A/N: Mercy. I didn't mean to send anyone running for bottles of Prozac. (There won't be enough for all of us.) Here is an extra chapter today for those of you who have been so kind and loyal.

Chapter 5

Three hours later, Don sat beside Charlie's bed in the trauma bay. A frightening-looking tube was coming out of his chest, taped to his skin – which at least had some color, again.

Don was waiting either for Charlie to wake up, in which case he would rip him a new one for not taking care of himself; or, for his father to show up, in which case Don would collapse on him like a child. He hoped his father wouldn't do something reckless on the way here – he had hated leaving a message like that on the house phone, but Alan had apparently taken off without his cell, again. This time it was answered by another volunteer at the homeless shelter, who said Alan had just left – without his phone -- after helping serve lunch. Don almost hadn't called the house and left the message. The doctor had said Charlie would be released in a few hours, if a second x-ray showed no recurrence of the pneumothorax…. Don had been listening to Charlie breathe for a while, though, and even with the oxygen and the chest tube it sounded labored. Don was afraid the air was building up around Charlie's lung again, and it would collapse again, and…he just felt the need for some back-up.

"Stop it."

Don was pulled roughly out of his thoughts by Charlie's raspy voice. He looked up from his hands quickly and saw dark eyes studying him. He leaned forward a little. "What? Stop what, Buddy? Do you need me to call the doctor?"

Don had half-stood before he heard Charlie's answer. "Stop…obsessing. You heard the doctor. I'll be fine. You didn't call Dad, did you?"

Don sank in the chair again and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "Hell, yes, Charlie. To both questions. I heard the doctor say that pressure has slowly been building up around your lung since Friday night. Why didn't you say something?"

Charlie looked appropriately guilty. "That doctor on Friday night said I would be sore…and there's a bruise, so I thought that was all it was. Until I couldn't breathe."

Don blanched, recalling the ten terrifying minutes in Charlie's office, listening to him wheeze, waiting for the ambulance. Of course, that had been nothing compared to the five minutes in the ambulance when the wheezes grew farther and farther apart, even with the oxygen, and eventually stopped. The trauma surgeon at the hospital had instructed the paramedics to "tube him". When an EMT had taken a sharp scalpel out of a kit and sliced into his brother's chest at 80 miles per hour, Don had nearly thrown up. Charlie closed his eyes and winced, and Don noticed. "Dammit Charlie," he said, gruffly. "Take the stupid morphine."

His brother opened his eyes again. They seemed decidedly moister. "Hate that stuff," he whispered. The eyes drifted shut almost immediately and a hand clutched at the thin sheet over him. "Maybe something else?"

Don stood so quickly he got a little dizzy. He didn't even speak to Charlie again, but headed for the nearest nurse. If Charlie was admitting he needed anything for pain, the world was about to end. He had almost reached her when the doctor who had been treating Charlie rounded a corner, and Don changed his trajectory a little, and quickened his pace. He skidded to a stop in front of the man, blocking his further progress. "My brother is in pain."

The doctor lifted his eyebrows. "I'm not surprised. I offered him morphine. You heard him refuse. Refused Demoral, too."

"I think he may have reconsidered on that last one."

The doctor grinned a little and waited for Don to move. When he didn't, the man looked at him kindly. "Is it all right if I examine him? It's about time to send him down for his second set of x-rays."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ten minutes later, Charlie's mind was embracing the Demoral and his body was on its way to x-ray. Don stepped out of the trauma bay long enough to try the house, again. Alan answered in a rush of breath. "Hello? Don?"

"Yeah."

"I just played the machine, I've been home for half an hour wondering where Charlie was. He said he was coming home early…" His father was whining a little, and then descended into absolute panic. "I can't find my damn keys. I'm coming, I just can't find my damn keys!"

Thank God, Don thought. "Wait, Dad, just take a breath…Charlie's in x-ray right now, and the doc says if the films look good, he'll let Charlie go home." He tried not to sound as opposed to that as he was. He had all-but accused the man of malpractice. This was his brother they were talking about kicking loose, here. The hospital had already done that once, and look what happened! "You should probably stay there. We could end up passing on the freeway."

Alan was silent. Don waited. Finally, a distrustful "Are you telling me the truth?"

Don tried not to be offended. "Yes, of course I am! This guy, this Dr. Peterson, he just listened to his lungs and gave him a hit of Demerol and said things sounded good. He expects the x-rays to confirm that the lung has reinflated and air flow is good."

Don heard the panic creep back into Alan's voice. "Reinflated? Lung has REINFLATED? Good night, Donnie, what are you talking about? The message just said Charlie was having difficulty breathing!"

Oops. Forgot that. Don honestly couldn't remember what he said on the message. "Look, I'll tell you the details when we get there. Some…tension pneumo thing…" Don wasn't sure, but he thought he could actually hear Alan squeezing the phone receiver.

Finally his father sighed. "You call me. Either way. If you're going to head home, or it they decide to keep him longer."

"I will, Dad. I should get back in. I want to be there when he gets back."

"Of course. I'll keep looking for my damn keys, just in case."

Don actually smiled a little. "Dad. Have you checked your pockets?"

Alan snorted in impatience. "Don't you start treating me as if…" The sentence suddenly cut off. In another second, Don barely heard a stifled, "Oh…I could have sworn that was the first place I looked."