Chapter Fourteen

The Eppes men had fallen into a routine, it had happened quickly, Charlie would cook the meals and help Don to eat, Alan would get him up in the morning, washed , dressed and shaved. Don, as much as he didn't want to admit it, had become used to the care. It had taken a few days, at first he'd hated the attention, he had avoided his families eyes, yet with each task they assisted him with he relaxed further into his new way of life. Although the dreams still persisted.

His acceptance of his helplessness hadn't been an easy road to walk. For any of them. Don had been doing pretty well with the feeding until the moment Charlie had to break up a sandwich for him. Accepting soup and eggs had seemed so much easier, but watching his brother tear off parts of the bread and ham, having to be handed the food without a spoon, without a fork, somehow that had made it all so real. Charlie had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water and Don had attempted to pick up the sandwich himself, only his right hand was incapable and his left refused to grip with enough pressure to hold the sandwich, refused to raise high enough to his mouth. He'd knocked the plate from the table in anger. The resulting wave of pain almost knocking him out. Charlie had come running back in to find food all over the floor and Don laid back on the couch with his eyes closed tightly. He'd sat down next to his brother and pulled him close. Don gave no resistance which only served to heighten Charlie's worry. As he soothed the pain away his inability to fix Don had smacked him square on the jaw. His brother was in pain, both physical and mental. The renowned genius of Dr Charles Edward Eppes seemed helpless to save him.

The following few days Don had been so much more gracious in the acceptance of his care. Charlie had assumed it was a result of his breakdown with their father in the bathroom. He'd accepted his pain meds without his usual frown, allowed Charlie to pop them into his mouth, help him drink the water.

At dinner Don had knocked over a glass while trying to pull the straw closer. Charlie had taken him upstairs and dried him off, changed his clothes. Alan had cleaned up the mess in the dining room. Don had barely spoken a word. Had allowed Charlie to undress him, dry his body and then re-dress him. The acceptance Charlie could understand, but something ate away at him, something wasn't right. His brother should have been trying to get away from Charlie, trying to dry himself. He'd seemed, preoccupied. It had unnerved Charlie somewhat as he pulled the clean t-shirt over Don's head and shoulders.

The routine they'd fallen into was comforting but Charlie knew it was only a way in which they could all hide from the realities of real life. Routines were safe, no one could steal them away in the middle of the night and beat them, shoot them and torture them. Unable to sleep Charlie had spent the night writing equations, attempting to find an algorithm with which to cure his brother, with which to comfort him, help him through the torment he was so obviously faced with. Yet he had nothing. Around 3am Charlie had thrown his chalk in frustration and proceeded to knock the chalk boards over. He collapsed onto the couch, panting with the frustration and exertion of his temper. What could he do? What could he do to help the one person in his world he admired more than anyone. The one person always there, always there to comfort him, help him, balance him. That was it. Charlie stood and walked around the garage. His balance, he'd lost his balance. How could he hold Don up if he was unable to stand steady himself?

Charlie paced for almost twenty minutes before his exhaustion caught up with him. At first he felt a little light headed, but continued none the less. There had to be a way to help Don, something he could do that would open a door, turn on a light, shut out the horrors. Charlie wiped his palms against the back of his jeans, ignoring the clammy feeling spreading out from his hands. Surely there was a way, a minesweeper of the mind with which to locate all the sections tainted by Bruton, tainted by the girl and eliminate them before they took hold like a cancer.

Cancer.

Mum.

Charlie thought back to his mother and her sickness. He hadn't been there for her. Hadn't been able to help, hadn't been able to see through his own pain to hold her while she cried. That had been Don. Hadn't been there to pick her off from the floor and carry her to the bathroom. That had been Don. Hadn't been there to hold his father outside of the hospital, his father who couldn't bear to go back into the room, knowing his wife was no longer there, knowing she was lying in the hospital morgue, no, that hadn't been him. That had been Don. Their silent stone, never asking for help himself. Always there when needed. Charlie ignored the quickened pace of is heart, but he couldn't ignore the black spots dancing across his vision. As he laid back on the couch, desperately trying to control his breathing, he though of Don. Thought of their life without him, thought of the movie his mother used to make them watch every Christmas when it was on. Thought of Jimmy Stewart and his realisation that the world was a better place with him. As Charlie passed out he thought back to the sound of Don's pain escaping from the confines of the bathroom, the sanctity of his fathers embrace.

