A/N: AHHH! I am SO SORRY this has taken so incredibly long, dur...I wonder if anyone is still reading/interested in this? 'Tis been so long, well over a year I think. Real life can get busy and all that. I am trying to finish this one up though. Please, if anyone thinks this is still worth continuing, please let me know.

Many thanks to Beth! You really did rather help me get this kick started again, though I still took my sweet 'ol time. Pff. Anyways.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing! Not even the soft drinks mentioned in this chapter. Nothing, I tell you!

Early the next morning, Don had already eaten, showered and changed, and so went in to check on Charlie at around 6 o'clock. To his surprise, he found his little brother sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. The covers were a mess behind him, and from here Don couldn't see Charlie's pillow.

"Charlie?" Don asked softly, upon entering the room. He could see Charlie's body tense, then slowly Charlie removed his hands from his face and looked at his brother.

"How're you feeling today, bro?" Don asked, kneeling at Charlie's side. Charlie blinked at him, started to shake his head, winced and stopped.

"Threw up last night," Charlie whispered with a grimace, one hand still over his stomach.

"Ah. Well, it's the first step to recovery. Anything I can help with? Do you want some water?" Don asked, rubbing his hand up and down Charlie's arm. Charlie slowly shook his head.

"No, but-" Charlie swallowed hard, and a look of pain flittered across his face. Don was alarmed for a moment, until he realized Charlie was probably trying hard not to throw up again.

"Call Larry...lecture for me. 4:30. Notes in, there." Charlie hurried to say, weakly lifting a hand to point in the direction of his school satchel. Don glanced at it and nodded.

"Sure thing, Charlie. I ll take care of it. Don t worry about anything, just focus on getting better. And be sure to ask dad if you need anything. Okay?" Don waited until Charlie nodded. Smiling, Don patted Charlie on the shoulder, stood up and went to the door.

"I'll see you later, buddy." And with that, Don was gone. Charlie waited a few minutes, until he heard Don's SUV start up, then hurried towards the bathroom.

About an hour later, Alan woke up, and went to check on his son. Charlie was laying on his back, an arm over his eyes. Alan tsked and shook his head, wondering what kind of night his youngest had had with his bed in the current condition. Besides that, upon entering, Alan noticed the pillow on the floor, a foot from the bed. Alan carefully, quietly, sat down next to Charlie and watched him breathing. He could tell Charlie wasn't asleep, but he wasn't exactly awake, either. Finally, Charlie moved his arm and blinked up at his father.

"You want something to drink, Charlie? Some Mountain Dew, Sprite, Mellow Yellow...?" Alan asked, smiling lightly down at Charlie. Charlie frowned and carefully shook his head.

Alan sighed, "You know you won t get better any sooner without drinking extra fluids. Isn't that what the doctor's always say?" Alan asked, not expecting an answer, as he reached up and moved some of the soaked curls off his son' forehead, which was still raidating hear. As expected, Charlie remained silent.

"I'll get you some Sprite." Alan finally said, patted Charlie's cheek, stood and left the room. A while later, Alan came back into the room to find Charlie hadn't changed positions in the slightest, and had his eyes closed. Alan could also tell that he still wasn't asleep. Alan set the cup half-full of Sprite next to the notebook on Charlie's nightstand, and sat next to him again.

"Would you like me to help you move downstairs? Maybe watch a little TV while you recover? The couch is always a good option when either you or Donnie were sick." Alan said, smiling at his own words. He received no response from Charlie. Alan leaned over him and put his hand against Charlie's forehead. Alan's brow furrowed. Alan quickly stood.

"I'll be right back, Charlie, I'm going to get the thermometer." Alan said, to himself, as he ran downstairs and came back up just as fast. Probably the fastest he'd moved in quite some time. Alan again took his seat by his son, but this time tried to get Charlie s head in his lap. Charlie's eyes cracked open and it was quite obvious to him that his son was not feeling good. His eyes were glazed over in his fever-induced state, which probably is what caused the next word to slip out of his youngest son s mouth.

"Mom?" Charlie weakly asked, grabbing for Alan's hand. Alan's heart clenched.

