Thank you so much for the awesome reviews guys! You totally blew me away. It took six months to write this monster and I'm very glad to hear you're enjoying it.

Thanks again to Elise for helping with this.

Inner Demons

Part 2/6

by Megan

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.

-Helen Keller (1880-1968)

Five. It had been five hours since Don had last seen Charlie, and it felt like an eternity. The last images of Charlie had been of him scared and covered in blood. Don knew those images would haunt his nightmares for years to come. He was an FBI agent. It was his job to protect those around him. How was he supposed to adequately do his job now that he had failed his own little brother?

Four. Four hours had passed since his dad had arrived, frantically demanding to know what had happened while at the same time trying to enter the off limits surgical area. Don hadn't seen his dad this anxious in a long, long time. Hugging his father tightly, both of them allowed their tears to fall.

Three. Terry and David had left three hours ago to wrap up the kidnapping case. Quietly squeezing Don's arm, Terry told him she'd be back as soon as possible.

Two. It was only two hours ago he realized he was wearing Charlie's blood. A nurse had given him a green scrub top to wear. It didn't help. He could still smell the sharp metallic tang of blood and could see it on his hands. He had clenched his teeth as his stomach churned, bile rising in the back of his throat.

One. He'd finally stopped pacing one hour ago and joined his dad in the hard plastic chairs. He had put his hands between his knees and squeezed, trying to control to tremors that wouldn't seem to stop. What was taking so long?

Now, he sat. His anxious brown eyes were glued to the set of double doors. He said every prayer he could think of. Before he realized his prayers had been answered, the doors swung open and a short, balding man strode into the room.

"You're here for Charles Eppes?" he addressed them. There was no one else in the waiting room given the late hour.

"How's Charlie?" Alan demanded, immediately on his feet.

"He came through the surgery well and is now in recovery. If all goes well, he'll be in a room on the orthopedic floor within the hour."

"Can we see him?" Alan anxiously asked.

"Not yet. Once he's in a regular room, I'll let you in to see him for a few minutes, but only a few minutes. Visiting hours are over, but I'll make an exception for you. Now, I wanted to discuss Dr. Eppes' -"

"Charlie," Don interrupted him.

"I wanted to discuss Charlie's injury with the two of you. If you'd follow me, please."

Exchanging looks, Don and Alan followed the doctor through the double doors to an empty exam room. They watched the doctor as he flipped on a light board with an x-ray clipped to it. Don was no doctor, but knew what he was looking at was bad. He could clearly see the fracture lines where the bone should have been solid, and the bullet embedded in the bone.

"This is an x-ray of Charlie's hip before the procedure. As you can see, the bullet entered one inch below the ilium, or hip, at a downward trajectory where it impacted the greater trochanter slightly below the joint. In other words, the bullet has fractured the very top of Charlie's femur just outside of where the femur meets the hip. He was lucky the joint itself wasn't involved. We removed the bullet and repaired the trochanter with a series of pins and a plate. I know it sounds bad, but with physical therapy he should make a complete recovery."

"Are you sure? I mean look at the damage there!" Alan stated.

The doctor suppressed a smile. "This is a very common procedure, Mr. Eppes. Granted, this procedure is usually performed on an elderly person that has fallen and broken a hip. This is the first gun shot related hip fracture I've repaired. Due to the fracture being caused by a gun shot wound, there was also damage to the muscles and surrounding tissues which will slow his recovery slightly."

Alan was having a hard time taking this all in. "You're telling me, after all this, my son will be able to walk normally?"

"Provided there are no complications, there's no reason your son shouldn't be able to return to his pre-injury state eventually, although he may have a limp. Charlie is young and in excellent physical condition. I wouldn't recommend he take up any rigorous sports, though."

Don's breath rushed from his lungs as he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Charlie was going to be okay.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I take it you're Don and Alan Eppes?" a kindly, older nurse asked.

"That's right," Don answered her.

"Dr. Haberson has allowed ten minutes of visiting time for the two of you. We just got Dr. Eppes settled in his room, so when you're ready you can follow me."

Don and Alan followed the nurse down the darkened halls to a private room at the end of the hall. Glancing at the clock, Don noted it was now past midnight. He couldn't remember seeing a hospital so quiet. The nurse stopped outside Charlie's room and addressed them.

"Charlie was conscious when he returned from the recovery room, but because of the nature of his injury, he is on a morphine pump. Don't be surprised if he is asleep and stays that way for the next few hours. His body's been through a lot. I'll be back in ten minutes to retrieve you."

Alan was the first to enter the room. Despite the darkness of the hallway, the bright overhead lights in Charlie's room were turned on, fully illuminating everything. Even the sights he and Don didn't want to see.

Two IV's dripped fluid into the backs of Charlie's hands; one fluid was red, the other clear. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his upper right arm, and a clip was on his index finger. Both were attached to a small machine sitting beside the bed. The button for the morphine pump was clipped to the front of Charlie's gown. Don didn't want to think about what the other tubes were for.

