A/N: I feel horrible. Worse than horrible. I know I'm way late, and I thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this newest installment.

"Robbery gone, wrong," the cop answered once Charlie was back behind the tape.

Charlie's eyes widened in fear and shock as he watched Hinata being loaded into the ambulance, "I have to go with her," his voice was trembling. The officer looked over his shoulder and then back at Charlie, "She's my girlfriend, I was on the way to pick her up from work."
The cop nodded and rushed Charlie to the ambulance before the doors closed. The paramedics looked skeptical at first, but they let Charlie ride with them. Charlie mouthed "thank you" to the cop before the doors closed.

During the drive, Charlie wanted to reach his hand out and hold Hinata's, but he held back in fear as the paramedics did their job and keep her from going into shock. What he did do was clench and unclench his fists while watching Hinata's pale face, the oxygen mask still over it, and her breathing a little slow.

"She's stable, now sir, hopefully she'll keep it up when we get her into the ER," one of the paramedics said and gave Charlie a reassuring smile.

"Yeah," Charlie said, his mouth suddenly dry.

He didn't say anything thorugh out the rest of the ride, ignoring the pain in his fingers from their clenching exercise. Charlie still didn't touch her, despite the news of her being stable, as if he touched Hinata then she would take a turn for the worse. Charlie could feel his fingers dig into the palm of his hand, and his mind began racing, numbers passing by in a familiar blur.

Charlie knew he shouldn't be doing that in a time like this, the overwhelming guilt he felt when he allowed the numbers to swallow him during his mom's final days still fresh in his mind, but it was like his body went into defense mood and his brain herded into the safe room. He stayed in that trance until the ambulance doors flew open and Hinata was rushed to the ER. Charlie followed, knowing he wasn't going beyond the double doors, but he tried either way; his feet not taking him anywhere else.

"Sorry, Sir, you going to have to stay here," a nurse told him while pressing her hand to his chest to stop him. She gave him a sad smile before leading him to the waiting room.

He gave little resitance when he was placed in a seat, and Charlie felt his mind race while his hand did a gesture that showed he was holding a piece of chalk. The racing numbers were written on an invisible blackboard for what Charlie guessed was hours, his breathing becoming heavier and a few tears were felt on his cheeks. Charlie's lips moved slightly and he didn't know if he was saying a prayer or the numbers that made up pi.

Charlie didn't know how long he was in that trance, but he was pulled out of it by the sound of his phone going off. Jumping, and his breathing hitching a little bit, Charlie was quick to grab his phone and read the caller ID. It was his dad.

"Yeah?" Charlie's voice cracked, and he had to clear his throat and wipe away the stray tears on his cheeks.
"Charlie, thank God, you're alright," the breath Alan let out was audible, "Me and Don just saw the news. We thought you were in there."

"Oh," Charlie said and cleared his throat again, "No, I...I came in afterwards," he blinked, noticing the tears coming up again, "But Hinata was shot. She..." Charlie didn't even try to stop his voice from cracking when he heard his dad gasp, "She's in surgery right now."

"Okay, we're on our way, which hospital?" Charlie gave him the name - surprised he even paid attention to that, "We'll be there as soon as we can, buddy, everything's going to be okay."

Charlie grumbled something before he and his dad hung up. He held the phone loosely against his ear, the racing numbers disappearing into a fog that was making him nauseous. Now he remembered why he was practically married to his blackboard while his mom was lying in her bed as the cancer ate her away.

Flinching at the memory - and how harsh it sound in his head - Charlie pocketed his phone and buried his face in his hands. There was no running away this time, and Charlie didn't think he could if he wanted with how heavy his own body felt. He doubt he could even move with how his stomach was rolling.

"Chuck?" Charlie snapped his head up at the mention of his nickname and soon had a travel coffee-cup pushed into his hand. Blinking, Charlie looked down at the warm liquid in his hands and then up to see Don, "Dad said you sounded like hell over the phone, and you definitely look it."

The corners of Charlie's mouth lifted in an attempt to smile, but they gave instantly and fell along with Charlie's head. He heard Don take the seat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Where is Dad?" Charlie said followed by a small sip of his coffee to help the raspiness.

"Trying to get more information for you," Don gave his shoulder another squeeze, "Doesn't take much to tell you're running on autopilot, Charlie."

"I haven't felt like this since we found out about Mom..."

