Tuesday Morning

Deena woke up to the soft pressure squeezing her arm. Opening her eyes groggily she stared at the gray band around her bicep not comprehending why it was there. As the pressure slowly released and the numbers appeared on the monitor above her she realized that it was just a blood pressure cuff. She was in the clinic.

Looking over, her lips turned up in a small smile as she saw Charlie next to her bed, looking very much like a rag doll. His lanky form stretched out between two chairs that had been turned to face one another while his long arms hung limply from his shoulders. He slouched into the one chair clearly lost in sleep. She wondered how long he'd been there. She couldn't find a clock in the room and the only clue the window offered was the darkness outside. Not that it mattered what time it was. She had specifically told him to go home last night. But then, she realized, the doctor had probably called him.

Cringing slightly she remembered the pain from last night. She'd been out of breath most of the day, which in itself wasn't that unusual for a sickle cell crisis. But late in the evening, after she'd fallen asleep she'd woken up in intense pain. Each time she tried to inhale, it had felt as if someone was dropping a two-ton weight on her chest. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She remembered Dr. Richards' reassuring voice telling her it was okay, that he was going to give her something for the pain. After that she only remembered vague feelings and snippets of conversation.

Could be Acute Chest Syndrome, Dr. Richards had said to the other doctor. Possibly pneumonia, he'd said.

Deena wished now that she'd paid closer attention. She tried to rack her brain but the medication was drawing her back to sleep. Looking back over at her brother she suppressed another smile, watching as one of his hands rose lazily to rub at his face. Turning to his side in the chairs, Charlie let out a soft snore or snort, she couldn't be sure. Whatever the sound was it was funny enough to make her laugh.

An action she immediately regretted. The laugh caused her to draw in a large breath, expanding her chest and suddenly the pain spread out like a fire raging in her lungs. Exhaling as much air as she could she tried desperately not to gasp it all back in. But her body made her breath again, filling her chest with pain.

Charlie woke with a start, the chocked gasps invading his dreamless sleep, and nearly fell out of the makeshift bed. After a moment of disorientation he moved quickly to Deena's side, grasping her hand with one of his and reaching with the other for the call button.

"Deena," he spoke quietly, trying to keep his voice calm. "Shhhhh...slow down." He tried to help by displaying the slow, shallow breaths that would help her to regain control.

Charlie was thankful that Dr. Richards had prepared him for this. Last night he'd been in such a hurry just to get in and see Deena that he hadn't wanted to listen to the doctor. Now, though, looking at Deena's panicked face, he was glad that the doctor had insisted.

He continued murmuring softly to his sister, stroking her hand and forehead, trying to sound reassuring. After what felt like an eternity Penny, the night nurse, came in, quickly assessing the situation.

"Okay, hun, what's wrong?" Penny addressed Deena even as she concentrated on the monitor over the bed.

"Can't........catch........my breath," Deena answered, gulping huge amounts of air between each word, cringing in pain each time.

"All right, I'm going to move this up a little." Penny grabbed the remote to the bed and as moving the head portion up, lifting Deena into a sitting position. "See if that helps."

Deena noticed an immediate change. She still couldn't quite catch her breath, but the overwhelming sense of suffocation dissipated with every passing second. And more importantly the pain with inhalation seemed to fade a little, down to a bearable level at least.

"Better?" Penny asked, eyeing the readouts again.

"Yeah." It was little more than a wheeze but hadn't been nearly as hard as her other words.

"Good," Penny smiled at her as she moved to the door. "I'll be right back. I want you to watch Charlie while I'm gone." The nurse pointed to the young man and quickly slipped out.

Deena nodded, turning her attention back to her brother. If she could have laughed, she would have. The sight of Charlie making little puffing breaths like a woman in labor was almost too much. But then again laughing at him is what had brought on the attack in the first place. Gently she reached out and swatted him.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"For starting.......this." She picked up her free hand and motioned to indicate her current state.

"I was sleeping how could it be my fault?" Charlie kept his voice low and soft, but allowed some playful indignation to seep in.

