Chapter Eighteen: I've Got the Scars to Prove It

"You do realize I can't take much more of this?"

Don had been lying with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the emergency room from behind curtain three. He opened his eyes to find his father standing at the foot of the bed.

"Dad? How'd you………."

With an look of dour exasperation, Alan cut him off.

"You've been down here for three hours getting your face stitched up and you don't think to send somebody up to tell me?"

"Dad…"

"You're right here…in this hospital, where I'm already at, and you don't think I'd want to know that you're in the emergency room?"

"Dad…."

Alan's voice grew louder and louder as he continued his rant.

"Megan comes upstairs to see Charlie and after hooing and hawing for ten minutes finally says, oh by the way…Don's down in the emergency room with his face busted up. And you think I wouldn't want to know about that?"

Don cut in quickly before his father could go on.

"You've got enough to worry about with Charlie and I……."

"I Have Two Sons, Donnie."

He bit off his words one at a time and Don was taken aback by the conviction openly displayed on his father's face as he continued speaking.

"It Doesn't Matter. Never Do That Again."

Alan took a deep breath and concluded in a softer tone.

"Never 'not' tell me. I am the first phone call you make. I am the first phone call anyone makes."

It took Don a moment to find his voice, blown away by the furious love his father's anger had displayed.

"Okay. I'm…I'm sorry, Dad. I…I wasn't thinking."

Flattening the sheet at the foot of the bed, Alan leaned against the edge of the mattress and stared at the floor.

"When you left here tonight….you scared me, Donnie."

Carefully watching his father's profile through his swollen eyelid, Don nodded in agreement.

"I scared myself."

"I really thought if you found him that you would………"

"So did I."

As much as it pained him to confess this, Don found it was a great relief to admit, out loud, what he had intended to do.

Alan turned and put his hand on Don's knee.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Don found himself suddenly reminded of why he had moved back to Los Angeles in the first place. Together, they were strong. Together, they had survived up until now. And together, they would all get through this.

He reached out and took his father's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I will be, Dad. Eventually. I will be."

Speaking still sent pain radiating across the left side of his face; despite the pain killers they had given him before they sent him down for a CT scan, and Don couldn't hide a grimace from the discomfort.

Alan stood back up. No longer displaying anger, his face radiated with concern for his oldest son.

"How bad is it, Donnie?"

Don spoke through his teeth this time, trying not to move his jaw.

"It's okay, Dad. It's not as bad as it looks."

Looking skeptical, Alan leaned forward to take a closer look at the row of stitches across Don's cheek.

"If you could see it, you wouldn't say that."

Wondering if he should have asked for a mirror, Don watched his father's anxious expression.

"Ok then. Maybe it is as bad as it looks."

"It isn't."

The curtains parted and a regal looking Hispanic woman in a white lab coat entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Eppes. They told me you were here."

She had turned to Alan and extended her hand.

"I guess I should say good morning, now."

Alan gave her a genuine smile and shook her hand warmly.

"It's not morning till the sun comes up. Doctor…?"

"Gamble. Doctor Gamble."

Opening the chart in her hands she turned back to Don.

"I've just finished looking over the results of your CT scan and you'll be pleased to know that my initial diagnosis was confirmed and you are going to live."

She paused to give him a charming smile full of white teeth.

"You'll be living with a headache for a while, but nevertheless…….."

Reading over the notes that various nurses and techs had left on the chart, she continued explaining his prognosis.

"It looks like you do have a mild concussion. We'll have to follow up with your right arm after the swelling goes down to check for any lasting nerve damage, but nothing is broken and I'm confident that the numbness will fade as the inflammation dissipates. You do, however, have a hairline fracture across your left cheekbone. I hate to be right about that, but it's better than the possible alternatives. Unfortunately, there is not much we can do about that except give it time to heal."

She looked at Alan again.

"We were afraid there would be some fragmentation, but it looks like your son lucked out."

Don snorted in an attempt not to laugh at her optimism.

"You call eighteen stitches 'lucking out'?

Giving him an appraising look, she chuckled.

"Don't worry, Agent Eppes. Scars give you character."

"Oh, He's got plenty of that without any extra scars."

Alan's interjection was met with another laugh from Dr. Gamble.

"From the fan club in the lobby, I wouldn't doubt it."

She gestured toward the front doors.

"It looks like we're collecting law enforcement officers out there. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear you'll be back on the job in no time."

Giving them both a congenial smile, she continued with her evaluation.

"You may experience some dizziness or insomnia…..but that should fade after the first twenty four to forty eight hours. I'll write up something for you to help with the headache. But that shouldn't remain too severe."

She stopped and stared at Don for a moment before she continued.

"What you need to do, Agent Eppes, is go home and get some rest."

Alan scoffed loudly and she smiled.

"Yes, I expected that might be a problem."

Much to his father's surprise, Don shook his head slowly.

"No ma'am. No problem. I'm to tired to fight about it. I just need to stop upstairs for a minute before I go."

She nodded, having fully expecting this development.

"One of your agents briefed me on your family's situation when they brought you in, Agent Eppes. I've already got someone to take you up to your brother's room while we get your discharge papers in order."

She stepped outside the curtain and returned a few minutes later with a wheelchair and Special Agent Colby Granger.

"Our orderly is busy at the moment. Will he do?"

Colby grinned over her shoulder.

"I had to win two rounds of paper, rock, scissors to get this job."

Allowing himself a small smile, Don cut his eyes at his father.

"Dad?"

