"Mmm . . ."
Alan sat up sharply, his eyes searching Don's face. "Don? Son, can you hear me?"
Don's head turned slightly, and he moaned again. His eyes flickered, finally opening. He gasped, reaching up to clutch at his chest. Pain-filled brown eyes sought out his father.
"Dad?" he asked, his voice faint. "What's going on?"
Alan smiled widely, gently cupping Don's face. "You were shot, son, but you're going to be okay. The doctors fixed you up."
"The bust?" Don wanted to know.
"Is taken care of," Alan finished. "Don't worry about work just now."
Don's eyes left Alan and searched the room. "Where's Charlie? I left him at the scene. Where is he?"
"He's fine," Alan assured Don. "You worry about getting better. All right?"
Don, too tired to catch the deflection, settled back against his pillow. His eyes slid shut as if against his will, and he fought to keep them open.
"I 'member . . ." he mumbled.
"Remember what, Donnie?" Alan asked.
"I 'member . . . I heard Charlie calling my name . . ." Don's voice became softer.
Alan began to thread his fingers through his son's hair. "Go to sleep, Don. Everything will be okay when you wake up."
The lull of Alan's strokes sent Don quickly back into slumber. Alan continued to brush his fingers through Don's hair, wanting to soothe his son's pain. He glanced up at the clock, taking note of the climbing hour and hoping that Charlie was indeed all right.
Terry stopped her car outside of the cemetery and climbed out. Larry followed suit, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be there. Nevertheless, he followed Terry through the gates and down the manicured path.
"Are you sure you know which way to go?" Larry asked her.
"I'm sure," Terry replied softly. "I was here last year."
She had gone to support Don during his mother's death, but had been unable to be anything more than another sorrowful look. She only hoped that she could help Don more now, through helping Charlie.
As they neared Mary Eppes' grave, they slowed their pace. They could just make out a figure huddled against the tombstone in the waning daylight. The figure's face was hidden from view, but the mess of dark curls was unmistakable.
Terry and Larry broke into a jog, hurrying over to the young man and kneeling beside him. Terry placed a gentle hand on his back.
"Charlie?" she called softly. "Charlie, are you all right? We've been looking all over for you."
Charlie didn't move. Terry looked at Larry, confusion on her face.
"Charles, can you hear me?" Larry asked.
No response.
Terry reached out and tried to brush Charlie's hair away from his face. "Charlie, we're here to take you to the hospital. Come on, I have my car waiting."
Charlie still didn't move.
"What's wrong with him?" Larry asked.
"I can't tell without looking at him properly, but I think he's catatonic," Terry replied. "I'd rather not call an ambulance out here if we can help it."
"How do you suggest we get him to respond?" Larry asked.
Terry pulled out her cell phone.
"They found Charlie where?"
Alan looked at David incredulously as David guided his car through the streets towards the cemetery. "Are you sure? Charlie hasn't been there since the funeral."
"All I know is that Terry called and told me where she was," David told Alan. "She found him, but she's having trouble getting him to talk to her. It might be the shock from earlier today."
Alan nodded. He hadn't wanted to leave Don's side; the terror of nearly losing Don was still fresh in his mind. But his baby boy needed him, and he would do everything in his power to help.
David had barely parked his car beside Terry's when Alan was out and on his way to his wife's grave. Unlike Charlie, he had been here several times and knew exactly where he was going.
He found Terry and Larry kneeling on the ground beside Charlie, still trying to get him to talk. The sight of his youngest son, huddled by his wife's grave, tore at Alan's heart. He went to Charlie's side and sat down in front of him, barely paying any notice to the others.
"Charlie." Alan cupped a hand behind Charlie's neck. "Charlie, look at me."
No response.
"Charlie, it's me," Alan continued. "It's Dad. I need you to look at me."
"He might not be able to hear you, Mr. Eppes," Terry offered.
Alan glanced at her, then turned back to Charlie. With both hands, he gently lifted Charlie's head up until he could see Charlie's eyes. What he found sent a cold chill down his spine.
The usual spark of intelligence and ever-present naiveté was gone from his son's eyes, leaving behind a pair of cold, empty brown orbs. Alan's thumb brushed against Charlie's cheek, detecting the remains of what could only be tears, and he felt his heart break.
"Oh, Charlie . . ." With some difficulty, he pulled Charlie close to him, drawing him into a tight hug. Charlie fell limply against Alan, supported only by his father's strong arms. Alan held Charlie close, rocking him from side to side.
Terry, David, and Larry watched uncomfortably, unwilling to leave, but not quite sure what to do. Alan ignored them, focusing wholly on his baby boy.
Suddenly, Alan felt something dampen his shirt, and he looked down to see tears falling from Charlie's eyes. They didn't look quite so empty, but the spark was still missing. Encouraged by the sign of life, Alan kissed the top of his son's head and leaned his cheek atop the curls.
"It's okay, Charlie . . . it's all right . . . I'm here."
His words penetrated the fog in Charlie's mind, and he gave a start and pushed away from his father. Alan was too startled to resist, and watched as Charlie fell back against his mother's tombstone, hugging himself tightly.
"Charlie," Alan started.
Charlie's eyes were wide with a wildness no one could recognize. "No . . . you can't be here . . ."
"Where else would I be, Charlie?" Alan asked cautiously.
Charlie shook his head violently. Alan tried to reach for him, but stopped when Charlie jerked back as if burned. He pushed himself away from the crowd, looking around like a wild animal trapped in a corner.
"Charlie, we need to go to the hospital," Alan said, trying a different tactic. "Don's there. You should go see him."
Charlie shook his head again, even more forcefully this time. "No . . . I saw . . . I can't . . . not again . . ."
"What are you talking about, Charlie?" Terry asked quietly.
Charlie grabbed his hair, his knuckles white with the pressure. He fell back against the tombstone, trembling. He was muttering something, but it was too soft to make out.
"What, Charlie?" Alan asked. "What are you saying?"
Charlie didn't move, but his voice grew a little louder. "Sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . . it's all my fault . . .I'm sorry . . ."
"What's all your fault, Charlie?" Terry prompted.
"I . . . I killed Don . . ."
A deafening silence fell over the spectators; no one knew how to respond. Charlie shook against the tombstone, the sounds of his heart-wrenching apologizes broken by sobs rising to their ears.
"Oh my God." Alan moved closer to Charlie and forced his son's face into view. "Charlie, you listen to me. You did not kill Don. You could never hurt your big brother. You love him too much to hurt him."
"I-It was my equation that led him there!" Charlie insisted, losing control of his emotions. "It was my fault he was there! I killed him! I . . . oh God . . ."
He broke down into sobs, unable to speak anymore. Tears poured down Alan's cheeks as he pulled Charlie, now unresisting, into a crushing embrace.
"Charlie, you didn't kill Don," Alan said firmly. "Don's not dead. He's in the hospital. He's going to be fine. Can you hear me? Don's not dead. He's fine. He asked about you. He wants to see you."
The sobs gradually tapered off, Charlie's breath coming in as hitches. "Don's . . . Don's not dead?" The voice was that of a hopeful little boy.
Alan tightened his hug. "Don's not dead. He's going to be fine."
He felt Charlie's hand clutch at his shoulder. He knew Charlie wanted to see Don, but he also knew that Charlie's guilt would hold him back from asking.
He decided to give Charlie a window. "Come on. I'm gonna take you to go see him. He'll be so glad to see you."
Alan stood, helping Charlie to shaky feet. Charlie still looked a little shell-shocked, his face red and stained with tears. With a firm arm around his son, Alan led Charlie down the path to the cars with the agents and Larry in tow.