Chapter 21

Two days later, Don pushed himself a bit more upright with a wince, expectantly, as Charlie's bed was wheeled into the room. Don had been removed from the CCU the day before, and had spent most of that day in a medicated haze. Today they'd reduced the medication, and he was a bit more coherent, much to Alan's relief. Apparently, in his waking moments, Don had asked every two minutes about Charlie – seeming to forget he'd just asked the question moments before. Alan had teased him about it that morning at breakfast, his voice brimming with barely suppressed joy.

It was good to see a sparkle in his father's eye – a sparkle that was generated partly by the fact that Charlie was improving enough to be moved from the CCU himself that morning, and partly from the fact that Alan had gotten a decent night's sleep last evening.

The evening before last, Alan had remained in the CCU all night, bouncing between his sons' rooms like a ping-pong ball, and yesterday he was exhausted, feeling the effects of the lack of sleep and the stress. Today, things were looking much better. He was rested; his sons were going to be in the same room, and best of all they were improving. Alan knew they were both eager to see each other; he'd tried to reassure them and pass on messages, but he knew it would give them a good deal of comfort to be in the same room. The only fly in the ointment was that Charlie was running a bit of a fever that day, but it wasn't enough to keep him in the CCU. It was now ten in the morning, and they were wheeling him in.

Charlie's head was turned, and his eyes found Don as soon his line of sight allowed him. He waited until he'd been situated and the attendants had left before he spoke. "You're looking good."

His voice was weak, and the words were sarcastic, but they were delivered with a warm smile and an affectionate look. Don grinned back at him. "You've looked better yourself, pretty boy." Charlie's bruises were fading, he noticed, but his brother looked weak, pale, and a little glassy-eyed from the fever.

Charlie's grin widened a little. "Trust me; you're no competition right now." The swelling in Don's face had gone down a great deal, but it was still a study in odd colors, punctuated by the occasional small dark mark that signified a healing cut. "How's your eye?"

Don blinked, as if to test it. It was still somewhat swollen, but he could open it now. "Okay. I can see okay – I think the eye doctor said it was all right. I was a little out of it yesterday." He looked at Alan for confirmation.

Alan beamed at him. "Yes, he said all the damage was confined to area around the eye, which will heal in time." He rose, and Don could almost see the relief emanating from him in waves. "I think I'll go down and get a cup of coffee and a paper. You boys can talk to each other for a change."

He stepped out, and the room grew quiet for a moment. "Dad said your leg is broken," said Charlie softly.

Don shrugged. "Yeah, it's the small bone, and it's just a crack. I don't think they're even going to put a regular cast on it – they're gonna give me an air cast. The ribs actually hurt more. They take my chest tube out today, and I'm supposed to get up and walk." He grimaced. "Not that I'm looking forward to that." He glanced at Charlie with a smile, which faded as he caught his brother's gloomy expression. "What's wrong?"

Charlie looked at him, earnestly, sadly. "I'm sorry – this happened to you because I took that consulting job. I know what you mean now about feeling responsible – it's my fault you're in here."

Don snorted, and shook his head. "Charlie, no it's not. It's Moran's and Walsh's fault, no one else's. You can't be accountable for their actions."

Charlie sent him a sly smile. "Then it follows that you weren't accountable when I was kidnapped. You just argued with your own rationale for assuming responsibility for my consulting work."

Don blinked, and opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for a response.

Charlie smirked, "Gotcha."

Don managed to collect himself, and returned Charlie's gaze, directly. "Regardless, you have to promise me, you'll never do anything like that again. I would never have talked you into that gun if I thought you were going pull something like that."

Charlie huffed softly and laughed, then winced. "You think the gun made a difference? I would have gone anyway, whether or not I had it." His face twisted in self-disgust. "The fact was; the gun was irrelevant - I was too afraid to use it. When I saw Walsh with his pistol to your head…," His voice trailed off, his eyes clouding at the memory, and then he shook his head, morosely. "I just blew that whole thing. Thank goodness your team was coming in behind me."

Don shook his head. "Charlie, you didn't blow it – what you did was one of the bravest things I've ever seen." His heart warmed as he saw Charlie's uncertain smile, and he grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "One of the stupidest, but one of the bravest."

Charlie's smile widened a little. "Two can play at this Superman stuff, you know."

"Superman – oh, no – I'm Superman, you said so. You're more like – the Boy Wonder."

"No way. I'm at least Batman." They grinned at each other, and Charlie sighed, and closed his eyes. "I think I am going to sign up for those classes at Quantico," he said, his eyes still closed.

