God, my head hurts, was Charlie's first thought as he woke. He tried to reach up to rub the pain away and frowned as he felt something restraining his arm. Panic began to creep in as Charlie considered the possibility that Gary wasn't dead and had tied him down while he waited to kill him. The young man frantically tugged on whatever was holding his arm, desperately afraid for his and Don's lives.

"Shh," a calm voice whispered in his ear. "You're okay, Charlie."

Where do I know that voice? He tried to open his eyes but they seemed to be glued shut.

"Calm down Son," the voice spoke. "You're going to pull your IV out if you keep struggling."

"Dad?" Charlie croaked as he identified the speaker.

"I'm here," Alan replied softly as he stroked his son's cheek. "Are you with me now?"

The young man nodded and immediately regretted the action as the pounding in his head grew worse.

"Lie still," his father soothed him. "You've got a nasty head injury."

"Don?" Charlie blurted out. "Is he okay?"

"He's here, too," Alan told him.

The young man finally managed to drag his eyes open and felt the tension leave his body as his father's haggard face smiled down at him. "Where?"

"You're in the hospital."

"..Know that," the younger man yawned. "Where's Don?" At his father's evasive look, Charlie struggled to sit up. "You said he was here."

"Shh, Calm down," Alan whispered as he easily pinned his youngest son to the bed. "He is here, just not in this room."

"What aren't you telling me?" Charlie demanded loudly, setting off a mini bout of fireworks in his head. "He's okay, right?"

Alan's expression grew sad. "He's in ICU, Charlie. He lost a lot of blood."

"But he's going to be okay," Charlie pleaded. "He has to be."

"The doctors are optimistic," Alan said with a forced smile. "He should be out of ICU within a couple of days."

"What else?"

Alan sighed and shook his head. "You need to sleep, Son. We can talk about this later."

Charlie clutched at his father's sleeve and looked him in the eye. "I have to know." He felt tears welling and fought back a sob. "Please."

"Charlie..." Alan trailed off as he saw the determination in his son's eyes. "His right shoulder – there was a lot of damage there. They couldn't operate when he got here because he was too weak from the blood loss. They're going to operate as soon as he's strong enough, but..."

"But what?" Charlie whispered.

"There's a good chance Don will never have full use of that arm again."

"But he's right handed," he protested. "That means he wouldn't be able to fire his gun. He couldn't go back to being a field agent."

"I know," Alan said despairingly. "At this point, all we can do is wait and see."

--

Alan leaned back in his chair and watched his youngest son sleep, taking pleasure in simply watching the rise and fall of his chest. After he'd told Charlie about Don's condition, it had taken fifteen minutes to soothe him back to slumber. Alan mentally kicked himself for telling his son as much as he had about his older brother's condition, but he had held back the worst details. After all, it wouldn't do Charlie any good to know that Don had flat lined twice in the ER, or that he was currently having his breathing supported by a ventilator, or that he was fighting off a nasty infection, or that he'd yet to wake up since he'd been brought in.

Don had been given blood, which had improved his cardiac function and the doctors had assured Alan that the ventilator was only to take some of the strain off of Don while he grew stronger. As for his oldest son's unconscious state, that seemed to be a combination of factors including stress, exhaustion, and the sedatives the nurses kept pushing through his IV – partly to help him rest and partly so that he wouldn't wake up and fight the ventilator. The ER doctor had informed Alan that Don would be in a critical state for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours while they tried to eliminate the infection, but that he didn't foresee any complications or long term effects from his injuries with the exception of his damaged right shoulder. When Alan had asked what the chances were of the damage being repairable the doctor had just smiled and told him that they were always hopeful.

At least Charlie's prognosis was brighter. He was suffering from a concussion, a severe contusion to his lower back and exhaustion – all things that would heal with time and not have any long-term, lingering effects. Charlie's mental state after all he had been through was a different story and Alan had asked Megan to stay handy in case he needed her advice, or in case Charlie – by some huge miracle – decided he wanted to talk to someone.

Alan wearily sighed and checked his watch – six fifty-five in the evening. If he hurried, he could squeeze in a fifteen-minute visit with his other son. He stood and stretched his stiff joints, dropped a tender kiss on Charlie's head and walked as he quickly as he could to the Intensive Care Unit. He waved at the evening nurse and found his way to Don's room, slipping quietly through the door.

Although he had visited Don several times since his sons were brought here a little over twenty-four hours ago, he still couldn't help but be shocked by Don's appearance. His vision blurred with tears as he studied his eldest son's pale, lax features marred by the ventilator tube that hung from the corner of his mouth. He moved closer to the bed and dropped into the familiar chair, leaning over and taking Don's hand in his own. As always, his skin felt too warm for Alan's liking so he grabbed the damp cloth the nurses left by the bed – just for him – and started wiping Don's face.

"Oh Donny," he whispered sadly as he smoothed his hand through the short, spiky hair. "You're going to be all right. I'm here and Charlie will be here as soon as he gets better." His gaze dropped to the thick bandaging on Don's right shoulder, and his mind whirled with images of what might have caused the injury. "No one knows exactly what happened," he told Don. "Apparently Charlie radioed that you had been shot and stabbed by two men in the woods. They found the knife that caused the wound in your left shoulder, but they're not sure what happened to your right shoulder." He paused, setting the cloth down and gently wiped a stray eyelash from Don's cheek. He let his hand linger there as he kept talking. "I don't suppose you want to wake up and tell me what happened? I know Megan is going to take Charlie's statement as soon as he's up for visitors. I asked her if it was okay that she takes his statement since she's a family friend but she said it's pretty much a formality at this point and the crime did happen in a national park so the FBI can claim jurisdiction. I know she just wants to make it as easy on your brother as possible. That's a heck of a team you've got, Donny. I hope you tell them that often enough."

Alan glanced at his watch, dismayed to discover he only had five minutes left. "Okay, I've got to go soon, so how about some happier things?" He moved his hand from Don's cheek to his stomach and lightly rubbed small circles through the gown. "Stan and I got that client we were after. It's a six-month project and he's agreed to some very generous terms. I was thinking – and don't you dare tell your brother this – of buying him car with part of the money. I know he can afford one himself but he doesn't seem to want to go out and buy one. Maybe this way he'll feel guilty that I bought it and he'll start driving again. Kind of like kicking the baby bird out of the nest so he'll learn to fly. But remember, that's our little secret, okay?"

A nurse poked her head through the door and cleared her throat, indicating that Alan's fifteen minutes were up. He thankfully smiled at her and looked back at Don. "I've got to go now, Son." He carefully laid Don's hand back on the bed and rose from the chair. "I'll see you tomorrow morning during the first visiting time, okay?" He bent over and gently kissed Don on the forehead. "Rest well and get better soon. Remember, Charlie and I are here for you no matter what." He smoothed his son's dark hair one more time before turning and leaving the room.

TBC