A/N: Go back and re-read Ch. 22, it has been re-submitted. I made a horrible mistake and forgot all about Andrew, Cecile's brother from Part I. Sorry...

Chapter 23

Don was finished with the Grisham novel, already. He'd never read a book in one day before in his life. At least everybody was right — he had enjoyed it. He would probably re-read the good parts.

When he reached to take it off the rolling table, his hand brushed Charlie's laptop. He had almost forgotten it was there. Don's bed was raised enough so that he could see Charlie in the other bed when he turned his head, and he could see that his brother was awake. "Hey, Charlie."

Charlie turned his head a little. "Yeah."

"Listen, I've got this book, now. Do you want your laptop back?"

"No," said Charlie, quickly. "No. You keep it."

Don looked from his brother to the computer and back again. "You know, Charlie…a gun in the wrong hands can do terrible damage. But it's really a beautiful thing, a wondrous working of metal parts — that in the right hands, is powerful but safe. I enjoy a good Saturday morning on the range, now and then."

Charlie looked a little confused. "What does that have to do with anything? You want to shoot my computer?"

Don smiled a little. Perhaps he was being too obtuse. "I'm just saying. The computer didn't jump up and attack you."

Charlie blinked at him. "Oh." His eyes strayed to the laptop. "I know that. That's not…entirely…the problem."

It wasn't? Maybe Don had assumed too much. "So?"

Charlie turned his head again, so he could look at the ceiling. "It's my e-mail. I'm afraid of my e-mail."

Don started to laugh. "Well, it has been a while since you've checked it. There could be hundreds of advertisements for Viagra alone."

Charlie actually turned away from Don, toward the wall, dragging his braced leg unceremoniously off its pillows. Don stopped laughing. "Hey, hey, don't hurt yourself. I'm sorry. What did I do?"

Charlie didn't answer, and Don could see the tension in his back. If his leg hadn't been in a brace, Charlie would probably be in a fetal position by now. Don's voice was apprehensive, unsure. "Is there something I can do? Check your e-mail for you, maybe?"

Charlie's voice, aimed at the wall, was a mumble. "You would do that?"

Relieved, Don reached to open the laptop. "Of course. You use Safari, right? I can navigate that well enough to create some folders and save the stuff I think looks important, and I'll throw away the Viagra ads…" He watched the computer boot up. "You can help me."

Charlie was still aimed at the wall, and sounded reluctant. "I'm not sure we can do that, here."

Don encouraged him. "Sure we can. We're state-of-the-art, Bro. Larry hooked me up with this wireless modem thing."

Charlie rolled back onto his back, raised his own bed and leaned over to reposition his leg. Finally he looked at Don. "All right. Just…Just…Please be careful."

Be careful? It was e-mail, not an armed felon. Don just nodded and started negotiating his way to Safari.

It had been a while since Charlie had checked this. Unbelieveable. Don was momentarily overwhelmed, and sat for a minute. "Well," he said, more to himself than to Charlie. "Start with the obvious."

There really were a dozen advertisements for Viagra. He trashed those, and a few for FREE! plasma TVs and golf bags. He noted several with Cal Sci suffixes, and he created a folder for them. "About 15 here from people at Cal Sci," he said. "I'll move those into a holding cell." Charlie snickered and Don looked at him. "Sorry. A file, then." He looked back at the computer. Once he had moved all of those, things were starting to look more reasonable. He shifted a little in the bed. "That's all I can figure out without opening them," he finally said. "Still 43 left."

Charlie considered. "Any from you?"

Don felt like an idiot when he found two. "Oh. Yeah. Never mind those, now. I'll trash 'em." He looked more carefully at the suffixes then, and his eyes lit on one from Dad — and two from Harvard. Crap. Two from Amita. That's what Charlie was afraid of.

Don had been lying in this bed for way too long. That light should have gone on a long time ago.

"Um…there's one from Dad, here."

"You can read that."

Don did, and chuckled a little. "Can you stop at the store for bread on the way home? Three weeks ago?"

