A/N - So ends our tale. Warning: There is a very graphic scene in this chapter. It is not violent or sexual in nature but it is kind of scary. One reviewer on another site described it as the scariest thing she had ever read in fan fiction. The medical research for that scene and several of the others took quite a long time so that it would be very true to real life.
I have been toying with the idea of writing an epilogue to the story. I am undecided as to whether or not I should do this. There were a couple of things that I wanted to put in but they didn't seem to fit right with the chapter so I left them out. What is your opinion?
I greatly appreciate all of the wonderful and even the critical reviews. I hope that you all have enjoyed this tale, and I look forward to all of your final analyses.
Be well,
Love, Alice I
Chapter Ten
The sun crested over the horizon, throwing a pale beam of diffuse light through the window and across Charlie's face. His brow was creased in a frown. The monitor by his bedside started beeping faster as he moved his head slightly from side to side. He began to breathe more rapidly, and his face contorted into a grimace of pain.
The monitor continued to sound in time with his increased heart rate. The change in sound roused, Don. It took him a moment to register what had awakened him. He looked over at Charlie and heard him groaning in pain, which brought him fully awake. "Charlie?" Don moved quickly to his brother's side. He was almost panting now and his face was pale and covered in a clammy sweat. Don took hold of Charlie's right hand, but it seemed dead to his touch, limp and lifeless. "Charlie? Can you hear me?"
Charlie opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but couldn't seem to move his body. His right arm lay unmoving at his side and he brought his left arm up to his head, nearly hitting himself in his face with the cast. Don caught hold of Charlie's arm and held it steady. "What is it Charlie?"
Charlie turned his head toward his brother's voice but Don had the distinct impression that he couldn't see him. Through panting gasps Charlie said, "My head's… gonna… explode!" Charlie squeezed his eyes closed and cried out in pain, "Help me!" Charlie's heart rate shot up sharply, setting off alarms on the bedside monitor as he fought to bring his casted arm to his head.
Don shouted, "Hey, we need help in here!" but two nurses were already running into the room, responding to the alarms.
"Donnie!" Charlie was panicked now and Don touched his face, to let him know he was there.
"He can't move and his head hurts. I don't think he can see either."
The nurse was quickly scanning the monitor when Charlie suddenly let out a loud cry. His eyes glazed over and his jaw clamped closed tightly. His body went rigid as his back arched off the bed and his left arm shot straight down to his side.
The nurse at Charlie's head had a name badge on that said Marge Wilson. She took hold of Charlie's head and shouted, "He's going into a seizure. Jules, grab that leg! He'll dislodge the pins!" The second nurse took hold of Charlie's broken leg to hold it steady as the seizure continued. After thirty seconds or so, Charlie's entire body began jerking violently and Jules was having difficulty holing the pinned leg as the tactile strength of Charlie's seizing muscles intensified.
Don moved down to Charlie's feet and grabbed his leg in a strong grip. Charlie's arms were both jerking upward at the elbows and his cast hit Marge in the back of the head. "Get that arm!" Don hollered, as Charlie's casted arm jerked up again, smacking Marge a second time. There was a high-pitched almost musical sound coming from Charlie's throat as he struggled for breath.
"Marge, hit the code!" Jules cried, as she struggled to keep Charlie's arm from hitting the bed rails or Marge.
Marge reached to the wall, and slapped a large red button on it hard. A general alarm went off, calling for aide to Charlie's room. Don couldn't believe the strength in his brother's injured leg. He was using every ounce of his own strength to keep it from thrashing violently against the side rails. He watched, horrified, as Charlie's frail body thrashed and convulsed with incredible force, then began to turn blue.
As Marge tried to keep Charlie's head from slamming into the bed rails she saw a bloody foam forming in his mouth. "Turn him on his side! He'll choke on the blood!" Don, Jules and Marge worked together to get Charlie turned onto his right side, as several other people rushed into the room.
Don was pushed, unceremoniously, out of the way by a large male nurse who took hold of Charlie's leg. He backed off into the corner of the room and watched in terror as his brother continued to thrash violently. The night shift attending physician rushed into the melee and shouted, "How long has he been seizing?"
