5:00 a.m. – Gus' Room

"Mr. Kinney?" Brian came awake with a start as he lifted his head from the side of his son's hospital bed; he hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep for a few minutes until someone had called his name, and the knowledge of that fact filled him with guilt that he might have neglected his son. He immediately gazed over at his child, his heart yearning to see hopes of a change in his condition, but Gus remained as still as before. He thought perhaps his son's color looked a little more normal, but in the dim lighting they were maintaining in his room he couldn't be sure. His son was now wearing a paper mask over his mouth and nose - a precautionary measure to help keep his disease from spreading.

He turned to see who had called out to him, and noticed an unfamiliar, gray-haired nurse standing just inside the door, a clipboard in her hand as she glanced down at some information in his son's chart.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I need to examine your son and record some information," she said politely.

"Go ahead," Brian told her. "But I'm staying right here."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment as she sized up the tired-looking but handsome man's determined face before deciding he wasn't going to budge. Walking over to the other side of the patient's bed, she nodded at Brian curtly before leafing through some paperwork again.

Brian waited a few seconds before he couldn't stand it any longer. "Has there been any change?" he asked somewhat impatiently; this nurse's businesslike demeanor made him bristle somewhat. It was almost as if she were examining a piece of meat rather than a small, seriously ill child.

To her credit, though, the nurse seemed to soften a little as she realized how brusque she was appearing. Cathy McDonald had been a nurse here at the Children's Hospital for almost 25 years now, and in that time had seen her share of heartache and tragedy; being detached from it was sometimes the only way she could cope with the pain. But as she looked into the worried eyes of this child's father, she could tell his love for the little boy ran deep and it made her realize how she might have sounded.

She looked directly then into Brian's eyes as she replied softly, "The last temperature recorded for him was down a little bit more from the previous reading – it's under 100 now – 99.8. That's somewhat encouraging," she told him. "And his condition hasn't worsened. Sometimes that alone is a good sign when it comes to meningitis." She studied the man's face sympathetically, noticing he seemed to relax slightly at her words. "This disease takes some time to recover from, Mr. Kinney. But it would be best for the doctor to speak to you about that." She took one more look at the clipboard. "The doctor did ask you about where your son went to school, didn't he? It's important that anyone he's been in contact with be made aware of his condition so any others that were exposed can be protected and treated if necessary."

Brian nodded. "Yes – he's already notified my son's daycare. And I've given him as much information that I can about his contacts lately."

She glanced over at the sleeping boy. "I'd say he's holding his own, Mr. Kinney, but like I said, the doctor should be in soon and can answer any specific questions you might have." She reached over to straighten up Gus' slight body in the bed; during the night he had managed to slide somewhat off the pillow. She reached up to replace the IV drip with a fresh bag and checked the port for his wrist before gently placing his tiny hand back down onto the bed. "Anything I can get you until then, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian shook his head, trying to clear the grogginess from his brain; he had slept perhaps a total of an hour in the past twenty-four hours and was exhausted. He wasn't leaving his son's bed, however, until he knew he was going to be all right. Mel and Lindsey would undoubtedly be here any time; that might perhaps give him a chance to at least grab a quick shower and a change of clothes. Until then, however, he was going to remain planted by his son's side.

"Only my son's health," he finally answered her, gazing over at his son and reaching out to tenderly wipe some of Gus' hair back from his forehead. He did notice that his son did not appear to be sweating as much as he had been last night, and he did believe his color was better. He held desperately onto those two facts as he silently willed his son to get better.

The woman studied the weary, slightly stooped form of the larger carbon copy of her patient before saying, "We'll do the best we can, Mr. Kinney. If you or your son needs anything, just page the nurses' station, okay? The doctor will be in shortly."

Brian nodded silently as the woman quietly walked out, leaving him alone once more with his thoughts as he gazed at his son. He leaned over the bed and reached through the metal bars of the railing to clasp his son's hand; it was soft and warm – a little too warm. But at least it felt a little cooler than before. "Daddy's right here, Sonny Boy." He cleared his throat and sniffled before continuing. "You have to get better soon, Gus. Your old man's planning on taking you to a ball game. And we'll get there early so you can get all kinds of autographs. I've even got a new Pirates hat for you, Buddy. And a jersey. You get all better and I'll let you eat all the hot dogs there that you want." Even if it IS with mayonnaise and mustard on it. Brian had always thought that was an extremely odd combination of condiments to put on a hot dog, but right now he he couldn't think of anything more appetizing...

