Chapter 18

Charlie was released the next afternoon. Cecile had promised his doctors that she would see him daily, changing dressings on the several small burns and generally overseeing his recovery. Don watched sullenly from the bed as his Dad packed up his brother, unhappily resigned to two more weeks in the hospital. The only thing that made the afternoon bearable was the fact that Cecile had the day off, and was spending the rest of it with him, so Alan could get Charlie settled in at home.

Just before his Dad and Charlie left, three men in black waiter's jackets entered the room, pushing a cart and carrying packages. Cecile stood uncertainly and Don looked at his father, who was smiling. "What did you do?"

Alan looked at Don. "It's a nice dinner for two. Non-hospital fare. These men work for Donna."

Don looked confused. "The caterer? I thought you guys…"

"We're friends," Alan supplied. She's an excellent chef, and she was very pleased to do this for you. I'm sure you'll both enjoy it."

Don watched the men setting up a card table near the bed for Cecile's dinner, saw a bouquet of flowers come out of nowhere and decorate his rolling table. He grinned at a stunned Cecile, who looked at Alan and stammered.

"I…this…we…"

Even Charlie smiled as Don and Alan laughed at Cecile's consternation. Alan crossed a few feet to hug jer warmly, and winked at Don over her shoulder. Then he returned to push Charlie's chair out the door.

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When he came back the next morning, bursting through the door before 10, Don looked behind him expectantly and was sorry to see that Charlie wasn't with him.

Alan recognized the disappointment for what it was, and he tried to smile reassuringly as he approached a chair. Since Charlie's bed had been removed from the room, there were a few more to choose from. Alan picked the one closest to Don, of course. "Good morning, son! How was dinner?"

Don smiled back, knew that he was blushing and reddened even more in embarrassment. "It was great, Dad. The food, the company — thanks for doing that. I'll be here two more weeks, by the way."

Alan laughed. "I'll try to arrange something for every evening Cecile has off and can spend with you, okay? Maybe not a catered meal every time…take-out from Rosario's or something."

Don brightened for a moment and then tried to quell his obvious pleasure. "No, really, Dad, I was just kidding. You don't have to do that."

Alan kept smiling. "Nonsense. How many fathers get to help their 36-year-old sons date? You can come up with some ideas, too, you know — we can get a VCR or DVD player in here, and you two can have a movie night. I'll bring popcorn."

Don's mind began whirling. He wanted to think of something special himself, so Cecile knew it was coming from him and not his father. He shelved those thoughts temporarily and refocused on his missing brother. "Charlie didn't come?"

Alan shrugged. "He didn't feel up to it."

"Is he okay?"

Alan reassured him. "Yes, he's just tired. He knows I'll be here for several hours — probably all day. I think he just doesn't want to try to sit here that long."

Don picked at the bedspread. "Dad…it's great having you here, after being alone so long…but you don't have to spend so much time here. I'm not really sick, I'm just tied up at the moment." Alan laughed, and then Don continued. "Now that Charlie's home, I'll understand if you can't be here as much."

Alan tilted his head slightly. "Charlie starts his physical therapy on Monday morning — five days a week, can you believe that? Only a few minutes at first — it will take us longer to drive there than the actual session. Anyway, by the time I get him home and settled, I probably won't get here until the afternoons once the weekend is over."

"That's fine," Don repeated. "Whatever Charlie needs. Is he alone, or is Larry with him today?"

Alan's look turned a little pensive, and Don felt the familiar gnawing of concern. "He offered. It's Saturday; no classes. But Charlie…Charlie seems a little reluctant to be around him." Alan suddenly sighed. "Let's face it. He's uncomfortable around you and I, too."

Don had a sudden insight. "He's scared. Look what loving us convinced him he should do."

Alan visibly shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and nodded. "That could be it. Megan is actually with him today. She called this morning and asked if that would be all right."

