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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At the park, Charlie reattached the child tether and warned Don that if he ran off, they would have to go home. He was already a little worn from being dragged throughout the toy store and didn't want a reoccurrence at the park. Charlie allowed Don to carry Buddy, this time pulling the toy's ear through the loop of Don's jeans. He closed the lid on his trunk, Larry lugging the laptop carrying case with all of Don's necessities, the blanket lying over it, while Charlie carried Don's new helmet, his soft bat, ball and Velcro-encased glove, as well as two gloves for him and Larry. A friendly voice behind them stopped them in their tracks.
"Professor Eppes, Professor Fleinhardt!"
They turned behind them, watching as a small, new car slid into the space next to theirs. Jimmy Nicholson came out of the driver's side, followed closely by his grandfather, Bob.
Charlie and Larry smiled, pleasantly surprised. Charlie dropped the equipment in his hands as the two men approached him, giving each one a quick hug.
Jimmy explained, "We were driving by and thought it was you. Grandpa Bob insisted we stop, see how you were doing."
Bob gently spoke to Don, asking, "Do you remember me, sweetie?"
Don moved behind Charlie. He remembered how badly he had been punished the last time he had talked to Bob. Badman will get me he thought, trying to hide behind his smaller brother, putting his arms around Charlie's waist and pressing his face into his back.
Bob's smile fell as he realized Don was frightened by him. "Well, it's good to see you're able to play baseball with your brother," he said quietly.
Wanting to talk to Bob, Charlie asked Larry to walk Don into the park, but no further than he could see them both. Larry agreed, dropping the carrying case and allowing Charlie to attach him to Don. Then, they put on Don's helmet and Larry picked up the rest of the sports equipment, leading Don into the park, stopping with him at a set of swings and offering to push Don. He helped Don wrap his arms around the chains holding the seat and he began to push gently, entertaining Don by explaining to him about fairies and sprites that supposedly lived in the trees.
With Don gone, Bob openly talked to Charlie. "I'm glad to see for myself he's okay. That friend of yours, Agent Reeves, called me Wednesday, told me to keep an eye on my neighbor- did a recognizance of Thompson's house. Didn't see nothing. Reeves called me back- said it was alright, your brother had returned. Too late for me- she'd tweaked my curiosity. Kept a watch on that house last two days- no activity, least not till Thursday night, lights on in the house again. And yesterday, funny-looking fella with big, ol' glasses comes by, gives my neighbor a lift, both of them dressed to the nines, like they're going to a funeral."
Charlie thought about what Bob was telling him. It sounded like Thompson and her lawyer had been up to something, but he had no idea what. "Thanks for telling me, Bob."
Charlie turned to Jimmy, seeing that the young man was leaning against his car, obviously wanting to show it off. Charlie commented on how nice it was.
Jimmy said bashfully, "It's one of three things I spent that award money on."
"Well, I'm glad you decided to spend it," Charlie told him. He pointed towards Don, smiling. "As you can see over there, I got my money's worth."
Jimmy beamed. He was glad to see that his professor was with his brother again. "I didn't spend all of it. Me and grandpa talked- I put away twenty thousand just in case, you know, if I want to settle down."
"He's got himself a girlfriend, that he does," Bob said, "pretty one, too. You know her- name's Cheryl Jacobson- worked at campaign headquarters helping to find your brother."
Jimmy's face flushed red. "Grandpa Bob, you don't have to tell everyone my affairs."
"Hmph! Rate you're going, tis a far cry from one affair whether alone several." Jimmy mumbled something about not rushing things, nervously excusing himself, saying he needed to check his engine. He popped the hood on his car and pretended to fool with it, not wanting to talk with his former professor about his love life.
Bob cracked a grin. "Gotta keep at him- if I ever plan to see great-grandchildren before I die."
"You really need to get together with my dad," Charlie laughed, "and have a good old-fashioned griping session."
"He has a yearning for a grandchild?" Bob asked.
