Chapter 9

"Great job today Megan, David," said Don as they headed toward the elevator. "Have a great night."

"What about you?" Megan asked, turning around and walking backwards. "Aren't you guys coming?"

Don glanced at Colby, who was still typing frantically. He looked back at Megan. "Nah, I want to wait for Granger to finish this 3120, and sign off on it tonight."

"I'm almost done!" Colby cried.

Megan grinned at Don and waved as she turned back around. "Good luck!" she called. "Give our best to Charlie when you see him tonight, and tell him I'll be on time tomorrow!"

"Thanks, Megan. Good night!" he called after them as the elevator door closed at the same time that Colby finally hit "Print" and rushed toward the print center to retrieve his document. Don shook his head and started to put on his jacket. As he picked it up, his cell phone began to ring in one of the pockets, momentarily startling him. "I thought this thing was gonna blow up on me," he muttered to himself as he finally found the right pocket. Looking at the caller display, he saw that the call was from Amita, and his heart jumped into his throat. This was Thursday, Amita's day with Charlie. Charlie.

"Eppes!" he yelled into the phone, louder than he intended. He tried to calm himself down, which was almost impossible because he could hear Amita gasping and choking as if she were crying.

"Don?" she said frantically. "Don, I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call…"

"What's wrong, Amita?" Don interrupted impatiently.

"It's Ch Ch Ch Charlie." She gasped again, apparently trying to take a deep breath. "I don't think I can get him into the house by myself, and your father's not here."

"What happened?" Don tried to control his voice, to calm her with his own steadiness.

"I took him to therapy," she said, more quietly, "and he was sick during most of it. You know, vomiting. And he developed a fever. But they kept on giving it to him, and at the end just gave him a bigger dose of anti-nausea medication. We got to the car all right, but he's been sick a few more times on the way home, and he's so weak…Oh, G-d, he's shivering, now," she finished, her tone escalating.

Don was at the elevator, slamming his hand on the button. "Don't worry, Amita, I'll be right there," he said. "You just stay in the car with him, and try to keep him warm. You're doing great, honey. I'll be right there."

Don had jumped into the elevator and began pacing, impatient for it to reach the parking garage. Suddenly, he bumped into Colby. He hadn't even known the other agent was with him. "Colby?" he said, backing off a step. "What?…"

Colby grabbed Don's arm and pulled him out of the elevator, which had finally reached its stop. "Give me your keys," he said, breaking into a jog at the sight of Don's SUV. "I'm driving."

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Don was right. Charlie's schedule was about to change.

When Don and Colby reached the house, Don jumped out of the passenger side of the SUV and approached Amita's car. He opened the door, and the sight of her sitting there, cradling his brother against her in an effort to warm him up, tore at his already aching heart. He and Colby managed to get Charlie out of the car and carry him up to his room. By now, his father was home, and he was on the phone with Dr. Stevens. Amita waited just outside the room while Don and Colby got Charlie settled in bed, then all but pushed them aside in her haste to get back to Charlie.

"I talked to the doctor," said Alan quietly, joining Don and Colby at the room's doorway. No one could take their eyes off Charlie. "He said," Alan's voice faltered, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "He said that if the fever goes over 102, to take him to the ER tonight. Otherwise he'll see him tomorrow, and think about admitting him."

He suddenly seemed to see the bottle of water in his hand for the first time. "Oh!" He walked toward Charlie, and placed the bottle on the stand near the bed, "We're to try and keep him hydrated," he whispered quietly to Amita.

The two FBI agents stepped into the hall. Don ran his hand through his hair in the gesture he always reverted to in frustration, and sighed. "I'll give you a ride home," he said to Colby. "Thanks for your help." He turned toward the stairs but stopped when he heard Colby say, "If you don't mind, Don, I'd like to stay. In case you need me…" he glanced toward Charlie's bedroom "…you know, later…"

Don stood at the top of the top of the stairs and turned back to face Colby. "Colby Granger," he thought, "Afghanistan's terror." He smiled, and aloud he said, "Sure, Colby, I'd appreciate that. Come on. Let's see what we can find in the kitchen."

Halfway down the stairs, Colby spoke again. "Um, Don?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"Yeah, Colby?"

"When we first got here, and we were all out at Amita's car…"

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Don looked at Colby. "What?"

"Well, it's just, I could have sworn…"

"What, Colby?" asked Don, what patience he had growing thinner by the moment.

Colby sighed. "It's just that it sounded like she was singing him a lullaby."