Don couldn't believe something as simple as standing up could hurt so much, but God did it ever. He sensed Charlie by his left side, his hands hovering near – but not touching – Don's left hip. Don refused to contribute to his brother's worry anymore than he already had, so he bit his lip to keep from moaning in pain. The end result actually turned out to be worse as he bit hard enough to draw blood.
"Don!" Charlie cried in alarm. "You're bleeding!"
Anna looked up and from where she'd been watching Don shuffle his feet, frowning as she saw the red stain on his mouth. "Don," she chided as she grabbed a Kleenex and gently wiped at the blood. "You agreed to tell me if you were in pain."
"Didn't hurt that bad at first," he lied. But it's killing me now, he added silently. He had no desire to lie back down in the bed, but even he had to admit that he was done for the day. "Hurts now," he reluctantly admitted.
"Grab his hip and steady him like I showed you earlier," Anna told Charlie. That had been a fun game – learning where you could and could not touch Don. His left arm and pretty much the entire left side of his body from the waist up was on the 'do not touch' list. Anna had quickly improvised by realizing that his hips were not bruised or injured at all. Charlie had protectively kept his hands hovering there at all times, except for the accidental contact with Don's lower back, right on top of a kidney. Don had been incredibly impressed that not only had he not passed out from the pain, but he'd subtly shifted so that Charlie's grip was in the correct spot and he'd never even discovered the pain that he'd inflicted.
Charlie obeyed her order, this time grabbing onto the correct spot. Together the two steered a very tired and sore Don back to bed. He sat down and let Anna guide him back to lie on his pillow while Charlie gently lifted his feet up and removed the hospital-issue slippers. Charlie pulled the sheet over his brother with the utmost of care while Anna made a note on Don's chart.
"Congratulations, Don," she smiled. "That was a good twelve minutes out of bed."
"That was all?" Don asked wearily. "It felt like a week."
"Small steps," she reminded him. "Tomorrow we'll start working our way up to a longer period of time." She produced a thermometer – seemingly from mid-air, Don thought – and stuck it under his tongue. She waited a minute before removing it and taking the reading. "No fever tonight. Now," she met Don's guilty gaze. "How bad is the pain on a scale of one to ten?"
Don considered lying but the intensity in the nurse's eyes was too much for him to take. "Seven?" he suggested cautiously.
"Okay, my Don Eppes conversion calculator tells me you're probably at an eight or nine by now."
He stared at Anna. "You're kidding, right?"
"No," she told him. "Your brother helped me design it. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say eight." She pulled a syringe from her pocket and injected it into his IV. "You should be feeling the effects of that very soon. And remember, Don," she added from the doorway. "There's nothing wrong with being honest when you're in pain. No shame in that, okay?"
As she left, Charlie sat next to Don's bedside and sighed. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"
Don turned his head to face his brother and frowned. "Look who's talking," he teased.
"I'm serious, Don," Charlie snapped. "What can you possibly gain by remaining silent when you're in pain?"
Don sighed and rolled his head away from Charlie. "Just drop it," he quietly whispered.
"No."
Don let out a deep breath, trying to calm his rising frustration. "Charlie," he warned.
"I mean it, Don!" Charlie yelled, both men surprised by the tone and volume of his voice. He consciously lowered his tone before continuing. "Are you ashamed – is that it? You think admitting that you're in pain is tantamount to being weak?"
"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk about it." Don wished more than anything to roll over in bed and turn his back to Charlie, but that would involve lying on his left side – something he was not planning to do again anytime soon.
"You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," Charlie said in a barely audible voice, yet the words slammed into Don like a ton of bricks. He felt tears of frustration forming and quickly closed his eyes to hide them from Charlie, who was again speaking in that feather-light voice. "You can let your guard down and the world won't fall apart." Don sensed Charlie moving impossibly closer, his voice right next to Don's ear. "That's what your family is for – to help you when you need it." Charlie's hand cupped his cheek as he quietly – pleadingly – whispered, "Just let me in. Let us in."
