Brothers in Arms 4/5
Chapter Three:
Don woke to find the room bright and sunny. Daytime, although which day it was was completely beyond Don's comprehension. He'd lost track of time in captivity and now couldn't seem to stay awake long enough to remember to ask for a calendar update.
He glanced over at Charlie and noticed his respirator had been removed. He still looked wan, but some color at least had started to return.
His father was lying on a cot in the corner with a book over his face, snoring quietly. Terry was missing in action, but there was a note by his bedside attached to his water cup. 'Drink up! Will be back soon. - T.'
Don's doctors had finally taken him off his IV and he was starting to be able to eat and drink again after being fed intravenously since he was brought in. It felt strange to eat and his body could only handle the most basic comfort foods, but Don was just grateful to have food again after having been denied it for so many days.
Don reached over to Charlie and took his hand. It seemed warmer somehow and Don hoped it wasn't just his imagination.
"Charlie, please..." Don whispered. "Please come back to me. I can't do this without you. Dad needs you too. Come back to us..."
Don squeezed Charlie's hand and sighed. No matter what Charlie's doctors said, he wouldn't believe his brother was going to make a full recovery until he woke up and told him so himself.
Don turned his head away from the sun, wishing he felt as light as the room he lay in.
An almost imperceptible movement caught his eye and when he looked at Charlie closely, he did look like he was breathing deeper than before. Just as Don was going to chalk it up to his imagination, something happened to both prove to him he'd been right and to make his heart flood with joy. Charlie squeezed his hand.
He came around very slowly and Don had trouble being patient. He decided to spur him on and whispered words of encouragement to him. "You're doing great, buddy. Dad and I are right here and we can't wait to talk to you. I know you're tired and it's easy to go back to sleep, but try to wake up now. You're safe and everything's going to be fine, just like I promised."
Don had thrown out those words so casually that it didn't hit him until he thought about them that even though he'd promised that to Charlie before, things hadn't turned out fine. In fact, they'd almost hit the worst possible scenario.
Charlie stirred again and gave Don's hand a fresh squeeze. His mouth moved but no sound came out. Fighting back the pain, Don sat up in bed so Charlie could see him.
Charlie's eyes fluttered several times before they managed to stay open. Charlie looked dazed but latched on to Don's face immediately.
"Donnie..." The word was more breath than tone but to Don it was a lifeline.
"Hey, buddy," he whispered, holding Charlie's hand even tighter. "I was worried about you."
"Not dead," Charlie murmured, trying to take in his surroundings.
"No, you're not dead," Don explained patiently. "You're in the hospital. We're in the hospital."
Despite the haze he was in, a flash of panic crossed Charlie's face. "You're hurt..."
"I'm fine, buddy. Just a few dents." Shirtless, Don knew Charlie could see the bandages wrapped around his chest and would not be convinced that Don was unharmed. "You're the one I'm worried about. How are you feeling?"
Charlie's face screwed up in concentration and Don imagined him trying to do a full internal inventory before answering the question.
"Feel weird..." Charlie seemed like he wanted to say more, but either couldn't or wouldn't. Don picked up on this after a second.
"Charlie, if it hurts, tell me. We'll get the doctors to up your pain meds. Trust me, this is good stuff." He tried to give Charlie a reassuring smile, but it didn't really feel natural.
"It's okay." Charlie's eyes opened and closed a few times and he finally appeared to win the battle against sleep and opened his eyes more fully, finally giving Don a full appraisal. He removed his hand from Don's grasp and gently touched Don's bandaged rib cage.
"Broken?" he asked, with concern in his voice.
"Just a couple and a few cracked ones. No big deal." Don took Charlie's hand and moved it away from his torso, putting it back on the bed.
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Don was incredulous. "I almost got you killed and you're saying you're sorry? Charlie, man, I've got the corner on that market."
Charlie shook his head. "Not your fault. You were out cold after the accident. The men who came to take you... I was stupid to try to take them on. I just couldn't..." Charlie's voice caught and Don squeezed his hand and fought down the urge to interrupt him with protests. "I wanted to keep them from taking you and I failed."
"Charlie, it's not your job to protect me," Don admonished him softly.
