Also, to those of you who pointed out that I was making Charlie weak, I took no offense in your opinions. I just wrote that in to explain why Charlie was being weak so it could help you understand why I was doing it. Thank you for caring enough to give open, honest opinions and not in a rude manner.

Don's POV

I turned to Dad, a look of surprise on my face. What was going on?

"Larry and Charlie fighting? I didn't think that was possible."

"They said the same thing about Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis," Dad chuckled.

"What could Larry have done to make Charlie snap? I mean, it's unusual enough that he snapped at anyone, but Larry?"

"I don't know either, son. I just hope he'll get back to his normal self soon."

I nodded in agreement. Charlie was scaring me with the way he had been acting lately.

"Dad, I think I'm going to head over to my place for a little while, okay? I'll be back in time for supper, though."

"Okay. You spending the night here again?"

"I think so."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Dad."

I went out the door and got into my SUV. I drove home silently, the windows rolled down.

When I got to my apartment, I went inside and headed straight to the shower to clean up. When I was finished, I went into my room and took out a duffel bag to pack a few clothes in case I ended up staying longer at Dad and Charlie's house.

I was walking to the kitchen when I was hit hard with what had happened to Charlie.

It was the first time since before Charlie was taken that I was alone with my thoughts. Now, my mind was not a safe place to be, especially not when I'm alone.

The weight of what could have been hit me like a ton of bricks. I grabbed a chair from my kitchen table and sat down, no shirt on and hair still dripping wet.

Charlie could have been killed. He should have been. If I were Charlie, I could tell myself what the statistics were that he should be dead. But he's alive.

Images of past kidnapping cases flashed in my mind. Most ended in tragedy. Few had happy endings. I pictured the photos of the victims of Carl Waits and I felt a shiver run through me. Charlie was lucky. Yes, Charlie was very lucky indeed.

How could I have let that happen to Charlie? How could I be so wrapped up in my work that I didn't even see Charlie taken out from under my nose? What kind of brother couldn't see his brother was in danger? I'm an FBI agent! I should have known. I should have sensed it. But I let emotions and concentration get out of the way. I couldn't just step back and see that Charlie had needed me, and I wasn't there for him.

I was a horrible brother.

Charlie's POV

I was surprised when I went back downstairs and Don wasn't there.

I went into the kitchen to ask Dad where he was.

"Hey, Dad, where's Don?"

"He went back to his apartment. He said he'd be here for supper, though."

"Oh."

Dad turned from the phone.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No. I guess I've gotten enough today."

"You sure it's not something on your mind? You know I'm all ears."

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad, but I'm fine. Really."

Except for those near-panic attacks you've had lately.

"Okay. Supper should be ready within the half hour."

I went back out to the living room and stretched out on the couch.

I was close to dozing off when Don came through the front door.

I looked up at him and saw the tension and fear. What had happened?

"Don? Everything okay?" I asked.

He walked through the room, ignoring me, and went into the kitchen. He returned a minute later, already drinking from a can of beer. What could have happened in those few short hours?

When he sat down in the recliner, I watched him as he drank his beer. He chugged it in no time and then squeezed the can in his hand.

"Don? What's wrong?" I asked. He completely ignored me once again as he got up for another beer.

I heard Dad ask, "Already?" and Don responded, "The last one spilled."

Like hell it did.

He sat down on the recliner, this time carrying two cans of beer. He'll end up being drunk before supper.

When he finally set his latest can down, not empty yet, I moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing him.

"Donnie? What's wrong?"

He wouldn't look at me. He stared past me at the tv.

I shook his knee, getting his attention.

"Don, come on. Talk to me. What happened?"

Don finally looked at me and I was scared to find tears in his eyes.

We just sat there, staring at each other. After a few minutes had past, Don surprised me by lunging forward and gathering me in a fierce hug that stole the wind from my lungs.

I hugged Don back, not sure why he was doing it. Suddenly, I heard Don begin to cry and I tightened my grip.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," He said, his voice muffled against my shirt.

Dad walked in to find us like that. He nearly dropped the pan of spaghetti he was holding. He regained his composure and set the food on the table. Then he rushed over.

"Donnie? What's the matter?" He asked, shaking Don's shoulders.

I looked over Don's shoulder and met Dad's worried gaze. I gave him a look that showed the shared confusion.

Dad tried to pull Don off of me as he saw me struggle to breathe.

"Don, let go," Dad admonished. Don just held on tighter and I couldn't draw a breath.

"Don, you're strangling him." That got his attention.

Don let go and I took in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Don whispered when I looked back at him.

I saw him fight to stop the tears and soon he succeeded. He wiped at his eyes, Dad and I still watching him with concern.

"What brought this on, Donnie?" Dad asked as he rubbed circles on Don's back.

"It's silly really," Don said, looking embarrassed.

"I sincerely doubt that."

"It just... it hit me, you know? What could have happened and how I would have just let it. I should have listened to you, Charlie. I should have protected you from this, but I didn't. I'm so sorry, Buddy."

Dad smiled, relief evident on his face. I still stared at Don, surprised by his show of emotion and how he admitted his true feelings.

"I just don't want to lose you, Buddy," Don said, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.

It was my turn to jump into the arms of my brother. I hugged him tightly around the waist, thankful there wasn't anything wrong.

"I'm right here, Don," I said as I hugged him tightly.

Don fought back tears once more, but was able to regain his composure.

When we parted, it was Dad's turn to hug Don.

"Donnie boy, when are you going to learn that not everything is your fault?" Dad asked as he hugged Don tightly to his chest.

Don sniffled, then sat back.

"I think we'd better go get some food before it gets cold. How's that sound?" Dad suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Don said, his voice sounding more controlled and normal.

I smiled and stood.

Don put a hand on my back as we went to the table to eat. Dad served up our food and then he sat down. We sat in our usual places: Dad at the head of the table, Don at his right, me at his left. And we were right where we needed to be... together.