Title: Dangling Participles; Part II of the Mistaken Identity Series

Chapter 38: Defining Finite

Authors: Rabid Raccoons

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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Minerva had called Alan while the youngsters were settling Charlie for the return trip to the island on one of those little things they called a cell. She asked her neighbor to wait while she walked up the dock and used the pay phone, and darned if he hadn't shoved that little thing in her hand. Of course, then he had to take it back and push all the right buttons for her, but eventually she was talking to Alan, promising to bring his boys back in one piece and telling him where she kept the keys to the Volkswagen van so he could pick them all up at the dock.

"Thank God," he had crowed. "I was about to mop the kitchen floor."

Minerva scowled into the phone. "What's wrong with my floor?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "Your cabin is absolutely spotless. Maybe a little more spotless than you left it, but a man has to keep his hands busy. I hope you don't mind."

Minnie shook her head and smiled in spite of herself. All the way back to the island, standing next to her neighbor at the helm, she wondered if what she'd been missing all these years was a good, solid little wife like Alan Eppes.

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Charlie had warmed up at the clinic, but the trip back to the island had thoroughly chilled him again, and his shivering was apparent as Ana removed the staples. When she had started, both Alan and Don had insisted on staying. Alan had turned a trifle green as she extracted the first staple, and backed away a step. She had looked up around staple #6 and found that Don's color was a little off as well. "Gentlemen," she suggested, giving Charlie a little breather before she dug for #7, "Charlie's still very cold and he probably would like to wash his hair; why don't you get a bath set up for him? I'd like him to soak this knee for a while before we reapply the brace, as well." She shot a brilliant smile at Alan. "You did a fine job, by the way. It's as good as new."

Alan and Don practically tripped over each other in their haste to grab up the items Charlie might need and rush down the hall to the bathroom, and in spite of his discomfort a low chuckle sounded in Charlie's throat as they left. "Thanks," he rasped, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like he might be coming down with a cold. "They're not usually so…delicate, but then I can't really see what you're doing down there."

Ana smiled and moved on to #8. "It's not that terrible, I assure you. I think they're just both a little rattled from the entire experience."

"Mmmm," Charlie agreed, wincing as #9 was yanked from its home. "I know you're right about washing the seaweed out of my hair, but I kind-of wish I could just sleep for a few days."

Ana automatically slipped into her professional, authoritative mode. "Mr. Eppes, it's imperative that you follow my instructions to a T. For one thing, we are doing our best to avoid any nasty infections related to your little swim this afternoon." She winked then, glancing up toward his face. "For another, you have the rather severe misfortune of having your doctor several feet away at all times. If you disobey me, the consequences will be severe."

Charlie laughed his way through #s 11 and 12, although there was a slight hitch at the end. "What do you think you can do to me?" he challenged as he looked back.

Ana had her head down, working on #13, which was proving a little stubborn. "I could always inform the law," she answered. Finally snagging the reluctant staple she looked back up, eyes twinkling. "Or perhaps the tag team known as Minnie and Al."

Charlie rolled his eyes and started to smile, but frowned as he got a good look at her. "Is there a bruise on your chin? What happened? Did you jump into the ocean too?"

Ana looked a little startled. She had forgotten about the altercation on the bluff entirely. She was surprised there was even a bruise; her jaw did not hurt all that much. Now that Charlie mentioned it, though, she remembered that Minerva's left eye was swelling shut. She'd have to check that out while Charlie was in the bath. "Oh, that," she shrugged. "Seems that Pete fellow might have been just a tad jealous of your father and Minerva."

Charlie's own eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?" he asked, voice an octave higher than usual. That could have been because of staple #14, but Ana rather doubted it. "My father and Minerva?"

Ana smiled into his knee. "Calm yourself, Charlie; I don't think there's any real risk of impending nuptials. I think they call him 'Crazy Pete' for a reason."

"Oh." Charlie relaxed a little and shivered again, and Ana tried to hurry. Luckily numbers 15 and 16 seemed anxious to jump ship. "Is everybody all right?"