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat before he could continue. "But Daddy has to get you out of here first. That means you have to work on getting better, okay? You have to work hard and do whatever the doctor tells you so we can get go to the ballgame. Do you hear me, Gus?" He asked softly. "Can't you wake up for Daddy…..please?" He angrily wiped a stray tear from his eye with the sleeve of his shirt, disgusted with his show of weakness; he knew crying wouldn't help his son get better. Please, Buddy…..wake up…..Please…..

"Brian!" He quickly wiped his eye one more time before he turned as he heard Lindsey's voice from the hallway. She rushed in with Mel quickly on her heels to walk over to the opposite side of their son's bed. "My God," she whispered, as she noticed her son's flushed, sweaty face, the machine keeping watch over his vital signs and the IV fluids being pumped into him. "Gus," she whispered. "It's Mommy and Mama – we're here, baby. Can you hear us?" She reached over to brush her hand against his cheek, noticing how warm his skin was. "How is he? Has there been any change?" she asked Brian softly as she continued to gaze at her son.

"The nurse was just in," he whispered. "She told me his fever is finally under a hundred, but other than that there really hasn't been much change. But she did say his hasn't gotten any worse, so I guess that's something."

"Where's the doctor?" Mel asked curtly. "Our son is seriously ill and he's out doing rounds?"

Brian sighed. "The nurse was just here and has been in and out frequently; the doctor is supposed to be here any minute, and there's an ER doctor on the floor just in case."

The brunette woman huffed. "Well, I'm going to go find out where he is – I want to know what's going on." She turned abruptly to rush out of the room to search for the physician, leaving Lindsey and Brian alone.

The blonde raised her eyes to peer into her friend's, noticing the haunted, tired looks in his eyes. "You look like hell….have you had any sleep since you brought him in last night?"

"What do you think?" he snapped just a little too harshly. "How can I sleep when our son could die?" His voice cracked on the last word; somehow saying it out loud seemed to make it that much more real; before it had remained just under the surface, out of the realm of possibility, but he had to face facts. Their son had an illness that could be fatal – this wasn't a game or some soap opera – this was the real, horrible deal.

Lindsey didn't take offense at her friend's tone; she knew how much he had to be hurting over Gus' condition. Despite her initial skepticism over how involved Brian would want to be with his son once he had been born, he had surprised her by the depth of his feelings for their little boy and his love for him. He had become a surprisingly tender and caring father in his own warped way, and had even taken an active role in making sure they saw each other regularly. He and Gus had a standing date every other weekend to do something, whether it was playing at the nearby park, going to the pizza place, or taking in a ball game. Gus had repaid his father's love and attention by worshipping the ground his father walked on. To Gus, Brian could do no wrong – he was larger than life and a wonderful father. She instinctively knew, then, that he couldn't have had anything to do with the life or death situation their son was currently battling.

"How does the doctor think he got this?" she asked curiously, as she reached over to take her son's other hand in hers. "I don't understand. He seemed fine when we left yesterday."

Brian gazed into their son's angelic-looking face; his dark eyelashes were draped over his closed eyes and through the mask you could see small puffs of breath going in and out; his gaze roamed downward to watch the tiny chest rise and fall rhythmically. His own heart beat in anxiety at each beep of the machine; would it continue to register their son's regular breathing? Of would there come a time soon when his breathing would become labored and erratic? He forced that thought out of his mind as he looked over at Lindsey and answered, "He was okay with me until we went to bed, and it was like a fucking light turned off or something; he woke me up around midnight complaining that he felt sick to his stomach and his neck hurt. The next minute I had him in the bathroom and he threw up. It all happened so fast, Lindsey," he whispered painfully. "So fucking fast." He stared into her eyes. "I didn't do anything – you know I would never do anything to hurt him."

She nodded. "I know you wouldn't," she assured him. "We did a little research on meningitis on the way up here. I know you didn't have anything to do with it, Brian, and so does Mel."

"But you still had to check to make sure?" he growled in disbelief.