While he had Charlie laughing, Don created a folder for the two Harvard e-mails and moved them. "I moved…some others. You'll be able to find them, later. I was careful." He repeated Charlie's word, hoping his brother would catch his meaning. "We're down to 38."

He heard Charlie sigh. "I'll be able to find them."

"Yes," Don confirmed.

"Okay." Charlie sounded relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Okay," he repeated. "Just start at the top, and read them to me."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alan had spent the morning readying the house for two invalids. On crutches. He knew Don wasn't really sick, he was actually porking up a bit, lying around all day and eating whatever he wanted. Still, there was Charlie's ulcer to consider, and one could never have too much gelatin or soup prepared in a situation like this.

He spent the afternoon doing some errands for Don. He took himself to an early, congratulatory dinner, savoring the last peaceful, private moment he would have for a few days. He finally arrived at the hospital around 6:30, as if he were any other visitor. When he rounded the corner to access the boys' room, he saw Charlie crutching toward the room from the other direction — probably in the sun room, again — and Larry was pushing an IV pole behind him.

Alan was glad he had stopped for a little fortification. If Charlie's doctor still hadn't discontinued the IV, he doubted that his son would be in a good mood.

He waited for them at the door, smiling and holding it open for them. "Gentlemen."

Charlie started through the door, head down, concentrating on where he planted his crutches. "Dad. Where ya been all day? Don's been driving me crazy."

"I have not!" Alan heard a protest from the bed. "He left me here alone all afternoon! I might as well not even have a roomie."

Charlie stopped for a moment and considered a chair, then started up again and headed for his bed. Larry continued to follow, a silent sentinel. "Two hours. I was gone for two hours, and I only left because you were snoring."

Alan followed the parade into the room just in time to see a pillow land dangerously close to Charlie, causing his son to wobble a bit.

"I do not snore. I may occasionally snort, but that's an entirely different matter."

Charlie started to detour around the road block.

"And give me back my pillow."

Alan picked the pillow up off the floor and walked to Don's bed, watching Larry help Charlie settle on his own out of the corner of his eye, ready to lend a hand if needed. He winked quickly at Don, who beamed happily back. "Don't throw things at your brother while he's on crutches. I know you have the fine arm of a former ball player, but Charlie's reaction time is off." He tossed the pillow back at Don.

Don caught it and looked over at Charlie, grinned broadly. "I hope you heard that. Dad said I can throw things at you — just not while you're on crutches."

Alan rolled his eyes and looked to Larry for help.

Larry held up his hands in surrender and backed subtly toward the door. "I'm afraid this is your battlefield now, Alan. They've been like this since I arrived. I thank the cosmos that I have a seminar to teach this evening." Still, he flashed Alan a relieved grin before he left.

Alan took his appointed chair between the beds. Don was channel surfing, so he looked at Charlie, who had his eyes closed. Still pale. Alan was glad he had made that extra pot of chicken soup. "Will the doctor still let you leave in the morning? I see the IV is still in."

Charlie didn't open his eyes, and his voice slurred a little as he let fatigue overtake him. "I toll im…he takes this out before 10 tommmorroww…" He was interrupted by a yawn. "Er I rip it out myself."

Alan turned his attention back to Don. "Did he eat dinner?"

Don couldn't find anything on the television and started around again. "Huh?", he said, distracted. At Alan's sigh he stopped and focused his attention for a second. He looked at Charlie, asleep, and a soft smile played across his mouth. "Oh. Yeah. Larry brought him something and they ate in the sun room. He really hates the soup and gelatin they try to talk him into here." He looked at his Dad. "He's okay."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here today. I worry…"

Don laughed softly and ruffled his father's hair. "I know Dad. We all know. You carry the patent, don't you?" Alan tried to look affronted and smoothed his hair down. Don started surfing, again. "Don't worry so much," he said. "When you're not here, Dad, Charlie and I— we can take care of each other."

Alan smiled.

That was all he had ever wanted.