--

He couldn't believe it. Not when he opened his eyes and found himself lying on stiff hospital sheets and not even when he saw his father adjust his reading glasses and look up from his crossword puzzle.

"You collapsed."

"No way." He knew he was tired, but there was no way he'd fainted. He'd never fainted in his entire life, and he'd been through large amounts of stress filled and sleepless nights before. "I've never fainted in my entire life," he said out loud.

"There's a first time for anything." Alan set his newspaper aside. "You took ten years off my life, you know. First Charlie and then-"

Charlie. The rest of Alan's statement washed away. "Where's Charlie?" Don lifted his head off the pillow and was surprised when a bout of dizziness hit.

Alan reached out and pushed him back down on the bed. "Charlie's in the next bed, sleeping. Something you should have been doing more of, apparently."

Don blinked. "I couldn't," he admitted. He lifted his hand towards his face, but frowned when he discovered an IV imbedded in it.

"Your blood sugar was low," Alan explained. "Megan said you'd been drinking lots of coffee, but she couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten anything."

"Megan was here?"

"A couple of hours ago, getting a statement from Charlie."

"A couple of hours...?" He tried to push past the lingering cobwebs in his brain. "Just how long was I out?"

"Well, it's almost six, so about eight hours."

"Eight hours?" Don repeated. Again, he was dumbfounded. Laine was still out there and he's spent too much time lying horizontal. He started to shove the blanket away. "I still have a case to solve."

Once more, Alan stopped him.

"No."

Though it was only one word, there was no denying the forceful tone behind it. His father meant business and Don couldn't ignore the worried look in his eyes. Charlie had given them both one hell of a scare and Don was sure when he collapsed it hadn't made it at all easier for Alan.

"You have an office full of people that are perfectly capable of solving this case," Alan continued. "Right now, you need to stay put."

Don regarded him for a long moment. "Okay," he finally said softly, letting his body relax and the weariness settle. "But, Dad, Charlie...what did he tell Megan?"

"I don't know," Alan admitted. "He made me leave. You and your brother both share a powerful need to hide things from me."

"This again? Dad..." Don turned his head to glance over at the other bed in the room. In typical Charlie fashion, all he could see was a mess of curls sticking out of the blanket. It was something Charlie had always done, even when they were kids. He'd always burrowed into the sheets, leaving only the very top of his head visible. He looked impossibly young, though Don knew that wasn't the case. Charlie was a grown man, thirty, but despite that fact that he was the first to point that out, sometimes, just sometimes, Don himself had a hard time believing it. In some areas, Charlie was light years ahead, in others light years behind.

"How's he doing?" he asked softly.

"All right, or so they say. He has a slight fever, but I've been told antibiotics will take care of it." Alan didn't sound like he believed that fact.

"So close," Don muttered. "It was..."

"I know," Alan finished. "That much I know."

Don felt his father place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just happy that both my sons are okay."

"Yeah," Don agreed, his eyes still focused on Charlie's bed. Okay was a relative term.

And until Laine was behind bars, Don wasn't inclined to believe it.

--

An update from Megan the next morning didn't make Don feel much better. He sat on the edge of his hospital bed, dressed and waiting for the doctor to sign his discharge papers. A few feet away, Charlie slept on, thanks to another heavy dose of pain medication. His fever had spiked sometime after midnight and the in and out of both nurses and doctors made Don extremely nervous. Charlie wasn't going home today.

"His apartment's cleaned out," Megan told him as he reached for his sneakers. Don had finally convinced Alan to go home, though he didn't stay home for long, appearing again far too early, but at bearing a change of clothes for Don.

"His lease was up last month and the landlord said Laine paid his last month's on time and had no plans to renew. Neighbors said he kept mostly to himself, but the few that had seen him in the past week say he was always heading out with a box in his hand."

"Any movement on his credit cards?"

"Not unless you count the fact that he canceled every single one two hours after Charlie was found. Cleaned out his bank account, too."

"Fosters hear from him?"

Megan shook her head. "Fosters hasn't talked to him in over two weeks. Mrs. Fosters hasn't seen him since he stopped by unexpectedly to check out her son's yearbook."

Don bent over to tie his laces, pausing when he was once again hit with a wave of dizziness. Despite the forced rest, he was still exhausted.

"So he's got a good lead on us," Don said, mostly to himself. "I need to think."

"No, Colby, David, and I need to think," Megan answered. "You're on medical leave."

"According to who? My dad? I'm fine," he insisted. Laine couldn't have gotten far, Don knew it, and he needed to find him.

"No, according to the doctor I talked to outside. You're suffering from fatigue and it just took you almost five minutes to tie your shoes."

"Not five minutes," he defended, staring down at the laces. "What did Charlie say?"

"Nothing that tells us where Laine is going." She was silent a moment. "I think you should talk to him."

"What happened? Dad said you took his statement."

"I did," Megan answered, "and you can read the report, but I think you should ask Charlie yourself. I need to get back to the Bureau."

"You'll keep me updated?"

She nodded. "I will. Just...talk to Charlie."