"No, I didn't mean that!" she assured him. "We were just trying to understand what he's up against, that's all."

Brian huffed softly, only partly mollified. "Well, I'm sure if she could have blamed me, she would have, though."

"Brian…..Let's not go down that route right now, okay? It's not important right now." She knew that Brian and her partner would never see eye to eye over anything, but for now they needed to band together for Gus' sake.

Brian looked over at their son and finally nodded. "I agree….he's what's most important. We need to focus on that."

The constant beeping of the monitor was the only sound heard for several seconds as Lindsey gazed at her son's still form and felt her eyes glistening with tears. "Brian….if anything happens to him…"

The brunet's eyes flashed with irritation. "Don't go there, Lindsey! He's going to be fine, do you hear me?" His friend remained silent, except for a couple of sniffles. "Do you hear me, Lindsey?" he repeated more firmly. He was not even going to contemplate the alternative; life without his son was not an option any more.

She lifted her gaze to stare into her friend's determined eyes. "Yes," she finally whispered, nodding, as she reached up to wipe some tears from her cheek. She knew Brian was right – they had to remain positive and hopeful that everything would turn out all right. But inside her heart was aching with worry for their son.

Their attention was drawn to the door as Mel returned. She had made good on her vow and had the same doctor as last night following her into the room. "Doctor, this is my partner, Lindsey Peterson. We're Gus' parents."

The older doctor lifted an eyebrow momentarily at the unusual parenting arrangement but in his twenty-plus years as an infectious disease specialist he had run into all sorts of situations so this one barely rated a short register of surprise; besides, the small boy who was gravely ill and lying in the nearby hospital bed was of the most concern to him at the moment. "My name is Dr. Broderick," he told Lindsey, nodding politely as he peered out from under his wire-rimmed glasses. "Mr. Kinney and I met last night when he brought his son in."

She and Brian nodded in acknowledgment as Mel came over to sit next to her and take her free hand to offer comfort and support; she gratefully grasped it tightly as they looked expectantly at the middle-aged doctor.

The doctor flipped the metal chart holder open and leafed through several pieces of paper representing Gus' diagnostic results and hourly vitals. He quickly scanned over several lines before he closed it softly and glanced up into three pairs of worried eyes peering back at him anxiously.

"Well, he hasn't deteriorated since he was brought in," the doctor told them. "His fever has decreased slightly and he continues to breathe on his own without any labor. We administered a dose of Dexamethasone to your son prior to beginning his antibiotic regimen to lessen any ill effects the medication may have on his system."

"Dexamethasone…?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes – it's a corticosteroid – there's been evidence that usage of it can help decrease the odds of mortality as well as deafness in children with Gus' type of meningitis; it has to be administered, though, prior to the antibiotics, which were started immediately after getting your son's test results back. We will continue with the corticosteroid for the next few days; the antibiotics likely will be needed for at least two weeks through an IV drip."

"Wait a minute, doctor," Brian said, confused. "You said deafness? What the fuck are you talking about?"

The doctor let out a breath before speaking, never relishing having to deliver the somewhat disturbing news about the residual effects of this disease. "In some severe cases of bacterial meningitis, the patient can develop partial deafness as a result of the disease. There is also the possibility of epileptic convulsions and some development difficulties such as cognitive or motor skill deficits. Blindness can also be a result."

The two women gasped as Brian's heart dropped in alarm. Blindness…..deafness….cognitive difficulties…convulsions….. "How…..how likely is that, Doctor?" he whispered just barely loud enough to be heard. He couldn't believe this was his son they were talking about; his normally effervescent, devil-may-care son who was presently lying so still and weak.

"Some hearing loss normally occurs in about half of all children's cases; blindness about 10 percent of the time. The other aftereffects are a little less likely. The fact that you brought your son in as soon as you noticed the symptoms is a very promising sign as well. The earlier treatment begins, the better a patient's chances are. All of that are pluses in your son's favor."

"My God," Melanie murmured as she squeezed Lindsey's hand tighter. "Gus…." She whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she glanced over at their little boy. "Is there anything else that can be done for him, Doctor? Any specialists we can bring in?"

"I'll pay for any treatment Gus needs," Brian immediately told him.

