Megan, the other agents and the deputy stared at the burning store in shock. She couldn't believe that Rutherford had blown himself up. She just knew her profile had been right...
She heard sirens and looked over her shoulder to see the HRT van flying into the lot, its tires squealing as the driver brought it to a sudden halt. The captain of the unit hopped out of the vehicle and stormed to Megan's side. "What happened?" he demanded.
"Rutherford set it off," she answered.
"You mean you convinced a law enforcement officer to go in there, just so he could get killed?" The captain was angry, having argued with Megan earlier about the foolishness of her idea. "You sentenced him to death."
"He knew it would happen," she whispered in disbelief as she met the other man's eyes. "He said he knew the whole time."
"You wouldn't be trying to cover for yourself, would you?"
"No, she isn't," Deputy Waller said as he stepped between the female agent and the captain. "Something in the sheriff changed right before he went in there. In my opinion, he had resigned himself to die."
"You think your opinion matters?" the captain asked angrily.
"Yes. Considering how long I've known Roy, I think it does."
"We heard him on the phone," Colby said as he gestured to himself and David. "He knew he was going to die."
"You heard that, huh? With your psychic powers?"
"No," David replied testily. "He was speaking into the phone very loudly. We could hear the gist of what he was saying."
"Sure you could," the captain barked. He looked Megan in the eye and jabbed a finger at her chest. "This isn't over, Agent Reeves. I can promise you that." He turned and stalked back to his van, climbing in and motioning for the driver to take them back to the office.
"It's okay, Megan," David said as he lay a hand on her shoulder. "We've got your back."
"Thanks," she whispered. "But I'm not entirely blameless." She looked down at her hands, imagining them covered in the sheriff's blood. "If you guys don't mind getting the crime scene guys in here, I want to go ahead and get back to the office."
"Need a ride?" Colby asked in a surprisingly gentle tome of voice.
"Thanks, Granger, but I'll be fine."
David and Colby watched Megan's silhouette as she walked away into the setting sun, defeat obvious in every part of her body.
--
Alan sat in the waiting room of Northbay Medical Center, studying the well worn tiles on the floor and trying to deal with the sudden wave of exhaustion that had come over him. He'd arrived quite a while ago, but everything since then had been a blur. He was certain he'd remembered to call David and tell him about Charlie's conference and what time his flight was getting in. Beyond that, Alan's mind hadn't really been able to string together any coherent thoughts.
He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration as images from the ambulance ride played in his mind. Images of Don, his complexion paler than Alan could ever remember seeing it, tearfully asking his father if he could go to sleep now. Images of the medic recording his son's vitals with a worried look on his face before calling out to his partner to 'Step on it'. Images of his oldest boy being whisked away from him into the emergency area while a kind nurse gently steered him to the waiting room with a promise that she would personally keep tabs on Don's condition.
Alan shook his head and studied the clock on the wall. Eleven o'clock at night? Could that be right? Had it really only been just over twelve hours since this whole ordeal had begun? Alan felt like he'd aged ten years in this one day alone. He wearily sank into the uncomfortable chair, welcoming the twinge of pain in his back as it helped distract him from unwanted thoughts of what might be happening with Don.
Around midnight, the nurse he had seen earlier appeared by the exhausted man's side, lightly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. "Mister Eppes?"
Alan's eyes shot open, darting around the room as he experienced a moment of disorientation. "Yes?" he asked hopefully.
"Don's out of surgery. He's in recovery right now and we should be moving him to a room very soon."
"So he's okay?"
She smiled and nodded. "He'd lost a lot of blood, but we gave him a transfusion, got some fluids in his system and patched up the gunshot wound. He's going to be fine."
"Thank God," Alan whispered.
"There's a little infection, too, but we have him on antibiotics for that." She patted the older man's shoulder. "Normally we have very strict visiting hours, but I discussed your situation with the doctor. He's agreed to let you stay around the clock for the next two days, at which point it should be safe to relocate your son to a hospital closer to home."
"Thank you, Alice," Alan replied as moisture gathered in his eyes. "You have no idea how much that means to me."
"I have two sons, myself. I know how I'd feel if they were hurt and such a long way from home." She pointed to a bundle she had placed on the chair beside him. "Scrubs and a towel. I thought maybe you'd want to clean up a bit while we're waiting on Don to be moved into his room."
"That sounds wonderful," he thanked her.
She led him to a private office with an adjoining bathroom, explaining the doctor was on vacation this week, and told Alan to take his time. She promised to come and get him when Don was ready, before leaving Alan alone in the room.
The tired man made his way to the sink and turned the tap on, letting the water run for a minute to warm up. He looked down at his hands and, for the first time, noticed that they were covered in dried blood. Don's blood. His son's blood. His stomach turned and Alan dashed for the toilet, reaching it just in time to empty its meager contents. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he flushed the toilet and returned to the sink. He pressed the soap dispenser until the palm of his hand was overflowing with soap, and roughly scrubbed at the blood until it began to fade. The water draining from the sink had taken on a deep pinkish red tint, a la Psycho, and Alan squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of more blood today. When he was certain it was safe to look, he opened his eyes and examined his hands, finding that they were no longer red, but bright pink due to his vigorous scrubbing.
