Disclaimer in Part 1.

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"And the Dodgers go down in order. At the end of eight, it's Cubs 6, Dodgers 3."

Don pressed the mute button on the remote and leaned back against the pillows. Not only was he stuck in the hospital for a couple more days, his team couldn't manage to pull off what should be an easy win to keep up his spirits.

He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't really lie on his back without pain, and his ribs protested if he moved around too much trying to find a good position on his side. But he knew he shouldn't complain. When two days ago he had been awake enough to really be aware of his visitors, Charlie's face had told him how close he had come to not worrying about any pain at all. After he and Dad had left, Don had asked the doctor to tell him straight out what the damage had been. When the red-headed man was done, he'd sat in silence for a long while.

Statistically, you're dead now. Charlie's words from months ago came flashing into his head. He wondered what his brother thought the odds were like now.

He'd been relieved beyond words when Coop stuck his head through the doorway yesterday. Charlie had told him he was fine, but he wouldn't believe it until he saw him with his own eyes. It took a while to get the whole story of what had happened at the safe house out of Billy, who seemed intent on blaming himself for not watching out for Don. Of course, Don was just as convinced that he himself was at fault for allowing McDowd's shot to knock Coop down, rendering him unconscious for a few critical minutes.

They had argued back and forth, something Terry probably would call working out their latent fears in a low-key verbal confrontation, each pointing out how the other had done the best job he could. At some point, Coop's self-confident streak took over, and he asserted that he knew he was a damn good agent, and Don was too, and then Don agreed, and then they looked sheepishly at each other and admitted they were both right.

Alan, who'd been eavesdropping from the doorway, dryly commented that it was a good thing they'd settled that, or the testosterone levels in the room would have started registering an alert at the nurses' station.

But that was yesterday, and today, after a brief visit from his father on his way to volunteering at the shelter, and a call from Charlie between classes, he'd been on his own. It was kind of nice, actually. He had some things to think about, and although the baseball game had been a distraction for the last couple of hours, it was about to come to an end.

There was a knock at the door. When it didn't immediately open, he called, "Come in."

The door swung open, and Karen Fisher stood hesitantly in the doorway. "Hi, Agent Eppes. Are you busy?"

He could feel his smile stretching the stitches on his cheek. "Just watching my team lose. Come on in," he said as he clicked off the TV.

He had only seen her in her white doctor's coat, except at the safe house when he had had other things on his mind. She looked much more relaxed, in jeans and a soft sage-colored sweater that brought out her green eyes. She looked around as she entered and asked, "So, being in the FBI rates you your own room, huh?"

He gave a slightly embarrassed shrug and set the remote on the bedside table. "Yeah, well, I guess they figured no one else should have to be subjected to me whining about how soon I can get out of here."

She sat down in the chair next to the bed, crossing her legs. "I talked to Dr. Williams, and he said you should be able to go home the day after tomorrow."

"That's what they tell me. No offense, but I don't like spending any more time around doctors in a hospital than I have to."

The ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "I know what you mean. I did a residency in the ER here years ago. I just couldn't take seeing all of the things that people did to each other. There aren't many gunshot or stabbing victims in general practice, you know?"

"Yeah, I suppose," he replied.

They fell silent. Finally he asked, "So, how are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she said almost dismissively. "I started seeing patients again this morning. It was good to get back into the familiar routine."

"That's good," he agreed.

More silence. He started wondering why Karen had come, if she wasn't going to say anything. "So, uh, my dad said that you stopped by a couple of days ago."

She looked up, startled. "Um, yeah, I did. You probably don't remember."

He shook his head apologetically. "There's a lot that's hazy from the last few days." There were, however, a few moments he remembered with crystal clarity. Like crashing to the floor, his back on fire with pain. Or hearing McDowd's gun go off a moment later and being sure that Karen was dead. Most of those moments were ones he didn't care to relive.

"I just -- I had to see if you were okay." She looked across the room and out the window, the sunlight catching on her honey-blond hair as she turned her head. "Your father was amazing. I thought he'd be furious at me, but he was so understanding. He's a really great guy."

"Yeah, he is," Don said slowly. "Why would he be mad at you?"

She looked at him like he was stupid. "Because it's my fault you were shot."

Dad would be so pleased to know he was right. "Karen, you weren't the one who pulled the trigger. It wasn't your fault."

"But I was the one you were protecting. I was the one who couldn't manage to get away or hide well enough. I was the one that you -- " She broke off, and he could see that the memory was just as sharp in her mind as it was in his.

He leaned forward. "And I was the one who let McDowd sneak up on me. I was the one who couldn't get away from him. The only thing you did wrong was letting him into your room."

"He was going to kill you!" Her voice had risen in pitch, but not in volume, as though even while upset, she could maintain hospital-level decorum.

