Archive of Our Own

"Did you find those gloves?" Hannah asked Evan as he scooted past her to grab an apple. The teen had already loaded the bed of their truck with his tack and equipment for his training clinic with Cooper Johnson the next morning but he'd been on a nearly frantic mission searching the house for his bronc-busting gloves. Thanks to Coop's gruff disposition, the kid had learned the hard way to dare not show up to the man's rodeo lessons short any equipment or gear.

"Yup, I found 'em," he said around a large chunk.

"Manners, you Neanderthal," Crane scolded. Hannah just rolled her eyes, though it was obvious she wasn't at all offended. Crane winked at her then and as the smile she wore widened, Crane couldn't help but marvel, not for the first time, at how well his brother's wife had adjusted to their testosterone dominated household.

"Oh, pardon-ay mwha," Evan apologized with an exaggerated bow, though his mangled French came out garbled too by the apple he was still crunching.

"I give up," Crane said, not entirely feigning his exasperation as Hannah's soft snickers faded further into the kitchen.

The family was going to be hitting the road early the next morning. Intending to watch Evan's lessons and also to spend time with Coop and Sally who, while the girl had recuperated from the bad fall she'd taken, hadn't been back to Calaveras County in months. Though Johnson's relationship with Evan and the rest of McFadden's had been fairly adversarial in the beginning, after a night of carousing with Brian plus subsequent visits to the Circle-Bar-Seven, the ice had been broken, they'd become friends, and they were all looking forward to visiting with the colorful rodeo legend and his equally spirited daughter.

"Hey, what's with the loafing? You got everything ready?" Adam, who had just come inside, asked Evan right as the harried kid finally plunked down on the couch. This time it was Evan rolling his eyes. Undoubtedly well aware of the underlying thread of teasing going on, all at his expense.

"I'm all set," he said confidently. "Ol' Coop won't catch me with my pants down this time."

"Whose pants are down?" Guthrie called out from halfway up the stairs. He and Ford had been up in Ford's room doing homework and both were apparently on their way back down. It might have been Friday but, with a busy weekend ahead of them, Hannah had insisted they finish theirs tonight.

The evening was winding down with all but Daniel and Brian present and accounted for, though the latter was likely just a few steps behind Adam, having been outside with their eldest checking the stock in the barn.

Crane figured Daniel would be home any time soon too. He and his band were only playing the first set at Pony's tonight, a good thing, since Daniel had to get up early with the rest of the family.

They might be on much friendlier terms with Coop nowadays but they weren't fools… Johnson would tear Evan a new one if he showed up late for rodeo school.

"Nobody's pants are down, Guthrie," Evan replied, shaking his head even as a toothy grin was starting to part his lips.

"It's just an expression," Ford added helpfully.

"Where's it come from?" The twelve year-old asked. Ford offered up the few theories behind the phrase's etymology which only piqued Guthrie's curiosity of course. And as their youngest's inquisition began in earnest, Crane grinned contentedly, realizing just how much he was actually looking forward to the weekend, tonight included.

There was no doubt that he missed Molly and looked forward to their usual Friday night phone calls. Catching each other up on life on the ranch and, in her case, the whirlwind existence of a veterinary intern. This time though he really didn't mind so much that she was away attending a conference. Tonight he was simply going to enjoy the rarity of a Friday evening spent with his entire family.

Despite how close the McFadden brothers were, more often than not, the beginning of the weekend inevitably found at least a few of them going in separate directions. They were all young men after all. Brian typically spent them in the company of a lady or a drink. More likely both. And Evan, at seventeen, would no doubt spend his doing what most boys did at that age… finding trouble and skirting it, along with his fellow cowboys, the football team or some other school friends.

These days Daniel was the least likely to be around. His band was getting better and better and they were in demand at the clubs in Murphys and beyond. And with that popularity came late nights with Daniel coming home, slipping into their room and collapsing into bed and unconsciousness without ever uttering a single word to Crane.

Crane had long surrendered to that reality and no longer bothered to wait up for his younger brother after his gigs like he'd used to do. Nowadays barely waking long enough to confirm that the kid had made it home safe before falling back to sleep.

He had to admit he missed the McFadden family's Friday night jam sessions with Daniel as their ringleader. And with that thought in mind, he moved to the couch, eagerly scooping up his guitar to tune it before Daniel got home.

Daniel's subdued, "Hey," as he entered and heavily set down his guitar case was so unexpected, Crane immediately felt his protective hackles rising and he set his own guitar aside as he got up to greet him.

After all, there'd been a reason for spending those nights waiting up for Daniel when he'd first started playing in bars. Even now the kid was often the youngest in those places and though he was tough as nails, he also had a distinct disadvantage in size if any drunken idiots decided to have a piece of him. Though Crane knew full well that the thugs at Ben Tobey's Alamo had been motivated by politics and greed when they'd beaten up Daniel earlier this year, the image of the kid's bruises had been permanently etched into Crane's memory. Easily resurfacing at times like these when things didn't seem quite right with his little brother.

"Everything all right?"

The question came from Adam whose concerned tone told Crane he was barking up the right tree.

"Yeah," The kid answered, his unusually pale face transforming into a bit of a smile as he added with a shrug, "Good enough for them to want us back tomorrow."

"Like there was any doubt," Brian piped up from somewhere behind Crane. Brian's comment elicited rousing agreement from the rest of the family as well as another small smile from Daniel. But Crane knew the band had been signed on already for the next couple of weekends. Besides, he was sure that how well the band performed tonight hadn't been exactly what Adam was driving at.

Moving in closer, Crane lightly grasped Daniel's neck drawing the kid's dark blue eyes to his own. "That's not exactly what Adam was asking," Crane said, catching Adam's approving nod in his periphery. "You okay?"

Daniel turned his gaze to Adam before meeting Crane's again and sighing. With two big brothers staring intently at him, Crane had no doubt the kid realized the jig was up.

Crane let go of him and Daniel lightly brushed a hand across his stomach, finally admitting, "I'm okay. Stomach's just feeling a bit dicey tonight."

Crane tried not to let his relief show. Little brothers with stomachaches he could handle. Had handled countless times over. Besides, at the kid's pronouncement, Hannah wouldn't be able to resist taking over.

Sure enough, making a beeline for Daniel, she gently touched the back of her hand to his forehead and his cheek, declaring, "He's a little warm." Crane winked at Adam then, getting a kick out of the adoring look their eldest wore whenever his bride played mom to one of his brothers.

"He's also right here in front of you," Daniel complained half-heartedly as he backed away from his sister-in-law's ministrations.

Hannah lightly swatted him then and the kid wisely stood still, this time allowing her free rein to check underneath his jaw line for swollen glands. "You barely touched your dinner," she said worriedly and, at that comment, Crane's mind flashed back to earlier that evening. Watching as Daniel pushed around Hannah's terrific garlic-mashed potatoes and the roast Brian had served up, instead of ploughing into the meal with his usual gusto. At the time he'd said he was just in a hurry to get to Pony's. Crane seriously doubted that now.