Alan had awoken a little after 7am. Had quietly checked on Don, found his boy to be fast asleep. He hoped he'd stay that way for a while. Every night, without fail, Don would awake from the same nightmare. He'd started staying up later and later, only going to bed at the same time as Alan. He needed to rest, needed to heal but Alan knew Don laid awake at night, fearing the dream, fearing he'd awake to find himself back in that room. The reality being he never left. His family being the dream in which he'd taken refuge from the pain .

Once downstairs in the kitchen Alan began getting the coffee ready and wondering what they should have for breakfast. Charlie had made scrambled eggs four days in a row now. Alan couldn't stand a fifth. He glanced outside and stopped when he saw the light in the garage was still on. Slowly making his way to the door he thought of all the things he'd be saying to his little boy. They all needed sleep and the fact that Charlie was working through the night was not sitting well with Alan. He stopped as he tried to comprehend the scene before him. Chalk boards across the floor, paper strewn all over the place, Charlie, barely balancing on the couch. Alan ran to him and tried to rouse him, he looked pale and drawn. Shaking him harder Charlie began to stir, Alan ran back to the house to get a glass of water. When he returned Charlie was looking around, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Charlie, no don't get up. Drink this"

Charlie gratefully accepted the cool liquid.

"Charlie what happened?"

"I, um, I don't know. I felt kinda funny so laid down, that's the last I remember"

Alan helped Charlie into a more comfortable sitting position. Laid his hand on his head and gave him his sternest frown.

"You were working all night weren't you?"

"No, honestly I .."

"Charlie stop. I will not have both my boys sick. You have to be more responsible than this. Do you see anyone else working so late at night?"

Charlie opened his mouth to answer but Alan continued regardless.

"No you don't, shall I tell you why? Because they are sleeping Charlie, SLEEPING, which is what I expect you to be doing in half an hour"

"Half an hour?"

"You are going into that house, you will eat toast, drink some orange, and then you are going to go to bed. TO SLEEP, do I make myself clear young man?"

Charlie nodded. Words didn't seem like the optimal path to chose right now.

Once he'd eaten Alan insisted on Charlie having almost a litre of orange juice. Charlie had to admit, the feeling of food in his belly and the sugar from the juice had helped him shake the weak feeling he'd had since he'd woken in the garage. He placed his cup and plate in the sink and pulled down the bowl for Don's eggs. Alan pulled the bowl away from him .

"No you don't my little boy. You'll do nothing more than take yourself up to bed"

"But I have Don's breakfast to get ready, I'll do that then go and sleep."

Charlie reached for the bowl again but his father stood firm.

"Bed. Now"

"Dad, I feel fine" Charlie adopted his best puppy dog eyes but could see there was little to no affect.

"I'm fine, once Don is settled then I'll sleep"

"I'll take care of Don today, we'll be leaving you so there'll be no excuse for your not achieving at least five more hours of sleep"

"Where are we going?"

Don stood in the doorway, his hair was mussed and he had dark circles under his eyes. His father had agreed to remove the sling while he slept but he was holding his left arm to his chest. The pain evident in his features. Alan filled a glass of water while he spoke.

"Your brother here passed out so seeing as there's things we need, I'm taking you to the store with me"

"You ok buddy?" Charlie saw the pain on Don's face morph into concern in seconds. How did he do that? Always more concerned for his family than himself.

"I'm fine, honestly, just a little over tired" He ignored the hmph from his father.

"Water Donnie?"

"Yeah Dad, thanks"

Alan held Don's chin as he tipped the water into his son's mouth. Ever since he was a toddler Don had always awakened from sleep dehydrated. Once satisfied Don pulled away.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, the only way Charlie will sleep is if we are not anywhere near here for him to get distracted. You've been cooped up in this house far to long , you need to stretch your legs, and I have food to buy and parcels to post. So we'll be going to the store Donnie. No questions or resistance from either of you ,you hear?"

