"Don?" He wearily dragged his eyes open at the mention of his name, his face breaking into a tired smile as he saw Charlie standing next to his bedside. "...lie," he tried to call to him but found his throat was still too sore.

"Hold on a second," Charlie told him as he moved to fidget with something on the bedside table, just out of Don's view. He held up a spoon in front of Don and pressed it to his lips. "Ice chips?"

Don parted his lips in response and enjoyed the soothing coolness as it trickled down his throat. Charlie reloaded the spoon and offered Don another helping which he gratefully sucked on.

"More?" Charlie asked.

Don shook his head and licked his lips. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Anytime, bro." Charlie pulled up a chair and took a seat but leaned forward enough to keep a hand on Don's uninjured forearm. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Tired," Don admitted. His brow creased as he took a mental inventory of his body.

"Are you in pain?" Charlie's voice was suddenly filled with concern.

"No. Don't feel much of anything." He licked his lips as he realized they were suddenly dry again and immediately felt the spoon pressing against his lips. You'd make a great nurse, Charlie, Don thought to himself. He accepted the offering and smiled. "Where's Dad?"

"He's stepped out for a moment to call Megan and let her know that you're out of surgery."

"That's good." Don frowned as the last word his brother had spoken finally registered in his tired mind. "Surgery? What for?"

"You don't remember?" Charlie asked in surprise. Don shook his head, wincing as he put pressure on the left side of his head. Charlie placed his hand on Don's cheek. "Easy, Don. You've got a nasty gash on your head."

"No kidding." Don fixed Charlie with an imploring stare. "What happened to me?"

Charlie removed his hand from his brother's cheek and laid it once again on his arm. "What do you remember?"

"Um," Don clenched his eyes shut and tried to sort through the jumble of images in his head. "There was an... accident? Someone hit me?"

"Close. There was an explosion. Something hit you – the lab room doors."

"Then... I remember being cold and wet. Were we outside?"

"No," Charlie told him. "We-"

"Donny!" Alan Eppes joyously cried as he entered the room. "You're awake!"

"Hey, Dad," Don smiled. He bit back a protest as Alan placed a hand on his forehead, suspecting his father needed the contact for reassurance.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," Don said, realizing after the fact that he hadn't given the best of answers.

"Oh 'fine'?" Alan asked dubiously. "Donny, be honest."

"He's not in any pain, Dad." Don was grateful to hear Charlie chime in. "I already asked him."

Alan cast a glance at his younger son before carefully perching on Don's bedside. "You had us worried, you know." He brushed his hand through Don's short, dark hair, smiling as Don closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh of contentment. "You should sleep," he whispered softly.

"But Charlie was-" Don began sleepily.

"Charlie and I will still be here after you've gotten some more rest," Alan informed him. "We'll talk then, I promise."

Don wanted to finish his conversation – to find out what had happened – but he knew his father would have none of it. Besides, that gentle hand running through his hair was so relaxing. He found himself concentrating on the soothing sensation as he slowly drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

--

Charlie sat and watched as his father talked to his brother. He kept his hand on Don's forearm as his brother relaxed at their father's words and touch. Charlie kept statue-still, afraid that any movement on his part might break the spell between father and son. He closed his eyes and listened to his father's voice, reliving the relief he'd felt when they had first seen Don.

After a lecture about the importance of letting Don rest and a firm recitation of visiting hours, Anna let the two Eppes men into Don's room. She did a quick check of Don's vitals, notated his chart, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Alan approached Don's left side – the injured one – and Charlie stood on Don's right. They both studied him with concerned, yet somewhat relieved expressions. Charlie couldn't ever remember Don looking quite so pale or haggard, even during the ride in the ambulance. He knew the bleeding had been repaired and that his brother had probably been given a transfusion, and it terrified him to think of what Don must have looked like on his way to surgery. That was an image he was happy not to add to the others that already lurked in his mind. He noticed that Don wasn't receiving any extra oxygen and took that as a good sign. His eyes drifted downward to Don's chest where he saw his brother's dislocated left arm bound tightly against his body. He knew it had to hurt – Don had dislocated it before when he was playing baseball in high school and his scream of pain was something that Charlie had never forgotten.

Charlie's gaze drifted lower but the covers were pulled up so that they just covered Don's abdomen. Even with the sheet and gown blocking his view, he knew good and well what his brother looked like down there, and really didn't care to see the angry bruising again. He trailed his gaze back up to Don's face and then on to study the monitor above the bed, pleased to see his brother's heart beating at a consistent, regular rhythm. Maybe, just maybe, Charlie could get rid of the feelings of anxiety and despair that had plagued him since the accident what – mere hours ago?

Charlie glanced up and saw an expression of sorrow on his father's face. "He's going to be fine, Dad."

Alan looked up and nodded, not quite making eye contact with his youngest son. "Of course he is," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's just that... well..." Alan trailed off as he lightly traced the edge on the bandage on Don's head. He cleared his throat before suddenly turning to leave. "I need to call Megan and give her an update. I'll be right back."

"He's asleep," Alan's soft words drew Charlie back to the present.

"Good."

"Just what were you doing carrying on such an intense conversation with him?" The question was whispered but there was stern quality to it that revealed Alan's irritation.

"He was asking," Charlie quietly defended himself. "You know how he is about needing to be in control. Part of that includes discovering every last bit of information he can get his hands on."

"I know, Charlie," Alan gently admonished. "But the nurse said he needed to rest. We can talk later."

"I know," Charlie sighed. "Although you and mom are the only two people I've ever known that could have him out like a light in no time."

Charlie saw a flicker of sadness cross his father's face before being replaced with a grin and a wink. "It's a parental thing." Alan looked lovingly at his oldest son before allowing a frustrated sigh to slip out.

"What?" Charlie quietly queried.

"He's going to be handful when he's up and about – even before then he's going to be difficult." Alan gave his youngest son a conspiratorial grin. "I may have to let you in on that parental secret." Charlie stifled a loud laugh. "But you must promise to use the knowledge for good, not evil."

He grinned mischievously at Alan. "Of course, dear father." His heart lifted as Alan quietly laughed with him, all traces of the lingering sorrow finally banished from his face. They fell back into a peaceful silence, content to listen to Don's soft breathing and the reassuring beep of the heart monitor.

TBC