Brian's heart felt like it stopped beating for a couple of seconds. Meningitis. He had heard of it before, but what he knew about it would fit on the tip of his finger. By the somber looks he was receiving from everyone in his son's room, however, he knew it couldn't be good. "Meningitis?" he asked finally. "What does that mean?"
"Let's go sit down and I can explain it to you in more detail," the older man told him authoritatively. "The nurse will stay with your son," he assured Brian, who looked down at his eerily-still son. He didn't want to leave him, but he needed to know what they were up against. "Just for a few minutes," he finally agreed, turning to follow the two doctors out of the room; Dr. Broderick walked him directly across the hall to a door marked "Conference" and opened it to usher Daphne and him into a small room furnished with two long, slate-blue cloth benches and a couple of matching chairs. Brian sat down on the edge of one of the benches to face the two doctors who took their places in the chairs and peered over at them anxiously.
Dr. Broderick glanced down at the clipboard to verify the information listed there was correct before he began. "Your son's spinal tap results we had done in addition to his blood work definitely confirm he has bacterial meningitis; that is an inflammation surrounding the membranes of the brain and spinal cord; it's caused by exposure to an infection. I had suspected your son's diagnosis earlier but needed to make sure. We will need to take aggressive action immediately."
Brian licked his lips nervously; this sounded bad – very bad. "It's serious, then."
The doctor glanced over at Daphne, who had her lips pursed together tightly, before he peered back at Brian and nodded. "Yes, I won't lie to you, Mr. Kinney. We were hoping the results might have indicated he had the less serious type – viral meningitis; but the tests proved otherwise."
Brian took a deep breath; he didn't want to ask but he had to know. "Could…..could this be fatal?" he whispered; the last word felt like a needle piercing his heart as he said it aloud. Gus…..serious….fatal.
"Mr. Kinney….."
"Doctor, I have to know," he insisted, his voice catching.
The doctor let out a soft breath. "Yes," he answered. "In some cases death can result. But," he hastened to add as he noticed the other man's face contorting in pain, "it seems to have been caught in its early stage, and that always ups the odds in the patient's favor."
Brian's hands curled into a tight fist in his lap, the nails of his fingers painfully piercing his palms, but in his current emotional state he didn't even feel it. "What kind of odds are we talking about?" he whispered.
"With early detection and quick initiation of antibiotics, which we will start your son on right away, it lowers the chances of mortality to less than 15%."
Brian thought he should be at least grateful for that much, for it still didn't fill him with reassurance. "You say the disease will respond to antibiotics?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes, we will treat him immediately with antibiotics in an attempt to prevent it from spreading to other parts of his body, including his bloodstream."
"What would happen then?" Brian asked, his voice barely audible. He didn't miss the sideways glance the doctor gave the younger female resident."
"Well, that could result in more serious consequences," the doctor told him vaguely. "Mr. Kinney, we seem to have detected it early, which is a definite advantage. In addition to the antibiotics, we'll continue the acetaminophen to reduce his fever, and begin an IV to provide fluids to help prevent dehydration. We'll have to watch your son closely for the next 48 hours to monitor his progress and just hope for the best. Your son isn't contagious through casual contact, so you're welcome to stay with him as much as you like." "
Brian nodded. "I'm not going anywhere," he vowed. He realized, however, that he could no longer put off calling Lindsey or Mel; they had to know what was going on immediately. "I just need to call his mothers.""
The doctor stood up to go, not catching the plural use of the word mothers. "I'd better get this protocol started immediately, then," he told Brian. "Dr. Chanders, would you stay with Mr. Kinney's son until I can get all the procedures in place? I want Gus kept in the ICU so he can be closely watched and a nurse with him at all times."
"Yes, Doctor," the young woman told him nodding. She turned to study Brian, whose shoulders were stooped in worry. "Mr. Kinney, I'll stay with your son until you can make your call," she assured him. "You can stay here for some privacy if you want," she offered helpfully.