Don didn't know if it was Charlie's touch or his soft words, but something had broken through his defenses and he let out a soft sigh that could have been a sob. "It's hard," he whispered in a voice filled with emotion. "I don't like not being in control."
"I know," Charlie whispered sympathetically. "But you have me and Dad. You trust us, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Then let us help."
Don forced back the tears and opened his eyes, seeing Charlie regarding him with an expression of love. He smiled sadly and nodded at the younger man. "Okay, I'll try."
"Good," Charlie grinned ear to ear. "That means you have to be honest with us from now on, Don. Deal?"
Before his brother could respond, Alan came strolling into the room. "Traffic is horrible today," he grumbled, though nothing could wipe the smile off his face from seeing his two sons, alive and chatting with each other. "And my meeting ran late. How'd it go today?"
"Don got out of bed and walked!" Charlie happily bragged about his brother.
Alan asked, "Really? So soon?" His voice was tinged with concern.
"Don't worry," Charlie quickly jumped in. "He took it easy, only twelve minutes and then back to bed." Charlie beamed at his brother. "Small steps, right Don?"
Don found himself momentarily speechless as he marveled at just how supportive and in control his younger brother was as he took the lead in handling Alan's ever-present worry. Flashing his younger brother an appreciative grin, Don spoke to his father. "He's right, Dad. Small steps are the key." The room grew quiet as Charlie and Don regarded each other with knowing expressions and Alan tried to absorb his son's sudden change in attitude. Don's stomach broke the silence as it emitted a loud growl. While his father and brother chuckled, Don asked, "When's dinner? I'm looking forward to some real food."
--
'Real' food turned out to be baked chicken, with a conspicuous lack of seasoning, and steamed rice and vegetables. "This is almost as bad as the jell-o," Don pouted, glaring at Charlie as he laughed.
"Eat," Alan ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
Don rolled his eyes, gave a long-suffering sigh, and awkwardly began the task of cutting the chicken with only one hand. Charlie held his tongue, remembering the vehemence with which Don insisted that he start feeding himself again. As the chicken sidled out from under the edge of the fork for the fourth time, Charlie spoke up. "Let me at least cut it up for you." At Don's glare, he hastily clarified, "Just cut it into smaller pieces, that's all."
"Fine," Don grumbled as he handed his brother the plastic knife and fork. He sulked as Charlie quickly cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and handed the utensils back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Thanks," Don said, laughing despite himself at Charlie's antics.
"Anytime," Charlie said. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I've got to get home and prepare for a meeting with one of my students tomorrow morning. I'll leave you in Dad's capable hands."
"Okay," his brother said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "See you tomorrow?"
Charlie sensed Don's need and grinned at him. "You bet," he assured him. "I'll be here right after lunch, just in time for your walking session." Charlie suddenly remembered his conversation with Megan. "Oh yeah, your team is going to be stopping by tomorrow evening."
Don's face lit up at the news. "I was wondering if they even missed me," he joked.
"I think I heard Megan coercing them in the background... Kidding! I'm just kidding!" Charlie sidestepped the wadded up napkin that Don tossed at him.
"Boys, boys," Alan attempted to scold them, but was betrayed by his fit of laughter.
"All right, I'm going." Charlie was at the door when Don called to him. He stopped and peered back over his shoulder. "Yeah, bro?"
"Ask the nurse to bring me a pain pill?"
Charlie was doing somersaults in his mind, but calmly nodded at Don. "Sure thing."
"Are you in pain?" Alan worriedly asked as he moved to hover by Don's bedside.
"Some," Don nodded. "But I want to get it under control before it gets worse."
Alan looked up at his youngest son with an expression of complete and utter bewilderment on his face. Charlie winked and nodded. 'Thank you,' Alan mouthed to him. Charlie grinned and slipped out of the room.
TBC