"You were.....snoring.....and drooling." The words were coming easier now, but still not smoothly. "You made.......me laugh."

"I don't snore!" He said, his face melting into a smile of relief. If she was joking it couldn't be that bad.

"Yes, you do." Penny had come back into the room, apparently intent on joining forces against him. "I could hear you all the way down the hall," she gently teased as she set her wares down on the tray next to the bed.

"I'm outnumbered here aren't I?" Charlie asked in a pained voice.

"Looks that way," Penny removed the non-rebreather mask from its plastic bag and connected it to the oxygen spigot on the wall. "Okay, Deena, I'm going to put this on you. It's going to help you breath, and I want you to try to take slower, deeper breaths for me okay. Don't overdo it, though."

Deena nodded and tried to concentrate on her breathing but found herself afraid of the pain she might inadvertently trigger.

Penny had also brought drugs back to the room with her, though, and was busy infusing the contents of the syringe into the IV line. "This should help with the pain, okay. It's important that you try to breath deep. This should kick-in in just a minute or two."

Deena closed her eyes against the pain, quietly waiting for the relief she knew would come. As the medication circulated through her body she replayed past basketball games in her mind. She didn't have a memory for facts and figures, not the kind of recollection that would ever help her in school, but she never forgot games. Well-executed plays as well as bad, moments and mistakes that always seemed to stay with her. They were calming, these memories, something to focus on when she needed peace.

Opening her eyes again she watched Penny slip out of the room before turning her attention to Charlie. She took in his drawn face, wondering how much sleep he'd actually gotten in the past days. He looked at her like her mother used to, with a mixture of fear and pity. Even then that look had always made it worse.

Smiling in hopes of easing the tension, she tried to prove to Charlie she was okay. "Guess I'm lucky summer season......doesn't start for a couple.....of weeks, huh?" The pain in her chest was fading quickly, her breath coming more easily as she spoke.

Her smile faded quickly, though, when Charlie turned away, closing his eyes against her.

"Hey," she tried to make her voice soothing, but it just came out a little raspy and ragged. "It's not a big deal.....I'll be fine. Might miss the first......few games but then I'll be good.......as new."

Charlie turned back to her, his eyes were red around the edges, looking more apologetic than they should. When he finally spoke, she had to strain to hear the words.

"I don't think you should play anymore."

Her stomach began to feel queasy as the sinking feeling took hold of her. They'd had multiple versions of this conversation before. Every time she had a crisis, in fact. Looking hard at him, though, she could tell this was different. He looked much more serious this time than he ever had before.

Shaking her head, she grasped at a small hope. "You mean just for the summer......right." When he didn't answer she let the edge of panic touch her words. "Just for the summer?" she pleaded.

"I don't..." Charlie trailed off, unable to look his sister in the eye. "Let's not talk about it right now, okay."

Deena closed her eyes against everything the non-answer implied. Sensing the coming sting of tears she found herself too tired to even argue.

-----

Josh made his way through the lobby with his cup of coffee. It was still early so there weren't many people around. It had really only been six hours since he'd left the previous evening but he was good at surviving on power naps and caffeine when he had to. Besides even when he tried sleeping last night he couldn't. His thoughts kept going back to Charlie. The exchange before he'd gone into the Oval Office had been strange. And when he exited Charlie wasn't at his desk and neither was Sam in his office. He found himself hoping that whatever it was bothering Charlie, the two of them had talked about it.

Dropping his backpack and coat in his office, he noted with a frown that Donna had beat him in. Sometimes that woman really was unnatural.

"I need money." Her voice was close enough to startle him.

"And good morning to you too."

"Good morning, I need twenty dollars," she repeated. He'd come to expect this: for all her rambling at times Donna Moss certainly believed in jumping to the point.

"What no raise this time?"

"Well yes, that too. Right at the moment, though, I just need the cash," she held out her hand expectantly.

"What for?" he asked suspiciously.

"A surprise."

"What kind of surprise?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Why not?"

