Chapter 11

By morning Charlie's temperature, while still elevated, was low enough to discontinue the cooling bed and ice packs. Nurses finally convinced the three Eppes to take a few hours off by explaining that Charlie was scheduled for an MRI to check the condition of his wounds, and then would have to be transferred to another bed. Don almost slugged the petite redhead who finally rolled her eyes at him and said, "We got work to do, ya know", but he saw in time that she was trying to lighten the mood.

He was starting to feel wholly unlike himself.

Archie was the strong one last night, and this morning he almost slugged a woman half his size. Maybe he should take a few hours to decompress.

Director Merrick called his cell before Don managed to phone the office, leaving a voice mail that assured him that both he and Archie were on an indefinite leave of absence. Don went home with Alan and Archie. They found Larry and Megan at the kitchen table.

She jumped up almost guiltily. "I spent the night last night. On the couch. I hope it was okay. It was so late when I got here, and Mrs. Singer had given Larry jellied eel and pain meds, and he wasn't feeling well, and…"

Alan stopped the ramble with a hug. "Hush, Megan. Of course it's all right." He looked over her shoulder at Larry. "Sorry about Mrs. Singer."

Larry smiled. "As you should be, Alan. But I understand that you needed to be with Charles. I'm just pleased Don and Archie are finally back safely." He winked at Megan, who had disentangled herself from Alan and was sitting at the table again. "And Megan and David. Of course." He sobered. "I'm somewhat reluctant to ask…"

"About Charlie?" Alan started for the coffee pot and then thought better of it. He didn't need the caffeine. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and looked momentarily lost.

"Alan?"

He focused again on Larry, but found that he was too tired to even fake a smile. "He's better. I think. Still feverish, but not so much. They're going to put him in a regular bed, again."

"Has he regained consciousness?"

Alan sighed. "Not really. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, even with all they're giving him...He's having an MRI this morning. I'll go back this afternoon."

"WE will go back this afternoon." It was the first thing Archie had said. So much smaller than the two men standing in the kitchen, they had almost forgotten she was there. Now Megan stood again and crossed the floor to her, where she huddled near the door.

"Archie. I'm so sorry. Larry told me what happened, and it's just...unbelieveable. How are you?"

"I'm f..." Archie looked at Don, quickly. "You two. You and your brother. Teaching a girl denial, because you're such experts." She looked back at Megan. "A wreck. I am a wreck. When I think that Charlie could have...could have died, while I was on some stupid case! And poor Alan, not being able to reach any of us. No wonder he ended up in the ER hooked up to an EKG."

Megan's eyes widened and Larry's "Oh, dear" was interrupted by Alan. "I'm all right, it was only an anxiety attack. It's all right."

"Dad, you need to get some rest." Don used his best FBI team leader voice, inviting no debate. "You too, Arch."

Megan hugged Archie for a long moment, then turned again toward the others. "Larry and I were just waiting for you to come home. I have his things ready - thank you so much, Alan, for taking care of him...I thought I could take over, now? Your plate is already full."

"Larry is welcome here," Alan began, but he caught a look from both Don and Archie. "Eh...always welcome. But you're right. It wouldn't be fair to subject him to Mrs. Singer anymore in his condition."

Megan chuckled. "David dropped me off here last night. Let me just call a cab."

Don reached for his keys and realized he hadn't brought the chopper with him. Instead he held up a hand and deftly caught the ones tossed by his father. "Don't be ridiculous, Megan. I'll give you and Larry a ride to...your apartment."

She smiled. "Thanks. I changed the bed in your old room, so promise me you'll come right back here and sleep for a few hours."

"Scout's Honor," he said. "I've gotta come back here. It's Dad's car. Besides, if they're not both asleep by the time I get back, I'm hitting them over the head with a shovel."

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Don tried to sleep.

Honestly.

He knew he should be tired. He'd been up all night, after all. But the jumbled mess that passed for a mind would not slow down. Charlie would complain, sometimes, that he had a hard time shutting himself down, and had a lifelong habit of working himself into exhaustion.

Don sat up on the edge of the bed. 107. His temperature had been 107. If Charlie was able to recover from the initial physical trauma, had his prolonged and incredibly high fever done any damage to that frightening brain of his?

Don shivered. He wouldn't think about that possibility. He couldn't.

Giving up, he got up, found the extra clothes he kept here at the house and got dressed. Barefoot, he padded across the hall and quietly opened the door to Charlie and Archie's room. Archie was curled up on her side, hugging Charlie's pillow to her in sleep. He closed the door and padded down the hall to his father's room, where the door was slightly ajar. He only had to stand outside to hear the steady snoring. He smiled, stopped at his own room again for his shoes, and headed down the stairs, where he put them on and left a note, while he waited for a cab.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

The petite readhead he had almost slugged three hours ago scowled.

"I thought I told you not to come back until this afternoon. It's only 11."

He didn't feel like charming her. Or anyone else. "I'll wait, if I can't see him. I just want to be...close."

She looked down to check the feed from Charlie's monitors, looked back up and crossed her arms.

"I have an extra patient load today. Working short. I might not notice, if you were to go in early - IF YOU WERE QUIET, I might not notice."

Don grinned, tossed a mock salute, and headed down the hall.

Once in Charlie's room, he immediately crossed to the bed and checked the monitors. 102.4. Up two-tenths. He frowned. Pulse and resps seemed better, though.

He looked at Charlie, who at least looked more normal with a sheet over him instead of surrounded by...sandbags.

He spoke quietly. "Buddy. You're doing great. Keep it up. I'll just sit here awhile, okay?"

Wait.

What was that?

Had he seen Charlie's eyes open a slit, slide shut again?

"Charlie?" He carefully gripped a few fingers on Charlie's uninjured side.

He smiled broadly. This time there was no mistaking it. The eyes were only at half-mast, but they were definitely open.

Charlie's mouth worked. No sound came out. Don looked around and was glad to find a fairly fresh cup of ice chips on the bedside table. He let go of Charlie's fingers, and his own hand shook as he spooned a tiny sliver of ice into his brother's mouth. He saw it melt almost immediately. Charlie's mouth worked like he wanted more, but Don was afraid to give it to him. He was still considering it when he heard a raspy sound come from Charlie.

He leaned over and tilted an ear toward Charlie, grabbed his fingers again. "What? Did you say something, Buddy?"

There it was again, more of a breath than a word. "...Need…"

His heart quickened. "What do you need, Charlie? I'll get it for you."

"...Y...You..." Charlie moaned a little, swallowed, then added one last word with obvious effort. "Scared."

Don squeezed his own eyes shut, pulled back a little and spoke quietly into Charlie's ear. "Don't be scared, Buddy, I'm right here. Don will take care of everything." He applied a little more pressure to Charlie's fingers. "Do you feel that, Charlie? I'm right here. I'm staying right here. Just rest. It's all right."

He pulled back a little more, looked at Charlie's face. The eyes were closed again, he hoped that he'd heard him.

And then he felt Charlie's fingers wiggle in his hand.