He nodded gratefully at her. "Thanks," he said softly. "I'll be over as soon as I take care of this." He watched the petite woman walk over to open the door and quietly close it behind her, leaving him in silence for the first time in hours.
He rubbed his hand through his hair as he stared at the phone in his lap and tried to collect his thoughts for a few seconds; the past several hours seemed so surreal. Taking a deep breath at last, he flipped it open to press a one-digit code and hold the phone up to his ear as he waited for it to ring. "Lindsey?" he said as his friend answered the phone after a couple of rings; as he looked at the phone's display, he realized with a start that it was almost 3:00 a.m.
"Brian?" he heard her respond groggily. "Is that you?"
"Yeah, Lindsey, it's me." He could hear Melanie in the background accusing him of calling them in some drunken, post-Babylon stupor, but for once he refused to rise to the bait; his son was the focus of why he was calling, and they didn't have time for petty differences. "I need to talk to you." There was no easy way to say this, so he simply plowed forward. "It's about Gus."
Instantly he could hear the sleepiness disappearing from Lindsey's voice to be replaced by worry. "Gus? What about him?" He could hear Mel in the background once more asking what was going on, and the sound of what appeared to be Lindsey hushing her so she could hear. "Brian?"
The brunet sighed. "You need to come home. He's at the Children's Hospital. He's just been diagnosed with bacterial meningitis and is in the ICU."
He heard Lindsey gasp and her muffled voice undoubtedly speaking to Mel as she quickly came back onto the phone. "Meningitis? How did this happen? He seemed fine when we left."
Don't even go there, Brian thought with disgust. If either Lindsey or Mel even hinted at him doing something wrong where his son was concerned, they could both go to hell. "I don't know," he tried to answer as honestly as he could. "He and I were having pizza and watching movies last night, and he was fine when we went to bed. He woke me back up around midnight with a fever, neck ache and vomiting. I gave him some Tylenol and rushed him here to the hospital where they did some tests and found out that's what he has."
"Are you sure that's how it happened?" he suddenly heard Mel say into the phone; obviously both women were listening now.
Brian was in no mood for the woman's accusatory tone. "Yes, I'm sure," he said defensively. "If you don't believe me, you can just fuck off! I didn't do a damn thing to him! You honestly think I don't know how to take care of my own son? Shit!" he muttered in disbelief. "I can't believe you! Just get up here, okay? There's no time for this bullshit! This is fucking serious!"
He could hear Lindsey trying desperately to calm her partner down before she said, "We'll be on the next flight out, Brian. Just how serious is it?"
Brian took a deep breath and let it out, not relishing wanting to repeat what the doctor had said but knowing he must. "Lindsey…..it could, it could possibly be…the doctor's said there's a 15% chance that he could…..just hurry, okay?" That was all he could manage to utter without choking up. He couldn't believe they were talking about Gus. He desperately hoped this was all just some bad, horrible dream, but he knew it wasn't.
"Oh, my God!" she cried out as she turned to Mel in agony, anguish written all over her face as she went pale. She turned back to the phone just long enough to say, "We're on our way," and get Brian's assurance that he would give Gus their love before she abruptly disconnected the phone to start making immediate plans to return home.
Brian closed his eyes as the weariness and worry threatened to overtake him; he had never felt as alone as he did at that moment as he placed his hands on his thighs and tried to gather his strength; finally, he slowly rose once more to his feet and walked over to the door to return to his son's room. He knew it was going to be a long 48 hours, but he was prepared to remain at his son's bedside until he got better, and his son would recover. He refused to consider any other possibility.
As he returned, he noticed the young female doctor standing next to his son's bedside; the constant beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor dominated the room. While the need for it terrified him, the regular rhythm of the machine also reassured him that his son's heart was beating steadily.
"How is he?" he whispered to Daphne as he quietly walked in. He looked at his son who seemed so small and frail lying there. He had been transferred from the gurney now to a regular hospital bed which made him appear even tinier than he had before; his small, lanky body was practically dwarfed by the mattress.
