Alan arrived home and frowned as he saw the empty driveway. Surely his sons should've been home by now. Unless Don had started feeling worse and Charlie had managed to talk him into going to the doctor. Right, Alan sarcastically thought to himself. I'm sure that's it. Maybe Don talked him into going to his apartment and Charlie offered to stay to make sure he was okay. Alan climbed out of the car and entered the darkened house.
He looked for any notes that Charlie might have left on the entryway table but found none. He checked for messages on the answering machine but there weren't any. Though he didn't remember his phone vibrating, Alan pulled it out and looked for missed calls or voicemails. Again, he came up empty. Where are those two? he wondered as his worry began to grow.
Alan sighed as he studied Charlie's cell in his hand. His youngest son had the worst habit of forgetting it wherever he went. He tried Don's cell and frowned as it went straight to voicemail. "Okay," he spoke aloud to himself. "Now I'm officially worried."
Alan made his way to his office and pulled out his list of emergency contacts, quickly scanning the list until his finger landed on David Sinclair's number. He punched it into the phone and impatiently waited for the agent to pick up.
"Sinclair."
"David," Alan answered with relief.
"Hey, Mr. Ep- I mean, Alan," the young man answered in delight. "How are you?"
"Not too good, David," Alan informed him. "Not too good at all."
"What's going on?"
"Don and Charlie and I went to a relative's wedding tonight," Alan began. "Don wasn't well and he kept getting worse, so I sent him home with Charlie."
"Oh yeah," David replied thoughtfully. "You know, Colby got sick too. Come to think of it, he and Don ate at some seafood place last night. Maybe it's a touch of food poisoning?"
Alan's concern quickly grew. "Neither one of them are here yet, and they left two hours before I did. Charlie left his cell with me, but I've tried calling Don and he's not answering."
"Okay, Alan," David said calmly. "I'll swing by Don's apartment and see if they're there and just not answering."
"And if they're not there?" Alan pressed.
"I'll start calling local hospitals and see what I can find out. Tell you what, I'll go ahead and get Megan to start doing that."
"I hate to be a bother..."
"No bother at all," David promised him. "I'm happy to help. I'll call you back when I know more."
"Thanks," Alan said as David hung up. Alan began pacing across the living room. He felt a little better now that Don's team was helping, but he still had a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong.
--
"Time to rest again," Charlie panted, bringing himself and Don to a halt.
"Should… keep going," Don weakly insisted.
"No," Charlie told him. "It's getting too dark for me to see, and the last thing we need is another fall down the side of the mountain." He studied Don's face in the dusky light. "And you need to rest before you collapse," he added softly, his voice full of worry.
"Can't argue… with that."
Charlie's heart skipped a beat at his brother's open admission but he quickly swallowed his concern. He scanned the area for somewhere to rest, finally settling on a patch of soft grass next to a small cluster of trees. "Over there," he said, nodding at their destination. "Just a few more feet."
"…'Kay," Don sighed wearily.
Charlie led him to the spot and gently lowered him to rest on his knees. He held him steady as he patted the ground, making sure there were no sharp objects or feisty fauna lurking in their chosen site. Satisfied that they were in no danger, he slowly eased Don to lie on his back and sat next to him. Charlie dug into his pack and removed the water and the bag of leftovers he'd taken from the wedding. Rolling the pack up into a ball, he carefully slid it under Don's head. "How's that?"
"Good, thanks."
Charlie uncapped the water bottle and held it to Don's lips, frowning when Don turned his head away. "You need to drink."
"I'll be sick."
"You need to try to stay hydrated," Charlie half-insisted, half-begged.
"No good if it comes back up."
"Please," Charlie pleaded. He persistently pushed the bottle against Don's lips and was relieved when Don finally opened his mouth and accepted a swallow.
"No more," Don told him as he turned his head away. "And be ready to help me up." Charlie nodded and started to put the cap back on when Don's tired but angry voice spoke. "You need to drink, too."
The younger man froze, not realizing that Don had been aware enough to notice that he hadn't been drinking. "You need it more," he protested.
