Disclaimer: see chapter 1
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54. Picking up the Shards
With a stony expression on his face, Don stood behind the two-way mirror, his jaw set and his teeth gnashing. His right hand was clenched to a fist while his left one was restlessly playing with the hem of his jacket. He realized now that it had been a good idea to stay outside and merely watch the interrogation being conducted by David and Colby instead of being a part of it himself, and he also realized that it had been a good idea to listen to Megan's advice and stay away from the police headquarters in Ennis. Well, until now. He'd decided to relieve himself of that self-imposed restriction and he'd thought he'd be okay with this now. He had the knowledge that Charlie was okay, that he would come home some time next week. He'd thought this knowledge would be enough to get him through this.
As it turned out, it wasn't. No matter how much he reminded himself of the fact that his brother was going to be fine, he couldn't shake his rage. He tried concentrating on the mere facts, on Colby's and David's way to conduct the interrogation, on technicalities, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't stop staring at the suspect, Wayne Taccone, his eyes firing daggers at the man that had been holding his brother captive for days. The man that had once been on their side, an agent like them, sworn to protect and serve.
Filled with a kind of hatred he couldn't and wouldn't let go of, even though it was making it hard for him to breathe, Don examined the suspect's face. He had brown eyes, even though they didn't held the warmth that could be found in Charlie's, black hair, a slightly darker complexion. His file stated that he was a third-generation immigrant, his grandfather having immigrated to the States almost eighty years ago.
The expression on Taccone's face was slick. Unrevealing. Don could only guess what might be going on in that head right now, whether or not Taccone was insecure or frightened. He certainly didn't look like it. He seemed very sure of himself, and in any case not ready to cooperate. Not even after David and Colby had started to confront him, in well-dosed packages, with the new information they had gathered. It didn't have any effect on him, though. He kept telling them that he didn't know where his accomplices were, that there were no other hiding-places, no emergency plans. The worst thing was that they couldn't even tell whether or not he was lying.
And did it even matter now? They were going to stop the interrogation soon anyway. Megan, David and Colby would return to L.A. in a couple of hours. The search for Daniel Rosenthal, Cedric Patter and Mike Kirtland wasn't their business anymore, but the task had been assigned to Blake's team, and Don was completely disillusioned. He was quite aware that their task wasn't very likely to succeed and that Blake's team and Ian would return to Virginia within a few days as well. It was improbable that they would find further clues up here. What would remain for them to do was paperwork, writing up the reports and putting away the files to turn to a new case. At least that was what Blake's team would do, for one could never predict the actions Ian Edgerton would take. Maybe he would stay on the case, maybe not. One thing was certain, though: Don wouldn't rest as long as those three perpetrators were still on the loose.
For now, he had some personal time to take care of that, for he wouldn't return home with his team, but with his family. That still gave him a couple of days to learn more about the route those three men might have taken, and he would make ample use of that. Those were the men who had kidnapped his brother, they were three men that still presented a risk to him and Don would be damned if he stopped looking for them before he'd find them.
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Alan still wasn't convinced by a long shot. "Just be sensible, Charlie, it's far too soon for that," he tried to explain to his son.
"To soon?" Charlie's voice, still not back to its usual strength, cracked a little. If he hadn't heard the words loudly and clearly, he would have thought he had misunderstood his dad. This way, the only reasonable explanation to him was that his father hadn't thought a second about those words before uttering them. He just wasn't sure whether he'd have the energy to explain to him that it was far from too soon, that on the contrary he'd been longing for over half a year to come home, that he was longing for everything to become normal again, that he didn't want his dad and Don having to stay up here in Montana just because of him, that he wanted to see Amita and Larry again, that he wanted to go home…
"We'll see what your doctor has to say about that," his dad said, and it seemed to Charlie as though he was pretending to compromise while at the same time he was sure to have an ally in the doctor.
Charlie chose this moment to turn his eyes to the clock on the nightstand, thus turning away from his dad and saving himself from having to think of an answer that wouldn't start a fight. According to the clock, it was past half past six in the evening. Time for the ward round.
And indeed, few seconds later the door to his room opened and Dr. Bell entered, the ward physician.
"Good evening, how are you feeling tonight?"
"Much better," Charlie said, and it wasn't even a lie. "That's why I meant to ask you when you plan to release me."
Alan thought that Charlie was rushing it a bit to raise this topic, just as he was rushing it with his desire to leave the hospital. Patients had to be patient, though.
The doctor studied the file, grimaced a little and finally said, "No sooner than Tuesday."
Alan stared at him. Tuesday? That was the day after tomorrow! There was no way Charlie could leave the hospital the day after tomorrow. He tried his best to remain calm and polite, though. "Don't you think this would be a little too soon?"
"Dad!" Charlie protested, but was ignored by the two elder men.