Alan waved his finger at his sons. Neither gave any argument. Both slowly nodded. Both fearing that at any second they'd be grounded for life. It always amused Don that his father still had that power to make them feel like small children.

While his father cleaned him Don's mind wandered back to his idea. He'd need his fathers help. Need both of their approval. Their approval and understanding. That wasn't going to be easy.

"Lean forward Donnie"

Alan gently cleaned his son's back, concerned he was too quiet.

"Are you in pain?"

"No dad, the meds have kicked in. I'm good"

Alan studied his son, his eyes were a little glazed so maybe it was just the meds making him quiet. Yet his parental instinct was on alert. The hairs on the back of his neck refused to lay low. Something was definitely up.

He brushed Don's teeth, all the while taking in his appearance , trying to gauge his mood.

"Spit Don"

Don spat out the toothpaste and accepted the water his father offered, he rinsed his mouth and spat again. Standing up he was faced with his father's concern.

"Are you sure you're ok ?"

"I'm fine, honestly I'm good"

"Uh huh?"

"Uh huh"

Alan had ushered Charlie to his room, threatened to take away his TV and books unless he slept and grounded him for the day, Charlie had tried his best whining voice but Alan had threatened to put him over his knee and smack him. The laughter had been welcomed. He'd watched as Charlie pulled the covers around himself. A few minutes later gentle snores could be heard from his room.

Don had been eager to get out of the house. It had been a week, a week of being inside. He walked next to his father, breathing deep and savouring the change of scenery. Alan had given him strict instructions, he was there only as an observer, a consultant Alan called him. No trolley pushing, parcel carrying or assistance of any kind was to be offered. Don hadn't been able to hide his smile.

"Don, sweet corn or peas?"

"What about both?"

"Alright then, both"

"Are we having steak tonight?"

"You never tire of steak do you my boy? You get that from me you know"

"Along with my stubbornness as well?"

"So you admit you're stubborn?"

"Only if you admit you are"

"Well, I wouldn't call it stubborn. More like an independent will power to do things my way and my way alone"

They turned down the meat isle, as Alan reached for the steak Don spoke quietly behind him.

"I need you to help me with something"

"Anything Donnie"

"You're not going to like it though"

"Uh huh?"

"Uh huh, I want you to call Megan for me, I tried but, you know"

They both looked at his right hand, with the blue cast and the puzzle which neither of them had been able to work out. Don was convinced it was to do with squares but his father wasn't as sure.

"What is it Don?"

"I need you to call Megan….call her and ask her to set up a meeting with Bruton"

Alan dropped the steak and received a tsk tsk from an elderly lady at the end of the isle.

"I need you to understand Dad, I have to do this, I have to face him"

"No Donnie you do not. What you have to do is put this behind you. That's what you have to do"

"Dad, the dreams are getting worse" Don lowered his voice as the elderly woman made her way past them.

"I need to speak to him. I need to know if what he says, about not knowing who she is, I need to know that's true. I have to talk to him"

"Can't you ask Megan to do that for you? Wouldn't that be better?"

Don shook his head and then lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I need to do this. For my own peace of mind. I need to confront him. He thought he'd broken me, I need to prove to him, to myself, that he didn't."

Don looked up into his father's eyes, Alan's own began to water at the conviction he saw in his son's gaze.

"I need to do this, I need to do this in order to move on"

"I'll be there for you Donnie"

"No Dad, I don't want either of you there. I want you home, waiting for me when I get back."

"No Don, we're coming with you, we're your family and you'll be needing us"

"That's right, I'll be needing you, but I don't want either of you anywhere near the sick son-of-a-bitch. Please, I won't be able to do this if I know you're within his reach."

"Nothing will happen to us Don"

"I know, but still. I'd rather have home to look forward to, with you and Charlie, than know you're outside the room where he can taunt you."

"I don't like this Don. I guess there's not much I can say to change your mind?"

Don shook his head. Alan held onto his right arm and pulled him close, Don hesitated for a second, very aware that they could be seen, then returned the embrace.

"Ok, I don't fully understand, but ok. You have to explain to Charlie though."

"I was hoping you'd do that once I'd gone?"

"No Don. You talk to him."