"It will ruin the surprise."

"Okay, see it's that kind of circular reasoning that makes you such a joy in the morning."

"Josh..."

"Tell me why I should give you my hard earned money."

"Because without me none of that money earning work would get done," she smirked. "Plus...you love me."

"Not nearly as much as you seem to think," he said, reluctantly pulling out his wallet and fishing out a twenty.

When she reached out to grab the bill he held firmly onto the other end. "So this will buy me at least a morning's worth of peace, right?"

"An hour's worth."

"Two."

"Done." With a smile that bordered on smug she took the now released bill and returned to her cubicle.

After watching her for a moment he turned, grabbing the files he needed and headed in the direction of Leo's office. He was startled to see a light coming from Communications. Changing directions to investigate he was not really surprised to see it was Sam's office that was lit up.

"Sam," he said, knocking lightly on the doorframe and taking note of the slouched form. Josh laughed a little at the sight of his friend spread out across his desk in sleep. Quietly, Josh moved across the room and touched Sam's shoulder shaking the man softly.

"Sam."

"mmmm...yeah," Sam murmured, waking slowly.

"Sam, wake up."

"Yeah, I'm up," Sam said, turning his head over, and closing his eyes again.

Josh smiled and shook his friend more forcefully. "Sam. Up. Now."

Sam pushed himself up, resting his elbows on the desk and rubbing at his eyes. "Just can't let a guy sleep, can you?"

"Not when *I'm* wide awake, no."

"Got anymore of that coffee?" Sam gestured to Josh's cup.

"Come on," Josh nodded his head towards the bullpen indicating Sam should follow, "I'll fix you some."

Sam groaned audibly as he pulled his body out of the chair. He'd forgotten how the second day was always worse on his overtaxed muscles and spending the night in his chair certainly hadn't helped. He reached down into his second drawer and withdrew the bottle of Advil. Dry swallowing four of the little pills he finally followed Josh out.

"So," Josh busied himself with the coffee filter. "To what do you owe the sleepover?"

Sam wasn't sure how much Josh knew or had figured out about the previous evening. He was sure his friend didn't know about Deena's illness. Charlie had told him that no one else knew. Sam wasn't really sure how much to say either. Charlie hadn't said to not tell, but Sam hadn't asked if he should. Either way he though the truth would be a good place to start since it didn't directly involve Charlie or Deena.

"I was reading up on the RDA."

"And?"

"And nothing. It won't be the first time a good bill has gone under."

Sam hated the way that sounded, hated it more that he agreed with it. The RDA, for all the good it might do, was a small bill with limited gains for the administration. If the President pushed for the bill without also supporting the changes Terry was after in patent lives they would likely lose his future support. And right now, with the Patient Bill of Rights close to passing the House, they couldn't afford to be making such powerful enemies in the Senate. On the other hand if they sided with the pharmaceutical companies and reopened Hatch/Waxman, not only would they effectively severe the administration's good ties with NORD but they were very likely to face an extended floor fight. Lengthening patent lives was not a popular option. Given the scenarios the best plan was clearly for the White House to step out of it all, let Terry and NORD settle this on their own.

Josh nodded. It wasn't anything unusual, most bills died long before they reached a vote anyway. "They can always reintroduce it later," Josh offered. "Wait till they have more support."

"Yeah. I know," Sam sighed. "Now I just have to tell Linda."

"She's a lobbyist, she'll understand that we can't get involved in this one."

"I'm not so sure. She's..." Sam trailed off mid thought, staring over Josh's shoulder across the bullpen. Standing at the lobby door, Charlie was motioning for Sam to join him.

"Sam?"

"Huh?"

"You still with me here?" Josh waved his hand in front of his friend's face.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Sam apologized quickly. Gripping Josh's arm lightly, he moved past his friend towards the door Charlie had ducked through. "I'll be back in just a second."

"Okay," Josh said, confused.

Sam left the bullpen quickly, suddenly concerned. Charlie had looked agitated, like something had happened.

"Sam."

