Alan had been lightly dozing, tightly holding his feverish son against him, when the sound of the explosion woke him. Startled, his eyes flew open and he realized with relief that the room they were in was still intact. His racing heart started to calm until Don screamed out.

"Charlie!" Don's face twisted in pain as he struggled against his father's embrace. "No!"

"Shh, Donny," Alan whispered as he tightened his hold. "It's okay. Charlie's okay, I'm okay, and you're... okay." He stumbled over the last word, knowing his oldest son was anything but okay, but Don was too far gone to notice.

"Charlie," Don cried out again, his voice raspy from his yelling.

"It's okay," Alan crooned as he stroked the younger man's face. "Shh, you're dreaming. It's okay."

Don continued fitfully tossing his head and trying to draw away from his father's touch. "Need to find him," he mumbled. "…Take care of him."

"He okay?"

Alan looked up in shock as he saw Barry standing in the doorway. "He's running a very high fever."

"Charlie – that's his brother?" Alan silently nodded. "You said he protects him?"

"Yes," Alan said as he graced Don with a loving gaze. "Ever since they were kids all the way through now. Charlie hasn't always appreciated it, of course, but Don thinks – knows – it's his job."

"Yeah," Barry said quietly. "So he's really hot?"

Alan rested a hand on his son's forehead and frowned. "Burning up."

"Would something out here help him?" Barry jerked his thumb at the store behind him.

Alan raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Ibuprofen or Tylenol would help lower his fever."

"Don't move, old man." Barry's threat was only half-hearted as he waved the gun in their general direction. "I'll see what I can do."

As Barry left, Alan pondered his sudden change in attitude toward Don. Although he couldn't fathom it, he wasn't about to question any change that went in Don's favor. As he waited for Barry to return, Alan lifted Don away from the wall and slid in behind him, lowering his son so that he was resting with his back on Alan's chest, his head pillowed on his father's shoulder. The older man held the sports drink to Don's lips and slowly tipped the bottle until the liquid drizzled into his son's mouth. Don muttered in protest and tried to turn his head, but Alan cupped his cheek and held him in place.

"You need to drink," he whispered in his exhausted son's ear. Don sleepily obeyed and his father was briefly reminded of feeding Don when he was a baby – helpless and completely dependent upon his parents. Though the thought made Alan sick, he couldn't help but think that's what they had returned to today – and he wasn't about to let Don down. "That's it."

"Here," Barry quietly spoke as he entered the room. "It's a bottle of ibuprofen. Maybe that will help him some."

Alan took the bottle and met Barry's eyes, making sure to give him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Barry's tone immediately turned gruff. "Just keep him quiet, okay?" He turned and stalked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Alan shook his head as he opened the bottle of pain reliever. "I don't know what I did or said," he offered up quietly in prayer. "But please let me stay on a roll."

He placed two pills in Don's mouth and, after several awkward moments, he had his son washing them down with orange sports drink. "Good job," Alan softly praised him. "You just keep sleeping."

Alan's voice penetrated through the hazy swirl of pain and heat clouding Don's mind, bringing him back to the present. "Dad?" he whispered faintly.

"Shh, rest now. I'll be right here with you."

Too tired to argue, Don relaxed into the solid warmth and familiar scent that was his father, and allowed himself to be carried away on the gentle, undulating tones of his voice.

--

"Sheriff." Andrew paused as Morrison continued to gaze at the smoldering wreckage that had been the hostages' truck. "Roy."

The older man came out of his trance and met the deputy's eyes. "We should do something."

Andrew held back a gasp. "Yeah. I need to call in the coroner, don't you think?"

Morrison frowned. The county coroner in this little part of the world was an elected official and the office was currently occupied by Green Valley's prominent – well, only – mortician. "I don't see what good dragging Evelyn down here would do. Marshall is beyond help, and it would just give him," the sheriff gestured hatefully at the store, "Someone else to injure. No, Andrew. Just let the Feds get here. Then they can decide what to do."

"Are you sure?" Andrew asked in disbelief.

Morrison laughed bitterly. "No, Andrew. I'm not sure of anything any more."

"I'll see how far out the Feds are," the younger man offered as he disappeared to his car. He sank into the driver's seat and studied his boss. He knew Morrison was hiding something, and apparently it was something big, but he had no idea what. He also knew that there was some sort of connection between the sheriff and the bomber, but he didn't have a grip on that either. Sighing, he got on his cell and dialed the contact number Marshall had slipped him earlier.

"Reeves."

