Disclaimer in Part 1. Thanks again to N. for help with the math, to Elaine for help with the medical stuff, and Susan for help with everything.

There's still an epilogue after this, but I promise you've read the last cliffhanger! (But hopefully I haven't read the last reviews…)

ooooooooooooooooo

Chapter 12
Saturday, July 2
10:15 A.M.
Long Beach Memorial Medical Center

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you can't go in there."

Karen looked up from the door to Room 312, her hand poised to knock. "I'm sorry?"

A short strawberry-blond woman was hurrying up to her, displaying an FBI badge. "No unauthorized personnel are allowed inside."

She took a step back, momentarily confused. Then she realized what was going on, and her heart sank. If there was a guard outside Don's door, then his case must be serious indeed. "Um, an Agent Lake called me this morning. My name is Karen Fisher. I'm a friend of Don's."

"Oh! Can I see your identification?" The woman looked over her driver's license before holding out her hand. "That would be me. It's nice to meet you."

She briefly shook her hand and said, "Thanks for calling, Agent Lake. How is he?"

"Please, call me Terry." The FBI agent gestured towards the hallway, and Karen felt a strange sense of role reversal. Usually she was the one suggesting a walk in order to deliver news about a loved one's health. "Like I told you on the phone, he'll be fine. He has a mild concussion, a cracked rib, and his left wrist is broken. The doctor wanted to hold him overnight for observation, but he said he should be free to go after one more examination later this morning."

She let out a relieved breath. "That's good." She didn't really want to think about how Don might have gotten those injuries, and she somehow doubted the other woman would tell her even if she did ask.

Terry went on as they slowly strolled along, "I'm sorry, I probably should have called you yesterday evening, but we weren't sure how serious his condition was, and how dangerous the situation might be." She must have seen Karen's worried expression, because she hurried on, "Everything's under control, but there's one or two perpetrators still unaccounted for, so we're just checking to make sure no one's here who shouldn't be."

"I understand. I appreciate you getting in touch with me. I mean, it's not like…" she trailed off, uncertain how to phrase what she meant. "We've only gone on a couple of dates, you know."

Terry came to a stop and regarded her for a moment. "Dr. Fisher, I've been friends with Don for a long time. He's very much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. From what he's said about you in the past few weeks…let's just say I think he'll be glad to see you."

She was surprised to feel a flush on her cheeks, and she quickly looked away. "Thanks."

"So, um, his family is talking to him right now, but I can let him know you're here, if you like."

"That would be great. Thank you."

With a brief touch on her arm, Terry moved away and knocked on the door of Room 312 before entering. Karen heard the rise and fall of Don's voice as the door opened and closed. "…Charlie, I feel fine. I know that what you saw looked bad, but really, the doctor said…"

She waited, resisting the nervous impulse to fidget with the small cross around her neck. She didn't want to walk into the middle of a family argument; that was awkward enough when it was one of her patients, much less a…well, whatever Don was to her.

The phone call this morning had sent her heart racing as soon as the woman said she was Don's partner. She hadn't seen him since their lunch date last week, and though they'd talked on the phone once or twice, she hadn't had the impression that he was at a dangerous stage in his case. Her first thought was to wonder how Agent Lake knew who she was and how she had found her, but then she reminded herself that the woman was with the FBI, after all. Then she'd realized the implications of the call, and she'd really started worrying. Granted, Don's family members would have been notified right away, but she was still picturing all sorts of horrible things that had happened to him. Then she was told that Don was okay, but that he had been hospitalized, and that a visit from her might be appreciated. Still, until she saw him with her own eyes, she knew her imagination would be running away with her.

The door opened again, and Terry stuck her head out. "Come on in," she said with a friendly smile. Karen took a deep breath before walking in, not sure if she was bracing herself for familial tension, or what Don's appearance would be.

Inside, an older man sitting next to the head of the bed was shaking his head and saying, "Just a concussion? I know you have a thick head, Donnie, but please. You have two broken bones and your face looks awful."

"Dad, my rib is just cracked, and thanks for the pick-me-up." He was about to say more, but then he caught sight of her, and his eyes lit up. "Hey."

She took a step forward, managing not to flinch as she saw the bruises that nearly covered his face. "Hi. Um, your partner called me this morning and told me you were here, but if this is a bad time –"

"No, no, come in." Don leaned forward a bit and adjusted the pillows behind him so he was sitting up straight. "Dad, Charlie, this is Karen Fisher. Karen, this is my father, and my brother is back there slouching against the wall."

She turned to see a shorter, curly-haired man leaning against the back wall. His slightly haunted expression was replaced with a quick glare at his brother before he extended a hand to her. "Nice to meet you," he said softly.

