Don slowly drifted upwards from the darkness in which he'd been residing. He realized that he was no longer in pain, but was feeling pleasantly fuzzy. He had a suspicion that the pain wasn't gone, and would quickly return if that fuzzy feeling went away. Don felt something cool and soft beneath his head – actually beneath his whole body – and his foggy mind began to drawing conclusions. I must be in a bed, and there's something dulling the pain. A hospital? He tried to drag an eye open to check his hypothesis but that seemed to be an insurmountable task. He let out a moan – actually a loud exhalation of breath – at the attempt.
"Donny?"
Dad? Was that really Dad's voice? He became aware of a light pressure on his forearm, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. He had to know for sure. He gathered up every last bit of strength and managed to crack his eyes open to mere slits. He saw a blurry blob in front of him and assumed that must be his father.
"Easy, Donny," Alan soothed and Don felt his hand being lightly squeezed. "Don't force anything, okay? Just keep resting. Charlie and I aren't going anywhere."
Charlie was here, too? Of course he would be. Don felt an overwhelming need to see his brother. He didn't have enough energy to speak, but he tried to form the syllables with his lips. He didn't think he'd come anywhere close, but somehow his father knew.
"Charlie's that weight by your knee," Alan told him. "He's worn himself out looking for you. He never gave up, Don – not once." Don heard shifting noises and his father's voice calling to his brother. "Charlie! Charlie, wake up!"
"Five more minutes," Charlie's sleepy voice protested. Don felt the bed beside his knee move as Charlie tried to sink back into sleep.
"Ahem," Alan loudly cleared his throat. "Someone wants to see you."
Don felt the whole bed shake as he heard Charlie's voice, "Don!"
He saw the blob that was his father step away from the bed to be replaced with a smaller, Charlie-shaped blob. "Don?" the blurry shape called excitedly.
Don wanted so badly to answer, but he was just too tired. He settled for trying to smile. He heard Charlie chuckle and figured he must have at least gotten a half-smile on his face. He felt fingertips on his cheek and then a feather-light stroking along his jaw.
"I was scared to death," Charlie whispered somberly. "I was afraid..." Don heard a sniff, and then a short laugh. "Well, we can talk about that later. The important thing is that you're back with us – back in our clutches so we can hover and smother you with love."
Don heard the teasing tone in his brother's voice and felt some previously unknown tension leave his body. As much as he hated to be waited on, he had a feeling he was going to have a new found appreciation for it this time. He let his eyes slide shut again, concentrating on the gentle stroking of his jaw.
"That's right, Don," Charlie whispered softly. "Go back to sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."
--
The next time he woke up the fuzzy feeling had faded and the pain was lingering in the background, threatening to return in full force. He summoned up enough energy to drag his eyes open, his lips twitching in a ghost of a smile at the Charlie-shaped blob in front of him. His vision had become a little clearer because he could now make out a head full of curls on the blurry figure. Charlie was oblivious to the fact that his brother was awake, too engrossed in perusing a large textbook to notice. Don was content to simply gaze at his brother, reveling in the fact that he was safe and back with his family. His vision was becoming clearer the longer he had his eyes open, and he trailed his gaze from Charlie's face, to the book in his lap, along the arm extended onto the bed, and finally to the hand that was resting on top of his own.
As much as Don was savoring the moment of quiet observation, the pain was beginning to creep closer. He debated whether he should try to speak or try to move his hand under Charlie's – both seemed impossible in his current weakened state – but he opted to try moving his hand. He tried to send that tiny nerve impulse from his brain down the length of his arm, becoming frustrated when he failed. Apparently the strain of the effort and the frustration combined to increase his breathing rate – which Charlie immediately noticed.
"Don!" he called in excitement, smiling and leaning closer, taking in the sight of the tired brown eyes. His smile faded as he noticed the pinched look around his brother's eyes, and the sweat along his hairline."Are you in pain?" He gently placed a hand on Don's forehead, letting it linger for a few seconds before brushing back through the dark hair. Don was too tired to answer, but Charlie saw the distress in Don's gaze. He quickly paged the nurse before turning his attention back to the man on the bed. "Oh, Don," he whispered sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. Hang on, okay?" He continued stroking Don's hair, taking comfort in the fact that the pain lines seemed to be easing up a bit.