He turned abruptly at his name and found Charlie waiting for him just outside one of the conference rooms.

Nodding his head toward the open room, Charlie indicated for Sam to join him.

Sam followed Charlie into the room and waited while the other man closed the door behind them, noting the caution with which he checked the hall in doing so. He was confused by Charlie's manner.

Finally turning his attention back to Sam, Charlie chanced a half-smile. Whether he was trying to put Sam or himself at ease he wasn't sure. He was still upset about his conversation with Deena. He really hadn't wanted to bring his decision up yet, didn't want to have the fight he knew would come with it. When it came to her health she would just have to learn to accept his judgment. He wasn't about to be responsible for losing her, too.

"Charlie?" Sam asked quietly. "What's going on? Is Deena okay?"

"She's fine," Charlie answered tersely. "Listen, you haven't told anyone have you?"

"No." Sam answered flatly, a little put off by the young man's tone.

"Good. Don't."

"But last night..."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything to you."

"No, that's not what I meant. I think you should tell them. You know we'll all help you anyway we can, right?"

"I appreciate you concern. We both do," Charlie softened his tone a little. He really was thankful for Sam's obvious feelings for his family, but none of that changed the situation or his decision. "But please just drop it, okay?"

"I think you're making a mistake."

"Well, you certainly wouldn't be the first."

"You don't have to do this alone."

"We've gotten along fine this far. I can take care of my family," Charlie insisted, his voice conveying a confidence he didn't feel.

"That's not the point," Sam said, clearly frustrated. Nothing he said seemed to be getting through to Charlie. "I'm saying that you don't need to do it alone."

"Sam," Charlie fought to keep his voice level, touched by the sentiment but still angry with himself for letting the situation get out of control. "Please, just leave it alone. This crisis will pass and then it will all be back to normal. There's really no reason for anyone else to know."

Not waiting for a response Charlie turned and left the room, leaving a stunned Sam in his wake.

-----

Sam sat a table near the back of the restaurant, staring solemnly down into his coffee cup. He really didn't want to be the one to do this. But Linda had come to him and now he had to tell her that they couldn't, or wouldn't, help.

"Cystic fibrosis, Crohn's disease."

He heard her voice before he saw her.

"Epilepsy, hemophilia, lactose intolerance," Linda slid into the seat across from him and continued with her litany, "Lowe syndrome, muscular dystrophy, Parkinson's disease, sickle cell disease, Xeroderma Pigmentosum."

"What was that?" Sam asked, returning her smile.

"Just a few of the rare disorders the RDA will affect."

"See I'm not sure that last one is real. I think maybe you just like to use big words to intimidate me."

"It's a genetic disorder in which people don't have the mechanisms necessary to repair cell damage due to UV radiation," Linda said, her face suddenly very serious. "They can't go outside in the sun, ever."

"Oh." Sam let the smile fade from his face, chagrined at his own flippant attitude.

"Twenty five million people, that's almost one in ten," Linda continued.

"I can do the math thanks." Sam's voice came out more biting than he'd meant. Cringing, he quickly turned away from Linda's hurt expression. He tried to signal the waitress, if for no other reason than to stall for a moment and regroup. They hadn't gotten off to the best start for a conversation that wasn't going to be pleasant to begin with.

Linda, however, refused to give him the moment. Her frustration was evident in her voice when she continued. "So if you guys are worried about MS being the issue..."

"We're not making it the issue."

"Yes, Sam, you are."

"We're really not. But even if we did...I can't believe...I can't believe I have to explain this to you."

"Then I'll save you the trouble. You're worried that the President will be perceived as pushing this as a personal agenda and I'm saying that chances are everyone in America either has a rare disease or knows someone who does. I think maybe they'll be able to realize that this isn't for the benefit of one man or one disorder for that matter. Give them some credit."

"It's not that simple. Even if the President didn't have MS it wouldn't be that simple." Sam felt his patience evaporating a little more each moment. "Listen, Terry's not going to let this go just because the President asks him to. They want something in return."

