A/N - Thanks everyone for the reviews! It's nice to know people are reading and enjoying it, and that keeps me going. So, here is the next chapter!

Disclaimer - I don't own anything.

"Let's get him to the couch," Alan stated, carefully supporting Charlie as Don released his grip. Don hurried over to the couch and moved a few things off of it, then helped his father set Charlie down on it.

"Hey, buddy? What's goin' on?" Don asked, crouching down as Alan went off to get a blanket. Charlie was still visibly shaking. Frowning, Don studied his little brother's face. Charlie's eyes were closed and both his hands were clasped into tight fists, in what Don suspected was an effort to keep off the shivers. Don's stomach churned with the thought that he could have helped to prevent his little brother's current ills, had he not been so caught up in the paper work. Some older brother he was.

"Charlie, you all right?" Don quietly asked again, this time patting Charlie on the shin lightly to get a response. Charlie stopped shivering slightly and cracked his eyes open. His eyes locked with Don's, then Charlie blinked and looked around.

"How'd...how'd I get here?" Charlie asked, confusion evident in his voice. Charlie licked his lips, his throat suddenly coarse. Before Don responded, Charlie huddled closer in on himself, hugging his arms around his knees and resting his forehead on his legs.

"We need to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch the flu, Charlie." Alan reminded the two as he came up with a blanket.

"Yeah, I can go grab something of his from up stairs..." Don started, but was cut off by an indignant Charlie.

"I can do that! I'm fully capable of changing my own clothes, thank you." Charlie grumbled, and sprang up from the couch. Thanks to Don's quick reflexes, he was up and able to prevent himself and his brother from toppling to the floor. Don had a hand on either side of Charlie's shoulders, and looked into his eyes as he spoke.

"Charlie, buddy, I know you're completely capable of changing your own clothes, but let me at least help you up stairs. Okay?" Don asked, hoping Charlie would agree. Or else Charlie wasn't going upstairs.

Charlie squinted at Don, glanced towards the stairs, and looked back at his brother. Charlie shrugged and sighed, lowering his head as he turned towards the stairs.

"Glad you see things my way." Don said, grinning as he and Charlie headed towards the stairs. More than once, Charlie had fallen back into his big brother, but had insisted Don not help him, and let Charlie get back on his own feet without help. It had taken about fifteen minutes and a few 'encouraging' words from Don, but finally they made it up.

Charlie went into his room and immediately sat down on the bed, looking a lot worse than he had down on the couch. Don watched as Charlie closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Silently, Don walked over to Charlie's wardrobe and pulled out a shirt with light, breathable material, and a comfortable pair of pants. Don tapped Charlie on the shoulder and pointed next to him, where Don had put the things on his bed.

"I'll be outside if you need me," Don said softly, smiled and walked out, closing the door after him with a soft click. Charlie stared at the closed door for a few minutes, and then slowly set about to his task, thankful his shirt was a button-up.

Sometime later, Don wasn't really keeping track, he heard a soft rap on the door behind him. He turned and slowly opened it to find Charlie there in his new set of clothes, staring at the floor.

"You didn't have to knock. You could have just opened it." Don pointed out, smiling slightly. "Feel better?"

"I know...didn't want to startle you." Charlie said, and paused. He merely responded "Yeah," to Don's question, accompanying it with a weak smile in hopes to convince Don he really was feeling better. Don saw right through the act.

"Charlie, we can stay up here. I'll ask dad to make some warm, home-made chicken soup while you get some rest. I'll wake you up when it's done. How's that sound?" Don asked, deciding it would not be good for Charlie to brave the stairs again just yet.

"Sure; I mean, yeah, if dad's all right with it..." Charlie muttered in response, briefly glancing up at Don.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is. You know dad loves cooking for us. I'll go check with him now, why don't you get settled in bed and I'll be up again soon?" Don suggested, and watched as Charlie nodded and retreated back into his room and climbed in bed. After Don was sure Charlie would be okay, he went downstairs to check with their father.

"How's Charlie doing?" Alan asked, once Don had entered the kitchen.

"Not so good. I think he's either already sick, or well on the way." Don said, leaning against the counter as he watched his father.

