Chapter 17

Alan was persuaded to go home that evening, but was back before breakfast the next morning. Under his watchful eye, both sons made inroads on the trays of hospital food, although he wasn't pleased with either of them.

By 9:30, nurses had Charlie up and navigating the room on crutches. On the way to the bathroom, he paused at the end of Don's bed, and Don got a good look at him for the first time. The injuries visible to him looked horrible enough — especially the bulky bandage around his upper arm, the one that Don knew he had put there — but the vacant look in Charlie's eyes as he tried unsuccessfully to smile at him, chilled Don to the bone. After just a few minutes of practice in the room, the nurse actually took him into the corridor for a longer walk, and Alan trailed behind, unwilling to believe it was a good idea.

Just five minutes later they were back; Charlie tired, but steady on his crutches; Alan triumphant. Don suspected the walk may have gone on longer, without Alan's input.

Another nurse had started Don's traction while they were gone, and given him another shot, and he soon drifted off, waking in a few hours to the sound of Megan's whisper. "I need to take Charlie's statement, Mr. Eppes."

Alan sounded upset. "You see that the boys are both sleeping. Do you have to do this now?"

"I'm awake," Don and Charlie both said at the same time, and Alan turned from the foot of Don's bed to glare at him.

"Go back to sleep, young man."

Megan winked on the way past, as she and Alan approached the far side of Charlie's bed.

"…has to do it, Dad…", Don heard, and then he heard Alan sigh.

"I know. I suppose I can go to the cafeteria for an early lunch…"

Charlie spoke louder. "No. I'll leave, Dad. Megan and I can go down to the sun room. Lift my leg out of the bed like they showed you, and hand me my crutches."

Alan took a step back. "Charlie. You just got back. It's too soon for another walk."

Don expected an argument and was kind-of surprised when he heard his brother bypass his father altogether. "Megan, you can help me. I'll tell you what to do."

Don heard his father sigh and saw him head for Charlie's bed again. "All-right, Charlie. I know you want to go home tomorrow if you can, so maybe you should be up more. But at least use the wheelchair. We don't know how long this will take."

Don watched and listened with interest as the tableau unfolded. Charlie finally nodded, and Alan went to the far corner of the room and retrieved the chair, brought it to Charlie's bed and lowered the rail. "Do you want me to go with you?", he asked quietly, as he helped Charlie transfer from the bed to the chair.

"No, thank you," Charlie said in an almost disinterested voice, and Don shuddered a little. The polite guy from McDonald's was back.

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Megan pushed Charlie's chair into the sun room at the end of the corridor. Only one other patient was there, and she headed for the opposite side of the room, parked Charlie and took a chair facing him. She took out her notebook and told herself that this was just another victim interview.

She took a deep breath and prepared to start her questions, but Charlie beat her to it. "How did you find me?"

Megan was momentarily nonplussed. No-one had told him? She lowered the notebook to her lap. "Well…Larry was a big help. We all kind-of got to the same place at the same time, separately — and then Larry and Alan received the thumb drives you mailed them. Things progressed fairly rapidly after that — and your father is responsible for most of it."

Charlie looked surprised. "My father?"

Megan couldn't help herself. She grinned. "Alan Eppes," she said, "is a force to be reckoned with. He talked Larry into helping him knock out the agent who was protecting them at the safe house." Her grin faded. "He relieved the agent of his weapon, confronted Merrick here at the hospital, in Don's room — your dad busted the bad guy, Charlie. And from the information on the drives, bluffed Merrick into admitting where he was holding you."

Charlie stared at her for a moment. A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head. "Damn. And to think I just took him on over the whole getting out of bed thing."

Megan laughed, relieved to hear something so…Charlie-like…coming from the shell-shocked man who sat before her. She hated to chase that guy away, but she knew it would happen. She raised and opened the notebook again. "So tell me everything. From when Don first called you in on the case."

Half an hour later, Charlie's voice was taking on that raspy, almost-got-laryngitis quality it got when he was very tired, or very emotional. Megan considered the story he had just told her, and figured he was both. She quietly closed the notebook and placed a hand on his arm, fingertips brushing the bandage around his wrist. She tried to suppress her shiver, imagining what that last 15 minutes had been like for him.

Finally she stood. "I'll take you back, now," she said, but Charlie lifted a hand to stop her.

"No…please…I just want to stay here for a while." The other patient had left, and Charlie was alone in the sun room. "Just park me a little closer to the window, and tell my Dad where I am, okay?"

Megan stood and regarded him. He looked tired…but so much had been taken from him, in those three days he was tortured. Then, he was rescued and brought to a hospital — where doctors and nurses and a well-meaning father took away all his decisions again. So she did it. She parked him at the window, rubbed his shoulder a few times, and finally left, to ask Alan to leave him alone for a while.

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Charlie stayed in the sun room through three visits from nurses and two from his father — who, to his credit, didn't even try to talk Charlie into coming back to bed for almost an hour. He stayed in the sun room until Larry found him there, late in the afternoon.

The professor stood next to him silently and looked out the window for almost five minutes. When he finally spoke, it was a question. "Charles — what do you see?"

Charlie sighed a little. "It changes," he admitted. "Sometimes, just buildings and smog. Sometimes, the flame of that damn little cigarette lighter. Sometimes, Amita."

Larry looked down at him. "It's a horrendous tragedy, Charles. All of it."

Charlie didn't answer. Larry squatted next to the chair. "You've been here for almost six hours, Charles. Your brother and father are worried. I know you want to be released tomorrow, but the doctor won't do that if he can't even get you out of the sun room."

Charlie turned his gaze away from the window and looked at the friend he had been willing to die for. He smiled a little. "Megan told me you and Dad assaulted a federal agent."

Larry hung his head. "Oh, dear. Dear. Charles, I have a much clearer understanding of you, now. That man can be an extremely overwhelming force when he wants to be." He used the arm of the wheelchair to pull himself back up. "May I take you back, now? He sent me down here after you, and I'm actually afraid to return without you."

Charlie nodded briefly, and Larry pushed his friend back to his room, where Don and Alan waited anxiously. Just finishing setting up Don's traction, a nurse grabbed Charlie's crutches when she saw him come through the door. "Just stop there," she ordered.

Alan made a noise but she cut him off. "He'll just use the restroom and then use the crutches to get back to bed, Papa Bear. It'll be all right."

Don listened to Alan's muttered reaction and turned his head away until he could control his expression, then gave up and looked back at his father. "Papa Bear," he said quietly. Alan glared at him. "You. You're tied down for two more weeks. I know where to find you. Think about that."

Finally, Charlie was ushered back to bed, his leg propped back on its pillows. It was almost time for dinner, and it turned out to be all he could do to stay awake through a bowl of soup.

Then, for the first time in almost six days, Charlie slept because he was tired, and not because he was unconscious. Exhausted as he was, the unhappy wrinkle never quite left his brow, and as Alan watched him sleep, he tried to will it away.