"NORD is not going to back down on patent life, Sam," Linda shook her head. "We don't work that way. We're a not-for-profit; we work as the patient advocate. Extended patent lives are *not* in the best interest of patients."

"Then I don't think that we can help you."

"Have you even run this by the President yet? Has he said no?"

"We try to keep things like this off his desk."

"That's kind of a rotten policy."

"Do you have any idea how many times we get approached on things like this?" Sam sighed.

"But this is important," she said, her voice rising.

"That's what they all say."

"You're not listening to me Sam!"

"I am. I really am...but this is not...this is a good bill. No one's arguing that. But it's limited and it's going to create more enemies than friends. And I can't help but wonder if you're too close to this to see that."

"This is a good bill. We have to take small steps before we can take big leaps, and maybe you don't see *that* because you're not close enough!" Linda pointed an accusatory finger at him across the table.

"I know Collin-"

"This has nothing to do with Collin! And frankly, I would appreciate it if you didn't treat me like some poor waif whose husband's death defines her whole life."

"I'm sorry," Sam ducked his head, blushing furiously. "That was out of line."

"Yes, it was." Linda dug in her briefcase for a moment before dropping a large folder on the table between them. "So you want far reaching, right?"

"It would certainly make taking this to the President easier," Sam agreed.

"Pharmaceutical liability, shortened clinical trials, Medicaid coverage." Linda shuffled through the stack of papers in front of her, handing them each to Sam as she read them off. "Hatch/Waxman is just the tip of the iceberg. They're testing the water. If we compromise on that they're going to start going after these others full force. This isn't just about the RDA anymore, Sam. It's about patient rights and protection."

Sam sat, scanning the papers as he listened to her. "These are all current bills," he mumbled, the connections coming together in his head. Suddenly animated, he grabbed a pen and began scribbling notes in the margin, only turning to Linda as an afterthought "Can I have these?"

"I guess I could call it even if you treat me to lunch."

"Deal." Sam smiled up at her briefly before returning to his notes.

-----

"Charlie!"

Charlie turned reluctantly at his name, not particularly wanting to have another conversation with Sam. He felt awkward about leaving so abruptly after their first talk and he didn't want to deal with it again. But he couldn't just ignore Sam either.

"Yeah?"

"Come in here for a second," Sam motioned to his office.

"I'm really busy, I have to-"

"Just for a second, promise."

Charlie sighed, following Sam into the office. Before Sam could speak, though, Charlie sought to control the direction of the conversation.

"I said my peace this morning. Please don't ask me to change my mind."

"Well, I wasn't going to," Sam said, truthfully. Moving behind the desk he fixed Charlie with a look he hoped was a good approximation of parental concern. "I was just going to ask how Deena was. But since you brought it up..."

"She's fine and it's not open for discussion."

"I think you're making a mistake."

"You already mentioned that."

"Charlie-"

"Look, she's going to be released this afternoon. It's not a big deal and I'd appreciate it if we could not talk about this."

"Seriously, I-" Sam was cut off by the staccato trill of his phone, "Hang on." He motioned for Charlie to sit with one hand while bringing the phone to his ear with the other.

"Seaborn. Yes, he's right here." Sam held out the receiver to Charlie across the desk, shaking his head when Charlie mouthed the question 'who?'

Charlie grasped the phone tightly, holding it at arms length as though it might bite. Slowly bringing to his ear, he fought against a growing sense of dread.

"Charles Young."

-----

Outside his office Josh could hear what he swore sounded like a gaggle of geese. Looking out he saw it was only a congregation of assistants. More to the point it was a gathering of Senior Assistants, all talking in hushed tones. Intrigued he slid quietly out of his office, trying to remain inconspicuous while getting in range to overhear the conversation. Moving to the filing cabinet at the edge of the bullpen he turned his back to the group, straining his ears to hear.

"...balloons, hats, and I'll pick up the cake..." said a voice he immediately recognized as Donna's.

"What time should we start?" Margaret asked.

