In the Intensive Care room, Charlie lay on a bed, hooked to varying machines. With the blood, ash and dirt wiped from his face, he looked in a much better way then before, even with wires and the like taped to his pale form. Tubes up his nose helped him breathe without an oxygen mask, and made him look much better in himself. Breathing softly as he rested, his chest rose and fell in a regular pattern. Scarring ran across his chest and belly, down to his waist. He was dressed in a pair of loose pants over protective underpants to prevent any messes from occuring.

A doctor strode across the wall, and spotting the woman, made haste towards her. "Ahh, there you are. Your brother is okay, aside from a few broken bones and some scarring. He's been asking for you, I think. He kept asking for "Rah-Rah", or so it sounded. His notes stated he's severly autistic, and that he has a severe speech impediment." He turned to her, guiding her towards the I.C.U, where Charlie's bed was being wheeled out to be placed in another room. His eyes were open now, and he looked terrified and alone. Seeing his sister, he began to cry for her, his slurred, thick speech incoherent to most people.

"Rah! Rah! Wan Rah!" He tried to get to her, not liking being on the bed and away from his sister if she was near.

"Sit with and talk to him, it'll be good to keep him calm. But it smells like he needs cleaning. Do you need a nurse for it?"