Blow to the Head
Fandom: Numb3rs
Genres: Hurt/Comfort and Family
Rating: K+
Setting: This is a scene tag but right now I can't seem to figure out which episode it was for :(
POV: Don
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: No Eppes brothers for me; I just own this tiny plot bunny.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Lady Asphodelic for inspiring me to go back through my notebook of Numb3rs scribblings and pulling out the completable one-shots :)
Preface: Don's job can be dangerous, but Charlie's the one whose head needs a little patching up.
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Charlie practically burst into the treatment room at St. Jude's Memorial where his brother, flinching at the intruding noise, sat, hanging his head down while holding an ice pack to the back of it. "Geez, Charlie," he said. "How about a little warning next time…" He squinted up at the younger, curlier-haired Eppes, who was apparently preparing to hover. Charlie ignored his complaint.
"What happened?" He asked, peering around to the back of Don's head. "Megan called and said she was taking you to the hospital, and I was really worried about you!" Charlie's fingers deftly lifted the hand with the ice pack and he let out a whistle. Don's head had a bloody gauge in it, surrounded by wet, congealed hair.
"Guy clocked me with his gun," Don admitted. "Feels like he cracked my skull open. The doc's gonna sew it up."
Charlie was inspecting the wound closely. "He really must have hit you hard," he said, with concern. "You've got a three-inch gash in your scalp. It's worse than that time Tommy Romero pushed your arm through the classroom window."
Don smiled grimly at the childhood memory. "Well, Tommy Romero wasn't on the run from the cops, and he wasn't holding that big of a grudge against me, so..."
Charlie moved back over to where he could see his brother's face. "This guy… he could have shot you." Charlie voice was shaky and he looked vulnerable; Don hated that his career choice was the source of that vulnerability. The youngest Eppes was terrified of losing his brother.
"He could have," Don admitted, "but he didn't."
"Why not?"
Charlie needed to understand. Don thought about it; thought about telling Charlie how he had been on his back, stunned from the head blow—unable to do anything—before the man finished pulling that trigger, and David—wonder of wonders—had dropped from above like Superman. He chose against it, unwilling to give Charlie one more way to picture his brother facing certain death.
"Because," he said, simply. "My team had my back."
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