"Really? I should get out the thermometer, then, shouldn't I?" Alan said, turning to search through a few draws until he found it.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea." Don mumbled, moving aside to allow Alan to pass. "I'll get started on a soup."

"I'll be back in a few minutes to salvage what's left, okay? Just try not to catch anything on fire until I'm done with your brother." Alan commented with a straight face as he passed Don and left the kitchen.

"Hey, that's Charlie's way of cooking, not mine!" Don responded, but Alan was already gone.

By the time Alan had re-entered the kitchen area, Don had a pot of something simmering on the stove. Alan walked up next to him and sniffed the air.

"Hm, smells good. What is it?"

"Soup." Don responded, quite plainly. Alan merely laughed and went over to the sink to rinse the thermometer off. Then Alan stopped and turned to Don.

"You were right, Donnie."

"About what?" Don asked, looking up from stirring the so-called soup.

"Charlie has a fever. 99.8, to be exact." Alan told him, turning back to dry off and help his son with the soup, but left the thermometer out.

"99.8, that's not too bad." Don said with a shrug, willfully letting his father take over the cooking duties.

"Let's just hope it doesn't get any higher." Alan said, then busied himself with adding the proper ingredients to the soup. About fifteen minutes later, Alan sent Don upstairs to ask Charlie if he was hungry and ready to eat. As Don ascended the stairs, he wondered if Charlie would still be mad at him. He would have to talk to dad later about his idea, and even if Charlie was cool with him now, Don would still go through with it. It would be a nice surprise.

Don stopped in front of his little brother's door, knocked once and quietly pushed it open. Don bit back a laugh at the scene before him. Charlie was fast asleep. Part of Charlie's head and one hand that was still clutching a pen hung over the bed and a notebook lay open on the floor just beneath, while the rest of him was sprawled out diagonally across the bed.

Don silently strode over to his brother's side, gently eased the pen from his grasp and grabbed the notebook, putting both down on the nightstand. Then he carefully turned Charlie so that the whole of him was easily on the bed, and not at an angle. Charlie made a noise that Don couldn't quite decipher as Don moved him, but otherwise he showed no signs of waking. When Don's fingers brushed against Charlie's forehead, he paused. Should his skin really be that hot? He was lying in bed under the covers, but still...his fever might have gone up. Charlie shuddered under the cool touch of his brother's hand and tried to pull away, immediately curling up on his side, while at the same time pulling at the covers. It looked like he was cold.

"Hold tight for just a minute, buddy, I'll be right back to check your temp." Don murmured, to himself more than anything as he stood and left the room. He doubted Charlie had even known Don was there.

"What'd he say?" Alan asked, watching as his eldest went past him, in search of something it looked like.

"He was asleep." Don paused, glanced at his dad, then scanned the counters. "Just a crazy thought, but I thought we should check his temp again...dad, where'd you put oh, there it is." Don mumbled to himself, reached over to grab the object he'd been searching for, and left the room without receiving a response from his father. Alan had doubted he'd expected one, and shrugged to himself as he went about spooning up soup portions for himself and Don.

Only a few minutes later Don came back downstairs, and Alan could see the slightly worried look in his eyes.

"Hey, dad, what did you say Charlie's temp was the last time you took it?" Don asked, thermometer still in hand as he stopped in the doorway.

"99.7; why? Has it gone up?" Alan asked, now worried himself.

"Yeah, it did. 100.4."

"Oh, hm...did you ask him if he wants a wet washcloth, or fluffed pillows, a fan maybe...?"

"Dad, I don't think there's much we can do for him right now. He was still pretty out of it when I took his temp; I doubt he could give us reasonable answers. Let's eat first, then worry about Chuck." Don suggested, washed off the thermometer and put it back on the counter, then turned towards the steaming bowls of soup and grinned.

"Smells good."

"Why yes, it does smell a lot better than what you were cooking before, doesn't it?" Alan asked, grabbing his bowl as he high-tailed it out to the dining room area. Don reluctantly followed him.

"Aw, come on, I'm not THAT bad a cook! ... Am I?" Don asked, sitting next to Alan. The only response he got was a laugh.