"How's that?"
"Better."
"Good. I'll leave you to it."
The nurse patted the blanket and picked up her syringe before leaving the room.
Finally decent pain relief. Despite this Don was a little apprehensive. At least the pain kept his mind off the predicament he was in.
His hand was no longer handcuffed to the bed. Stupid protocol. They were doing everything to the extreme out of fear some lawyer would accuse them of giving him special treatment. Huh! It had caused him a lot of discomfort and he was glad it had been replaced by the 24 hour guard that now lurked outside his doors.
Think Eppes think. Don pushed through to the recesses of his brain, trying desperately to seek out information. The doctor told him it may not come back. They gave him some pretty serious drugs for the operation and with the cocktail already in his system there was no way of knowing if he had actually been lucid when whatever happened happened.
Parts of the case had filtered back to him though. The stakeout at the school when they were watching Anita Peckham's movements. A kidnapping? Ridley had taken and held Anita. Right? They'd spent hours negotiating with him, trying to get Anita out. Her mother. He remembered she was found too late, the negotiations had gone on too long. She was found in a janitors cupboard. It had looked like she had gone in there to shoot up but later Ridley confessed to killing her. Mrs Peckham was hysterical. He remembered he'd felt so sorry for her. If they'd just burst in earlier, they may have saved her life, but they assumed Anita was being held by Ridley. Mrs Peckham wouldn't let us. There hadn't been any reason to not trust her. Not till now. Had he used Charlie's math? He couldn't remember what Charlie had done for the case. Still that wasn't unusual, he rarely understood how Charlie worked out what he did do, the analogies were the only link between Don's world and Charlie's world.
Thinking on all of this now it seemed so obvious that Sarah Peckham was hiding something. Why hadn't I picked this up? He couldn't remember what he had been thinking on the case. Why is that? Did I really know? Why didn't he see this? Darkness then clouded Don's eyes, mirroring his thoughts. Was it because he had been involved? Had he somehow cracked? If I don't remember is it because I am hiding something? Don just couldn't be sure of his innocence and this made him feel sick to his stomach. The pain was no longer dulled.
"Ah, you're awake," Alan ventured in to the room trying to be upbeat.
"Hey Dad. Charlie here?" Don's voice was faint and contained another emotion. Alan couldn't put his finger on it at first then realised. It was sadness.
"No," without looking in Don's eyes Alan continued, "you sound tired. You in pain?"
"They just upped my painkillers that's all. Good for pain, bad for talking."
Alan nodded and smiled. He noticed the handcuffs were gone.
"Dad."
"Yes."
"You don't have to come so often. I'll be fine, you've got things to do." I need my space right now.
Alan was mortified. Don was not well, he was beaten, physically and mentally. At the best of times Don needed his own space but this, this was a hospital for pity's sake. He was sick. Really sick. And really sick people in hospitals get visitors, for the visitors sake mainly. Don knew this. He even understood that Charlie couldn't. Charlie didn't want to see people like this, his heart was too big, it destroyed him too much to face it when it was his mother was dying. Don knew this was a time he simply had to put up with company.
"And I don't have to care about my son. But I do. So I'll visit and you'll be grateful."
"Wish you were more like Charlie." Another stab to Alan's heart he didn't show.
"Oh yeah. Well funny you should say that, I've learnt a few things from Charlie lately. There's an interesting mathematical theory about why you can only fold a piece of paper so many times. Or this thing where they calculate the amount of drugs you need to make someone better, not sick, based on a body weight ratio."
"Alright alright. I take it back. Stop. You're fine just the way you are. But you can't quote me on that because I'm drugged and I don't know what I'm saying."
Alan's face turned dark. "What about what you're feeling?"
"Ah Dad."
"I'm serious"
"Fine, you tell me how you really feel about your son being stabbed."
"Angry. Angry at you for allowing this to happen. Worried. Worried that you don't know how it happened. And helpless. Utterly helpless."
"Then you already know how I feel. I don't need to say it."