Marge was now suctioning the blood coming from Charlie's mouth and didn't look up as she answered. "It has been about three to four minutes now, Doctor." Marge took an oxygen mask from the crash cart that had been wheeled in with the emergency response personnel and affixed it to Charlie's face. His jaw was still clamped tightly closed but the bluish tint to his skin lightened slightly as she fed him pure oxygen.
The attending was barking out orders to the various people in the room. He ordered a glucose screen and something called pulse oximetry. He also sent someone to page Dr. Heising STAT. The attending continued to shout out orders that Don didn't understand as the seizure seemed to strengthen violently. Alarms and buzzers were going off on all of the equipment making a din of sound that was difficult to hear over. After another five minutes the attending glanced at Marge. "Push one milligram of Lorazepam per minute. Jules, we need that EEG in here now! What's our pulse ox?"
"Eight-five," a voice called out.
"Contact Radiology. This guy needs to be taken in on a STAT basis for a CT as soon as we get this seizure under control," the attending called out to the people gathered. A young man stepped over to a phone on the wall and punched in the extension and began to make arrangements for the Cat Scan.
As Don sat on the window ledge, transfixed by what was happening, he felt a sense of surrealism. Charlie's body just kept jerking and twitching as the team of hospital personnel worked on him, adding medications to his IV, adjusting new monitor leads to his chest to replace the ones that had been ripped off when the seizure began, and placing new leads on his head to monitor his brain activity. As the minutes ticked by and the seizure would not abate, Don felt a tight knot in his chest. 'Am I going to lose my brother today?' Don pushed that thought forcefully from his mind; but, even from his vantage point, he could see his brother's face becoming bluer and could hear him wheezing loudly as the seizure constricted his throat, preventing him from breathing.
"Pulse ox down to seventy percent!" a voice called out.
The attending reached into the crash cart and began pulling out medication and equipment. "What's the EEG showing?"
"Massive seizure activity."
"We have to stop this seizure. Marge, administer Anectine so I can establish an airway. I may have to use Phenobarbital to stop this seizure. Get Dr. Heising on the phone now!"
Marge looked up at the Attending. "Dr. Anderson!" When he looked back at her she pointedly looked at Don sitting on the window ledge in the corner. The doctor turned and was shocked to see him sitting there, looking ashen. "He's his brother," Marge said, and went back to preparing the equipment Dr. Anderson would need to intubate Charlie.
Dr. Anderson set the medications he was holding down, and approached Don. "Mr. Eppes, you should come with me now." He led Don out into the hallway and spoke to him quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were in there. I know how frightening this is. Your brother is experiencing something called convulsive status epilepticus. It is a prolonged seizure, and is very dangerous. He is turning blue because he can't breathe properly, so we are going to paralyze him so that we can put a breathing tube in his throat and give him the oxygen he needs. Paralyzing him will stop the overt motor response and allow us to intubate him, but it won't stop the seizure activity in his brain. I will consult with Dr. Heising before administering a drug called Phenobarbital to stop the seizure. There are risks with using this drug, but the risks of permanent neurological damage are greater with this continued seizure."
Don's head was spinning with all of this. "What are the risks of using this drug?"
"The biggest risk is the cessation of all autonomic and semi-autonomic functions including breathing. He will have to be put on a ventilator. That is why I want to consult with Dr. Heising before administering the drug. I know that he was planning to do a resection on Friday, but it may not be possible to wait. The tumor has caused so much intracranial pressure that it set off this massive seizure."
Jules poked her head out the door and said, "Dr. Anderson, I have Dr. Heising on the line."
"I'll be right there. I need you to stay out here until we have him stabilized."
Don nodded and said, "Do what you have to do to save him."
Dr. Anderson nodded and turned back to the room. Don reached for his cell, but his coat and other belongings were in the room, so he went down to the nurse's station. Everyone on the unit was down in Charlie's room, so he went behind the desk and used the phone to call his father. Alan picked up the phone after only two rings. He was accustomed to rising early and he had planned on visiting Margaret's grave before going to the hospital. Don's voice was not frantic, but Alan heard the barely contained panic underneath the calm, all the same.