The doctor shook his head. "Believe me – he will be getting state-of-the-art care here; I am putting my associate, Dr. Chanders, in charge of the case when I am not around to make sure she is providing me with hour-by-hour updates. He will be getting around-the-clock care, I can assure you." He glanced over at Gus' vitals being displayed on the monitor before adding, "You will all need to be administered a one-dose antibiotic, also, as a strictly precautionary measure. And anyone else who may have had intimate contact with him as far as sharing utensils, bedding, or any other type of close contact will need it as well. Casual contact is normally not a risk factor for getting it. We have already notified your son's daycare school, but they have not indicated any other child has contracted the disease, so as of now we're at a loss as to who he contracted it from."

He glanced over at the two women to assure them, "Mr. Kinney did everything right with your little boy, Ladies. If he hadn't brought Gus in so quickly, the end result could have been a lot worse. A lot of parents initially mistake the symptoms for flu instead of acting upon them. He gave your son Acetaminophen and rushed him here. It probably saved his life, but time will tell."

He glanced at the clock over Gus' bed. "I have to go make some rounds. I will have my beeper with me if anything urgent comes up; in the meantime, my associate, Dr. Chanders, will be here soon. And the ICU nurse is on stand-by right across the hall at the nurses' station. Your son will be in good hands, trust me." He nodded at them politely. "I'll be back in later to check on him," he added before turning to rush out of the room, again bathing the space in silence except for the regular beeping of the monitoring machine near the bed.

Brian let out a worried breath as the doctor left; he had no idea their son could overcome his initial illness, only to possibly be subjected to such disastrous and life-altering after effects. He gazed down at his perfect, sweet little boy who was normally such a bundle of energy and he almost found it hard to accept it was actually his son. He bit his lip, determined not to begin bawling at the thought of what might happen to his little boy, but he was finding it extremely difficult to keep up his brave front in light of such sobering news.

"Brian," he heard Mel calling him softly from across the bed. He slowly raised his eyes to look into her's and Lindsey's as the woman said, "I…..I want to thank you for getting Gus here so quickly." She couldn't believe she was having to thank Brian for anything regarding their son, but she had to grudgingly admit – his prompt action probably did save their son's life, or at least provide him with a fighting chance. "We're grateful that you acted so fast and got him here so quickly."

Brian merely nodded; he couldn't spare much time worrying about what Melanie thought of him or his motives. He continued to hold onto Gus' hot hand as he slowly caressed the soft flesh with his thumb and silently encouraged his son to wake up. Please, Sonny Boy…..I need you…..I love you….

"Brian?" Lindsey whispered to him. "We'll stay with Gus. Why don't you go crash somewhere at least for a little while and try to get some sleep? You know we'll call you if anything happens."

Brian shook his head, stubbornly refusing to leave his son's bedside. The truth was, though, he was thoroughly exhausted and dead on his feet. He could barely hold his eyes open and probably stunk to high heaven as well. He dearly craved a shower at least to help ward off the tiredness.

"Brian – please; you won't be any good to Gus if you can't stay awake. I promise – we'll call you the second anything happens, I promise."

Brian was torn between not wanting to leave his son and needing desperately to lie down, at least for a little while. "I…..I can't, Lindsey," he whispered finally. "What if something happens and I can't get back here before he, he…" He couldn't complete the sentence; the thought was just too painful to even contemplate. No, his son was going to be okay – he had gotten him here on time. And he was going to be fine….just fine. But he just couldn't leave him, not until he knew for sure that he would be all right. "No….I'm staying here," he announced firmly.

Lindsey and Mel exchanged worried glances, knowing that Brian was like a walking zombie at the moment, but they knew when he made up his mind he didn't back down. "Okay," Lindsey said to him with a tender smile. "But at least go get some coffee and take a short break, even if it's just down the hall to stretch your legs."

Brian let out a deep breath and twisted his neck in a vain effort to get the tight kinks out; his back and neck had gotten stiff as a board sitting in the uncomfortable, vinyl-covered convertible chair. Finally, with some reluctance he let go of Gus' hand and gently laid it down to stand up, reaching his hands high over his head and bending his torso backward to try and stretch. "Okay," he agreed. "But just for a couple of minutes. I'll be right back. You'll come get me if anything happens – if he wakes up – anything?"