Andrew hesitated at the strong, confident, female voice on the other end. "This is Deputy Andrew Waller. You're the contact for Agent Eppes' team?"

"I'm his second in command, yes," she answered. "Tell me, Deputy Waller, what's the current situation down there?"

"It's not good, I'm afraid. Sheriff's talked to the suspect twice. This last time... well, the suspect killed one of our deputies."

"How?"

"He planted a bomb under your boss's car. Set off the blast when he saw Marshall examining the interior."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Reeves told him, her voice full of a sincere warmth. "Any more news on the hostages?"

"No," Andrew told her. He hesitated, his gut telling him that he was speaking to a very competent, trustworthy agent, and that he should give her a heads up on the sheriff's secretiveness. "Agent Reeves, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"I'd appreciate it if you kept this quiet, because it's merely an observation."

"Of course," the agent assured him.

"I think the sheriff knows this guy pretty well from somewhere in his past. And I'm certain that he's hiding something, I just don't know what."

"I see."

"I can't very well dig into his background without him noticing, plus we just don't have those kinds of resources here." He paused, certain that if he was wrong, he'd just ended his career. "I think you should do the digging into his past."

"Sounds like a good idea," she agreed. "What's his name?"

"Roy Morrison. He moved out here about ten years ago from somewhere on the east coast. Virginia, maybe." He heard her muffled voice as she relayed the information to someone beside her.

"Okay, Deputy Waller-"

"Andrew, ma'am. We use first names around here."

"Okay then, Andrew," she spoke. "Call me Megan. And thanks for the heads up. We're about forty minutes out, so we should have something by the time we get there."

"Oh, and Megan? Call in an ambulance, paramedic, SWAT – whatever you need. The sheriff seems to be reluctant to involve anyone else."

"Will do, Andrew. See you soon."

--

"Fever gone down?"

Alan opened his eyes to see Barry standing in the doorway again. He really needed to quit dozing off – that wasn't doing him or Don any good. He laid a hand on his son's brow and frowned. "If it has, it's not nearly enough."

"Did you give him more of those pills?"

Alan shook his head. "He's already near the high end dose. I don't want to overload him on drugs on top of his injury and infection."

"You think he can make it?" Barry's voice had dropped to a whisper as he knelt just out of the other man's reach.

"If he gets help soon, yes." Alan studied Barry, still baffled by his change in attitude toward Don. "You have an older brother, I take it?"

Barry looked up, a fleeting look of immense sadness crossing his young face. "Yeah, I did," he spoke softly. "His name was Gerald. He used to..." Their captor trailed off and stared thoughtfully at Don. "He used to take care of me. Protect me from things. Tried to, at least."

"Sounds like a great man," Alan told him. "What happened?"

Barry's eyes turned cold and he glared at Alan. "My father happened." He sighed and sat on the floor. "That's why I'm here – to make him face what he did."

"I don't understand," Alan gently said. "How are you going to do that by taking us hostage in this tiny town?"

"This 'tiny town' is home to the big fish that I'm after," Barry laughed bitterly.

"Your father lives here?" Alan inquired.

"You got it."

They were interrupted as Don groaned and twisted in his father's arms, releasing a faint sob as he jarred his injured leg against the desk. Alan hugged him tighter, gently rocking him as he pressed a light kiss to his son's temple. "It's okay, Donny. Shh. Just lie still for me."

Barry watched in awe as the unconscious agent obeyed his father's words, pressing against the older man's chest and sighing deeply as he drifted back to sleep. He felt a twinge of jealousy as the older hostage tenderly caressed the Fed's cheek, wondering what it must be like for a father to love his son that much.

"We need to get his fever down," Alan spoke, consciously using the word 'we' in an attempt to make Barry feel needed by someone's big brother.

"How?" the young man replied, unaware of the effect of Alan's words on him.

"There's an ice machine inside, right?"

"I think so," Barry nodded as he climbed to his feet. "I'll go grab a bag."

"Barry!"

The gunman turned around and fixed Alan with an intense gaze. The older Eppes held his breath, worried he might have pushed too hard. "My name's Chris."

"Chris," Alan smiled as relief filled his being. "That's a good name."

"My mother picked it out."

"Sounds like a good woman," Alan told him.

There was a barely perceptible waver in his voice. "She was."

"Grab some towels, too," Alan said. "Something we can wrap the ice in. Okay?" Chris nodded as he left the office. Alan uttered another prayer of thanks that their captor seemed to be getting attached to Don. Now, all he really needed to do was to find out what happened to Gerald and who Chris was after, knowing that information could prove invaluable if and when hostage negotiations ever started.

TBC