"Charlie!"
He looked up to see his father running toward him. "Dad!" He stood and found himself enveloped in a powerful hug. The emotions of the past few days caught up with him and he leaned his head on Alan's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here," he whispered sadly.
"How's Don?" Alan asked as he continued to embrace his son.
"They're still checking him over." Charlie felt his father guide him to sit, and leaned into Alan as he sat in the chair next to him. "I hope they come back soon."
Alan rubbed Charlie's shoulder, happy that he had at least one of his sons in his presence. He looked at Megan. "Did you find the people responsible for this?"
She slowly shook her head. "No, but we've got agents sweeping the forest, and more agents watching their van. We'll get them when they show up."
"It won't be soon enough," he growled, returning his full attention to Charlie. "How was he in the ambulance?"
"He moved," Charlie replied. "I mean, I was talking to him and he moved – I think he was reacting to my voice. Bob – the paramedic – said that talking would help." Charlie managed a large grin. "Don knows everything that I do now, about Cognitive Emergence Theory."
"Now there's a reason to live," Alan playfully joked, trying to keep the worry from eating him alive. He continued rubbing Charlie's shoulder as the threesome waited for the doctor.
About thirty minutes later, a tall, silver-haired man emerged from behind the emergency room doors. He walked straight to the Eppes with a smile on his face. Alan and Charlie scrambled out of their chairs to meet him, while Megan hovered discreetly in the background.
"Mr. Eppes?" he spoke to Alan. Alan nodded so he turned his eyes to the younger man. "Charlie?" Another nod. "Don mumbled your name a couple of times during the course of my examination. I'm glad to put a face with the name."
"He's awake?" Charlie eagerly asked.
"Not yet. He was drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, but he was calling for you." He turned back to Alan. "I'm Doctor Mitchell. I've been examining Agent Eppes. Would you to please come to my office with me?" At their alarmed looks he quickly shook his head. "No, no – he's going to be fine. I just want to go over his condition and treatment with you." He led the relieved men to his office, while Megan remained behind, wanting to give the family some privacy.
Mitchell led them into a large, nicely furnished office and gestured for them to have a seat in two comfortable leather chairs. He sat across from them, behind a large desk covered with pictures of two young, smiling girls. "My daughters," he explained. "I'm a father, too, Mr. Eppes, so I can appreciate what you're feeling right now. I just want to start by saying that I expect your son to make a complete recovery, but it is going to take a little time." He opened a chart and flipped through the pages. "Let's start with his condition. The most critical concern was the extent to which Agent Eppes-"
"Don," Charlie corrected him.
Mitchell smiled and nodded. "Was the extent to which Don was dehydrated. He hadn't had fluids in at least thirty-six hours, if not longer. We've already started him on an IV and as soon as he's awake and lucid we'll start him on an oral rehydration treatment." At the confused looks on the two men's faces, he clarified, "Basically we'll have him drinking a Gatorade-like substance until he's ready to float away. Our patients tend to get tired of drinking so much, especially when they're as fatigued as Don is, so that's where we like for the family members to be a factor. Encourage him to keep drinking, and be stern about it if you need to."
"I can certainly do that," Alan assured him.
"I don't doubt it for a minute," Mitchell smiled warmly. "Don was also severely malnourished so we'll need to get his nutrient levels back up to where they should be. We can use feeding supplements via a nasogastric tube, but I hate to do that to any patient who is awake because it isn't a very comfortable experience. We'll start slow with some adult dietary supplements, and progress to liquids and soft foods as he starts to regain his strength. He's suffering from rather severe nausea – a by-product of the dehydration – and we've given him some medication to ease that, but I doubt he'll have much of an appetite. Again, this is where we like for the family members to get involved – encouragement and support – I can't emphasize that enough."
"Trust me, he'll have so much that he'll be begging you to put him into protective custody."
