Series: Numb3rs
Season: 2
Part: 5/7
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

A/N: I should mention that the Web site of the CDC has been extremely help as I completed my research on HPS.

I would like to thank CELADON for helping me proofing this part. Thank you! I really appreciate your help.

Thank you everyone for all your support!

Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long

Chapter 5: Standing By Your Side.

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It was past 11:00 a.m. when Charlie and David rejoined Alan, Megan, and Colby at the hospital. The two agents were still standing by the glass window separating Don's cubicle from the nursing station, while Alan was now hovering over his oldest son's still body.

"They put him on the ventilator already," Charlie voiced, totally unprepared.

He had been aware of the possibility of finding his brother no longer able to breathe on his own by the time he and David returned from the house. However, knowing it was inevitable did not make confronting the harsh reality any easier.

"They installed the ventilator right after they were done with the catheter," Colby informed him and David. "Don's lungs are starting to be seriously compromised."

"Do they know for sure that it's HPS now?" David asked.

"It is. The tests came back positive," Colby confirmed.

"Has he entered into the second phase of the disease yet?" David inquired again, worried.

"No, not yet. Although fluids are already filling his lungs, his pulse and blood pressure are still high. The second phase is characterized by a sudden downward shift in vital signs. The pulmonary catheter will help them monitor that," Colby explained.

"Charlie," Megan began softly, as she put a hand on his harm. "You better go in there. Don-"

"I- I don't think- I don't think I can," he stuttered nervously.

"Yes, you can," she encouraged him. "You have to."

Charlie stared at his brother through the glass window. He desperately wished he could be somewhere else. Anywhere other than this intensive care unit, where Don was being entangled into a web of tubing designed to keep him breathing – keep him alive.

"You would think that such a vital structure such as the respiratory system would have a fail-proof mechanism," he commented distractedly. "It must be a design flaw."

"Charlie, don't do this," David whispered, behind him.

"I…" he was at a loss for words as a lump formed in his throat.

"Don's been waiting for you," Megan told him. "He's fighting to stay awake so he can see you. You don't have much time. They need to increase his sedation to make him more comfortable."

"I know- I know what he wants to tell me," Charlie stammered. "He wants to let me know that everything's going to be all right. But it's not!"

"You don't know that," Megan objected. "You have to let him tell you that everything's going to be all right, Charlie; for his sake and for yours. You have to go in there now. Don's not going to have another chance for a very long time."

"He might never have another chance," David pointed out the grim possibility with the compassion only a good friend could master.

"You can do this, man," Colby added supportively.

Charlie heaved a deep sigh. They were right. He had to do this; if not for Don, for himself. There had been so many things he not shared with his mother before she had passed away – so many lost opportunities to support her and tell her that he loved her – all because he had decided to hide and deny her upcoming death. He was not going to do the same with Don. No, Charlie was not going to walk away from him, too. Don deserved to have him by side.

Furthermore, Charlie knew that if he could find the strength to do this now, he had Don to thank for it. His assertive and fearless older brother had pierced his bubble, had him face the sometimes harsh reality of the world, and had also inspired a new kind of self-confidence in him. Charlie had a lot to be thankful to Don for.

Still, he was scared to the core and it was with hesitation that he crossed the threshold of the cubicle. He froze as he took in, up close, the numerous machines his brother was hooked up to. His eyes rested on the ventilator and Charlie fought down a gagging reflex. Tears welled at the rims of his dark eyes.

This whole set up was totally wrong.

Don looked so sick, so pale, and so tired. Charlie had never seen his strong and confident older brother this vulnerable before. Suddenly, despite his determination to be there for Don, Charlie doubted his capacity to bear this pain. He was about to turn on his heel and walk back out of the room when his dad's loving and gentle voice stopped him.

"Charlie's here, Donnie," he heard his father tell his oldest son. Alan looked back at Charlie and coaxed him to approach them with a reassuring smile.

Charlie slowly came to stand beside his father. Alan put a hand on his shoulder. In turn, Charlie rested a tentative hand on Don's chest – sensing it rises and falls. His brother covered it with one of his own. They were not the hugging-type family but, at that very moment, they all needed some form of close contact.

"Hey, Don," Charlie greeted, just above a whisper. What could he say?

His brother responded with a small hand squeeze.

"Donnie has message he wants me to give you, Charlie," Alan informed him.

Charlie met his brother eyes. They were clouded and unfocussed, yet they were looking up at him with a distinctive presence.

"He doesn't want you to lock yourself in the garage again like you did in the past," Alan continued sympathetically. "He wants you to go on with your life, no matter what happens. He'll be around again soon enough to make sure of it himself. Meanwhile, he wants you to promise him that you will take care of yourself."

It was just like Don to be worried about him, despite everything he was going through. It was his prerogative as older brother, Don had once told him.

"I- I promise, Don," Charlie vowed "I won't lock myself in the garage. No- no P versus NP, either. I'm going to take care of myself and I will be there for Dad. I'm going to be your constant. You don't have to worry about us." He swallowed. "You have to promise me one thing, though. In return, you have to promise us that you will fight this with everything you have. Can you promise me that, Don?"

Again, his brother gave his hand a squeeze – sealing the pact.

"That's good. Try to go to sleep," Charlie said. "Everything's going to be all right, just rest. We're not going anywhere."

They carefully watched Don close his eyes – his facial features relaxing a bit.

