Charlie tearfully watched as his brother succumbed to another wave of sickness. He held his shoulders and pressed his forehead between Don's shoulder blades, praying this bout would be over soon and that Don could finally rest peacefully. A chill swept down his spine as he realized that his brother wasn't too far away from doing just that.
Think positive, he chastised himself. Negative thinking won't get you anywhere.
A low, weak moan slipped past Don's parted lips as he limply hung in his brother's arms, trying to take in enough oxygen to survive.
"Doing good, bro," Charlie whispered as he gently rolled Don back into their father's waiting embrace.
Don had fallen asleep after a morning of being sick and Charlie had begun to feel a little more hopeful. Just as he was allowing himself to relax, his brother had jolted awake and groaned and Charlie had instinctively known what to do.
Now he watched as his father held on to Don and whispered loving words in his ear. Once his brother seemed to be settled and at ease, Charlie glanced out the window and then back to his father. "What time is it?"
Alan awkwardly shifted and looked at his watch. "Twelve-thirty."
Charlie suppressed a frustrated sigh as he made his way to the window and looked at the ground below. "Where are they? Shouldn't help be here by now?"
"Charlie," Alan called softly.
"What?" the despondent young man asked, not tearing his gaze away from the window.
"Come here and sit with us."
"I… I need to be standing right now, Dad. I can't just… sit there any more. I feel useless."
Alan sighed, but didn't push any further. "We don't know how bad it was, Charlie."
The young man glanced over his shoulder at his father, but remained silent.
"The earthquake – and that's what we're assuming this was – could have been a bad one. There may be a lot of people that need to be rescued. Access up here was already limited with the snow and now there might be debris on the road. We just don't know."
"I don't like not knowing," the professor whispered. "It's…" He waved his hands in frustration as he leaned his eyes against the cold glass.
"It's a loss of control for you," Alan informed him. "And you always did like to be in control." His father chuckled softly and Charlie looked up to see him studying Don's face. "You two always did have that in common."
"What do you mean?" Charlie urged his father to continue.
"You both have to be in control. You with your numbers and understanding how the world works, and Don with his emotions and understanding what makes people tick. So different, yet so much alike."
"I never thought of it like that," Charlie replied as he moved back to the bedside.
"Of course not," Alan laughed. "It's something only a parent truly notices. Your mother used to remark on it all the time."
The young man silently nodded as he sat on the bed and rested a hand on Don's cool, clammy cheek. His big brother's face was almost translucent and the sheen of sweat was lessening as his body slowly bled out, draining him of much needed fluids. A light tremor pulsed under his hand as his brother shivered and Charlie gently tucked the covers around him more securely. On impulse, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Don's temple before resting his forehead against his brother's.
"Dad," Charlie mumbled as he closed his eyes.
"Yes?"
"Tell me everything is going to be okay."
"Charlie…"
"Dad," the young man repeated, his voice breaking on the one syllable. "Please tell me."
He heard his father's soft exhalation of breath, followed by a faint whisper. "Everything is going to be fine, Charlie."
--
I've lied to both of my sons today, Alan thought bitterly. I told Donny he would be okay, and now I've gone and told Charlie everything will be fine. I don't know how much longer I can do this – hold myself together for them.
Even as he had that thought, he knew the answer – as long as it took. Either for them to be rescued, or for them to move on to the next phase of their spiritual lives.
Alan frowned at the thought as he stared down at his sons – one sleeping the sleep of someone not long for the world and the other lightly dozing as concern and worry lingered on the periphery. He smoothed Don's hair and repeated the gesture with Charlie, tangling his fingers in the curls and remembering how Don's hair had the same curls when it was longer – undoubtedly why he kept it cut military short. A pang of loss squeezed his heart as he imagined how those curls would have looked on his grandchildren.
I guess I'll never know now.
The thought brought tears to his eyes and Alan found that he was simply too tired to hold them back. The salty moisture ran down his cheeks and ignited a despair the likes of which he'd only felt once before when Margaret was dying.
"My son," he cried softly, burying his face in Don's short, damp hair. "Donny." He tightened his arms around his oldest, as if he could fend off death by sheer willpower alone.
"Dad," Charlie whispered as Alan felt a pair of arms encircle him.
He leaned into his youngest son's touch, all the while keeping a firm grip on Don. Knowing that this was one of the last family moments they would ever share, Alan concentrated on everything around him – the sight of the hotel room's interior, the smell of new construction, the stale taste of the cold, winter air; the touch of his sons' warm, living bodies against his and the sound of three men's harsh breathing as they each struggled to survive.
--
Charlie didn't know how long he'd sat there, holding his father, but the moment was shattered as Don groaned and restlessly turned his head to the side. Suspecting his brother was about to be sick again and knowing that it was sheer torture on his debilitated body, Charlie let go of his father and slid down to lie next to Don.
"Deep breaths," he encouraged. Right, he can barely breathe – deep breaths should be a piece of cake. "In and out."
Don's eyes opened and he stared at his brother with a glazed look in his eyes. "Can't."
"I know, but try, okay?" Charlie reached out and lightly placed his hand on Don's stomach as he had each time before, but quickly yanked it back as Don howled in agony. "Don?"
"Hurts," Don panted as he his hand weakly fisted in the blanket. "God…"
"Dad!" Charlie called in alarm.
"I know," Alan nodded as he shifted out from under Don. "Trade places with me, Charlie."
The younger man obeyed, quickly scampering to the top of the bed and propping his brother against him. His wide eyes watched as Alan sat next to Don's hip and cupped his pale face between his hands.
