Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.
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Charlie let his brother and father sleep late, slipping out of bed at the crack of dawn, alone. After caring for his personal needs, he padded downstairs and out the front door, making sure he locked it, pulling the knob hard to be positive. Then, he dropped into his father's car and took off to a local twenty-four-hour superstore. Inside, he began searching for things he knew Don needed for his therapy but would not have to be bought from a specialty store. It did not take him long to find stickers the same star-shape and shade of red that Jim had used the previous day, knowing he needed them to help Don see how well he was doing. Charlie bought every last one. Seeing gold stars, he snatched them up, too; they would be used to track Don's weekly progress. He took his time looking over the charts that were hanging from a hook, deciding to buy several of each so that Don could pick out the one he liked best; in addition, he tossed more binders into his cart along with markers, labels, section separators, and plastic hooks that could be stuck to the wall. Remembering how Don had gotten into a strange man's car, Charlie got some glossy paper and a key chain that could hold ten photos.
As he went up and down the aisles, he grabbed magazines, crossword books, word searches, Soduku puzzles, various types of flash cards-including blanks- and an array of children's books that he remembered from childhood. In the toy aisle, every board game that he did not own was added to the growing collection of items in his cart, along with a large assortment of puzzles, ranging in size from 60 to 1,000 pieces.
Not owning the latest video hardware, he had to get an attendant to obtain one from behind a glass case, and then asked for advice about the most mentally challenging games to go with them. He bought a joystick and a steering wheel, the former so Don could manipulate the games with his palm if he could not coordinate using different buttons, the latter so he could practice driving; Charlie assumed the speed in the video games would be akin to the car chases Don had been in while pursuing wayward criminals. He also took several DVDs of cartoons that he recognized from the Saturday mornings of his youth. These items he had to purchase in the electronics section, so he waited patiently while the clerk double-wrapped the merchandise and placed them on the bottom of the cart, reminding him to keep out his receipt for the attendant at the exit door.
Next, he went to the grocery section, choosing a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables. When he got to the frozen treats, he picked out ones that were made from fruit juice, checking each label carefully for sodium levels, knowing Don had to limit his intake because of his diuretics. Thoughtfully, he also picked up a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, knowing it was his father's favorite. In the meat aisle, he chose several steaks in hopes that a good grinding in the food processor would allow Don to swallow the meat, but also challenge him to chew. Checking the candy aisle, he was pleased to find a large plastic bag of safety suckers, just like the ones Jim used. He looked around until he found a clear acrylic jar, not exactly like the one at the institute, but hopefully similar enough to remind Don of his prior success while there.
Before he was finished, he stopped to pick up more briefs, but then thought about other things that might be necessary to meet Don's physical needs. Charlie noticed pads with liners that could be placed under the sheets on a bed; he lowered several down from the shelf, checking the sides of the boxes to make sure they could be easily cleaned. He then turned into the baby aisle and tossed several containers of baby wipes, diaper rash medicine, and powder into his cart, making sure to include travel sizes. Charlie looked at the diaper bags and determined that if Don was going to leave the house, it would be prudent to have something to carry backup clothing and necessities; however, a bag covered in ducks would be too embarrassing for his brother. So, he took a detour back to office supplies and decided on a large laptop carrying case, its roomy interior perfect for extra clothing and the numerous side pockets useful for holding anything else that was needed. Best of all, no one had to know what the case actually contained.
Charlie paid for his items and headed for the exit, pulling out his receipt for the electronics and handing it to the attendant, who checked his bags and returned the slip of paper, giving Charlie a toothless smile as he waved him through the door.
Once home, Charlie put away the food items, cleaning the fresh produce before tucking them away in the fridge. Then, he set to work on the rest of his purchases. He stuck a hook on the wall of the solarium- for the daily chart- and at the bottom of the stairs- for the weekly chart; he wanted Don to see how well he was doing every time he went up and down the stairs, especially first thing in the morning, when he might not be feeling so good about himself. Next, he set up a card table in a corner of the solarium; he had decided that the room would be the focal point of Don's rehab. Dragging the couch from the garage, he placed it against one wall; he then pushed the television on its cart and his dad's recliner into the room, positioning the T.V. in front of the couch and the recliner next to it. He put the suckers in their jar, and placed them, along with the stars, on the card table. Charlie set out the board games, puzzles and reading material he'd bought, along with the video games, and the practice items from the institute; he'd found them when taking out his packages that morning, left in the car by Alan the previous night. It only took him fifteen minutes to hook the video system up to the television, but almost another twenty to figure out how to hook up the special remote control he'd bought at the institute, as he hadn't thought to ask for instructions. The new DVDs were easily placed next to the television.
