Thanks again for the reviews. Hope you enjoy chapter three.

Full Disclosure

- Chapter Three -

Don bit his lower lip, struggling to get the crutches under his arms without putting any weight on his foot or waking his brother. He had previous experience using crutches – had used them several times before for various job and sports related injuries, but it always took a little time to get the hang of it again.

The nurse, a perky little redhead named Pamela, had just been in to check on them and he had awakened with a start when she pulled the sheets back to look at his bandages. She had checked his and Charlie's vitals, then apologized for waking him and left with a cherry smile and a promise to leave him alone for awhile so he could rest. He had fully intended to do just that until he had noticed his father was not in the room.

Alan had been with them since they arrived at the hospital and even though he assumed his father had just gone for a cup of coffee, it had still been a little unsettling to see the chair by Charlie's bed vacant.

It had only taken him a moment to decide to take advantage of Alan's absence; he would slip down the hall to see how Dean Hunter was doing. The doctor, after all, had said to try to get up and move around. He had been a little dizzy when he first sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, but a few deep breaths later it went away. He slipped off the bed, centering his weight on the crutches and his uninjured foot.

Even though he had been quiet, Charlie stirred slightly. Don froze, holding his position, standing on one leg while his brother made a small sound of distress and raised a bandaged hand to his neck. With his eyes still closed, Charlie scratched at the soft collar around his neck, grimacing slightly, then let his hand fall to the bed again. Don remained still until his brother's face relaxed and his breathing evened out, then, biting his lip, he took three careful steps towards his Charlie's bed.

Don studied him. He had to give him credit, the kid had really come last few day's ordeal had tested him, nearly taken him to his limit; he could only imagine how hard it had been on Charlie. His brother had never complained though, had never quit. The truth was, Don himself, might have died a horrible death if Charlie hadn't ... Don swallowed, looking at both his brother's arms, wrapped in yards of white bandages and shuddered. His heart raced at the memory and the utter terror that came with it, so he forced his thoughts in another direction, looking instead, at the source of Charlie's recent discomfort – the cervical collar.

Despite the intense bone-jarring impact when the helicopter crashed, Don had not lost consciousness. He had quickly unhooked his seat belt and checked on the pilot's condition. Finding him alive and fairly cognizant, he had climbed out of the cockpit to check on his brother. He had found him several feet away, bloody and unconscious. Charlie had regained consciousness right away as Don was checking him for injuries and for a while they thought the worse of it was the large open cut just below his hairline. They discovered the neck injury as soon as Don had helped his brother stand up.

Don had the requisite emergency training the bureau provided, but it didn't go much further than stablizing broken bones and applying pressure to bleeding wounds. The fact that Charlie was not experiencing any numbness, tingling, paralysis or blinding pain had seemed like a good thing, so, in the end, considering the situation they were in, they did what they had to do.

Looking at his brother now, Don marveled again at his brother's resilience, but gazing at the collar and the white bandage on his forehead that still seemed to be leaking fluid, his thoughts turned to their father. Don hated that Alan had to see Charlie like that. If he could have prevented that, in any way, he would have.

He had developed a pattern early in his days of working with the bureau of protecting his family from knowing the danger he was often in – and when that danger resulted in injury. What they didn't know, wouldn't hurt them, right? He didn't want them to worry about him, and in the same line of reasoning, if he had to worry about how his family would react, it might affect how he did his job, so along with the detachment he had developed to keep himself from becoming too emotionally involved, he had established a pattern of 'selective sharing', as Megan Reeves had coined it.

It had been easy enough to let Alan and everyone think that all of his and Charlie's injuries were from being in the helicopter when it crashed. Only the Black Rock authorities, who he had given his report to, and David and Colby, who had taken his statement for the bureau, were privy to the details; and, of course, Dr. Colt and Dean Hunter.

He hadn't seen the pilot since their rescue and he thought, with Alan gone, it would be a good time to see how he was doing.

He made it across the room to the door, then with a maneuver he was relieved no one was around to see, he reached forward, squeezing the crutch under his armpit to keep it in place, and pulled the door open, inch by inch, moving backwards, one hop at a time to accommodate the opening door. He braced the door behind his shoulder and moved unsteadily into the hallway. By the time he reached Dean's room, he was breathing heavily and his forehead was beaded with perspiration.