"Likewise." Except for the hair, he was obviously Don's brother, with the same expressive brown eyes and serious demeanor. He looked tired; she wondered if the entire Eppes family had spent the night at the hospital.

She turned to Don's father, who had risen from his seat. "I'm Alan. It's very nice to meet you, Karen."

"You too, Mr. Eppes." She could see where Don had gotten his calm air of authority. Though lines of worry were evident on the older man's face, he projected an unruffled air that she found reassuring. It was too bad he wasn't a doctor, she thought. He would probably have a great bedside manner.

"Please, have a seat." Alan gestured to the chair next to Don's bed.

"Oh, no, it's okay," she replied.

"No, really, Charlie and I were just leaving. Time to get another cup of coffee."

Karen's glance took in the half-full styrofoam cup on the bedside table, and she saw that Don had noticed, too. But all he said was, "All right, Dad. Then as soon as the doctor comes by, I'm ready to get out of here, okay?"

"If that's what the doctor says." Alan hesitated a moment, then said, "All right, we're going to let you kids talk. Karen, it was nice to meet you."

"Same here." She lifted a hand in response to Charlie's wave as he followed his father out of the room. As he looked at his brother before leaving, something that looked like a trace of fear flashed over his face, so quickly that she thought she had imagined it.

She turned to Don to see him watching his brother, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. When he saw her looking at him, he gave a slight shake of his head. "My brother. He's usually a lot more talkative than that. I think he worries about me too much."

"He's not the only one." Was it worrying too much when she realized that the knots in her stomach from Terry's call had only started to loosen a moment ago when she saw Don alive and well, if battered?

He grimaced. "I told Terry she didn't have to call you. Not that I'm not glad you're here, 'cause I am, but I thought you might be a little worried if you got a phone call out of the blue."

She shrugged one shoulder and looked down, not wanting him to see the worry in her eyes that she suddenly felt silly for having, given all of the dire scenarios that had been racing through her head. True, he looked pretty uncomfortable, but it wasn't life-threatening. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, well, it was nothing serious." His eyes followed hers as they flickered to the cast on his left wrist before moving back to the bruises that marred his handsome face.

"Then I'd hate to see serious." She tried to give a short laugh, but it stuck in her throat.

His brown eyes were somber. "Karen, are you all right?"

She wanted to say that she was the one who should be asking that question, but then she caught his double meaning. This was normal, he was saying. Maybe not the hospitalization, but the physical danger of his job. She remembered him telling her that his job had more risks than the average person, but that he was better prepared to handle them. She wondered what had gone wrong yesterday. And she wondered if, as he was asking, she was okay with those risks herself.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the chart on a clipboard at the foot of the bed. It really wasn't any of her business, but she was curious as to what he would say.

He searched her eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. "It's not, strictly speaking, confidential information, but it would be better if you kept it to yourself."

"I'm a doctor. I know all about confidential," she threw over her shoulder as she rose and reached for the chart.

She flipped through the pages, reading that although he had been unconscious on arrival, he had been revived easily and had shown no signs of anything more than a mild concussion. His wrist had broken cleanly, so it should heal fairly easily within four weeks or so. The bruising on his lower back was indicative of a severe blow, but tests showed no damage to his kidneys. The cracked rib would keep him at his desk for at least a month or so, assuming he followed doctor's orders. She was aware of him watching her as she read, and so it was a struggle to keep her face impassive as she read about the multiple lacerations and contusions on his wrists, implying that he'd been restrained with handcuffs while he was being beaten.

His voice broke into her increasingly dark thoughts. "So can I tell my dad that a second opinion says I'm good to go?"

She looked up at him, aware that the emotions on her face were probably visible to him. "Looks like you had a rough time of it," she said quietly.

The hopeful expression on his face faded. "Yeah," he responded, something flickering in his eyes before he looked away. "You could say that."

"How are you feeling now?"

"I feel fine," he grumbled, picking at the edge of the blanket.

"Oh, I see. You're one of those tough guys, huh?" He hadn't received anything more than the mildest pain medication, according to his chart.

He snorted and met her gaze. "All right, it hurts, okay? Look, I know I'm stuck on my rear at home for the next two weeks while my head stops ringing, and that I'm out of the field for at least four weeks after that before my wrist and rib are healed. Believe me, I'm not some kind of macho idiot who's going to risk myself and my team because my body isn't well enough to do what I tell it to. Give me some credit here."

Somehow she knew that was the answer he would give. From the moment she met him, she'd never doubted his competence at his job, including knowing what his limitations were. "Well, there's obviously nothing wrong with your spirits," she teased gently as she slid the chart back into its holder, relieved at his reply.