Checking the time, Charlie set the personal items he'd bought Don on the dining room table. He expertly filled the laptop case, leaving its center section open for Don's clothing; he didn't want to wake him or Alan, so he put it next to the stairs until he could access his brother's room. He carried the rest of the stuff upstairs, careful to put it discreetly in the hall closet. Afterwards, he put Don's eating tools in the kitchen and clipped to one corner of the table the carousal holding the knife, fork and spoon with attached magnet. He sat down at the dining room table, reorganizing the binders he had developed on Don, reassessing his notes and writing in new information, using his newly acquired labels and dividers to make new sections.
Finally, Charlie went to the hall closet, pulling out a collection of photo albums; carrying them into the garage, he set about scanning fairly recent pictures of himself, his dad, and close friends and family members. Looking through the back of one album, he was glad to find photos from a barbecue that David, Megan, and Colby had attended; in the picture, their arms were around each other and Don, beers cheerily held in raised hands. On his laptop, Charlie cut and reduced the size of his pictures, then printed them out on the glossy paper he had purchased. Carefully, he cut out seven squares the size of the acrylic frames that were hanging from the keychain he had bought, each one with a different person's face on it: Charlie, Alan, David, Megan, Colby, Amita, and Larry. He knew Don was probably still harboring bad feelings toward his team members, but he decided it was about time they start talking about why they were actually the good guys and could be trusted. Besides, if anything else bad happened, Charlie wanted Don to know who he should turn to if it was a choice between his friends and a stranger. Continuing with his work, Charlie filled the remaining two frames with a generic picture of a policeman in full uniform and a small square with the numbers 9-1-1 printed on it. The last frame he fitted with Don's personal information: name, address, and Charlie and Alan's home and cell phone numbers; Charlie made sure to put those in red.
As he swung the completed keychain around a finger, Charlie left the garage and went upstairs to wake his family.
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After giving Don his bath and dressing him, Charlie hooked the new keychain onto the loop of Don's pants, showing Don the picture of their dad and himself, telling Don that anyone else on the keychain would be safe to go with. He discreetly avoided showing him the other pictures, hoping to discuss them at a later time. Charlie did show Don the frame with the family phone numbers on it; he told Don that if they were ever separated and he needed him, he would only need to call one of the numbers. To be sure Don understood, he made him practice dialing the numbers on the upstairs extension with his left index finger, a routine he would make Don do every morning from then on, even after Don said he remembered the numbers, he really did.
When Charlie was satisfied, he took Don downstairs and helped him eat breakfast. Wanting to evoke in Don the feeling of family, Alan insisted they eat together, which made Don happy, though Charlie had to wait to eat until he had finished helping Don swallow his meal. When done, Charlie ran upstairs and slipped the newly bought pads under Don's sheet, not wanting to embarrass him with this new precaution. Taking two sets of clothes from Don's dresser, Charlie trotted back downstairs, putting them in the laptop case. At last, he took Don into the solarium and showed off the things he had bought, excitedly telling Don that he had gotten everything for him. He was repaid with a grateful smile; Charlie considered it a fair return on his money.
The two brothers spent the morning dividing their time between the chew straws, licking popsicles, and gripping exercises with the plastic dough. Charlie was careful not to overtax Don; in-between each exercise, he let Don pick a new cartoon DVD to watch, but he did as instructed by Olivia and asked questions about the characters on the screen and what his brother could remember about having seen them before, trying to help Don retrieve even the tiniest memory. None were captured, but Charlie was not discouraged; Don had been home less than a week and they were just starting his rehabilitation. He reminded himself of their new family motto: things will get better.