Mitchell laughed at Alan's words. He had a feeling Agent Eppes was going to be just fine. "Don also shows signs of mild hypothermia – another factor contributing to his fatigued state." He flipped to another page in the chart. "The last thing I'd like to talk to you about is the burns and abrasions on his body. He does have first degree burns on his forehead, nose, and shoulders – all areas I assume were the most exposed to the fire – in addition to the rope burns on his chest and abdomen. None of these are severe enough to cause scarring, but with all burns the most important thing is to keep them clean and sterile because infection can set in very easily. During Don's stay with us, I'm going to let the nurses handle this part of his treatment, but they will show you how to treat them when Don is released into your care. I am correct in assuming he'll be staying with one of you when he's released?"
"Yes," the two men spoke in unison.
"Good. The abrasions on his back are superficial for the most part, although there are a couple of places that were deep enough and dirty enough that a minor infection had set in. We do have him on antibiotics for that, and they seem to be working already. He may be a little feverish at times – especially at night – but it should remain a low grade fever. Mildly uncomfortable, but by no means life threatening." He flipped the chart shut and placed his elbows on top, leaning across his desk. "That covers Don's injuries and what you can expect in the way of treatment. The last and most important point I would like to make is that Don is suffering from exhaustion. That's certainly no surprise given all that he's been through, but I don't want you to be alarmed by how tired he is going to be. Lifting a hand or even rolling over in bed may very well be too much for him until he starts getting some fluids and nutrition in him. My nurses are always available, but I'd like for at least one of you to be here at all times, too."
"Not a problem," Charlie promised him.
"I didn't think it would be. Don needs to be treated as if he were glass. No straining on his part for any reason whatsoever. He needs to be waited on hand and foot. No exertion – that's very important to his recovery. The slightest overtaxing of his body could throw him into a relapse, and be a major setback to his recovery."
"We understand," Alan replied. "We're happy to do whatever we can to help him. I just want him healthy again."
"Me, too," Charlie agreed.
Doctor Mitchell sat back in his chair and clapped his hands together. "I don't think Don could ask for better familial support." He stood and gestured to the door. "I can take you to see him now, if you'd like."
--
Alan and Charlie quietly entered Don's hospital room. He was lying in the bed on his right side, his bare back to the door. They could both see the abrasions covering his back, and a couple of spots were swollen and red. They maneuvered around the foot of the bed so that they stood in front of Don.
He had three pillows piled under his head and the bed was elevated so that there was no strain on his neck as he lay on his side. There was no oxygen mask on his face, and Charlie saw the burns in even more detail than he'd been able to in the ambulance. They were bright red, but didn't look much worse than a sunburn. Of course they weren't caused by anything as innocent as a day at the lake or beach, Charlie thought to himself.
His studious gaze drifted downward to Don's chest, and he cringed at the angry red rope burn tracing back and forth across it. The thought of his brother being tied up that tightly for so long and being deprived of such basic things as food and water made his blood boil. I hope the bastards rot in hell, he thought. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he heard his father answer him.
"Even that's too good for them," Alan hissed quietly. He too, was studying Don's appearance, quickly learning what pure, unadulterated hatred felt like. He took a deep, calming breath and stepped away from the bedside long enough to grab a chair. He set it as close to the bed as he could and sat down, reaching out and letting his hands hover over Don's arms, which were bent at the elbow with his forearms extending away from his body, his fingertips hanging just over the edge of the mattress. Alan gently slid his hand between Don's and curled his fingers around his son's left hand in a gentle grip. He checked Don's forearms for burns or other injuries and finding none, brought his right hand up to gently stroke his arm.
Charlie stood mesmerized, content in watching the interaction between his father and brother. After a few moments he felt his own anger die down and he also pulled up a chair. He placed a hand on Don's hip and laid his head on the bed. He could just hear Don's even breaths and thought it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.
"I'll take the first watch, Charlie," Alan whispered to him. "You've done so much for Don. It's your turn to rest now."
Charlie sighed contentedly. Don was alive and back with his family. For the first time in days, Charlie drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