"I ate a little at Pony's," Daniel answered, immediately on the defensive. Crane wasn't at all surprised. At eighteen there was only so much coddling their middle brother was willing to take.

"I bet," Brian threw in. "So, just how many hot wings did you have?"

"A couple," Daniel replied glumly, looking guilty as charged.

"More like a couple dozen," Evan chimed in, no doubt delighted that Daniel had succeeded him as the night's victim of their family's torment.

Hannah threw up her hands in mock disgust and abandoned Daniel to his misery, tsk-tsking him as she did so.

Crane could only laugh when Adam tousled the kid's hair and then lightly smacked his belly. "Serves you right for passing up on my wife's home cooking."

"Oh, har-har," Daniel replied miserably, adding, "Jerk," to the raised middle finger aimed at Crane just barely visible courtesy of the moonlight coming through their bedroom window.

"Hey, I'm not the one who ate hot wings on an already upset stomach."

Daniel didn't answer him.

Crane couldn't really blame him. Truthfully, he felt bad for the kid. He'd lost count of how many times Daniel had gotten out of bed tonight. He was going to be exhausted by morning.

Despite the fact that it had only been about nine-thirty, Daniel had excused himself to bed soon after coming home. Crane had actually been a little disappointed in him, hoping his brother would gut it out – pun intended – like he must have done at Pony's and stayed up with his family for a while. Maybe even played guitar with Crane. Given the state he was in now though, Crane realized how selfish those thoughts had been.

Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do for him. They weren't little kids anymore and Daniel would no more want Crane to hold his hand than he'd want to climb into bed with him. All he could do was toss a little bathroom humor Daniel's way; tease him with some brotherly banter. Let him know he was there.

Well that and let him sleep in as late as possible. Plus look after Daniel's share of the chores before they hit the road. That was assuming the kid would be in any shape to join them.

He'd already let out the horses and filled up their outside feed bins by the time the rest of the brothers, minus Daniel, had caught up with him.

Having done the bulk of the morning chores, Crane had claimed first dibs on the shower and had dressed in clothes snagged from the laundry before finally making his way back to his room to check on his ailing brother.

It looked like Daniel hadn't moved a muscle from the time Crane had snuck out of the room until now. He still looked like he'd run a marathon though, with his hair plastered to his face and forehead and even to the back of his neck. Crane hoped all that sweat meant whatever fever the kid had suffered through last night had broken. Asleep curled up in the fetal position Daniel looked small and vulnerable and not at all like the compact and muscular athlete Crane knew him to be.

"Daniel? Come on, kid. Time to wake up." Crane spoke softly, allowing the hand he had resting on Daniel's back to be the catalyst to wake him.

"'S morning already?" The kid mumbled into his pillow.

"I'm afraid so."

"Shit," was all he said as he closed his eyes once more. Crane was about to suggest staying home but Daniel must have been using that brief respite to steel himself, opening his eyes just then and uttering, "Okay," before bracing a shaky arm beneath him and attempting to sit up. It took a second try before he actually succeeded and Crane's unsaid suggestion was looking more and more like a certainty. He still hadn't voiced it yet though. He'd give the kid a few more minutes for the cobwebs to clear first.

Daniel was sitting sideways on his bed now, bare feet planted on the floor. Hunched over so low his head hung below his shoulders. With one arm cradling what still had to be a tender stomach, his other rested on his thigh and it looked for all the world to be the only thing preventing him from toppling over onto the floor. Simply put, he looked like death warmed over and clearly knew it too, making no attempt whatsoever to hide how lousy he was feeling from Crane.

When Daniel straightened – more or less – and reached a hand out to Crane in a silent request to help him up, Crane decided it was time to speak his mind.

Gripping Daniel's hand he hauled him up to his feet, not letting go until he drew the kid in close enough to wrap a supportive arm around his back. "You realize you're in no shape for this, don't you?" It wasn't really a question.

Daniel immediately took offense, shaking his head and trying to pull away. But when that resulted in a hiss and him even doubling over a little, it made his, "I'm okay," sound awfully lame.

"Yeah, sure you are." On what planet? Crane wanted to ask. He bit his tongue though, knowing Daniel's threshold for sarcasm wouldn't be very high this morning.

"I just need a shower," Daniel continued his protest and Crane had to wonder just who he was trying to convince. Crane wasn't going to argue with him. Daniel was old enough to decide whether or not he was up to spending a day eating dust from the county fairground's rodeo ring and stock pens.

"Okay," he relented. "Come on then." Clasping the kid's neck, Crane proceeded to usher Daniel down the hall to the bathroom, explaining along the way that there weren't any chores awaiting him once he got downstairs. After promising to gather up some clothes for him to put on, Crane left Daniel to his own devices. Managing only a few strides toward their room before a soft voice halted him.

"Crane?"

"Yeah?"

The kid was looking ridiculously vulnerable again. Eyes shining with gratitude and relief, standing there all rumpled and disheveled in an oversized t-shirt and pajama bottoms. To Crane's mind's eye, Daniel looked all of eight years old and not eighteen.

"Thanks, bro."

It didn't help that one of the kid's arms had gravitated toward his belly again and he was absently rubbing it. The image was kicking Crane's big brother instincts into overdrive. Maybe that's why a long unused phrase he'd once reserved solely for Daniel had popped into his head. One he'd borrowed from a bald detective with a fondness for lollipops they used to watch Wednesday nights on TV. And one that easily rolled off his tongue now.

"Hey. Who loves you?"

Daniel's answering snort and exaggerated eye roll reminded Crane of why he'd stopped using the line years ago. The kid's muttered, "Cornball," though? Well it and the affectionate smile Daniel failed dismally to hide, somehow made using it again seem worthwhile.

Gratefully accepting the steaming mug of coffee Brian handed him, Crane took a swig then answered wryly. "Stubborn."

Poor Ford nearly choked on his O.J., which only made Evan and Guthrie laugh harder.

"Like that's something we didn't already know," Brian said with a smirk, lightly elbowing Crane in the side and damn near upending his coffee in the process.

"Hey, watch it, you jerk," Crane protested, shaking off the traces of the piping hot liquid from his fingers before sidling past Brian into the kitchen.

He was enjoying the familiar morning banter, relishing in it actually. Still, he couldn't shake that image of Daniel standing outside the bathroom door. Sick and hurting and… yeah. Looking downright fragile.

Setting down his mug, he leaned back against the counter and sighed heavily. That drew Adam's attention and when their eldest raised an eyebrow; it was all the incentive Crane needed to declare, "He's not up to this."

Crane might've announced it to the group but his gaze was fixed on Adam. He watched as the line of Adam's jaw tightened in the way it always did whenever he was mulling over something serious. He wasn't at all surprised when Adam asked, or rather stated as though for the record, "You think he should stay home."

"Who should stay home?"

Now that surprised Crane.

It was Daniel, rounding the bottom of the stairs and heading toward the table. Looking ten times healthier than he had less than an hour earlier, Crane almost wondered if his mind had been playing tricks on him. Well acquainted with the rejuvenating qualities of a good, long shower, he almost fell for Daniel's recharged and recovered act.