Alan stayed with his two sons, watching them with loving eyes, grateful to be in their presence. The first thing he'd done that morning had been to check every room in the house, and then to make sure all the doors and windows were securely locked. He had timed his actions to coincide with Don's bath time. He had not wanted Charlie to worry about him, sure that the 'few more things' his son had wanted to talk about today would include his overprotective behavior of wrapping Don in the sheet. Alan knew it had been an excessive act, but he could not have slept if he had not felt his son was safe throughout the night. And he couldn't help enjoying the closeness to Don that it allowed him to have, especially because he was positive it was temporary, considering Don's habit of distancing himself from those he loved.
While he worked on a Soduku puzzle, sitting across from his sons, Alan tried to figure out how well he was going to handle Don leaving the house; their next appointment was that Thursday, for aqua therapy, and he was not sure how he would react to being at the institute again, specifically in its parking lot. He was also trying to decide which day would be good to apply for a restraining order against Dr. Thompson. Originally, he had planned to get one that day. But he had felt the need to be with Don as he started his home therapy, wanting to be supportive of both him and Charlie. Whenever Don did something Charlie told him to do, Alan would put down his puzzle and cheer him on, giving Charlie an approving nod of his head and a smile. He was certain Charlie knew how proud he was of him with the simple gestures.
When Alan got up to prepare lunch, Charlie took advantage of the alone time with Don to gently ask his brother about Dr. Thompson's visit the previous night. Don sank back against the couch, crossing his arms and lowering his eyes away from him. The only response he'd give Charlie was "Mommy's secrets," refusing to say another word. Charlie finally gave up, not wanting to stress his brother, whose eyes had been drooping towards sleep for nearly a half hour. Considering Don's physical state, Charlie was surprised he had been able to do as much as he had.
After a successful lunch, it was nap time. Alan yawned loudly, expressing a need for some rest, too, as they had been up so late the night before. He ignored Charlie's disbelieving stare as he followed Don to his room, quickly wrapping his eldest in the top sheet, hoping Charlie had not come up, too, but embarrassed when he saw him standing in the bedroom's doorway, his arms crossed disapprovingly against his chest to indicate his father was being overprotective. Guiltily, Alan started to take the sheet off Don, but to Charlie's consternation, Don indicated he wanted to be under the protectiveness of the sheet. Trying not to grin in triumph, Alan rewrapped him and held him close, giving him a kiss on the top of the head. Smiling, Don fell asleep, not voicing aloud his decision that Daddy's arm felt better around him than Mommy's.
With plenty of energy at his disposal, Charlie took advantage of the free time to organize notes for his classes and fax them to Cal Sci, including a message that if the professors taking over his work needed any help, they should contact Larry first, then another one of his friends, then the head of the math department, then finally him- but only if it was an emergency.
Thinking of his friend, Charlie called him, updating Larry on Don's condition and the events of Monday evening, eliciting murmurs of dread from the older gentleman. Charlie quietly complained that he thought his father was on a steep road that would lead him to seriously overprotect Don, which might end up limiting his brother's ability to become self-sufficient, but Charlie was not sure if he was correct in his supposition, especially if he took into consideration all that they had recently been through. He asked Larry to come to the house the next day, if possible (always possible, Charles, but not always prudent), so the wiser man could give him his opinion on how to proceed. Charlie received a promise that Larry would indeed like to visit with Don, and would try to offer some advice about Alan, but only after he had properly gathered the necessary empirical data. When they ended their call, Charlie set about making dinner, noting how quickly the day had passed.
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When Charlie woke his family, Alan sat up readily and took the sheet from around Don, heading to the bathroom. However, Don remained still, not responding to Charlie. Sitting on the bed next to his brother, Charlie used his fingers to brush Don's hair, gently asking him what was wrong. With tears in his eyes, Don looked down to his lap. Understanding, Charlie waited for Alan to go downstairs before taking Don into the bathroom and doing a quick clean up job, as the accident had been small. But Charlie noticed Don's mood had changed, his face pulled down in embarrassment and shame despite Charlie's assurances that it was alright.