"I think so," Ana answered. "I'll check on them both while you're in the bath." She hesitated after #17, looking up. Charlie was yawning at the ceiling, and she wondered if she should wait for this, but finally decided there was no time like the present.

"Charlie," she began, turning back to the last staple, "I told Don that I'll stay for a few more days to keep an eye on your lungs and your knee, but I'll probably be heading back to L.A. by the end of the week."

He moved a little in agitation and nearly cost himself a nasty little gash in the process. "Please, you don't have to do that. I, I don't know what Don told you, but I'm glad you're here, really. He's having such a good time!" It was quite a speech for the exhausted man, increasing in desperation, and Ana shushed him as she began to wipe down his knee with a cotton ball soaked in peroxide. This was the most uncomfortable part, and at least she had managed to keep his mind off it, she reasoned.

"No, Charlie, Don didn't say or do anything to make me leave. None of you did. I also have been having a wonderful time, and I love you all very much."

Charlie swallowed and as his hands clenched into fists at his sides, Ana suspected he wasn't quite distracted enough. "Then why do you have to go?" His voice was plaintive, and Ana was both touched and saddened.

"Charlie, none of us ever intended for me to be part of your entire vacation. I'm so pleased that you invited me along at all, but I do still have some things up in the air back in L.A. I left a little suddenly, and missed an appointment I had for an interview with a private practice. And I'd like to speak with the Chief of Staff at UCLA Medical Center again."

Instead of reassuring Charlie, that knowledge seemed to fill him with guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's all my fault."

Ana wanted to hug him and slap him at the same time, but she finally straightened her spine and settled for a gentle tap to the side of his leg. "Nonsense," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't have time to entertain such nonsense. I was exactly where I wanted to be the last several weeks, and I make my own decisions. It is just time for me to go back, now." She stood; then leaned over to lift Charlie's leg from the bed. "Come, now, your bath awaits you. When you are finished, I will apply some antibiotic ointment and a light dressing, and you can put the brace back on."

Charlie sighed, and did as he was told. There was always a chance he would drown in the bathtub.

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Despite Charlie's proclivity for complicated recoveries, having his own personal physician on-site seemed to turn the tide. Antibiotics, the occasional diuretic and Ana's dedicated attention kept him pneumonia-free, and the incision on his knee continued to heal well. His slight cold never even fully developed.

On the fourth day after the accident, Ana did leave the island. Other guests of Minerva's were leaving that day as well, driving a rental back to Portland, and she was invited to ride with them. From Portland, she could catch a commercial flight back to L.A. The Eppes had spoken with Minerva and decided to stay another week. Although she needed the cabin Don and Ana had been using for new guests, she had a roll-away that could be set up in the guest room with Charlie, so Don moved into the main cabin.

On the day that Ana left, the Eppes all accompanied her to Bar Harbor. Minerva had to stay on the island and run the resort, but Alan had planned a day trip out of Bar Harbor for himself and his sons, knowing Don would be sad and lonely. He hoped to distract him with a jaunt up to Cadillac Mountain. Charlie still tired easily, and was very quiet, but even so it had been a nice day for father and sons. Alan was glad that Don did not seem as despondent as he had feared. Over the next several days his eldest seemed to embrace their time together as a family. He was relaxed, and tan, and healthy, and Alan's heart swelled with pride.

The day after their trip to the mountain, they managed a less-eventful picnic on the bluff again, and on the third day they actually went to the most popular, tourist-infested beach in the area; mostly so they could tell everyone they had. Still, it was surprisingly peaceful, sitting on rented chaise lounges under garish beach umbrellas, sipping lemonade sent by Minerva and listening to children screaming as they waded in the ocean's surf. That evening, back at Minerva's cabin, they had enjoyed a marvelous mussel stew she had simmered all day.