Don regarded him for a moment. "It's probably a good idea, but you might as well wait for spring now. You're probably going to have surgery on your shoulder, right? And you need to heal up from this, too. They're going to hold some classes right here in L.A. in the spring – you can go to those."

Charlie nodded, his eyes still closed. He looked tired, thought Don. "You feeling okay?"

Charlie sighed and opened his eyes. "Kind of lousy, actually. I think I felt better last night. Maybe I was just so out of it, I didn't know any better."

Don grunted agreement. "Yeah, I hear you there. They had me on the good stuff yesterday." He fell silent for a moment, watching his brother's profile. "I suppose Amita didn't have anything good to say about all this."

He regretted the words immediately, as a look of sadness flitted over Charlie's face, and he closed his eyes again. "I wouldn't know," he said softly. "I haven't talked to her."

Don glanced subconsciously at his feet, as if he expected to find one of them in his mouth. He didn't quite know what to say to that – granted, he knew Amita had been angry with his brother, but he was shocked to find that she hadn't visited, hadn't even called. He looked back at Charlie, who was pretending to be asleep, but Don could see the dejection in his face. Quiet descended, and Don leaned back, settling into his pillow, emotions tumbling through him – sadness for Charlie, relief at seeing him, at talking to him - and something else.

He'd never been dependent on anyone before, but now, when he hadn't expected it, there was Charlie, supporting him in a way that had nothing to do with numbers. It was true his brother was no seasoned agent, and he'd made mistakes in his attempt at rescue, but when Don's life was on the line, he hadn't retreated, hadn't freaked out. Charlie had been there for him unconditionally, with no regard for his own safety. He suddenly realized for the first time in his life that he had someone other than his parents to support him, someone he could lean on if he needed. Charlie had his back. He chuckled a little at the concept, but it gave him a warm feeling, and he smiled as he closed his eyes. "Thanks, Batman," he whispered, and he drifted off to sleep.

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Amita paused nervously outside the door. She'd stepped up to the doorway to knock, only to catch a glimpse of Alan helping Don to his feet, and had stepped backwards immediately out of sight, waiting until they came through the door. Her view had been fleeting, and so she wasn't quite prepared for the sight of Don, hobbling on his braced leg, his face purple with bruises, as he came through the door, with Alan holding one arm.

"We'll just make this a short trip," said Alan, breaking off as he caught sight of Amita, and he and Don just stared for a moment, making her even more flustered.

"I – ah - I thought I'd stop and see how you were doing," she stammered.

Don raised his good eyebrow. "Me, or Charlie?" he asked pointedly.

"B-both." God, this was awkward. "Larry told me what happened."

Don's look was speculative, bordering on suspicious, but Alan's face softened at her obvious distress. "Charlie's asleep right now, but you can go in and sit. If he's not awake when we get back, we'll wake him for you."

She nodded, flushing, dropping her eyes to avoid Don's steady gaze as they moved from the doorway, and made her way inside, not looking up until she was next to Charlie's bed. The sight of him in the hospital bed made her heart flutter in panic – it reminded her so much of him after his kidnapping. He had nearly died, and she had nearly died with him; she still hadn't quite gotten over that. The resulting fear of losing him had been so intense; it had colored her perception of him, of their relationship, ever since.

She sank into a chair, looking miserably at her lap. As horrible as that had been, the last week had been almost as bad. The old adage – "you can't live with 'em, and you can't live without 'em," had been brought home with painful clarity. She couldn't stand for him to be in a position where he might be in danger – she had told herself after his near brush with death that she could never go through that again, it was too painful. She couldn't live that way. Unfortunately, she'd found during the last week that being apart from him wasn't any less painful; she couldn't live that way either.

She was still torn – wondering if she went back to him, if she would somehow be able to come to grips with the fact that his consulting work might sometimes put him in danger – and weighing that against the possibility that if she moved on, the hurt of breaking up would be fierce at first, but would gradually lessen. Was he worth it, she wondered – dealing with that constant fear, on top of the peculiar advantages and disadvantages of his genius, and his own human flaws? Did she love him enough to put up with it all? Perhaps more to the point, did he love her enough to trust her, to confide in her? She had to admit, he'd been doing none of that since the kidnapping.

It hadn't helped that he'd taken this last job in spite of her disapproval, and had nearly been killed again. It hadn't helped, but it had been a catalyst – it had made her decide to face him again, at least to see what he had to say. Maybe, if she was brave enough, to tell him what she really thought. If she did that, it was possible he would confide in her too. The outcome might not be good, but at least they'd know where they stood with each other.

