A/N: Okay, simanis, I do see where you got that idea. But if you check out Chapter 5, you can see that Don lost control of the car when he had a sudden pain and he thought he was shot. Later, when he checks for blood, there is none, because that was his appendix rupturing, not a bullet. Though I'm told it feels about as bad.

Chapter 13

He wasn't sure how long he walked, trying to somehow outpace his thoughts. A part of him still remembered where things were, so he wasn't completely surprised when he found himself dead-ended by a wall of glass at the bottom of one corridor. Instead of turning around, he lingered, watching through the windows.

The neo-natal unit. So many struggling little lives. Amazing how dangerous life was, right from the beginning, how many things there were to challenge or threaten it. Trust his son to decide to spend his life throwing himself right in front of as many of them as he could find. He sighed through his nose and leaned into the wall to watch the scrub-draped figures busy with the incubators.

All right, that wasn't quite fair. Don was careful - he knew that. Took all the precautions he could. It was just…

He sensed that he had company even before he caught a glimpse of a reflection in the glass. He and Charlie had lived together for so long - virtually all of Charlie's life - that he could sense and read him almost like a spouse. Now he sensed Charlie's uncertainty as he lingered behind him. Alan didn't turn around, his eyes on one of the undersized infants squirming restlessly in his incubator, but to break the ice he said, "So, what are they?"

Charlie blinked. "Um - sorry?"

"The odds." Alan smiled slightly. "Don't tell me you didn't ask."

"I thought you didn't want to know."

"I don't. But - tell me."

"Oh." Charlie shifted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, um, the odds the doctor quoted - I mean, they aren't really that accurate. They include the most fragile and likely to succumb - the very old and the very young - that obviously doesn't apply to Don, and they don't factor in Don's level of fitness, which is unusually good, so - um - "

Alan gave a short laugh. "That bad, huh?"

Charlie fell silent.

Alan watched the tiny, blue-tinged fingers on the other side of the glass grasp at empty air. So small. Bet one of those hands wouldn't even cover one of my fingertips. "I owe Megan and David an apology."

"Dad. No. They - really, they understand."

"I know." He tugged at an earlobe. "And I know better. Needed somebody to lash out at, I guess. It's just that every time I think of how this could end, I just - " He pinched at the bridge of his nose, rubbed a hand over his eyes. Charlie's reflection grew and sharpened in the window until he was standing right next to him.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Me too."

Alan dropped his hand. "Want to hear something funny?"

He caught Charlie's worried glance in the glass.

"Okay…"

"Know how I'm always on Don to tell me things? Open up a little more? Share?"

"Yeah." Charlie still sounded tentative.

Probably afraid his old man is starting to lose it. "Well, turns out? There really are some things I'd just as soon not know about."

Charlie laughed weakly. "I think I know what you mean."

Alan studied Charlie's reflection, trying to read his eyes. Seeing the two of them standing right next to each other he was struck, not for the first time, by their resemblance: same nose, same hair, same face shape, same smile. Not that anybody was smiling right now.

In Donnie the resemblance was only passing and vague, but their temperaments were more similar - probably the reason they were more likely to lock horns. Charlie looked more like him, Donnie was more like him. He noticed where Charlie's head came in comparison to his in the glass and quirked an unexpected smile. Well, except in size, of course. The smile faded just as suddenly as the insubstantial vision of the two of them standing alone together took on a new and foreboding significance. He pulled his eyes away from the shared reflection and refocused them firmly on the preemies.

The one he had been watching was really squirming now, his fingers curled into miniscule fists the size of pencil erasers. He couldn't hear him through the glass, but his mouth was open in some kind of a yell or cry. While he watched, one of the attendants came over and pushed her hands through the holes in the incubator side, touching him, trying to soothe him. He was having none of it. He kicked his matchstick legs feebly and waved his little fists, mouth wide.

I wonder what his odds are? Not that he seems to care. Seems determined to fight his way out of there one way or another. Fighting the odds. Reminds me of someone.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection and was startled to realize that now he was smiling.

He watched the tiny figure for another minute, admiring the way he flailed at the attendant. Probably his odds are very long. But if I was a betting man, I'd be willing to bet that he'll beat them.

His heart lightened unexpectedly. He reached over rested a hand on the back of Charlie's neck, gave it a squeeze.

"Come on. Let's find out if they'll let us see your brother."

000

The awkwardness still lingering in the air was expected, and Alan, a little embarrassed to be the cause of it, wasted no time in trying to dispel it. He reached out a hand to Megan, caught David's eyes. Jill Ackyburn, he noticed, was gone. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. I just - "

Megan took the hand immediately and pressed it. "No, Mr. - Alan. Really. We're all a little rattled."

Alan pushed down a hysterical laugh. A little. Okay.

"I - was going to tell you everything. I just - thought it would be better if you had a little time to absorb - " she paused, visibly measuring her own words, made a face. "Or maybe I was being a coward. I do need to tell you everything, because it will be on the news, and I don't want you getting it third hand. It was an important arrest, and - "

"So you got him." Alan broke in.

Megan nodded.

"The serial killer guy?" Charlie piped up. "I know Don was really wound up about that one."

"We all were." Megan's eyes drifted back to the television screen. "In fact, he's going to be pretty annoyed that none of us are sitting in on the interrogation - let me tell you the whole story, and then I'll get down to Headquarters and catch up with Wainwright. David will stay with you - " She glanced at David, who nodded.

"Yeah. In fact, why don't you go now, Megan? I can fill them in. I was closer anyway." Megan hesitated, and David pressed. "Doesn't really need a psychologist, I'll just stick to the facts. Right? I don't want to get chewed out later about not having somebody there, do you? After all our hard work?"