"Dad, Charlie is having a seizure, not an absence seizure, a full, all-out seizure. They are working on him now, and I can't get in the room."
Alan felt his heart leap in his throat. "I'm coming there right now."
Don's voice changed, and now he sounded anxious. "Dad, I...
They are going to paralyze him so that they can put in a breathing tube." Don was truly frightened at this point, and he didn't want to be strong. He spoke in a quiet voice. "Dad, I'm scared."
Alan took a breath to try and control his own fear. "Donnie, I'll be there soon. Charlie is a strong young man. Have faith, son."
Don hung up with his father and just sat there behind the nurse's station. He was terrified by what he had just seen, but there was absolutely nothing that he could do. Suddenly he was filled with the urge to move, so he got up and walked down the hall to the stairs and down to the parking garage. He wasn't going to leave, his keys were in his jacket, but he needed to be in motion and burn off some of this nervous energy. He walked all the way around the ground floor of the parking garage at a fast pace, and then moved up to the next level. He continued this until he had reached the fourth level and was panting slightly. Having burned off some of his anxiety he went back to the unit where Charlie's room was, because he didn't want to miss his father when he arrived.
By the time Alan got to the hospital, Charlie had stopped seizing, and was now on a ventilator. His face was no longer blue but a deathly pale. He looked almost lifeless to Alan who felt his chest constrict at the sight of his youngest child. The pins in his broken leg had blood seeping from where they entered his skin and the leg looked swollen and slightly misshapen. Dr. Heising was there and going over all of Charlie's vital signs.
The EEG and the CT were not encouraging. The pressure from the encroaching tumor had set off the extensive seizure. Charlie was now unconscious, and there was no more time left. Dr. Heising told the nursing staff to prep him for surgery immediately before escorting Alan and Don out of the room and down to the lounge.
"Because of the seizure that Charlie had this morning, I can no longer wait to do the resection. The tumor has grown, and is completely blocking the left ventricle of his brain. The intracranial pressure increased dramatically and set off the seizure that you saw. Unfortunately the attack was violent and lasted nearly thirty minutes, which caused further problems. There has been displacement of the pins holding his broken leg together and that must be repaired or his leg will not heal properly. I have contacted the on-call orthopedic surgeon to come in and reset the pins while he is still under anesthesia from the resection. This will lengthen the time he is under; but, given his current neurological state, I feel that it is a lesser risk than having him put under twice."
Dr. Heising could see that this news was distressing for both men. "Charlie has a few things working in his favor right now. He is a strong and otherwise healthy young man. His heart did not suffer any ill effects from the prolonged seizure or the drugs used to stop it."
Alan sighed deeply, and nodded. "When will he be taken in for the operations?"
"It will take the nursing staff about twenty minutes to prepare him. I will wait for the orthopedic to arrive, and then we will have him taken up to the surgical suite. There is a comfortable lounge outside the operating area that you can wait in. I will come out when he is taken to Recovery and let you know how things went."
Don contacted the office to let everyone know what was happening, while Alan called Larry and Amita at Cal Sci. Over the course of the day the various members of Don's team, as well as Jack and Danny, came to the hospital. Terry and David had gone back to their own office and were now embroiled in a fraud case, while Jack and Danny used the case files from New York and Charlie's recent disappearance to continue setting up the new squad and complete their training.
Don alternately sat with a blank stare on his face, to manically pacing. He knew that the surgery would take a long time, but it had already been over five hours and still there was no word as to what was going on. Amita arrived within a half hour of Alan's call, and had not left except to get Don and Alan coffee or sandwiches which were left virtually untouched.
It was nearly five in the afternoon when Dr. Heising came to the OR lounge. He looked tired, and Alan steeled himself for terrible news but felt his heart jump when the surgeon smiled wearily.