"Grandchildren is more like it," Charlie stated. He looked over at Jimmy. His former student had moved to sit in the front seat of his car, playing with the stereo controls, unable to hear him and Bob talk. "You might want to watch out for Jimmy," Charlie warned Bob, "Cheryl never showed any interest in him before he received all that award money. I hate to say it, but a pretty girl like that might be after him for the money."
Bob shook his head. "After Jimmy for his little bit o' money? That's smart" Bob gave a chuckle. "Turns out, that gal's loaded." Charlie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Seriously," Bob said, "her father's an investment broker who got in on those computer machines back in the stone age- math professor or not, you can't count the number of zeroes behind her name."
"I never knew," Charlie said slowly, "but why the sudden interest in Jimmy?"
"Easy," Bob explained, "She was impressed when Jimmy donated one hundred thirty thousand award dollars to some missing children's place downtown L.A. Went with him myself to turn over the cashier's check. It's a small organization- was just about to fold when Jimmy saved the day." Charlie stared across to Jimmy, still in his car, amazed at the young man's act of charity.
"By the way," Bob added, "some guy runs the place said to give you a 'hello'- name of Malone, if I recall correctly."
Charlie wasn't sure when he had felt his spirits soar so high. It seemed like decades ago that he had talked to Malone about how to find his brother. The man had been kind to Charlie, even though the person Charlie was looking for was a grown man, not a child.
Charlie placed a hand at his neck. "I'm afraid I never did thank Malone for his advice on finding Don."
Bob snorted. "Thanks? Oh, Malone knows he got plenty of thanks from you. Don't think we didn't tell him whose money that really was. And Cheryl, she got her daddy to give 'em another million- just like that, the old man wrote out a check." Bob shook his head, awed by the ability of any human being to be able to give that amount of money away without it really affecting their bank account, like they'd dropped a dime on the floor and didn't bother to pick it up. "Malone told us he never thought spending a little time with you would get him such a high rate of return."
"Thank you," Charlie said sincerely, "for tying Jimmy and Cheryl's generosity to Don. If Malone can help others with their donations, then my family will know at least one good thing came out of his kidnapping."
Bob glanced over to his grandson. "Well, actually two things. I am positive Jimmy and Cheryl are heading to the altar soon. It would never have happened without them working together in your search."
"Okay," Charlie grinned, "two good things."
"Well, maybe four." Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Jimmy bought us a couple motorcycles- those are the two other things he spent his money on. Not ones like my old-fashioned beauty- modern Harleys with the full works, even have a couple hitches on the back and these small trailers we can drag behind us for all our belongings, side seats for the ladies of course." Bob preened about. "We're going to join a group of my war buddies in a week. They have bikes, too; when we're together, we're our own motorcycle gang, bad to the bone." Charlie stifled a laugh, picturing Bob in full Snoopy gear leading a bunch of similarly-attired older men as his posse. "Gonna go camp out in the wilds- been planning this trip a long time. Didn't expect I'd have bragging rights with my bike and I can't wait for the old warhorses to see it."
Charlie let Bob describe the new bikes a few minutes more, than he picked up the carrying case and blanket that had been left behind, bid goodbye to the old man, knocking on Jimmy's car window and waving, and he trotted forward to meet Larry and Don.
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Charlie was the leader, searching for a spot that was well-shaded, knowing it was not good for Don to be out in the sun because of his diuretics. When they found a spot in the midst of several oak trees, he laid down his carrying case and guiltily detached the child strap from Larry and Don, thinking that his father hadn't thought about the fact that it would have to be removed in order for them to play the game. Charlie chose to shrug the guilt off, having faith in his and Larry's abilities to keep his brother safe. He put Don's glove on his hand. Once Charlie and Larry also had on their gloves, the proceeded to play catch, laughing away the morning as they chased the ball, none of them able to keep a grip on it, breaking occasionally to take of advantage of the bathroom in a nearby pavilion.