"It would be a release with certain strings attached," Dr. Bell admitted. He seemed to have a very clear idea on what was going on in the other men's heads. "He'd have to rest a lot and keep a close watch on his fluid and food intake, but if those conditions are met with, I don't see why his state should deteriorate outside the hospital." Now he turned towards his patient. "At bottom, you are healthy, Dr. Eppes – well, apart from the fracture in your leg of course. You're probably still feeling rather weak and exhausted due to the dehydration and the effects of the blood poisoning. This is completely normal though and should pass with time, but only if you grant your body the necessary rest and resources to regenerate. You'll have to sleep a lot, drink a lot and keep an eye on your food and mineral intake, and you'll absolutely have to avoid any stress or exertion. If these criteria are met and if you don't feel worse tomorrow, I can agree to releasing you Tuesday morning. In that case, the fracture of your tibia should be dealt with in an outpatient treatment, but that would be the least of our worries."
"Alright," Charlie said and couldn't quite ban the triumphant overtone from his voice. "Thanks, Dr. Bell."
Alan, however, wouldn't abandon the field so easily. "But what about transport? Charlie's planning on returning home to California once he gets released, surely Tuesday would be too early for that, right?"
"As a matter of fact, the mobility problem is why I chose Tuesday instead of tomorrow. Granted, California isn't round the corner, but I would still say it shouldn't be too much of a problem if you feel you're up to it, Dr. Eppes. We can see tomorrow where we stand." Alan was about to protest, but Dr. Bell had some practice in getting out of affairs he had neither business nor desire being a part of. "You'll probably want to discuss that further privately, I'll leave you to that. Have a nice evening," he said and an instant later, was out of the door, leaving behind the two conflicted parties.
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Don was feeling rather weary as he dragged himself through the hospital corridors. G-d, he'd be so relieved once they'd finally be able to go back home. He'd never say that, however. Charlie had gone through so much lately that he really didn't need Don to put pressure on him now. The thing that mattered was that he was getting back on his feet, and if they'd have to stay up here for another couple of days, that would be more than worth it.
He'd hardly entered Charlie's room when he realized that something was up. True, his brain was a bit slower than usual due to his overall exhaustion, but he couldn't miss the fact that there was a conflict smoldering. He didn't have much time though to wonder what it was about, for his family had noticed his arrival and was ready to drag him into whatever this was.
"Donnie, finally, it's good you're here," his dad greeted him. "Maybe you can talk some sense into your brother and make it clear to him that he should take better care of himself."
"Dad, I'm not –" Charlie began, but apparently didn't know how to make his point and turned towards Don, seeking support, "Dad thinks I should stay here for who knows how long, but I'm fine. And the doctor also said he's going to release me Tuesday."
"At the earliest!" Alan reminded him. "He too would prefer having you here a little longer than that."
"No, he wouldn't, because if I leave Tuesday he's got one patient less to worry about."
Don didn't know for how long this argument had been in progress, but in any case it was long enough for Charlie to have become so hoarse his voice sounded more like Darth Vader than like himself. Granted, due to the dehydration his voice hadn't been normal ever since they'd found him, but it had actually steadily improved. As long as he hadn't overexerted himself.
"Come on, Charlie, you have to be sensible!" their dad continued his insistence.
"So Tuesday, huh?" Don said before Charlie had a chance to strain his voice even further, stating the words calmly and without taking either of their sides.
They turned towards him, Charlie a hopeful expression on his face. "Exactly," he said, obviously thinking he'd found an ally. "They want to keep me here tomorrow for some further observation, but we could go back home sometime Tuesday."
"How?" Don asked.
"Don! You cannot be serious!" Alan interjected. "How can you –"
"I just want to know how this would work," Don mollified him. G-d, he had to get rid of that head-ache somehow, and this situation wasn't helping one bit. "How do you plan on going back home?"
"By plane," Charlie said without hesitation.
Don frowned. "You can do that?"
"Of course. I'll probably need some help with the crutches and everything, but if you considered that a crucial hurdle, we'd have to stay up here for another couple of weeks." Out of the corners of their eyes, they both could see the thought forming behind their dad's forehead, and Charlie quickly added, "Don't even think about it."
"I'm just thinking that you shouldn't rush anything now," their dad said, still upset. "You're still –"
"I'm not rushing anything, Dad!" Charlie protested, and his tone left no doubt as to how tired he was getting of this argument.
"Alright," Don said, trying to mediate before the conflict would get out of control. "Why don't we just look at the facts: Charlie says he's feeling well enough to go back home, and he's the one who should know it best." He went on talking before his dad could protest, "I think we should just give it a try. After all, he just has to get on a plane, not walk all the way to Pasadena. We'll just have to avoid any form of exertion and then he should be fine. Alright?"
Alan was silent while Charlie assented, satisfied. Don breathed a small sigh of relief. For tonight, the matter was settled, so there was one less thing to worry about. That was good. He wouldn't have had any strength for more to come, he was beat.
"Okay then, I'll see you guys tomorrow, I'm heading back to the hotel."