"Both procedures went well. I was able to remove the entire tumor and have sent it off for tissue analysis. The pressure that the tumor was exerting on Charlie's brain has been relieved, but it will take some time for things to get back to normal. There will be some swelling for a couple of days as blood and cerebral spinal fluid equalize in his brain. The Phenobarbital will bleed out of his system in a short time. Now that the pressure in his brain has been relieved I do not want to continue to use it. He will be continuously monitored for further seizure activity, however. I want to make sure that he is breathing on his own before removing the ventilator. I am on emergency standby for him, and the staff have instructions to contact me immediately should anything happen. The convulsion dislodged one of the pins in his leg and a new pin was placed along with a bracing plate in the bone above his knee. He will be in Recovery for another hour or two. When he wakes up he will be confused and probably frightened. He may have difficulty moving or talking. Actually I had to put a few stitches in his tongue. He bit it very badly during the seizure. Alert the nursing staff when he wakes up so that they can page me. Keep him calm and reassure him that everything is all right."
Charlie was taken from the recovery unit and up to his room by seven in the evening. His head was covered in a large bandage with wires from the EEG monitor snaking out from underneath. His leg had been elevated with the new pins protruding out the side of his leg. There was a new set of staples down the middle of his thigh running from the knee to halfway up his leg. Amita had left the hospital after Dr. Heising had given them the news that the surgery had gone well. She came back with dinner for the Eppes men around the time that Charlie was released from Recovery and left again by nine in the evening. She asked Alan to call her as soon as Charlie woke up. All through the night Alan and Don kept a silent vigil, hoping to see Charlie's eyes open, but he slept on peacefully.
By mid afternoon the next day Don had fallen asleep in the recliner next to his brother's bed and Alan sat near the window reading a book. He would continue to glance up from his reading after every other page to see if he was awake yet. After an hour or so of this routine, Alan looked up again at Charlie and didn't register immediately that his son's eyes were open. Alan sat forward to peer more closely at Charlie, and smiled widely when he realized that his eyes were not playing tricks on him. As he stood up to come to Charlie's side, he gently shook Don awake.
Charlie was staring up at the ceiling trying to figure out where he was. He felt weak and his leg hurt. Why did his leg hurt? He had no idea what day it was or where he was. He tried to remember the last thing he was sure of, but his mind seemed to be utterly blank. 'What is my name?' he asked himself.
'My name is Charlie.'
'How old am I?' The answer to this question eluded him. He knew that he wasn't a child, but that was about the furthest his mind would go in processing this question.
'Where am I?' His eyes told him that he was in a hospital, for he could see all sorts of monitors out of his peripheral vision. He tried to turn his head and look around but he was so weak that the effort seemed to be too much for him at the moment, so he simply stared up at the ceiling.
'Was I in an accident?' A flash of memory flitted across his mind. He remembered darkness, and bone chilling cold. He felt himself shudder involuntarily. He remembered a beautiful woman, an angel with dark hair and kind eyes. He wanted to go with her but she said that he had to go somewhere else. He didn't want to go wherever she was sending him; he wanted desperately to go with her. He suddenly felt an overpowering sense of loss, and tears formed in his eyes and rolled down the sides of his face.
Don and Alan stepped up alongside Charlie's bed as tears began to drop from his eyes. Don reached out his hand gently and touched Charlie's face, drawing his gaze. "Hey, Buddy, its okay. You're going to be fine now."
Charlie made himself turn his head slightly to look at the faces standing over him. They looked vaguely familiar. The older man had intelligent eyes and an easy smile but his eyes were very tired-looking, with great dark circles underneath. The younger man also looked worn and weary but he had a glad smile. Charlie wanted to ask them who they were and what had happened but found that his tongue was thick and soar. He tried to say something, but only an unintelligible sound issued from his mouth.
The older man spoke in a soft and reassuring voice. "It's all right, Charlie. Don't try to speak yet. That may take a little time, son."
The older man had called him son. All at once, a flood of memories crashed into his consciousness. The older man was his father, Alan Eppes. The younger man was his older brother, Don. The angel he had seen was his mother, who had died a year ago. He was dying. He remembered now. He has a brain tumor. There was an accident, he fell into Braddocks Ravine where he died and saw his mother. He concentrated all of his strength of will to raise his hand up to his head, and felt the bandaging there.
"It's over now, Buddy. The tumor is gone. You're going to be all right." Don was saying to him. Don turned to his father and said, "Press that call bell, Dad. We need to let them know that he's awake now."