Despite their mirth, when people walked by, Charlie and Larry were watchful, judging whether each person was a threat. And keeping true to his word, Charlie called his father every thirty minutes, giving his brother time to rest while he assured Alan that Don was safe. When they finally sat down to eat lunch, they spread out their blanket to sit upon, grateful that nobody suspicious had come their way. Charlie helped Don eat, conscious of Larry observing him, feeling a little like a specimen. When Don finished, it was his turn to watch as Larry and Charlie downed a sandwich and sucked in two bottles of sports drinks each.
After eating, Charlie insisted Don should take a nap, feeling the ground under the blanket to make sure there were no stones or sharp objects underneath, taking off Don's helmet and helping his brother to lie down, pulling Buddy's ear from his jeans and giving the toy to Don for him to hold. Charlie lay on his side next to Don, propped up on an elbow and singing softly, while Larry stood guard nearby, his arms crossed as if he were a bouncer at a bar.
When Don was asleep, Charlie stood up, calling his father. "How did your meeting go?"
"Not too bad. It sounds like the court investigator is going to ask Don basic questions, like how do we treat him, does he get enough to eat, what he does all day." Alan suddenly changed his voice tone, saying sarcastically, "Basically, are we starving and hitting him or locking him away in a closet."
Hearing his father's frustration, Charlie tried to soothe. "Dad, you know this is just a routine requirement to get conservatorship. It's good that they check to see if a placement is suitable. We don't abuse Don, but didn't Johnson say there are plenty of people out there that do harm the persons in their care?"
Alan harrumphed through the phone. "According to Johnson, it really doesn't matter what Don says because he has brain trauma and might not be thinking clearly; the court investigator is just going to look him over for signs of abuse, see that he has food and a place to sleep- nothing else is really important. Judge Salem will most likely decide where to put Don based on one thing only, and that's the fact that you have first rights to claim him."
"If the interview is just a formality, why are you so upset about it?"
Alan snapped at Charlie. "I don't care about the interview so much as I care about having the court order a person into my house to see if I'm actually providing food and a bed for my son. Do you know how insulting that is?"
"Well, considering I'm the one they're actually investigating, yes, I do think that I have some idea."
Charlie waited, his father silent on the other end. At last, Alan's voice sounded again, softer."I'm sorry, you don't deserve my anger."
"No, but there's not much that has happened to me lately- to us, that we have deserved, so I think I can handle a small dose of your anger."
"Having that good of a day, huh?" Alan's voice carried a laugh in its tone.
"Yes, we are. I wish you could join us."
"I could, but I think I'm going to trust my wonderful son to take care of his brother, and take a nap," Alan said, adding, "but only until his next call- in exactly thirty minutes, okay?"
"Promise Dad. By then, Don should be done with his."
Charlie clicked the phone off, standing next to Larry, watching out for strangers, maintaining his father's faith in him and taking care of his brother.
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Don awoke early, his hands covering his lap and curled in a ball, ashamed of what had he had done in public. Both Larry and Charlie could guess what had happened. Charlie whispered in Don's ear that it was alright, to stay still. Then he and Larry made a search of their surroundings, waited until no one was anywhere near them, Larry jogging to the bathroom at the pavilion with Buddy protectively in his arms and checking for people, Charlie helping Don to his feet and across to the bathroom when Larry indicated it was clear.
Once inside, Charlie pulled a piece of folded paper from the side of the bag, along with some tape. He went to the door of the bathroom, where Larry stood outside so as to try to prevent people from entering. Charlie taped the piece of paper to the door in an attempt to make Larry' job easier; his professional-looking sign had been printed off his computer right before they'd left home that morning, the words 'out of order' boldly in black, Charlie grinning when Larry stated his foresight was really quite impressive.
Back inside, Charlie stripped Don in the open space that they were now afforded, having thought ahead that a stall was not enough space to care for his brother in case he had an accident, aware that it would be a humiliating thing to clean and dress his brother in front of perfect strangers, even if Don himself was not conscious of his nakedness.
