A/N: If I didn't already mention it, this is written, and just requires chapter splits and clean up as I post - sometimes lots of clean up, sometimes very little, but, well, what it's going to be it pretty much already is. In my experience, the characters do what they want to do anyway and never ask my permission or opinion, so usually I just shut up and type.

And if I haven't said so earlier, I really appreciate you all coming along for the ride. You've been great. Not that there isn't a ways to go yet before it's done.

Chapter 11

Charlie later supposed that he had dismissed his class, probably locked his classroom, might even have had the presence of mind to grab his backpack, but he had no memory of any of it. He couldn't quite remember following the petite agent to her car, or buckling himself in, either. All he remembered was the thub thub thub of his heart, suddenly loud and painful, in his ears, and the dozens of images, each more disturbing than the last, that flashed, one after the other,across his mental screen. He closed his eyes to make them go away, but that only made them more vivid. They were also frighteningly familiar, as if they has been hiding back there, collecting themselves, waiting to leap out and terrify him when he least expected it. Don was right. I really need to stop looking at those crime scene photos. I mean, Don is right. Is. Is. Don is. Don. Don.

He grabbed for his cell phone again, his thumb automatically finding a button, and listened to the steady ring. After three, somebody picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Amita?" He'd thought about calling Larry - Larry was his dearest friend, and part of the official faculty - but Amita had a closer ties to the Math Department. Even if she was double-majoring in Physics now. So it made more sense to call her.

Okay, it didn't, but somehow he really needed to hear her voice.

"Charlie?" she sounded pleased, and a little questioning.

"Amita, I - um - " It was wonderful to hear her voice, just as he'd expected, but it also suddenly pushed him surprisingly close to tears, so he took a second to try to get himself in order. "I, um, need a favor."

"Sure, Charlie - what's up?"

He took a deep breath. "Don's - " Oh, God. Don. "Don's been hurt. I'm going to the hospital right now, but I had to dismiss my class, and I didn't have time to make arrangements for any of the others. Could you inform the right people - I - I don't know exactly when - "

"Oh, Charlie."

He recognized that the warm sympathy in her tone was exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd called, but it also teetered the fragile balance of his self control, and this time he slapped a hand over the mouthpiece to keep from embarrassing himself.

"Charlie, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

Charlie took a shaky breath and risked speaking. "Not - just that. Get my classes covered for me - and my absence. Thanks, Amita. I - " he broke off quickly and closed his eyes.

"Don't worry about anything, Charlie. I'll call you later to find out more about Don and see how you're doing. Don't worry about calling me - you have enough to think about. I'll tell Larry, too."

Charlie sniffed and blinked in surprise. How had she known that he'd called her first?

"And, Charlie - " she hesitated. "- Don is so strong."

Charlie pushed deep into the seat back. "Yeah," he agreed bleakly. "I know."

But strong doesn't equal bullet proof.

000

When they entered the corridors of Mercy Hospital, Mr. Eppes surprised Megan by moving ahead of her, as if he knew exactly where he was going. She was afraid for a moment that it was the backlash of shock and she tried to catch his arm, but to her surprise, he did indeed lead her directly to the Emergency Room waiting area. She caught up with him at the reception desk, just in time to hear him say,

"I'm here about my son - Don. Don Eppes."

The receptionist scanned the clipboard in front of her. "Eppes, Don. The emergency appendectomy?"

"Appendectomy?" He frowned. "No - my son is an FBI Agent." He glanced at Megan. "He was injured on duty - a car accident?"

The receptionist scanned the list again. "That's the only Eppes I have." She smiled at him and shrugged. "It's not a very common name."

"No…" Alan rubbed between his brows and looked at Megan again.

She smiled reassuringly. "Well, that would explain the car accident."

"Yeah. I - " he looked back at the receptionist. "Appendectomy. That's - pretty routine, isn't it?"

The receptionist's face was bland and noncommittal. "The surgeon will be able to tell you more. This shows him in surgery right now. Why don't you have a seat?"

Alan moved numbly away from the counter and toward a comfortless looking row of chairs. "Appendectomy," he repeated. "That sounds so - normal. I wasn't expecting…" He started to sit, stood again at the last second and turned this way and that - looking for something. "I think - I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Would you like one?"

Megan shook her head. "Between last night and today, I'm pretty much wired on coffee. I'll come looking for you if I get any news."

Alan gave a humorless laugh. "It'll be a while. It always is."

Megan watched his retreating back, and something about the slump of his shoulders brought a lump to her throat. She eased into one of the ugly vinyl-covered chairs and pulled out her phone. Maybe she'd just make a quick call to Jill - make sure that everything had gone all right with Charlie.