Alan looked down at the clothes he was wearing and was again overwhelmed at the amount of dark red staining his shirt. He briefly wondered how his son could have lost that much blood and still be alive, but quickly shoved that thought away. He turned the shower on, making sure the water was as warm as he could stand it, stripped off his soiled clothes and stepped into the welcome warmth. He merely stood in the stream of water as it washed over him, his body relaxing as the stress of the day melted away and flowed down the drain.
Fifteen minutes later, Alan was clean, dry, and wearing a dark green set of scrubs. He was perched on the edge of the office couch, eagerly waiting for the nurse to come retrieve him. It wasn't too much longer before she did just that, knocking on the door and poking her head in when he answered.
"Don's been moved to his room," Alice told him. "Are you ready to see him?" At Alan's nod she smiled brightly. "I thought you might be."
She led him through a maze of corridors until they reached a wing of private rooms. "There's a recliner in each of our private rooms, but I've also had a cot brought in since you'll be staying with us."
"That's very thoughtful, thank you."
"My pleasure. Also, I know you may not be very hungry, but the kitchen doesn't open until seven tomorrow morning, so I've left a sandwich, chips, and a Coke in the room for you. If possible, you need to eat so you can stay strong for your son."
"I'll keep that in mind," he replied as she opened the door to room 308, leading him inside.
"Private bathroom there," she whispered as she gestured at the door on the right. "Closet here, on the left. If you need anything, your duty nurse is Sarah. Her name is written on his board," she gestured to a dry erase board on the wall opposite Don's bed. "I'll be getting off duty soon, but I'll be by to check on you two in the morning, okay?"
"Thank you, Alice," Alan whispered. "You've been so kind."
"Don't mention it, Mister Eppes."
"Alan," he smiled. "Please call me Alan."
"Alright. See you tomorrow, Alan." She left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Alan stood next to the hospital bed and stared down at the pale figure cocooned in sheets and blankets. He reached out and placed a hand on Don's cheek, frowning at the warmth he felt radiating from the skin. He glanced at his son's IV bag to reassure himself that Don was getting the medicines he needed, antibiotics included. Satisfied that all seemed to be in order, Alan strained to move the recliner until it was almost touching the bed. He sank into it with a low groan, his muscles finally speaking out about all of the abuse they had been put through from bending and sitting on a hard floor all day, not to mention carrying around his full grown son's weight. Sighing as he relaxed into the welcoming cushions, the older man reached out and intertwined his fingers with Don's, careful not to dislodge the IV in the back of his hand. He brought their hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on his son's fingers, before resting their joined hands on his chest. He lightly rubbed his thumb across Don's knuckles and smiled at his injured son.
"I'm here, Donny. We'll just rest for a while." As Alan spoke, his eyelids grew heavy and he blinked sleepily in an effort to stay awake, but his body and soul were too tired and he soon joined his son in a peaceful slumber.
--
"Thanks a lot, Dad," Charlie grumbled as he paid the cab driver and stormed up the walkway to his house, passing by a black SUV he assumed was his brother's. The light in the living room was on and only served to intensify the young man's anger. He stuck the key in the door and turned the lock, telling himself his father probably had a good reason for not picking him up, but not believing himself at all. As he walked through the door, he immediately turned around to close and lock it. "Hey, Dad! You might want to check your messages every once in a while."
"It's me, Charlie."
The professor jumped a foot in the air as David's voice spoke from behind him. He whipped around and his weary eyes confirmed that the agent was in his living room at – he glanced at his watch – two in the morning. "David?" he asked nervously. "What are you doing here?"
"I've got some bad news," David spoke softly. "Don and your father were involved in a hostage situation today."
"You mean that Don made Dad wait in the car while he negotiated with some crazy man, right?" Charlie's tone was pleading and his eyes implored David to answer 'yes'.
"I'm afraid they were the hostages. The standoff lasted most of the day and..." David studied the professor's face as it drained of color. "Maybe you should sit down."
"No," Charlie snapped. "Tell me."
"Don was shot in the leg. When we finally got them released, he was in pretty bad shape." Seeing Charlie's face grow even paler, he quickly added, "He's fine, though. Made it to the hospital and he'll be good as new in a few weeks."
"What about Dad?"
"He wasn't injured at all," David promised. "He has been through the emotional wringer. He was with Don the whole day, right there with him as he..." David couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth – Charlie didn't need to hear all of the gory details. "They're both fine, but I wanted to pick you up and take you to them."
"Are they at UCLA?" Charlie asked as he grabbed his overnight bag and pulled the clothes from the trip out.
"No," David informed him. "They were up in Green Valley when this happened. Don's at Northbay Medical in Fairfield."
Charlie raised his eyebrows. "That's a ways away. Let me pack some stuff for me and Dad and then I'll be ready to go."
David nodded as the young man disappeared upstairs. He was honestly surprised at the level of composure with which the younger Eppes was handling the situation. Not that he'd expected him to run and hide or break down in a fit of sobbing, but David himself had seemed more affected by what had happened to Don. Of course, Charlie had yet to see his older brother's current condition and when he did, well… that might be the tipping point.
The sound of steps thundering down the stairs drew David's attention. Charlie nodded at him as he slung the overnight bag over his shoulder and grabbed his laptop. "Let's go."
TBC