Almost.

Taking another sip from his mug, Crane couldn't help scrutinizing Daniel over its brim as he continued toward the group. Clean and refreshed, Daniel did look better. He wasn't as pale, nor was he flushed, but his eyes were still sunken, a reminder of the sleepless night he'd had.

Tired Crane could abide. It was Daniel's movement that had him doubting the kid's bravado though. He'd walked stiffly to the table and Crane was sure he caught a wince when Daniel pulled a chair out for himself. And most telling was his right arm's constant gravitation toward his belly. The kid's guts might have settled down but he was still hurting. Crane decided to let it go though; knowing the true test was going to come from Hannah.

Breakfast was being served.

Things got lively around the table, as was pretty typical when their house full of carnivores got anywhere near food. Biscuits and buns were being tossed around like hot potatoes and the banter, mostly at Evan's expense once again, was plentiful. Daniel even joined in, though he was quieter than usual.

With Ford's help and the efficiency of an assembly line, Hannah commenced serving up omelets on each plate presented to her while a large platter of bacon strips was circulating clockwise starting with Brian. And all the while Crane kept one eye on Daniel, who was showing none of his usual enthusiasm for the mouthwatering fare and was focusing solely on tearing apart a bun into bites small enough to feed a bird.

When it came time to hand over his plate to Ford, Daniel, looking decidedly ashen, baulked and Crane would've called him on it but Hannah spoke up first.

"Hang on, Daniel," she said, holding out a different plate with only a couple of boiled eggs and some slices of plain toast on it. "How about we trade, sweetheart?"

Crane could've kissed her for looking out for him like that.

Adam actually did; getting up from his end the table and walking along its length to do so. And then he slipped into the kitchen, collected the coffeepot and proceeded to pour more for anyone who wanted it.

Daniel thanked her for the plate and handed over his other one but Crane could tell that even that bland offering was testing his stomach's limits of tolerance. And that was without even attempting to eat any of it.

The last straw was Guthrie helpfully offering up the platter of bacon that Daniel had already rejected. The boy was practically waving it under Daniel's nose. And Crane made it out of his seat even before a decidedly green Daniel did. "Brian, bucket!" he yelled as he rounded the table and threw his arm around Daniel's already heaving back.

Concentrating on his miserable brother, Crane just barely registered Adam's curse, Hannah and Guthrie calling Daniel's name or the scraping of multiple chair legs against the floor. Despite everyone's concern, in the end, only he and Brian shepherded Daniel into the mudroom leading from the kitchen to the back porch. It was as far as they were able to get before the kid began puking his guts up into the bucket Brian had grabbed from beneath the kitchen sink and was supporting beneath him.

"Easy, easy, I gotcha." Crane soothed as Daniel's torment continued. Feeling utterly useless even as he rested one hand on Daniel's back while the other lightly supported his chest.

He'd been right all along. He sure as hell wasn't happy about it though.

"I'll take care of this," Brian offered once the relentless retching finally subsided. His sympathy was obvious as he remained on bucket duty, affectionately mussing Daniel's hair while the kid remained doubled over, white-knuckled hands now braced against his knees.

But then, because it was Brian, he added teasingly, "Try not to part with anything else until I get back," grabbing up the bucket and heading out the back door, presumably to hose it clean.

If the head of the family or anyone else besides Brian and Crane heard Daniel's whispered, "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," they didn't acknowledge it.

Brian did though. His laugh-tinged, "That's my boy," following him out the door and onto the back porch.

"All right," Guthrie answered reluctantly, his characteristic enthusiasm totally absent. Extricating himself out from under Daniel's arm, their youngest got up from the couch. He'd been curled up next to Daniel who, in his misery, had been pressed up against one of the armrests, his eyes either closed or staring into space and his knees tightly drawn up, ever since he'd had that nasty bout of nausea.

Turning back to Daniel, Guthrie said gloomily, "Bye, Daniel. See ya tonight."

"See ya, buddy," Daniel replied softly, meeting their baby brother's sorrowful gaze. "Thanks for the company."

"Any time," the twelve year-old offered, a hint of a smile showing now.

Crane took Guthrie's spot, sliding his arm behind Daniel's back and effectively reeling the kid into his shoulder, muttering, "Sorry," when the movement caused Daniel to suck in a breath. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just a twinge."

He had to be feeling incredibly awful. Daniel's resistance was down if he was willing to sit there huddled with Crane, the mirror image of the way he'd been with Guthrie. "I could stay, keep you company."

"Oh, come on. Not you too." Daniel pulled away, though he sounded more irritated than angry.

Crane knew he was referring to Hannah's earlier declaration to stay home with him. The kid had been mortified and Crane couldn't say he blamed him. Hannah may well be a bona fide McFadden now but she wasn't their mother. She was a girl and just about the last person Daniel wanted baby-sitting him while he was hurling his guts up. Fortunately Adam had stepped in; saving the kid from potentially hurting her feelings and informing all of them that Daniel was old enough to know whether he was in any shape to stay home alone.

Despite how lousy he was feeling, the McFadden who most enjoyed the limelight wanted no part of an audience right now. "Why can't you all just leave me to die in peace?" He moaned, tilting back over to the armrest and the pillow waiting for him there.

"Fine. So sue me for making the offer," Crane chuckled, conceding defeat. Patting the kid's arm, he got up but decided to make another one. "Do you at least want some help to our room?"

Daniel's eyes were closed already but he blinked them open slowly. "No, thanks. Think I'm gonna stay down here for a while." More like all day, Crane figured, given how weak he looked.

Evan came in the front door then and Crane realized everyone else must already be waiting for him outside. Their rodeo cowboy was looking anxious, though Crane could see the guilt in his eyes too. Poor kid was itching to get rolling but no doubt feeling bad about rushing off and leaving Daniel behind. Daniel must've noticed it too.

"Hey, man. Sorry I can't make it," he said, lifting his head up off of the pillow.

Evan smiled, shrugged his shoulders then added lightheartedly, "No problem, bro. It's one less person around to watch Coop chew me out when I land on my ass."

Crane was happy to hear Daniel laugh, even lightly. His, "Go knock 'em dead, cowboy," made leaving a little easier too.

For Evan too, by the looks of it. With Daniel's release, Evan was practically rocking on his boot heels. And, given the time, Crane realized it wasn't just because he was looking forward to his training day. They were running late and Evan was in danger of getting an ass-chewing from Coop well before he even got near a bronc.

"Okay, we're out of here," Crane said and Evan was back out the door like a shot.

Crane still took another minute or two to top up the water jug Hannah had given Daniel and return it to the table next to him. Admonishing the kid to heed Hannah and drink lots of fluids, Daniel rolled his eyes but promised he would. After making sure his brother knew his trusty bucket was within reach if he needed it again, Crane made his way to the door. Opening it he turned back to Daniel, already settled deeper into the couch, both arms wrapped around his midsection this time.

The image rattled him, just like the one from earlier that morning. Shaking off his unease, Crane told himself, not for the first time, it was only an upset stomach. And it wasn't like they were going to be away overnight.