"His temperature has gone down just a bit," she reported softly as Brian came to stand by the bedrail and take his son's sweaty hand. He felt comforted somewhat by the familiar touch of his child's miniature, perfect little hand but it felt warmer than it should, no doubt due to his fever.
"What is it?" he asked, glancing over at the young woman.
Last time it was checked about ten minutes ago it was at 101.8," she told him. "I know it's a small difference," she acknowledged, "but at least it is a decrease; that's good. And they've started his antibiotics and IV; all of that should help him fight off the disease. They'll also keep the lights dimmed in his room, because bright light can bother a patient while they're recovering."
"But will it be enough?" Brian wondered, staring down at Gus' face, so seemingly worry-free in his unconscious state. "Why isn't he awake?" he asked.
"The meningitis makes you lethargic along with the fever," she told him. "Once the fever goes down and the antibiotics start to take effect, we're hopeful he'll start responding to them and wake up."
"You're hopeful?" he repeated.
She turned to stare into Brian's eyes. "No one can predict what will happen 100 percent of the time, Mr. Kinney," she told him regretfully. "But I think you brought him in while he was in the early stages of it, so that definitely gives him an advantage. We just have to hope that he'll recover without any lasting side effects."
Brian frowned; he had been so worried about Gus even surviving the initial illness that he hadn't even considered if there might be any residual effects from it. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What kind of side effects?"
Daphne hesitated; torn between wanting to be straightforward with Brian and not wanting to unnecessarily alarm him. "Well, sometimes when the patient recovers there are still issues that need to be dealt with."
"Doctor…..Just be fucking straight with me, okay?" he asked just a little more curtly than he had intended; he was tired, though, of everyone dodging his questions. "What sort of issues?"
She sighed. "Okay…depending upon their recovery time, the severity of the disease itself and other factors, sometimes the patient can suffer afterward from other problems such as brain damage, hearing loss, or learning disabilities."
Brian's face went white at her disclosure. "My God….."
"But that is in the most severe cases," she hastened to add, noticing Brian's reaction. "Your son's case was caught early. Hopefully none of that will happen."
Brian's eyes glistened as he bit his lip and stared at his beautiful, sweet son, the child he never envisioned he would ever have but now couldn't imagine ever being without. Even if Gus survived, would he still be the same boisterous, full-of-life child he had always been? Would he still run around his loft at breakneck speed, giggling as his father caught up with him and threw him on his shoulders for a ride? Would he still hug his neck at night and whisper to him, "I love you, Daddy," and cause his heart to explode with joy and love for him like it always did?
He held on even tighter to the listless hand as he leaned over and gave his son a kiss on his sweat-soaked forehead. "Daddy's here, Sonny Boy," he whispered. "You're going to be just fine, Buddy. You hear me? You need to get all better so I can take you to the circus and the zoo like we planned, okay?" He reached over with his free hand and gently wiped the hair back from his son's bangs, silently beseeching his son to wake up, but he remained still and silent like a sleeping, cherubic statue.
Despite having a relative stranger standing next to him, he couldn't help adding softly, "I love you, Gus. Daddy loves you so much." At the moment, he didn't care who heard him – it was the truth. He loved this child more than life itself, and if love was enough to heal him he knew he could recover fully from this horrible disease.
He and Daphne both glanced up as they heard someone entering the room and saw Dr. Broderick returning, along with the nurse who had first brought Gus back into the room. The doctor nodded over toward the older blond woman and told Brian, "This is the charge nurse, Carol Watson. She'll be in charge of watching over your son for the night until shift change. She'll be checking his vitals regularly and seeing that his IV is changed as needed and the antibiotics are administered properly. I have to do some rounds, but I will be on call if something comes up. There's also an ER doctor here in case of any emergency."
Brian nodded, glad that a nurse would be constantly available for his son; it reassured him but also frightened him, because if the doctor felt around-the-clock care was needed, his son was, indeed, in a very serious situation. "Thank you, Doctor," he told the man as he nodded over at the nurse, who smiled slightly in acknowledgement.
"I assume you'll be staying with your son?"