"I was there, Chuck, I know." Charlie recognized the tone Don used when he didn't want to trek on a subject anymore and took another sip of his cool coffee while his older brother removed his hand from his shoulder, "How is she?"

"They never told me where she was shot specifically, and I didn't think to ask," Charlie admitted, "But I noticed she was bleeding from her side and leg."

He didn't need to look up to see that Don was nodding. The churning in Charlie's stomach wasn't stopping, and he was sure the coffee wasn't helping now that he took time to think about it. Even so, Charlie took another sip of the drink, desperate for a distraction, to keep his mind out of that fog of numbers. The last thing he wanted was to upset Don by hiding in there again.

"No such luck," Alan said when he approached his sons, an apologetic look in his eyes when he looked at Charlie.

"Thanks anyway," Charlie croaked and he cleared his throat again.

"I was told that they were trying to get in contact with her next of kin though," Charlie's head shot up, the grip on his coffee tightening, "Restaurant she worked at had an emergency contact on file."

"Oh," Charlie didn't know what to say.

"Didn't think you would meet the family like this, huh Charlie?" Don asked, no sign of humor in his older brother's tone.

Charlie sighed and ran his hand through his hair, the weight of the night coming down on him harder with the new revelation. Not only was his girlfriend the victim of a robbery and now getting surgery for two gunshot wounds, her family was coming to LA and meeting a guy they never knew existed in her life.

His stomach did another roll, and Charlie knew not to keep pushing with the coffee, "I need some air," he admitted and made to stand up. He didn't remember stumbling, but he must have if Alan was steadying him and Don was getting ready to stand up.

"I'll go with you," Alan said, leaving no room for Charlie to argue, "You mind keeping an ear out, Donnie?"
"Yeah, sure."

Charlie didn't say anything when Alan lead him out, his coffee dumped in a trashcan near the entrance. The cool air caught him off guard, and Charlie stumbled again, his dad keeping his grip on Charlie's arm.

"I'm starting to see why you hid in the garage when you're mom was sick. You feel like you're gonna be sick?"

"I've been feeling like that since I saw her in the ambulance," he said and felt the bile finally rising up at its acknowledgement. Alan didn't stop him when he rushed to another nearby trash can and expelled whatever his stomach was holding. His throat burned while he dry heaved whatever was left, and tears slid down his cheeks.

He felt his dad's hand on his back, "Easy Charlie, take a deep breath. There you go..."

The two stayed in that position for a few minutes until Charlie's breathing was back under control. Charlie wiped the stray tears from his face when he straightened himself up. He hoped not too many people saw how he acted, but he also thought seeing someone have some type of physical reaction at the hospital was a common sight.

"Better?"

"Meaning my stomach isn't doing an emergency clean up but still doing backflips," Charlie said and ran his fingers through his curls once more, "Then yes, I'm better."

Alan didn't say anything, choosing to lead Charlie to a nearby stone bench and having his son sit down. Personally, Charlie wanted head back inside, but he didn't exactly trust himself to even make it that far.

"She's going to be fine, Charlie," Alan said, still rubbing Charlie's back.

Not trusting himself to say anything, Charlie nodded and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to go back into the sea of numbers and get lost until what was happening stopped. Perhaps when Charlie reached dry land again he would wake up to a comfortable memory of him and Hinata in each other arms looking over her sketchpad and Charlie giving her pointers on proportions. Just thinking about it brought a semblace of a smile to his face.

"Charlie, I know what you're trying to do, and I'm not letting you get away with it," Alan shook him by the shoulder, pulling Charlie from the boat before he could step a foot in it, "You can't runaway in your head this time, Charlie. That girl in there needs you to be around physically and mentally."

"I just..." he was choking on his words again, and Charlie didn't even try to clear his throat. He kept his face buried and he noticed something wet coming down his face. Crying, he was definitely crying; and Charlie wondered if this night couldn't get any worse.

"She's going to be fine, Charlie. Everything's going to be fine," Alan went on, "And you won't be able to see that if you're hiding away in that brain of yours. Trust me, I know that feeling. Seeing someone you care about in serious danger and only wanting to close your eyes and hope it's some crazy dream. But it also tells that person 'sorry, you're on your own', and I couldn't do that to your mom or to you boys."

Charlie didn't say anything, tears falling down freely down his cheek and stubble. He could only manage a stiff nod as he tried to keep himself from running to the dock where the boat would take him away that blissful sea of numbers. It was harder than he thought.

A/N: Alright, I'm ready, let me have it.