By
Tru False
Chapter 15David had given Terry a quick hug, and with her assurance that she would call as soon as they knew anything, had left. It was obvious to Terry that it had been difficult for him to be there. It probably hadn't helped that she had been on the verge of tears herself. Talking to David had brought all the images from the afternoon back, and she had to literally force them from her mind so she could stay on track. She rubbed her hands over her eyes quickly, taking a deep breath to collect herself.
She had half expected Alan to be waiting right outside the door, so when he didn't appear, she began to look around for him. She was just about to head to the nurse's station when the exam room door opened and Don emerged.
"Where's my dad?" he asked abruptly.
"I don't know, I was just going to look for him."
Don was keeping talking down to a minimum, and Terry wasn't sure if that was because it hurt him or if he just didn't feel like doing it. Either way, she didn't press him. She started off towards the nurse's station assuming he would follow, and he did. Before they reached their destination, however, they were intercepted by Dr. Gregg and another doctor in scrubs.
"Agent Eppes, this is Dr. Ashlan. She's been seeing to your brother Charles. I'll let her update you on his condition. And I'll see you back here in two days." He paused for a moment. "I really hope the best for you all," he added as he left. The way he said it made Don's stomach drop.
"Agent Eppes," Dr. Ashlan began, "I've just spoken with your father and he's gone up to the surgical waiting room on the third floor." Dr. Ashlan was in her mid forties, petite with short brown hair. She seemed direct. "I believe in being honest with families, Agent Eppes, and I hope you can appreciate that."
"I can," he replied.
"Your brother is critically injured as I gather you are well aware. We had to work very hard to stabilize him for surgery…" She went on to list everything that was wrong with Charlie, and as the list progressed from pneumothorax to nicked arteries to lacerated spleen to perforated lower intestine, the furrow in Don's forehead deepened accordingly. The kicker though, was the collapsed lungs. It had been obvious that Charlie had a collapsed lung from the gunshot wound, but apparently he had arrived at the hospital with both lungs collapsed, the second having been caused by some kind of blunt trauma to the right side of the chest cavity. Terry remembered Redd kicking Charlie just before the place went up in a mass of gunfire. She looked over at Don. It was obvious he had put two and two together as well—he looked like he was going to throw up.
The sum total of Dr. Ashlan's bedside manner lay in reminding them that the hospital had some of the finest surgeons in the nation, and that if anyone could repair the damage Charlie had sustained, it would be them. With that, she was finished, and waited as the agents stared at her, taking it all in. Terry came to herself first and thanked the doctor for everything she had done.
"You're quite welcome," was her response. She waited a moment more, and seeing there were no questions forthcoming, turned and left, giving Don an almost mechanical pat on the arm as she left.
Terry looked over at him, unsure of what she would find in his eyes. He continued to stare straight ahead for a while, almost as if in a trance, then blinked and walked towards the elevators. She was pretty sure she knew what he was mulling over. For her part, Terry was just hoping that Dr. Ashland hadn't delivered the news to Alan the same way she had just given it to them.
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Two collapsed lungs. Two. Not one, but two—the second being wholly and totally preventable if he would have done his job right. Don was sick with himself. The image kept replaying in his mind…Redd drawing back, Don covering up and Charlie taking the kick in the side. He could have prevented that. He should have seen it coming. Even if the rest of it was up for debate, that one at least—that one he knew was his.
He saw Terry lean forward and punch number 3 as the doors closed. He hadn't even noticed her getting on the elevator with him. That choking, guilty sensation was back with a vengeance, and it was blocking out everything except the voice in his head that assured him everything was going to Hell, and this time, it really was his fault. It was almost satisfying to finally have something specific to berate himself about.
"Don?"
He looked up to see Terry staring back at him holding open doors that were trying to close on themselves.
"Sorry," he muttered and stepped off the elevator.
There were actually several waiting rooms on the third floor, and it took them a few tries but finally they found the right one. Alan, who was pacing across the middle of the otherwise empty room, came over to them immediately.
"Donny, thank God! They told me they would send you up, but then you didn't come and it was longer and longer and I wanted to come check on you but I didn't want to leave here either—" he cut himself off by pulling Don into a firm embrace.
"Dad, I'm alright," Don assured him as he pulled back from him. "It's Charlie we should be worried about," he added as he sat down in one of the chairs. Alan looked at Terry who gave him a gentle shrug of her shoulders. He sat down in the chair next to Don, and after a moment Terry followed suit.
"Did you talk to the doctors?" Alan asked eventually, trying to fathom Don's mood.
"Yeah," he replied.
"It sounds pretty bad," Alan commented.
"Yeah," Don answered again, sounding tired and rubbing his eyes.
"But you know Donny," Alan continued, "Charlie's going to be alright."
Don looked at him.
"We can't give up on him," he said.
Don nodded briefly and looked down at the ground. He understood what his father was doing and he knew he was right to stay positive, but the fact was, Don knew Charlie wasn't going to be alright. He knew it because unlike their dad, he had been there…he had watched Charlie grow weaker and paler as the minutes passed. He had felt his clammy hands, had listened to him struggling to pull in a simple breath, had watched him choke on his own blood and die in front of him, only to be shocked back into reality by God knew how many volts of electricity. Don had been there for all of it—not Terry, and certainly not his father. So while he understood what his dad was saying, he simply knew it wasn't true. All the positive thinking in the world hadn't saved their mom, and it wasn't going to save Charlie either. In the face of Alan's futile hopes, the weight of that knowledge felt all the more oppressive—for Don knew that all too soon, a grim-faced doctor was going to come walking through those doors to tell them that Charlie was gone, forever—and when that happened, all of Alan's false hope was going to come crashing down around him. And that was what had Don worried the most, because for the first time in his life, he really didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he would have the strength to drag himself up off the ground, let alone help someone else pick up the pieces.
Alan let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand over his face. "All this waiting is hard," he said to no one in particular. He looked over at his son. "You know Donny, I never in a million years would've thought that I would be glad that your mother wasn't around for something."
Don looked back at him and nodded sadly, then turned his attention back to the ground. As painful as the waiting was, Don knew it was better than what was coming. He would have gladly remained in this purgatory forever.