A/N: I have decided to opt out of the next challenge. Someone much more capable than myself has taken it up. This piece was supposed to be finished by now, but it seems to be taking its time wrapping up. One more chapter should do it, I believe.
Chapter 11:
Don never said a word on the way to the hospital. He drove carefully and very, very fast, lights and siren going. He didn't allow himself to be distracted by anything. Not even the little girl's sobs from the backseat. His mind fought him, however, and Don found himself consciously pushing away the thoughts that vied for attention in his brain. Distraction was what sent Charlie to the hospital in the first place. He'd be damned if he'd do it too.
The party had come to an abrupt halt at the sound of Emma's scream. The FBI agents, immediately galvanized into action, had – literally – dropped whatever they'd been doing and ran to the front of the house, hands automatically reaching for holsters. The others weren't far behind. Barrelling out of the front door, Don almost tripped over a small figure huddled on the step.
"What is it, Emma?" he asked quickly. She lifted a shaking finger and pointed, tears streaming down her face. He ran in the direction she indicated, unable yet to see what had her so upset. Maybe the dog, or…
Melvin was fine, sitting on the side of the road with his tongue hanging out. They would marvel for ages that the puppy hadn't been injured or worse.
Don skidded to a halt as he took in the scene being played out in the street. His brother – Emma's official new father – lay on his side in front of a late model sports car. The driver appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties, and he was on his knees next to Charlie, pleading with him.
"Mister? Hey, mister? Please wake up. I'm sorry. I didn't see you. Mister?" The young man looked up at the group of people heading toward him – half of them with guns drawn – and immediately came to his feet. "I… I didn't see him! Honest! I came around the corner and… he was just…" Don holstered his weapon and dropped to his knees beside his brother's still form.
"Did you call an ambulance?" Don asked woodenly as he pulled out his cell phone.
"W-what?" the boy stammered. "No… no, not yet… I just-"He stopped abruptly when Don held up his hand. Flipping open the phone, Don dialled 9-1-1 and told the operator the situation. Only when he disconnected did he lean over Charlie and call his name.
"Charlie? Hey buddy, it's me." Don checked for a pulse, relief almost overwhelming him when he found one immediately. It was erratic but strong. "C'mon, Charlie. Wake up. Wake up, Charlie." He looked up at the people gathering around him. David stood nearby, stunned, with Colby at his side. Alan was kneeling at Charlie's feet, immobile and silent, his eyes locked on Charlie's face.
"Where's Megan?" Don asked no one in particular.
Colby replied. "She took Emma into the house. Poor kid's really shaken up."
"She okay?" Don asked. "She didn't get hurt?"
David shook his head. "She was on the front steps when…" He trailed off. Nodding at the car, he added, "Saw everything, though."
Don looked down at his brother. "Megan will talk to her." He could hear sirens approaching rapidly. Looking up at the young man, he asked, "What happened?"
The guy jumped as if startled. "I was driving down the street…"
"How fast were you going?" Colby interrupted.
"Not fast! I wasn't speeding or anything!" He looked to Don. "You've gotta believe me, mister. I wasn't going fast at all!"
"How fast were you going?" Don repeated in a low, threatening tone.
"Ten… m-maybe twelve miles an hour," he stuttered. "I wasn't speeding, mister. Honest." He swallowed. "I only looked away for a second…"
In that instant, three bodies were in motion. Don to get his hands on the young driver, and David and Colby to get their hands on Don. "You looked away?" Don yelled, struggling to break free. "You looked away? What the hell were you doing? What were you thinking?"
"Easy Don, easy," David murmured. "This isn't going to help Charlie."
Alan called wearily, "Don, stop." Those two words had the desired effect. Don quit straining to get at the young man, instead shrugging off David and Colby's hands and turning back to his brother. Charlie was still unconscious and very pale.
The ambulance pulled up and two paramedics jumped out. The first one hurried to Charlie's side, while the second ran to the back of the unit. Colby ran over and offered his assistance.
Don looked at David, fury smouldering in his eyes. "I want him," he pointed at the terrified driver. "Under arrest. Yesterday." David nodded, drawing out his handcuffs. If anything, the man looked even more frightened.