Besides, there were phone-booths at the fairgrounds.

"Daniel?" He called out, feeling a twinge of guilt when the kid startled awake.

"Oh, for God's sake would you go already?"

Crane didn't bother apologizing, choosing to pull rank on him instead. "That phone rings, you answer it. You hear me?"

"I hear you, mom," he said tiredly, his mouth apparently more awake than he was.

"Good." There was no need to tell him what would happen if he didn't pick up the phone. They both knew Crane would let it ring until he did. Otherwise he'd head home to check on Daniel in person. After all, he'd done it before.

Originally the plan had been for everyone to pile into the truck but, knowing Daniel wasn't going to be using it, Crane decided to take the Jeep too. That way, if he decided to leave the fairgrounds, he wouldn't strand the rest of the family there.

Not that he'd have any reason to leave.

So, with Brian climbing in beside him, they had taken the lead ahead of Adam, Hannah and the rest of the kids.

"If you're worrying about bein' followed, I think I can identify the driver of that truck," Brian said dryly. Apparently he'd noticed Crane checking the rearview. Only Crane wasn't looking at the old International being driven by Adam. It was that big white house. Getting further and further from view. Empty but for the kid who'd looked weak as a kitten.

"Funny guy," Crane said half-heartedly.

"I try," was Brian's only response, no doubt realizing that Crane wasn't in the mood to engage in any brotherly games of verbal sparring.

Crane tried to ignore his twitchiness, forcefully keeping his rebellious boot on the accelerator. After all, he was being ridiculous, he knew. It didn't matter though. By the time he saw the intersection ahead of them where gravel was about to meet pavement, he'd swear his heart was beating loud enough for Brian to hear it.

He couldn't do this. "Hang on," he shouted over the sound of the tires crunching atop the gravel, suddenly veering off onto the shoulder and skidding to a stop.

"Are you fucking nuts?" Brian bellowed, righting himself in the seat and straightening his hat. He was looking at Crane like he didn't recognize him and it was no wonder. After all, Crane certainly wasn't the McFadden with "Reckless" as his middle name.

Crane didn't know what to say, knew his words were about to be drowned out by Adam's anyway. He settled for a weak, "Sorry," and hopped out of the Jeep.

Crane heard Adam's commanding, "Stay in the truck," before the resounding slam of its door. Adam had pulled up behind him so instead of meeting him in the middle, Crane headed further off to the side. He didn't want Hannah or the kids too close to Adam's wrath.

He decided he'd made the right call when Adam suddenly grabbed him by the collar, swinging him around and shaking him roughly. "What the hell were you thinking? You could've ditched the Jeep!"

Crane knew damn well his oldest brother's concern wasn't for the Jeep. There was no question the head of their family was livid though. Rightly so, Crane was willing to concede, so he had no intention of getting into a shouting match. But he wasn't going to back down either. Lightly wrapping his hands around the ones still gripping his shirt, Crane waited, trying to exude calm, until Adam relaxed too before offering his apology. "Look, I'm sorry. And you can bawl me out later all you want. But Evan needs to go and I need to get back home."

"What?" Adam let go, as though his strings had been cut.

Crane dropped his head then took a fortifying breath. Cutting his eyes back to Adam, he confessed, "It's just a feeling, all right." He wished his voice sounded steadier but he continued anyway. "I know it's crazy but… I just can't shake it."

Searching Adam's eyes for a hint of understanding, he knew he found it when Adam shook his head then reached across the space between them to grip Crane's neck. "I'm about the last person on earth who'd ever doubt your gut, kid. You know that," he said, the grief of Hannah's miscarriage reflected in his sad smile. The memory, though fading with time, was still a painful one. Though Daniel and Crane had made it home in time to save Hannah's life, she lost the baby. If Crane had acted on his concerns right away, had said something sooner, maybe…

"Hey, cut it out," Adam chided, smacking Crane lightly on the cheek this time. "We've got a little brother to check on."

Crane was still marveling at Adam's ability to know where his mind had wandered to so it took him a second to catch up to speed. Realizing what his brother was suggesting, this time Crane grabbed hold of Adam. "What? No! We don't need the whole cavalry," he argued. "Daniel's gonna flip out as it is when I show up there."

"You sure?" Adam was wearing that pensive look again.

Crane was sure. After all, Crane might be paranoid but even he realized this was just a barfy little brother. It wasn't like last time. No one's life was hanging in the balance.

When Daniel wasn't where he'd left him on the couch, Crane felt a surge of panic in his chest even as his brain was telling him the kid had probably just crawled off to bed. And then felt like a complete fool when he heard the words, "You're an idiot, you know that?" coming from the staircase.

Shoulders slumping in relief as much as embarrassment, Crane turned to his left to face his accuser. Daniel was perched on the stairs, about halfway up, a blanket draped around his shoulders and an all-too-familiar bucket sitting beside him. He looked just awful and Crane would've been willing to bet the ranch on two things: that Daniel's fever was back and that the bucket next to him wasn't empty.

Tossing the keys to the Jeep onto the nearest table, he climbed the stairs until he was level with Daniel. Reaching across him, Crane picked up the bucket one-handed and wrapped his other arm around the ailing kid's waist. By the looks of things, his poor brother hadn't been able to make it all the way up the stairs without getting sick again. He should have taken Crane up on his offer to help him up to their room before the family had left.

"Takes one to know one," Crane replied, realizing he sounded like a petulant ten year-old. Truthfully, he was pretty irritated. At himself for living up to his reputation as the family's worrywart and probably making Evan late. And at Daniel for calling him on it. Not to mention the kid getting himself into this predicament in the first place. Letting out his frustrations, with only a little warning, Crane hauled Daniel up to his feet. "What were you thinking anyway? Eating a crap-load of hot wings on an already upset stomach?"

Daniel didn't answer, unless you counted the grunt he made as he tried and failed to straighten up entirely. At the top of the stairs, Crane set the bucket down and aimed them toward their room, needing both hands to support the kid walking essential blind since he was curled over his own arms and the ones Crane had wrapped around him. When Daniel suddenly froze before breaking free and lurching toward the bathroom, Crane decided not to second guess his decision to come home any longer. Daniel might not be dying but he was presently sacrificing his soul at the altar of the porcelain god. And despite the kid's earlier protests, Crane knew full well that he didn't really want to suffer like this all alone.

By the time Daniel finished throwing up, he was spent, and the only resistance he offered came from gravity as Crane helped him to their room and into bed. After curling up on his side, Crane drew the quilt up over his brother, resisting the urge to tuck it around him. Daniel was probably too miserable to even notice his big brother treating him like Guthrie but Crane had a more practical reason too. Given the way he was still holding it, the kid's stomach wasn't done with him yet and, if he needed to make a dash for the john, Crane didn't want Daniel getting tangled up in his bedding.

Smoothing the quilt over his shoulder instead, Crane lifted the back of his hand to the kid's forehead. And didn't like what he found. "Damn," he sighed. Daniel was beyond warm. Deciding he needed a thermometer and to also take care of the bucket he'd abandoned at the top of the stairs, Crane reluctantly headed out the door.

