Chapter Thirteen: The Other Side of Death's Door

When Don and Megan stepped into the trauma center's waiting room, Alan was nowhere to be seen. Megan started across the room and it took Don a minute to realize she was heading for Larry, who was sitting alone by the window. The physics professor was lost in his own thoughts and when Megan grabbed his shoulder he nearly fell out of the chair.

"Oh my word. Megan. You startled me."

When he spotted Don standing behind her, he quickly stood.

"Don. They just took your father upstairs. They're moving Charles from recovery to the ICU."

Larry scarcely had time to finish his sentence before Don was in the hall and heading for the elevator. Megan reached over and took his hand.

"Come on. Let's get some coffee."

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Alan was standing by the nurses' station speaking to a man in a crisp white lab coat. When the man shook his hand and walked away, Alan turned and leaned heavily against the counter for support. Don felt a sharp pang of guilt for allowing himself to be overcome with his fury and controlled by his emotions. Alan should never have had to be alone for this……..to hear whatever it was the doctor had just told him.

Don approached his father quietly. He didn't know if he should speak. Megan had explained to him everything the trauma surgeon had told his father. It had been almost unbearable to hear. To imagine Charlie as anything other than the genius he had always been. Once again, Don felt the anger he was working so hard to contain make a break for the surface. He had to control himself. He had to be here now. For his father. For Charlie.

When Alan turned his head and spotted Don standing in the hallway, he felt his breath catch in his throat. When their eyes met, Don looked away. Unable to find the words that he needed to say, Alan wrapped his arms around his oldest son, pulling him close. After a few moments Don returned the embrace.

Both men remained silent.

Words would only get in the way, as they so often had done.

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Lights.

Faces.

Now darkness.

Voices.

Noises.

Where was he?

What had happened?

No answers.

Just a heavy tingling numbness.

It covered everything.

"Charlie."

A familiar voice.

His own name.

He tried to speak.

To respond.

But something was in the way.

He wanted to fight whatever was holding his voice hostage.

But he couldn't even find the strength to open his own eyes.

"How is he?"

Don?

"He's alive. We won't know anything else until he wakes up."

Dad?

"Megan said…the doctor thought he might not….."

Might not what?

"I can't think that way, Donnie. I won't."

Might not what? What way?

"I'm not……I don't want to…..Dad….I just…….I watched him die. I can't……I'm not sure I can do this."

I'm here, Don. I'm still here.

"I'm not sure I can either, son."

He knew his voice was somewhere beyond whatever was making it so hard for him to swallow. So hard for him to breathe.

And just so hard to stay awake.

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Don had known it was going to be difficult. But he never imagined anything like this. He had been sitting here staring at what was supposed to be his brother for just over an hour. Right now he looked more like a cyborg. The tubes. The wires. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant inhale/exhale rhythm of the ventilator.

"He's on life support?"

"Well……….just a ventilator. To help him breathe until we can determine if he will be able to do it again on his own."

"He stopped breathing?"

"Respiratory distress isn't uncommon with severe hypovolemic shock."

If it hadn't been for the mop of dark curly hair sticking out of the top of everything else, he might never have believed it was Charlie.

He was wrapped almost head to toe in warming blankets. The shiny silver lining of the blankets only added to the mechanical appearance of Charlie's body.

"Hypothermia is a major issue right now. We have to continue to infuse him as rapidly as possible. We're warming the fluids, but his core body temperature isn't coming back up. And right now he isn't capable of regulating it."

The nurse kept coming in and each time Don had a new question. He knew she thought that he should leave. They didn't allow lengthy visits in the ICU. She had explained that. And Don had ignored it. So far they still hadn't sent in anyone with the balls to argue with him. After all, he had a gun.

"We have his blood pressure back up. That's a really good sign. And his kidneys appear to be functioning normally. He's stable now, but the next twenty four hours will be critical. I can't give you any guarantees, Agent Eppes. His blood oxygen level was so low….for so long…….."

Looking around the room, Don was amazed at how clean everything was.

And how white. White walls. White floors. Everything was clean and white. The intensive care unit itself had no windows to the outside and the lights had all been dimmed for the night. The hallway was dark and Don could see lightening illuminate the passage through the open curtains from the windows down the hall.

"You really should see this."

It took him a minute to realize he had spoken…out loud. To Charlie.

After a moments pause, he decided to continue. Maybe it would help.

It couldn't hurt…..and it might drown out the unspoken thoughts that were rolling around in his own mind.

"I sent Dad home. More like I had Larry and Megan drag him home….oh, and Larry called Amita. He thought she'd want to know. From what he said I gather she was pretty upset. You should have seen him. He was afraid you'd be angry with him….the way you and she left things when she took that job and…..…..."

He had started to ramble and frantically searched his mind for something else to say as he listened to the steady hum of the ventilator.

"I had to promise Dad I'd call if you so much as twitched a muscle. But he needs to get some rest. I don't imagine he'll be leaving for a while once he gets back here."

Don stood and stepped up to the bedside, standing over his brother and carefully examining his still face.

"God, Charlie. You can't just give up. You've never been a quitter. It's just not in your nature to give up that easily."

He reached out and brushed a wayward curl off Charlie's forehead.

"You listen to me. I'm not giving you a choice here, Buddy. Wake your ass up. Open up your eyes and look at me."

He waited for minute. When there was no response, Don pulled the chair up behind him and sat back down, staying close to the edge of the bed.

"I can't do this without you, you know."

He said it before he had even completed the thought and hearing the words come out of his own mouth had a disconcerting effect on his heart rate. He felt his unruly emotions rising to the surface, but he continued to talk to his unconscious brother.

"I can't get through this…….not alone. Not without both of you. Come on, Charlie."

"Agent Eppes?"

Don reacted as if the quiet, soft voice had been a gunshot. He bolted to his feet and turned to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

"Sir, I'm sorry. We have a few things we need to do in here, if you don't mind waiting outside?"

"I do mind."

He turned his back to her and sat back down in the chair next to Charlie's bed.

"Ok, let me try this. We're changing shifts in about ten minutes. If you come back then, they'll never know you were here and you can start scaring the pants off of the midnight crew."

"I…."

She didn't let him finish.

"We'll call you right away if anything changes. You really should go home."

Don shook his head and spoke firmly.

"I can't do that."

She tried to sound sympathetic and authoritative at the same time.

"The couches in the lounge are also very comfortable, Agent Eppes. You should at least try to get some rest."

This one was determined. Very determined. And if she was intimidated, she didn't let it show. Giving in, Don nodded and pulled himself to his feet again. Casting one more glance at Charlie, he silently obeyed.

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Leaning back onto the vinyl couch in the small lounge, Don closed his eyes. But sleep seemed to be an impossible dream.

Nothing seemed important right now.

And then everything seemed important.

He didn't need to go home. If he went home and climbed into that bed, the bed he had shared with her, he would never get out of it again.

If he went home, he would get the bottle of vodka out of the freezer and drink the whole thing.

If he went home, he wouldn't be able to keep the tears at bay. And once he allowed himself to cry, Don was afraid he would never stop.

He felt like the whole world was suddenly shifting and he was in terrible danger of falling off.

Robin was gone and Charlie might never be the same.

Don opened his eyes again and glanced out of the window in the lounge. It was raining again. Don could see the fat drops as they hit the window and drew lines down the pane. Lighting flashed and a low lingering peal of thunder rolled across the sky.

Robin was dead.

How could anything else possibly matter?

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Authors Notes: As always; thank you so, so much for your comments!

Chapter Fourteen: Out of the Heart of Darkness