Chapter Fifteen: And How is This Fair?

When Charlie opened his eyes a striking woman with flaming red hair, all pulled up into a tight bun, was standing next to the bed. When she noticed he was awake, her serious face broke into a smile.

"Well, hi there. My name is Allie. I'll be taking care of you tonight."

She turned away from the bed and checked the machine that constantly monitored his blood pressure, flipping through the readings from the last shift.

"Looking good so far. How are you feeling? I hear you had quite a day."

Unsure what she meant by that statement, Charlie stared at the woman as she continued to check his vitals. His surroundings had changed dramatically since the last time he had opened his eyes and an overwhelming sense of disorientation set his heart pounding.

"'er am I?"

His voice was hoarse and he could barely get the words out. They sounded weak and slurred, even in his own ears.

"Mr. Eppes. You've been moved to a private room."

Charlie tried to sit up and quickly realize that was a mistake. He had been almost unaware of the dull ache in his side and the attempt to set up without support sent it spiraling into a sharp shooting pain that took his breathe away.

Allie lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

"Hang on there. If you want to sit up, I can lift the head of the bed for you a little bit. But you need to remain still for a while longer, Mr. Eppes."

She lowered him back down flat and began to use the hydraulic lift on the bed to raise it into a semi-sitting position.

Charlie tried to relax his body, but as his eyes took in the room and the fog that clouded his mind began to slowly clear, he realized something was missing. Someone was missing. Don had been there, in the other room…the white room.

Don. Oh God. As if reliving it again for the first time, Charlie could see Robin's face. The terror in her eyes. The knowledge that she was about to die. And he had just sat there. She had died defending him and he was unable to do anything to save her. Completely helpless. Even knowing that he, himself, had been dying didn't alleviate the guilt that tore through him.

But Don had been there…..in the courtroom. Don had held his hand. He could remember that part. Then things just kind of faded out and there was nothing else until he woke up in that white room. Today, Yesterday, Last week?

The drug induced haze from the pain medication was slowly wearing off and Charlie had furrowed his brow trying to pull his scattered thoughts into some kind of order.

The nurse, Allie, watched the distress brewing behind his eyes.

"Mr. Eppes, if you're in pain, you'll need to push this button."

He shook his head frantically as she tried to hand him the device.

"Where………?"

She answered his question before he could ask it.

"Your father and brother are just outside the door, they've been here all day. Right now they're talking to the doctor. Your sixteen hour nap had them a little concerned. They'll be right back."

Don was coming back. Dad was here.

And he was alive.

But Robin was dead.

How could Don ever forgive him for that?

Charlie leaned back into the pillows and allowed the tears that had been accumulating in his eyes to roll down his cheeks.

How could he ever forgive himself for that?

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Doctor Cyrus Harper crossed his arms and summoned up his best bedside manner. After Charlie's initial outburst of combative behavior, the young man had yet to regain consciousness and it was making his family nervous. It hadn't quite been two full days since he had been brought to the UCLA trauma center and in all honestly this was usually when he got to do the part of the job he hated. Telling a family that their child, their husband, wife or what have you, would never fully recover. This was supposed to be the easy part….when things went better than expected. But this guy's older brother, a federal agent of all things, didn't seem ready to buy it. He almost seemed to be looking for a reason to remain despondent.

"I'm as amazed as you are, Mr. Eppes. We are pleasantly surprised by these test results. But I'm not going to patronize you. As mass blood transfusions go; there is always the chance of infection. And just like an organ transplant his body could choose to reject the cells or treat them as invaders. Almost like an allergic reaction. But it's been almost thirty six hours and we've yet to see any severe outward symptoms of the usual complications. This doesn't mean we are totally out of the woods yet and there is still the initial injury to consider. Charlie has a very, very long road to recovery ahead of him. But he's already several steps ahead of what we had anticipated and his outlook is very good."

"Why hasn't he woke up again?"

Doctor Harper turned to look directly at Don and began with what he always used as the common response for when he honestly had no physical explanation. Blame psychology.

"Agent Eppes, I understand your brother went through a very traumatic event. Post Traumatic Stress is to be expected. He will need help to get through this. I can refer you to someone, if you don't….."

The patient's father interrupted him first before the other man could respond to his usual spiel.

"Yes, please. That would be a good idea."