"No," Don said with as much force as he could muster. "You're doing all the work. You need it more."
"But-"
"I won't make it if you don't," Don quietly pointed out. "You know that's true."
Charlie tried to ignore his brother's statement. He did know that was true, but it meant he had to face the very real possibility that Don – or both of them – might not make it out of this situation alive. And he wasn't ready to accept that. "Okay," he relented as took a couple of swallows. He capped the bottle and set it down, turning his attention to the leftovers in the bag. "Can you eat?"
"Not a chance."
"Alright," Charlie sighed. He knew Don probably would throw up whatever he ate, so he didn't force the issue. "Don't mind me then." He quietly snacked on leftover chicken, feeling guilty as he ate in front of his brother.
"…'S good," Don spoke softly. "Keep your strength up."
"You should get some sleep," Charlie gently told him. "We'll get moving again in the morning."
"…'Kay." Don fell silent so long that Charlie thought he'd finally drifted off. But his brother's voice whispered again. "Do you know where we're going?"
"Yes," Charlie stated firmly.
"Good." Don was quiet again and soon his breathing evened out as he slept.
"At least I hope I do," he faintly whispered to his brother's sleeping form.
--
"Hello?" Alan answered the phone on the first ring.
"Alan," David greeted him solemnly. "Don's not at his apartment and no one has been admitted to any of the area hospitals under either his or Charlie's name. I think it's time we organized a search."
Alan sat in a stunned silence as David's words sank in. They were out there somewhere, lost or injured? And Don was already sick...
"Alan?" David called loudly.
"Sorry," he answered as he snapped out of his daze. "A search sounds good."
"Okay. We'll set up a headquarters at the banquet hall where you had the reception. And I'll need you to map out the exact route you think they would have taken home. Start working on that and I'll send Megan by to pick you up." David paused as Alan remained silent. "We will find them, Alan."
"Thank you, David."
"I mean it."
"I know you do." Alan fought to control the emotion in his voice. "I'll get started on that route."
As David disconnected, Alan unfolded and studied his map. His heart sank as he realized a lot of the drive home was through some treacherous mountain roads. His mind began conjuring up all sorts of worse case scenarios, but Alan quickly shoved them aside as he began tracing the route his sons would have taken. Despite his best efforts, memories of the dinner began playing in his head.
--
Alan looked up as Don walked – no, staggered – back to their table after his fourth trip to the bathroom. "Are you sure you don't want to leave?" he heard Charlie ask.
Alan studied his oldest son's pale, sweaty face. "Donny, you look terrible."
"Thanks for the support," he grumbled as he collapsed into his chair. "I'll be-"
"I swear you had better not say fine, Don Eppes." Alan threatened as he leaned across the table and placed his hand on Don's forehead. "You're burning up!"
"Okay, so I'm a little hot," Don admitted. He took a deep breath and sank even farther into the uncomfortable chair. "Maybe going home wouldn't be a bad idea."
Alan and Charlie exchanged worried glances, looking up as Don chuckled. "What's so funny, young man?" Alan demanded.
"I have some sort of stomach bug and you two act like I'm dying," Don told him. "I'll be fine, I just don't think I can sit here much longer." He wearily dug his keys out of his pocket.
"Take your brother home, Charlie." Alan said, snatching the keys from Don's hand. "He's in no condition to drive."
Charlie nodded solemnly as he accepted the keys. Alan expected Don to make some smart remark about his brother's driving but his oldest son merely said, "Just be careful."
"I'll help you get him to the car," Alan said as he started to stand.
"No!" Don protested. "I'm not that sick. I can walk out of here on my own two feet." To prove his point he stood and fought off a wave of dizziness. Once he was certain he wasn't going to fall down, he smiled at his father. "See?"
Alan ignored him and looked at Charlie. "Take him to the house – not his apartment. He needs bed rest and TLC."
"Dad," Don groaned.
"I will," Charlie nodded as he lightly gripped Don's elbow and nudged him toward the exit. "Tell Aunt Irene that we're sorry we have to leave early."
"I would," Alan said wryly. "But it'd be a shame to lie to her on such a joyous occasion."
TBC