Within the two weeks that he had been caring for Don's personal needs, Charlie had fallen into an efficient routine. His first action was to always check for the condition of the chalk in Don's front jeans pocket. Happily, it was again okay, though Charlie decided he would replace it the next morning while Don slept, as it was breaking off small pieces because of the wear and tear that was a side effect of its unusual carrying place. He removed his shoes and socks, noting whether any liquid had escaped down Don's legs and into them, setting the shoes on the sink when he was positive they had not been affected, placing the socks in a baggie and pulling out a fresh pair, observant that Don had been sweating into the previous ones and it would be better that he have some dry ones put on.
Next, he quickly took off Don's jeans and boxers, rinsing them in the sink and wringing them out, folding them neatly and placing them each into their own heavy-duty plastic bag, zipping them closed and putting them in the front compartment of his carrying case, closing them inside. He then checked Don's shirt, and when no dampness was found on its hem or elsewhere, he lifted it up and bunched it under Don's arms so he could clean him from the waist down without getting the shirt wet, having Don stand with his legs apart while he took a large amount of baby wipes and thoroughly cleaned him, working his wary from Don's feet upwards, wanting to make sure he was complete in his job.
After throwing away the wipes, he applied some powder, wanting Don to keep the fresh scent that he had been carrying with him ever since he had come home, and then carefully worked in the rash medicine, not conscious of the fact that he was handling and touching his brother's most intimate body parts. When done, Charlie put on Don a fresh pair of special briefs, then his regular ones, pulled up his jeans and fastened them, tugged on two new socks and his shoes, tied them, and laid his t-shirt flat again, all in a little less than twenty minutes. As a last measure, he cleaned his own hands and took out two more baby wipes, cleaning Don's hands and face, giving his hair a couple swipes of a small hairbrush stuck in the side panel of his carrying case, slipping the three pieces of chalk back into his front pocket.
"All in all," Larry said when they emerged, fastening Buddy back onto Don's jeans, Charlie removing his sign and sticking it back in his bag, "a very impressive makeover."
Charlie smiled proudly, putting the bike helmet back on Don's head.
The three men went back to their picnic area, Charlie folding the blanket and laying it over the sides of his case once again, leaving it on the ground so they could play for a while more, calling his father first before they began.
Charlie lifted up Don's light bat, deciding it would be nice if Don could hit a few balls. He reached into one of the back side pockets of his carrying case, pulling out a glove that looked similar to the one Don used for eating. It was one of the new assistive devices that had come in the mail the prior week, and he was pleased they would finally get to try it out. It looked and fit like a batting glove, only it also had a long, wide strip of Velcro-covered material that jutted out from behind the tips of the fingers that could be folded over and fastened, keeping the hand closed and in place, allowing the wearer to grip anything that was elongated or shaped like a pole.
Charlie put the glove on Don's right hand, placed the bat in his palm and closed his hand around it, sealing it shut by bending the strap over and fastening its Velcro covering to some located at the base of the glove. Don moved his hand around, careful not to hit Charlie or anyone else, eyes wide that the bat did not drop from his hand. Charlie told him to stop moving and then he stood behind Don, lifting his brother's left hand to encircle the right so that it could help guide the bat's movement.
"Okay," Charlie backed away. "I'm going to pitch to you-see if you can hit a couple balls."
Don smiled broadly, his body remembering the proper batter's stance on its own, and he lifted the bat to his shoulder. It took twenty-five minutes for Don to hit his first ball. While Larry went to retrieve it, Charlie called his father and turned towards his friend, laughing when he came puffing up and handed Charlie the ball. "You sound like I felt this morning, being dragged around that toy store by Don."
"Ah, Charles," Larry breathed deeply, "is my current placement a mischievous sort of revenge upon my suggestion that Don would enjoy the store? Which he did, I might add."
"No, Larry, I just assumed you did not know how to pitch."
"Wrong assumption, my dear friend, but my lack of adequate air intake indicates to me that my body does require more exercise, so I will banish myself to the outfield in order to obtain it." He left Charlie, walking back to his prior position.
Charlie continued to pitch, Don hitting every other ball, Larry grunting as he went after each one. Some time into their game, three ten-year-old boys were passing on the periphery of their small sanctity and decided to watch the game. When Don hit a fly ball way past Larry and seeing the older man had not caught the ball, one of the boys shouted to Don, "Run!" caught up in the grownups' game.