At that moment, Allie, his favorite night nurse walked from Charlie's room. She was an attractive red headed woman and in that white nurses' uniform………… He rubbed the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand and sighed. She turned and gave him a grand smile.

"Doctor Harper, he's awake again. Still pretty out of it, and a little upset. But talking."

Alan headed for the door, followed closely by Dr. Harper, who paused for a moment to watch the red headed nurse walk down the hall. For reasons he was afraid to think about, Don hesitated.

He stood just outside the door and listened to his father's worried tones and the doctor's imposing tenor. And suddenly, Don was absolutely terrified of the thoughts that he found running through his mind. Charlie was really awake this time….shock and drugs no longer in complete control of him. And Don didn't want to hear what he knew Charlie would want to say to him.

"m sorry...couldn't help….her."

The recollection of Charlie's words as he lay dying sent a chill down his spine. Charlie had believed he was responsible for the way Robin had died……..that somehow, he could have done something…..that he should have at least tried to do something.

And as much as it agonized him to realize it, Don had wondered much the same thing. And the mere thought of holding Charlie at fault for the loss that weighed on his heart made him feel sick to his stomach.

But never-the-less the thought was there, right next his own guilt.

Right next to his own culpability.

Biting his lip, Don turned away from the door to his brother's room and headed for the stairs. He could not allow himself to blame his brother for this. The guy who had done it, the one who had pulled the trigger…..he was on a slab in the morgue. He hadn't deserved to get off that easily.

As Don took the stairs two at a time, he found himself wishing that the bastard had survived……..that his team had refrained from filling him full of lead.

So that he could kill him.

So that he could take this feeling that was consuming his soul and take it out on someone who deserved it.

But the man was dead and despite the things he kept telling himself, Don still felt the need to hold someone responsible.

Someone he could focus on, someone he could hate.

He didn't want that guy to be Charlie.

Charlie, who had done nothing wrong.

Charlie, who had almost lost his own life.

When he reached the top level, Don pushed open the door that lead onto the roof and walked out into the night. The air was hot………..humid…….and a sharp stinging rain continued to fall, pelting him in the face. The small platform outside the door was set up with a small table and a few standard folding chairs. From the mound of cigarette butts around the platform, Don easily deduced that this was where hospital personnel came to unwind.

Thanks to the excessive rainfall of the past two days the roof was predictably vacant. Puddles had accumulated in the seats of the chairs and Don tilted one to empty the water before he sat down. In moments his shirt and pants were soaked through. But Don remained seated, staring out over the city of Los Angeles.

The guy he could blame was out there……….somewhere. He still had to find that guy. Be it vengeance or justice, whatever happened when he got there….that guy was going to be sorry for what he had facilitated.

Maybe then he could look at his brother without wondering why it had been Robin that had taken the final bullet.

Don cursed himself as the idea manifested itself in his mind. And he felt the full weight of the guilt his thoughts had created. Charlie didn't deserve that from him. He already blamed himself and knowing Charlie, he would torment himself with that guilt without any help from him.

It had been just over thirty six hours since the longest day of his life had begun and to Don it seemed that no matter how many times the sun would rise and set, this day would never come to an end. And it was never going to stop raining.

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Alan sat next to Charlie's bed and watched his youngest son sleep…..if you wanted to call it sleep. In Alan's opinion, he was passed out cold. Charlie had remained silent, succumbing to sleep, shortly after Dr. Harper had convinced him to use the Morphine button. He had kept his eyes on the door until he could no longer hold them open. Alan rose from the chair and walked quietly across the room to the window, looking out into the darkness. He wanted so badly to be angry with Don for pulling a Houdini.

Charlie never asked for him and he never would. It was obvious from his behavior that he didn't feel he deserved to.

It had been almost two days and Don had yet to even mention Robin's name. The hurt and guilt in Charlie's eyes were almost more than Alan could bare and he knew that was Don's reason for leaving. The nurse had said that Charlie was fully conscious, albeit a little out of it from the drugs he was on. But rather than deal with the self imposed guilt displayed plainly on his younger brothers face, Don had simply fled.

Alan lowered himself into the chair by the window. Don had never run from anything. It was in his nature to face things head on. To grab the bull by the horns and never let go. But a loss like this..……this kind of devastation……it was enough to drive any man over the edge.

