A/N: I know - it's more like "L" is for "Late", but I travel for the holidays, and it's always a time killer. To make up for it, it's longish. And the next is well on its way. Hope everyone had a lovely holiday, and a blessed new year.

And Patty, you do - more than you know.

Chapter 25

Charlie was sitting up, knuckling his eyes with his fists, when he returned; David sitting on the rollaway stool next to him, carefully toiling away at some version of that ubiquitous paperwork Donnie was always lugging about. They both looked up expectantly when he pulled back the curtain.

"Well," he tried to sound normal as he entered. "How are you feeling, Charlie? You have a little more color."

"I'm - um - " Charlie nodded vaguely, fiddling with the plastic ID band around his wrist. "Did you see Don?"

Alan fought back a sigh and managed a perfunctory smile instead. "No - uh - " he perched on the examining table next to Charlie and draped an arm over his shoulders. "They - still have some cleaning up to do on him, apparently. But I did meet with his doctor." He noticed that David had lowered his paperwork to listen too and turned to include him in the conversation.

"So? What does the doctor say?"

"Uh - well - she doesn't think there's anything life-threatening - that's good news. Of course, he's pretty battered, but I guess you already knew that." Both David and Charlie just looked at him, so he forced himself to continue. "He has - um - a - flail chest, if you know what that is - broken ribs. She wants to keep him overnight to watch his breathing."

Charlie looked at his feet. "Don was sure they'd just clean him up and send him home."

"Yes - well. Unbridled, if unmerited, optimism is part of your brother's charm."

David smiled. Charlie didn't. Alan raised his brows at David and he stood abruptly. "I could - uh - find a doctor to check out Charlie - see if he can be released."

Alan gave him a grateful nod. He watched David push through the curtain, then turned to Charlie. "So. Something you want to talk about?"

Charlie wrinkled his forehead. "I - uh - don't know where to start."

"The beginning is usually as good a place as any."

"There isn't exactly…" He let go of the plastic ID band and faced Alan. "I - part of me was so relieved that I didn't have to shoot anybody, as though doing that would somehow make me less - even though it could save Don's life. What kind of a person does that make me?"

Alan met his gaze, wishing he didn't feel quite so out of his depth. "I'm not sure not wanting to shoot someone is a bad quality, Charlie."

Charlie was broodingly silent. "Don's done it," he said at last. "So, does that mean I think he's less than me for it? That it makes him less?"

Alan studied his face. "Why don't you tell me?"

Charlie finally shook his head. "No. So, why is it okay for him and not for me? And - and - " he closed his eyes. "And even while I was so relieved, there was a part of me - a part of me that - that really wanted to blow that guy's brains out. To shut him up. To make him leave us alone, to make him - stop. I don't - how can I make sense of that? I'm - I'm not proud of either feeling, but - I just can't seem to make sense of it."

Alan gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Maybe it doesn't make sense."

Charlie shook his head firmly. "That's - that's not possible." He was quiet. "It's like - there were these two new and different people living inside me - people that I didn't know anything about. I'm over thirty, how can that even be possible?"

Alan smiled a little. "I'm over sixty, Charlie - and I find new pieces of myself all the time. New experiences do that to you. And this one is very new for you - give yourself some time."

"Time." Charlie's smile grew a little grim. "Larry would say that time is just - an illusion on simultaneous planes. Maybe he's right."

"Maybe. But it's an illusion we're stuck with." Alan squeezed his shoulder again. "Charlie, you can talk to me about anything and I'll listen as long as you ask, but in this case - I don't think I'm the person you should be talking to. I've never shot a man - never even come close. I think your brother could be a lot more helpful here."

Charlie's eyes widened with horror. "I can't tell this to Don!"

Alan frowned. "Why's that?"

"Because - how can I tell him that I even thought about hesitating to shoot when it was his life at stake? He'll think - he'll think - " he returned his gaze to his shoes with a wince, "that I'm a coward," he whispered.

Alan rubbed between his shoulder blades. "Somehow, I think he'd understand - maybe even better than you do yourself. Why don't you give it a try?" Charlie eyed him doubtfully. "Well, think about it anyway."

They sat in pensive silence. "I have a conundrum of my own I'm working on," Alan offered conversationally. Charlie looked at him. "In all this time - " he hesitated, shook his head. "In all this time you've been working together, I knew how helpful you were to Don, and I knew how he looked out for you. I wasn't always comfortable with it, but because of the one, I could live with the other. It never even once occurred to me…" He fixed his eyes on the plastic loops that suspended the curtain along the rail at the cubicle entrance. "It never even occurred to me that he might - someday - need you to look out for him - or that you would be prepared to do it. Right now I guess I can't decide which of those I feel worse about."

Charlie's face softened. "How about neither?"

