When Don woke again he was greeted by two rather angry voices arguing back and forth. He decided to keep his eyes closed and pretend to be asleep until he figured out what exactly was going on.

"Visiting hours are over, Mr. Eppes," a woman's voice firmly stated.

"It's Professor Eppes," Don heard Charlie respond. "And I don't care about visiting hours. I promised my brother that I would be here when he woke up."

"Professor Eppes," the woman replied in frustration. "We have visiting hours in place for a reason. Our patients need to get plenty of rest so that they can recover, and having people in here talking and visiting doesn't help with that."

"He has been sleeping – all afternoon. He was only awake for about ten minutes and that was not too long after my father and I came to see him. He's been sleeping ever since. What harm could it possibly do for me to quietly sit here a little while longer until he wakes up?"

Don couldn't help but grin at his brother's logic. Truth be told, he was extremely relieved that Charlie was still here. He'd woken up alone in a hospital room before back when he worked in Albuquerque and it had been one of the loneliest moments of his life. He decided to voice his opinion about Charlie's presence.

"Hospital policy is very strict-"

"Hey," Don croaked as he opened his eyes. His grin widened at the 'I told you so' look that his brother flashed the nurse. "Good to see you, Charlie."

Charlie eyed the nurse who reluctantly growled, "Ten more minutes, but not a second more." She exited the room in a semi-huff and a triumphant Charlie approached Don's bedside.

"Tough nurse," Charlie snorted as he took a seat next to Don's bed.

"Hope she's not in charge of sponge baths."

Charlie laughed loudly at his brother's joke. "Wouldn't that be a treat?" He saw Don licking his lips. "You thirsty?" Don nodded and watched as Charlie poured him a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. He stuck a straw in it, bending it at a sharp angle before holding it up to Don's mouth. "Go slow, okay?"

Don took his advice, sipping small amounts and savoring the cool, crisp liquid. When he was satisfied, he raised his right arm to signal that he was through, wincing as the movement tugged on his IV. He glanced around and noticed his father's absence. "Dad?"

"He went home," Charlie informed him. "I think he wanted to get a head start on rounding up some things to keep you entertained while you're here."

"Great," Don groaned. "How long will that be?"

Charlie let out a small chuckle before growing serious. "Don, you've just had major surgery. You're stuck here for a while." Don's face fell and Charlie sympathetically patted his arm. "Is there anything special you want? I'd be happy to bring it to you."

"I want to get out of here," Don sighed in frustration. He forced a smile on his face as he looked at Charlie and changed the subject. "How about you finish telling me what happened?"

Charlie glanced at his watch and frowned. "I don't have enough time before that delightful nurse comes to kick me out." He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the miserable look that appeared on Don's face. "Tell you what, I'll be back as soon as visiting hours start tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about it then."

That wasn't the answer that Don wanted, but he knew that Charlie was trying to cheer him up. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Anytime." Charlie gripped Don's good hand in his and lightly squeezed it, careful to avoid the IV. "Good night," he whispered as he released Don's hand. He was about to start toward the door when he suddenly paused and turned around. "Don, I..."

"What?" Don asked, puzzled by Charlie's hesitance.

"I just wanted to... I wanted to say..." Charlie met Don's eyes and saw the encouragement and support within the dark orbs. "I love you."

Don's face lit up in a huge smile. "I love you too, Buddy." Attempting to lighten the unusually intense emotional moment, Don ordered, "Now, get out of here and get some rest because I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Charlie spoke as he gave Don a playful salute.

Don watched his brother leave and let out a depressed sigh. He hated hospitals. Absolutely, positively, without a doubt hated hospitals. It pained him to admit to himself that he actually needed to be in one right now, but he didn't think he could even sit up in bed, much less care for himself. He closed his eyes and attempted to relax, but the incessant beeping of his heart monitor kept him on edge.

"Mr. Eppes?"

I thought I was supposed to be getting rest, he growled silently. He opened his eyes and recognized the strict nurse from earlier standing by his bed. "Uh-huh?"

"I need to change your bandages," she told him as she gently moved the sheet down to his thighs and lifted his gown up to just above the bottom of his ribcage. Don felt her removing the bandage on his upper left abdomen. He couldn't see what she was doing, and his curiosity got the better of him. He carefully tried to lift his head but fell back onto his pillow with a gasp of pain as his stomach and shoulder protested the movement. "Mr. Eppes," the nurse gently scolded him. "You mustn't move around like that. You'll aggravate your injuries."

No, really? Don bit back his retort as he focused on taking deep breaths. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder and a soothing whisper in his ear. He smiled his thanks at the nurse – he couldn't remember her name – as the pain began to ease off. "Thanks," he finally managed to whisper.

"No problem. Are you still in pain?"

"Not as long as I just lie here – which is all I plan to do for quite a while."

"Oh, I doubt that," she chuckled in amusement as she returned her attention to changing his bandage. "I know you're itching to get out of here."