"On? Ad?...
Hi han I halk?" Charlie's eyes reflected genuine fear bordering on the edge of panic as questions tumbled through his mind. 'What happened to me? Am I an invalid who will never be whole again? Did the surgery go poorly?'
Somehow Don understood what his brother had said. "It's all right, Charlie. The doctor said that you would have a little trouble talking at first. You bit your tongue and they had to put a couple of stitches in it. It's just a little swollen now and that makes it hard to speak. Your surgery went well; Dr. Heising was able to remove the entire tumor. Buddy, it's gone now. You will be just fine." Don had taken Charlie's hand and was gripping it reassuringly.
A nurse stepped into the room and smiled brightly at Charlie. "Well, look who decided to join us. Welcome back." She checked the monitors and wrote down some readings on a small pad that she pocketed and said to Charlie, "I'm going to tell Dr. Heising that you are awake now. How are you feeling?"
Charlie's eyes had lost the nearly feral look, and he tried to answer the nurse. "Egg hurs."
She frowned in concentration trying to make out what he had said, and Don answered for her. "He said his leg hurts."
She smiled up at Don then said to Charlie, "Well, let me get you some pain medication for your leg. Dr. Heising will come and see you shortly." She looked up at Don and said, "If he needs anything else, let me know."
Within thirty minutes Dr. Heising came in to see Charlie and also reassured him that things were going well. "You are going to have to give yourself some time, Charlie. I have several questions that I want to ask you but that will wait until you have recovered a little more and it is easier for you to speak. For right now I want to test your strength." The doctor took Charlie's right hand and put his index and middle finger in Charlie's palm. "Can you squeeze my fingers for me?" Charlie closed his hand as tightly as he could around Dr. Heising's fingers, but it was definitely a weak embrace. His right leg had minimal strength as well, but Dr. Heising smiled and said, "That's good, Charlie. Now I want you to get some rest. I am going to give your father and brother some instructions, and then I will see you again tomorrow."
Charlie nodded his understanding and realized that he was indeed extremely tired. He allowed his eyes to close and was asleep before Dr. Heising and his family had even stepped into the hallway.
"His tangible strength is very weak; weaker than I had hoped for. That doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong. His body has been thoroughly traumatized and he may well be experiencing some lingering effects from the seizure. I want him to rest tonight, and tomorrow I'll do a full set of neurological tests on him. He is in for a difficult period of recovery. He will need intensive physical therapy. Do your best to keep his spirits up."
The next two weeks were arduous for Charlie. He had begun to speak more clearly within two days but was having a good deal of difficulty with major motor movements. His arms and legs were incredibly weak and physical therapy with the broken leg was pure torture for him. Don and his father stayed with him as much as the hospital would allow. They had both started going home at night, now that Charlie had passed all of his initial neurological tests. It looked as though he was going to be one of the thirty percent who had no lasting neurological damage because of the tumor, and his biopsy had come back benign. Don figured that Charlie deserved a break after everything that he had been through and thanked God every day for that blessing.
Even though Charlie was working with the physical therapist and doing everything asked of him, he wasn't improving as quickly as everyone had hoped. Don was growing concerned about the melancholy that seemed to descend upon Charlie. He wasn't eating well and blamed that on the hospital food, but he wouldn't even eat when his father brought in Charlie's favorite dishes from home. Don's concern grew when Amita came by to visit. He had expected her presence to snap Charlie out of his brooding, but it didn't. He was desperately hoping to see Charlie's face light up like it had before, but he just smiled feebly and asked about school.
Dr. Heising was also becoming apprehensive by Charlie's despondency. Post traumatic and post operative depression were to be expected after the experiences that Charlie had been through. He prescribed anti-depressants for the time being, but if Charlie didn't show some improvement soon, he would order a psychological consult.
It had been three weeks since Charlie's surgery and Don woke with a start. He was in his apartment and it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. Something had wakened him, but he had no idea what it was. He felt an inexplicable worry for Charlie and decided that he was going to go to the hospital. He didn't care one hoot that it was the middle of the night and past visiting hours. He had a strong feeling that his brother needed him, and he was going to respond to that feeling. When he arrived on the unit, the nursing station was vacant, so he made his way down to Charlie's room and found him sitting up in bed staring at the wall in a dark room.