"Well, when I talked to Deena last week she said she'd have him here by six. So how about around four?"

There was a murmured chorus of affirmatives, before Donna started again.

"Okay, now..." her voice trailed off.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he realized that they were no longer talking. He was suddenly very sure that all five pairs of eyes were focused on his back. Picking up a random folder he turned slowly towards the women, trying his best to look engrossed in the file.

"Josh?"

He looked up to see five very amused assistants staring at him.

"Can I help you with something?" Donna offered, not trying at all to hide her smirk.

"No, I just needed to...uh...get this file," he said, waving the manila folder in front of him. He was suddenly very conscious of the heat rising in his cheeks. "I'll...uh...just be going back to my office...now."

"Okay, you do that."

Josh slunk back into his office, slumping into the chair. That didn't go nearly so well as he would have liked. Although he did pick up enough clues to determine a birthday party was in the works. Now he just wondered for whom.

Several minutes later Donna came in, shaking her head and clucking in the exact same way his mother used to do to show her exasperation.

"You know, Joshua, it's really not polite to spy."

"I wasn't spying," he argued, his voice rising slightly.

"Yes, you were," she accused. "You may as well have had a sign taped to your back: 'Josh Lyman: Secret Agent Man' for all the subtlety you displayed."

"I was very subtle."

"You were about as subtle as Ru Paul at a Promise Keepers convention."

"It was the slinking, wasn't it?" he asked, giving up the defensive.

"Mostly. Although hiding behind the coffeemaker may have had something to do with it," she pointed out.

"See but if you would just tell me what's going on, we could avoid all this."

"And you definitely proved you're to be trusted just now."

"Come on it's not like you're planning world domination. We're talking about a birthday party here," Josh's voice wavered precariously close to a whine.

"Yes. And I was going to tell you, you know, before your little Mission: Impossible melodrama."

"And now?"

"Nope. You'll just have to wait," she answered, turning to head out of the office.

"I hate you."

"I'll get over it."

-----

They entered the hospital lobby at a near run, quickly heading for the information desk. As he watched Charlie try to find which room Deena was in, Sam marveled at how quickly the young man had switched gears. Here, he was all business, forceful and with purpose, not at all the same person he'd been with in the car.

When the call had come Sam had watched as Charlie's face furrowed in concern and almost horror. Charlie hadn't needed to explain. And really, he hadn't even tried. He'd simply slumped down into the nearest chair, shock distorting his normally placid features.

Sam had left Charlie slumped in the chair, quietly exiting to ask Ginger to cancel his afternoon appointments. He'd come back to the office and literally forced Charlie to stand and shrug into his coat. He only shook his head at Ginger's unasked question as he steered the young man out of the office and toward Sam's car.

The ride to the hospital was almost painful as Charlie had literally curled up in the seat, not looking at Sam, let alone speaking to him. Stunned silence were the only words he could come up with to describe it. It felt too much like the last ride to GW he'd endured.

Following Charlie to the elevator he wondered again at the sibling bond. He didn't understand it, being an only child, but he'd certainly witnessed it in cousins and friends. Sometimes he wondered if even those with brothers and sisters fully understood. It ran deeper, it seemed at times, than even the bond shared with parents. He'd often wondered if it had something to do with a common enemy.

Exiting onto the floor closely behind Charlie, Sam thought again that he wasn't the right person for this job. He could offer support, but not the innate understanding that CJ or Toby, with their own sibling ties, could. Even Josh would be a better choice. Then, after considering it for a moment, he hoped that Josh wouldn't turn out to be the best choice after all.

-----

Charlie watched the last bag of blood shrink as it transferred its contents through the tubing and into Deena. He was thankful, at least, that he had missed them bleeding her. He and Sam had gotten there just as the nurse was clamping off the last full bag of Deena's own blood. It made sense to him, drawing the diseased cells out of her body and replacing them with healthy ones. The exchange transfusion would reduce the symptoms, but it still seemed almost ghoulish.

