don't know

This is a new venture for me. It's my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, and the first time I've posted anything rated M. I didn't mean to tackle two new things at once, but I've been wanting to try a multi-chapter, and this is the story that demanded to be written.

I do have a couple warnings. First, this is rated M for a reason, and it will earn it's rating. Don won't just be whumped, he'll be debased. I won't go into excruciating detail, but I won't be coy either. There will be no doubt as to what's going on. He 's not exactly raped, but he is abused in a sexual manner. If you find this disturbing, please don't read this story.

Also, there's a character death, not a brother. Thanks for reading.

prologue

He thought he would be spared Megan, at least. He should have been spared Megan. She had left the FBI, and their lives, so long ago, but no, here she was back. And how irritating that it was Charlie, naturally, that was responsible for her reappearance.

Don wasn't sure which irritated him more; having Megan in his face, or the idea that Megan was in his face because his precious little brother had begged her to come.

Of course she wouldn't say no to Charlie. No one ever said no to Charlie. Everyone always adored Charlie.

It wasn't really Charlie's genius, that was just an excuse. Everyone loved Charlie from the get-go, a lot more than they ever liked Don. People only liked Don if he did what he was suppose to do; play the role he was suppose to play.

Protective big brother, dutiful son, dependable jock or dedicated federal agent. That was all Don was good for, and if he didn't have that, what good was he? Why should he even exist?

That's why they wanted him to get well. So he could go back to being good old Don, taking care of everything. But taking care of Megan was no longer part of his job, and he didn't need her here taking care of him, thank-you very much.

Why couldn't everyone leave him alone? Go fawn over Charlie, help HIM if he was freaking out, and let Don lick his wounds in private.

He loathed it , every second of it. They all walked delicately around him, as if he were a wild animal trapped in a cage. It was like they were trying not to spook him, like Don might suddenly take to his heels and run away.

They tried to gentle him, "It's okay, just take it easy. Try to relax. You're safe now. Everything's going to be alright."

Alright? No, it was not alright, and nothing was ever going to make it alright.

Don wasn't a child. He hated being patronized. He wanted to scream at them, throw himself on the floor, and drum his feet in anger. Of course, that would only confirm that he wasn't 'stable'.

God, he had to be stable. He had to get out of here. The only way that was going to happen is if he played their game. So he needed to play along, charm Bradford and Megan, convince them he was sane. And he would do that, as soon as he figured out how to break this block of ice that surrounded him.

He kind of liked the ice that encased him, it kept feelings at bay. If you're frozen, you can't hurt. But other people and his own plans threatened that ice. He could accept his plans breaking through the ice, but really, why did anyone else have a right to use icepicks on him?

Bradford and Megan, they kept trying to probe into his mind, his soul, as if he had some obligation to bare himself to them. Couldn't they understand Don wanted to keep a little piece of himself private?

He didn't want to share; he didn't want to let anyone IN. He wanted to slam the door, keep them out. He especially wanted to keep Charlie and Megan out.

He wasn't sure why, really, he wanted to keep those two out, but he knew he did. He pondered that, what the two had in common, that they both roused the same feeling in him.

Then he had it; Charlie and Megan were both so certain of themselves. They acted like they had already finished the book, and were waiting for everyone else, particularly Don, to catch up. They never failed to make Don feel like an idiot.

If Charlie HAD to contact an old teammate because he was worried about his brother, why couldn't it have been Terry? Don would have been a lot more comfortable letting Terry in.

Terry would have seen pass his bullshit of course. But she wouldn't have called him on it. She would understand, and would deliberately turn a blind eye and go along with him.

Bradford, he could bullshit Bradford too. Oh, the man would probably realize he was being played, but in the end, he didn't have the time or the patience to, well, have the time and patience to bother. If Don wanted to play games, and as long as Don wasn't suicidal, Bradford would shrug, and play along.

Charlie? What a joke. Yeah, the kid was smart, but oh so easy. The day Don couldn't run circles around his little brother would be the day Don would eat his gun.

Megan though, was a problem. He couldn't play Megan, and she wouldn't simply look the other way if she suspected what his plans were. Nope, he had to keep her out. He silently engaged in a mental conversation with her, refusing to actually voice his thoughts.

"Don? Please look at me Don. It's hard to talk to you when you stare at the wall."

I like staring at the wall, it's restful. Besides, I don't want you to talk to me. What part of that don't you get?

"Don, please. I'm just worried about you, everyone's worried about you. Talk to me."

I don't care if the whole world is worried about me. All I care about right now is myself, and the plans I've made. Surely I'm entitled?

"You've been through so much, torture..." Megan's voice faltered.

Yeah, I remember. Funny thing, Megan, I don't recall you in that barn. Oh wait, you just watched it on YouTube with the rest of the world. Well, except Charlie and Amita of course. They were in Langley, of all places, doing a consulting job for the fucking CIA. Talk about ironic.

Megan caught her breath, "Then, there's Robin. Don, I'm so sorry about Robin..." her voice petered out again.

I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT ROBIN! And you, fucking bitch, have no right to speak her name. Okay, yeah, I know I'm being unreasonable, but fuck, I FEEL like being unreasonable. Why am I always expected to be the reasonable one here? Why should I be the reasonable one here? Oh yeah, so I can get out of this place.

"Don, really, you need to talk. You're freaking people out. Your dad's worried sick, and Charlie's frantic. He's going to be sick himself, if he doesn't calm down."

Charlie? I'm suppose to get well for Charlie's sake? FUCK CHARLIE! I am so God-damn sick of my whole life revolving around Charlie! I'm tortured, my wife is murdered, and yet, it's STILL about Charlie! When is it ever going to be about ME?

Megan must have seen some reaction to Charlie's name, so she kept on, "Your brother loves you. He feels terrible that he wasn't here, and didn't even know what was going on. He wants so badly to help you, but he's over his head." Megan smiled sadly, "He admits, he doesn't know how math applies here, which is why he called me."

Well, how about that? Numbers aren't everything! Numbers don't stop the pain when you're tortured. Numbers don't ease the humilation when the whole world witnessess your torture, and numbers don't bring the dead back to life. Congratulations Charlie! Maybe you finally learned something besides your fucking math.

Megan was evidently encouraged by some involuntary response of Don's to go on, "Charlie called me to ask what he coud do to help. I was planning on visiting Larry anyway, so I came on back to LA. Charlie and Alan are concerned that you don't talk."

Unbelievable! Her yapping on and on about CHARLIE really was helping! Just probably not in the way Megan intended. I can feel my anger, my fury, burning a fire inside me. A fire hot enough to melt this ice and unlock my tongue! Good work Megan! You pushed the right button.

"Oh, good! At least you're looking at me, and not the wall. That's some progress." Megan paused, "I don't suppose you want to actually say something?"

She's dangerous! Do NOT talk to her! Don't give Megan, of all people, anything! It's like your own version of the Miranda code, anything you say to Megan can and will be used against you!

"Bradford," he croaked out.

If Megan was surprised to finally hear his voice, she hid it well, "Bradford? You want me to get Bradford?"

Don nodded, his throat still felt too tight to talk.

Megan smiled and laid a hand on his arm, "Okay, I'll get Bradford. I'm glad you're talking Don."