"Charlie? Hey, are you okay, Buddy?" Don came over to him and sat down carefully on the right side of the bed. Charlie turned his head toward Don who could see tears on his face in the dim light that was coming in through the open door.
"What's wrong with me?"
Don wrapped his arms around his little brother as a flood of suppressed emotion broke free and Charlie sat weeping uncontrollably in his brother's arms. Don just stroked his back and held him while he cried.
After a long time Charlie stopped crying and sat back from Don. "Can you raise the head of this thing for me?"
"Sure, Buddy." Don got off the bed and found the control. He raised the head of the bed and adjusted the pillows behind Charlie so he could sit comfortably. "Do you want me to turn on a light?"
"Leave it off. I don't want you to see me like this, Don. Why are you here anyway?"
"I knew that you needed me. I don't know how I knew, I just did. Charlie, I want to talk with you about that letter you wrote."
Charlie felt an awful tightening in his chest. He had almost forgotten about that letter and all of the other documents he knew that were contained in that envelope. "You weren't meant to see that, Don. Well, at least not any more. Please, you have to understand what was happening at the time I wrote that. My head was in a different place."
Don turned on a small night light by the bed so that they could see each other clearly. He placed his hand on Charlie's wrist to get him to look at him. "Charlie, I know that you're sorry that you didn't tell me about all of this. That's not really what I wanted to talk about. I have had a lot of time to think. You were partially right about me in that letter. You said that I left LA because of you, to get away from you. To be perfectly honest, that was somewhat true, but not completely. Charlie, the main reason I left wasn't because of you, it was because of me. I have, to some degree, always felt like an outsider in this family. That feeling started around the time that your gifts were realized."
Charlie looked stricken by this statement and turned his face away from Don. Don reached out and lifted Charlie's head by the chin so that he could look at him. "I'm not blaming you for the way I felt, well, not any more. I didn't see myself as particularly important to Mom and Dad or to you. I felt big and clumsy and stupid. I felt like I was in the way all the time. You were so smart that I felt like I had to compete with you in every other aspect of our lives, and I still saw myself as not measuring up to my kid brother. Look, I know that those feelings were wrong, but like you said in your letter, they were valid because I felt them. So I did the same thing that you do sometimes. I ran away; not to the garage, but all the way across the country to Maryland. I could have stayed in LA and gone into pro ball, but like everything else in my life, I was nothing more than mediocre at it. I was never going to be a star like you."
The hurt look left Charlie's eyes to be replaced by astonishment. "You felt like a misfit? Don, I…
I never knew that you felt like that…
…that you felt like me."
Don looked concerned by Charlie's words as he continued, "I am a misfit, Don, but I don't mind. Being different makes me unique, and that's not such a bad thing. I suppose that it makes sense that you could have felt like you were the odd man out when we were young, but it just never occurred to me that my big brother who is strong, confident and everything I ever wanted to be, could feel like I always have. I never thought you could understand what I felt like, being different from everyone around me; but now I find out that we are more alike than I ever imagined." Charlie paused for a moment then added, "Oh, and I thought you were an awesome ball player."
Don smiled inwardly at his brother's impressions of him. He had to admit that he did like having Charlie view him as a hero, but that was not what he wanted to convey to his brother right now. "I really wasn't, you know. The point is I desperately wanted to do something in my life that was important and special like you are, Charlie. I wanted to achieve it on my own, so I joined the FBI. I was always good at solving puzzles. Remember when we would watch the old Perry Mason shows, and I would always figure out who did it, before Perry Mason?"
Charlie cracked a smile at that reference. "I remember that."
Don paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You feel guilty about Mom, but you don't have to. She understood what you were doing. She tried to explain it to me, but until now I don't think I really understood. You're right, I resented that time when you were locked in the garage lost in your numbers; but I have come to realize that it wasn't you that I resented. It was the fact that you had an escape. You have the ability to turn your entire focus, your whole mind and soul, to something that you love, and that gives you a sense of true reality. I had no escape from the pain when Mom was dying, and I was intensely jealous of you. I didn't recognize that feeling as jealousy at the time, but now that I really look back I know that it was."
