Chapter 11

Dr. Stevens stood over them. Don wasn't sure how long he had been there. Before he could ask, the doctor spoke. "Both of you. Come with me." His tone brooked no argument. Don and Alan did as they were told.

When they walked out the ambulance bay door, into the sunshine, Don stopped. "What are we doing?"

"Charlie's being admitted. You can't see him yet, so I thought we'd talk out here." The doctor had led them around a series of corners, and suddenly they were in a courtyard. Several benches surrounded a fountain. For a hospital, it was a pretty peaceful setting. "You both looked like you could use some air," he added, indicating that they should sit.

Alan did, but the air had snapped some sense back into Don's synapses. "How bad is it?"

"They're going to keep him a few days to run intravenous antibiotics; make sure that infected leg doesn't get any worse." Dr. Stevens looked directly at Don. "The alcohol is a complication. He's still on immunosuppressive agents, to prevent opportunistic post-transplant infections, and alcohol becomes more toxic in that situation."

Don blanched. "I knew that. I mean, I knew he was still on medication…I should have made the connection…"

The doctor interrupted. "Were you with him when he started drinking?"

"No. He came to my apartment this morning, drunk."

"Then I'm sure you didn't know how much he had to drink. You probably still don't know…and I doubt if he'll ever be able to tell you. This isn't your responsibility, Don, you didn't do anything wrong."

When Don shook his head to protest, Alan spoke for the first time. "You didn't, Donnie. Charlie is an educated man, a grown man. He makes his own decisions."

"Your father's right. I just can't believe this was one of them. He told me he didn't drink. At all."

"He doesn't," Don answered.

"Katie told me he and his fiancé cancelled their wedding last night?"

"I'm not sure what happened last night. I'm working on it. But that part I've verified."

The doctor began to circle the fountain, thinking. "Okay, then. Given the stress, his size, his unfamiliarity with alcohol…maybe it didn't take all that much to get him drunk." He completed the circle and stood next to Don again. "At any rate, we'll stop the immunosuppressive drugs until the infection clears up."

"Has he been awake?" It was Alan's voice. "You couldn't get any details from him?"

Hands on hips, Dr. Stevens shook his head. "He's been conscious, but almost non-responsive. He doesn't have a great memory of last night, for one thing, but it's more than that. It's almost like he doesn't even care."

Don shivered, even though it was quite warm. "That can't be good."

"No," answered the doctor seriously. "It won't be. So much of how we respond to medical treatment is dependent upon…well, dependent upon that which cannot be treated. He's very withdrawn. When you see him, remind him of what he hasn't lost. But don't minimize what he has — Charlie has to face his loss, and find a way to deal with it." He turned to lead the way back inside. "First, though, first — we have to give him a reason."

When they got back inside, Dr. Stevens continued on to check on Charlie's admission, and Don and Alan found Colby sitting with Megan and Katie. The walk had grounded Don, brought him back to himself. "What've you got?" he barked, and Colby responded to that tone as if it were just another case.

"Checked all the bars between Amita's and the liquor store. Found a bartender at Slinky's that recognized his photo."

"Slinky's?" Don was shocked again. "Isn't that a gay bar?"

"Well I don't think Charlie knew that," Colby answered. "Bartender said he just sat at the bar. Threw two back as soon as he got there, took his time with a third, was really nursing a fourth when some guy hit on him…that's when he cut his leg."

Katie's eyebrows shot up. "This is getting good."

Don shot her a withering glance, and Colby continued. "Slinky's is a basement bar — there's a stairway leading down to it. I guess after the guy hit on Charlie, he lit out of there so fast, he took the stairs three at a time; slammed his shin on the way up. Two guys going down tried to help him, but he wasn't too cooperative."

"Did he go somewhere else?" Megan asked. "I thought the liquor store owner said he was drunk when he showed up there."

Colby checked his notes. "Got to Slinky's around 2, left around an hour later. The clerk at the liquor store thinks he got there around 3:30. Bought two bottles and asked the guy to call him a cab. Cab takes him back to Amita's." He looked at Don. "An hour later, he's at your place."

"Can't hold his liquor," Alan interjected. "What?" he protested when everyone turned to him in various stages of surprise. "I'm just saying, I can believe he was drunk off three drinks."

"Dad's right. I've only seem him try to drink once, years ago, and if I remember correctly he didn't have much of a talent for it." Don thought for a moment. "Well, now we know where he was all night. We just don't know what happened with Amita." He put his arm protectively around his father's back."Let's find out if we can see Charlie yet." Turning back to his three friends, he shrugged. "You guys should see if you can salvage some Saturday for yourselves. Thanks for everything you've all done."

Alan stepped up to shake Colby's hand and give Megan and Katie quick hugs. "Really, we appreciate your help."

Katie turned her hug into a peck on the cheek. "I'm off today," she said quietly. "I'll stay awhile, if you don't mind."

Dr. Stevens returned at that moment, checking a pager in his hand. "Don, Alan. I've got to take another emergency, but I wanted to tell you that Charlie's up in his room. I'm sure Katie can figure out how to get you there. I'll be coming by periodically to check on him, so call me if you have questions."

After Megan, Colby and Dr. Stevens left, Don and Alan followed Katie, who seemed to know what she was doing. Sooner than he was prepared for, Don found himself looking at Charlie again, who was staring up at an IV pole sporting a saline unit piggybacked with antibiotics. He turned toward the door when he heard them enter.

"Charlie," Alan was across the floor in an instant. "Son. You're all right?"

"Sure," said Charlie, in a voice that was anything but all right. His father leaned in give him the hug he had been saving for him all day, and Charlie looked at Don over his father's shoulder.

Don felt his blood run cold. He hadn't seen that look since…since their mother's funeral. Not even during the darkest moments of Charlie's own illness had he allowed such despair. Dr. Stevens was right. It wasn't the physical they had to worry about.

Eyes locked with his brother's, Don felt a rage rising within him. Charlie had fought back, against nearly losing himself when they'd lost Mom, against nearly losing himself to leukemia…he had fought back, and he had created for himself the life he really wanted. He had dared to love. She had done this. For whatever reason, she had done this. He wanted to storm out of the room, drive straight to the airport, and go to India himself. He wanted to find Amita…not to bring her back for Charlie. No. No, he wanted to find Amita so that he could kill her.