When they sat down to eat dinner, Alan set Don's plate up first, leaving to get regular plates containing the un-ground food he and Charlie would eat. Charlie sat at Don's right side, facing him, and put Don's glove onto his hand. Though he had used the glove to pick up his spoon for breakfast and lunch, Don refused to do so for dinner; instead, Charlie had to do it for him. Trying to shake off the spoon like he had at the institute, Don grumbled "This for babies."
Charlie frowned. He wondered if the purpose of Dr. Thompson's visit had been to convince Don that he was still a little boy. Seeing his brother's sullen face, Charlie became convinced that something along those lines must have occurred, which would account for why he allowed her to feed him the bottles. Charlie knew he and his father needed to keep reinforcing Don's use of the manipulative tools if they had any hope of him becoming independent and whole again.
With that in mind, he tried to explain, "No, Don. It is not for babies. It is for grown people who have a hard time picking up thin or small things, like spoons and forks."
Ignoring Charlie, Don stared at the ground food in his special plate. Poking it with his left index finger, he complained, "Baby food, too."
Alan had just come from the kitchen, carrying two plates. He stopped halfway through the swinging door when he overheard what Don said. Alan and Charlie exchanged a glance, a quick understanding passing between them. Turning on his heels, Alan went back into the kitchen.
"Don, it's not baby food. It is just a different texture from what some people eat."
"You don't eat it."
Five minutes later, Alan returned, carrying the same plates as before. Purposely, he put Charlie's plate down slowly, immediately adjacent to Don's. Alan sat down to Don's left, sitting close to him with both of their plates touching. His mouth slacked open, Don maneuvered over in his chair, his body in front of Alan's, so he could look at his father's plate from different angles: the same ground food that he was going to eat filled it. Surprised, he turned his attention to Charlie's plate and found it contained the same.
Don sat back in his seat, guiltily telling Alan, "Didn't have to."
Alan told him, "No, I didn't have to; I wanted to. I like good food, Donny, but I love you. Anything that makes things better for you, well, it makes me happy." Alan bent to kiss him on the side of the head three times, telling Don quietly, "You make me happy."
Smiling, Don moved forward on his seat, bobbing up and down in excitement. His hand darted out and he scooped up some carrots, pushing them into his mouth. Charlie quickly got his hand into position, pulling down on Don's throat. About halfway through the carrots, and for the first time that day, Don noticed his brother wasn't eating with him. Aware of his family's selfless act in eating the ground food, Don wanted to be considerate, too. He looked at Charlie's plate and pointed. "What about you?"
Charlie shook his head. "I can wait until you're done."
Since Charlie was going to be eating the same food as him, Don scooped up some of his veggies and carefully moved his hand towards Charlie, offering him the food.
Alan snickered, noting, "Well, Charlie. It looks like your big brother wants to feed you like he used to do when you were little." Hearing his father's words, Don recalled how his mommy had asked if he knew what he had done for Charlie when he was younger, and what he could do for him now. Because of his father, he now knew he had fed Charlie when he was little, and Don wanted to prove he could do it again; taking care of his brother in this way was a small repayment for all that Charlie was doing for him. Don pushed the spoon up against his brother's closed lips. Giving in, Charlie opened his mouth to accept the food.
Satisfied, Don fed himself a bite. He scooped up another and offered it to Charlie, who ate it. With permission from Charlie, Alan leaned over and scraped the contents of Charlie's plate into Don's.
The two brothers got a sort of rhythm going. Don alternated between feeding himself and Charlie, putting a bite of food into his mouth while Charlie massaged his neck, then offering a bite to his brother. Alan thought that his two sons worked well together, though he noticed that Don sometimes pushed the spoon into Charlie's mouth a little too fast in his eagerness to show off how helpful he could be, but Charlie never complained, nor so much as made a disapproving face.
Overwhelmed with happiness and touched by a bit of ego for being able to take care of Charlie, Don got a mischievous glint in his eyes when they neared the end of the meal. As he had been doing, Don put his spoon in front of Charlie when it was his turn for a bite, only to tug it away when Charlie leaned forward to eat it. Putting the contents into his own mouth, Don grinned. However, Charlie had to move fast, pulling down on Don's throat so he wouldn't choke. Still grinning, Don took another scoop of vegetables and offered it to his brother. But Charlie was on to his game. He pretended to try to eat the offered food, but kept his hand near Don's throat, ready to go, not in the least surprised when Don popped the food into his own mouth once again.