Lindsey smiled softly at him. "Of course," she assured him. "Go on – we'll be right here."

Brian silently nodded as, with one last look at his son, he slowly plodded out of the room and stood in the hallway, checking to see which way to go to reach the first-floor vending machine room. Seeing a sign indicating where to go he turned to the right and lumbered down the overly-bright hallway; it seemed especially garish in light of coming out of Gus' purposely-dimmed room, sort of like walking out into bright sunshine after leaving a movie theater.

As he shuffled laboriously down the polished, tiled hallway, his exhausted, troubled mind was focused so intently on his son that he almost missed the door indicating the location of the vending machine room. Turning the knob to open it, his eyes widened as he yanked it open and ran headfirst into a blond, blue-eyed beauty coming out at the same time. He instantly recognized the man as the orderly who had so tenderly administered to his son last night after he had brought Gus in and his son had needed a way to get his temperature lowered.

Justin's face flushed as he came into physical contact with the same gorgeous man he had encountered last night; he almost fell just before the man reached out quickly and grabbed him by the upper arms to steady him. "Uh….I'm sorry – I didn't see you coming in," Justin breathlessly told him, feeling his pulse racing merely at the other man's touch.

Brian noticed he was still holding onto the blond orderly and released him with a slight shake of his head. "It's okay," he replied softly. The two men stood there for a few seconds as Brian gazed into the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen before stating, "You're the man from last night – the one that gave my son a sponge bath and changed the cooling pad."

Justin swallowed hard. Even obviously exhausted at spending the entire night in the hospital – and it was obvious by the man's appearance that he had – he was even more gorgeous up close and personal than he had been last night, if that was even possible. "Yeah…..," he finally managed to confirm. "You're Mr. Kinney, right?" Of course, Justin already knew that – he had made a point of remembering the man's name. Something told him this man would be unforgettable, if only the circumstances were better.

"Brian," the gorgeous man responded. "Mr. Kinney makes me feel like I'm a hundred years old. Although right now I feel that old." He didn't know why in the hell he had just admitted that – he didn't even know this...this orderly. Why would he care how he felt?

Justin's face blushed a little as he repeated dutifully, almost reverently, "Brian…" He gave the other man an awkward smile as he suddenly thought of the reason why the man was at the hospital. "How is your son?"

Brian brushed a hand through his hair restlessly as he said, "He's about the same. His fever's gone down some, though. And he hasn't gotten any worse."

Justin nodded. "Those are good signs. And you seemed to have gotten him here right away – that's important, too," he said encouragingly with a slight smile.

Brian nodded silently, studying the kind, compassionate-looking face; being so close to this younger man made him realize just how beautiful he was – long, golden lashes, shining blond hair, full lips, and those eyes. They were a shade between an azure-colored cloudless sky and a newborn baby blue. He shook his head and berated himself, realizing his thoughts were straying. "Uh…I have to get back to my son's room," he explained. "I just came down to grab some coffee while his mothers were staying with him."

Justin frowned. "Mothers?" he asked, knowing it was none of his business but too curious not to ask anyway.

Why was it necessary to explain to this man? Brian wondered, as he found himself nonetheless explaining anyway. "His biological mother and her partner. They're raising him for the most part – I see him regularly but he lives with them."

Justin nodded, feeling oddly satisfied and pleased with this disclosure. He knew this man was here for his son and nothing else, but that fact left him feeling almost relieved in a way. That could certainly explain why there hadn't been a mother here last night when Gus was brought into the emergency room.

Both men continued to stand there for a few seconds longer, a little uncomfortable in the silence, until Justin finally said, "I won't keep you, then." He turned to go with a slight smile before turning around and saying, "I hope your son recovers soon. I have a good feeling about him, Brian. I think he's a fighter."

Brian actually smiled at that statement a little, warmed that someone had the same confidence in his son that he did. "He is," he agreed. "Thanks," he added softly. "For believing in him and for helping to take care of him last night."

Justin nodded again and, with a slight smile of his own, turned and opened the door to leave. Brian stood there for a few seconds, thoughtfully watching the blond go, before he plunked in four quarters into the nearest coffee machine and retrieved a cup of lukewarm coffee before heading back toward his son's room.

A/N: Thanks to those readers who gave me some medical pointers for this story - I really appreciate that!:)