Doing as he was told, Don dropped the bat by his side and ran, dragging it beside him, heading out from the trees into the main area of the park.
"Wait!" Charlie shouted, running after him, throwing an accusatory look at the boys as he passed them.
As they entered the open field of green, Charlie realized Don was really racing, speeding ahead of him with longer legs and a head start, seemingly oblivious to all the dangers that might be lurking around him, apparently not going to stop. Charlie knew if he wanted to catch Don, he was going to have to run harder.
Pumping his legs, Charlie bent his arms and leaned forward slightly, trying to propel himself after his brother. The sun was lowering in the east and as they sped through the park, Charlie was suddenly frightened, not knowing if he could catch up, wanting to will his body forward ahead of Don, not able to keep his brother's pace, not able to move faster, not able to lessen the distance between them, the world around them fading away as it was suddenly just him and Don, and he was chasing him, running after him, reaching for him, a brilliant fog surrounding them, wisps of people and trees and benches and bushes and shadows and dogs and lampposts and the ground under his feet, no substance to it, and he was falling further and further behind, his hand stretched forward trying to grab Don's shirt, his arm, his back, unable to reach, unable to get a hold, calling Don's name-
unable to catch Don in his brother's race to escape.
Suddenly, abruptly, Don stopped, turning in his tracks, laughing and smiling at his brother, his arms dangling at his sides, the tip of the bat resting on the ground. Charlie halted, almost running into Don. He bent over, catching his breath, trying to calm the beating of his heart. When Charlie was finally able to raise his head, he looked around and was shocked to see that he and Don had not gone but a few hundred yards from the clearing when it had seemed like they had been running forever.
Grabbing Don's hand, Charlie said sternly, "Don't ever run from me again, do you hear me?"
Don nodded, letting his brother lead him back to where Larry stood worriedly with the baseball in his hand. "I think we better head home," Charlie told his friend. Larry observed the lines of worry crawling across Charlie's face and conceded it would be best they left. Charlie realized that he needed to feed something to Don first, so Larry offered to take the sports equipment, including the helmet they had removed from Don, to the car, stating he would return when he had done so, thinking it might be best if one of them was unburdened and free to chase Don if he somehow managed to free himself from the child's strap on their way out of the park.
While he fed Don, Charlie thought about what had just occurred, wondering what would have happened if Don had not stopped, trying to ignore the gut feeling he had that if Don chose to run away again and did not stop on his own, Charlie would not be able to keep him from leaving, would not be able to catch him, would have to let him go.
It was a disheartening thought, one that Charlie chose to suppress as Don finished eating. Afterward, Charlie gladly re-tethered himself to his brother, making sure the strap was on properly and could not become unattached; then they headed slowly towards the exit to the park, Larry returning to walk with them before they had left their spot.
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There were two of them waiting, lying on either side of the path that led to the parking lot, causing disdainful expressions to appear on the faces of every parent that headed to a car with a child in hand. Few parents succeeded in passing them without paying one of them tribute, and Charlie found he was stuck in the same situation.
One look at Don's face and Charlie knew he'd have to buy him a balloon.
There was an older gentleman to their far right and farther along the park's paved pathway, nearer the parking lot; but a younger man had positioned his cart closer to the pathway and was the first one people would meet when exiting the park. So, Charlie chose to buy a bright red balloon from him, the man's placement allowing Charlie to give Don the small gift immediately.
Without thinking, however, Charlie paid for the balloon and took it from the vendor, handing it to Don while he waited for his change, the man not facing Charlie but talking to a friend who was leaning against the tree that the cart was sitting under. Of course, Don could not grip the string and it flew away, Larry jumping twice to try and grasp the trailing string.
Seeing Don's glum face, Charlie immediately apologized. "It was my fault, Don, not yours. Don't worry; I'll buy you another one."