She raised her eyes from her lap, and took in his face. The dear, disheveled curls – God she loved that hair - the stubble on his pale face, the bruises. The sight of him so close made her heart contract, and she reached out without thinking, the longing to touch him overriding rational thought. She grazed his cheek lightly with the back of her hand – he felt too warm, she thought fleetingly - and jerked it back when he stirred. For a moment, she thought he would fall back asleep, but then his eyes flickered open. They looked tired, unfocused, and bright with fever, but as he caught sight of her, they opened wide, and he struggled to sit up, without thinking.

He immediately gasped, his face contorting, and she gasped too, laying a restraining hand gently on his shoulder, as he eased backwards. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed, "I didn't mean to startle you. Your dad told me to come in."

Charlie struggled for composure, taking a deep shaky breath that made him wince again, with a quick glance across the room that told him they were alone. "It's okay," he said, "I just forgot that I can't move like that yet." He lay there as his breathing quieted, just drinking in the sight of her – so wonderful; and so painful at the same time. "Thanks for coming."

The words came out stiffly, and this time, she winced. She looked down, her face reddening, as she searched for words. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She swallowed, and looked up, and at the same time they both said, "I'm sorry."

That wrung a small smile from both of them, but Amita's faded as she forged on, determinedly. "I've been thinking about you – about us. I have to admit, I've been pretty confused. I'm having a hard time lately with your consulting – not the consulting itself, I suppose, but the position it's put you in, with this case. I'm still not sure I can handle this." She waved vaguely, a gesture meant to take in the tubes, the bed, the hospital itself, and tears welled in her eyes. "I wasn't sure I could come here – it reminded me too much of - before," she stopped and struggled for control for a moment, then continued. "I felt I needed to, though – we have to talk."

Charlie's heart dropped at the ominous-sounding last phrase. 'She's getting ready to break it off – for good,' he thought, and he stiffened, as if preparing for a blow.

"What I found out the last week is that, as hard as it is to worry about your consulting work, I'm having just as hard a time with the thought of not being with you anymore." She looked at him, pleading for understanding. "When we started dating, I never dreamed that something like this would happen. I would have had second thoughts about dating anyone in law enforcement, because of the danger, and the stress. There's a good reason why a lot of those relationships end in divorce. You're a teacher - I didn't know you would be pulled into work with the FBI as deeply as you have been. If I had, I might have had second thoughts about even beginning that relationship. But we're here now, and I have to deal with it."

He was silent, and she rushed ahead, her words spilling out quickly, full of emotion. "I know how much it means for you to do this – to work with Don. I don't want to take that from you, or for you to give it up, and then resent me for it. At the same time, I don't know how I will handle this – stress - on our relationship. I've decided though, that I want to try – if you do. If we're honest with each other – if we communicate – maybe we can make it work."

Charlie gaped at her, wondering if he'd registered that correctly. He'd been so sure she was going to use this latest case as an excuse to end it; he was completely unprepared with a response. "Of – of course – I do – I mean I will – I want to try," he stammered. He'd been feeling an odd tightness in his chest as she talked, like a band around his heart, and it suddenly released, making him almost giddy.

A small smile softened the pain in her face. "It means we have to talk – really talk. No surprises. If you need to take cases, please don't let me be the last to know – and in return, I'll try my best not to fuss. I won't guarantee I won't worry, but I'll try not to give you a hard time. Just please don't – lie about it."

Charlie's face fell. "I know," he said softly. "That was wrong. I was trying to get a couple of cases under my belt without incident, and then tell you – I thought maybe it would calm your fears." He snorted softly, and shook his head. "I guess that didn't work out too well." He raised his eyes to hers, apology and longing in his gaze. "I really missed you."

She leaned forward and grazed his forehead softly with her lips. "I missed you, too."

He reached a hand up and pulled her down slightly, snaking his hand through her hair as he drew her into a kiss, deep and soft, and felt his heart soar.

Don and Alan had made the journey down the hall and back, and shuffled up to the doorway to find Charlie and Amita engaged in the kiss, oblivious to their surroundings.

They exchanged a glance, and Alan smiled with satisfaction. "Now, that's more like it."

He wanted to give them privacy, but Don, although he was trying not to show it, was more than ready for his bed, and Alan gently steered him into the room. As they entered, Amita straightened; blushing, but the approving glances from Don and Alan alleviated her embarrassment, slightly.

She felt even better, when Alan said heartily, "Welcome back, dear."

"Thanks," she said softly, and exchanged a smile with Charlie. "It's good to be back."

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End Chapter 21

A/N: One more to go, with some final resolution.