Chapter 6

Charlie sat, in a corner of the waiting area, arms wrapped around himself as if he were cold. He was rocking slightly, and he looked so pathetic and alone, sitting there, it wasn't hard at all for Megan to spot him.

In truth, Charlie wasn't cold. He was actually using one arm to hold the other in place. He had ripped off his sling in order to drive himself and his father to the hospital. Then, he had reached out to try and catch Alan as he dropped. His shoulder, over the last few hours, had steadied from a flaming burn into a vicious throb.

It had taken him over two hours to even think of calling any of Don's team members. Colby was now with LAPD, trying to figure out what had happened. Charlie had not been able to reach David, and Megan was sitting down next to him. "I was probably here when they brought him in," she said. "I was upstairs visiting Larry."

Charlie tried to stop rocking, but it seemed to improve the pain in his shoulder. "How is he?", he asked, not taking his eyes off the floor.

Megan took in his appearance. "Are you all right, Charlie? Maybe you should have someone tape up your arm, again."

Charlie didn't answer, so finally Megan did. "Larry is about the same as when I saw him at lunch. He still has a high fever. A little higher, actually. He didn't remember your coming to see him."

Charlie didn't respond to that, either.

"Have you heard anything about…either of them?"

Charlie finally looked at her. It was well after midnight of the first day he'd been back to work since the accident, and he was clearly exhausted. "D-Dad has septicemia," he started.

Megan raised her eyebrows. "Blood poisoning? How?"

"They found a small cut on his leg. Said it was at least several days old. He must have hurt himself somehow on the cruise, and it got infected…" Charlie looked as guilty as if he had taken a knife to his father himself. "Don has a Grade 3 concussion, and…and a hairline skull fracture." His own voice fractured saying the words, and Megan winced. "He won't wake up," Charlie finished lamely.

They sat silently for a while, and he spoke again. "Don's in a room on the third floor, but Dad's isn't ready yet. How can a room not be ready in the middle of the night?" His voice was plaintive.

Megan touched his arm gently. "Let me give you a ride home. You need some rest, Charlie. I'll bring you back in the morning."

He kept talking as if he hadn't heard her. "I found the pattern."

Megan studied him. "What pattern?"

Charlie smiled sadly at her, and turned his attention to the floor again. "To everything. It's me. I'm the link, the common denominator."

"Charlie, what are you talking about?"

He brought one arm down from his chest so that he could enumerate for her on his fingers. "I was in the car with Peter Henderson. We were talking. Maybe if we hadn't been talking, things…things would have been different. After, Larry had to be with his family, because I listened to Peter strangle on his own blood and couldn't save him, and, and Larry got sick. I sent my Dad on that cruise; he hurt himself because I sent him there. Then he got sick, too. And I was talking to Donnie on the phone tonight, so he wasn't paying attention."

"Charlie, you know that's not true. None of these things are your fault. They were…random occurrences."

"Ch-Chaos Theory," Charlie supplied.

"Right," Megan answered. "Wrong place, wrong time kind of things."

Charlie shook his head and looked at her. "No. Maybe one. But all of them? There has to be a pattern."

Before Megan could respond again, they were joined by the doctor. "Mr. Eppes, your father is settled in a room, now. He's still unconscious, but we're hopeful we've caught the septicemia early and the antibiotic cocktail we've started will show improvement by morning, and the IV fluids will stablize his blood pressure." He noticed the awkward way Charlie was holding his arm. "Don't tell me we missed another injury. Your arm?"

"He was in an automobile accident last week," Megan offered. "Dislocated shoulder."

"It's okay," Charlie said, even though it was obvious to all of them that it wasn't. "The sling is as home. I had to drive. Dad was sick."

The doctor sighed. "Then go home and put it back on, son. There's nothing more you can do here tonight, and you look ready to drop, yourself."

"I'll take him," Megan reiterated, but Charlie didn't look like he was moving anytime soon. The doctor sat on the other side of Charlie.

"I would consider it a personal favor it you went home," he said. "Otherwise, from the looks of it, I'll have to explain to my superiors how two Eppes ended up unconscious in my waiting room in two separate incidents during the same shift." The doctor never knew it, but his next words were the magic ones that sent Charlie home. "I really think you've done enough for one night."

Charlie shuddered.

Megan was wrong.

Even the doctor could see the pattern.

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So Charlie let Megan drive him home, and he put his sling back on and sat on the couch, clutching his cell phone with his good hand, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to fight chaos.