Larry was leaning against the cart, waiting while Charlie shifted the carrying case he had slung over his shoulder in order to free his way to his back pocket again and pulled out his wallet, searching for exact change; that's when the scientist overheard the young man snicker quietly to his friend, "Stupid retard can't even hold a balloon."
Charlie finally decided to use a larger bill; he pulled it out of his wallet and was handing it to the man when Larry interceded, interrupting the transaction, walking between Charlie and the young man, snatching the money from Charlie's hand as he passed through and continuing down the path to the next vendor. Charlie stared after him several moments, confused by his friend's behavior. Trusting there was a reason for it, he headed after Larry, leading Don beside him.
"Do you have any association whatsoever with that young man over there?" Larry asked the second vendor, pointed back down the path.
The older man in front of him clicked his dentures, pushing them in and out quickly with his tongue. "No, definitely not. He rude to ya?"
Charlie and Don arrived, listening as Larry said, "No, not to me. He was insensitive to a friend of mine." Charlie frowned, understanding the younger vendor must have made a comment about Don. He was grateful Larry had kept him from supporting the guy's business.
Don had no idea to whom Larry was referring, or in what regards. He was fascinated by the older vendor's ability to click his teeth in and out of his mouth. Don grimaced, showing his own teeth, and tried to push them out with his tongue in a failed imitation of the vendor.
Larry looked at the balloons rising above their heads. He wanted to get his point across to the young man that had spoken so callously about Don. There were few children left in the park, limiting the vendors' opportunities to sell their supplies of balloons for that day.
"What payment would you require to purchase these?" Larry asked, indicating the twenty-two balloons bobbing lazily in the evening breeze.
The old man pushed his teeth out, thought about it, told him a hundred would do it. Larry went to hand the man Charlie's money, planning to add some of his own, when Don suddenly said, "No, just one," remembering his mommy had said his family was limited in the amount of money they had and confused as to whether a hundred dollars was a lot to Charlie.
Larry stopped, stared at Don, and sensed he did not want his brother to spend so much on him. He gave Charlie back his money and pulled out his own wallet, handing the vendor the required cash, informing Don, "I do believe that some of these are mine and Charlie's, maybe one for Buddy, if that's agreeable to you."
Don smiled, satisfied that he was not costing Charlie any money and that Larry had not bought all of the balloons for just him alone.
Charlie helped Larry tie four balloons to each of Don's wrists, one around Buddy's paw, and then they tied the remainder of them to each other, Larry quietly observing the soul-lifting attributes of the brilliant colors of red and yellow and bright blue. While he was busy attaching the last balloon onto Larry's left wrist, Charlie puzzled over Don's refusal to let him pay for more than one. His brother had accepted his purchasing the helmet earlier in the day, yet he had refused Charlie's offer this evening of more than one treat. It almost seemed as if Don thought he had limited funds and he wondered where he would get that idea. Thinking about the mortgage he had applied for and knowing he would meet later that week to go over the final papers, Charlie wondered if Don had at any time overheard him discussing the loan with his father or Larry. He made a mental note to put extra effort into keeping it a secret from Don; he felt there was no reason for his brother to feel guilty about money being spent on him, as Charlie knew the mortgage would supply them plenty.
When they finished, Larry insisted they reenter the park, leading them in a miniature parade past the other vendor, playfully batting his balloons back and forth with Don, mischievously winking at the young man, who glared at him and started pushing his cart, heading home.
They settled on a bench, Don in the middle, Larry whispering a modified Jules Verne tale about traveling in a balloon around the world and describing in detail the sights that would be seen, Don looking skyward at a red one in particular, the lightly bobbing object just above his head, imagining he could see everything Larry told him, slowly sinking in his seat and lowering his eyes, finally resting his head on his friend's shoulder, his balloons jerking up and down as his arms moved restlessly while he slept.
Charlie called his father to tell him they were on their way home, pushing several balloons forcefully out of his face, watching as the one attached to Buddy broke free and floated away.
He hung up his phone, staring at the blue circle as it escaped towards the sky.
"That's me, Larry," he said quietly.
Larry looked up, following his friend's eyes along the path that the balloon had taken, listening thoughtfully to Charlie.
