Charlie's POV

I was relieved to be going home.

Dad was waiting in my hospital room while Don brought the car around.

It still frustrated me that I couldn't remember everything that had happened to me. Don had tried to fill me in, but it just wasn't the same. I had this nagging feeling that there was something he was leaving out.

I was still as weak as a newborn kitten. The medication did that to me. Dad and Don had to help me get up, and even when I was standing, I had to lean on Don while Dad led the way.

"Sorry, guys," I said as I shifted my weight.

"It's not a problem," Don said with a grunt.

My knees felt like they were ready to give out. I tried to hold strong until we got to the car.

Don let me lean on him until we got there. I was relieved when we finally made it there. Before Dad could even open the door for me, I fell forward against the car.

"Easy, Buddy," Don said as he caught me around the waist.

"Sorry, Don."

Dad held the door open for me and Don helped me get in. I clutched the door handle until I could get myself inside.

I finally made it into the seat. I breathed heavily from the efforts just to get here.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dad asked from the passenger seat.

"I'm fine, Dad," I replied.

Don drove us home. It was a quiet ride, except for a few polite comments.

Don was worrying me. He seemed distant since I had fallen. I feared he was blaming himself for what happened. But from what I knew, he had nothing to do with it. I'd have to talk to him about it later.

Don's POV

I stepped out of the car and walked around to the other side to help Charlie out.

Dad was already out and opening the door for Charlie.

He nearly fell out of the car, instead of stepping out like he should have.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

"I'll be fine."

Dad moved to the back of the car to get Charlie's bags.

"You boys head on up. I'll be there in a minute," Dad called as he opened the trunk.

Charlie stepped away from me, trying to walk on his own. I looked back at Dad to see if he was getting everything okay when he called out to me.

"Don!" Dad yelled as he pointed to Charlie.

I looked back at Charlie. He was beginning to fall face forward.

I quickly grabbed him around the waist and Charlie began to throw up what little food he had eaten that day.

Dad rushed over to us.

"It's okay, kiddo," Dad spoke soothingly to Charlie as he rubbed his back.

When Charlie straightened, I grabbed him by the arm.

"Sorry, Dad," Charlie said, realizing he had thrown up in Dad's bushes.

"Don't worry about it. It's supposed to rain tonight anyway."

I smiled at Dad. I could tell it bothered him, but not enough to yell at Charlie. He couldn't help it.

"I'll go back for those bags now."

I basically carried Charlie the rest of the way.

When we got inside, he moved to the couch.

"No, let's get you up to bed."

"But it's so far away," He whined, exhaustion in his voice.

"Just a few stairs and we'll be there."

After a few near fallings, we finally made it to the top of the stairs and to Charlie's room.

He collapsed onto the bed as soon as I let go of him.

"Not even going to change?" I teased.

He shook his head.

"Get some sleep, Buddy."

I walked towards the door, but was stopped by Charlie's voice.

"Don?"

"Yeah?"

"Are...are you blaming yourself for what happened to me?"

I froze. Shaking myself out of my f ear, I made myself move to his bed.

"Don't blame yourself, Donnie. It was an accident."

"Charlie-"

"I mean it. Don't blame yourself. I'm fine, Don. Honest."

I sighed. He began to slip into sleep, so I didn't bother to correct him. We'd have to talk about this soon, though.

I went back downstairs and saw that Dad had already gotten Charlie's bags inside.

"I could have helped you with that, Pop," I said as I came into the kitchen for a beer.

"I'm not that old, Donnie."

I laughed, though it was strained.

"What's the matter?" Dad asked, noticing the strain.

"Nothing, Dad. I'm glad Charlie's home."

"Me too."

I sat down in the living room and turned on the tv in search of a good game.

Alan's POV

I watched Don from the kitchen. He seemed kind of off since Charlie fell down the stairs. I was concerned for both of my sons, or at least more so than usual.

I walked up the stairs to Charlie's room.

He lay shivering on his bed. He wasn't under any covers and was still wearing his street clothes.

I chuckled softly as I pulled the covers out from under him, then placed them gently over him. I made sure to take off his shoes.

I placed my hand on Charlie's forehead. He felt slightly warm, but I trusted in his antibiotics to do their job.

When I went downstairs, I found Don in a similar state. He was sitting up in the arm chair, sound asleep.

I chuckled as I moved to get an old blanket from the closet. I placed it over Don's sleeping form.

"I guess they still need their father," I said to myself as I went into the kitchen once more.

Charlie's POV

The next day I felt much better. I was able to walk down the steps by myself without falling over.

"You look better this morning," Dad said to me when I walked into the dining room.

"I feel better, too."

"That's good. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Do we have any eggs?"

"What kind of question is that? 'Do we have any eggs.' Please, Charlie. Every household has eggs. Do you know anything about cooking?"

I laughed as Dad continued to mumble to himself as he walked into the kitchen to make breakfast.

"How do you want them?" He called.

"Scrambled!" I called back.

"What's with all the yelling?" Don mumbled as he walked groggily into the dining room.

"What are you doing here? Were you here all night?" I asked, confused.

"Why? Am I not welcome here anymore?" He snapped.

"Sorry. I was just asking."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm like this before my coffee."

I laughed as he went into the kitchen in search of coffee.

I came back a few minutes later with a steaming cup in his hands.

He sat down heavily in the chair opposite mine.

I smiled at his bed head. His hair was sticking up in places it shouldn't.

"What?" He asked, noticing my smile.

"Nothing, nothing." I said, pretending to not be amused at his hair.

Dad came back out with a plate of scrambled eggs.

"What do you want, Donnie?" He asked.

"I just want some toast. I can get it. Sit down," Don said as he began to rise.

"Stay put. I'm the chef, remember?"

Don sat without complaint.

We sat there in silence until Dad came back with the toast.

"You want any butter or jelly for that?"

"No thanks, Pop. I'm fine."

"Okay. Well, if you boys will be okay without me, I need to go."

"Where are you off to this early?" I asked.

"I'm going down to the homeless shelter. We're doing a brunch today."

"Oh, well, good luck with that. I hope you have fun."

"Thanks. You boys behave." He called as he walked out the door.

I laughed. Dad still called us "boys" like he did when we were little.

I turned back to Don, whose face showed fear and a fight for control.

"Don? What is it? What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"Charlie... we need to talk."