A soft groan cut through Alan's dreams and drew him back to the present. He looked at Don, whose eyes were twitching under his lids. He groaned again and his brow creased in pain. "Dad," he muttered as his hand spasmed in Alan's grasp.

Alan leaned forward, maintaining his grip on Don's hand, as he rested his other one on his son's forehead. "Can you hear me?" he called softly.

Don's eyes twitched more quickly at the sound of his father's voice, but he remained silent.

"Donny?" Alan called again as he ran his fingers through his son's soft, dark hair. "Are you with me? Can you open your eyes?"

"Dad," Don breathed softly as he rolled his head to face his father. His eyelids fluttered and finally slid open, the brown orbs drifting aimlessly around the room until they landed on Alan's face. "Dad."

"It's me," the older man smiled as he continued the soothing motions through Don's hair. "It's nice to see you awake."

Don blinked, but lacked the energy to do much more than that.

"Are you in pain?"

"No," Don answered with a breathless whisper. "Where…?"

"Are we?" Alan finished. "A hospital in Fairfield. Do you remember what happened?"

Don's eyes were dull as he studied his father's face, trying to remember anything from that day. Suddenly the memory of a searing, white hot jolt to his leg sprang into his mind, and Don gasped. "Shot?"

"Yes – in the leg. I thought you weren't in pain," Alan replied, alarmed by his son's reaction. "I can get you something."

"Not hurt." Don weakly shook his head. "Remembering."

"Well, try to think of something more pleasant," his father suggested.

"Like?"

"How about the nice, huge rib-eyes I plan on grilling when you get out of here?"

"Nice," Don softly sighed.

Alan chuckled. "I thought that might do it." He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on Don's forehead. "Get some more rest now, son. I'm not going anywhere."

"...Kay." Don concentrated on the hand running through his hair, letting the soothing rhythm carry him off to sleep.

--

Charlie quietly slipped though the door to room 308, setting his bag and laptop by the closet before moving to his brother's side. His heart ached as he studied the ghostly white figure lying motionless under the covers. Oh my God, he thought to himself. What did he do to you? David had filled him in on the basics during the ride up to Fairfield, but nothing the agent had said was enough to prepare him for actually seeing Don. Charlie unconsciously reached out to place a hand on Don's leg, and nearly jumped out of his skin as his father grabbed his wrist.

"Stop!" Alan whispered loudly. "That's his injured leg."

Charlie yanked his hand away as if he'd been burned, mortified that he'd been about to inflict more pain on his brother. "God, Dad. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," his father assured him. "You didn't know."

Charlie nodded and made a point to stand right next to Don's head, away from the injured limb. He reached out and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He's going to be okay, right?" he asked his father.

"He'll be fine," Alan affirmed. "He's just got a lot of bed rest in his future."

Charlie couldn't help but grin. "He's not going to be 'fine' with that."

"Let's not even go there yet." The older man sighed as he pointed at the cot. "You can crash there. The staff is being kind enough to let us stay all day since we live so far away."

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be sleeping much." Charlie picked up Don's free hand and examined the long, graceful fingers closely. "I'm not used to him being so still. It scares me."

"He's going to be fine, Charlie. Like I said – he just needs a lot of rest." Alan tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Dad? I'll keep watch over him."

His father paused only long enough to let out another yawn before rising and moving to the cot. "Thanks, Charlie. Wake me…"

"If anything happens," the younger man finished. "I will." As Alan collapsed onto the cot in exhaustion, Charlie settled himself in the recliner, reaching over and grasping Don's hand. Unknowingly copying his father's earlier position, he laced his fingers through Don's and held their hands against his chest. "I've got you now, bro. Rest easy."

--

Colby entered the FBI office early the next morning and wasn't surprised to find Megan there, fast asleep at her desk. He knew the previous day's events had been rough on her, but he also believed that she wasn't to blame for anything that happened. Allowing someone else to enter the store had definitely been against procedure, but there were also extenuating circumstances. Colby slipped into the break room and made a cup of coffee just the way Megan liked it, and returned to her desk. He sat the gift next to her head and chuckled as her nose twitched at the pleasant aroma. She finally dragged her eyes open, a small smile crossing her face at the coffee cup in front of her. "Thanks, Granger," she said as she sat up and sipped the hot beverage.

"So, you spent the night here?"

"Didn't plan to, but yeah – I guess I did."

"You know that no one blames you, right? I mean, you've got three witnesses who are all on your side."

"Make that four," David said as he joined his fellow agents.

"Four?" Megan queried.

"The camera – you turned it on before you left."

"No I didn't," she told him. "I didn't get a chance to."