Don was surprised, but he didn't know why. Charlie and the team's profiler had always been friendly. It was both a relief and a concern that she was obviously concerned about Charlie, though. He made a mental note to ask to see the report of her interview with Charlie.

"You know, it's interesting…" Alan's tone indicated that he was thinking as he talked. "Colby called also. He's coming for half a day tomorrow. Morning." He looked at Don. "Think I'll be hearing from David, soon?"

Don smiled, grateful beyond measure to his team. "Pretty sure you can count on that, Dad."

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Alan was right.

Once Charlie's therapy started, it was after noon before he could get to the hospital. Charlie was always too tired to come with him, preferring to stay at home and nap during the afternoon. Alan was reluctant to leave him alone for very long, and his visits to Don were already becoming greatly reduced. Finally, Alan threatened to call in Aunt Irene, but at that Charlie had his therapist and his doctor tell him it was all right for him to spend a few hours a day alone. He promised before witnesses not to try and negotiate the stairs on his own, and Alan nervously let him have his way.

On Wednesday, Alan brought Don a DVD player, the movies he had requested, and a huge bag of popcorn. Cecile was working that day, but her shift ended at 7, so Don didn't see any reason to wait for a night at the movies — a night interrupted every 48 minutes by traction, but he'd take what he could get.

Alan watched a hospital maintenance employee hook up the DVD player, and Don watched Alan. He seemed a little…worried. When everything was ready to go, and maintenance had left, Alan continued to pace beyond the bed, not sitting down.

"What's wrong?"

Alan looked at Don, gave him the most false smile he had ever seen, and sat in the chair he was closest to at the moment. "Nothing. I'm sorry. Just a little distracted. Do you feel up to a game of checkers?"

"If I king you first, will you tell me what's wrong?"

Alan raised an eyebrow at his son. "Do I need to remind you I disarmed a federal agent in better shape than you are in at the moment?"

Don smiled. "Please. Don't."

Alan's returning smile felt more genuine, and Don pressed a little.

"Seriously, Dad. I'm just laying around here. I haven't seen Charlie since he left Friday, and I've only been able to catch him awake and talk to him on the phone twice. You come in here looking like that — what am I supposed to think?"

Alan sighed. "He's just not…Charlie. And I don't just mean physically. He's so quiet. So polite. Larry comes to see him, tries to get him interested in work, but Charlie never has anything to add to the discussion. He doesn't try to sneak out to the garage, he doesn't talk about going back to teaching. He doesn't talk at all…really communicate, I mean. He responds quickly and nicely to all questions, but he doesn't volunteer a damn thing. It's as if the light has gone out of him…some core part of him is still locked in that room."

"Does Megan still come to see him?"

"Every evening, since he's been home. Sometimes they go sit out by the koi pond. Maybe they talk out there. But sometimes, I know they don't talk. Last night, she came by and sat on the daybed with him for 45 minutes, and I swear, I didn't hear anything besides 'Hello' and 'Good-bye'."

"Daybed?"

Alan looked momentarily startled. "That's right. I forgot to tell you. Cecile came by before Charlie came home and helped me set up the living room. Colby and David stopped by that morning too, and moved some furniture. You won't recognize the place. The couch isn't really comfortable for Charlie right now, and last night was the first night he made it all the way up the stairs and slept in his own bed. He lives on the daybed when he's downstairs. By the time you come home, he'll be upstairs every night. We'll leave it set up for you, for a few weeks."

Don started to protest. "Dad, I can go home…I'll be in a cast, on crutches by then…"

Alan looked stern. "No. Your apartment is upstairs. Dr. Chamberlain said you should avoid the stairs until your therapy starts, and that's not for three weeks after you get the cast. I want you to come to the house. Besides," he added, grinning wickedly, "you'll hurt Cecile's feelings. She set all this up thinking you would be using it too. She even let me borrow her daybed from her guest room."

Don was furious when he felt himself redden. He waved a hand in a good-natured cease-fire. "Okay, okay. Just until doc says I can take the stairs again. Now get the checkers the hell over here."