A/N: Just a tiny offering to keep your interest going.

Chapter 10

This was not happening.

He was not standing in a hospital again, feet rooted to the floor.

Green-scrubbed people did not just push him out of the way. They did not really separate him from Charlie. They could not have, because he still felt the pressure of his brother's hand in his. He still saw his eyes, glassy from fever, and alcohol, staring up at him from a gurney. They were not empty. They were not. His brother was still in there somewhere; hurt, both physically and emotionally. He just had to find him.

He was not watching his father age 10 years every hour. He did not see Katie sitting next to Alan, holding his hand, sneaking glances at her watch because what she was really doing was checking his respirations and taking his pulse. He was glad he did not know that.

He had not seen Dr. Richard Stevens enter, did not hear him offer to consult with Huntington Memorial's team. Consult. Charlie consulted.

He did not see Megan hurrying down the hall, he did not accept her brief hug. He did not let her lead him to a chair near his father, because he had not been standing in the middle of the hallway, feet rooted to the floor, in the first place.

This was worse than the gelatin dream. He would apologize to the spoon, next time he saw him. This dream was worse. This was the worst dream he had ever had, and he needed it to be over. It had to be a dream. He knew that it was a dream.

Because after all, this was not happening.