Don wanted to tell Charlie that this wasn't his fault, but knew that would have to wait until later when he had his strength back. I wonder when that will be? he thought bitterly, hating the ever-present feeling of weakness. A wave of frustration threatened to wash over him, but he quickly suppressed it, focusing on Charlie's voice and ministrations instead.
The emotions that had flashed across Don's face were not lost on Charlie. "Shh," he whispered. "Relax. Your only job is to rest and get better. You let me and Dad do all the work – that includes worrying, alright?" He realized his gentle touch was having a calming effect on his brother, so he slid his hand down to cup Don's cheek, lightly stroking his thumb back and forth across it.
Don heard the door open behind him and saw Charlie look up and speak to the person who had entered the room. "He's in pain."
"We can't have that," a friendly female voice responded as a small hand rested on Don's shoulder. "I'm going to get you something for that, Agent Eppes." He heard rummaging noises and then the sound of plastic being torn open. Charlie stepped out of the way and a pretty, young blond woman took his place. She bent over and injected something into his IV, before gently rubbing his hand. "There," she smiled. "You should be feeling better soon." She looked up – he assumed at Charlie – and informed him, "Give it about ten minutes and call me if he's still in pain." She flashed another smile at Don before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
Don closed his eyes and waited for the drug to take effect. Charlie sat next to the bed again, and resumed his gentle caresses, smiling as Don sighed and relaxed under his touch. He was enjoying this immensely – being able to touch his brother and show his affection, without having Don groan and protest that 'real men' didn't do this. In fact, Don seemed to be relishing these moments as well. Charlie noticed Don's breathing beginning to even out. He leaned over and whispered, "Go to sleep, Don. You'll feel better when you wake up." He obeyed, letting Charlie's words carry him away to a peaceful slumber.
--
When he awoke again, the fuzzy feeling was gone, but so was the pain. Must be getting better, he thought. His opened his eyes, thrilled that it no longer seemed to be a Herculean effort. He was still positioned on his side facing the chair by his bed – now occupied by his father. Alan was slouched in it, reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, and a newspaper balanced on his knee. He was working a puzzle – probably sudoku, Don mused – with one hand while the other hand rested on top of Don's. He found himself smiling at the reassuring contact – both Alan and Charlie seemed to need to stay in constant contact with him, which suited him just fine – he needed it every bit as much as they did right now.
He drew in a breath and opened his mouth to speak. "Dad," his hoarse voice cracked, the one syllable barely audible.
"Donny!" Alan beamed, setting the paper aside and leaning forward, gently squeezing his son's hand "It's good to see you awake."
Don gave his father's hand a weak squeeze in acknowledgment as he tried to answer. "Good..." his voice cracked and gave out. So much for talking.
"Shh," Alan soothed. "Don't force it." He reached for something out of Don's line of sight, and brought his hand back, holding an insulated cup and straw in front of him. "Thirsty?" he asked, lightly pressing the straw to his son's mouth. Don parted his lips and his father gently eased the straw between them, reminding him, "Slowly, Don. And not too much – you haven't had anything in a while."
Don closed his mouth around the straw and drew in a tiny amount of liquid, his face dissolving into a frown. That's not water, he thought as he swallowed the cool liquid.
Alan winced at his son's grimace. "I'm sorry, Don, I should have warned you. It's not water, it's Equalyte – citrus flavored.
Citrus? Don wondered silently. On what planet?
His father read his expression perfectly. "Okay, the label says citrus flavored." He waited, expecting Don to drink more, disappointed when he didn't. "I know it's not the best tasting stuff, but you really need to drink more if you can."
Don reluctantly took another small swallow and then blinked at his father, who removed the straw and placed the cup back out of sight. Don licked his lips, savoring the moisture that had been missing for so long. "Thanks," he whispered.
"My pleasure," his father assured him, subtly wiping a trickle of liquid from the corner of his son's mouth. "Feel better?"
Don managed a weak nod. "Much."
"As much as I love hearing your voice again, you really should try to stay quiet. Your only job is to rest and get better." He chuckled as his father unknowingly parroted what his brother had said earlier. That reminded him...
"Charlie?" he croaked.