"Donny? Listen to me, son. Can you hear me?"
"Make it stop," Don pleaded as he clenched his eyes shut against the agony.
"Listen," Alan firmly commanded, waiting until the face sandwiched between his hands nodded. "The pain in your stomach – it's gotten worse?"
"Yes," Don choked out as a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Please tell me he bit his lip, Charlie prayed. Please let that be all it is.
"It hurt when Charlie touched you?" Don nodded and Alan looked up. "You just rested a hand there, right? You didn't push?"
"No!" the younger man exclaimed, taken aback at the mere suggestion that he would hurt his brother. "Of course I didn't push!"
"I was afraid of that," the older man sighed in defeat. "Hold on tight to him, okay? This is going to be ten times worse, I'm afraid."
"What are you going to do?" Charlie demanded as he clung to his brother for dear life. "You're going to hurt him on purpose?"
"I need to check something." Alan gave his youngest son a hard look until he was certain Charlie was ready. "Don? I'm so sorry, son. I'm going to be as gentle as I can… This is going to hurt, Donny."
"Dad," Don whispered in confusion. "What-" He stopped speaking and an agonized yell was ripped from his lungs. Even in his weakened state Don managed to arch his body against Charlie's grip as he sobbed in pain. "Stop!" he openly begged, in too much pain to care how he sounded.
Alan blinked back tears but stayed focused on his task, lightly palpating Don's abdomen and wincing as he cried out at each touch.
"Dad," Charlie spoke up for his brother. "My God, Dad – what are you doing?"
"I'm done now," Alan whispered as he shifted his hands to Don's face, wiping at the tears staining his son's cheeks and smoothing back the sweaty hair. "I'm so sorry, Donny."
As soon as Alan had stopped prodding Don's midsection, the weakened agent had collapsed heavily onto Charlie chest and panted for dear life. Charlie buried his face in the crook of Don's neck and fought back his own tears. "It's okay, it's over," he soothed, though he suspected Don was too far gone to understand the words. "It's over, Don. It's over. You did good." He kept talking in the hopes that his voice would reach his brother, even if he couldn't comprehend the words. After a few minutes, Don was blissfully unconscious and Charlie dragged his eyes away from his brother to lock onto his father's face. "What is it?' he asked, terrified of what was coming.
"His abdomen is rigid and tender to even the lightest touch," Alan spoke softly, his tone flat and hopeless.
"What does that mean?" Charlie demanded.
"It means the bleeding's gotten worse." Alan looked finally looked up from his lap and Charlie's breath was taken away at the utter despair in the older man's expression. "It won't be long now."
"Won't be long?" he asked shakily.
"We should keep him comfortable. Make sure he knows we're here."
"But… He…" Charlie's voice sounded just like it had when he was a kid and his father could keep him safe from everything in the world, no matter how big or bad it was. "Dad?"
Alan leaned forward and pulled Charlie to him, turning his head so that his lips were against his son's ear. "Strong," he reminded Charlie. "Strong for Don."
Although every fiber of his being was screaming for him to do something, Charlie knew they were out of options. There was nothing they could do except be there for Don. His heart was breaking and his mind went numb, yet something inside him clicked into place. Despite the fact he wanted to curl up and die right next to his brother, he felt a strength flowing into his veins that was unfamiliar, yet comforting.
"Strong," he whispered to his father, surprised at how steady and calm his voice had become. "For Don."
Alan resumed his place against the headboard with Don resting against him, his head on his father's right shoulder. Charlie sat on his father's left and carefully rested his head on his father's other shoulder. He started to drape his arm protectively over Don, but realized that would only cause his brother pain. He settled for taking Don's hand in his, smiling as Alan repeated the gesture with Don's right hand. The youngest Eppes slipped his free arm around his father's back and felt his heart warm as Alan lightly embraced him with his left arm.
The three men lay in the bed together – one waiting for fate to claim him and the other two ready to make his journey as comfortable as possible.
--
The pain was gone.
That was the first thing Don thought as his eyes slid open.
And I'm warm. I feel… loved.
His vision cleared and he slowly recognized the hotel room. Sliding his gaze to the side, he saw Charlie lightly dozing next to him, gripping his hand in his.
Charlie, Don smiled inwardly. My wonderful baby brother. Annoying as hell sometimes, but always looking up to me, whether I wanted you to or not. You'll have to be strong for Dad and help him when I'm gone.
When I'm gone? In the back of his mind, Don was pretty sure that thought should be making him uneasy, but he felt incredibly calm. I guess I've accepted what's happening.
"That's right, dear."
Don shifted his gaze to stare straight ahead and found his mother standing at the foot of the bed. Again, he was certain that should unnerve him, but it seemed so… right.
"Mom," he whispered hoarsely, his voice too low and soft to disturb his father or brother.
"It's me, baby. I came to check on you guys. I leave you alone for a few years and look what you get yourselves into." She smiled as she spoke and seemingly floated closer to the bed. "The pain's gone, Donny."
"Yes."
"That's good." She smiled and placed a transparent hand on his cheek. He knew he should be surprised by how warm and real it felt, but he wasn't. Somehow it made sense that she would be real to him when he was so close to joining her.
"You're here for me?" Don asked, not frightened at all by the prospect.
Margaret graced him with a loving smile and leaned close to his ear. She quietly whispered to him but a sudden roaring in Don's ears obscured her voice. His vision tunneled and time seemed to stand still. "Mom," he breathed as he surrendered to the darkness.
TBC