Came out of re-watching season 4

Part one

Don felt guilty as he looked around him. He was enjoying a nice lunch with his family, when his team was fractured and Colby, his friend, teammate, agent, and spy (?) was in hospital after almost losing his life.

He quickly put down his glass and stared at his hands, noting that they hadn't actually stopped shaking yet. David and he had had to carry out CPR on Colby on that ship, waiting for medics to arrive, taking it in turns to do chest compressions to make sure neither of them tired out. It had felt like forever, days and nights, but Megan informed them that it was only minutes. Don had sat back on his heels when he was pulled off, an EMT pressed a couple of fingers to Colby's throat and nodded when he found a pulse. "You did good, Agent," she told him, and she and her teammate got to work.

But it didn't feel like he had done something good, no way. He had lost someone whom it was his job to support and protect, to teach and direct, to understand and have faith in. But how well had he accomplished that? Not at all – Colby had been working under the weight of this secret for two years and the man hadn't trusted Don enough to tell him. Then there was the fact that Don hadn't noticed either. That was part of his job too – to take note if something was bothering his agents and do something about it. But in his defence Colby was already working for the CIA and Kirkland before he was even assigned to Don's team, before he had even joined the FBI, so Don hadn't had a proper baseline to go on.

Now though, without that weight of the world on his admittedly broad and strong shoulders he might be a different person, might lighten up a little. If he a) stayed alive, and b) stayed with the FBI. And didn't that thought make the food in front of him so much less appetising now?

He couldn't get passed it, the thought that Colby, a young man he had trusted with his life, with Charlie, Amita and his father's lives, had lied to him from the very start, had been something other than himself and had probably reported on him, on all of them, to the CIA. What the hell was he supposed to do with that knowledge?
Before he could get too introspective and disturbed Larry nudged him gently and his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't know which one to go for first but Larry just smiled at him and nodded at the phone that Don had grabbed. He nodded his thanks and answered his phone.

It was the hospital. "Agent Eppes," Colby's doctor greeted him. "I'm pleased to say your Agent Grainger is waking up," she told him after introducing herself. "You said you wanted to know."

"Yeah, thanks Doc," he replied and frowned at his Dad across the taken from him as he folded his phone.

"What is it?" Alan asked him quickly, unfortunately well used to that bewildered, concerned expression on his son's face. "Don?"

"Colby's waking up," Don replied and watched his father – he trusted his father to be a moral compass for him.

As he had thought Alan grinned. "That's great," he said eagerly. "Go, tell him we'll come by later or tomorrow. Okay?"

Don smiled in relief. "Okay," he agreed and stood. "Do you want me to…?" he asked and reached for his wallet, but his father shook his head.

"No, Don, don't be silly," his father reassured him. "Go, call me, okay?"

He watched as his oldest child nodded and then turned on his heel and jogged away towards the street and his SUV.

It didn't take him long to get to the hospital, thoughts running through his mind, but he didn't let them stop him from getting there, parking his car and getting to the right floor. Cardiac Critical Care unit was not somewhere he ever wanted to be, especially as a visitor for someone he cared a lot about, but here he was for that exact reason – he cared a lot about Colby, probably more than he should. So he smiled at the doctor waiting for him, listened while she rattled off some medicinal stuff, but he got the gist of it – Colby was going to be okay. He nodded his thanks and left her outside the room, to stand at the foot of Colby's bed for a few moments before he did anything else.

Colby was still asleep, hooked up to a heart monitor, an oxygen canula under his nose that had just been attached to replace the mask. He looked pale, and tired even in his sleep and Don walked over and sat down on the empty visitor's chair at the head of the bed. One of Colby's hands was on the blankets near his and he reached for it without thinking about it, entangling his fingers in Col's strong ones to hold on.

He had come prepared, he had found a book his Dad had probably left in the glove box in his SUV, and started to read it while he waited.

Colby came too slowly and wished he hadn't. Everything hurt, even his hair it seemed, the pain centring on his chest. He was uncomfortable, a bit cold, all apart from one of his hands. It took a moment or two of contemplation before he figured out someone was holding his hand, which was why it was warmer than the rest of him. He wondered who it was, not really expecting much but he forced his eyes open anyway and blinked a couple of times to clear his vision.

He was surprised to see Don sitting next to him, standing in an uncomfortable chair, reading a book in one hand, his other one covering one of his own, their fingers intertwined. It took some more moments of concentration to get his fingers to twitch in Don's to get his attention. "…D…" he managed to rasp, but his throat was so dry nothing came out.

No matter though, Don felt his fingers move in his and looked down at him. He spotted the eyes open and looked up at him and smiled slightly at him. "Col," he said to him and put his book down. "Thirsty?" he asked as he spotted his friend licking his dry, chapped lips. When he nodded Don let go of his hand and reached for a bottle on the cupboard behind him. He unsealed it, opened it and then turned back to Colby. "Doc says you're going to be a bit weak for a while so I'm going to have to help you. Is that okay?"

