Chapter 13

Don called the hospital in the morning, and learned that Charlie's night hadn't gotten any easier. He quickly decided to take the morning off, and spend it with Charlie. A small twinge of guilt pricked at him as he left voice mails for his team members at work, but the need to see Charlie was stronger — as was the voice of experience. He had never regretted any time he had taken away from his own life to spend with his mother when she was sick. If anything, he was sorry he hadn't given her more.

Hospital staff was still collecting breakfast trays when Don approached Charlie's room, but he doubted he'd see one in there. Quickly prepping himself with the isolation techniques, he entered the room just as a nurse was helping Charlie into the large chair near the window. She saw Don, and smiled.

"I don't know how long he'll be able to sit here," she said, tucking a blanket securely around his brother. She checked the bags on the IV pole and patted him on the shoulder. "But he wants to try, right Charlie?"

He didn't answer and the nurse looked at Don. "Just have your brother come and get one of us when you're ready to go back to bed," she finally said, and quietly left the room.

Don dragged a smaller chair over near Charlie and sat to face him. Don had seen him look sick before, but this was different. He was beyond pale, and misery was etched into his features. His eyes were closed and his breathing sounded labored.

"Charlie?" Don asked, gently touching his brother's arm. Charlie opened his eyes, and the desolation in them nearly stopped Don's heart. He almost whispered this time. "Charlie?"

Slowly Charlie lifted one hand, and placed it on his head. Don was surprised practically beyond comprehension when his brother lowered his hand, and it contained a huge clump of curly black hair. "Here," he said bitterly, grabbing Don's hand and dropping the hair into it. "Consider this a souvenir."

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Megan, Colby and David had gone to the deli on the first floor of the FBI building for a quick lunch. They were able to keep up easily with the work load in Don's absences, and Megan, for one, suspected Director Merrick was cutting the whole team some slack. When the elevator door opened and they stepped out, they saw Don sitting at his desk, elbows on the table, head in his hands. They exchanged glances, and then David lead the way.

"Hey, Don," he greeted, approaching his team leader. "We just got back from lunch, but I'll be glad to send Colby back down to get you something…"

Megan snickered, and Colby sputtered out a startled "Hey!", but Don did not react. Megan reached out to touch his arm lightly. "Don?" she asked quietly, "how's Charlie?"

Head still buried in his hands, it was hard to understand what he was saying.

"It's not like this was unexpected," Megan thought she heard. "It's just that when he got through the initial chemotheraphy, we stopped thinking about it."

David spoke again. "Don, I'm having trouble hearing you," he said.

Don sighed, and lifted up his head. Then he slumped back into his chair, and looked up at them. He sighed again.

"I shaved Charlie's head this morning."