"No, son, it s me, your father. You seem to be doing worse this morning, so I'm taking your temp." Alan said, even though he highly doubted Charlie understood him. Alan put the thermometer in Charlie s mouth, waited for it to start, and pressed the button. Alan watched it carefully, as it skipped 99, sped past 100, and finally began to slow down mid-way through the 101's. 101.5...101.6...101.7...101.8...101.9...102.1.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

If Alan hadn't have raised his children better than that, he would have said a few colorful curse words at that moment. Charlie's fever was pretty high. He could be contagious, and therefore would not be going into work, nor out of the house anytime soon. Except if Alan decided to take him to a Walk-in Clinic, if he didn't start showing signs of getting better rather soon.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Alan glanced over the form of his son, and, reluctantly, got up to answer the door. It took Alan a few minutes to get to the door, but he smiled when he saw who it was.

"Larry!" A pause, "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong, it's always nice to see you, but isn't it a school day?"

"Hello, Mr. Eppes. Yes, yes it is a school day...that's why I m here, actually." Larry said, a small quaver in his voice.

"Oh, well, if it's Charlie you're looking for, he's a little under the weather today. I don't think he'll be coming in."

"Ah, yes, I'm aware that Charles was feeling unwell today. You're older son called me to inform me of that earlier this morning. He also said Charlie had some notes for the lecture that he was supposed to give later today. I, uhm, I came to pick them up." Larry said, tapping his fingers together as he awaited Mr. Eppes' response. Alan nodded and waved him in.

"All right, sure, that makes sense." Alan said, closing the door behind Larry. Larry watched the door close and briefly glanced about the house.

"I have to get going again soon, I have a class in not too long, but Agent Eppes said something about Charles saying the notes were in his bag...might you know where his bag is? Donald neglected to say..."

"Oh, I m sure it s around here somewhere," Alan glanced about the door and the living area, then looked upstairs. "Hm. Maybe it s in his room."

"I can go look, if that s all right." Larry suggested, but Alan was already climbing the stairs. Larry followed him. Alan entered his youngest's room, and after a short search, found the item in question.

"Ah, here it is." Alan picked up Charlie's bag and handed it to Larry. Larry didn't seem to notice.

"Larry?" Alan asked; the sound of his name snapped Larry out of his daze.

"Oh, hum? Yes, the bag, thank you." Larry muttered, taking the bag and doing a light search of the contents, but at once his gaze traveled back to the being on the bed.

"Mr. Eppes, just how bad is Charles illness...?" Larry asked, looking a little forlorn.

"It's not as bad as it may seem. At least, I hope not. His fever is pretty high, and if it gets any higher, I'll be taking him to a Clinic. But as of now, all he needs is some cold fluids. He's a hardy boy, he ll be back on his feet in no time."

Larry let out a grunt-laugh and smiled, "I have no doubt of that, Mr. Eppes. I just hope he isn t suffering too badly right now. He looks quite uncomfortable." Larry said softly, tilting his head as if to get a better view of Charlie.

"'at's cause...I'm sick, if you hadn't noticed." Charlie coughed and grumbled as he rolled over, making his poor colleague, and father, jump. "Please stop talking like I can't hear you." Charlie's ragged voice reminded them. Charlie did his best to glare, but he just didn t have the energy. It came out more as a lazy squint.

"Charles! I, uh, I apologize, truly... but I'm glad you are at least feeling well enough to speak." Larry said, hesitatingly glancing at his watch. Before Alan could say anything, Larry gave a start and moved towards the door.

"Oh, my, time has come and gone so quickly. I should be going before I am late for my class. I'll bring your bag back later, all right, Charles? I'll try very hard not to lose it." Larry mumbled, bowing slightly on his way out. Alan followed Larry out into the hallway, but by that time Larry was already heading down the stairs. Alan merely waved as one of their closet family friends hurriedly exited the house. As Alan re-entered Charlie's room, he said aloud,

"So, do you think you ll be seeing your bag again?"

"Not a chance." Charlie moaned, covering his face with his hands. "I'll have to do...those papers over, again." Alan heard Charlie's muffled voice further complain.

