It was warm. Whatever was in Don's hand was warm, and he rather liked it. Perhaps…Perhaps his father had made him another sandwich, and warmed this one a bit in the microwave, an oddity he knew Don liked. He squeezed it. It squeezed back, and he rather liked that, too. This was definitely not a sandwich. A cursory search discovered fingers. This was a hand, but it was too smooth and too small to be his father's. It was a nice hand, though, and the fact that he was holding it was interesting. Don figured maybe he should open his eyes. He did, and found himself horizontal, staring up at Katie.
"So," she said without intro, "I'm having lunch with Megan, and your dad calls her. She tells me what's going on and it occurs to me that's there is one thing I forgot to say over coffee the other day."
Don got the feeling he wasn't needed in this conversation yet, so he just tilted his head at her expectantly.
"I developed a policy," she continued, "after those first two guys left me. I insist on at least one date first, now. You can't leave me until after one date. I'd prefer a really good one, but that part's not set in stone."
Don tried to sit up, but she put out a hand. "Not yet, G-man. Still tied up."
He had been so busy watching Katie that he hadn't even noticed all the wires coming off him and leading to — what was that? A teletype? Did he ask that out loud? Where was his shirt?
"EKG," Katie was saying. "Doc should be back any…"
As if on cue, Dr. Stevens and a man he didn't know entered the room, bent their heads together over the read-out in the machine, then switched the machine off. "I'll leave this to you," said the stranger, hurrying out. "Got an MVA coming in."
Dr. Stevens looked at Don, shook his head. "Vasovagal," he said, turning to Katie. "You can unhook him. Keep him out of here until we get Charlie out of ICU." He checked his watch. "Surgery in an hour." He looked back at Don. "Take it easy. You'll be fine. Katie will fill you in on all the horrid details. I'll keep you posted on Charlie."
With that, he was gone. Katie was ripping things off his chest, seeming to enjoy it. Eventually she helped him sit up on the edge of the gurmey, handed him his shirt. "Vaso what?", he said, wondering how all the buttons got off, and where his t-shirt was.
"Sorry about that," she said, sitting down again. "They sort-of had to rip it off. Vasovagal syncope. That is the six-syllable term we created for men and other strong people who…faint."
"You've got to be kidding."
"Nope. They took the EKG to be sure, and it looks good. You could be an athlete, or something."
He slipped into the arms of the shirt — at least they were still there — and started dejectedly at the buttonholes. "I fainted?'
"I was just kidding. About the shirt." Katie handed him the spare FBI t-shirt that Megan had found in the bag he always kept in the SUV. "Put this on."
He accepted it gratefully and started over, handing the ripped shirt back to Katie, who unceremoniously tossed it in a waste container behind her. "We should talk," she said.
Something in her tone made him look at her again, while he pulled the shirt down over his torso. "You have to find a way to let go of this."
"But Charlie…"
"But Charlie is a grown man. I heard about that letter he wrote to your father last year, when he was in the hospital for chemo, in isolation. Even then, he knew you guys loved him"
The curtain drew back a little and Alan entered, reaching for his wallet. "Actually, I carry that letter with me all the time. I made copies, so I wouldn't ruin the original. Ah, here it is. This is the part…" he handed the paper to Katie, pointing.
" I feel you with me every moment, Dad," she began, " whether you are physically here or not. I know that you would give your last breath for me — I just don't want you to. Please take care of yourself, and Don, our rock — he's stronger than all of us, but he's not as strong as he wants to be."
The three were silent. "Some strength," Don finally muttered.
Katie stood again. "You've got a pretty stressful job, I would say, Special Agent Eppes. Charlie's health and…recent setbacks…, that's more stress. It's a great body, dude, but it's still human. It's only supposed to do so much."
Don knew he was probably past blushing. He was probably purple, But she either didn't notice, or thought that was a good color for him.
"You can't fix this for Charlie. In that way, I think the leukemia was probably easier for you. There were things you could go. Drive him to chemo, hold his head over the toilet, eventually, even give him bone marrow! But you can't take this on for Charlie." She directed a glance at Alan. "Either of you. It's all his."
Neither man answered, and after a moment she walked over to directly face Alan. "He's an Eppes," she said. "He's shown you what's in his core. He can do this again, especially if he thinks that the two of you" she tossed Don a glance, "believe that he can."
Alan rubbed his hand over his face and arched his eyebrows at Don. "She's right. She's smart, this one."
"Well, while I'm on a roll here, let me add that I have three more things on good authority." Katie's voice had that teasing edge again, and it caught both men's attention. "Number One. You guys can't see Charlie today, probably not tomorrow. But at least not today."
"That's all one thing?"
"I'm talking here," she protested, throwing a withering glance Don's way.
"Anyway, Number Two. I heard Megan tell your Dad that you're taking the rest of the day off, Don, whether you want to or not. She and the guys have it handled."
"Hey…" Don started to protest, but she gave him that look again, so he shut up.
"Number Three," she said looking at her watch. "It's only 1. I don't go to work until 6:30. I hear there are matinees at the Cineplex." The two men assumed identical looks of worry, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on. You've both got cells. I've got a cell. A true emergency will find one of us."
Suddenly Alan's eyes crinkled. "Hop off that table, son," he said, turning to leave the ER exam room. "Neither one of us is getting a better offer anytime soon!"
Don did as he was told, lightly touched Katie's arm. "So does this count as our first date?" he whispered.
She smiled up at him. "I will not be telling our children that their grandfather chapereoned our first date," she answered, stunning him into silence yet once again. "We'll compare calendars later. Think of something out of the box. I prefer a really good first date."