"Oh, Charlie. What have you done to yourself?" Alan quietly asked him, while laying a hand on his forearm. Don had explained everything to him. He just couldn't believe Charlie had done what Don said. He had no trouble believing Charlie would go out of his way to help someone; he did it all the time. Jumping in front of a bullet was a whole new ball game.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Two days later found Charlie sitting up in the bed, pushing his food lazily around the tray, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his hip. Food in general was unappealing to him, and hospital food even more so. He picked at what was supposed to be beef stew, certain whatever gruel they were feeding him wouldn't even pass as canned dog food. Just thinking about the food made his stomach clench.

When he had initially awoken, his father and Don had been there. To say he was surprised to see Don smiling was an understatement. Don had explicitly told him to stay in the car and he had not listened. As a result, he had been injured. Don had patiently explained to him he had saved the little girl's life, a fact his drugged mind had forgotten, and was not mad in any way. Just the realization that he had not let his older brother down allowed him to rest peacefully.

After that, the pain had started to get to him. He'd never had surgery before, but hadn't expected the pain to be so bad, or the morphine to feel so good. They had taken away his pain pump earlier in the day, telling him it was time he switch to oral or injectable pain medications. He didn't care. After two doses of the morphine, he'd felt foggy and was unable to concentrate, and that scared him. On the other hand, if he didn't take the morphine, the pain interfered with his concentration as well.

"Hey, Charlie," Don quietly called as he entered the room. "You're looking good, Buddy."

"Glad you think so," he morosely replied. In frustration, he threw the fork down and pushed the tray aside.

Don pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "You know, they'll never let you out of here if you don't start eating."

"Would you eat this?"

Don grimaced. "Probably not, but that's not the point. I know that when you're in pain, food is less than appealing."

Charlie sharply glanced at him, his brown eyes staring hard into Don's. How did he know?

"I've been hurt on the job, Charlie. I know. Your nurse also stopped me in the hall on the way in. She said when she took away the morphine pump today it was almost full. She also said you haven't asked for any painkillers since. What gives, Charlie?"

"I don't know, Don. I just..."

"No. Don't give me that. You have a reason for doing everything. I also hear the physical therapist isn't very happy with you. You know they want you up and walking as soon as possible, but if you're not going to take the painkillers they will get you up without them. No one wants to have to do that."

Charlie mulled it over before answering. Lying was something he just couldn't do, and Don wouldn't leave it be without a satisfactory answer.

"It makes me feel weird."

"Weird? Like how."

"Foggy. I can't think, do math, function..."

"Charlie, you're in the hospital. You're not supposed to do math; you're here to recuperate!" Frustration was evident in his voice.

"Don, you know how important math is to me. Not being able to think scares me."

"It's what narcotics do, Charlie. It's part of the reason they're so addictive. What about something not as strong as morphine?" Don leaned forward, as though his proximity to Charlie could help him see reason.

"I hadn't thought about that." Charlie's gaze looked inwards, and his eyebrows raised as he considered that option.

"I didn't think so. I'll go talk to the nurse and see what I can do, all right?"

"Yeah, sure."

It was only minutes later when Don returned with the nurse in tow. Charlie surmised that she must have been waiting in the hall for Don to give her the go ahead.

She handed him a paper cup containing one white pill, explaining what it was. "This is Percocet, Charlie. It is still a narcotic, but not as powerful as morphine. Hopefully, this won't cloud your thinking as much, but will still take care of the pain. The dose can still be cut in half if you feel this is too strong, all right?"

He nodded his acquiescence and swallowed the pill. He was just glad she didn't give him the 'pain control is important, we don't tolerate macho behaviour here' speech like the previous nurse had. Granted, it was an effective way to get the point across, but macho was not what he was trying to be.

"I'd also highly recommend you eat along with this pill or you'll be throwing up within the hour. Pain killers are very hard on the stomach." As though reading his mind, she glanced at Don. "The cafeteria has a variety of soup available. I can see getting him to eat this might be a lost cause."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll be back shortly, okay Charlie?"

"I'll be here."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Charlie had been presently surprised by the Percocet. Not only did it dull the pain to a minor throb, it also didn't cloud his mind like the morphine. He could still do his math while at the same time move from his bed to the chair with only some discomfort. The drug also evoked a feeling he couldn't put his finger on. He felt almost peaceful, which was an emotion he was seriously lacking as of late.

Only one day had passed since Don had given him the pain killer lecture, but it felt like weeks ago. With his appetite slowly coming back and sleeping patterns returning to normal, he was told it was only a matter of days before he'd be released into his father's care. The physical therapist had even had him use a walker to walk across the room.

He'd sweet talked Larry into bringing his laptop so he could still work, and Amita would stop by to update him on how his students were doing in his absence.

A dull throb in his hip was starting to make itself known. Looking at the clock, he realized it was just about time for his next dose of Percocet. After pressing the call bell, he patiently waited for it to arrive.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

TBC

Constructive comments greatly appreciated!