|Disclaimer: I hereby tell the world that I do not own Numb3rs. If I did I wouldn't be writing this fic. I'd be pushing the real owners to carry out my storyline wishes. :) Please do not sue me.|
| Rating: K+ |
|Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Drama |
|Characters: Don Eppes, Charlie Eppes, Alan Eppes, Amita Ramanujan & Robin Brooks|
|A/N: Originally titled 'Push'. Also, this is my first Numb3rs fic, so er… be nice? But do review. :) Reviews are like food to me.|
|Spoilers: No real spoilers.|
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No Regrets
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Life goes on. True. Not true. At least not for the victims or their family members. Alan Eppes knew this, he knew this better than anyone. No, life stops. Movement freezes and seconds turn into eternities. Was it okay to breathe? He didn't know. He didn't know when he found out about his wife's illness, he didn't know now. Now, many years later. His boys had grown, gotten stronger. He wasn't so sure if he'd evolved with them. He didn't feel strong. How could he feel strong while his legs were shaking? How could he feel strong when he couldn't even get a lungful of air. Precious air. He'd been here, he'd done this. He'd gone through the pain of not knowing, gone through the pain of knowing. He'd survived the worry, but didn't know how. How could he possibly survive this time? Again. He didn't dare look at his oldest son, afraid of what his eyes might encounter. Please not again.
He sat down, in the chair closest to his son's hospital bed. Alan finally dared a glimpse.
"Donnie," he whispered. He suddenly felt the urge to say more, but couldn't think of any words. There were no right words. Instead he took his son's left hand into his own two hands. The IV disturbed him a little, maybe even more so than the nasal cannula. Both were nothing compared to the injury hidden by the hospital gown and the blanket layers. He rubbed the side of Don's wrist with his thumb. To console his son, to comfort himself.
"I'm here," he added. Talking helps, the nurses had told him. Alan realized he wasn't good at this. He didn't know what to say, what to do, he just didn't know. He felt lost and helpless and the one-sided conversation he was struggling to continue wasn't helping him a bit. Not at all.
"I don't know if you can hear me." He stopped talking for a moment and focused on his son's pale complexion. He wished Don would wake up and tell him it was just a graze. Just a graze, nothing to worry about. He realized that it wasn't just a graze. "I hope you can hear me."
Don was going to be fine. He had to be. Both of his sons were going to be fine.
"I need you to wake up and tell me you're going to be fine," he explained to his comatose son. "For me, it's a selfish thing. I don't know if I can take this any longer. I can't take the waiting, Donnie. I can't." He was begging his son to wake up. He found it hard to breathe.
"Charlie is going to be okay," he continued, "he hit his head. Nothing serious, that's what the doctor said. He's resting at home."
Another pause. "Amita's with him. You don't have to worry." I don't have to worry. A knock on the door interrupted his one-way conversation. The door was open, but she had the decency to knock before she entered the room.
"Robin," he greeted the visitor.
Before he could add anything, she handed him a cup of coffee. "How is he?" she asked as she sat down in the other chair, cradling her own cup of coffee.
"No change," he admitted, "the doctors don't understand why he isn't awake yet."
Robin just nodded before taking a sip from her coffee. Lousy coffee on a depressingly bad day. The joys of life.
For a while they just sat there in complete silence, figuring the other's company was enough. Robin wanted to smile reassuringly and tell Alan, who had definitely treated her like a daughter, that Don would be okay. It was the truth, right? She didn't want to consider the alternative. Smiling was too much of an herculean effort though. She'd tried it, but she couldn't. She truly wanted to reassure Alan, but the real truth was that she needed to reassure herself first. It was as 'simple' as that. Or maybe it wasn't simple at all.
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Amita found Charlie lying on the couch in the Craftsman's house. As she came closer, she noticed the youngest Eppes wasn't sleeping. His eyes were wide open and he seemed lost in thought.
"Charlie?" she interrupted his ponderings. When he didn't respond, she tried again, "Charlie?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you sure you don't want to rest in an actual bed?" She didn't understand the attractiveness of that particular couch.
"No. Don't need to rest, feel fine."
Amita didn't push the matter, she believed him. After all, it was in fact a mild concussion and he'd rested for the last two days. For a moment she considered his reply. It was an answer Don would give as well. Don and Charlie were so much more alike than either of them knew. Bringing up his brother didn't seem like a good plan, but she needed to know. "Okay. Are you going to the hospital today?"
"No." His incredibly short answer surprised her a little.
"No? Is your head still bothering you?"
"My head's fine."
"Then why-"
"Not going, Amita."
She wondered where their conversation had taken a turn for the worse.
"Are you telling me that you're angry?" She could read him, read him like no one else could, except for maybe his dad and brother.
"No. Yes, maybe I am." He, of all people, was being irrational. No one would understand, he figured. Still, what he was feeling was anger even if he didn't have the right to be angry.
"Charlie, Don just saved your life." There, she said it.
"I know that." He felt his concussion coming back with a vengeance. Somewhere deep down he knew he was overreacting. He knew he wasn't seeing the whole picture. For now, he just wanted to rest and clear his head. He closed his eyes.
There were moments she didn't understand him at all.
"Well, I am going."
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"I'll talk to him," Alan offered. That was all Amita needed to hear to know things were going to be okay again, hopefully soon. Alan had always been the voice of reason. His voice carried far and the brothers knew that listening to that voice was the best course of action. She just hoped that his voice would be enough to talk some sense into Charlie.
"You should get some rest too, take care of yourself. You've been here longer than I have. I'll stay with him," Robin interrupted his line of thought.
"I'm staying too," Amita added. Father and son needed some space to talk. She understood. Right now, she would stay at the hospital, with Don, who she'd come to see as a brother. At least until Alan had managed to talk to Charlie about all of this.
Seeing his slight hesitation, Robin added, "We'll call if there's any change."
It was a given, but he still wanted to hear them say it. Call me and I'll hurry back here. Before leaving, he went over to his son's bed, leaned forward and placed a kiss on top of Don's forehead. "I'll be back before you know it, Donnie." Sadly, still no response.
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TBC
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A/N: I haven't even told you guys yet what happened to Don and Charlie. =p
This story won't be very long and yes, all will be explained. I will try to update soon, but I do have to mention that my life is kind of hectic right now.