As always, Charlie was the first to leave the group, slowly crutching out to the front porch to sit in the rocking chair. Minnie had miraculously produced two more, and after chatting with his father for a few minutes, Don had gone back to the guest bedroom and then marched back out, cell phone in his hand, and joined his brother on the porch. "Hey," he greeted, ignoring the other chairs and leaning instead on the banister near Charlie. He was purposely cutting off his brother's view, so that Charlie would have to look at him.

It worked. Charlie looked up and shaded his eyes from the setting sun. "Hi," he answered; then noticed the cell phone in Don's hand. He put his hands on the arms of his chair, preparing to push himself up. "You want me to leave? Are you going to call Ana?"

Don frowned and shook his head. "No, Charlie. Even if I were, if I brought the phone out here to do it that wouldn't mean you had to leave. You were here first."

Charlie relaxed back in the chair, but sighed and looked away. "Are you mad at me?" he asked in a small voice, and Don looked at him in genuine surprise.

"What? No, no, of course not. What? Have I seemed angry to you?"

Charlie shrugged, still refusing to look at Don. "Not really, but I thought that might be a show for Dad." He risked a glance at his brother. "You've got to be at least a little miffed that I chased Ana away."

Don crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Geez, Charlie. You've got a real guilt complex going there. If you need Bradford's number, I'll get it for you when we get back home."

Charlie answered in a tone somewhere between petulant and defensive. "I don't need a shrink, thank you very much."

I beg to differ, thought Don, I think one certain shrink is exactly who you need...

He managed to hold his tongue and relaxed against the rail for a while, trying to think of the proper approach. He toyed with the cell phone in his hand and took a shot. "Charlie," he began, "if something ever happened to me, I would hope that someone would step up for you. Larry, Colby, David; maybe someone else."

Charlie was terrified into near speechlessness as he leaned precariously forward. "What? What?" Don could have sworn his brother's eyes actually teared up as he started trying to push out of the chair. "Something's wrong, oh my God…"

Don squatted next to the chair, gently pushing Charlie back down as he did. "No, Charlie, take it easy. Everything's good. Really." He waited until Charlie's breathing regulated before he continued. "I'm just trying to make a point. I know those guys would never take my place with you; that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that love is not…a finite product proportioned out to us in gallon jugs at birth. When we spend some of it, we're not left with less. It's weird, Buddy, but it seems to be the opposite. I'm just saying I would hate to think of you denying yourself close relationships because you were afraid that it would somehow be a bad reflection of our brotherhood." Charlie sank back in the chair, a guarded look settling on his face, but Don not only persisted, he rested one hand on top of his brother's arm. "The better you became at loving someone else, I figure that would indicate you learned from the time you spent toughing it out with me," he said softly. "I think I knew Amita well enough to assume that she would feel the same way." Charlie closed his eyes, but Don wouldn't let his brother shut him out. "She loved you. She would never want you to be alone the rest of your life." After a pause he stood again, with one last shot. "Be honest, Buddy. Is that what you would have wanted for her, if the situation was reversed?"

Charlie's eyes popped open at that and his mouth gaped a little. Don smiled and leaned over to lay the cell phone in his lap. "I know you lost your phone in Kansas City," he said, "so you can borrow mine. While you were in the hospital, Lydia asked me to keep her updated. Her number is still on my contact list." He smiled again, squeezed Charlie's shoulder briefly, and then walked back into the cabin.

Charlie sat on the porch for a long time, watching tourists hike back from the beach, listening to Don referee a game of Scrabble between Minerva and Alan, smelling the heady mixed scent of pine and saltwater. His brother had been gone nearly 45 minutes before he lifted the phone and began scrolling through the contacts.

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End, Chapter 38

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A/N: The Rabid Raccoons are all a-twitter, and facing a trilogy. Will Alan stay in Maine and be Minerva's hausfrau? Will Ana move in with Don? Can Charlie find it in his heart to love Lydia? Did Penfield's escape and subsequent actions nullify his "deal" and will he finally pay the ultimate price for his crimes? Will Crazy Pete be charged with assault or disappear onto a lobster boat? These are but a few of the questions that force the Raccoons into your garbage bins at night.