"Y-you guys are… cops?" he whispered as David pulled his hands behind his back and fastened them together.
"No," David replied, steering him over to his personal vehicle. "You hit the jackpot here, man. We're FBI."
All the color drained from the young man's face. He looked up at David as he was eased into the backseat. "Feds?" he mouthed. David nodded once before shutting the door. Heading back to the scene, he watched as Don pulled his father to his feet and spoke to him privately. Alan nodded and made his way back to the house.
"What's his name?" One of the paramedics looked up at David.
"Charlie," he replied, motioning to his friend. "His name's Charlie."
Don hurried to his brother's side. The emergency crew had strapped Charlie to a spinal board. A cervical collar and head immobilizer ensured no movement would occur, possibly doing more damage. The lower half of his face was obscured by an oxygen mask.
Charlie opened his eyes and looked at his brother. He was struggling slightly, and Don tried to reassure him. "Hold on, Charlie… let them help you." The mathematician stilled immediately and one of the medics began cutting away his clothing. Charlie's exposed legs were torn and bloody – and obviously broken.
"Don?"
Don nodded reassuringly. "It's me, buddy," he soothed. "Just lie still and let them help you, okay?" He leaned closer as Charlie spoke again faintly. "Em-Emma?"
"She's fine," Don replied. "Megan's with her."
"Dog?"
Don couldn't help the note of irritation that crept into his voice. "Charlie, the damn dog is great, okay? Forget the dog." He strained to hear his brother's next words. "Emma… heartbroken." Don knew what he was talking about. "About the dog?" He could have gleefully given away that pup at the moment, but he knew it wouldn't solve a damn thing. "She's more worried about you." He watched as the medics started an IV and spoke in soothing tones when Charlie reacted. He moved when they asked him to, although not too far – he wanted to touch his brother, to let him know he was still there. He contented himself with merely rubbing Charlie's arm gently.
When they were ready to go, Don said, "We'll meet you at the hospital, okay buddy?"
"Emma…"
Don stepped back as the gurney began to move. "I'll bring Emma, don't worry," he replied. They loaded him into the ambulance and slammed the doors. Don turned quickly and headed back to the house, barely registering the fact that David had left with the driver of the car. Once inside, he rounded up his father and niece, steering them to his SUV for the trip to the hospital. Megan and Larry volunteered to stay behind and tidy up. Don knew Megan wanted to be there for Larry. He and Charlie went back a long way.
Once they arrived, Don guided Alan and Emma to a waiting area and went in search of his brother alone. He tried inquiring at the duty station, but the people there were either too busy to answer his question or they insisted he wait in line. He searched his memory for the day he himself was brought in and headed off down the most likely passageway.
Don quickly found one exam room bustling with activity. The curtains were still open and he could see the people gathered there working smoothly and efficiently to divest the person lying on the bed of his clothing. He watched numbly as a shirt drifted to the floor.
Charlie's shirt.
Don edged his way into the room, careful not to get in the way. He stood silently and watched as doctors and nurses moved back and forth, calling to one another in a language he barely understood.
"BP ninety-eight over sixty-five and falling."
"Pulse one-forty."
"Going into shock, here, people. Hang two litres."
"I want a workup done as soon as possible. We need to get this guy to the OR."
"Someone call radiology and get them set up for a scan and x-rays. Possible head trauma, definite on the broken legs. Oh, and call the OR…"
The voices faded out as Don caught a glimpse of Charlie through the forest of moving personnel. His eyes were closed, but he didn't look like he was unconscious. If he had to guess, Don would've said his brother was… listening.
"I'm right here, buddy," Don said suddenly. Charlie's features seemed to relax. One of the green-clad nurses turned on him. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded.
"He's my brother," Don replied, daring the woman to order him to leave. She apparently thought better of it and turned back to Charlie. Don watched as they prepared to move him, laying the IV bags and various pieces of equipment on the gurney. The nurse glanced at him, clearly expecting some kind of outburst. Don merely fixed her with a dark stare.
"Okay, people. He's not going to get any more stable than this. Let's move!"
Don waited until the stretcher was almost parallel before calling, "We're all here, Charlie. We'll be waiting for you when you wake up." He didn't expect a response and was surprised to hear his brother murmur, "See you…"
-x-x-x-x-x-
Don rejoined his father and Emma in the waiting room. He told Alan everything he'd heard in the ER, including the decision to operate. "Probably going to put pins in his legs," he said finally.