It wasn't so long ago, that Alan had been in a similar position. Just because they knew it was coming hasn't made it any easier. Having time to say goodbye had only given him longer to dwell on how he was going to face life without her. How they were going to face life without her.

But Don had been their rock. Don had been the force that held them together. And now that force was falling apart.

And Alan felt completely helpless to stop it.

………………………………...

Alan had almost dozed off when a voice from the open doorway sent his heart racing.

"Is he asleep?"

When Alan nodded, Don walked quietly into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed to stare at his brother's sleeping form.

Taking in his drenched apparel, Alan didn't need to ask where Don had been. But that didn't stop him from wanting to hear the explanation.

"He was looking for you, you know. He kept his eyes open as long as he could."

"I just need some time, Dad."

The despair in Don's voice was heart wrenching, but he wanted his son to understand that he was not alone.

"Donnie, he needs….."

Don cut him off sharply.

"I'm not ready, okay? Don't you understand that?"

Alan stood and approached the bed.

"You know I do. And when you are ready….you know he'll listen. Just don't wait to long. He blames himself, Donnie. And……"

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!"

Don's raised voice echoed in the small room and Alan was taken aback by the ferocity in his tone. Swallowing hard, Alan stayed where he was watching his oldest son's shoulders as they began to shake.

Don kept his back to his father. But Alan could hear the mournful despair in his voice when he finally spoke again.

"Is it ever going to stop hurting?"

Stepping up next to Don, Alan put his arm around his shoulders.

"No. But it will fade. In time…….it will fade."

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Sitting in her overfilled office, Olivia Rawlings listened to the rain through the open window, as it drowned out the usual sounds of the city. Somewhere in the distance a single gun shot resounded through the night, bringing her head up. The community center wasn't in the best part of town, but that couldn't be helped. This was where it was needed. She had decided long ago, that made it worth the risk. Growing up here had made this more than just a job for her. It was a mission. One she was determined to follow to completion. Or until it killed her. It wasn't hard to determine which would come first.

It was well past the time when she normally would have locked up for the night but a visit from a group of the kids had left her shaken. Professor Eppes had become so important to those boys. It was hard enough for them when they lost one of their own. How was she supposed to tell them that one of the most violent gangs in LA was responsible for taking him away from them too?

She didn't allow them to wear their gang colors at the community center, but she knew what crews these older boys were pledged to. And she knew which crews the younger boys aspired to be a part of. Retaliation was a common word on these streets. It always had been. But she had heard it more than a few times today as the older boys played basketball. The 13th was the enemy. And they had waged war on the police…..on the government….and on anybody else who got in the way.

And according to the boys who had just left, the 18th wanted a piece of the action. They had been looking for a reason.

Well, they certainly had one now.

In eight simple weeks, Charlie Eppes had become a friend to more than a few of younger boys at the center. And those boys had older brothers too. They weren't FBI agents, quite the opposite in fact. But they sure as hell knew how to use a gun and wouldn't hesitate to use it on a member of the Mara 13. The reasoning behind it didn't matter. Violence wasn't the way……she knew that and had spend the last three years trying to convince the kids in this community of that. But somewhere deep inside her, Olivia hoped they would have done the same for her.

With a disconcerting sigh, she reached for her phone. She had told David long ago that in order to be effective with these kids they had to be able to trust her. She had even reamed him out once for asking her to compromise that position of trust.

But this was different. These boys….they were just children. Their brothers members of the 18th. They knew about Frankie and his older brother Marcus. They though he was brave. For doing the right thing. For telling the truth. These boys had heard details of a series of assaults being planned on the Mara 13th and they wanted to do the right thing. Perhaps not as boldly as Marcus and Frankie…but never-the-less, she had gotten through to them. And so had Charlie.

She looked at the list of locations she had jotted down. This was going to be a blood bath if someone didn't stop it. Maybe those boys knew that and that was why they had chosen to rat out their own brothers. The Mara 13 was dangerous, even to the well seasoned members of the 18th street gang. If the FBI was already onto these guys, they could wind up in the middle of an all out gang war.

She dialed David's number from memory and waited as the phone rang.

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A/N: Getting back to the action soon. Hope I've still got everybody.

Chapter Sixteen: Where Do We Go From Here?