Later that night, Don lay awake in bed, unable to sleep, his mind filled with worry. What if his blindness was permanent? Could he really stand to give up his job and go through life with a substantial handicap? He knew lots of other people went blind and adapted, but he just didn't think he had the strength to do it. The rational part of his mind kept telling him that he was still recovering from the trauma, and that, in time, he would find the strength, but with the way he felt right now, it was hard to believe that was true.

Sighing, he rolled over to see what time it was. He laughed bitterly as he was reminded that he couldn't see the clock. He rolled back over and sighed again, feeling his frustration growing. He hoped for the hundredth time that his blindness wouldn't be permanent.

Charlie. The thought popped in his head from out of nowhere. He knew Charlie was blaming himself for his injury. He supposed technically there was some blame on his little brother's part, but he hadn't caused the injury, and Don certainly didn't blame him. Of course, Charlie wouldn't listen to him, but then what else was new?

"Dammit," Don swore aloud as he sat up in bed. All he wanted was to go to sleep, wake up in the morning, and find out this was all a dream. At this point he'd settle for just being able to sleep. He shook his head, and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

He stood up and slowly made his way to the bedroom door. He leaned with his ear against it and listened. He heard no noise from the hallway, so he gently pushed the door open and crept out of his room. He stopped about where he knew his father's room was and listened at the door. He could just make out his father's snores and felt relief wash over him. Don knew his father had enough on his plate without having to worry about his son's insomnia.

Don carefully made his way down the stairs. He reached the bottom floor without incident, and smiled with pride. It was quickly replaced with disappointment as he realized how silly he was to be happy about such a minor accomplishment. Was that what it would be like for the rest of his life? Learning to do simple things all over again and being praised for them as if he were a small child? No, he couldn't take that.

He wearily sighed as he continued on his journey. He wandered through the silent house, navigating his way quite well, except for one little run-in with a dining chair. As he'd run into it, he'd known it shouldn't have been in the walkway. Either Charlie or his dad had left it out. He felt his heart sink even lower as he realized what a burden he would be on his family if he didn't get his eyesight back. They had both told him that they would support him, no matter what, but he knew they would get tired of having to pick up after themselves so he didn't hurt himself. Just like a child, he thought bitterly for the second time. Tears of frustration formed in his eyes, but he forced them away as he kept walking.

He eventually reached his destination- the garage. He entered cautiously, not wanting to run into anything, knowing that Charlie had a penchant for "redecorating" on the spur of the moment. He wasn't afraid of disturbing his little brother, knowing he would have his headphones on with the volume cranked up.

He continued inside, hearing the familiar sound of chalk on a blackboard. He found his way to a chair that hadn't, by some miracle, been relocated from earlier. He sank into it and listened to the sounds of his brother at work.

There were clicks and scrapes, and tapping of chalk as Charlie scribbled feverishly on the board. Sometimes the sounds would continue without hesitation for minutes at a time. Then they would stop as Charlie paused to either check his writing or to consult one of the many textbooks he always had littered about him. Then the reassuring sound of his writing would return as he moved on to the next part of his work.

Before Don realized it, the tension had left his body and he was stifling a yawn. He smiled and chuckled softly. Leave it to Charlie to put him to sleep.

"Don?"

"Hey, Charlie," he answered softly with the smile still on his face.

"Are you okay?" Charlie's voice was filled with confusion, no doubt wondering why his brother was out here at this hour.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh." He heard Charlie put the chalk down. "You want me to fix you something? Tea, cocoa, warm milk?"

Don's smile grew as he shook his head. "I just... Well, I figured you'd be up. I guess I wanted company."

"Sure." He heard Charlie walk toward him and flop down into a nearby chair. They sat for a moment, enjoying a companionable silence. Charlie was the first to break it. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Don hesitated. Should he give the tough big brother response or should he be honest? He decided on the latter. "Yeah, Buddy, I am."

Charlie swallowed uncomfortably. That was not the answer he'd been expecting. He floundered, looking for an appropriate response. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He rolled his eyes at his lame response. To his surprise, Don started laughing. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Don answered through his laughter. "It's just that, well, we're no good at this, are we?"

"At what?"

"At dealing with our emotions, or talking about our feelings. Dad's right, we should have had a sister."

Charlie smiled as he steepled his fingers and studied the floor. "Yeah," he agreed. "That probably would have helped."

They chuckled together and then fell into a comfortable silence. Charlie looked up and closely studied his older brother's face. He could tell that some of the worry lines had disappeared. In fact, Don looked more relaxed and at peace than he had since the accident. Maybe Larry was right. Maybe they should talk. Charlie took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Don."

"I know you are, Buddy. I know you think you're to blame for this, but I want you to know that I don't blame you."

"Really?" Charlie asked doubtfully.

"Really."

"Even though-"

"You didn't listen to me? Yeah, even though." He smiled in the direction of Charlie's voice before continuing. "I know you went to that warehouse after I asked you not to, and I went there to get you. And unfortunately the arsonist decided to strike that warehouse at that same time. But you didn't make him choose the target, Charlie. And you didn't make him start that fire. And actually, because we were there, the arsonist was caught. All in all, Charlie, this was a good thing."

Charlie smiled and shook his head. "Larry said you'd think that."

"Well, he is a very smart man."

"Yes he is," Charlie agreed. "I'll be honest, Don. I still feel guilty."

"I know you do, Buddy," Don's voice was filled with compassion. "And knowing you the way I do, I know you'll always feel guilty. Unfortunately, I can't change that. But I want you to listen to me very carefully." Don paused for emphasis. "I don't blame you for this, and I never will, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good," Don said around a yawn. "I think I can sleep now. You want to help your big brother up to bed?"

"I suppose you want me to read you a bedtime story, too," Charlie teased.

"Nah. Although, if you wanted to tell me about whatever it is you're working on, I'll bet I would get a good night's sleep."

"Hey!" Charlie protested. "Just for that, I'm not going to tell you about Larry and Megan."

Don raised his eyebrows. "What about them?"

Charlie hooked his arm through Don's and led him to the door. "They had another lunch date."

"Really?" Don snickered.

"Really."

TBC