The forced separation from Charlie leant Don some perspective. He knew that Katie was right. He couldn't change what had happened to his brother. He did wonder why Amita had called him — apparently his vasovagal episode in the hospital cafeteria was harder on the cell than it was on him. He had to get a new one, and there was no way to get her caller ID off the old one. He couldn't call her back. He wasn't sure he would, anyway.
The Monday afternoon matinee — a comedy— had been relaxing, and fun. Once, he had to break up a popcorn fight between his father and Katie. After an early dinner, they got her to work just in time to grab her extra uniform out of the nurse's locker room. Don dropped off his dad, returned to his own apartment and fell asleep before 8 p.m. When he awoke at 5, he was terrified that he had missed something important — but there were no messages blinking on the machine, no-one was pounding on the door. Charlie must be holding his own.
His team caught a case that day, and the hours flew by. He did manage to call his father in the late afternoon.
"Charlie's doing well, Don," his father said as soon as he answered. "He's responding to all the treatments as well as they hoped. They may be able to extubate him tomorrow and move him out of ICU."
Don smiled in relief. "That's great, Dad! You're taking care of yourself, right, you're not…"
"Actually…" a distinctly feminine voice answered, "he's teaching me how to properly roast a beef."
Don's smiled widened. "Katie! What are you doing there?"
"I ran into your Dad in the hospital this afternoon when I went to check on Charlie," she answered. "I'm off tonight, so I asked him to dinner. He thought I should learn to cook instead."
His dad was teaching Katie to cook Don's favorite food. Not too difficult to read the message there. Don saw Megan motion to him from across the bullpen. "Great news, all the way around," he said. "Don't believe everything he tells you. Demand evidence. I've gotta get back to work, now."
"Okay, Don, take it easy. Your Dad's waving good-bye. Oh, and Don?"
"Yeah?"
"I've already seen all the evidence I need," she said, disconnecting.
He looked at the phone in wonder and confusion, then crossed the bullpen to meet with his team.
Don hoped to go to the hospital for the extubation, which was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon, but the case kept him in the field. He kept his cell on, but no calls came to distract him. Finally, around 4, he caught a moment and called his father again,
"Where are you?" whispered Alan. "I can hardly hear you, and I don't want to shout. I could wake Charlie."
Don walked up a small knoll. "This better? I'm about an hour out of L.A., searching a crime scene."
"Yes, that's good. Are you safe?"
Don smiled. "Yeah, Dad, we're good. Perp's already in custody. This is where he told us to search for…well, hey, I called about Charlie."
Alan cleared his throat, thinking about where his eldest was, and what he was doing. "Right. The extubation went well. Breathing treatments can be done without the tube, now. It's such a relief to be in the same room with him again."
"Yeah. I was hoping to get by tonight…"
"Don't worry, Donnie. He's still sleeping off the sedation, and when he does wake up, he can't say much. Sore throat."
"Oh, right. But still, I'd like to see him."
"He has managed to say two things," Alan offered.
"What?"
"When he woke up the first time, it was very hard to understand him. But I finally got it: 'Tell Donnie I'm ok'."
Don felt his own throat threaten to close while his father kept talking. "The last time? The last time he asked me to have Larry go by the house and pick up his laptop for him."
It was Thursday evening before Don could get back to the hospital, although he phoned frequently for updates. Finally, he signed his last report, ran to the SUV and drove as quickly as he could for Huntington Memorial. When he reached Charlie's new room, his father and Larry were just leaving. "Only 14 minutes left," his father gave him a quick hug. "You'd better hurry. I know he'd like to see you."
Brushing past them into the room, Don saw Charlie sitting up in bed, just about to open the laptop in front of him. His brother looked up at him and smiled. His face was still slightly flush, but his temperature must be greatly reduced. His eyes were bright, and he looked happy to see Don. He wasn't quite sure what made him do it, but he crossed quickly to the bed, leaned over and took his brother in his arms. After a moment, he felt the pressure of Charlie hugging him back. They disconnected, then, and Don sat on the edge of the bed.
"You look good," he said, meaning it. He added, "I've missed you," and meant that, too.
Charlie grinned. "Yeah, I feel a lot better. Dad's been telling me you've been busy with a case, but doesn't give any details. He doesn't want me to worry. I guess he thinks this television hanging over the bed doesn't get any news stations." His grin disappeared. "You're all right? Sounded like a pretty bad crime scene."
Don smiled tightly. "It was. But yeah, I'm good. How are you feeling? I mean, physically…and…and about everything."
Charlie's eyes wandered away from Don, toward the window. "I'm better," he finally said. There was a beep, and their eyes were drawn toward the laptop. "I'd better check my e-mail, battery's getting low."
"E-mail?"
"Hey, haven't you ever heard of wireless technology?" Charlie teased, fingers rapidly moving on the keyboard. "I was so happy when I found out that the hospital has Bluetooth capabilities…" his voice faded. His fingers stopped moving. The slightly flushed face became white. He looked back up at Don.
"You hung up on Amita?"
Don felt his own heart drop. "Do you have e-mail from her?"
"Why did you hang up? Charlie asked again.
Don ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't, not on purpose. The phone…"
He grabbed the one he was carrying from his pocket. "See? I had to get a new one."
Charlie looked at the phone, then back to the lap top. His color began to even out, but his breathing was too rapid for someone who was still being treated for pneumonia. "Charlie," said Don, reaching for his brother's arm, "how many times has she e-mailed you?"
Charlie slowly closed the lap top, pushed it to one side, and lay back on the pillows. He raised one arm to cover his eyes. "Just one," he said quietly, "there's only one there."
They both heard the door open, and Mark stepped just inside. "Visiting hours are up in five, guys," he said. Turning to leave, he called back, "I'll be in to settle you for the night soon, Charlie."
"Why did you go back to see her, that night?" Don's question was soft.
Charlie's voice was toneless, as if he were answering a question he had been asked too many times. "We talked. Then we agreed that neither of us would do anything until after we met again in the morning. I left her apartment, but I couldn't go home. I guess I went to a bar. At least, I thought it was a bar, they gave me things to drink, there…" He sighed a little, turned onto his side. His eyes were open, and he played idly with the laptop. "Anyway, at some point, I couldn't wait anymore. I went back to talk to her, to beg her." He flopped onto his back again and looked Don in the eye. "I went back to beg her," he whispered. "But she was already gone."
"We found the note," Don said quietly, and Charlie closed his eyes. "What's in the e-mail?" He hated to press, but he had to know — and Charlie had to tell him, and they were going to kick him out of here any second. Charlie's eyes opened again, searched out his brother. "Just wanted me to know she's ok, wants to know if I am," he said quietly, sadly, "and that she's sure now. It would have been a mistake." He shifted in the bed, adding, "Oh. And she wants to know why you hung up on her. I think she's afraid you might go all 'big brother' on her, or something."
Charlie was still looking at Don, and Don tried to make sure his eyes reflected his heart. "Listen, I know I haven't really said this, but you know I'm sorry, right? You know I would change this, have you not go through this, if I could?"
He didn't think Charlie's smile could get any sadder, but it did. This time Charlie reached out to touch his arm. "You can't, Donnie. Don't beat yourself up about that." He sighed again and lay back down, closed his eyes, rolled over to his side. His voice was very quiet, but Don heard it. "And yeah, of course I know that. I love you, too."