Stroking the back of her hand softly, he watched her chest rise and fall with the mechanical timing of the respirator. When he was twelve, he had sat just like this, holding Deena's hand. He remembered it vividly. It was the worst crisis she'd had, not as bad as this, but still too much for her little body. His mom was on the night shift so his dad had rushed them to the hospital, frantic and angry.

Charlie had wandered around the hospital, lost until a volunteer had found him and led him upstairs. The machines, with their lights and sounds, had frightened him but he went to her side anyway. He remembers that she was crying softly in her sleep, and even then he had the paternal urge to wipe the moisture from her cheeks.

More than all that, though, he remembers the screaming. Even through the door he had been able to hear his parents yelling, his mother's voice more insistent, pleading. And his father, not even really screaming, but talking in a low voice. He never remembers the words but he can still see them through the window, a nurse approaching to break them up, his father turning to look at him for just a moment before leaving. His mother's slumped, shaking shoulders were enough to tell Charlie that his dad wouldn't be coming back.

In a haze of hurt and confusion he had latched onto the only thing that made any sense. He remembers looking down at the small form laid before him and deciding that it must be her fault. All of it, the constant fighting, his mom working extra shifts and, now, his dad walking out were because of her. He hated her for it.

Hated her for years after that. Even when she had no idea what she'd done, he always knew. Even when his mom had finally figured it out, trying to scold and comfort him at the same time, he still held it close, like a shield. Because if it was her fault, it couldn't be his.

He realized eventually that it was irrational. That their father leaving had much more to do with the man himself than it did with his children. Despite this realization, though, there were still times, some much more than others, when he still blamed her. Like on his sixteenth birthday when not even a card came. When, at his graduation, he had looked out over the crowd with irrational hope. The days after his mom died and he had to make funeral arrangements. And, most recently, when he'd gotten the job at the White House and there had just been the two of them to celebrate. At those moments he felt all of twelve again, hating his sister for being sick and needy and inconvenient.

Shaking off the unpleasant feeling of déjà vu, Charlie looked down at their clasped hands and wondered if maybe she had any blame him to place on him. Not for their father, maybe, but certainly for their mom. It was Charlie, after all, that had asked her to change shifts. He couldn't fault Deena if she did. It made it all easier to deal with sometimes, if the blame could be placed firmly at someone else's feet.

Charlie turned his head slightly at a sound near the door, and watched as Sam slowly pulled the room's curtain closed behind him.

"Was that?" Charlie asked about the phone call, too tired to even complete the thought.

"Yeah," Sam answered, his voice low.

"What did you tell them?"

"That we're at your apartment. That you just wanted to check on her."

Charlie nodded, sighing in what might have been relief but was probably closer to exhaustion. Behind him he could hear Sam fidget, slowly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, playing with the keys in his pocket. When he spoke he was closer than Charlie had originally thought.

"I've got to go back." It came out like both an apology and a question. Like Sam was asking his permission to leave.

"Okay." Charlie closed his eyes, continuing softly, "Thanks for..."

"Yeah." Sam rested his hand lightly on Charlie's shoulder before moving around him to the far side of the bed. Reaching down he hesitated at the mass of IV tubes and wires that surrounded Deena's arm. Cautiously he grasped just the tips of her fingers gently in his hand, squeezing lightly. Looking down at her, Sam had a hard time reconciling the image with the vibrant girl who'd beaten him so thoroughly just two nights ago. Looking up he met Charlie's eyes staring back at him.

"You know they're going to ask when you don't come back?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"I know," Charlie rubbed at his eyes.

"Charlie," Sam paused waiting for the young man to look at him again. "If this is how you want it...I don't understand...but I'll tell them whatever you want."

Charlie sighed, looking again at his sister. He resigned himself to the fact that maybe he couldn't do this alone, not this time. Perhaps it was time to stop blaming. Maybe he needed his friend's in a way that scared him just a little too much. But they were cut from different cloth than his father, he had to believe that they wouldn't leave given the truth. Squeezing Deena's hand and silently apologizing he turned to Sam. "Tell them. Tell them everything."