A/N: A short interlude until I can submit the next chapter. Thank you to all who have stayed with me.

Chapter 13:

Present

There was a dull noise. A droning sound. If he concentrated, it almost sounded like Charlie.

Too hard.

He allowed himself to drift back into the warm darkness.

-x-

The droning sound again – what the hell was it? Like an annoying fly, caught indoors.

A fly. Brush it away.

-x-

Charlie saw his hand twitch. Rushing to the side of the bed, he said eagerly, "Don?" Alan moved in behind him while the resident stood opposite, checking his IV. Resting his hand on Charlie's shoulder, he said, "Easy, Charlie. Chances are he can't hear us." They both stood silently, waiting for another sign Don was returning to consciousness.

A few moments later, Don shifted his head slightly. Charlie leaned in closer. "Don?" he called. "It's Charlie. Wake up, Don."

-x-

More droning. Closer now. He concentrated on the noise, hoping to pinpoint where the fly was. Listening hard.

-x-

Charlie looked at the resident with concern. "Why is he frowning? Is he in pain?"

She shook her head. "The pain medications we're giving him should have gotten rid of it. I'm not sure why." She took his vitals and wrote them on her clipboard. "Everything looks okay."

"Maybe he's dreaming, Charlie," Alan put in. Charlie glanced at his father and then back at Don.

"Doesn't look like a good dream," he said.

-x-

Not a fly. Using all of his strength, he focused on the sound, forcing his brain to sort through the buzzing. Slowly, a voice made it through the fog: "…A good dream." Charlie. Who's having a good dream, Charlie? he wanted to ask. He pushed the thought away and listened.

-x-

"We should go and let him rest," Alan said, pulling gently at Charlie's shoulder. Naturally the younger man resisted. He always was stubborn.

"Not until he answers me."

The resident looked at him sadly. "Professor Eppes," she said. "Your brother is heavily sedated. It's unlikely that he'll be conscious enough for anything in the next twenty-four hours."

Charlie shook his dark curls, his eyes never leaving Don's face. "You don't know my brother."

-x-

So tired. He wanted to open his eyes, to let Charlie know he was listening. He felt like he was underwater with weights on. He let go of the sound, focusing instead on making himself speak. It took a lot of effort.

-x-

Charlie had just opened his mouth to add to his last comment when he heard Don mumble. "…Lee."

Alan and his youngest son exchanged quizzical looks. Charlie leaned closer, sparing the resident a triumphant glance. "Don? What did you say?" The silence in the room was almost deafening.

Don's lips barely moved. This time, his voice was the faintest whisper, causing Charlie to turn his head so he could better hear what Don was saying.

"Charlie."

Charlie looked at his father, excitement in his eyes. Quickly turning back, he said, "I'm here Don. Dad's here too." He waited, holding his breath.

"…Sorry." It came out as not much more than a hiss of air, but Charlie heard. Drawing back his head, he looked at his brother in astonishment.

"What is it?" Alan asked. "What did he say?"

Charlie shook his head, confused. "He said… He's sorry?"

Gently pulling on Charlie's shoulders, Alan steered him away from the bed and moved in closer. Leaning down, he took Don's hand in his own and patted it gently. "Don?" he began. "Donny? It's Dad. Can you hear me?" He took the slight movement in his hand as assent. "Don, there's no reason for you to be sorry, okay?" He waited for a response. When none seemed forthcoming, he tried again. "You did good Don. Don't worry, alright?"

"Mr. Eppes." The resident's soft voice broke in on Alan's concentration. She addressed Charlie as well. "Professor Eppes – you both really must let Don rest now. It's very important."

Charlie and Alan both gazed at her blankly. Charlie came to his senses first. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked.

She glanced at Don for a moment. "It's really a matter of time." Looking up into the concerned faces of Don's family, she adopted a soothing tone. "Most of the time, simply allowing the patient to heal does the job."

"But?" Alan asked.

"But." She sighed. "Sometimes it doesn't. Then we resort to surgery."

Charlie shook his head as though clearing it. "So he could still wind up in the operating room?" he asked. "If he does need surgery, doesn't waiting increase the risk?"

She shrugged. "Possibly. But we'd rather not do it at all if he can heal on his own."

Alan reached down and softly ran his hand over Don's hair. "Did you hear that, Donny? You've got to get some rest so you can get better." He gently laid his son's hand on the bed, careful not to touch any other part of his body. "We'll be back, Don. You rest now, okay?" He waited a moment and then added, "I'm proud of you, Don. We both are." He looked at Charlie for affirmation.

Charlie studied his brother's face. It didn't look so tense anymore. "Yeah, Don," he chimed in. "I figured out what you were up to. I'm proud of you too, big brother."

Together they turned and left the room.

As the voices faded, so did Don's level of consciousness. Warm and reassured, he stopped fighting the haze in his mind and relaxed into sleep.