Chapter 12

Charlie was only in the hospital one day before they moved him to isolation. The high dose chemo elevated his temperature, and he began to cough. It had been a long day: First the central line was put in, then the treatments started. Charlie was ashamed of himself for ever before saying that he was tired.

While Charlie was being transferred, Don took Alan to the hospital cafeteria. Megan found them there, silent, strained, ignoring the plates before them.

"Hey, guys," she said softly, taking a seat at the table.

"Megan!" exclaimed Alan, while at the same time Don offered her a tight smile.

"Hey, Megan," he answered. "What are you doing here? Problems on a case?"

"No, Don," she patted his hand reassuringly. "Things are under control. Well, under control if Colby on steroids is under control. I think he's really trying to make his mark, here, Don."

The two men laughed quietly as Megan continued. "Anyway, it's almost 7. I came by to visit Charlie."

"Oh, right, of course," Don said. "He's had kind-of a hard day…they're moving him to isolation."

Megan smiled, touching Don's hand again. "I know," she said. "The nurse told me, and said I might find you here." She looked at the plates of food in front of them. "That doesn't look good," she finally said.

Alan found his voice, but just barely. "It wasn't," he said simply.

Megan stood. "Then let's go," she said. "Let's go see Charlie."

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In the entryway to Charlie's new room, Alan, Don and Megan took turns washing their hands, and then took rubber gloves from the receptacle and put them on. While they were "gowning up", as the nurse had instructed them, another nurse brushed past them and opened the door to the room.

"I've got more Compazine," she called, and through the open door they could see yet another nurse holding an emesis basin for Charlie. Amita was helping him lean toward the edge of the bed to vomit. It must have been going on for some time, because Charlie didn't appear to have anything in him to bring up anymore. As the door swung shut, Don looked over to his father, who stood holding the gown he had been about to put on. Alan quietly tossed the unused gown into the laundry bin, then removed his rubber gloves.

"Dad?" Don asked.

Alan looked at him, and Don found the look frightening. His father seemed to have aged 20 years since that morning, and tears were running down his cheeks.

"I can't do this," he said, turning away from both his sons."I can't do this again." He rushed past Don into the open hallway. Don started to follow when he felt a hand on his arm.

"I'll go," Megan said. "I'll take care of him. Take him home. Charlie needs you."

Don felt torn in two. He wanted to be with them both. He needed to be with them both. He remembered this feeling. When his mother was sick, and Charlie wouldn't come to be with her, it had felt like this…he had to choose someone, didn't he? Finally, he nodded at Megan and she quickly disposed of her gloves and gown, and chased his father down the hall. Don watched until she caught up to him, began walking silently next to him, and then he reached for the paper mask. Don snapped it over his nose and mouth, and pushed open the door to his brother's room.

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"Don."

He turned from the window to see Charlie looking at him. He had been sleeping by the time Don got into the room, and he and Amita had talked for a while before she left, promising to be back the next day. He smiled behind the mask, even though he knew Charlie couldn't see it. "Maybe he can hear it", he thought, as he walked toward his brother.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he teased lightly.

"Where's Dad?" Charlie asked.

"Damn," thought Don. "I should have been ready for this." Aloud, he only said "He… um, he…" before Charlie spoke again.

"S'kay," he said tiredly, closing his eyes again. "He doesn't have to watch this. Is someone with him?"

"Megan," Don answered.

Charlie smiled, and opened his eyes again. "That's good," he said. "She's been a real friend through all this."

"I know," Don began, but then he saw Charlie's hand reaching out to him and he grabbed it.

"Don," Charlie said, looking directly at him, "you don't have to watch this either. It's all right. I understand."

Don felt tears threaten, and he grasped his brother's hand more tightly. "No, you don't," he said quietly, drawing strength from his own words. "This is where I want to be."