At the sound of his name scraping out of Daniel's raw throat, he looked back over his shoulder at the lump underneath the covers. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"I didn't," he said softly.

Crane wasn't sure what he was talking about and hoped like hell Daniel wasn't becoming delirious. Returning to his brother, Crane sat down on the edge of the bed and asked him, "Didn't what?"

"Have any wings," he answered, his eyes shining too bright from fever and maybe even some unshed tears. "Tried to but couldn't." What the kid was saying didn't make any sense. Until Crane replayed the morning's events in his head and realized that Daniel had only mentioned a couple of wings. It had been Brian and Evan who'd brought up the "dozens" idea. Daniel just hadn't bothered to deny it. Crane sat back, not entirely sure what to think of the admission.

Coming to the conclusion that whether he'd had only one or a bunch of wings didn't really change the kid's current predicament, Crane decided he'd carry on with his plan to take Daniel's temperature and then do some cleanup while the kid slept.

"It's okay," he said gently, lightly running his fingers through Daniel's sweat-soaked bangs. "Try to get some sleep. I'll be right back."

"On both of you," Adam replied, understanding in his tone.

"Yeah," Crane admitted, his own voice shakier than he'd like. When he hadn't been sleeping, Daniel had spent much of the morning throwing up. And as many fluids as Crane had tried to get him to take in, they'd come back up tenfold and with a vengeance. His fever, last time Crane had checked, still hovered around 101, same as it had been when Crane had first taken his brother's temperature. High but not dangerously so. Aspirin might've helped, if the kid could've kept the damn pills down.

At one point, about two hours before Adam's call, Daniel's nausea had been so bad; he'd camped out in the washroom. When it had looked like that last bout had finally ended and Daniel had fallen asleep hunched up against the vanity, Crane had picked him up and carried him back to bed. The eighteen year-old either too tired or too sick to register that he was being carted around like a toddler. Crane had sat with him then, debating whether or not to call Dr. Mayer's office until remembering it was a Saturday and that no one would be there anyway. The only alternative being a trip into town to the county hospital. And, despite his reputation, even Crane recognized overkill when he saw it. Not to mention the fact that he was damn sure Daniel would've objected. Besides, the kid had been sleeping soundly ever since. Or at least Crane hoped he still was and that Adam's call hadn't awoken him. With that thought, Crane decided to cut it short. "Listen-" he started.

"You better go check on him."

"Yeah, I should," Crane sighed before adding, "Tell Evan to hang in there." Apparently, according to Adam, Coop's reconciliation with his daughter hadn't exactly brought out a warm, fuzzy side in the man at all.

"You too," Adam said, support and sympathy reaching through the phone line.

"We will."

"And, Crane?"

"Hmm?" Crane's thoughts were already elsewhere, specifically in the room he shared with his closest brother.

"Good call, kid."

They said their goodbyes and, heartened by his big brother's approval, Crane made his way back up the stairs.

Daniel hadn't budged. Though out like a light, he didn't exactly look comfortable either, that one arm pressed tightly against his side and his knees pulled up again. Still.

His color was better, Crane thought as he approached the bed. Not nearly as pale. Damn, though. Did Daniel feel hotter? Reluctant to wake him, Crane decided not to retake his temperature until the kid showed the inevitable signs of life again. Silently promising to be right back, Crane went back downstairs, putting on another pot of coffee and slapping some peanut-butter and jelly between two slices of bread. Though he knew he wasn't sick, he hadn't had much of an appetite either. Cleaning up after his bile barfing little brother had a way of killing his desire to eat.

While he waited for the coffee to finish percolating, he put in a quick call to Mike, one of the guys in Daniel's band, letting him know that their lead singer wouldn't be in any shape to be on stage tonight. That task accomplished, he made his way back to the kitchen. Mechanically eating his sandwich as he leaned against the counter, he was startled by the shrill ring of the phone once again. He knew it wouldn't be Mike and, since he'd just spoken with Adam, he wondered who it could be. Contemplating ignoring it Crane ultimately decided not to risk worrying Adam if it was him again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, babe."

It was Molly and, at the sound of her melodic voice, Crane's heart felt infinitely lighter. She'd called him on a whim, knowing that Crane was supposed to be away with the rest of the family but deciding to try the house anyway. It was after four o'clock back east and she was on a break in between speakers at the conference.

Though he told her why he was home, Crane let her do most of the talking, chattering on about the interesting speakers and topics covered already since the day before. Besides, her weekend was proving to be a lot more interesting and definitely more palatable than Crane's. He could hear her excitement across the line and he was genuinely happy for her. Though, if Crane was honest with himself, the fear that Molly was never coming back home to northern California was always present in his mind. And heart.

She'd hinted a few times about him joining her in New York and, though he'd love to check out Cornell and visit her there, his home was Calaveras County. Period. And never was that more evident than on a day like today.

Speaking of which… "God, I hate to do this," he interrupted as Molly started to switch subjects from one speaker to another. He'd just checked his watch though and realized it had been about forty minutes since he'd last looked in on Daniel. "I really should go take Daniel's temperature. Last time I checked, he felt hotter."

"He has a fever?" She asked and then suddenly it was Dr. McGraw on the other end of the line and not Crane's long-distance girlfriend. Crane proceeded to answer the questions she rattled off, feeling more and more uneasy as he did so. Daniel's ongoing lack of appetite, the upset stomach that started at one end and shifted to the other. His elevated temperature and the duration he'd had all of those symptoms. The stomach pain had her most concerned, that it was bad enough that Daniel always seemed to have an arm pressed against it. "Babe, I don't want to alarm you but have you considered this might be appendicitis?"

"What? No," Crane answered, his own guts beginning to churn at the suggestion. "But, it's his belly hurting," he argued. "Not the right side."

Crane heard her take a deep breath before she responded. "Oh, Honey. Typically the pain starts out generalized, mid-abdomen, before it localizes to the right iliac fossa."

Crane was in denial, fear making him doubt the girl's knowledge. "Since when does an equine vet know so much about appendicitis?" He asked, knowing the words were coming out too harsh.

One of the things he loved most about Molly McGraw was her ability to take everything in stride. That, and her patience and kindness toward the anxious families of her patients. Apparently her jackass of a boyfriend was exempt from that practice though since she snapped back with, "Since my roommate sophomore year presented with the same symptoms and ended up rupturing hers."

Her words blindsided him and Crane stood there holding onto the receiver, frozen in place. He knew he needed to apologize. But he needed to get to Daniel first. "Moll," he started but she abruptly cut him off.

"Go," she said. The tenderness was back, thankfully, just in that single word. "Go check on him. I'll give you a call tonight."

Aiming for their room, Crane almost missed seeing his brother lying on the floor of the bathroom as he passed it. God, it was like Hannah's collapse all over again. "Danny?" Kneeling behind the curled up form, Crane reached for him, drawing his hand back in shock when he made contact. Daniel was burning up.

Seeing that Daniel's eyes were open but glassy, Crane gently worked his arms around him, dragging the kid away from the vomit pooling in front of him, and pulling him up against his shoulder.

