A/N - Thank you for all your kind comments. Again, a new night in a new town and your comments made my day.

I want to know God's thoughts... the rest are details

110000

Charlie had no idea how long he'd been out. It felt like hours. He was still lying on his stomach, his face turned away from the wall. He was watching the red on the floor that used to be a pool of his blood.

He shifted in bed, only to regret the movement. Charlie's back hurt terribly and the movement didn't help matters. He was pretty sure that if he'd look, he'd find his bed stained from the bleeding in his legs, but he was too sore and too cold to move at this point. He hoped help would come soon.

110001

November 2nd

"Don!" Don heard his brother calling out to him. "Help me. Please. Where are you?" Charlie's voice was pleading.

Don was on the same long corridor and the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. "I'm coming, Charlie. Where are you?" Don was panicking. His brother needed his help and he couldn't find him.

Suddenly, Charlie became very quiet, and Don's apprehension grew. "I'm coming, buddy. Hold on."

Don finally reached a door and opened it. Inside the room he saw the silhouette of a man lying on the floor.

"Help me, Donnie." The figure whispered and Don knew who it was without seeing his face.

Don reached his hand to his brother's neck to check for a pulse only to find none.

"No," Don whispered, staring at his hand which was now covered with Charlie's blood.

"NO," he screamed.

Don woke up startled and took a moment to orient himself. He was in his old bedroom at his brother's house. He had taken to staying in his old room so his father wouldn't be left alone all day and night.

He stared at the red light of the clock next to his bed. It was three AM and Don knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep.

He laid in bed for several minutes, trying to calm himself, the images from his dream haunting him. It didn't take long for the FBI agent's trained ears to hear a familiar sound in the house - the sound of a worried father's restless night. He had seen it the night before. His dad would walk around in the house, searching for someone who wasn't there, and would eventually fall asleep in his youngest son's bedroom, holding his picture.

Don sighed. He wished he could go to his father and help him, but he knew that the fact that he was awake at this hour of the night would only worry his father more. He kept staring at the ceiling and for the first time in a very long time, Don prayed.

110010

Charlie was roused by the door opening.

"Are you awake?" John whispered cautiously.

"Yeah," Charlie croaked.

"Good morning." John smiled brightly at Charlie who hadn't moved an inch. "Sorry I didn't stop by last night."

Charlie calculated fast. He'd been in the basement for over 30 hours with no food or care. John stared at the blood on the floor as he spoke again. "Are you still bleeding?"

"I don't know," Charlie replied sadly.

"What hurts?"

"My back. Left hand." Despite sleeping for many hours, Charlie felt exhausted.

John knelt next to the bed and leaned in for a closer look on Charlie's back. After inspection, he sat back and looked Charlie in the eye. "You have glass in your back," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah." Charlie closed his eyes. He didn't have the energy to deal with this man.

"Let me see your hand." John unwrapped Charlie's makeshift bandage only to reveal a badly discolored wrist. The mathematician watched in detachment as John looked at the swollen limb. "It's probably broken."

Charlie closed his eyes again. "Yeah." He felt his hair pulled back and the collar unlatch and removed.

"Stand up and lean on me instead of your bad leg."

Charlie opened his eyes, surprised. He had forgotten about the twisted ankle. He sat up painfully and paused in his movements. He wanted to run away so badly now that he was free, but found that he could barely hold his head up. He put his feet on the floor, looking at the red stain on his lap as well as the one on the sheets, and sighed.

"I don't want to touch your back so you'll have to lean on me." John offered Charlie his shoulder.

Charlie put his arm around John and let his captor carry most of his weight as they shuffled to the bathroom.

"I should've taken care of this a while ago. I'm sorry I left you this way."

Charlie didn't answer. Speaking required energy and he had none.

John helped Charlie sit on the edge of the bathtub. "Take your clothes off."

With a lot of effort and some help from John, Charlie found himself naked and very nervous. The whole situation was one he was extremely uncomfortable with. John undid the bandages on Charlie's thighs. The mathematician chose to stare at the ceiling as John did it, shivering slightly.

"Those don't look good." John sounded surprised. "Get into the tub. I'll use the water to get those things out of your back."

Charlie sat in the middle of the bathtub, his knees drawn up to his chest.

The water was cold. Charlie noted it since he had been freezing for over a day. The rest of what was happening went over Charlie's head. He knew John was touching his back, removing fragments of broken glass from the tender flesh. He thought the water had a reddish tint to it, but didn't really give it a second thought.

John moved his hand over Charlie's back, feeling for more fragments. "I'm done." Charlie didn't react to John's words, continuing to shake in his almost fetal position in the tub. "Lean back a bit. I think you might still have some glass in your hair." Charlie did as he was told and let John wash his hair for him. He wanted to cry out, but couldn't seem to find his voice. "I think we're done, buddy." Charlie half nodded, half lowered his head, dripping water on his knees.

"I'll let you finish on your own."

Charlie watched John leaving the room like prey would look at his predator, sighing heavily when John was finally out. He washed himself quickly with his right hand, careful with his cuts and bruises.

Charlie turned the water off and climbed out of the bathtub. He took a moment to steady himself before putting some underwear on. He wanted to put something over his cuts before wearing pants and started searching for a makeshift bandage when John walked in.

"Let me patch you up." John sounded like he was feeling sorry for Charlie. It didn't make sense to the mathematician, who couldn't seem to figure it out. "Give me your hand."

"Legs first. I'm cold, I want to get dressed."

John nodded. "Fair enough."

He sat on the floor in front of Charlie, touching him tenderly. "I want to clean these, it's gonna sting."

Charlie nodded and looked away from John's wandering hands. He didn't react to the familiar sting. His only movement was his right hand fidgeting at his side, giving a hint as to how distraught he was. It felt like his mind was working in slow motion, like he was moving through some thick liquid that slows everything down. Cold. Pain. He was processing the world on a very basic level. Alone – good. John – bad.

"Talk to me, Charlie." John sounded upset. Charlie didn't care.

"Cold," Charlie whispered.

John looked at him and then left the room to return with a warm blanket. Charlie didn't register John's actions as he wrapped the blanket around his prisoner. "You were lying half naked in your own blood for too long. You're in shock." John rubbed his hands over Charlie's arms. "This should help."

Charlie wanted to nod in response. He wasn't sure whether he did or didn't.

John turned on the water in the bathtub again. This time, instead of using cold water that wouldn't irritate Charlie's cuts, he ran a hot steamy bath.

"Charlie, look at me." He grabbed Charlie's face, but his eyes didn't focus.

John picked Charlie up and laid him in the tub. "Talk to me, buddy."

110011