"Yeah, and he almost did anyway. My job was to protect you. That protection got a lot harder once you opened that door." He knew he shouldn't be taking it out on her, but he could remember how his heart had sunk when the hotel room door opened. Her sense of self-preservation had been so strong a moment before when she pulled away on the stairwell; why would she let a killer in?

"He would have kicked it down anyway." She leaned closer to him and spoke more rapidly. "You know he would have. When I heard you outside, and then I heard -- " She reached up as if to touch the healing gash and bruise on his cheek, and then withdrew her hand. "I knew he hadn't killed the man guarding me, so he probably wouldn't kill you, as long as I let him in."

"In other words, you were willing to give up your life for me."

He had spoken quietly, but he could see that his words made an impact on her. She sat back in her chair and put her hand to her mouth. Then she softly said, her voice stunned as though she had just realized it, "I guess at that point I figured I was dead anyway."

He instantly reached out and took her other hand, ignoring the twinges of pain from his ribs as he moved. "Karen, what you did was incredibly brave. You asked my dad how someone could be willing to give up their life for a stranger, and here you offered yourself. I do remember that much of what happened. Maybe McDowd was bluffing with me or maybe he wasn't; I don't know. The truth is, you gave up your safety for my sake. And that's a remarkable thing to do."

Her hand tightened on his. "Not nearly as remarkable as you. To just leap in front of someone like that with no protection…"

"Like I said, I can't remember everything, but -- " He looked away for a moment, then back into her eyes. "Don't ever tell my father this, okay?" When she nodded, he went on, a little hesitantly, "I don't think I realized I wasn't wearing a vest."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?"

He thought about it for a moment. He'd just received a serious kick in the ribs that he should have known wouldn't have hurt nearly so much with a vest. But when he'd heard the click of the pistol and seen where McDowd was aiming, he hadn't consciously thought about anything except how quickly he could get off the floor and get Karen out of the way.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "You know, I think you're lucky I didn't push you out the window."

She stared at him for a moment. Then she quickly looked down, her lips pressed tightly together.

Don tugged on her hand, concerned. But when she looked up, it became apparent that it wasn't tears she was trying to suppress, but laughter. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, and soon the two of them were releasing the tension with a quiet bout of laughter. He had no idea what was so funny about what he'd said, but he realized it was something they both desperately needed.

He also realized Dr. Fisher was positively beautiful when she smiled.

He was still holding her hand, and before the moment could get awkward, he withdrew and leaned back against the pillows, stifling a groan as he did so. Karen leaned forward, a concerned expression on her face, but he waved her off. "It's fine," he said, shifting his position a bit. "I'm just a little sore."

"That's why they provide that button, you know," and she pointed at the call button beside his bed.

He shook his head. "No, I can deal with it." She looked like she was about to roll her eyes, and he hurried on, "It's not a macho thing, I swear. I've heard too many stories about injured agents becoming dependent on painkillers, and I definitely don't need that."

"Three days do not an addiction make," she said sternly, rising to her feet. "You need to be able to rest, and you can't do that if you're moving around every few seconds trying to get comfortable. I'll go get the nurse."

"Really, Karen, I'm fine." He knew the wince he had just made belied the truth of his words; there were just too many body parts that hurt right now.

"No, you're not. You just had two bullets taken out of you, and your body needs time to recover without the additional stress of extreme pain." When he opened his mouth to protest again, she lifted a hand and cut him off. "You're very good at your job, Agent Eppes. I'm also good at mine. Let the people who are here to take care of you, take care of you."

He sighed, defeated. "All right. On one condition. You call me Don, not Agent Eppes."

Her cheeks actually went a little pink, and she ducked her head so that a curtain of straw-colored hair hid her face. "Okay, deal." Then she turned around and headed for the door.

He watched her go, his stomach suddenly in knots that had nothing to do with their earlier conversation, or with the prospect of asking for pain medication. He ran through a series of arguments in his head at a speed that would have made Charlie proud, and finally decided there wasn't much to lose. As her hand was on the door, he called out, "Karen?"

She turned to look at him inquiringly, and he almost lost his nerve. He fidgeted with the edge of the sheet for a moment, telling himself this was ridiculous. She would certainly change her opinion about his bravery if he hesitated any longer. So he said in a rush, "I know it might not be completely appropriate, and I don't want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in going out to lunch some time once I'm out of here?"

Her head tilted to the side, she regarded him for so long that he was about to say, "Never mind." Then she took a step back towards him and said, "On one condition."

He tried to keep his expression calm as he lifted his eyebrows in inquiry, but his heart was pounding.

"That it's dinner, not lunch."

She was trying to keep her face straight, but the corners of her mouth were turning up. He felt a similar smile creeping across his face. "I think I can handle that," he said slowly.

She gave him another one of those beautiful smiles and opened the door. "I think you know where to reach me, Don."

When the door closed, he pumped his fist and gave a quiet, "Yes!" Without even a wince.

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