He thought about knocking on the closed door, but settled for the clack of the crutches as he tried to open it. "Hey," he called into the room, "you decent?"

"Hey, Don. Come on in."

Dean Hunter lay at a slight angle, his head elevated just to the point it could be said he wasn't lying flat. His left leg, encased in layers and layers of white, hung suspended in a long sling-like apparatus which was hooked to a rod attached to the bottom of the bed. A sheet covered most of his right leg and hip, the swollen enlarged area where his injured knee rested beneath it clearly visible. The pilot smiled, a toothy grin that lit up his face and motioned for Don to sit down on the chair next to the bed. "Take a load off, man. You're looking a little peaked there."

"Look who's talking." Don said, panting with the effort of maneuvering around the bottom of the bed and avoiding the IV stand. He sat down hard, glad to be off his feet (foot) and leaned the crutches against the bottom of the bed.

"How's the ankle?" Dean asked. When Don shrugged dismissively Dean snorted and shook his head. "Don't give me that bull. I was there, remember?"

Don tilted his head and pursed his lip, still unwilling to give into complaint. "Could be worse," he mumbled.

"You really messed it up carrying me, didn't you?"

"Not as much as you screwed up your chopper trying to rescue Charlie and I." Don said bluntly.

"Yeah, well, Bela's insured."

"Who do you think paid for these top of the line wooden crutches, man? The bureau takes care of it's own, you know."

Dean grinned, giving the point to Don, then asked, "How's Charlie?"

Don's expression sobered. He took a deep breath in and expelled it quickly through puffy cheeks and pursed lips. "Sleeping now. He took a hit of the good stuff and drifted right off. The doctors keep talking about how lucky he was that he didn't break his neck." Don shifted in the chair, wincing, his hand pressed against his side. "I gotta tell you, Hunter, when we were going down that's all I could think of. And if Dad knew how close it really was...well, let's just say he'll sleep a lot better if he never finds out."

Dean's expression was grim as he nodded and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't get called out on these rescues very often, but sometimes they can get pretty hairy. Ruby's there alone dealing with the kids and the house and everything; I mean her mom, Mary, is there helping out sometimes, but, I don't think Ruby needs to know when things don't always go right. I come back home, I'm fine, she doesn't need to know what could have happened." He fidgeted with the edge of the white blanket. "Right now, in her eighth month, Ruby's kinda emotional, you know? Sometimes, I even call her when I leave the house in the morning and tell her not to take LaGrange Road going into town later. You know why? 'Cause there's a dead deer along the side and I know she'll be upset if she sees it. She'll cry for hours – Bambi, you know. So, it's not like I'm going to tell her how close the damn fire got to us. I mean, she's got a thing about fires already and I figured she's got enough to handle right now without that."

Don studied the man in front of him for a moment, then, "She didn't see the scorch marks on your jacket?"

Dean shook his head. "Ed and Harry, the medics, they're old friends. I asked them to get rid of it."

Don nodded, understanding, recognizing the same ideals and principles he used to protect his own family.

Dean looked up. "So, what did you tell your dad?"

"Well, I could hardly hide the fact that I was clumsy enough to step in that stupid bear trap. I told him Charlie called for help and you came, but the helicopter crashed on take off and we were all injured. He doesn't need to know that Charlie wasn't on board with us. I mean it's better to let him think that than to know the helicopter essentially fell on top of him, huh?"

Don couldn't believe how calmly he said those words. He shuddered, trying to block out images of the helicopter spinning in erratic circles, seeing his brother through the windshield on every dizzy revolution, trying to get out of it's path.

Dean's voice was tinted with skepticism when he spoke. "You sound like your Dad is only worried about Charlie. I'm sure he was just as concerned about you when they called him about the crash."

Another bad moment. Don winced, thinking of his father receiving that call, but shook it off quickly. "No, that's not it. The very nature of my job puts me in situations I don't always tell Dad, or even Charlie, about. I know he worries, but, I can take care of myself." With another small, off-handed shrug, Don added, "Charlie's always needed a little more looking after."

