression a mix of regret and frustration. "Noticing is one thing, Don. Being able to stop it..." He looked down at his young friend and sighed. "That's a different story. All I know is he's been working on a project for about six weeks now that has to be classified at the highest levels."

Don recoiled slightly in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, normally Charles can't stop talking about his work. Even when I'm not allowed to know the details of a project, as often happens when he works for the FBI, he usually finds some way to couch the problem he wants my advice on in vague enough terms to get around the issue of confidentiality."

"And he's been doing that lately?"

"No, actually he refuses to even admit he's working on a project. He denies he's doing anything other than normal work related equations. But I happened to notice the one hitch in his story."

"Which is?"

"His boards. They're all empty, Don. When have you known your brother to not have some equations he's working on up on a blackboard or a whiteboard? Amita's been following him around with Do Not Erase signs for years but lately they've all been empty. Every last one. Don, that's akin to you not carrying your badge and gun at work. It's part of who you are and that doesn't change all of a sudden."

"So he's not working on the boards at all?"

"No, just his laptop. Actually, it was the first thing he asked about when he woke up according to Alan."

"Really?" Don huffed. "Must be some project."

"The second thing he asked about was his brother," Larry said softly. "So, yes, I'd say that whatever he's working on is of global, or at least national, significance."

Don eased into the chair next to Charlie's bed and rubbed his tired eyes.

Larry patted him on the shoulder and headed for the door. "I'll leave you two alone for now."