Charlie stared at his brother for a long moment before speaking. "You are the rock that this family leans on. Don't wish for the ability to tune out everything around you. It really isn't a blessing; it's more of a curse. Look at me. I fell of a cliff!"
"Charlie, that wasn't your fault. You couldn't help tuning out then. You were having a seizure."
"Was I? Or was I just so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn't notice what I was doing? I was so terrified by what was happening to me, Don. You know what I'm like when I get scared. Did I really have an absence seizure, or did I drive myself off that cliff?"
Don felt his skin crawl at this suggestion. Charlie obviously didn't know the answer to that question, and Don knew that neither of them would ever be able to definitively answer it. Don felt that Charlie was looking for some reason to punish himself. "Charlie, when I found you at the bottom of that ravine, you had an absence seizure right in front of me. I thought for a second that you had died. Look, you did not purposely or even accidentally drive off the edge of that ravine. You DID have a seizure and there was no way you could have prevented what happened. If there had been a fence there, then none of this would have happened."
Charlie sat quietly for awhile thinking about what Don had said. He was tempted to tell him about what had really happened right before Don found him, but he couldn't bring himself to relive that just yet. Telling Amita was easier. She didn't have preconceived notions about him. He knew that his account of almost dying had frightened her; it frightened him. What he wanted more than anything else at that moment was to be somewhere else, not in this hospital room, hooked up to monitors and IVs. "Donnie, I want to go home."
Don smiled because this was the first time Charlie had indicated any desire to get on with his life. "Then let's get you home, buddy. Lie down and get some sleep. We are going to get your strength back so you can leave. I'll help you with your PT until they are satisfied that you are strong enough. Deal?"
Charlie smiled up at his brother, and finally Don saw the spark that he had missed in Charlie's eyes, shining back at him. "Deal."
Within a week Charlie had made remarkable progress. He worked with such determination during his therapy sessions that the entire therapy staff was stunned. When it got particularly difficult he would start reciting equations under his breath to keep himself going. This practice upset the physical therapist the first time he observed it. He was sure that Charlie was having some sort of mental breakdown. Don quickly explained that this sort of litany of numbers and equations worked to sooth Charlie and it got him past the pain he was feeling in his leg. Don was at the hospital every morning to have breakfast with Charlie before he started his morning PT session and stayed with him until he was finished with his afternoon workout. The three Eppes men would have dinner together in Charlie's room every evening, and Charlie slowly began to put a little weight back on his rather emaciated frame. Six weeks after Charlie's surgery he was allowed to go home.
Once home Charlie was forced to sleep in a bed downstairs. Until the pins came out in another few weeks, he was wheelchair bound and couldn't traverse the stairs safely. One evening after their father had gone out to his book club meeting Charlie confided in Don about his experience at the bottom of the ravine. Even after all of this time Charlie still had difficulty telling his brother. Don never told Charlie that he already knew what had happened because he had heard him talking to Amita about it. He just listened and offered comfort to Charlie.
As the weeks passed and Charlie got stronger, he went back to the hospital to have the pins taken from his leg. The steel plate remained imbedded in his healing bone and would be a permanent addition. Charlie joked that he wouldn't be able to consult with the FBI any more because he would set off the metal detectors in the front lobby.
When Charlie came back home from the hospital the second time, he was out of the wheelchair and using crutches. He was anxious to sleep in his own bed, in his own room, after three months of intensive physical therapy and recovery from his injuries. Don stayed at the house with Charlie and his father and felt like he belonged. The feeling that he was a bit of an outsider in his family had evaporated with his new-found understanding of not only his own feelings, but those of his brother. The bond that grew between them was as strong as it ever could have been.
Alan saw this bond strengthen between his sons and frequently went to Margaret's grave to thank her for her protection and the help that he knew she gave to her sons. He knew in his heart that she had awakened Don that night that he went to see Charlie at the hospital in the early hours of the morning. He knew that she had helped to keep Charlie alive when he was scared and hurt and ready to give up. She had always been a protector of this family and it seemed that she always would be.