"Well then, let's try not to think about papers or work right now." Alan paused, then, "Are you sure you don't want to go downstairs?"

"I'm fine here," Charlie muttered, shifting to his side. It had taken a lot of energy from him to stay with it enough to converse with them, but he couldn't let his father know that. Charlie heard his father sigh, and presumed he had left the room. The next thing Charlie knew something cold and wet was being placed on his forehead; he furrowed his brows. Though he couldn't deny it felt good against his hot skin, he struggled against it. In his mind, he was back on those California sidewalks, walking through a nasty thunderstorm, completely alone. His father's voice, in an effort to soothe him, turned into rumbles of thunder. The lights in the room, his feverish mind was telling him, flashed above in the dark night sky.

Charlie stood in the midst of the imagined storm, whimpering slightly as his hands shook; he was scared and had no idea how he got here, how he was going to get home. Which direction was home in, anyway? He couldn't see anything! Charlie tried to move, but when nothing happened, he looked down to his feet and his eyes widened. He'd looked down to find that he was no longer on the sidewalk, but in the grass, and said grass was now turning into angry vines right before his eyes, vines that were wrapping themselves securly around his feet.

What the...?

Charlie's mind spun, trying to process this new piece of information and figure out what was going on; but for some reason, his mind would not cooperate. He felt panic rising within him; the vines were now tugging at his pant legs but even as he tried to run, not only to get away from the vines but also to get to shelter from this storm, he found he still couldn't move a muscle. Thunder crashed somewhere above. Water was rising around him now; it was as if he had been transported from his neighborhood to the shores of the sea as it rose to high tide. And then lightning, and along with it Charlie could hear more thunder, sounding almost like words, and a voice he should know, but he didn't. The horrid water was trapping him, threatening to engulf him as it crawled up his calves and began nibbling at his fingers, moving up to his wrists, his arms...

Now, Charlie lost it. In his mind, he relinquished a silent scream as he thrashed against the pull of the water, but it would not let him go. No matter how hard Charlie struggled, it held him back and he found he could not break free. The water was still rising - he was going to drown. He could hear the thunder again, and this time knew it was words, he knew it was someone telling him something, but he just didn't have the energy to listen, to discern. Would the person help him out of the water? Charlie let his muscles relax, felt his body drop back into the dreaded water...and suddenly found himself in the bathroom at his father's house, looking up into his father's worried face. And then Charlie's world went black.

"Charlie! Answer me, son! ... Charlie?" Alan gasped, slightly relieved to see Charlie had finally worn himself out. He had merely been talking with him, when he realized the boy was zoning out. He had suggested for Charlie to take a luke-warm bath to help relieve the fever, and he had thought Charlie understood when it had appeared, to Alan at least, that he nodded. Alan had a hard time getting Charlie over to the bathroom, but when Charlie s feet touched the cold floor of the tub, Charlie had begun acting as if he were possessed. Alan had to fight and with a quick response, so as not to let Charlie fall or hurt himself. After a few minutes of Alan pleading with Charlie to calm down, he had finally coaxed Charlie into a sitting position, but Charlie would not give up. Alan still spoke consolingly to his youngest, hoping his voice would break through whatever thoughts were haunting Charlie, and Charlie would come back to the real world. Alan himself had started fearing for everything worthy when Charlie would not respond to him. So, it came as a relief, when Charlie finally stopped fighting against him, albeit he had passed out.

Alan put his hand on Charlie's forehead, to find the fever had probably gone up yet again. The fever was also apparently making Charlie delerious, if this fight just moments ago meant anything. Alan would continue to try lukewarm baths, cold washcloths on his brow, dribbling cool liquids down his youngest son's throat, and everything else he knew of to get the fever down, but if it didn't work, he would reconsider the Walk-in Clinic idea for a lot sooner. Like maybe this afternoon.

A/N: I hope this chapter was at least somewhat worth the wait! Hopefully the next one won't be nearly as long of a wait...I will try to finish this very soon! Feel free to keep poking me if you have to! lol I may need that.