Daniel cried out and Crane almost let go, afraid he'd hurt him somehow. He held fast though, knowing Daniel was going to need his help anyway to get out of the room. His face just inches above Daniel's, Crane stroked the drenched hair from the kid's blood-shot eyes, trying to get him to focus. "Danny? What happened, kid?"

"I- Crane?" His confusion was painful to witness, made even more so when Daniel breathlessly asked, "Where?"

"It's okay, you're okay," Crane whispered, drawing his disoriented little brother in closer. "We've gotta get you out of here, all right?"

Still out of it, Daniel was at least registering Crane's words. Nodding his head determinedly, the kid worked one arm around Crane's back and hung on.

"Atta, boy," Crane said, knowing he was rambling. Crane didn't waste any time, his grip on Daniel tightening as he planted his feet. "Okay, let me do all the work," he told him and then, hugging the kid even closer to take on the bulk of Daniel's weight, he straightened to stand.

Daniel outright screamed this time, the sound so horrific, Crane knew it was going to haunt his dreams for a long time to come. "No, stop," Daniel begged, "Stop it, please," and despite his better judgment, Crane gave in.

Lowering them both, careful to avoid the cooling pool of bile, Daniel melted against him, sliding down against Crane's chest onto the cold vinyl tiles and curling up once more into a ball. But this time Daniel's forearm was clearly pressed up against his right side.

This couldn't be happening.

Reaching around Daniel's hip, Crane gripped Daniel's hand, intending to pull it away. "No, don't," Daniel gasped and Crane felt an irrational surge of anger he desperately tried to hold at bay.

"Damn it, Daniel. Why didn't you tell me the pain shifted?" he snapped anyway. Excruciating pain was excruciating pain and Daniel probably wasn't even consciously aware of the shift from one part of his abdomen to another. But logic didn't matter right now. Crane was acting on fear.

Abruptly releasing his brother's hand, Daniel recoiled, crying out once again and writhing in place and Crane cried out too before murmuring, "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," and curling over his little brother protectively even as he knew that last surge of pain was his own fault. He didn't know how he knew it or where the recollection came from, hell, it might've even been high-school anatomy but, as soon as Daniel screamed like that, Crane knew he was the cause.

That one of the sure signs of appendicitis was extreme pain after a sudden release of pressure on the abdomen. He even knew that it was called "rebound tenderness".

This really was happening.

He needed to call an ambulance.

Daniel was out of his head in agony and, after what had just happened, Crane was afraid to touch him. Still, when the kid started banging his head against the floor in what Crane knew had to be to combat the rhythm of the throbbing pain in his side, Crane reached out and cupped both sides of Daniel's flushed face, holding him steady and praying he'd be able to get through to him.

"Daniel, I need you to look at me. Look at me, kid," he insisted, hating that he'd raised his voice but knowing he needed to in order to break through the haze of pain. As much as it sickened him to even consider it, Crane was going to have leave his little brother long enough to call an ambulance. But first he had to make sure Daniel understood that he wasn't being abandoned and that he better not try to follow Crane down those treacherous stairs. Those dark blue eyes weren't even acknowledging Crane though and he was beginning to fear that he'd have to leave him anyway. "Danny, please," he whispered, lowering his forehead to Daniel's. "Please. Come on."

He held his breath as he felt the shift beneath him. Felt Daniel curling further into him. Still supporting Daniel's head, Crane pulled back slightly. The clarity he saw allowed Crane to breathe again, even as the fear reflected in the kid's tear-filled eyes nearly broke him. He didn't have the luxury of dwelling on either though, gently informing Daniel what his suspicions were and that he had to go downstairs and call an ambulance. Crane felt his brother's reflexive grab for his shirt even as Daniel nodded in understanding, the word, "Okay," scratching its way out of his tender throat.

Promising he'd be right back, it suddenly occurred to him that the 9-1-1 operator might ask him how long the pain had been in Daniel's side. As he carefully lowered Daniel back to the floor, he grabbed a towel to pillow his head then asked him the question. Crane wasn't really surprised when Daniel said he didn't know.

"Daniel, they're gonna ask," Crane was sure of it. "Try to remember, kiddo," he said patiently.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Daniel panted out, "What. Time. Is. It?" And Crane died a little inside realizing how hard the kid was working; trying to get past the pain, just to help him with this.

He almost dropped the subject but realized he was being the coward here and Daniel deserved better for his effort. Crane answered, looking at his watch and telling him, "It's almost two o' clock."

Daniel's lashes fluttered a few times before he opened them fully, his watery gaze focused on Crane. "Two. Maybe three hours."

Oh, fuck.

They didn't have time to wait for an ambulance. Daniel needed a hospital now.

Crane had driven at a crawl to begin with, until they'd hit pavement. Even being careful, the potholes on the gravel roads had been agony and, with Daniel's hands clutching his abdomen, Crane had been genuinely afraid that his brother might actually fall out of the vehicle.

By the time they pulled up in front of the hospital, Daniel was practically coiled in Crane's lap. He was still conscious but only barely and, knowing that he'd have to move him again, Crane found himself guiltily wishing his little brother would pass out.

Cradling Daniel's head in his hands, Crane managed to ease his thigh out from under him. Settling Daniel across both seats, he climbed out and around to the passenger side. He leaned on the horn first, praying someone would hear it and come to their aid. "We're here, kiddo. The hospital," he told him, hoping the news would bring his brother at least a modicum of relief. Daniel didn't answer and Crane didn't wait for one, going ahead and working his arms around the kid's back and under his knees before picking him up once again. The sound that came out of Daniel's throat was so raw and so spent, Crane almost would've preferred another scream. Almost.

Trying his best to keep Daniel's waist bent, Crane cradled him against his chest and headed for the doors. Two men and a woman, all dressed in white, met him there and with them they had a blessed gurney.

"I think it's his appendix," Crane declared as the men helped ease Daniel onto his back. Before Crane could stop him, one of them tried to push Daniel's legs down and, dear God, did Daniel shriek again. Shredding Crane's soul as the writhing kid abruptly rolled onto his side and promptly threw up, nearly falling off the gurney if the woman hadn't already been raising its rails.

"Daniel, it's okay. They'll help you, you're gonna be okay," Crane called to him as the medical staff raced him into the Emergency department. A doctor was waiting for them and all four continued through a set of swinging doors Crane knew forbade his entry. He pushed through them anyway.

Voices were talking all at once as Crane approached, staying out of the way but desperate to go to Daniel. Even as they were readying to shift the kid onto the waiting bed, monitors and leads were being attached to him. Words like elevated temperature, emesis, rapid pulse and abdominal pain were being rhymed off to another doctor who'd joined them. One dressed in surgical scrubs. And one Crane was sure he recognized.

While the woman, a nurse Crane realized, rambled off readings from the monitors, the men were relaying what Crane had told them as they'd rushed into the hospital. All well and good but, no one was doing a damn thing to relieve Daniel's pain.