Megan turned her eyes to Alan, who forced a smile. "Go on. Make my son happy. It's probably the first thing he'll ask about when he opens his eyes anyway."

Megan nodded, giving his hand another squeeze. "Okay." She fixed David with a stare. "Keep me posted. I'll be in touch."

David nodded, gave her a wave as she moved toward the exit. The three men stood and watched her go.

"So," said David at last. "You don't really want to know everything, do you?"

Alan shook his head.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Just keep the news off for a couple of days - avoid the papers. It was a big story. They'll milk it for a while. The details - aren't helpful."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, suddenly a little pale. Before he could reformulate his thoughts, another woman in scrubs and bearing a clipboard was in front of him. "You're with Don Eppes?" she said pleasantly.

"Yes - " Alan took a step toward her, wondering what secrets they hid on those darned clipboards.

"Your son has been settled in his room, if you'd like to see him."

Alan released a pent up breath. "Please."

He fell into step on one side of her, his questions, held so long at bay, now tumbling out of him. "How is he doing? He's never been good with anesthesia."

"He hasn't?" Charlie frowned. "How come I never knew that?"

"Probably because he never threw up all over you." Alan kept his eyes on the… nurse? Nurse Practitioner? Physician's Assistant? He could never keep them straight.

"He did have some trouble coming out of the anesthesia," she confirmed. "Which is one of the things that took so long, especially since we're trying to keep his dehydration in check."

"But you said a room. So he's not in ICU."

"No - " she turned down an unfamiliar corridor. "But he is on the critical list, for at least the night." She stopped abruptly at a bank of elevators and hit a button.

Alan nodded numbly, trying to absorb this new information. "So I can stay with him?"

The elevator doors slid open. The woman nodded as they shuffled inside. "We can get you set up with a cot. He's on a very tight nursing schedule though, so I don't think you'll get much sleep."

"I don't expect to sleep much anyway." Alan made a note of the floor number as the doors opened again to let them exit. He felt tension radiating from Charlie and grasped his upper arm reassuringly and squeezed. Charlie glanced at him and flushed and ducked his head. For the first time, he noticed that David wasn't with them.

"Here you go." The woman leaned on a door and gestured them in ahead of her.

Alan glanced around. Private room. So the FBI was good for some things. There was another woman in scrubs fiddling with the equipment around a high, narrow white bed. He was preparing himself, getting a hold of his feelings as best he could, when he felt Charlie's bicep clench under his hand. He glanced at him with a frown, saw his mouth working wordlessly. This kind of stuff wasn't Charlie's best thing. Maybe - "Charlie," he said quietly. "Do you want to go back to the waiting room?" Charlie shook his head, gesturing absently. Alan hesitated. "Look, there's no shame - "

"Dad." Charlie shook off his hand and stepped past him to the bed. "I'm - no. I'm okay."

Alan saw him stop short and flinch, moved up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Okay. Probably better for both of us together anyway. He looked down and flinched himself. Oh, Donnie.

A little cautiously, he rested one hand on the side of Don's head and stroked lightly with his thumb.

"Hey, kiddo." His voice came out sounding hoarse. "How you doing?" It registered that Don's head was turned to one side and he gave the nurse a questioning look.

She followed his gaze. "I know it doesn't look very comfortable, but he has a nasty contusion back there - we're trying to keep pressure off of it."

"The concussion." Alan nodded, remembering. "He's so hot."

"That's the peritonitis. We're working on that."

Alan nodded again, taking in the different machines humming a soft and familiar symphony of mechanical sound. His eyes followed the tubes, trying to discern their individual uses. "Feel like I've been waiting for this day forever," he said to no one in particular. "Funny how I'm not ready for it anyway." He was vaguely aware of distant scraping noises, then a drag on his sleeve. He shrugged it off impatiently.

"Dad." He raised his eyebrows in Charlie's direction. "Have a seat."

He blinked at the chair Charlie had pulled up to the bed. Charlie tugged gently on his arm and he finally sank wordlessly into it, his hand still resting on Don. "I'm staying here tonight, Charlie." He shifted his hand to press it against Don's neck instead. God, he was hot. Temperature had to be…? He glanced automatically at the monitor, then looked quickly away. "You should go home. David will drive you."

"I want to stay too."

Alan glanced down the length of the bed, observing the draining tubes trailing from underneath the sterile white counterpane, one leg resting higher than the other under the drape of the covers. Leg laceration. Right. "You need some sleep."

He heard Charlie's short laugh. "Right. Like I'm going to be getting a lot of sleep alone in that big house, wondering what's going on here. We can take turns - one of us will sleep and one of us will sit with him. So if he wakes up, he'll know he isn't alone."

Well, that had been what he'd had in mind - leaving Don with a familiar face. Don was always badly disoriented by anesthesia - always - even more than the average person. Probably because it forced him to let his guard down completely for once. Alan scrutinized Charlie, noting the determined set of his jaw. "Okay," he said at last. "It's a good idea."

Charlie nodded his satisfaction, pulling over another chair and balancing precariously on the edge.

Don twisted suddenly under Alan's hand, breathed something unintelligible, then was quiet again.

Alan shifted his hand until it rested over Don's heart, patted lightly. "Okay, kiddo," he whispered. "Everything's okay."

The nurse watched him knowingly. "He's been doing that a lot. Bad dreams, probably."

Alan watched Don's face, could see his eyes racing, even under the tight shut, quivering lids. "Yeah…" he murmured. "I wouldn't be surprised. Think we're all going to have our share of those tonight."

TBC

A/N: I know, I know - I get you there slowly. But I will get you there - promise.