Two days after they came home from the hospital, Charlie silently pushed open the door to Don's room. He had left Don in bed earlier, dozing to the sound of the Dodgers game on TV, which was now turned off. Don had gotten out of bed, and was sitting in a chair by the bedroom window. His left elbow rested on the window sill with his head propped on his hand. He protectively held his right hand against his stomach.

"Hey, Charlie," Don quietly greeted him.

"Hey," Charlie replied. "How did you know it was me?"

"Dad's steps are heavier, and his breathing sounds different." Don allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "And while you both give off a hovering vibe, his is about a hundred times stronger than yours."

Charlie gave a quick laugh, before turning serious. "We don't mean to bother you," he apologized. "We just want to make sure you're getting better."

"I know," Don sighed. "Actually, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm getting used to the mother hen routine."

Charlie smiled at his brother as he walked over to stand by the window. He leaned his head against the glass and gazed outside.

"Is it a pretty day?"

"Yeah," Charlie answered, momentarily taken off guard by Don's question. He glanced at his brother, who still had his face turned toward the window. "There are a few clouds in the sky, but it's mostly sunny."

Don remained silent, but Charlie could tell he longed to be outside, playing baseball or golf, or even just going for a run. Yesterday, Charlie had suggested they go outside and either take a walk or just sit and relax in the backyard, but Don had quickly vetoed the idea so vehemently that he had dropped the subject for the rest of the day. Now, sensing Don's mood, he decided to try again.

"We could go outside."

Don kept his head turned toward the window as if he hadn't heard his brother speak. As Charlie was about to give up, Don turned his head toward him and nervously swallowed.

"I would need to hold onto you."

Charlie's face lit up at Don's words. "Of course. You can trust me."

"I know I can, Charlie."

Charlie's heart swelled with pride at Don's level of trust in him. "Let me get your shoes."

He retrieved the slip-on shoes his dad had bought for Don to wear while he was recovering. Knowing better than to help him put them on, Charlie set them next to his brother's feet and guided his uninjured hand to where they sat. When Don had been getting ready to leave the hospital, he had wasted no time in letting his younger brother know that he was perfectly capable of putting on slip-on shoes by himself, even if he was blind and using only one hand. Charlie had been thrilled by Don's angry declaration, because he knew it meant that his brother was truly ready to face the challenges ahead.

Don finished putting on the shoes and stood, holding his left arm out in his little brother's direction. Charlie slid next to Don and guided him to hold onto his right arm. Charlie then placed his hand over Don's to reinforce the support.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," Don replied as he nodded.

They maneuvered out of the bedroom and down the hall to the staircase. Charlie stepped down one step and Don carefully followed. He lost his balance for a moment and, without thinking, threw out his right hand to steady himself. He hissed in pain as his injured hand came into contact with the railing.

"Are you alright?" Charlie asked with worry in his voice.

Don nodded as he gritted his teeth against the pain. "Just give me a second."

"Take your time." Charlie gently rubbed Don's shoulder as he waited for his brother to get the pain under control.

After a couple of minutes Don's breathing returned to normal, and he nodded for them to continue. Charlie held his breath as he carefully led his brother down the rest of the stairs. He noticed Don was keeping his right hand closely guarded against his chest.

They made it down the stairs without further incident. They stepped outside and Don's spirits lifted as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and breathed in the fresh, outdoor air.

"Do you want to stay in the yard?" Charlie asked.

Don shook his head. He'd been cooped up in the house for almost two days. He needed to move, to loosen up and stretch out his muscles. "Let's walk."

"Sure," Charlie agreed. "Let's go to the stop sign down the street. I don't want you to overdo it and start coughing."

Charlie led him down the sidewalk at a very easy, casual pace. Don could sense Charlie glancing at him every few feet, making sure he was still alright. He gently squeezed his younger brother's arm to reassure him that he was fine.

"Almost there," Charlie spoke after a few more steps. When they reached the intersection, he slowly turned them around and began leading Don back home.