As soon as Don spoke this Alan's eyes glazed over. He looked through Don as he searched his thoughts. Now I feel pain. Alan didn't show this pain to his son, he needed to be strong. Don didn't know what it was like to feel helpless for their child, to feel so scared, even when the danger of dying was lifted, the fear had remained this time. Don didn't know how Alan really felt at all.
ooOoo
Sarah Peckham had proved to be tougher than Megan suspected. She would not budge from her allegations. Megan had let her go home overnight but insisted she come back for more questioning in the morning. Along with Jack Summers.
Colby and David were going to interrogate Jack. Everyone had slept better the past night and they felt hopeful they could crack something today.
"I don't get it. Knowing Don's innocent, she's lying, so why would she?" Colby directed the question towards Megan.
"A mother lying about her child's killer? To protect someone. My angle? To protect Jack Summers. But why is a completely different question. He has something over her, maybe she was getting more than just a small cut of the drug money."
"Her place doesn't look like she was," David interjected.
"Yeah but she may be so scared of being caught she doesn't want to spend it," Megan explained.
"Kind of defeats the purpose then doesn't it," Colby noted.
"Yeah well, if the life of a crim was so easy we'd all be doing it right? There's easier ways to earn money." Megan picked up a folder and began to pull her jacket on.
David raised an eyebrow and looked at Colby. "Yeah like working for the FBI."
"If Jack is the mastermind behind the drugs, he's got the most to lose. I'll do Sarah again, she's vulnerable. I think she's the weak link." With that comment Megan headed out to the interrogation room.
Colby and David looked at each other. "You wanna be bad cop for a change?" Colby quipped.
David smiled and rose from his seat. "I always thought I was."
"What does that mean?"
"People have been talking Granger. The words 'push' and 'over' have been mentioned."
Colby was rooted to the spot. It was a joke right?
ooOoo
Charlie sheepishly walked past the guards. He hated them, well not really them, just the point of them. As he opened Don's door he noticed the noise roused the patient.
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's OK. Wasn't sleeping. Just drowsy."
"Good drugs huh."
Don grimaced at the word. He'd had enough drugs to last him a lifetime.
"Good to see you Chuck."
"Yeah." Charlie sat himself down in a chair too exhausted to be annoyed at the insult.
"Wanna swap?" Don gestured to his bed. "You look like you need it more than me at the moment, surely."
Charlie took in Don's form, he looked incredibly pale and ill still. He shook his head. "Not quite."
"You've been in the garage all night."
Charlie began to get defensive. He wasn't like that anymore. He'd grown. He was better able to cope with these things now. Why was he still tainted with that brush?
Don sensed his annoyance. "You've got chalk all through your hair."
"Oh." Charlie felt bad for his thoughts now, and he had actually been in the garage all night, just working on his own stuff, relaxation. "I finished your stuff last night. Cognitive emergence theory. Just fun, I needed a break."
"Sleep Charlie. A beer. Heck even a movie! They're breaks. We'll talk about this when I get out. Clue you in on a few things. How us mere mortals relax eh."
This didn't go unnoticed by Charlie. Don must be feeling better, he thought he was getting out. And he'd be free to talk.
"Charlie you don't have to be here. It's OK. It's really boring. Besides it makes me feel uncomfortable. People always hovering over me."
Charlie was hurt by this. He wanted to be there, he was like his dad in that respect. Of course he'd done everything he could for Don, he'd worked hard. I guess I'm like Don as well. He wouldn't have been able to rest till he had worked this out and neither did Charlie. Of course he hadn't really worked it out, merely given the FBI the tools they need to work it out. But it was the best he could do and he trusted the others to use it wisely. Right now he wanted to be here with Don, show his support, see for himself how quickly he was getting better, but Don was Don. And knowing Don…
"So you don't want to know about the case then. Cool, I'll just be off."
A sharp pain clawed at Don's belly as he tried to wave Charlie back to the chair. Charlie grinned and sat back down but suddenly became concerned when he saw Don's face screwed in pain.
"Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I know you better than that. Knew you wouldn't leave. Should have played along. Ouch." Don had spoken this through broken breaths while he patted down the bandage under the blankets with his eyes closed.
"You need a nurse?"
"No I need info. Spill buddy!"