Alan tried to smile at him. "Remember when you were little? Your mother and I used to tell you to keep track of each other? The buddy system, we called it. Guess maybe we need to reinstate that."

Charlie snorted softly. "We called it the buddy system - but even at that age I knew you really meant that Don was to look out for me."

Alan shrugged. "Things change. People grow up."

This time, Charlie did smile. "Thanks for noticing."

Alan's eyes narrowed slyly. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Mr. Eppes?"

Both men swiveled to the cubicle opening simultaneously. The nurse smiled. "I guess I mean Mr. Alan Eppes. Your son Don is being settled in his room right now, if you want to see him."

Alan stood hastily, then glanced at Charlie. "I think we'd both like to. How is he? Is he conscious?"

"In and out. I warn you, he's not very coherent." She glanced at Charlie's patient band dubiously.

"It's all right if Charlie moves around, isn't it? We're just waiting to see if the doctor will release him."

"I suppose so…" The nurse made a note on a post it and stuck it to the cover of the chart. "As long as we can keep track of him. Don is in room 517."

Charlie hopped off the table, took a second to steady himself on his feet. At his father's questioning glance he nodded assurance. "Let's go."

They found Megan outside of Don's room on the fifth floor, busily taping something into a brown paper bag. She looked up from writing across the tape as they approached and smiled at them. "How are you doing, Charlie?"

"I'm - " Charlie looked as if he really wished people would stop asking that. "Um - you've seen Don?"

Megan glanced a little self-consciously at Alan. "Official business."

Alan's smile was strained. "Guess I need to find myself a more official role than 'father of the victim'."

"Alan, I was - " she gestured to the paper bag. "Collecting evidence. Getting his statement. I didn't want to leave it to strangers."

Alan nodded uncertainly. "I know. This has just - not been my best day."

"I know…" Megan gripped his arm, her eyes moving from him to Charlie. "Um…not to make it worse, but I think they're only letting him see one person at a time."

Charlie blinked.

Alan rubbed at a vein beginning to throb in the middle of his forehead. After a second, he said, "You go, Charlie."

Charlie looked hopeful, then forced an unconvincing smile. "No - Dad - I can wait."

"No." Alan sounded more certain this time. "I think you could use some closure. Besides, I'd like to sit with him for a bit, and I can't do that if I'm thinking about you waiting outside. You go see him, then you can see the doctor."

Charlie glanced at the door, then back at Alan. "You sure?"

"Positive." Alan watched him push the door inward and pause on the threshold, then pulled his eyes away as the door swung closed behind him. He turned to Megan. "Evidence? What kind?" Why did he always feel compelled to ask about these things?

"Oh, photos - Don's clothing. His statement."

"Do I want to see them?"

Megan made a face. "I don't think so."

Alan nodded. "Then how about I buy you a cup of bad coffee?"

Megan brightened. "Alan, that's by far and away the best offer I've had all day."

000

Charlie stepped inside and paused, trying to get his bearings. The room seemed quiet after the bustle of the ER, and Don suddenly looked like a stranger, propped up in the narrow bed with one arm affixed to his chest by a sling and white gauze around his head, covering one eye. Charlie hung back, wondering if he should say something, or if it would be better to let Don sleep. Helpless to know what to do with his hands, he picked up the binder at the end of the bed and leafed through it. Information. That's always good.

Don stirred slightly, then carefully twisted his head in his direction, blinked ponderously. "Hey, buddy…" he whispered drowsily.

Charlie smiled, suddenly feeling as though his own breathing was unobstructed for the first time all day. Buddy. The buddy system. "Hey." He dropped the chart and dragged a nearby chair close to the bed and sank into it. From this vantage point, he could see Don's uncovered eye struggle to focus on him, noticed the slow, careful pull of his breathing.

Don coughed. "….nice…threads."

Charlie glanced down at the blue scrubs the nurse had given him to replace his blood-spattered clothing. "At least mine come with pants," he retorted.

Don gave an appreciative grunt. "…touché." His expression changed slightly, the eye trying to fix on Charlie through a sluggish blink. It came to rest on the ID band around his wrist. "You…? You…?"

"No." Charlie interjected hastily. "They just - you know. Probably I'm going to be released." He gave him a pointed stare. "Unlike you."

Don grimaced. "…head injury. Gets you…every time."

"Uh huh. You have four. Actually."

Don managed to look a little indignant. "Two. Tops. One…self-inflicted. Doesn't count."

"Your chart says four." Don's forehead furrowed and Charlie gestured first to his eye, then his cheekbone.

"Those…those are just…what are you doing…reading my chart…anyway…? Aren't there…privacy…? HIPAA…or something…?"

Charlie shrugged indifferently. "Probably."

Don stared at him again, iris cloudy, frowning with concentration. Charlie watched his throat move in a long swallow. "How…you managing…?"

