Chapter 10

"Come on...come on, buddy." Chuck impatiently waved down a cab in front of the United Airlines terminal at O'Hare. His day had not started out at all well. He'd had to fly stand-by, so that had meant waiting around for several hours at LAX. Then, when he had arrived in Chicago, there was a mix-up in the luggage area, and it took another thirty minutes to straighten that mess out. It was now three P.M. Chicago time, and Chuck hadn't had a chance to check in with Crumb concerning Gary's condition.

The cab swerved over to the curb, and Chuck quickly opened the back door, tossing his luggage in ahead of him. "I'm going to..." Chuck dug around in his pocket until he came up with the name and address of the hospital, giving them to the cabby. "And I'm in a hurry, buddy, so step on it."

Chuck sat back calculating that at this time of day, with this traffic, it would take at least forty minutes to get to the hospital. He sighed in frustration.

Life used to be so simple, he mused. Go to work, make a few well-placed buys on the stock market. Go out for a beer afterwards with Gary and maybe a few of the other traders. Simple. Uncomplicated. Predictable.

Boring. Chuck started when that thought jumped into his head. Boring can be good, he argued with himself. Boring doesn't get you knocked on the head by ex-cons. Boring doesn't have you traipsing around Chicago in the wee hours of the morning in sub-zero temperatures. Boring means not having to wonder if the next day's paper was going to be carrying your obituary...or your best friend's.

Chuck took a deep breath, his foot tapping restlessly on the floor, willing the cab to go faster; a sense of urgency permeating his being. He had to be there for Gary. Be there to...to...what? Chuck didn't know.

Could Crumb really be right? Chuck stared glumly out the window, his head resting in his hand. Had Gary literally run himself into the ground? Chuck wondered if it would have made any difference if he had been there to take on some of the load. Chuck stared out the window at the approaching Chicago skyline. He didn't know the answers to the questions, but it really didn't matter. Deep down, he knew he should have been there.

Chuck hurried down the hospital corridor, spotting the sign pointing to the ICU waiting area. He turned into the room, almost running into a familiar figure.

"Crumb!"

"Hey, Fishman. Nice to see you could take time out of your busy schedule."

Chuck swallowed back a retort. There were more important matters to discuss. "How is he?"

Crumb glanced towards a door marked "ICU", and shook his head. "Not so good. They can't get his fever down, and he's been pretty out of it all day."

Chuck's stomach did a sickening flip. He had been hoping that the news would be good. "I need to see him. How do I get in there?"

Before Crumb could answer, a nurse approached them, "Mr. Hobson? You can go in now." She nodded, and smiled. "Keep your visit brief, though, okay?"

Chuck looked at Crumb, eyebrows raised in puzzlement. He mouthed, "Mr. Hobson?"

Crumb cleared his throat, attempting to ignore Chuck's look, "Uh, thank you. Can Gary's...uh...brother...go in too?"

The nurse looked from Crumb to Chuck, eyeing them up and down dubiously, "His brother?"

Chuck gave her what he felt was his most charming smile while throwing an arm around Crumb's shoulders. "Yes, and I must say that Dad has told me what marvelous care you have given my brother. Thank you so much."

The nurse smiled, tongue in cheek, "You're welcome." She nodded towards the ICU entrance, "Go on in."

Chuck grinned, and followed Crumb through the door. The old Fishman charm, he thought, it works every time.

His grin died as they entered Gary's room. Gary looked terrible. His face was gaunt, as though he had lost considerable weight, and what Chuck could see of it around the mask was stark white except for twin spots of color high on his cheekbones. Gary's eyes were closed and heavy dark smudges decorated the skin beneath them. The rasping sound of his struggle to breathe filled the room. The only other sound came from a monitor on a table near the head of the bed. It made a rapid beeping noise and the number eighty-eight flashed on and off.

Chuck slowly approached the bed, sidestepping IV poles and shooting a scared look towards Crumb. "Is he awake?"

Crumb shrugged, "Hobson?"

Gary's eyelids flickered slightly.

"Gar? It's me, Chuck."

Gary's head turned slightly and Chuck could see Gary fight to open his eyes, "Hey, Chuck."

Chuck smiled, lifting his gaze to Crumb's. "He's awake!" He looked back to Gary. "How're ya feeling, buddy?"

Gary coughed, scrunching up his face in pain, "I don't feel too good, Chuck."

Chuck eyes opened wide in alarm. It must be pretty bad if Gary admitted to feeling sick.

Gary lost the battle to keep his eyes open, apologizing, "Sorry, Chuck. So tired."

Chuck clapped him gently on the shoulder. "You just rest, Gar, okay? I'll take care of everything."

Gary nodded slightly, then fought to open his eyes again, reaching up and pulling the oxygen mask away from his face. "Chuck, I haven't seen the pa-"

Chuck quickly pulled the mask back down. "Gotta leave that in place, okay, Gar?" He leaned down in a pretense of trying to adjust the tightness of the mask and whispered, "Leave everything to me, buddy. Don't worry about it."

Gary sighed, falling instantly asleep.

Chuck remained standing by the bed for several minutes while Crumb stood in a corner, arms crossed, staring up at the heart monitor that was suspended from the ceiling. Chuck felt somehow comforted by Crumb's vigilance; as though the sheer force of Crumb's will and determination was responsible for keeping the peaks and valleys marching across the screen. As long as Crumb was there, Gary would be okay.

Chuck pulled a chair next to the bed, and sank onto it, wondering what had become of the paper. Pretending to tie his shoe, he leaned down and glanced under the bed. No cat. No paper. He sat up, mouth pursed to one side as he thought about where the paper would be. Probably back at Gary's apartment.

Truthfully, Chuck admitted that he wasn't all that disappointed that the paper was nowhere to be seen. If the paper did return, Chuck knew that Gary would expect Chuck to fill-in for him. Not a job Chuck relished. Of course, right now, Gary would likely never know the difference, but Chuck wasn't sure that he could handle the guilt he would feel if, when Gary was better, he asked Chuck details about the rescues and Chuck was forced to lie.

Chuck knew he just wasn't cut out to be a hero. Sure, he'd tag along when Gary did his good deeds, and had even saved the day a few times, he remembered, his chest puffing out slightly. But he knew the only reason he did it was for Gary--not for the unfortunate souls who needed the rescuing. Not that he ever wanted anyone to get hurt, he thought defensively, but some things are just meant to be. That's life. Karma. Shit happens.

Chuck stretched, his gaze dropping to Gary's hand lying on top of the sheet. An IV was protruding from the back of it, dried blood crusting around the puncture site just visible beneath the clear bandage holding everything in place. He shuddered as the impact of Gary's illness slammed home. Shit happens, all right, he thought, sinking slowly against the back of the chair. And now it had happened to Gary.