When Col nodded again he slipped his arm around the other agent's shoulders and supported him enough so he could drink some of the water he was offering. Don didn't give him too much, he had been in Col's position before and knew the last thing the younger man wanted to do was throw up the same water. "Better?" he asked when Colby had swallowed the sips he had helped him with, and settled him back down again on his pillows when he nodded. "How're you feeling, otherwise?"

"…Cold…" the other agent replied and tried not to shiver. "…hurts…"

"Hang on," the team leader told him and quickly stood to rummage around the small room for supplies. He found some more blankets and quickly unfurled them out and over him, tucking them around him, especially his feet. "I'll go find your Doctor about pain meds, okay?" he asked but Col shook his head. He fought the new blankets to get his hands free and reached out for his boss again.

"Not yet," he said, almost as a plea. "I need…"

Don took his hand again and sat back down again. "Whatever you need can wait, Col," he tried to persuade him. "I've been where you are, there's no point in fighting through the pain."

Colby made an odd huffing noise and it took the other man a few seconds to realise he was laughing. "…you wanna be pot or kettle…?" he asked him, amused. "You've been a spy too?" he added, not so amused.

Don decided not to be annoyed at his last comment despite the flash of annoyance he tried to hide. "I'll be the kettle," he answered him and squeezed the hand he still held. "Because of my caffeine addiction. You can be the pot. And I may not have worked for the Chinese or the CIA, but I have worked for OPR and consulted on a joint anti-terrorism group in Israel." Then he used his free hand to tap the end of the guy's shapely nose. "If you mention that to my Dad or my brother I'll break your neck."

Colby smiled at him and nodded. "I can keep a secret," he assured him, his tone dry.

Don studied him for a few moments before he said anything. "About that," he commented. "Were you ever going to tell me? Could you?"

Colby sighed and shook his head. "I couldn't," he admitted and looked away from him. "They were…" he added but stopped. "I couldn't."

Don nodded, he didn't want to force anything out of him, especially when he was exhausted and in pain. But he could… He leant forward and used his free hand to cup Colby's pale cheek in his hand. "Do not do anything like this again," he told him firmly, making sure Colby was looking him in the eye. "You scared the crap out of me. Don't do it again. Do you understand me?"

Colby crumpled and held on tightly to Don's hand, like a lifeline. "I didn't want to," he choked. "They didn't… Kirkland, he…." He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to let his traitorous tears fall. "I'm just so t… tired," he said quietly and tried to move closer to his boss.

Don stood and perched on the side of the bed so he could get closer to him. Colby took the comfort he offered and leant against him, pressing his face against his sweater when Don let his cheek go. The older man virtually curled around him, his arms around his shoulders, and held him tight.

"So t… tired of hiding," Colby murmured into his chest. "Don…"

"It's okay, it's okay," his boss assured him and laid his cheek on the top of his armful's head. "It's over now, you can rest."

"You sure?" Colby asked, and Don could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"I'm sure, Colby," Don answered him. "You're an FBI agent, no-one can use you again without going through me first," he told him firmly. "And I won't let it happen, you understand?"

Colby groaned and Don smiled a little and hugged him as tight as he dared. "If anyone tries I'll set Megan on them," he told him, and heard him huff a laugh against him. "Go back to sleep, Col," he instructed him gently. "You're exhausted. We'll deal with this when you're up to it, okay?" He took Colby's soft groan as an affirmative and held him tight for a few minutes until his breathing evened out and he relaxed in his grip.

Don gently laid the younger man back down into his pillows and tucked the blankets around him again. Colby was asleep, finally, and he looked almost peaceful. But he had a slight frown marring his forehead and Don suddenly remembered what he was going to do a few minutes earlier. He quickly got up and left the room, looking for a doctor or nurse with some pain meds.

When Colby woke up a few hours later he felt a lot better, about twenty pounds lighter, virtually pain-free and not so exhausted. He didn't feel alone either, and when he looked around him he realised why that was.

Don was still there, asleep, slumped in the visitor's chair with his feet, shoes off, crossed at the ankles on the mattress near Colby's knees. Someone had draped a blanket over him, and it looked like he had charmed a larger, more comfortable chair from somewhere, rather than that horrible plastic one. This one at least reclined and the back was high enough to support his neck and let him rest his head on a pillow.

His presence reassured the younger agent that his hell was finally over and he sighed in relief. He could relax now and maybe live a little. He wondered whether Don wanted to live a little with him. He did know it wasn't going to be easy, he had a lot of bridges to rebuild, a lot of things to explain, people to apologise to, but he hoped that Don being here meant he didn't have too much work to do with him. He had wanted his boss since he had set eyes on him but his work for Kirkland and the CIA had stopped him from making his move. Now, with that gone, he may stand a chance, and with Don still holding onto his hand, he may have more of a chance that he thought.

He would have to wait and see, at the moment he was in no fit state to start anything with anyone, feeling as weak as a kitten with no claws, he could hardly lift up his head, and he was pleased someone had raised the head of his bed so he was reclining and could see what was going on around him. He took advantage of his perspective and watched Don until he was tired enough to go back to sleep again.