Disclaimer: I do not own the Numb3rs characters.

A/N: I have family coming in for this week so the chapters will probably not be posted as often.

There were some really nice reviews with that chapter and I want to thank you all for the nice words. Netty thanks for the great review and I think Don will be kind enough to share his oxygen mask with you. / Dottid, glad you are enjoying it. I'm addicted to writing it / Curtisbrofan, It is always a pleasure to take care of Don / Maurbill, the reviews you write always make my day. Thanks /Thanks Salinas, TriGemini, and luvnumb3rs

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Chapter 7

Don was finally asleep again. Charlie collapsed on the couch, his legs hanging over the arm. He had his hand on him own chest. He tried to still his pounding heart. The nurse had said that his brother's reaction was a result of him having risen up while calling for Charlie. The movements of his chest from both his too loud voice and the moving had pulled at his sutures and put pressure on his already abused chest cavity, causing an internal spasm. She had injected two different medications into his IV while Charlie hovered in the doorway. One of which put him out fast. Once again Don had the oxygen mask on. It was only brought as a precaution. Now it was needed to keep the airway open again.

He knew that Don was supposed to talk in a low voice. Why couldn't Charlie get something right? He should not have gone back in there after his shower. Charlie knew that Don needed time to heal and that should be the only thing he had to worry about. He shouldn't have been burdened with Charlie's words. Words that he shouldn't have spoken aloud anyway.

Never had Charlie felt so helpless. His brother couldn't breath and there was nothing Charlie could do for him. He had sat on the bed beside his gasping brother and all he could do was try to calm him down. That seemed to have the opposite effect and Charlie was afraid that Don would die while he watched. It was the longest two minutes of his life.

At the rate he was going, Charlie was sure to be the cause of Don's early demise yet. The nurse came out a few minutes later. He sat up. "I'm sorry, that was fault. Is he going to be okay?"

"He should be fine when it wakes up, maybe a little more sore than earlier but he's breathing just fine now. I expect him to sleep for quite a while. The pain medication was a strong dose."

"Was he close to dying in there just now?" Charlie didn't really know why he asked that. He knew he didn't want to even think about it.

"Usually in these cases the patient eventually loses consciousness and the lungs start working on their own again. A person's normal reaction to not being able to breathe is to become rigid and fight for breath. But when you pass out, your body relaxes letting its own natural healing power take over. It doesn't work on its own if the patient is fighting it. I know it was scary to see but he'll be okay."

After she left Charlie went back into Don's room and sat in the chair. He sat there and he waited for each breath. After a few minutes, he noticed that he was counting the breaths and before he knew it he was matching his brother's breathing breath for breath. Charlie shook himself out of his trance and got up. Tina, as Charlie had finally remembered was the nurse's name and she had said that he would sleep for a while.

He walked over to the french doors. The grounds were a thing of beauty. Bob's wife Beth had always taken an active interest in the landscape on the property. He made a mental note to walk the fence line rather than run it his first time around. She may not be happy with a guest trampling flowers or something that Charlie may run over because it looked like a weed.

Charlie went to his bedroom and removed the two pillows from the bed. He carried them back to Don's room and dropped them on the floor. He'd probably sleep better if he was in the same room. When he lay down, he put both of his arms crossed under his head. He tried to clear his mind and it wasn't working. He'd close his eyes and he'd see blood, he'd see bloodless lips and he'd see Don not being able to breathe. After lying there for more than forty minutes, Charlie gave up with trying to sleep. What he really wanted to do right now was run; instead he went to unpack the bags that were brought with his and Don's requested items along with the bag of his brother's personal effects from the hospital.

He did anything he could think of to pass the time. He brewed tea for a pitcher of iced tea that Don might be interested in later. He put Don's cell phone on the night stand without turning it on. He started the washer and threw Don's bloodied jeans in. Charlie had thrown everything he was wearing last night away when he took each item off. Even his favorite running shoes were not saved from that metal trash bin. He had another pair. He was lucky. But Don had gone out and bought those perfect white velcro shoes and those were the only ones he had. The only ones that he did not have to ask for help with. Their dad took his other sneakers home with him and unless Don wanted to wear the dress shoes, he was out of luck.

Charlie took the velcro shoes out of the bag. They were wrapped in plastic, just as the jeans had been; the ones that were now in the first spin cycle. The left one was covered with blood, inside and out, the right was splattered with it. He searched for whatever cleaning supplies he could find and carried them outside the french doors of Don's room in a plastic wash tub. He didn't know why it happened but suddenly getting those shoes back to the perfect white color became an obsession. His 'put together' brother deserved no less.

Charlie scrubbed the shoes for forty minutes. He'd made sure to hit every inch, inside and out. Now all he had to do was wait for them to dry from the wet gray look they were now back to the perfect white they were when Don last put them on. Briefly he wondered if it was safe to use bleach on them. His dad would know, but that didn't help him now. Charlie left them on the patio and returned the cleaning supplies to where he had located them in the laundry room. While he was in there he threw the jeans in the dryer.