Brian nodded. "Yeah…I did reach his mother – she's on her way up here – she's out of state currently." He suddenly realized something. "I forgot to ask her about the mumps," he said.
The doctor shook his head. "That's okay – it's unnecessary now that we have a definitive diagnosis." He turned toward the nurse. "I'll have Carol get an orderly to bring in a chair that converts into a small bed so you can stay with your son, and some extra pillows and blankets."
Carol nodded toward Brian. "I'll take care of it," she said, turning to leave. "I'll be right back," she promised Brian before she left.
"Dr. Chanders and I have to resume our rounds," he told Brian. "I'll be here immediately if the need warrants. For now, we're doing all we can for your son. The next 48 hours are critical – the rest is up to him."
Brian nodded, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. "He's a hardy little boy," he whispered in a choked voice. "He's going to pull through this."
The doctor nodded. "That's good that's he's a fighter," he said, smiling slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be back later."
Brian watched both doctors go as he turned around once more to stare at his son. He pulled the half-draped, white hospital-issue cotton blanket back from his son's chest and pulled the lightweight hospital gown together to close it. He didn't know with his son's fever whether to keep him covered or not, but it made sense to him that if his temperature was elevated, it was best to keep him cool.
Speaking of which, he noticed the cooling blanket still under his son's slight body; he felt the pad and noticed it wasn't very damp anymore. Irritated that it hadn't been changed yet, he vowed to get a new one as soon as the nurse returned.
He heard the door banging slightly as it swung open once more and he looked to observe the same, blond-haired orderly as before dragging a beige-colored, vinyl chair into the room, along with a pillow and blanket. He also had some sort of plastic bag on top of the bedding, which was lying in the chair's seat.
Justin had planned on leaving right after 2 a.m. when his co-worker's shift was scheduled to be over, but he had found himself worrying about the adorable, brown-haired boy who had been brought in and was so seriously ill down in the ER that he had decided to stick around at least long enough to find out how he was. He had run into the charge nurse near the supply room a few minutes ago and in the course of asking about the little boy, he had found out the father needed some items brought to the room. He had volunteered for his final activity of the night to bring the chair, bedding, and a replacement cooling pad to Gus' room – something for which the short-staffed nurse had readily agreed to.
As he entered the room, he saw Gus' father standing over his son's bed, his hand clutching the little boy's. The man turned as he came in and Justin noticed how tired and drawn he looked. Still, Justin decided he was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, and his pulse couldn't help speeding up a bit as a result. He suddenly found himself feeling downright shy in the sight of such a handsome man and fought to keep from blushing as the man stared back at him curiously.
"I….I brought a convertible chair for you to sleep in," he explained to Brian, even though he thought that was rather obvious. "I'll put it next to the bed."
Brian recognized the orderly instantly as the same one that had given his son a sponge bath so tenderly before and had provided a cooling pad to help lower his son's fever. "That's fine," he told Justin rather absentmindedly, still worried for his son's health. Even in such dire circumstances, though, he still couldn't help noticing the other man's perfectly-proportioned features, from his mop of somewhat unruly hair, to his long, lush eyelashes, button nose, full lips, and slim body that was curved but also trim in all the right places. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by this other man and would have pursued him doggedly. At the moment, though, all he could do was focus on his son.
He didn't even notice the orderly had remained in the room until he heard a soft voice saying, "I brought a new cooling pad for him. I thought it might need to be replaced."
Brian turned to stare into the intense blue eyes of the man now standing near him. He was even more beautiful up close, he decided, impressed that this man had been thoughtful enough to think of bringing in a new pad for his son without being asked. "Thanks," he told Justin softly. "I'll lift him up again if you can slide it under him."
Justin nodded, fascinated by the way the man's lips moved and the hazel eyes that were so unique – they seemed to change shades at a moment's notice and left him constantly guessing just what color they were. He waited until Brian had grasped his son's body and lifted him up slightly before he slid the drying pad out from underneath and smoothly replaced it with a fresh one.