When he heard the words, "On three", Crane stepped forward; knowing that yet another move would be sheer hell for his little brother. Daniel's scream sounded more like a ragged sob this time and Crane couldn't take it anymore. Slipping in amongst the white uniforms and clutching his struggling brother's hand, Crane promised Daniel that everything was going to be okay. Soon. That the pain would stop. Soon. Though the vow was meant to comfort Daniel, Crane glared at the man obviously in charge as he spoke it, willing the words to be true.

"Sir, you can't be in here. You have to-" The other doctor started to say but, before Crane could protest or beg, the older man, the familiar one, stepped in.

"No, let him stay," he said and it came out very much like a command. Dismissing the two men who'd helped with the gurney, he addressed Crane next, asking, "Son, have you been with him since the symptoms started?"

"I think so, yes," Crane said a little hesitantly, not really sure. But, at that affirmative, the doctor continued to question him. And, despite how stressed and terrified Crane was, all that time he'd spent with Doctor Molly McGraw must've rubbed off on him. He answered everything in detail… times, temperatures, frequency of the nausea. Everything was there, imprinted in his brain and, by the time Crane was done, the doctor told him that Molly's suspicions were quite likely right.

"Then why aren't you helping him?" Crane asked, trying not to sound disrespectful. But as Daniel desperately tried to twist away from another surge of pain, Crane broke. "Please. You have to give him something. He's in agony for God's sake," he insisted, his voice cracking with the weight of his words.

"And we will," the doctor assured him. "Just a few more tests and we'll be able to administer some morphine."

Crane could've cried out with relief. Until the doctor moved in between him and his brother and began addressing Daniel directly. As the man introduced himself to his patient, Crane felt his knees buckle. God. It was Hannah's surgeon. The man who'd saved her life.

He must've faded out a little at the realization, the continuing déjà vu of this day simply too much to fathom. He was shocked back into reality though by Daniel's sudden iron grip and the surgeon's compassionate words. "This'll likely hurt a great deal, son. But it'll help me confirm what's going on."

His little brother was beyond speech but not comprehension. Nodding his head, Daniel wrapped his fingers tighter around Crane's and squeezed his eyes closed, insistent tears still leaking through. It only took a second for the surgeon to press his fingers into Daniel's abdomen and let go, but the anguished cry from Daniel's wrecked throat had to have aged both brothers twenty years. He rolled onto his side again, the awkward position and vice-like grip nearly breaking Crane's hand. Crane didn't care. Whatever it took to give the kid some relief.

"All right," the doctor said, almost to himself. Adding, "Sorry, son," and lightly patting Daniel's shoulder. "We'll have you fixed up soon."

"Doctor." The nurse slipped in next to him, holding out a clipboard for him to read. He took a step back to take a look, though seemed to only scan what was there before handing the clipboard over to the other doctor. Whatever information it provided spurred them into action.

"Okay, folks, let's prep him. We're going in." He was using that authoritative voice again and, even as Crane's mind caught up to the daunting realization of what was about to happen, he took comfort in the surgeon's cool and confident bearing.

The doctor approached Daniel's bedside again, meeting Crane's eyes with what was a clear invitation for Crane to stick close. That wasn't in question anyway. It was going to take a pry bar or the promised morphine to separate the brothers' hands.

"Daniel," the doctor said, using his name for the first time. "We're going to give you something now for the pain, all right?"

Gritting his teeth, Daniel still wasn't speaking but he nodded his head vigorously against the pillow beneath him, his gratitude spilling from his eyes as the nurse moved in and injected his IV line with the drug.

"Good," the man continued. "Then how about we get rid of that troublesome appendix?"

Crane saw the flash of fear in Daniel's eyes but there was no need for big brother to step in and coax him into the surgery. Nodding again, this time Daniel did open his mouth to speak. "Please," scraping past his parched lips and threatening to help spill the tears brimming in Crane's eyes.

The surgeon smiled warmly before assuring his patient, "You'll be feeling better in no time." Catching Crane's eye, he said regretfully, "I can only give you a minute." Then, referring to the other doctor who'd taken a back seat since the surgeon's arrival, he added, "Dr. Elliot will brief you outside on what we're dealing with here."

Crane swallowed hard, barely squeaking out his thanks.

The surgeon nodded abruptly then left the room, presumably to scrub for the surgery. Dr. Elliot excused himself too, informing Crane he'd be right outside and leaving Crane alone with his little brother. Alone, but for the nurse respectfully fading into the background but keeping an eye on Daniel's vital signs.

Attempting to take in a calming breath before schooling his features to hide his heartache, Crane turned back to Daniel. The morphine was already starting to kick in, thank God. The kid still looked like he'd been through hell but the excruciating agony was beginning to fade from his features, most notably those expressive eyes.

Bending low over the bed, Crane adjusted their grip, lacing his long fingers through Daniel's. Drawing their entwined hands to his chest, desperate to impart strength with them and not the fear and guilt eating away at his soul. "They're kicking me out of here," he said, the words thick on his tongue.

"I know. 'S okay." Daniel answered roughly. Crane smiled sadly, lightly carding the fingers of his free hand through Daniel's bangs. The act was soothing them both and Crane watched in relief as the dark lashes began to blink rapidly, releasing a few remnant tears as the kid valiantly fought sleep.

He sounded so very young and scared and Crane could feel a sob working its way up his own throat. He held it in check though failed dismally at preventing his tears. Letting his head lightly rest against Daniel's temple, he hoped it would hide his traitorous eyes. And offer the comfort of a big brother Daniel wasn't yet too old to need.

God, how Crane wished Adam was here. Right now Daniel needed the unwavering strength their stoic eldest could always offer. He sure didn't need the big brother who was just one set of swinging doors away from being a sobbing basket-case.

But, there was no way Adam was going to be here before the surgery. Hell, he didn't even know they were at the hospital. All Crane could do was promise Daniel the next best thing.

Collecting himself, Crane drew back just enough so that he could whisper into Daniel's ear. "Go to sleep," he gently ordered, lips brushing lightly against Daniel's hair before adding, "Adam'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

He felt Daniel's nod beneath him, took it as his signal to leave. Only, as he began to straighten up, apparently his kid brother had other plans. That iron grip was back.

"Kiddo?"

"You too," he breathed. It wasn't really a question, though Daniel was looking at him so imploringly Crane could've taken it that way. Crane understood it for the demand it was though. And that gave him the strength to walk away.

The little brother that Crane had let suffer through the agony of appendicitis for almost an entire day; that he'd almost abandoned, still wanted him there when he woke up after surgery. There was only one answer.

"Try and keep me away."

Startled, Crane jerked in his seat, relieved that neither the noise of the chair-legs scraping along the floor or the action had disturbed the steady rise and fall beneath his palm.

"Stop what?" Crane tried to sound innocent but it was useless, the head of their family was wearing his "I don't buy it" look. Adam had gone out to the waiting area to check in with the rest of the family and just now walked back in to Daniel's room while Crane was lost in the bottomless well of his thoughts.

"Playing the "if only" game you're such an expert at," Adam replied knowingly. Pulling out the chair he'd vacated earlier and flipping it around, he straddled its seat and rested his forearms on its back. Looking pointedly at Crane beside him, he softly added, "It's a game you can't win."

