Alan woke to a low moan. He opened his eyes and stared up at the darkened ceiling of the hotel room. Another low moan followed by harsh breathing set his senses on alert. He sat up and flipped on the nightstand lamp just in time to see Charlie bolt out of bed and crash on the floor.
"No!" his youngest son screamed, his eyes wide and filled with terror.
"Charlie!" Alan rose from his bed and rushed to the younger man's side, dropping to his knees and trying to hold him close.
"No," Charlie sobbed as he fought his father's attempts. "Stop hurting him. Oh God, please stop hurting him."
"Shh," Alan whispered. "Don's fine, Charlie." The older man kept struggling and finally got his arms wrapped around his son. He held Charlie close and whispered in his ear, all the while lightly massaging his back and gently rocking him. "Shh. It's okay."
"It's not," Charlie sniffled as he buried his face in his father's chest. "It'll never be okay again. I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes."
"I know," Alan soothed. "But it will get better. Especially if you talk to-"
"No!" Charlie yelled as broke free of his father's grip and flew to his feet. He stood, panting and disheveled as he glared down at his father. "Stop pushing me! I can't relive this... not again."
"Okay," Alan nodded. "I didn't mean to push. I just worry about you."
"Worry about Don," the younger man sighed, his energy flagging as he anger died away. "He's the one we should worry about now."
"I am," Alan admitted. "I'm trying to be optimistic, but I am worried. I refuse to let Don see that, however."
"Me neither," Charlie said as he collapsed onto his bed. "I think that's why the dreams are so bad, because I'm holding my emotions in around him. They'll get better after he gets out of surgery."
It was a weak argument and they both knew it, but Alan remained silent as he rose to his feet. Moving to stand next to his son's bed, he tenderly drew the covers over him and smoothed the curly locks from his face. "Good night, Charlie. I love you."
"Love you too, Dad."
Alan watched in the dim light of the bedside lamp as Charlie fell asleep. He knew the mathematician was nearing his breaking point and he was pretty sure that only one person was going to be able to get him through it. He smiled as he thought about Don and his powers as a big brother to soothe Charlie's fears and pain. Now all Don had to do was get through the surgery with flying colors and then he could help Charlie.
--
"Eat," Alan commanded his youngest son.
"I'm not hungry," Charlie pouted as he glared at the baked chicken on his plate.
"Look – we can't do anything for Don now except wait and make sure we're strong for him when he gets out of surgery." Alan picked up Charlie's fork and thrust it into his hand. "So eat."
The younger man begrudgingly obeyed, cutting a small piece of chicken and chewing the flavorless meat in his mouth. "Hospital food is disgusting," he muttered.
Alan fought back a grin, happy to hear his son's voice, even if it was to complain. "Just think about your brother," he grinned. "He'll be on broth and jell-o for the rest of today."
"So you're telling me that it could be worse?" Charlie cocked an eyebrow and slowly returned his father's smile.
"Exactly," Alan laughed, frowning as he got his first taste of the bland chicken. "That is pretty bad. Maybe we should have gone somewhere else and come back." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "We'd have had plenty of time, too."
They had arrived at the hospital early enough to visit with Don before his surgery. Of course, he was only lucid for the first few minutes until the drugs started kicking in and then it was basically several minutes of Alan and Charlie keeping their laughter at bay while Don rambled on about ridiculous topics. He even started singing at one point and Charlie had to convince him to keep quiet or he'd scare all the pretty nurses. Alan had been so relieved to watch his sons interact with one another – he just knew Don would be the best medicine for Charlie's emotional distress.
Doctor Martinez had arrived a little later and shook everyone's hand, greeting them with his cheerful words and putting them at ease. Even Don seemed completely carefree as they rolled him away from his family and into surgery, although the drugs in his system probably had something to do with that as well.
Charlie and Alan had waved goodbye and headed down to the cafeteria to wait. As soon as lunch was being served, Alan had bought two plates, despite his son's numerous protests about not being hungry.
"Dad."
"What?" Alan looked up, his thoughts drifting away as he returned to the present.
"If I have to eat, so do you." Charlie pointed at the chicken on his father's plate, still untouched except for the one missing bite.
"Oh… right." He forced another tasteless bite down and washed it away with a sip of water. Charlie started laughing and Alan looked at him with a bewildered expression on his face. "What's so funny?"
"That face you make when you're eating! It reminds me of when Don and I were kids, and you used to eat something to show us how good it was so we'd eat it too. You weren't very good at hiding it then, either."
"I know," Alan smiled. "Your mother always managed to trick me into being the taster. She was skilled at things like that."
"Yeah," Charlie quietly agreed. The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence as they reflected on their missing loved one.
"I wouldn't have made it if I had lost you and your brother, too," the older man said softly. "Whatever happened – or whatever you might have had to do to save yourselves – it was worth it. I mean that, Charlie."
"I know you do, but I still don't want to talk about it."
"That's fine. Honestly, I'm not pushing. I just really wanted you to know that."
"Thanks." Charlie glared at the chicken one last time and looked up at his father. "What do you say we blow this joint and go see if Don's out of surgery yet?"
Alan dropped his fork with relief. "Yes, let's. I don't think I could have eaten another bite."
--
Don slowly opened his eyes and stared at the overhead lights. Where am I? Wait, I had surgery, right? Am I through? Where is everybody? What's the word on my shoulder? Do I get to keep being a field agent or... No, I can't let myself think like that. Seriously, is anybody here?
"...lo?" he called weakly.
"Shh, Agent Eppes," a soft female voice whispered. "You're doing just fine. You're in recovery for about another ten to fifteen minutes and then we'll have you back in your room with your family."
"S'good."
"Just close your eyes and relax. You'll be gone before you know it."
He did as she suggested and drifted back into a restful slumber.
When he awoke later, he opened his eyes and saw ceiling tiles directly above him instead of bright, overhead lights. Am I back in my room?
"We're here, Donny."
He smiled at his father's voice. Guess that answers my question.
"...lie?"
"Right here," his brother answered, gently rubbing his forearm. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," he whispered. "What 'bout... m'shoulder?"
"Doctor Martinez said the damage was nowhere near as severe as the x-rays had led him to believe," Alan told him. "He thinks that with a lot of rest and therapy you will make a complete recovery. Did you hear that though, Donny? Rest. A lot of rest, which means lying in bed and not overdoing it. He said that applies to the therapy, too. Slow and steady is the key." Alan caressed Don's cheek and smiled warmly at him. "And I am not above tying you to the bed to ensure that it happens."
"Always... smart remark."
"Consider it payback for your childhood," Alan teased. "How's the pain? I can get you something..."
"M'fine," Don mumbled around a yawn. "Sleepy."
"Then go to sleep," Alan whispered lovingly. "We aren't going anywhere, right Charlie?"
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," the younger man assured his brother as he grasped his hand and squeezed.
"Good to hear," Don said as he squeezed back. He was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle caresses on his cheek and the light massage on his forearm; feeling surrounded by love and security.
TBC