Alan shook his head. "That bad?"
Don nodded. "They looked that way to me, Dad."
"My God," Alan sighed. "Why today, of all days?"
"I'm sorry."
They both turned to look at the little girl sitting on a chair a few feet away. Emma had curled up into herself, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms clasped tightly around them. There were still tears on her face, but she had stopped crying long ago. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a whisper.
Don quickly moved to the chair next to hers and wrapped his arms around her small shoulders. "Emma," he said seriously. "This isn't your fault. Do you understand? You didn't do this."
Her voice hitched as she replied, "I was chasing him."
"Who, Emma?" Alan asked as he moved to sit on her other side.
"Melvin." She wiped at the tears filling her eyes again. "He said Melvin kept running away because I was chasing him."
"Who said that?" Don asked. "Charlie?"
Emma nodded. "He said Melvin thought I was playing with him." She lifted her eyes to Don's face. "He said that's why he wouldn't stop running."
"No, Emma," Don soothed. "This isn't your fault at all. It's not your fault…"
"…Or Melvin's," Alan added. Emma turned quickly and looked at him. "Melvin is only a puppy, Emma. You can't be mad at him, either."
Don said, "It's not Charlie's fault, either. He couldn't have known there was a car coming. He should've looked first, but…"
"He did!" Emma protested. "I saw him! He looked this way…" She turned her head to one side and then the other. "…And this way. I saw!"
"You saw?" Don frowned. "Emma – was the car going fast?"
She thought hard for a second. "No," she replied thoughtfully. "Nobody was in it."
"What?" Alan looked at Don, then Emma. "What d'you mean, no one was in it?"
"Honest, Grampa Alan," she replied quickly. "The man wasn't there 'til after."
Don turned her gently. "Explain it to me, Emma," he said. "What did you see?" The little girl shook her head mutely and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. "Emma, this is important. What did you see?"
"He went out in the street to get Melvin." Emma's voice was soft. "He picked him up and… And the car came around the corner…" She shook her head. "I don't want to."
Alan gathered her into his arms. "Sweetheart, we need to know what you saw. And you need to talk about it." He looked at Don. "Even if you're not ready, you need to tell someone what's bothering you."
Don knew the last part of his father's speech wasn't directed at his granddaughter, but at Don himself. He didn't want to hear it right now. "Emma, honey," he urged, "Tell me about the car – did the man get into it after?"
She shook her head. "He came up."
Don looked at her quizzically. "'He came up'?" he asked. "What do you mean, 'he came up'?"
Emma sighed. "Like this." She leaned over Alan's lap, and then suddenly straightened upright. "He came up."
Don felt sick. "You mean he was leaning down, and then he sat up?"
"Yes," Emma replied. "After."
"After what, sweetie?" Alan asked. Instead of replying, she climbed into Don's lap and slid her arms under his jacket, wrapping them tightly around his body. Don rubbed her back for a moment before tilting her chin up with one finger. "Do you mean 'after the car hit Charlie', Emma?" he asked softly.
She nodded and burrowed her head in his chest. Don looked at Alan.
"I'll go see what I can find out," Alan said, rising. "And I'll see if I can find something to drink, too." He left the room.
Don sat rocking the little girl and rubbing her back, content to stay silent. He was glad his father hadn't pushed with his statement, although he knew the subject would come up again. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed Emma's quiet whisper.
"Is he gonna die?"
Don stopped rubbing. "What?"
She lifted her head slightly. "Is he gonna die?" she repeated.
"No, no," Don said, rubbing again. "No, honey. He's not going to die. He's pretty banged up," he explained. "And he'll probably need to stay here for a while, but he's not going to die."
"Okay," she replied. Don felt her relax a bit. "I'm glad he's not gonna die."
"Me too." Don shifted into a more comfortable position. "I didn't want to lose him," he added quietly.
Emma snuggled closer. "I don't want to call him Charlie anymore," she said sleepily, then yawned.
"No?" Don craned his neck so he could look at her face. "What do you want to call him?"
"Daddy," she murmured.