"Yes it is. You're my brother. You couldn't stick up for yourself so I had to. I tried at least to get some DNA for the FBI to track but I think it just pissed them off. When they pulled out the tire iron I knew it was a lost cause..." Don winced. "But by then it was too late. There were too many of them and they were too fast. They got you and Carmen out of the car, and then I saw the tire iron come at my head. I didn't see anything after that."
Don must have been grasping Charlie's hand too tightly, because Charlie brought his other hand over and put it on top of Don's lightly as if to encourage him to loosen it up.
Don pulled away, embarrassed, but Charlie sought his hand out again and brought their joined hands to his chest.
"Don, please don't blame yourself for what happened." Charlie's voice sounded older and maybe even wiser than Don had ever heard it. Facing death evidently had a sobering effect on people, causing them to mature far more rapidly than if fate had had its way with them in the normal course of time.
Don had to look away for a moment. He didn't want to argue with Charlie but he wanted, no needed, his forgiveness and his assurance that they would still be brothers once Charlie realized that this really did happen because of Don.
"Charlie, how can I not blame myself? It was because of me you were in that car. It was because of me you were in the wreck. I got you beaten with a tire iron, trapped in a basement cell with no way out and no food. I was the one who couldn't get you out of the room they threw us in to die. We only survived from dumb luck that some neighbor called the police about the smell from Carmen's body." Don saw Charlie bristle and he realized he'd not yet told him that Carmen was dead.
"Donnie, you saved me," Charlie pleaded with his brother to believe him. "I was so cold and then suddenly I was warm again. That was you. You gave me your warmth and kept me from the cold. I'd wake up thirsty and you gave me water, made me drink even when I was too out of it to realize I needed water. I was lost..." His voice cracked a little and grew soft. "I was out there somewhere and couldn't find my way back. Then I heard you talking to me and your voice grounded me. I stayed because you kept me there. You saved me, Don. Okay, so maybe Don the FBI agent didn't get us out of that room, but Don - the brother I trusted with my life - kept me alive. I'd have died without you."
"You wouldn't have been in that room in the first place if it wasn't for me." Don wanted desperately to believe what Charlie was saying, but he just couldn't let go of the guilt.
"Maybe not," Charlie said, "but you would have. Maybe if I hadn't been there to take care of you wouldn't have made it yourself. Maybe I was there to save you."
As odd as that logical leap sounded, it felt strangely comforting to Don. Perhaps fate had meant for them to go through this as a pair, knowing they were strong enough together to survive what either could not have done on their own.
"Ow..." Charlie tried to sit up and found it was too painful to do so.
"Charlie! Stay down, don't try to get up!" Don placed his hand against Charlie's shoulder to ensure he didn't try again. "You've got four cracked ribs and a punctured lung. You need to lay still."
"What, your ribs are broken and you get to sit up, but I don't?" Charlie teased, hoping to make Don smile.
"Well, I'm not supposed to be sitting up either, but still..."
"Then you lay down!" Charlie admonished. "If you don't, I'm just going to keep trying to sit up to annoy you."
"Okay, okay," Don admitted defeat. "I just wanted to be able to see you, that's all. It's just, I thought..."
"That you'd never see me alive again?" Charlie finished softly. "Don, I'm not that easy to get rid of." Charlie smiled at his brother. "Now lie back down and give me your hand."
Don reclined back on his pillows slowly then extended his arm towards Charlie's bed. Charlie took his hand in his and placed both their hands on his chest.
"There. Now you can feel me breathing with your eyes closed. So get some rest. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. Plenty of time for me to talk you out of blaming yourself for this." Charlie's eyes started to close again as did Don's.
"Charlie?" Don couldn't rest until he heard what he needed to hear.
Charlie seemed to know instinctively what his brother needed. "Donnie, I don't hold you responsible, so how can I forgive you for something you didn't do wrong? But if that's what you need to hear, then fine - I forgive you. Now get some rest. I promise I'll be here and doing fine when you wake up."
For the first time in his life, Don felt like Charlie was the older brother. As strange as that role reversal was for Don, he'd heard what he needed to hear. Charlie had forgiven him.
"Donnie?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, Charlie."
They gave each other's hand a squeeze, and then the two brothers drifted slowly into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
When Alan woke, he found his two sons sleeping hand in hand. Tears fell from his tired eyes as he watched them, Charlie with a small smile on his lips and Don looking peaceful for the first time since he'd returned, as if his grief and pain had been magically erased.
