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“Kevin…Kevin!” Carl groaned, just barely lifting his head from his arms on the bar at the Alibi. Usually Kevin didn’t let the kids stay in the bar when it got too late, but it was so loud and busy, he couldn’t pay much attention to anyone not yelling their head off or asking for a drink.
Unfortunately, the lights and sounds of a busy bar were doing nothing to better Carl’s headache.
“Can I get some water?” Carl said out loud to no one. It was always Fiona’s go-to option for helping him. Headache? Drink water. Skinned knee? Drink water. Crying? Drink water.
He came here with Ian after they went grocery shopping together. Ian had wanted to stop by and visit Mickey for some reason. He said it would only take a minute, five tops, but here they were, twenty minutes later. The ache behind his eyes was building, and Ian was nowhere to be seen.
Carl was considering going home by himself. He didn’t want to freak out Ian, but he doubted he’d notice. They let him go to Cancer Camp just a few weeks earlier, so surely he could be trusted to walk home alone. Carl was just steeling himself for the pounding to double in his head as he stood up, when Frank plopped down in the seat next to him.
“Carl! My boy.” Frank gripped Carl, calluses rubbing against his bare arms as Frank shook him roughly in some semblance of an affectionate gesture.
“Do you believe what these goddamn nimrods in congress-” Frank continued on with his impassioned speech directed at the news on the tv. Some of the other patrons were even paying attention, but Carl certainly wasn’t. His eyes were trained on the water bottle in Frank’s hands.
“Dad, can I have that?”
“Huh?” His dad paused for a second. “Sure, whatever,” he said, not even looking at Carl or the water. Carl smiled, wrestling the water bottle from his dad’s hands as they flung up in time with loudly exclaimed expletives.
Carl eagerly drank half the bottle. He had a lot of faith in its ability to heal him.
Around fifteen minutes later, Carl put his head down. He’d been in that godforsaken bar for far too long, and was getting tired.
Kevin tapped him on the head. “Little Gallagher, you want me to call Fiona? She’s got the keys to my truck, could drive you home.”
“Ian’s here, somewhere,” Carl mumbled, not making the effort to raise his head, or open his eyes.
Eventually, Carl heard someone sink into the seat next to him.
“Hey buddy, ready to go?”
“I’ve been ready,” Carl grumbled, but giggled as Ian ruffled his hair. He stood, eyes still trained on the floor as light invaded his pupils.
“Well get on with it then,” Ian laughed, lightly pushing Carl in the back.
The floor seemed to slowly shift under his feet, like sand when waves crash on the beach. Carl blindly reached out, trying to keep his balance.
“Whoa!” Ian grabbed his arm and was at his side in a second. “Didn’t think I pushed you that hard.”
Carl shook his head. He had a headache, was tired, and just wanted to go home. Ian, luckily, must have gotten the hint, and didn’t say anything else, though Carl noticed the light touch around his shoulders.
The walk home was something of a blur. It was nice, at first, the fresh air waking Carl up and surprisingly helping his headache. The further they walked, however, the harder it was to keep placing one foot in front of the other.
Halfway to their house, Ian noticed the slight stumble Carl had in his gait. He furled his eyebrows. Sure, he’d left Carl alone for a little while, but Kevin was there. He wouldn’t have let Carl get drunk or something, would he? Ian wrapped his arm around Carl’s shoulder, trying to be casual and not embarrass him. There was a fine line with Carl. He wanted to be one of the guys, hanging with his big brothers. However, he was also one of the babies of the family, and it was no secret how he sought their affection.
Their house finally came into view. Ian ushered Carl in.
“You wanna go to bed?” He asked, dropping off the groceries and angling them to go right up the stairs.
Carl rolled his eyes. “I’m fine!” He said, staring at Ian, clearly waiting for an argument.
Ian smirked “Whatever. How about we sit on the couch together, watch something?” He could wait out Carl. If the earlier actions weren’t enough indication, Carl’s red eyes and increasingly frequent yawns told him that he would be asleep in minutes. If he wouldn’t sleep in his bed, better the couch than someplace like the van, or laundry machine, or underneath the porch stairs (all places that initiated Carl search-parties and heart attacks for Fiona).
Carl frowned, sensing a trap, but nodded. “Let me get water first.”
Ian settled onto the couch, pulling up the nature channel. It would put Carl to sleep, and besides, he felt bad leaving Carl alone for so long while visiting with Mickey, and should spend some actual time with him.
Carl felt like shit, to put it mildly. His head was pounding, he felt dizzy, and it was getting harder to breathe. He heard someone come down the stairs, but he couldn’t focus on who they were, or what they were saying. He tried to continue the trek to the sink, but stopped for a moment to grab the table for support. Right now, his breathing was taking priority over who exactly was in the room with him.
Fiona stared at Carl, who blatantly ignored her as he wobbled across the floor.
“Carl,” she asked again. Poor kid must be sick.
Ian raced into the room. The panic on his face seemed like an overreaction, but he must have known something she didn’t. She was about to ask what was going on, when a chair clattered on the ground across the room. Carl reached out with one hand on a chair, the other clawing desperately at the wall as he tried to stay on his feet. He stumbled, and Ian darted over to him, grabbing Carl around the waist just as his knees hit the ground with a loud thud.
Carl cast a fearful look around as he wheezed, not quite making eye contact with either of his siblings, before his eyes rolled back, only the whites visible before fully slipping closed.
Fiona screamed. “Carl!”