Alan pulled his youngest son closer to him and gave him an approving smile. "I'm proud of you, Charlie," he whispered softly. "And I know, so is Don. Your brother is proud of the man you have become and he loves you very much. He told me so."

Charlie met his father's dark eyes. They were wet, betraying his anguish.

"I love him, too," Charlie murmured, taking his brother's hand into his own. "I love you, Don. Remember that home is with me and Dad. Don't stay away from us for too long."

This time, Alan pulled his youngest son into a hug. Their embrace lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough to convey some much needed mutual comfort.

"Has he finally fallen asleep?" a man inquired, gently breaking the silence that had fallen between father and son.

Both Charlie and Alan looked up at Dr. Ma, who was standing by the doorway.

"He just did," confirmed Alan.

The immunologist took that cue to come further into the cubicle. He glanced over the various monitors and noted a few numbers on a chart. He then retrieved a syringe from his lab coat and inserted the tip into one of Don's IV lines.

"I'm increasing his sedation," he explained. "Don had quite a rough morning and the next few days are going to be even more difficult. He can use all the rest he can get."

"What- what will happen next?" Charlie asked, having trouble finding his voice.

"At this point, we expect Don to enter in the next phase of the disease sometime during the next 12 hours. We'll continue to monitor his oxygen saturation levels, blood pressure, fluids, and electrolytes very closely so that everything stays as balanced as possible. Our best treatment remains the high-frequency oscillator ventilatory support which we put Don on. We have to let the virus run its course and stay ahead, or at the very least, keep up with it as best we can."

"Anything we can do?" Alan asked.

"Get some rest as well," Dr. Ma replied. "As I said, the next few days will be difficult, on all of you."

1010101010

She silently walked in the room like a mouse making its way through a kitchen; careful not to wake the cat, as it sleep soundly by the window. She reached the bed in a couple of steps, remaining uncertain of what to do once there.

She felt overwhelmed by the overall set up in front of her; by all the equipment present – humming, beeping, and flashing. She had seen her share of rooms like this one in the past, but it was never the same when its occupant was someone you worked with, someone you had once loved, someone whom you still dearly cared about.

Terry Lake took Don's hand, mindful of the IV attached to it. Her old friend did not stir – submerged in the abyss of unconsciousness. She searched his face behind the ventilator. He was almost unrecognizable.

A tear rolled down her cheek; then another.

She gently dried them, according the pace of her movement with the quasi stillness of the room. Everything was slow; slow and rhythmic. The sound of the ventilator and the constant beeps of the heart monitor were generating a surreal atmosphere. One that was comforting and distressing at the same time. She was amazed by the number of machine necessary to keep one person alive.

"Now, there's a sight for sore eyes," she heard.

Terry lifted her head and looked to her left. Her gaze met Alan's, whom had been dozing off in a chair by his son's bed.

"I'm sorry, Alan. I didn't want to wake you," she whispered.

"That's alright," he said with a small smile. "Please, come and give this old man a hug. He desperately needs one."

Terry gently put down Don's hand by his side, as if she had been handling porcelain. She then made her way around the bed before letting Alan embrace her into a bear hug. It occurred to Terry that she had come to L.A. to provide support, not to receive some. However, at that very moment, she did not care. She needed Alan's comfort just as much as he needed hers.

Slowly, they disentangled themselves. She made a half turn, without breaking their close contact. They both faced Don's sleeping figure.

"Don's stable for now. He's holding his own," Alan told her. "He crashed into the second phase of the disease less than two hours ago, going hypotensive. It happened so fast… I never was so scared in my entire life, before."

"I'm so sorry, Alan," she breathed as she tried to suppress a sob.

"Terry, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault."

"This must be horrible for you and Charlie," she empathized. "You haven't seen Don for over two months; and when he finally comes home, you all have to face your worst nightmare."

"I'm just glad he did come home," Alan confessed. "The possibility that this might have happened somewhere else – another city, another state, even another country – without me or Charlie by his side, is just unthinkable."

"Don wouldn't't have handled that well, either," Terry said, knowingly. "He was missing you and Charlie horribly. Don gave up a great deal when he came back from Albuquerque, but he found his home. He came to relish the time he passes with you. Don's home is where you and Charlie are."

"That's what his brother keeps reminding him," Alan stated, thinking fondly of his younger son.

"Don hasn't forgotten, on the contrary," Terry assured him. "He wanted to be faithful to that promise he made to come home every two or three weeks. However, there was always another lead to follow, another operation to set up, and another person to rescue… His sense of responsibility was always taking over his personal needs and wants. It was the same for Véronique. Both of them have many people counting on them. That said, he could have come back sooner. I should have insisted that he did more. That was my responsibility as his friend."

"I'm sure you all did the best you could," Alan soothed her. "I know my son takes his responsibilities very seriously, especially when other people depend on him. It's one of those characteristics that make me so proud of him."

She looked up at him and smiled with understanding. "It's also makes him a great boss and friend."

Slowly, she came closer to the bed. She bent forward and put a tender kiss on Don's forehead.

"Don, it's Terry," she whispered in his ear. "I'm here with your father. We're both standing by your side and we're not letting you go. You can depend on us. So, hang on, Don. We love you."

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TBC

A/N: I think this was the most difficult part to write so far. It seems that I was at lost for words. Hope that it made sense.

Thank you for reading and for all your support.

June 2006