Chapter 9

After Colby got back to the hospital, while he was waiting, he roamed the perimeter with his cell. From the ER waiting room he called Megan, got Larry's phone number. From the south entrance, he called Larry. He walked to the opposite north entrance, called David. He had a hard time convincing each of them not to come to the hospital, and Megan was there anyway when he got back to the ER waiting room.

He found her huddled on a chair. She jumped up when she saw him, grabbed his arm when he got close enough. "Tell me what to do," she begged, and he wished he could, he wished that something would make a difference.

"I'm just waiting," he said, and they both sat down again. Five minutes later, she stood.

"I'm going to Larry's," she announced, looking at him like she expected him to argue.

He just nodded, watched her leave, and waited some more.

Eight hours after Charlie was taken to the ER, at 4 a.m., he was released. Don appeared in front of Colby. "It's time to go," he said quietly, and Colby saw Charlie emerging from the exam room slowly, haunted eyes searching for something. Colby ran ahead to get the car, and Don steadied Charlie's elbow as they walked slowly to the exit.

Colby had called Alan as soon as he got to the car, and he was waiting anxiously for them at the door to Don's apartment 20 minutes later. He seized his youngest from the strong arms that had guided him up the stairs, tried to take him in his own, but Charlie pulled back, would have stumbled out the door if Don and Colby hadn't still been behind him. Alan met Don's eyes and settled to a gentle hand to Charlie's head, instead.

"Do you want to take a shower, son? I put some things for you in the bathroom."

Charlie looked around blankly, and Don pushed past him, took his arm. "This way, Buddy." He led him down the hall. Once in the bathroom, Charlie looked in the mirror, and it occurred to Don that he probably hadn't done that since it happened. His brother licked his lips, stared at his own reflection. Still staring, he spoke so quietly Don wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been waiting so long to hear his brother's voice. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure." Don backed off, out the door, stepped into Alan waiting in the hall.

"Just go on into Don's room and sleep for awhile, son," their father called. "Everything's ready for you."

As Don closed the door he looked at Alan. "That's the first thing he's said."

Alan looked shocked, and Don hurried to explain. "Besides 'yes' and 'no', I mean, to the people at the hospital. He didn't even say that much to me and Colby on the way here."

They walked back to the living room, separated. Don sat wearily on the couch, leaned his head back. Colby sat at the kitchen bar, drinking some of the coffee Alan had made while he was waiting for them. Alan wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator. "I'm going to clean this out," he announced to no one in particular, and he reached into the unknown.

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Colby left around 6 for his own place. Alan moved from the refrigerator to cleaning the stove and oven, which Don hardly used enough to justify cleaning, but he let him do it anyway. His dad had been cleaning his place most of the night, and was going to run out of apartment soon. David had just arrived when at 11 they heard a door open, looked quickly at each other, then to the hallway. Charlie was advancing toward them, one hand trailing the wall, the other cupped over his ear. Don and Alan both hurried to him, helped him to the couch. They just stared at him for a while.

"How do you feel, Alan finally asked.

Charlie's voice was still hoarse, from the screaming and the sudden lack of use. "Dizzy," he murmured. "Ringing." He only seemed capable of one-word answers.

Alan turned to the kitchen counter to retrieve the medication Don had brought home with him. "They sent something for that," he said, but Charlie's voice stopped him.

"No. Still fuzzy."

Without something to do, Alan was at a loss, and he looked helplessly at Don.

"Can I get you something else?" he asked his brother.

Charlie looked up at them, and worked his way up to four consecutive words: "Tell me what happened."

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Don sat down on the couch, turned to face his brother on the other end, and told Charlie everything he knew. How Corriander had insinuated himself into the investigation. How he had let him.

"But nobody gets in the bullpen without clearance," Alan said. "I can't even get up there to see you when we meet for lunch. I always have to wait in the lobby."

"That's what I came to tell you," interrupted David. "Corriander bypassed the clearance check, a security guard…", he took a notebook out of his pocket, looked down quickly. "…Daniel James… gave him direct access. Background check showed that James used to work with Corriander at L.A.P.D." Don and Alan took in that information. "Guard's been fired," David finished lamely, "but he might be subject to prosecution as well."

Don shook his head. "He thought he knew him."

David protested. "Still. Against every rule there is, Don. You know that. If he had just gone through the usual clearance, L.A.P.D. would have told us he wasn't part of the case."

Charlie had been silent, but now he looked at Don.

"You didn't check on him."

Don wished so hard that he didn't have to say it, that it only came out as a whisper. "No."

Charlie's eyes filled with tears, and Don had to drop his gaze. "I'm so sorry." When Charlie said it, Don looked up again quickly.

"What?"

"I know you, Donnie." His brother took a breath, struggled to say it all. "No matter who tells you it's not your fault, so matter how many times you hear that, you're not going to believe it. You'll carry this…" he turned his eyes to his father. "Don't let him carry this."

"Charlie…" Don couldn't believe Charlie was apologizing to him. "My G-d, Charlie…"

His brother grabbed the arm of the couch, pushed himself up. He listed to one side, and David was the first to reach him. Holding on to the other man for balance, Charlie looked again at Don. "I don't know how to breathe," he said, and was met with silence. He looked at his father. "I can't remember what Pi is." Listing again, holding tighter to David, he turned back to Don. "Please. I need you to tell me how to breathe. Don't disappear on me, don't guilt yourself away from me." He was crying openly now, and Don felt himself rise, felt his arms wrap around his brother, felt the tears soaking into his t-shirt. "Please," Charlie was clutching at his shirt now, sinking to the floor. "Tell me how to breathe."