Don was so wrapped up in following Charlie and maintaining his balance, that the sound of two cars pulling up to the intersection behind them barely registered in his mind. Both of the cars started into the intersection at the same time, causing one of the drivers to sit on his horn.

The loud, blaring sound broke Don's concentration. He instinctively whipped around toward the sound, losing his balance in the process. He began to fall and tried to prepare himself for the painful landing. Instead, his fall was stopped short as Charlie grabbed him under both of his arms and held him on his feet. Don leaned into his brother, his heart racing as he gasped for air, which brought on a bout of coughing. He felt Charlie's arms tighten around him as his little brother soothingly rubbed his back. Don rested his cheek on Charlie's shoulder as he tried to stop coughing. He was aware of a voice in his ear, but was too focused on catching his breath to understand the words.

As he finally suppressed the coughing he heard Charlie's voice. "Are you okay now?"

"Get me home," Don whispered pleadingly.

Charlie's stomach knotted at the sound of fear and desperation in his brother's voice. He had never heard him sound like that in his entire life. Charlie adjusted his grip on Don, who latched onto his arm so tightly that it actually hurt. He ignored the pain in his arm as he led his older brother home as quickly as he dared. He glanced at Don's face, frowning at the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

"We're almost there," he told Don as they neared the house. Don relaxed his grip as he silently nodded in response.

As they reached the house, Charlie could tell his brother was exhausted, and doubted he could make it up the stairs even with his help. "Let's stay downstairs and change your bandages. That way you can rest on the couch until dinner."

Don had also been dreading the trip upstairs, so he nodded thankfully at Charlie's suggestion. "That sounds great."

A few minutes later, Don had removed his bandages and was sitting on the couch, waiting for Charlie. He heard Charlie come down the stairs and over to the coffee table, where he proceeded to sit down with what Don imagined was a large pile of medicine and bandages.

"You've already washed the injured areas, right?" his little brother asked.

"Yes," Don answered, trying not to let his annoyance at the question show. He knew Charlie was just being cautious, but he wasn't a child who needed to be told what to do.

"Sorry," Charlie apologized, apparently picking up on his older brother's frustration.

Don sighed. "No, Charlie, I'm sorry. I've just been so frustrated-"

"I know," Charlie cut him off quickly. He really did understand Don's frustration. His brother was a great FBI agent, used to relying on his senses, especially eyesight, heightened by years of training and practice. He could only imagine how lost, and even afraid, his brother was right now. Charlie felt helpless to ease any of his brother's fears, so he settled for making sure he helped Don take care of the physical injuries as best he could.

"I'm ready."

Charlie looked up and saw his brother holding out his injured hand. Charlie poured some saline solution in a bowl and guided Don's hand to soak in it. While it was soaking, Charlie laid out the antibiotic ointment and fresh bandages. He peeked up at Don's face, smiling when he saw his brother's eyes were closed, his expression relaxed. His smile faded as he felt a twinge of guilt. It was his fault that Don had gotten hurt. If only he'd listened to him and not gone to that warehouse... Charlie took a deep breath as he battled his emotions.

"You okay, Buddy?"

"What? Oh yeah, just thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing," Charlie quickly replied, not wanting to start a discussion about guilt.

"Are you sure?" Don's voice was skeptical.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Charlie cut off any possible attempt at further discussion of the issue by grasping Don's hand and removing it from the solution. He gently patted the area dry with a clean towel. He consciously avoided looking at Don's face while he did so, knowing that no matter how gentle he was, he still caused his brother pain. He couldn't stand that at anytime, but especially not now with those feelings of guilt bubbling just below the surface.

Once the area was dry, Charlie lightly coated the burned area with antibiotic ointment. Then he wrapped the injured hand with the bandage he had laid out earlier. When he was done, he guided the hand back to his brother's lap, where Don flexed his fingers and checked to make sure the bandage wasn't too tight.

"Perfect," Don informed him. "Thanks."