Dean studied the man sitting in front of him. After the crash and the second phone call for help, they had all taken a few minutes to collect themselves before continuing the trek to the alternative pick-up site. He had watched as Don, still feeling the effects of the crash, had limped to his younger brother – on an ankle that was still bleeding – and cleaned some of Charlie's more serious cuts and injuries, using the first aid kit from the chopper. Dean had been fascinated. Literally moments before, Don had been weak and frail enough that they had been able to force him into Bela. Well, ... weak, but hostile, angry and argumentative, threatening both Dean and Charlie with dire consequences if he was forced to board the chopper without his brother. Cleaning the deep, open gash on Charlie's forehead, though, Don had been quiet and gentle. Even though his hands had been shaking and he flinched every time his brother hissed in pain, Don had wrapped the wound tightly, then cleaned the other cuts and scrapes with the antiseptic.

It had been obvious that Charlie had sustained an injury to his neck. Every time he tried to turn his head, he would moan or grimace, but the chopper's first aid kit didn't include a cervical collar or anything resembling it. Don had not been deterred. Using his pocket knife, Don had slashed open one of the seat cushions and ripped out the hard foam. He had trimmed it with the knife until it fit snuggly under Charlie's chin, then fastened it with the duct tape Dean always kept behind the back seat. That, at least, had kept Charlie from moving his head too much and possibly causing permanent damage. After that, he had splinted Dean's leg and taped his injured knee between two seat cushions to stabilize it. Don had tended to his own ankle, refusing Charlie's help, as it would have meant his brother would have to bend over.

Dean wondered what bottomless well Don Eppes had dragged his stamina from. It had to be more than adrenalin. It was like those fake TV cops who were hit over the head with a baseball hat, than shot three times and run over by a truck, but still managed to stop the terrorists from blowing up the White House. Intrepid, heroic, indomitable; those who have what it takes to get the job done, then crash and burn afterwards, when the world was safe again.

Dean shook his head. "What did you tell your Dad about capturing the poacher's top gun, John Henricksen, and that crazy night at the Point?"

"At first, I told him we had seen signs of the poachers around, but we tried to avoid a confrontation with a possibly armed felon, considering the shape we were all in."

"And he bought that?"

"It wasn't really a lie." Don's tone was sharp, as if he dared the man to contradict him. "I was concerned about you and Charlie and what would happen if a firefight developed."

With obvious effort, Dean raised himself up on his elbows, defensive and insulted. "Hey, fed, I was in the 101st Airborne. I could have handled myself."

Don's eyebrows went up, challengingly. "With two broken legs?"

Deadpanned, Dean replied, "Really, it's only one broken leg."

Don laughed, quickly, and the tension faded. "I told him Henricksen came into our campsite and I was able to subdue him."

"Bit of an understatement, isn't it?"

"It's like you said, it's over, he doesn't need to know what could have happened." Don shrugged one shoulder and splayed his fingers through his hair. "I didn't go into great detail about taking the poachers down, either. I mean, he knows I had to fire my weapon, and I guess I told him we were a little outnumbered, but, it's over. Let it be."

"Soooo, you didn't tell him about Charlie and the ..."

"No." Don snapped instantly, his voice tight and his dark eyes flashing. "No, I didn't tell him and I hope he never finds out."

There was a moment of uneasy silence while Dean played with the edge of his blanket and Don chewed his lip, then Dean spoke up. "So, is your Dad staying out at the Crossroads Motel?"

"Yeah. I wish he would go get some decent rest. I saw him sleeping in that chair over by Charlie's bed again. He sure didn't look comfortable. I think he went down to the cafeteria for some coffee."

Dean suddenly stiffened and groaned, his eyes closed tightly, his head thrown back against the pillow.

Don moved quickly, struggling to get out of the chair on one leg. "What? You need something? You alright?"

Dean opened his eyes, looked directly at Don and spoke. "Ruby just went to the cafeteria, too. You don't suppose...?"

The room was quiet as they contemplated the chances of Alan and Ruby actually meeting and sharing information. Both men chastised themselves for not realizing it was likely to happen in the small hospital. They shared anguished glances, each one knowing what the outcome of such a meeting would be. "Aw, shit," they moaned together.

tbc

List of Supernatural names/references;

Pamela (Barnes) - psychic, seasons 4 and 5

Mary (Winchester) - Dean and Sam's mother

(Roy) LaGrange - faith healer, season 1 "Faith" 1.12

Ed (Zeddmore) and Harry (Spangler) - "Ghostfacers" 3.13

John (Winchester) - Dean and Sam's father, uber demon hunter

(Victor) Henricksen - FBI agent season 2

crossroads - an intersection of two roads (usually rural) where a person can strike a deal with the Devil