A/N: An extra for you tonight, because I will be away from my 'puter for approximately 24 hours, and you must wait…Don't say I never gave you anything!

Chapter 8

Alan fussed at Don in the elevator. "We shouldn't have been gone so long."

Don watched the floors disappear. "It's only been seven hours, Dad. We were obviously tired."

"We never should have gone off our split schedule. Then Charlie wouldn't have been here alone."

The doors of the elevator opened and Alan hurried out and started down the hall. Don found himself rushing to keep up. "I'm sure he's okay. The hospital would have called."

"He still felt a little warm. The fever never let go completely, and it could start to climb again."

Don got close enough to clap a hand on his father's shoulder. "Then he should sleep. That's what his doctor said."

They turned another corner and Alan quickened his pace even more. Don's hand fell away. Alan pushed the second door open and froze just inside. Don had been distracted by the glint of a gum wrapper on the floor. He was looking down at it and was unprepared for Alan's sudden stop. He found his forward progress abruptly halted, and his head slammed into his the back of his father's. Don put out a hand out to steady them both and tried to peer around Alan's shoulder. "What?"

Maybe he'd hit his head on Alan harder than he thought.

Charlie appeared to be sitting in a chair next to the bed, pushing forlornly at a dish of green gelatin with a spoon. He seemed to be trying to kill it.

"Holy shit," Don said.

Alan automatically responded. "Language, son."

Neither one of them moved until Charlie looked away from the gelatin and toward them. "Are you coming in?"

The two floated across the room in a trance and sat together on the edge of the bed. Charlie regarded them tiredly for a moment and then smiled. "You guys are funny. Like you're connected at the hip, or something."

Alan stood back up, leaned over Charlie and kissed the top of his head. Then he dragged the other chair over so it was facing Charlie and sat down. "Look at you," he smiled. "Look at you."

Charlie dropped the spoon and leaned his head back against the chair. "You should have seen me earlier. I was in the Boston Marathon."

Don laughed. "You walked, right?"

"All the way to the bathroom," Charlie answered proudly.

Don heard the unsaid words. "What about all the way back, Chuck?"

Charlie reddened a little, picked up the spoon and concentrated on the gelatin. "I may have needed a ride back." He dropped the spoon on the rolling table in front of him again.

Alan frowned. "You have to do more than pick up the spoon, Charlie. There's only one bite of that missing."

"I don't like green. I had some orange, earlier…but they don't have any more."

Alan studied him. "Honestly? Earlier today, you mean — not at some point earlier in your life?"

Don suppressed a smile and Charlie sighed. "Honestly, Dad. It's almost 10:30, I've had at least a whole day, already."

Alan nodded. "I told your brother we should have set the alarm."

Charlie's head began to loll a little against the chair. He yawned. "Dad. It's okay. I'm okay."

Don had been watching, and he was starting to wonder. "How long have you been up? Do you still have a fever? How's the pain level? Do you want something else to eat — or drink? Some juice, maybe?"

Charlie's eyes had closed, but he smiled tolerantly. "I said you could be Tonto, Don, not Jewish Mother." He opened his eyes and looked at Alan. "I've got one of those already."

"Hey!", Alan protested.

"I didn't say you weren't good at it!" Charlie yawned again.

Alan smiled and was about to echo at least three of Don's questions when the door opened and a nurse entered. She smiled at Alan and Don. "Good morning, gents. I'm Cecile, Charlie's nurse this morning," The men smiled at her and Alan introduced himself and Don as she approached the bed. She shook each man's hand as she passed, then stood over Charlie and appraised him with a practiced eye. She made a decision. "Charlie's been sitting up for almost 20 minutes. I'm going to help him back to bed and let him get some rest before this afternoon." She grinned at Charlie. "We're going for 30, then. And you walk both ways to the bathroom!"

Don stood up. He indicated the gelatin. "Is that all he can have?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know — he hates green. The kitchen assures me there will be other flavors by afternoon. If he tolerates the gelatin all right, we may try a broth for dinner, but for now…"

Alan stood and joined Don. "We'll step outside…"

She stopped him. "If it's all right with Charlie, you can stay. I can teach you how to help him transfer in and out of the bed."

Charlie nodded wearily, and the nurse rolled away the table and showed Don and Alan where to hold Charlie to help him stand. Don kept watching his face instead of the nurse and frowned at how pale he became on the way up.

"That's going to hurt for a few more days," the nurse said sympathetically, having apparently seen the same thing as Don. "So let him stand here for a second and catch his breath before you move on to the second part of the operation." Presently Charlie gave another brief nod and Cecile helped him pivot and sit on the bed, then lifted his legs in for him. He reclined carefully back against the pillows and she arranged the sheet over him. She smiled and placed her fingertips against his wrist, looking at her watch. After a few seconds she moved her fingers and went for the curly hair, brushing it off his forehead a little. Don was just thinking about how that curly hair could reduce even a professional nurse into…into…into a woman…when he figured out she was checking Charlie's fever. Damn. She was good. Her fingers lingered on Charlie's forehead and Don refocused.

"How's that gelatin sitting?", she asked. "The orange stuff. I see that you really don't like green."

Charlie grinned up at her. "Okay. I don't think it's going to reappear any time soon."

She smiled, took her hand from his forehead and reached into the pocket of her uniform, withdrawing a thermometer. While she ejected the sterile covering and placed it in his ear, she continued to talk. "How's the pain? I could talk to the doctor about upping the Demoral."

She withdrew the thermometer and Charlie shook his head. "I'm okay."

Alan could see the display from where he stood behind her. He spoke in a worried voice. "101? Isn't that higher than it has been?"

She patted Charlie on the shoulder and tried to turn to leave, but Alan was crowding her and had to step back first — but he wasn't doing it until she answered. She looked at Charlie. "Quite an advocate you have here."

Charlie was already almost asleep. His eyes were closed, but he managed to mumble "Dad…"

Alan smiled apologetically at Cecile and took a step back. "I'm sorry. But it is higher, right?"

"Only one degree, Mr. Eppes, and that's not unusual after the first time up, the first time walking, the first time eating. His temp did drop as low as 100 last night — a huge, 5-degree drop in just a few hours, and that's great. He's still on the antibiotic cocktail, but because of the ulcers we're avoiding things like Tylenol, so it may take a few days for things to level out to normal. Don't worry. I'll keep my eye on this." She touched his arm reassuringly as she squeezed past and gave him one last smile.

"Thank you, Cecile. I appreciate it." Alan watched her leave and then looked at Don. "I didn't see a wedding ring."

Don groaned. "Dad…she's a nurse. She's not going to wear her ring at work."

The two began to rearrange the chairs around Charlie's bed. "I'm just saying. It wouldn't hurt to find out if she's available. She's a lovely young woman."

"You saw her playing with Charlie's hair. I think you're talking to the wrong son."

Alan sat, took a book of crosswords off Charlie's bedside table and opened it. "She seemed to spend longer than was necessary shaking your hand, Donnie. Your brother is temporarily out of action. You have to take advantage of these situations."

Don grabbed the newspaper and sat down in a huff. He looked at his father. "So you're saying I can't get a girl to choose me over Charlie as long as he is conscious?"

Alan peered over his glasses. "No, Donnie, I'm not saying that at all." He stared at his son intently for a moment, and then Don saw a glint in the old man's eye. "Actually, Don, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying." He looked down and smiled into his crossword puzzle. "Go ahead. Prove me wrong."