Don felt like he'd been running a marathon. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he panted for air. His stomach was aching, not like the stitch you got from running all out for a long time, but a deeper, throbbing ache. Don clamped his hand over his stomach thinking that the pressure might stop the pain, but quickly realized that was a mistake. He moaned aloud as the agony intensified.

"Don?"

He heard someone calling his name, his weary brain finally recognizing Charlie's voice. His brother was calling to him again, this time with a hint of panic in his speech. Don was too tired to try to figure out what Charlie was so upset about and was planning on ignoring him, until he felt a cool hand on his forehead. Don dragged his eyes open and tried to focus on the younger man's face. "What?" he asked weakly.

"Don, I'm going to call the nurse."

Why does everyone always have to fuss over me? Don wondered to himself. He hated that. Don decided to stop Charlie from disturbing the nurse. "'m fine." Oh crap, maybe I'm not, Don suddenly realized as it felt like someone swung a lead pipe into his stomach. He was going to tell Charlie that he had better call for help after all, but before he could speak, the pain sent him plummeting into darkness.

--

Charlie was reading over his lecture notes when a moan from the bed drew his attention. He set his laptop aside and rose from the couch, crossing the room to Don's bed. His brother's eyes were clenched shut, his face was pale and sweaty and lined with pain. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Don's forehead, his concern skyrocketing at the heat radiating from Don's body. "Don?" he called. "Don!"

His brother's eyes opened and Charlie was shocked at the glazed look in them. "What?" Don quietly croaked.

"Don, I'm going to call the nurse," Charlie said, even as he was reaching for the call button.

"'m fine," Don protested although it was obvious he was barely aware of his surroundings.

Charlie was going to argue when a loud alarm sounded from Don's monitor. He looked up and saw that Don's heart rate had increased while his blood pressure was decreasing rapidly. Before Charlie could press the call button, three on duty nurses were rushing into the room and shoving him to one side. He stood out of their way and tried to keep an eye on his brother through the flurry of activity swirling around the bed. One of them stepped outside the room and returned with the resident on duty. He leaned over Don and did something that elicited a strangled cry from his patient. Charlie bit back his own anguished response as the resident barked out orders to take Don to surgery.

"Don," he whispered helplessly, his heart stopping as his brother was rushed from the room, bed and all.

One of the women glanced over her shoulder. "We'll let you know." She left him with those words as she rushed to catch up with her patient.

Surgery? I'd better call Dad again. Charlie picked up the phone on the table next to where the bed used to be and dialed Alan's phone. "Dad, I think you'd better cut your meeting with Stan short and come back to the hospital."

"What's wrong?" Alan asked, his voice full of fear.

"They've taken him to surgery again," Charlie told him. "Just come back soon, Dad."

"I'll be there as fast as I can."

Charlie hung up and collapsed on the couch. What could have gone wrong? he wondered. Don had seemed to be doing so well. Maybe his father had been right about Don sitting up in bed, maybe it had been too early. But surely the hospital staff wouldn't have let him do it if they thought he wasn't ready. And fume hoods aren't supposed to leak, he thought bitterly. If he believed in it, he would be seriously concerned with the run of bad luck that Don was having.

He picked up the SI next to him, unconsciously flipping to the article he had read to Don just that afternoon. Charlie's eyes skimmed over the article, an in depth discussion over the pros and cons of the designated hitter. Tossing the magazine aside, he tangled his hands in his curls and sighed in frustration. Please let him be all right, he silently prayed.

"Charlie!" Alan called as he entered the room, stopping short at his son's missing bed. "Oh God..."

Charlie saw the panic in Alan's eyes and realized what he must be thinking. "No, Dad, he's not..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word. "They rushed him out of here, bed and all. I'm still waiting on them to bring him back."

"Then he's going to be okay?"

"He has to be," Charlie stated with a conviction he didn't quite feel.

Alan wearily sank beside his youngest son on the couch, holding his head in his hands. "I never should have left," he whispered regretfully. "I knew better."

"How could you? He was fine when you left."

"Because I'm his father," Alan argued as he met Charlie's gaze. "A father should always know when something's wrong with his son. Always."

Not knowing how to respond to that Charlie reached out and squeezed the older man's shoulder. "It's not your fault," he told Alan. Charlie waited for Alan to agree with him, or at least acknowledge what he'd just said, but his father remained silent. Charlie sighed as the emotions of the past forty-eight hours – was that really all it had been? - caught up with him. "If anyone is to blame, it's me. Don was at the chemistry building because I asked him to come."

Alan's breathing hitched. "That's another thing," he softly whispered.

"What?"

"You were there. It could have happened to you..." Alan stood and started pacing. "Like I told you before, I've come to accept – well… be prepared – that something might happen to your brother, but you... You're a professor. And even though I know you consult on Don's cases, your job is supposed to be safe. I shouldn't have to worry about both of you and in light of this accident that theory's gone right out the window." Alan's pacing grew faster, more restless.