She was digging out the number when she heard someone call her name and looked up to see David hurrying across the waiting room toward her. She stood to meet him.

"David! Did you ride in with him?"

"Yeah…" David took a swipe at his broad forehead. "Took forever to get him free. Part of the car door was actually in his leg - I don't need to see anything like that again for a long time. Then in the ambulance, he - well - when we got here they did that - code blue, STAT stuff, but they wouldn't tell me anything. Next of kin, they said. I called Colby, just to let him know, told him I'd keep him posted." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "How'd you make out?"

Megan pursed her lips and quirked her brows in a simulated shrug. "Mr. Eppes is getting coffee. I sent Jill Ayckburn to get Charlie. Haven't heard from her yet."

"Oh." David looked troubled. "Maybe I should have - "

Megan looked at him. "And left Don? No. We just ran out of people."

"Yeah." David shifted. "If Colby hadn't been sick…"

This time Megan almost smiled. "I don't think that was exactly Colby's kind of assignment."

David gave a reluctant laugh in assent.

Megan led him back to the bank of seats. "So you don't know anything? The receptionist said something about an appendectomy."

"Wow. Really?" David shook his head. "I didn't know." He eased himself into a chair next to her. "They wouldn't tell me anything." He massaged his forehead with the heels of his hands. "I thought they were going to have to take his leg off, the way it was bleeding. Kept hoping he'd just pass out, get a little relief, but, no - it was - I mean, they wouldn't even give him something for the pain. Said they couldn't - that the pain was 'informative', whatever the hell that means…" Megan cleared her throat pointedly and he lifted his head to see Alan Eppes standing in front of him with a paper cup of coffee clutched in one hand. He froze. "Um - " Alan's face told him clearly how much he'd heard. David shuffled to his feet. "Mr. Eppes." He held out his hand awkwardly, scrambling to regain his poise. "How are you holding up? Please - sit down."

Alan took the hand without comment. David moved down a seat to let Alan sit between them. Alan leaned his elbows on his knees and watched the steam curl up from the cup he clutched with both hands.

"So you rode in with him."

David squirmed. "But they didn't tell me anything. Less than you, even."

Alan shook his head. "I knew he was sick. I thought he should stay home, but, well - it's hard with Donnie."

"Mr. Eppes - " Megan put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Alan. Please."

She nodded. "Alan. I can't pretend to know your son as well as you do, but I do know him on the job. And I know that if he thought for even a second that his being there would compromise that arrest, or any of us, or even his own safety, then he wouldn't have been there."

Alan swiveled his head to look at her. "I believe you," he said calmly. "But he's not always a good judge. Terry used to say - " He broke off and eyed Megan dubiously, as if to see if he was treading on awkward ground. She smiled encouragingly, and he relaxed a little. "Terry used to say that Don isn't as good at taking care of himself as he thinks he is. She's right. He's not."

"Still," Megan prodded gently, "if he didn't realize he was sick, how could you expect to?"

Alan gave her a sad, tolerant smile. "Because I did. Because I'm his father. It's funny, when we brought Donnie home for the first time, it was the scariest moment of my life. Here was this fragile little life, completely dependent on a couple of clueless kids. Oh, not that we didn't get tons of advice - we did - some of it good, some of it ridiculous, some of it just plain frightening. I remember somebody - I can't even remember who - telling me that I'd always know when he was sick by looking at his eyes. I figured they were crazy. I mean, it sounded like palm reading or something. I just kept hoping my wife would develop this miraculous knowledge, because I figured there wasn't any hope for me." He took a sip of his coffee, made a face. "I'll never forget the first time I actually looked at him and thought - 'Uh oh. He's coming down with something. His eyes look all wrong.'" He tilted his coffee cup again. "Just like the other night."

Megan started to protest, stopped herself just in time. Maybe she should just keep quiet. Maybe he just needed to talk.

"With Charlie it's easy, you know? I can say, 'So you have to schedule one makeup class, or somebody else covers for you, or you cancel - one lecture - what's the big deal? It's not a matter of life and death.'

With Donnie, what do I say? 'Forget about that serial killer for one day. Or that kidnap victim. Or that threat to public safety.' He'd look at me like I was crazy. I'd feel crazy." He took another swallow of coffee. "I mean, I know there's a good, convincing argument out there somewhere - I just haven't found it yet. I have more experience with Charlie."

Megan leaned forward next to him, so they were eye to eye. "You could try telling him that he's not the only FBI Agent in LA."

Alan raised his brows thoughtfully. "That's pretty good." He drained his coffee cup and crumpled it into a ball. "You got any others?"

She reached over and patted his knee. "I'll work on it."

TBC