There was a knock at the door and when Charlie opened it, Beth was standing there with a large covered pot in her hands. "Hi Charlie. Is Don still sleeping?"

"Yeah." Charlie followed her into the kitchen.

"This is my grandmother's special recipe. It's chicken soup and guaranteed to make your brother to feel better." She set the pot on the burner and turned it on low.

Charlie smiled. "Thanks Beth. That was really nice of you."

"You're welcome. I don't know if you noticed, but there is food here. If something is missing that you need, just make a list and I will make sure you get it." Beth sat at the table and Charlie joined her.

"Thanks, I will."

"I'm really sorry that your brother was hurt. Bob doesn't tell me much but I do know it was a revenge attack. I also know that you were the intended victim and Bob told me that was all I needed to know. So I won't ask you any questions. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am that it happened."

"Thanks. Don's going to be fine. He's a fighter you know. He doesn't give up easily."

Beth smiled. "Sounds like you two have a lot in common."

Charlie shook his head. "We're nothing alike really. Oil and water, day and night, black and white. I've heard them all concerning Don and me."

"I think you would be surprised with how much you have in common Charlie. I may not know Don very well, but I've heard an awful lot about him from you, your mother and from Bob.I know that he's a good man and I know that he looks out for his brother. Those are two very important things the two of you do have in common. And you most definitely do not give up easily. I'd call you a fighter too."

"Charlie Bob told me I was to not crowd your space, so I want to just let you know that you're always welcome at the house for dinner or just to drop in to talk and if you need help taking care of Don, do not be afraid to ask for that help."

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This time when Charlie walked back into Don's room his eyes were open. He was staring at the ceiling but when Charlie walked in, Don looked at him. Charlie had forgotten to get the nurse's opinion on removing the mask but he went to the side of Don's bed and did it anyway.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. I'm okay Charlie. That just scared….me when I couldn't…..breathe."

"Scared me too Bro. I'm sorry that I walked away like that. I won't do it anymore. How's the pain in your chest?"

"It's sore, but I'm okay."

"Tina should be back in soon to check on you. Would you like that water now? Or I made iced tea if you'd prefer that."

"Just water."

Charlie came back in with the water and held it for Don to sip from the straw. He had been propped up on three pillows after Tina had come in the last time. Charlie was afraid to offer to remove any of them.

"Buddy, we need to….finish that talk."

"I'm fine Don. After you get better; we can talk then."

"It's important Charlie. You have nothing….to feel guilty about. You need to talk…it out. It will help…with the anger."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere Bro. It'll keep. You just rest and get better. Then you can argue with me. For now though, I get the last word."

Charlie walked to the door and turned back toward the bed. "I'm going to get you some soup and I think you'll find it's much better than the canned stuff Dad gives us."

Charlie walked to the kitchen and got the bowl of soup and a spoon. While he was setting up the tray in Don's room he noticed that Don was not saying anything, he was just watching him. He was starting to make Charlie nervous the way he was watching his face. What was he looking for? He tried to keep all expression off his face just in case.

The tray came up at a good angle for Don to use his left hand to feed himself. Unfortunately Don's left arm was feeling weak and he only managed two bites before the spills started coming with every spoonful. Charlie knew before he asked but he was hoping he was wrong. "Will you let me help you?"

"I'm really not hungry…..anyway Buddy."

"It's no weakness to admit when you need help Don; especially after you tried your best. Please let me help you."

It was just a whisper but Charlie heard it. "Okay."

Charlie had successfully gotten more than half of the bowl into his brother before he refused anymore.

"Did you sleep yet Charlie?"

"I laid down for a while. Believe me Bro; I have gone without sleep enough to know when it's useless to even try."

"Maybe you can ask that nurse….she probably can give you….something to help."

"I am fine Don. You are the one that needs to rest. Let me let you do that now. Sorry but I have to put that mask back on you."

Don nodded his head. While Charlie was removing the tray and taking the bowl back out to of the room, Don was watching him. His brother was not doing fine no matter how many times he said it. He could see the guilt and pain in his face when he had first come into the room. He could still see the anger in his eyes but it was only there for a minute and then it was hidden.

Charlie was feeling a lot of things and none of them boded well for his mental state. If he didn't want to talk to Don about the feelings it was only going to get worse. Charlie couldn't sleep and Don knew him well enough to know that when he was stressed out, he didn't take care of himself at all. Don was worried about how Charlie would hold up. The last thing he needed was to have to take care of his injured brother alone. He hated to do this but Don knew he had no choice. Knowing he was doing it for his brother more than himself made the decision easier. He removed the mask.

His cell phone was laying on the nightstand. He turned it on and pushed the speed dial button. "Hi Dad. It's me."