"Really?" David asked in surprise. "Well, someone did. We've got video and audio of Morrison's call to you. Clear evidence that he knew what he was doing was tantamount to suicide, but that he chose to do it anyway."

"Review board won't care," Megan sighed. "I did make a bad judgment call – we all know that. I went against procedure and two men lost their lives."

"But," Colby quickly argued. "If you hadn't, two men – Alan and Don – would have lost their lives, and who knows how many others. You made the best call you could under tough circumstances. The review board will have to see that."

"You've been in front of them before," Megan said to Colby. "When that guy shot up the office. Did you find them to be supportive of your situation?"

"Good point," Colby muttered.

"Don..." David trailed off as he thought of his injured boss. "When he gets back, he'll make sure nothing bad happens to you."

"I know," the female agent agreed. "It's the 'before he gets back' part that I'm worried about."

--

"No!"

The anguished cry jolted Charlie awake and he instantly turned his attention to the man on the bed, only to find that Don was still sleeping peacefully.

"Please," a low, pleading voice came from across the room. "Stop hurting him."

Charlie jumped to his feet and darted across the room to his father's side. "Dad! Dad, wake up – you're dreaming." Charlie shook the older man's shoulder until his eyes sprang open.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, Dad. It's me." The professor leaned back, giving his father space to get oriented. "Bad dream?"

Alan's face drained of color and he lunged for the garbage can, barely making it in time to lose his lunch. He became aware of Charlie's hand lightly rubbing up and down on his back as his youngest son whispered in his ear.

"I'm okay now, Charlie," he said as he moved back to the cot. "Thanks."

"What were you dreaming?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Alan said evasively.

"Talking is the only way you're going to learn to deal with it," Charlie insisted. His father remained silent, so he pushed. "He hurt Don in front of you, didn't he?"

Alan squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, attempting to fight down the sickness. "Please, stop."

"Talk to me, Dad."

The older man sighed and sagged against the wall next to the cot. "Yes, he hurt your brother in front of me. Are you happy now?"

"Obviously that's not what I meant. Just talk to me."

Alan eyed Charlie and took a deep breath. "He shot him. Don was getting his wallet to pay the cashier and the man just pulled out a gun and shot him. Made him lie there, bleeding on the floor, until he figured out where he wanted us. I... I had to help your brother walk to the back of the store. I could tell I was supporting almost all of his weight – that's how badly he was hurt." Alan paused as tears welled.

Charlie placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Go on," he quietly urged.

"He locked us in a room and wouldn't let me get anything to help Don. We were in the middle of a convenience store with almost everything I needed to be able to comfort your brother, and Chris wouldn't let me."

"You called him by his first name?" Charlie asked skeptically.

"Long story," Alan told him. "Anyway, he came in a couple of times and got really angry. That's when he... he would..." Alan buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "He would grind his heel in your brother's wound. The sound your brother made..." Alan's voice cracked as he trailed off.

Charlie fought back a wave of white hot anger as he imagined a pain so intense that it would cause his stoic brother to cry out. It was a good thing the bomber had died, because Charlie felt that for the first time in his life he might actually be capable of taking another person's life. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Looking back at his father he casually suggested, "You might need to find someone to talk to about this."

"I appreciate the concern Charlie, but I'll be fine. It's just still fresh on my mind."

"If it's still haunting you in a few weeks-"

"Then I will take your advice," Alan smiled.

They both looked up at the bed as Don shifted his good leg. His eyes opened and he silently stared at the ceiling in confusion. Charlie rushed to his side and Alan remained on the cot, sensing his youngest son wanted some alone time with his big brother.

"Don?" Charlie called eagerly.

The injured man's eyes slowly shifted to the side until he was looking at his brother. "Hey, Buddy." His voice was raw and scratchy, but it was music to Charlie's ears.

"How're you feeling?"

"Good drugs." Don gave him a loopy grin and Charlie burst out laughing.

"Glad to hear it, bro." He placed a hand on Don's forearm and squeezed. "By the way, no more fishing trips when I go out of town, got it?" At Don's puzzled look, Charlie grinned. "Apparently I'm your good luck charm. Dad told me how you two didn't catch a single fish, and then this happens? No sir – I'm going on every trip you take from now on."

"Thought you didn't believe in luck," Don teased.

"You know what they say – you don't know what you've got till it's gone." Charlie leaned forward and held Don's gaze. "And I have no intention of finding out how that applies to my big brother."

Don felt his brother's words enveloping him like a warm, loving embrace. He had a sudden urge to express that sentiment, and decided he could blame it on the drugs later on if Charlie started teasing him. "Love you, Buddy."

"Back atcha, bro."

TBC