"Let's move to the dining table to do your eyes." Don nodded. "Do you need me to guide you?"

"I can get to the table by myself."

"Okay, you do that and I'll get the saline wash ready."

Charlie watched as Don stood. He took small, shuffling steps through the living room and into the dining room. He had his good hand stretched out, looking to find the table before he ran into it. Charlie watched him until he was sure Don would be okay, unwilling to risk having his brother hurt himself again. While Don was settling into the a chair, Charlie prepared the solution and brought it to the table. He set it in front of his brother and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's right in front of you," he told Don, as he guided his good hand to the side of the bowl. Don slowly bent over and submerged his eyes in the solution. "Remember to blink rapidly."

"I know." Don actually didn't mind this part of the treatment because the wash was soothing to his eyes. He always dreaded the next part, because the ointment for his eyes was so thick and sticky, and he always felt like he was gluing his eyes shut. Without realizing it, he let out a deep sigh.

"It's going to get better," Charlie assured him, as he rested a hand on Don's shoulder. "You have to remember that."

Don smiled at his little brother's words. The one good thing he would take from this situation was the fact that Charlie did actually seem to be staying out of his own little world, and seemed to be more attuned to other people's needs, especially his.

"Time's up," Charlie said as he gently tugged on his brother's shoulder. Once Don was sitting upright, he tilted his head back while Charlie administered his eye drops. "Alright, time for the last part."

Charlie cupped Don's cheek with his hand, and, using his thumb, gently pulled downward. This caused Don's lower eyelid to come away from his eye, leaving the perfect spot to apply the ointment. Charlie winced as he heard Don let out a little hiss of pain. He hated hurting his big brother, but it had to be done. He applied a stripe of ointment across the eyelid and then released it back to its normal position. Don blinked reflexively, his body heat thinning the ointment, and allowing it to coat the entire eye. Charlie quickly moved to the other eye, wanting to be finished as soon as possible. He then wrapped bandages around his brother's eyes, both to hold in the moisture and to prevent his eyes from automatically straining to see.

When he was through, Charlie wearily sank into the chair next to Don. The treatment sessions, not to mention seeing his brother in pain, took a lot out of him emotionally. He studied his brother, who was idly drumming the fingers of his good hand on the table.

"Feeling better?" Don nodded. "Hungry? Thirsty?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Want to listen to the TV or radio? I'm sure I can find a game on somewhere." Charlie knew that Don was knowledgeable enough about baseball, to still enjoy the games, even if he couldn't see them.

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you."

"What?" Charlie asked, totally caught off guard by the comment.

"Outside. It was just a stupid car horn. I don't know why I freaked out like that."

"I wouldn't say you freaked out," Charlie replied. "I know you were startled, but that's to be expected. Your world has changed significantly in the past two days. I'm just sorry I'm not doing a better job helping you adjust."

"A better job? You're doing a great job."

"Yeah, well it's the least I can do." Charlie sucked in a breath as he realized he'd spoken aloud.

"You're blaming yourself for this?" Don gestured to his eyes.

"Don't you?"

"No, why would I?"

"Like you pointed out before, you told me not to go to that warehouse. I should have listened to you."

"Wait a minute, the great Charles Eppes is admitting he's wrong? And me without my tape recorder," Don joked. When Charlie remained silent, Don continued. "We didn't know that warehouse was going to be torched. I told you not to go because I knew there was a slim chance that someone might burn it, but certainly didn't think the chances were that great. I mean, I didn't even think it warranted a surveillance team. Besides, I might have gone in to rescue you, but who wound up rescuing who? This isn't your fault, Charlie. I need for you to understand that. Okay, Buddy?"

"Okay," Charlie whispered. He didn't necessarily agree with Don, but he definitely didn't want the conversation to continue.

Don wasn't fooled for a minute into thinking he'd convinced his little brother that he wasn't at fault, but he didn't push the issue, deciding to let Charlie think about it for a while.

TBC