Charlie sat in silence as he digested what his father had just told him. Charlie had never really thought about it like that, and now his own mortality hit home. I could have been injured too or even killed. No wonder Dad has been a little off. Charlie stood and closed the distance between Alan and himself, flinging his arms around his father. "Oh God, Dad," Charlie whispered as he clung to him. "I didn't even think about that."

Alan gently rocked his son, relishing the feel of him alive and uninjured in his embrace, while simultaneously despairing over Don's absence from the moment. "You know," he whispered in an attempt to lighten the moment. "I don't think I'm ever going to take my eyes off of either one of you two again."

Charlie pulled away and smiled at Alan, realizing he had only been half-joking in his statement. "Don's going to love it when he hears that."

Alan opened his mouth to respond but halted as Doctor Scottsboro entered the room. "Gentlemen," he greeted with a huge smile on his face.

"He's okay then," Alan said, interpreting the other man's expression.

"Yes, he is. Gave us a bit of a scare, but he pulled through nicely."

"What happened?" Alan demanded as anger began to color his voice.

"His spleen ruptured," Scottsboro explained. "Sometimes that happens-"

"When you let him put too much strain on his body!" Alan interrupted. "He never should have been sitting up in bed so soon."

"Mr. Eppes, I understand you're upset, but please hear me out." He waited until the older man nodded to continue. "A few years ago when an adult suffered injury to his spleen, the only treatment was to perform a splenectomy. We didn't have the diagnostic tools available to determine how severe the injury was and it was thought that the spleen healed poorly and wasn't a vital organ. As the medical field progressed, we began to realize that the spleen is important, especially in fighting off infections, and that it has remarkable healing power. That knowledge, combined with better ways to diagnose the degree of splenetic trauma, led us to consider repairing instead of removing the spleen, whenever it is feasible." Alan remained silent as he listened, his anger starting to dissipate as Scottsboro continued. "However, in a small number of cases, for reasons that are still unknown, an adult's spleen will sometimes spontaneously rupture after repair. We are aware of this risk – which is why we keep the patient for prolonged observation – but the benefit of a repaired versus removed spleen is great enough to supersede the risk of complication."

The two Eppes men mulled over the doctor's words. Charlie finally broke the silence. "So you removed his spleen this time?"

"Yes."

"What kind of impact will that have on Don?" Alan asked worriedly. "Will he be okay?"

"Don will be fine," Scottsboro assured them. "Adults can and do live normal, healthy lives after having a splenectomy. He'll be off work for about four weeks and then light duty for another four, but he will be able to return to being a field agent without any problems." He saw the relived looks on the Eppes' faces and gently smiled. "I know you'll want to learn more about this so I'll have a nurse bring you some pamphlets that go into more detail and provide you with a list of other resources."

"Thank you for everything you've done for my son," Alan said as he shook his hand.

"Anytime. Although I hope I don't see Don in the operating room ever again." The three men quietly chuckled. "Don is in recovery right now, but they'll bring him back in here as soon as he's ready. It shouldn't be too much longer."

Alan and Charlie sat on the couch as the doctor left, each man quietly contemplating the good news. Before too long an orderly and a nurse wheeled Don into the room. The two men rose and hovered just out of the way as the orderly locked the brake on the bed and the nurse hooked Don up to various essential pieces of equipment. She finished and gestured that they could approach.

"He was feeling a little sick, which is normal after a procedure like this, so we gave him some medicine to soothe his stomach," she quietly informed them. "He'll be a little groggy for the next few hours, which is also normal. He was in some pain so we gave him a strong pain killer which should have taken effect by now. If he wakes up and he is still in pain, ring Anna and she'll see what else we can do. Do you have any questions for me?" The two men shook their heads so she waved good-bye and slipped from the room.

Charlie studied his brother as he stood over him, noting that he was still pale, but the pain lines from earlier were no longer present. He wasn't sweating and his breathing was back to normal, no doubt aided by the cannula in his nostrils. Charlie found himself reaching out and placing the back of his hand on his brother's cheek, and was startled as Don weakly turned his head to press against it, his brow furrowing as he moved. "Shh," Charlie crooned as he turned his hand over to cup Don's cheek. "It's okay, bro. Dad and I are here."

"That's right, Donny," Alan spoke up as he held his son's hand, lightly running his thumb across Don's knuckles. "You're all right now. Just rest." Don mumbled unintelligibly as his eyelids fluttered and his right hand twitched in Alan's grasp. "You always were stubborn," Alan chuckled. "Well, go ahead and wake up, then."

Charlie couldn't help but grin as Don obeyed their father's command by opening his eyes and blinking sleepily at him. "Hey, Don," he whispered. Don's lips moved as if to respond, but no sound came out. "Dad's over there." Charlie gently nudged Don's cheek toward Alan.

Don slowly slid his gaze to the right and Alan saw the recognition in his son's brown eyes. "See? We're both right here, Donny." He reached up and threaded his fingers through Don's hair. "It's okay. Go back to sleep and we'll be here when you wake up."

Don stubbornly fought to keep his eyes open but the medicine in his system won out and he fell asleep. Alan maintained his ministrations while Charlie kept his hand pressed to his cheek. Neither one of them was letting go anytime soon.

TBC