"That's me without Don, like he once described me, my own little bubble, far away from everyone and everything in the world but numbers." Unconsciously, he slipped his hand into Don's. "Whenever in my life I have started to fly away, other people have tugged at me, tried to keep me near reality; only, I always managed to escape them, slipping through their fingers and their lives. It has never been like that with Don. He's been able to catch a hold of me anytime he's needed to, pull me down, tie me to him, so no matter what, I could never get away; at least, not when he didn't want me to."
Charlie turned to Larry. "I'm afraid that woman is going to take Don away from me, Larry, and then I don't know what I'll do. He keeps me grounded. If he leaves me, I think I'll be like that balloon, and float away, disappear from the world. And without Don in my life, I wouldn't care. I really need him, Larry."
Larry held Don's other hand, sadness welling in him that he could not help his friends.
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Charlie and Larry managed to help Don to the car, untying the balloons and pushing them into the back seat of the car, Larry guiding Charlie as he backed his car out of its parking spot, dropping off his friend and driving Don home. There, he went to call his father for help with Don and his items, but smiled amusedly when he saw Alan come storming out of the house and open the back door of the car, slipping through the balloons and putting an arm under Don; he had him in the house and up the front stairs before Don had cracked open an eye, Charlie gathering the laptop carrying case and all twenty balloons, taking them into the house, observing his father had sounded a lot more comfortable on the phone about having allowed Don to be gone at the park.
His father's anxiety about the whole day was even more evident to Charlie after he walked upstairs, carrying the balloons and leaving them floating in the hall. He took care of his own needs and placed Don's wet clothes in the hamper; when he entered Don's bedroom, his father was nervously checking his brother over top to bottom, Don already in his boxers and tee and leaning against Alan with his head over his left shoulder, Alan running his hands gently over his temple and feeling along his limbs, lifting his shirt and moving his boxes, picking up his legs and twisting them partway, glaring at Charlie when he found a tiny scratch on the back of Don's right calf.
Charlie actually opened his mouth to defend himself, the words ready to spill from between his teeth, when reason knocked him in the head and he realized the only words his father would accept from his lips were "I'm sorry", Charlie handing them over to Alan on a silver-plated tongue, silently sighing when his father chastised him for not being more careful.
Alan carefully laid Don in the center of bed and fell in beside him, needing the warmth of his son's body and the sleep. He had tried to nap earlier in the day, but he had been too anxious to stay in bed, spending the day prowling through the house and fighting off all the bad things that kept popping in his head- bad things that he was afraid would happen to Don. Every time Charlie had been scheduled to call, Alan had sat near the phone five minutes early, counting down the seconds until it rang. He had tried to sound unworried on the phone; he had faith that Charlie was taking good care of Don, and he did not want his youngest to think it had faltered. But Alan could not rid himself of the anxiety that had taken root in him from the moment Johnson had left, when his mind was no longer occupied with issues concerning the court investigator or the hearing and was free to roam, finding itself running again and again into dark corners in which menaces sat on their haunches, waiting to strike. His only reprieve had been during those times that Charlie called, when his youngest son's voice had assured him once again that his faith was justified and Don was safely with him.
Before getting into bed, Charlie went out into the hall and caught all of the balloons, tugging them into the bedroom. His father sat up partway, watching as Charlie released them to fly about the room. Alan sank back beside Don, assuming Charlie had purchased them for Don and had brought them into the bedroom because he wanted his brother to wake to see them in the morning.
Charlie did want Don to wake to them in the morning, but he wanted them in the room for himself that night. When Charlie slipped into bed beside Don, he put an arm under his head and watched the balloons settle against the ceiling, moonlight from the window shimmering off each orb. He thought about what he told Larry, that he was his own bubble. Here, in his home, with his father and brother beside him, Charlie enjoyed watching the balloons, thinking to himself that tonight all of them were him, pent up balls of energy stretched to their limits and wanting to break free, kept from flying away into the dark of night by the safe surroundings of his family and home-
by the strong presence of his brother beside him.