He watched, fascinated, as the man gently lowered his son back to the mattress before he straightened out his son's hospital gown and once more grasped Gus' hand as he sat down now on the chair that Justin had retrieved.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked the brunet, kind of hoping that there was so he would have an excuse to stay.
Brian sighed as he stared into his son's face. "How about a full recovery for my son?" he asked softly, never taking his gaze away from Gus.
"I wish I could," Justin replied sincerely. "But I'll certainly be hoping for one for him." Brian simply nodded silently before Justin advised him, "My shift's over for tonight so I'll be leaving. I'll be back tomorrow and I'll make sure to check on him then."
Brian turned his gaze away from his son to acknowledge what Justin had said. "I'll be here," he told Justin. "I'm not going anywhere."
Justin nodded, impressed with the other man's devotion. "Good night, then."
Brian nodded. "Good night; thanks," he added softly as an afterthought.
The side of Justin's mouth twisted up sympathetically as he smiled slightly and said, "You're welcome," before he somewhat reluctantly turned and left the room.
Fifteen minutes later, he was once more dressed in his old, familiar Chinos and a comfortable, sky-blue colored tee shirt and was about to head toward the employee's exit door when he spotted someone familiar walking out of a nearby women's restroom. "Daphne!" he called out softly, using her first name in the relatively empty hallway.
His friend turned and smiled at him in recognition. "Hey, Justin! You're still here?" she asked as she walked up to him.
He nodded. "I was just leaving," he verified. "I wanted to stick around to see how the new admission was doing – Gus. How is he – really?" he asked, anxious to hear his friend's opinion.
"Well, his fever has gone down a little since he was brought in," she reported as she placed one hand on the small of her back and blew out some air through her lips in tiredness. "And it appears his father brought him in as soon as he realized there was a problem." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Justin…..I'm hoping he's going to recover completely, but with meningitis you never know. It's a real quirky disease. It's really more of a wait-and-see game. Even with the IV fluids and antibiotics, you never really know how it's going to turn out. I've seen it go both ways."
Justin bit his lip, sorry to hear that she didn't have a more definite prognosis. "When do you think you'll know for sure if he's out of the woods or not?"
She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Probably at least not for another 48 hours or so…depends upon how well he responds to treatment."
Justin sighed. "I hope he'll be all right – he's a beautiful little boy." And the father's pretty damn incredible, too, he couldn't help thinking, but he knew practically nothing about Brian Kinney. He was just being downright ridiculous even thinking that way and besides, the man had much more important matters on his mind right now. He had found it interesting, though, that there didn't seem to be a mother in the picture.
"Yeah – me, too," Daphne told him. "Well, you go get some sleep for both of us, okay?" she joked. "I'm here until six again."
Justin shook his head. "I still don't know how you do it," he told her. "How do they expect you to even keep your eyes open, much less actually treat a patient?" He smiled at her. "Remind me never to get sick and require overnight hospitalization, okay?"
She grinned. "I'll do my best." She glanced at her watch. "Dr. Broderick's probably looking for me by now – I'd better get going. Are we still on for pizza later?"
"I'm always on for that," Justin told her, smiling. "You know me."
She laughed. "Yeah," she agreed. "Silly question. I'll meet you at Sorrento's later, then."
"Okay," Justin told her as she turned to go. "You'll check in on the little boy later?"
She twisted her mouth fondly at her new friend, who was always getting so wrapped up in the patient's welfare. She knew how hard it was to separate your feelings here, especially when children were involved, but she had slowly been able to do it for the sake of maintaining her detached professionalism. She suspected, however, that Justin would never be able to do it, though, at least not completely – he was just too compassionate and wore his heart on his sleeve too much. "Yeah, I will," she promised, just before she turned and rushed away.
As Justin headed out the door into the unexpectedly chilly, cloudless night, his thoughts were preoccupied by a vulnerable, helpless little boy down in the ICU and the boy's father who was standing such watchful vigil over him. Please let him be okay, Justin thought, as he walked toward the bus stop to wait for his ride home.