Ian lowered him to the ground, checking for breathing. A faint wheeze could be heard, thank God.
Two more sets of footsteps pounded on the steps. Lip and Debbie rounded the corner, surveying the scene of Carl on the floor, Ian kneeling with his ear hovering above Carl’s mouth to listen, and Fiona hovering right behind Ian, hand over her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
“What happened?” Lip demanded, as Debbie gasped and hid behind him, grabbing his shirt in her fists. Carl looked dead.
Fiona shook her head, more of a tremble than a conscious action.
“I-I…I don’t know.”
“Carl, wake up,” Ian urged, shaking him urgently.
“Call 9-1-1!” Debbie shrieked, finally gaining her bearings.
Fiona and Lip looked at each other. “We should go to urgent care at least, right?” Fiona asked.
Lip nodded. “Let’s go, come on.” He took Debbie to grab their jackets, and Ian scooped up Carl in his arms.
They piled into the truck, Ian still holding Carl in the front seat, and Lip holding Liam in the back with Debbie. Fiona floored it, while interrogating Ian.
“We got groceries, I stopped at the Alibi for a little bit-”
“Why?” Fiona demanded.
“Just to see a friend. We weren’t drinking or anything – and Kevin was there anyways. It’s not like this is something out of the ordinary.”
“He’s twelve years old!” Lip yelled from the backseat.
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Ian said in a dismissive voice, his tightening grip on Carl the only thing giving away his emotion. “I didn’t notice anything was off until we started to leave.”
Lip was about to respond, when Carl coughed, and started to open his eyes. Immediately, all attention was focused on the front seat.
“Carl, you awake?” Ian asked.
Carl didn’t say anything, his head still resting on Ian’s chest, eyes unfocused looking out the window.
“Is this the cancer?” He whispered.
“What?” Lip asked.
Carl didn’t say anything else, closing his eyes again.
“Stay awake!” Fiona said, slightly hysterical as she pulled into the parking lot.
“Where are we?” Carl mumbled.
“The doctor. You’re going to be just fine, you’re just a little sick,” Fiona assured him, jerking her head at Ian to get out of the car. The rest of the Gallaghers followed suit, jumping out of the car.
They boisterously entered the urgent care center. Fiona approached the receptionists, while Lip and Ian herded the rest of the kids to the waiting room.
Luckily, they were able to take Carl back quickly. Ian carried Carl with Fiona into a room, and then was told to go back to the waiting room to make more space. Fiona gave him a small, worried smile, before turning her attention back to Carl, where the nurses started taking a blood sample.
Ian settled into the chair across from Lip, resting his hand on Debbie’s head for a moment. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet the whole night. Ian didn't blame her, it was never easy seeing your sibling hurt.
They sat in silence for at least half an hour. Ian could tell Lip was still pissed at him, but he couldn’t care less. Of course he felt bad, but he didn’t need the shaming from himself and Lip. Besides, he and Lip both knew damn well that whatever happened would have just as easily - probably more likely to have - happened under Lip’s watch.
Fiona finally rejoined them. Her eyes were red and barely staying open, but she at least looked a little more settled than before.
“Fiona!” Debbie said.
Fiona sat on the other side of her, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head. “Hi baby.”
She cleared her throat, looking at the rest of her siblings. “He’s gonna be just fine. They did some tests, looks like he had oxy somehow.” She paused to glare at Ian, a less-intense version of her death stare. Ian’s face burned regardless. “They have him on fluids, and he’s just sleeping now. He should wake up soon, and we can go back and visit him if you all want.” She glanced around at all of them. “Or maybe you guys want to go home?”
They all just stared at her. As if they were leaving now. In silent agreement, they all stood, and followed Fiona to where Carl was sleeping.
They didn’t get there a moment too soon, as Carl started blinking his eyes open, confusion evident on his face.
“Hey there,” Fiona said gently, taking his hand.
Carl lay there for another minute without saying anything. He finally whispered, “Fiona?”
“It’s me,” she said, “and everyone else. Lip, Ian, Debbie, Liam.”
Carl made an effort to lift his head and look around, but soon abandoned that endeavor.
“I love you guys,” he said.
“We love you too,” Lip said, patting his leg through the blanket.
“When I had cancer, I thought it would be like this right before I died. And I was scared I wouldn’t say that enough.”
Whatever fuzzy feelings Fiona was feeling evaporated from that sentence. She looked at the others, but they were just as confused as she was.
Carl seemed to be intent on going back to sleep, but she shook him a little. “Wait, what?”
“I’ve had cancer the last couple weeks. I just barely got cured,” he said, not opening his eyes.
“Carl, you didn’t have cancer.”
He sighed. “You just didn’t know.” Fiona looked at her siblings again, hoping for an explanation. Carl piped up again, “Frank said I shouldn’t worry you.”
Oh. That would explain it. Lip tried not to start laughing.
“You did not have cancer. We would know. Have you ever gone to a doctor’s appointment without me? Or not me, without Lip or Ian?” Fiona looked directly into Carl’s eyes, trying to will him to believe her. “Frank is a liar. I don’t know why he would lie about that, but he did.”
Carl considered that. Doctors were supposed to tell you if you had cancer, and Frank had never been with Carl at the doctor.
“You think this is why he did the dishes and cleaned the room for like, two weeks straight?” Lip whispered to Ian.
Ian shrugged. It definitely made sense.
“Can I sleep now?”
“Yeah, we’ll be here when you wake up.”