He sat back against the pillows. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. Better to yell at someone who's used to it than at your family. Your brother looks like he's heard enough already."

Don's gaze turned as haunted as Charlie's for a split second before he quickly looked away. Then she recalled the words she'd heard earlier from the hallway, and a light bulb went on. Her hand flew to her mouth. Charlie knew what had happened to Don. He wasn't just worried over his brother being injured. He had seen it happen.

She swallowed. "Is your brother okay?" she asked softly as she sat back down in the chair. "He wasn't hurt, was he?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Don's expression was puzzled as he turned to face her. He must have seen her wide eyes, because his face took on a thoughtful expression. "He's fine," he repeated slowly. "You angling for a job with the FBI or something?"

The corner of her mouth turned up. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on," she replied. "And I know – " she held up a hand to forestall him – "I know you can't tell me everything. But that doesn't mean I can turn off the part of my brain that's going to be thinking about it. I'm pretty good at piecing things together, you know."

"Well, that's something you've got something in common with my brother. I learned pretty fast to watch what I say around him, that's for sure." Then he turned serious again, his eyes holding hers. "But it's not easy for either of us. Karen, I gotta let you know this. The past two weeks are actually pretty typical. It can be hard to know that something's going on with me without knowing any of the details. Just ask my dad, or Charlie. Some people aren't good at dealing with worrying too much because they don't know what's going on."

She understood perfectly well what he was saying. She'd been wondering about this all the way over here, knowing full well that this might not be the last time she saw Don bruised and battered in a hospital bed, and that next time it could well be more serious. And it didn't matter that she felt torn between wanting and not wanting to know what had happened to him, because she would probably never find out. There would always be that little bit of distance between them because of the things he could never talk about, no matter how close they got.

But as she had said a few minutes ago, she was familiar with the strictures of confidentiality herself. And it seemed like a small price to pay for getting to know as considerate and caring and attractive a man as Don Eppes was turning out to be. So she reached out to take his hand as she said lightly, "You're not trying to get out of our bet, are you?"

He stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back and dissolving into laughter. She chuckled along with him, resolving to do whatever she could to make him laugh as often as possible. She somehow got the feeling he didn't do so nearly as often as he should.

Besides, if he was gorgeous when he smiled, he was absolutely incredible when he laughed.

"Well, in that case, Dr. Fisher, are you free on Thursday the 14th? I happen to know it's a seven o'clock game, and there were still tickets available as of yesterday morning."

"Are you sure you can be up and around by then? That's less than two weeks from now."

He rolled his eyes. "I can sit in a seat at Dodger Stadium as well as I can sit on the couch. Besides, I already checked. It's All-Star Poster giveaway night."

"Oh, well, in that case." She grinned back at him. "I'll be there."

They fell silent and looked at each other for a long moment, the tension in the room suddenly gone. Then he laced his fingers through hers, and she looked down for a moment, her eyes drawn to the angry red scratches across the back of his wrist. She spoke quietly, looking into his eyes so he would know she meant it. "Don, I know what you're saying, and I'm not trying to make light of it. That's why I asked you the other night about your job. I want to know what I'm getting into, and now I think I have a much better idea."

He didn't reply, just briefly looked down at their intertwined hands resting on the edge of the bed before returning his gaze to hers. She went on, "I know you take a lot of risks in your job. But I'm glad for it. Because I also know that if it weren't for you taking those risks, and being so good at what you do, I probably wouldn't be here. I mean, I owe you my life. If it weren't for you…"

Don was shaking his head. "It was a whole team of people working to protect you, Karen, not just me."

"That's not what your Agent Cooper said afterwards. He told me he'd hardly ever seen you putting so much into a case, even when the two of you were chasing fugitives across the country."

As he looked away, it almost looked like he was blushing, but it must have been a trick of the light. "Aw, that's just Coop. He kept teasing me about you all during the case."

Now that was interesting. Either this Agent Cooper had been way off, or Don had a very good poker face. She'd never seen a flicker of interest from him until their lunch meeting that turned into a two-hour conversation. She had chalked up his attempts to make her feel better after McDowd's apprehension as just part of his job, but now she was wondering. "Did he now?"

He fixed her with that same intense look he'd given her in the restaurant on Olvera Street, and he gently tugged on her hand. "Let's just say I'm glad I ran into you that day in the office."

Her heart was pounding again, but not from worry. "So am I," she said softly, leaning forward a little bit.

And as she was starting to learn was typical for her Agent Eppes, he met her halfway.