"Ten minutes and not a second more, you got that?"

"You sound like Dad," Don groaned at his little brother. "I am a grown man, you know."

"Who has a tendency to push himself too hard," Charlie retorted. "We want you to get better, not re-injure yourself and possibly do permanent harm to your shoulder."

"Ten minutes," Don sighed. "I've got it."

Charlie took a seat on the living room couch and watched like a hawk as Don started to go through his rehabilitation exercises. Don went through a series of movements that had him raising and lowering his arms to his sides and then in front of him, as well as holding both arms at shoulder height and bringing his hands to meet in front of him. Charlie was immensely pleased as he watched Don tackle each chore with deliberate slow and steady motions. His brother winced a couple of times as his injured joint protested, but Charlie could tell that those were only minor twinges and knew those were to be expected for some time to come. Don finally moved into his last set of exercises which was simply to shrug his shoulders forwards and backwards.

Right as he counted ten on the last set, Charlie glanced at his watch. "Time's up," he announced.

"Like clockwork," Don grinned, subtly sneaking another shrug in.

"Hey, I saw that!" Charlie warned him. "Ten minutes is ten minutes, okay? Don't make me tie you down like Dad threatened we would."

"You and what army?" Don teased defiantly.

"I don't need an army with you only having one good arm," Charlie retorted. "And I have these." He dangled Don's handcuffs from his right index finger.

"Where'd you get those?" Don demanded.

"Dad snagged them when he went by your apartment to get your clothes and stuff. He said they might come in handy if we really did have to tie you down." Charlie beamed his best 'annoying little brother' smile.

"Man, it must be genetic," Don mumbled. "I can't seem to keep either one of you from going through my stuff." Charlie opened his mouth but Don quickly cut him off, seeming to know what was coming. "Don't say it! I know I have cool stuff, but this is ridiculous."

"It's because we care," Charlie whispered, his tone slightly hurt.

Don sighed and sank onto the couch next to his little brother. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, Buddy. God knows I couldn't have gotten through this without both of you." He paused and placed a hand on Charlie's knee. "Especially you."

Charlie averted his gaze and picked at the arm of the couch. He suddenly bolted to his feet, saying "Let me get the ice for your shoulder."

"Charlie-"

"I'll be right back," Charlie interrupted him, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he fled.

Once in the safety of the kitchen, he allowed himself to take a deep breath. He'd come very close to letting his emotions spill over in the living room just then, and he knew it wasn't fair to burden Don with that kind of baggage while he was still trying to recover from his own ordeal.

Dammit, Eppes, you're a grown man. This shouldn't be that hard to cope with. So you shot a man? Big deal! It was him or your brother. You would rather it have been Don?

"Of course not," Charlie muttered aloud.

Then what's your problem?

I killed a man, Charlie argued with the little voice in his head. That's the problem.

"Charlie!" Don's voice called from the other room.

"Coming!" He opened the freezer door and retrieved a Styrofoam cup that had been filled with water and then frozen. He tore off the very bottom of the cup and squeezed the ice down until it protruded from the hole. He grabbed a clean dishtowel and returned to the living room. He chuckled as he saw Don lying facedown, sprawled across the couch.

"I surrender," the older man said with a grin.

"And I was so looking forward to handcuffing you," Charlie joked. He sat on the edge of the couch by Don's hips and spread the towel across his brother's bare back, just below the shoulders. He placed the ice on Don's shoulder and began lightly massaging the injured joint with slow, baseball sized circles.

"That's cold," Don mumbled grouchily as he tensed and couldn't suppress a shiver.

"It's ice, Don," Charlie laughed softly. "You expected it to be warm?"

"Ever hear of Icy Hot?" Don shot back.

Charlie just shook his head and smiled as he continued providing the ice massage. As he got closer and closer to the point of injury, he couldn't help but stare at the puncture wound. The flesh around the entry point was still slightly swollen, but the stitches had been removed and the once jagged hole was now just a faint circle of bright pink flesh as it healed. Doctor Jackson had told them – and Doctor Martinez had confirmed – that Don would probably always have scars at the entry and exit point of the arrow. Even though the wound itself was looking much better, the memories associated with it were as strong as ever for Charlie and he started to feel sick.

"You okay?" Don asked, bringing him back to the present.

"I, um..." He swallowed deeply and shook his head. "I don't feel too well all of a sudden."

"You want to talk about it?" Don asked very carefully.

"No," Charlie snapped. "The sooner you and Dad realize that, the better I'll be." He fought the urge to slam the ice in his hand to the floor, knowing it might break into pieces and hit Don. Instead, he set it on the coffee table and laid the towel over the still damp skin. "I'm sorry. You'll have to finish it yourself."

He stood and practically ran for the stairs, leaving his brother staring at him in open-mouthed shock.

--

He's under a lot of stress, Don repeated to himself for the tenth time in as many minutes. That's why he left me halfway through the massage to dry myself off and put on my sling. He forgot that I can't really do that one-handed. That's got to be it.

Don sighed as he pressed his face into the couch cushions. That may have explained his little brother's behavior, but that certainly didn't excuse him leaving Don to try and fend for himself.

"Donny?"

He looked up from the couch at the sound of his name and found his father standing by his side, grocery bags in hand. "Dad," he greeted wearily.

"Did Charlie just..." Alan gestured with a grocery bag, "...Leave you lying here?"

"Pretty much," he sighed.

His father's face flushed with anger. "Just wait until I find him-"

"Hold up, Dad," Don stopped him. "I think seeing the injury up close like that brought back some unpleasant memories."

"He's been doing this all week – ever since you got home – with no problems. Why now?"

"I could tell it was upsetting him then, too. I should have said something before now but it came to a head before I could."

"It still doesn't excuse what he did, leaving you like that." Alan set down the bags and sat in the same spot Charlie had occupied earlier. "How much longer on the massage?"

"About five minutes," Don said as he smiled thankfully.

The two men were silent as Alan finished his son's care. After the allotted time was up, he gently toweled Don's shoulder dry and eased him into a seated position. Retrieving the sling from where Don had tossed it earlier, Alan carefully slid it over his son's head and eased the injured limb into it. As he stood, he subtly caressed the side of Don's head. "You're in pain," he commented.

"I am," his eldest son agreed as he wiped the faint sheen of sweat from his forehead. "I wouldn't argue with a painkiller about now."

"Did you overdo it?" Alan asked sternly as he brought Don's prescription bottle to him.

"No, ten minutes on the dot. Charlie made sure of that." Don popped a pill and dry-swallowed it before giving his father a reproachful look. "He showed me my handcuffs, too."

Oh, Alan mouthed silently. "Well, I warned you that I wasn't above tying you down."

"So you did," Don sighed as he rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"Go ahead and grab a few winks," Alan told him softly. "I'll make us all some dinner."

Don yawned and let himself drift off, content in the knowledge that one of his father's superb meals would be waiting for him when he woke up.

TBC