Charlie looked down at his hands. "Everybody keeps asking me that. I - don't really know what to say."

Don gave an abbreviated nod. "Lots…to process…" He closed his eye, right hand lifting clumsily from the sheet, then dropping back. "If you need to…talk…there's me or Megan…helps. David and Colby, if that's…better."

"You don't talk about it," Charlie pointed out.

Don sighed heavily, which must have hurt, because Charlie watched him squeeze his eyes closed for a minute, mouth tight. "Said…if you want. Usually…you talk."

Charlie nodded reluctantly. "I guess. I talked to Dad a little."

"Dad." Don opened the eye, studied Charlie wearily. "He…gonna…rip me…a new one…?"

Charlie looked surprised. "What? No. Why…? Oh." He made a face. "I don't think so. I mean, you look so - "

"Pitiful…?" Don's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "That's what…Megan says."

"Well, I was going to say 'like crap', but yeah, pitiful works too."

Don's smile stretched to a grin. "…harsh…"

"It's my brotherly job. Anyway, he'll be so busy with the chicken soup and the hot water bottle thing that he won't be able to think of anything else."

Don groaned. "…God…"

Charlie grinned. "Well, one of you will be having a good time anyway."

Don tried to turn on his side, stopped with a soft hiss. "…mean streak…" he complained.

"Yeah," Charlie's grin was unrepentant. "Or maybe I'm just thinking 'better you than me'."

Don's smile slipped. "….yeah." He tried to turn on his side again to face Charlie, swore breathlessly when he failed. "…about…that…" Charlie stilled, suddenly not sure this was something he wanted to talk about. "…sorry, buddy…"

That wasn't what Charlie had been expecting. "About what?" he asked, bewildered.

"…that you had to…" Don gulped. "…you know…"

Charlie stared, then puffed a laugh. He laughed harder at Don's puzzled look. "It's just - " he tried to catch his breath. "I was - going to say that to you."

"…you?" Don tried to lift his hand again, had a little more success this time. "…for…?"

"I guess I - felt like I screwed things up. I didn't know what I was doing."

Don breathed out a laugh of his own. "Man. …you, me, Megan…what a mess. Charlie, you did…great. I mean, you scared about…twenty years off my life, but…"

"You? Well, what about me? How do you think I felt? I'm afraid to look in the mirror and find out my hair's gone grey!" He blinked hard, suddenly beset again with the image of the smoky, blood-stained hallway. Probably he'd be seeing that every time he closed his eyes for a while.

"Yeah." Don just looked at him. "…guess that's…what I meant. Sorry."

"Well, I'm not," Charlie shot back, wondering if he was telling the truth or not. "It was - an experience." He leaned forward confidingly. "How big was that guy anyway?"

Don rasped a chuckle. "Real big. Why is it…the scrawny ones…never plot revenge…?"

"How did you get him last time?"

"Coop and me…had to double team him." Don gave him half a smile. "…kind of like…this time."

"The buddy system."

"…huh?"

"Never mind." Charlie watched Don's eye flutter closed again and grinned knowingly. "What kind of drugs they got you on?"

Don forced the eye back open, only to have it drop shut again. "Lots…" he murmured. "…lots and lots…"

"I can tell. I better not tire you out before Dad sees you, or he'll be harping at me instead." Don didn't answer and he watched him for a minute, trying to decide if he was asleep or just resting. He wondered what it was Don saw when he closed his eyes.

He put his mouth close to Don's ear. "Hey, Don? I'm gonna go now, but I'll be back."

Don moved his head, but his eye stayed closed. "…kay. If you…need…"

"Yeah." Charlie patted his arm, lightly thumbing the strip of white bandage that decorated his wrist, trying not to think about how they had looked, bloody and inflamed, when he had tried to uncuff them. Another image that was going to revisit him, no doubt. There were a lot of them. He wondered for how long. Still…"You too."

Don didn't stir, but Charlie watched him for a minute; the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, the darkening bruises under the crisp white of the gauze. For the first time since it happened, he felt a small glow of rightness and purpose, of clarity in the confusion. Probably that wouldn't last…probably he had a rocky road ahead, but… it all could have ended so differently. He remembered the sound of the shotgun being readied, the reverberating roar when it fired, how it made him feel, how terrified. One more gaping hole almost torn in the fabric of his life. He could feel the faint thrum of Don's pulse under the bandages. But that's not what had happened. And in the end, almost didn't really count for anything.

"And Don…?" His eyes were suddenly swimming with moisture and he blotted at them with the heel of his hand. He wasn't going to bawl in front of his brother, asleep or no. "I want you to know…" He didn't even know if Don could hear him, only knew that he needed to say it. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

"…fall out or whatever? It was worth it."

TBC