He was feeling a twinge of a guilty conscience, thinking that the argument might re-ignite once he left. In the end, however, his exhaustion trumped those considerations, for he feared he might collapse there and then if he didn't grant his body some rest soon. He had no idea that his appearance was more than enough to distract the remaining Eppes men from their disagreement.
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Charlie was relatively sure that he didn't like what he was seeing there. Ever since he'd woken up in the hospital, he'd noticed – and he'd seen it ever more clearly the better he had gotten – how exhausted Don looked. It wasn't hard to guess where that exhaustion came from. From what Charlie had learned, it seemed as though Don had been looking for him more or less incessantly for the past couple of weeks, day and night. He'd hardly slept anymore and had been constantly living in a state of tension. All because of him.
Charlie swallowed. There was no way around it, if he hadn't accepted that stupid assignment last fall, none of this would have happened. Even worse, Don had seen right from the beginning that he shouldn't have accepted the job, he had vainly tried to dissuade him, and now he was paying for Charlie's stubbornness.
"Dad?" His voice was thin and he knew he couldn't solely blame the dehydration for that.
"What is it?" his father asked absentmindedly. He was still looking thoughtfully at the closed door behind which Don had disappeared few moments earlier.
Charlie hesitated, not knowing how to form into words what was on his mind. In the end, he just asked (and it didn't just make him feel a little silly, but also more than a little uncomfortable), "Is he alright?"
He felt even more silly when he heard his father's soft and bitter laugh. He knew he shouldn't ask questions everyone knew the answer to. At first he thought his dad would leave it at that, but after a couple of seconds he got a reply after all. "No," he said, still staring at the door as though he was still seeing the stooped form of his eldest son there. "No, I don't think so."
Charlie swallowed. He was so not comfortable with this conversation, but he knew he couldn't hide from it. They had to find a solution to this problem, both for Don's sake and for theirs, so he consulted the one person who usually had the solutions to that kind of problems. "What should we do?"
At least his dad finally took his eyes off the door, turning towards him, but the look Charlie could see in those eyes wasn't the calm one of the man with all the answers. Instead, it seemed troubled and sad.
"I don't know," came his quiet reply after some time. Again, he let some moments pass before he went on, "Wait and see, I guess."
Charlie looked down at his hands and nodded, pretending to be satisfied with that answer. These days everything seemed to amount to that debilitating waiting, to a waiting that he still didn't know how it was supposed to make things better.
He looked up, unable to keep quiet any longer. "And what if that won't work?"
Alan raised his eye-brows, eyeing him seriously. "In that case," he said slowly, accentuating every word, "I think talking would be the method of choice."
Charlie looked back down at his hands. So talking. Even worse than waiting. Well, actually it wasn't him who had a problem with that, not really. He would have confided in Don, probably, but he had no illusions about the onesidedness of that feeling. Don never let it show what was going on inside him, and he especially wouldn't let his little brother come close to him, that was just one more thing which showed how different they were.
On the other hand… It was obvious that Don wasn't okay, that he was fighting inner demons, and if that was the case, wasn't it Charlie's duty to help him, especially after everything that Don had done for him? And if he wanted to help him, he first had to understand what the problem was, so in a way, it was his brotherly duty to figure out what was going on with Don, and that meant that he had to make him talk, whether Don wanted to or not.
Still… he knew that Don wouldn't get involved with something like that. He wasn't a touchy-feely guy. If Charlie tried to talk to him about his emotional state, he would either pretend that nothing was wrong (which was one of the better case scenarios) or tell him in no uncertain ways to mind his own business, and Charlie didn't think he could take that kind of rejection from his brother right now.
And he didn't want to think about it. He was just so tired… Why did everything have to be so complicated? Things were supposed to be good now. This whole time, Charlie had been fervently longing to be back with his family, because he'd been convinced that once they were together again, everything would be okay. Now, however, he was here, and all he could see were devastation and despondency. Each of them had their cross to bear, and each of them was facing problems that were keeping them awake at night. Yet none of them seemed to be ready to seek each other's company to talk about that.
He sighed. He was in no position to point the finger. He knew he should start talking, he'd even made a promise to himself to do that when he had realized that he had to tell his dad and Don and Amita and Larry about his betrayal, that he couldn't live with keeping it a secret from them that he'd given himself up. Until now, however, he'd kept his silence and done what they were all doing, keeping to himself and not letting anyone in on what was bothering him, and he hadn't even broken his promise by doing that since that promise didn't come with any deadline attached. However, he felt that the longer he waited to tell them, the harder it would become and the more the impending task would depress him.
He looked at his dad who was standing at the window now, looking outside into the night. He even opened his mouth and thought that he would do it there and then, but he didn't have the guts. How would his dad react to news like that? How would they all react? And was it really necessary to bring up again what had happened in the park? It was over… Yet he knew why he'd resolved to tell them, because deep down he knew that it wasn't really over, not as long as those moments kept coming back to him to haunt him.
He turned his head away from his dad and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the hospital room, not wanting to see anything that reminded him of everything that had happened lately. He could feel desperation rise inside him. Why couldn't everything just go back to the way it had been?