"He's grabbing a bite to eat. Larry and Amita came by and made him go out to lunch." Alan returned his hand to rest on top of Don's "He hasn't left the hospital in the two days that you've been here. We've both been so glad to have you back that we don't want to leave – even for a second." He reached his other hand out and brushed it through Don's hair.
"'m glad, too," Don mumbled sleepily as he closed his eyes. He drifted back to sleep, feeling safe in the knowledge that his family would be nearby for as long as he needed them.
--
"Just a little bit more."
"No, Charlie," Don's raspy voice protested. "I've had enough."
Charlie sighed in exasperation. "You're supposed to drink a quart and a half of this stuff every day. It's still over halfway full and you only have an hour left until bedtime."
"Look," Don pleaded. "Between that disgusting stuff and those nutritional drinks, I just don't have any room left. I'm full." Don rolled his eyes as Charlie fixed him with a stern look. "What? Are you trying to be Dad or something?"
"Be me?" Alan asked as he entered the hospital room. "How so?"
"Don won't finish the Equalyte," Charlie tattled.
"I see," Alan said thoughtfully as he sat next to Don's bed. "You know you need to, Don."
"I'm serious, Dad," Don weakly argued. "There's no room left. I'll be sick."
He studied his oldest son carefully. He had steadily improved over the past few days, regaining his strength bit by bit. Less than forty-eight hours ago, he had gotten enough strength back so that he could sit propped up in bed for extended times without fear of overexerting himself. The burns on his face were starting to heal, fading from bright red to a faint pink. The abrasions on his back had begun healing as well, and the infection responsible for his fever had been completely eliminated. The rope burns were the most noticeable injury on his body, but they too were slowly healing, as evidenced by Don's surreptitious scratching. Alan had admonished him the first couple of times he'd caught him, but had given up as Don went to unbelievable means to attempt to hide the scratching.
He had only one major concern remaining and that was the fact that Don had yet to truly start gaining weight. He was still many pounds lighter than he had been before his capture, and Alan couldn't get the image of Don wasting away out of his head. He knew Don didn't have much of an appetite and knew that the rehydration solutions tasted horrendous – having tried one on a dare to convince Don to finish his first one. Alan was at a loss for what to say to get Don to understand the importance of following the treatment guidelines. He sighed and looked at Charlie. "Can you give us a moment, please?"
Charlie looked somewhat wounded, but nodded and left the room. Alan turned to Don, who lowered his head to avoid his father's eyes. "Don," Alan began softly. He took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "Honestly, I don't know what to say to you." Don lifted his gaze from his lap to Alan's face. "I – we – were so worried about you for the longest time. And now we have you back, and you're well on your way to recovery, but I still find myself worrying about you."
"I'm sorry, Dad." Don hands fidgeted in his lap. "All that liquid junk makes me feel sick. And those liquid diet supplements are horrible. I try to drink them all – I really do – but my stomach gets full so quickly, and I know it'll come back up if I drink any more."
Alan reached out and rested a hand on Don's knee. "I know, Don. It kills me to see you in any form of discomfort, but this is absolutely necessary for you to get back to your old self. I know you want to get out of here and come home to Charlie's, and I know you're dying to get back to work. You understand that those things can't happen until you get past this last obstacle, right?"
Don studied his hands as he mulled over his father's words. He knew Alan was right, but he couldn't seem to make his body listen. Every time he saw or smelled one of those supplements, his stomach churned, and he had to choke back a gag. But it wasn't fair to let his family suffer any more after everything they'd been through, and he did want to get out of the hospital and back to work. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked up into his father's stare. "I'll try," he whispered, holding out his hand for the bottle of Equalyte.
Alan handed it to him and soothingly rubbed Don's free hand as he watched him finish the contents. Don frowned as he handed the empty bottle to his father. "Thank you," Alan said. He smiled at Don. "Maybe we can see about adding some soup to your diet tomorrow. Might be a nice change of pace."
"That would be nice," Don agreed. He hesitated. "I'm sorry that I'm being so difficult. I just..." He flapped a hand in the air as he searched for the right word.
"Donny, listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for. Your brother and I just want you to get better. And if that means we have to push, then we'll push." His heart swelled as Don chuckled at his words.
"As hard as you need to?"
Alan nodded, his expression one of fatherly love. "As hard as we need to."