There was no point in Crane denying where his thoughts had been dwelling, once again his big brother knew him too well. Though Daniel was right there in front of them, soundly asleep in a hospital bed and blessedly free of pain and infection, Crane still couldn't shut off his brain. His brief conversation with Dr. Elliot before Daniel had the surgery was playing in a continuous loop in his head. The man's solemn "We'll do everything we can" in response to Crane's "What if it's ruptured?" repeating over and over to the point where Crane was hard-pressed to choke anything down other than the coffee he'd been drinking.

Daniel could've died.

"You're doing it again."

And Adam was scolding him again. The strong arm resting across his shoulders lessened the impact though, as did the warmth in his voice.

Crane dropped his head and tried to shake off his runaway thoughts, knowing Adam would not tolerate them.

"Hey." Adam squeezed his neck. "C'mon. Look at me."

Crane did. Finding no condemnation, only affection and understanding reflected in his brother's dark brown eyes.

"You saved his life. Got him here with time to spare, remember?"

It didn't matter how resolute Adam sounded, or that he was repeating what the surgeon had told them after the operation, Crane's guilty conscience wasn't willing to accept anyone's praise. "I let him suffer all day through an appendicitis attack," he snapped.

"And I walked out the door and left him alone without giving it a second thought," Adam replied, his own regret ringing loud and clear. "You really want to do this? I told you already you're not gonna win."

"But that was different," Crane tried to argue, unwilling to relinquish any blame. "Before it got so bad," he explained. "You don't get it, Adam. You didn't see him… curled up on the floor in the bathroom, hurling his guts up," Crane looked at Daniel then, his ordeal over, free of sickness and fever and free of pain. Smoothing down the light blanket beneath his hand, he closed his eyes. "And all I did was haul him back to bed," the self-loathing choking his words. "Let him suffer some more."

Even though he'd told himself he wasn't going to cry, Crane could've broken down right then and there. He'd managed to keep his head together when Daniel had been wheeled away from him. Long enough to call the sheriff's department and beg someone to track down the family at the fairgrounds. But when Adam had arrived in Ed Sykes' cruiser, he'd damn near lost it, falling into Adam's arms like he was twelve years old again and the world had just come crashing down.

"Hey, that's enough," Adam said, the grip he had on Crane's neck demanding his attention. "You couldn't have known it was his appendix," he insisted. "And neither could I."

Crane shook his head, still unable to exonerate himself.

"I sure didn't."

It was Daniel. Awake. Barely. His voice rough and sounding too damn weak but, to Crane's ears, as beautiful as one of the kid's melodies.

"Hey, you," Crane said through a shaky smile. It came from his heart but was barely staying afloat atop the churning emotions beneath it. Like grief and guilt.

"Hey," Daniel whispered, clumsily lifting his hand in search of Crane's. Crane met him half way and threaded his fingers through Daniel's, squeezing them together.

Adam had risen and quickly moved opposite Crane. Smoothing his hand through Daniel's hair, he spoke softly, using a familiar tone reserved mostly for Guthrie these days. "How are you doing, kiddo?"

"'M tired," Daniel sighed, his dark lashes fluttering closed adding testimony to that fact.

"I bet," Adam said gently, throwing a wink Crane's way as their little brother sunk more deeply into his pillow.

It looked like Daniel was headed back into oblivion but, blinking rapidly, he fought the pull. Sleepy eyes suddenly intent on Crane, he breathed, "Pain's gone."

Crane laughed softly. It was either that or cry. "Good, good. That's good," he rambled, returning in kind when Daniel squeezed his hand this time. It was no use. The tears were starting to come, clogging his throat and ready to make their escape. And what made that all so much worse was knowing that he hadn't been able to hide them from the sick kid lying in front of him. Those exhausted eyes were scrutinizing him and Crane knew he was falling short, knew he couldn't measure up to Adam's gentle strength.

"Adam?"

"Yeah, Danny-boy?"

Oh, no. No, no, no. Crane watched the subtle body-language. Saw those dark blue eyes meet brown. Recognized the kid's head-tilt toward the door for what it was. Knew the instant Daniel was kicking out their oldest brother. And that was just plain wrong.

"Okay," Adam said and Crane could hear the reluctance in his voice. Bending closer to Daniel, he easily planted a kiss in his hair then straightened and announced he was going to check in with the family, let them know Daniel was awake.

That widened Daniel's eyes and he promptly asked, "How did it go with Coop?"

"Real good," Adam replied, obvious pride in Evan's success shining through. His expression shifted then, eyes sparkling with humor even as their corners crinkled into a wince. "The waiting room's a good place for Evan… it's close to the nurses' station and a steady supply of ice packs for his ass."

Daniel winced too then broke out into a genuine, albeit tired, grin. It was the sign Crane figured Adam was waiting for before being truly willing to leave the room. Lightly patting Daniel's cheek and promising he'd be back soon, Adam left the room. But not before pausing next to Crane, drawing him in close and whispering, "Stop beating yourself up," into his ear.

"He's right, you know," Daniel said quietly, as Crane watched their eldest leave.

The kid's eyes were barely at half-mast again and Crane wasn't about to argue with him. So instead he admonished him, "Don't fight it, Daniel. Get some sleep before Adam comes back in here with all the animals."

Daniel smiled at that and Crane knew, no matter how beat Daniel was, he was looking forward to being surrounded by his entire family. Even the big brother that had let him down so spectacularly, he sighed.

"Hey. It was just an upset stomach," the stubborn kid persisted.

"No it wasn't." Mule-headedness ran in the family.

"But it was to me," Daniel said, getting too worked up for Crane's liking. "I didn't know it was anything worse," he swallowed hard; his now welling eyes boring into Crane's. "Until it hurt too bad to know anything at all."

"I'm so sorry, Danny." The grief and guilt were eating Crane up inside. But that was okay too. He deserved this.

"Shut up, you idiot," Daniel snapped, abruptly releasing Crane's hand. His tone softened though at what Crane knew was the shocked expression he was wearing. "I'm trying to thank-you for coming home; for sticking it out with me." Crane tried to interrupt him then but the weary kid wasn't quite finished yet. "And for being such a neurotic, overprotective big brother."

Chuckling lightly at that, Crane reached out and thumbed away Daniel's exhausted tears before swiping away one of his own. Smiling warmly, feeling the weight of his guilt lift from his shoulders, he said, "You're welcome… I think."

"And stubborn. I forgot stubborn," Daniel murmured, his eyes completely shut now.

"Looked in a mirror lately?"

Daniel's only answer was the smile lingering on his lips as his breaths settled into a deep, easy rhythm. One more familiar to Crane than his own.

Sleep seemed like an awfully good idea. Folding his arms on the edge of Daniel's bed, Crane laid his head down upon them and closed his eyes, waiting for it to come.

It wouldn't. He still couldn't shut off his damn brain. Not until he reached over and slipped his little brother's hand beneath his. Being neurotic and overprotective wasn't always such a bad thing.

- Fin -