Don laughed; he was enjoying his game with Charlie. Exaggerating a long sigh, Charlie said, "I can't believe I keep falling for that fake." He was enjoying their little game, too, glad that Don was no longer sad.
Proud of his trick, and completely oblivious of the fact that Charlie knew what was coming, Don filled the spoon and offered it again. But when he pulled it away from Charlie this time, he was laughing too hard to immediately eat it, so he kept the spoon elevated in front of his mouth until he could. He was so intent on how well he had fooled Charlie that he forgot about his father, who swooped in from his left and expertly cleaned his spoon before Don knew what had happened.
"Mmmmm," Alan said, loudly smacking his lips, a bigger grin on his face than Don had sported.
His eyes wide in surprise, Don held his spoon upright in front of his face, not believing it was empty and that he had been the one who was fooled.
Finally, he stared at Alan, acknowledging his father's impressive swiftness with awe. "You're sneaky."
Alan laughed, "Yes, that I am, Donny. And don't you forget it."
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Charlie helped Don finish his therapy for the day. Alan cleaned up the kitchen, and then joined them in the solarium, participating with his usual vocal praises and trying to exert the same exuberance as Charlie. Alan was coming to realize that the more time he spent with his boys, that, yes, the happier and more relaxed he was- but also, the more energy he lacked. While Don played busily with the new remote control, Charlie placed the last of ten stickers on the baseball-covered chart Don had picked out earlier in the day.
"Congratulations, Don," Charlie crowed, limitless enthusiasm pouring out of him, "You earned all of your stars today." He opened up the jar of suckers and helped Don pick one out, just like Jim had done. After unwrapping a red one, Charlie looped it over Don's fingers. He left Don watching a baseball game, sitting next to Alan, while Charlie went to put ten gold stars on the weekly chart at the bottom of the stairs.
Alan tried to work on a crossword puzzle, but found his eyes were too tired for reading. Putting his glasses into his pocket, he laid his head back for the five-minute break Don's therapist had told him he would be allowed. Two minutes into it, Alan heard a series of thumps. He opened his eyes and sat up. Don was eagerly trying to drag a children's book across the floor with his left hand, the right one holding the remains of his sucker. Looking to the card table, Alan noticed half its contents on the floor. He patiently waited while Don half-dragged with his hand, half-shoved with his foot, the book across the floor to where he sat.
Bending over, Alan picked up the book and put it on his lap, waiting for Don to drop down next to him on the couch.
Alan pulled out his glasses, shut the volume off on the T.V., and read to Don, enjoying the comforting feel of his son's body against his left arm as Don peered over his shoulder at the pictures in the book. There was the smell of cherry on Don's breath, which came from the sucker that he still busily licked, his lips and the area surrounding his mouth red with the candy.
Charlie came in and saw the mess that Don had made. His question as to how it happened was answered when he saw his father and brother on the couch, book in hand. He carefully rearranged the items back onto the table and stepped into the garage, wanting to give them some time alone. While they were occupied, he planned to search online for the assistive devices that Don needed, his plans to purchase anything and everything that Don might want or need. Minutes later, he heard the sound of things falling in the solarium, but ignored it, assuming Don had decided he wanted to be read another book. In this assumption, he was correct.
Don sat down next to Alan, waiting for him to pick up the second book. When Alan bent over, his back creaked and he grimaced from the pain. He had to wait a few minutes before he could straighten, and made a face when he finally sat up, trying not to groan because he did not want to scare Don.
Getting comfortable, Alan had just started to read when he felt Don leaning into him. He went silent when three sloppy-sticky kisses were smeared on the side of his face. Peering questioningly at Don over the top rim of his glasses, Alan almost broke down when his goofily smiling son, acutely aware of his father's pain, summed up all his strength to inform him in a deep but childlike voice, "You make me……..happy."
Despite the moistness rimming his eyes, Alan resumed reading, wondering if Charlie could determine exactly how long, if untouched, the candy-coated kisses would last on his cheek.