Chapter Thirteen: The Evidence of Things Not Seen

Don remembered the ambulance ride.

His father.

His own fear…for himself…..for Charlie.

Then things got a little sketchy.

He recalled the dull cylindrical interior of the CT machine. His IV drip had been burning his arm from whatever they had injected him with and the incessant thumping from the machine was sending matching pulses of pain across his temples. He had zoned out again and next thing he knew the thumping had ceased and the enclosed tube had been replaced with a high ceiling covered in off-white tiles. They must have given him something for pain, because the pounding agony in his head had been replaced with a dull throb.

Megan had spoken to him briefly and tried to reassure him that they would find Charlie. But the morphine made him brutally honest and with slurred speech, he had chastised her for patronizing him. She left to assist David and in a moment of overwhelming helplessness, he had fazed out again. When he opened his eyes to see his father pacing the floor, Don knew Alan hadn't heard from the team in a while. The digital clock on the television read 7:08. Somewhere in the core of his soul, an overwhelming fear surged over him, and he felt his heart racing. He attributed it to the pain medication, but he swore he could hear Charlie's frightened voice somewhere in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes in an attempt to make out the words. But, once again, thanks to the sedative effect of the drug in his system, he lost his hold on consciousness.

"He's really ok, right?"

At first Don thought he was dreaming, or maybe it was an auditory hallucination.

"Yeah. He's really ok. He's a little high on the morphine, but that should wear off soon. The doctor said he could go home once his blood pressure returned to normal."

"He really said 'tangential'?"

Megan's laughter pulled Don the rest of the way out of his artificial slumber and he listened in silence.

"I couldn't believe it either. I could have kicked him."

The other voice had reduced it's volume to a whisper.

"Doctors are idiots."

"Don't you have a doctorate?"

"Three, actually. But I'm not an idiot. I represent a very small percentage of PhD's. We're a rare breed."

Megan laughed again.

"I'd better get back to the office. Be careful though, unlike most people, morphine doesn't do much for his personality."

He could hear shuffling as Megan stood. Then her voice turned serious.

"I need to get your statement typed and filed. But if you still need to talk about………what happened, you know where to find me."

"I think I'm ok. But thank you. For everything."

"Anytime, Charlie."

Charlie. In the moment of sudden realization, Don wanted to stand on the bed and jump for joy. But his body didn't cooperate and all he could mange was gingerly lifting himself up on his elbows. His head felt like it weighed a ton. The figure in the chair at the end of the bed turned his head away from the door and their eye's locked.

Again, a thousand words were exchanged in a single moment. Don spotted the cuts and bruises on his brother's face, neck and arms. Bandages were visible on both his hands and he was wearing a pair of hospital scrubs. A hospital issue I.D. bracelet was visible around his wrist.

Don cleared his throat and hoped his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt.

"Hey, Buddy. You're ok?"

"Me? Yeah…I…I'm fine, Don."

Charlie eyed the bandage wrapped around his brother's head like a turban.

"You're ok?"

Don gave a subtle nod and tried to smile.

"Just barely."

Silence lingered in the room as both brothers tried to sort out what they wanted to say to the other without actually saying it.

Somehow he could say it with his eyes, and he never could quite find the words. Don concentrated hard on reeling in his emotions, then broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Rough morning, huh?"

Despite his efforts to contain it, Charlie felt his eyes welling up with unshed tears. He managed a shaky laugh.

"I'll tell you about it….if you've got a minute."

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

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Alan stood outside the door and listened to his grown children as once again, they managed to sidestep embracing the affection they had for each other.

He had tried. Margaret had tried. But they never could convince Don that just as it was ok to cry when you were sad, it was ok to shed tears when you were happy. And Charlie…..He never had a problem shedding tears...he just locked himself in his room to do it. He fought against his emotions because didn't want to make his brother uncomfortable……and he tried desperately not to appear vulnerable in front of Don. How had they managed to teach both of their children that emotion was a weakness to be avoided even under the most incredible circumstances?

As Charlie described his ordeal in detail to his brother, Alan felt his own knees go weak. The mental picture of his youngest son with a gun held to his head was almost more than he could bear. The one holding that gun had had every intention of pulling the trigger, and the thoughts of the alternate outcome almost made Alan physically ill. He sagged against the door frame and placed his hands over his mouth.

He had always thought any danger to Charlie would be facilitated by his association with the FBI, not by a chance meeting on the metro.

Charlie's one hour encounter with those kids on the subway had almost cost him both of his sons.

Feeling overwhelmed by the dangers that had become so commonplace in the world around them, he felt his faithfalter.

Fear ends where faith begins. He had heard someone say that once. Why did he feel like the fear would be never-ending?

The only prayer he could voice was a quite 'thank you'….he hoped that would be enough.

Authors Notes: I think the next Chapter is the final one. Again, thank you so much for all of your comments. They really mean a lot to me. You folks are really great! Thanks!

Chapter Fourteen: Let's make a deal