"Am I that obvious?" Don was content to watch her face, noticing how her smile shone through the stern exterior to reveal a very attractive woman.

"Yes, you are." Done with changing the bandage, she pulled his gown back down and the sheet back up, taking extra care to gently smooth it across his body. She lightly gripped the fingers of his left hand and pressed firmly on the nail beds of each one, noting how long it took for the color to return.

"I get a free manicure?" he joked.

"Just making sure the binding on your arm isn't too tight." She moved her soft hands to his head, placing them on his cheeks and gently turning his head to the side. From his new position Don could read her name tag – Sarah. She carefully removed the bandage and replaced it with a fresh one.

Don closed his eyes as she worked. She was so gentle and compassionate in the way she was caring for him that he didn't feel so alone anymore. He found himself relaxing and was soon stifling a yawn.

"All done," she quietly whispered close to his ear so as not to disturb him.

"…'kay," he murmured as he slid into a deep sleep.

--

"Dad?" Charlie called out as he entered his house.

"In the dining room," his father answered him.

Charlie tossed his keys on the table by the front door and joined his father in the other room. He started laughing as he saw a foot tall stack of magazines on the table. "Are all of those for Don?"

Alan regarded Charlie over the top of his newspaper. "They're for all of us, actually. Don's going to need something to read to keep him distracted and I figured it wouldn't hurt for us to have something to read while he sleeps." Alan set his paper on the table and studied Charlie. "You do plan on sitting with him the next few days."

Charlie was shocked at the slightly accusatory tone of his father's voice. "Of course I do," he bristled. "Larry and Amita are going to take over my classes for me." He studied his father, looking for any sign of what might have set off his anger. Upon closer observation, Charlie noticed that Alan seemed more sad than angry. "Dad," he gently began. "What's wrong?"

"You mean other than the fact that one of my sons was in an explosion and is still in the hospital recovering?"

"Dad," Charlie warned. "I'm serious. You've been a little... 'off' since this happened." Charlie took a deep breath and prayed for strength. "It almost seems that you've been avoiding Don since he's been in the hospital."

"You want to talk to me about avoiding people in hospitals?" Alan asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I do," Charlie replied testily. "I have been there for Don – both times he's woken up. And I've had to tell him where you were – both times he's woken up." He watched as Alan looked guiltily down at the dining table. Charlie sighed and softened his tone, leaning across the table to place his hand over Alan's. "Please, Dad – you can talk to me."

Alan looked up to meet his son's gaze, and Charlie was shocked at the sadness in his father's eyes. "It's not supposed to happen like this," Alan spoke softly.

"What's not supposed to happen?"

"Don isn't supposed to get hurt like this." Alan withdrew his hand from Charlie's and began fidgeting with the newspaper. "Not like this," he repeated morosely.

Charlie was still baffled. "Like what?"

Alan rubbed his forehead as he spoke, the gesture reminding Charlie of Don's similar habit. "In an accident." Alan wearily dropped his hands to rest on the tabletop. "I mean, I've spent years trying to prepare myself for the possibility that your brother could be injured on the job. I haven't really accepted it, but I've tried. But this... this accident..." He fixed Charlie with an imploring look. "This could have happened to anyone, so why – with all the other dangers he faces – did it have to happen to Don?"

Charlie, despite all of his intellectual gifts, found that he had no answer to give his father. In a moment of helplessness he seized his father's hand in a fierce grip. "I don't know why," he sadly admitted. "But I know that we have to be there for him – both of us." He paused for a moment, finally continuing in the softest of whispers. "This isn't like Mom. Don isn't dying, he's just a little banged up. You have to keep that in mind."

"I know," Alan told him. "But when I see him lying there so tired and pale... he's always looked so much like your mother to begin with, and seeing him like that just reminds me..."

Charlie rose from his seat and hugged his father. "I know," he whispered. "Me too." He and his father held onto each other until both of their hearts began to feel a little less burdened. Charlie released the embrace and started thumbing through the stacks of magazines. Sports Illustrated, Sports Illustrated: Special Baseball Edition, Backyard Hobbyist... "Wait," Charlie snorted. "Backyard Hobbyist? Don doesn't even have a backyard."

"I did say they were for us too."

"Ah yes," Charlie continued laughing as he held up three Sudoku books. "That would explain these."

Alan removed his reading glasses to be able to better glare at his youngest son. "What can I say? Your brother is very hard to shop for. He doesn't have many hobbies that don't involve fast paced, neck-breaking, dangerous action." Seeing Charlie's smug expression, Alan reached into a shopping bag that was resting on the floor. "I did get him this, though."

Charlie nervously gulped. "He can be awfully hard to shop for," he quickly agreed. "In fact, I'll go see what I can think of for him."

Alan couldn't hold back a fit of laughter as his son ran in terror from the travel-sized Scrabble game he held in his hand.

TBC