"Go ahead, Donnie. I'll get your paperwork taken care of."

Alan turned to Colby.

"Don't let him stay up there long. And try not to wake Charlie. I'll go ahead and pull the car around to the front exit."

Colby replied with a rigorous salute.

"Yes, Sir."

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When the door to his room opened and the light from the hallway passed over his face, Charlie pulled himself out of the state of semi-consciousness that he had been hovering in. The sound of a moving chair made him realize someone had entered the room, and he lifted his head slightly, searching for the culprit.

"Don? Dad?"

There was no reply and Charlie felt his breath catch in this throat.

"Who's 'ere?"

The light from the various machines that surrounded his bed gave off enough illumination that Charlie could make out a figure maneuvering around the chairs in the room.

For a moment, Charlie thought his heart might actually stop…..again. But the steady, although increased, rhythm on the beeping monitor lead him to believe he was no longer in danger of that killing him. He was more worried about the sinister figure he could see milling around the foot of his bed.

He was still woozy from his last dose of Morphine and for a moment Charlie was afraid he was hallucinating.

Or he hoped he was hallucinating, he wasn't really sure which posed the greater threat.

"Leave the light off."

A whispered voice cut through the darkness that filled the room and a shiver ran down Charlie's spine. He was suddenly reminded of a moment some time ago when he was in the darkness of his garage and another voice made a similar demand.

"Whadda you want?"

Trying not to sound like a doped up invalid was a challenge, but Charlie thought he had managed it. He felt around the bed trying to find the nurses' call button as he continued to speak.

"I don't know what you think you're doing…………."

"Hey. Chill, Dude."

Another voice, so there were at least two of them.

"It's okay. We just don't wanna turn on the light."

The third voice was familiar.

"Marcus?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. I know you're not supposed to have visitors except for family, but these guys wanted to talk to you and………."

The other two young men stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a memory was stirred. The metro. The earthquake. They had both been there too. One of them cut Marcus off mid sentence.

"We wanted to say something to ya, man. The feds….."

Interjecting on his behalf, it was Marcus' turn to interrupt.

"It's Mr. Eppes."

"What?"

His face barely visible in the dim light, the other young man's annoyance was evident. But Marcus maintained his position.

"You need to call him Mr. Eppes. Or Professor."

The other young man laughed loudly and poked Marcus in the shoulder.

"What? What happened to 'mathman', huh?"

"I told you George, if I brought you two up in here, you were gonna be respectful."

The first young man exhaled in exasperation and turned to Marcus shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay. Jeez, Marc."

Turning back to Charlie, he changed his tone.

"Um, Professor. We wanted to say something to you."

Turning back to Marcus, he got a nod of approval.

"I know you been helping my bro with school, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continued.

"When he found out what happened with you…..When they all found out what happened with you, we decided we'd take care of it. I'm his brother, right? So I was gonna…Take care of it, you know."

Charlie's mind was still reeling with the quirkiness of this situation and he barely registered the young man's words. Why would Marcus drag two gangsters into his hospital room and then tell them to be nice to him? He tried to clear his throat and pose a question.

"What do you……."

But the young man who was speaking didn't let him finish.

"I'm talking."

"Rico."

Marcus, his great defender, interjected again.

"Okay….DUDE."

He shot Marcus an ugly look. This young man was obviously not accustomed to being corrected under any circumstances…..but for some reason, God only knew why, he was taking it from Marcus.

"Okay."

After a moment, he continued.

"What I'm saying is this. See. Jay….that's my brother…..he was real proud of what he learned from you at the center. Real proud. When Ms. Rawlings said you was shot….he cried. He's thirteen years old for Christ's sake and it make him cry."

He turned to George as if passing the torch and he began talking where Rico had left off.

"So, like he said. We were gonna take care of it."

"Oh…okay."

Charlie stared at them in shock.

"You mean….you were going to……kill someone….because of what happened to me?"

Charlie wasn't sure he had heard them right and he was getting even more confused than he had been. Since he was dosing up on Morphine every time the machine reset itself, that wasn't hard to do and he had to concentrate hard on each word.

"I don't know what….."

"Yeah. That's right. So, we're there, right? And the feds show up and take the 13th's whole crew down before we can get organized."

He paused and stepped even closer to the bed.

"What we wanna ask you is…..why'd they do that?"

Charlie suddenly felt a shock wave of panic as he remembered the last time Marcus had brought someone to see him that just 'wanted to ask him a question'.

"I don't…..I don't know?"

Rico spoke up again.

"Did the feds know we were comin'?"

Charlie found himself actually shaking with fear. He couldn't allow himself to believe that Marcus had, once again, managed to put him in a situation like this.

"I…I don't know."

"Rico. You're freakin' him out."

At Marcus' statement, the young man backed away from the bed, his expression sheepish in the dim light.

"Sorry, man. I mean…Mr. Eppes. I didn't mean it that way."

George cleared his throat and continued Rico's attempt to explain.

"That's right. It's just we found what kind of shit's been going down in our neighborhood thanks to the 13. We ain't no angels, but we don't sell our sisters you know?"

Despite the fact that he really didn't know, Charlie nodded his head in agreement.

"So when we found out what happened to your brother, we just wanted to come in and say how sorry……."

"What?"

The young man's words cut through Charlie like a hot knife through butter as he tried to find the way to the top of the drug induced buzz that still clouded his mind.

"Something happened to Don?"

Marcus recognized the panic in Charlie's voice and he stepped up close to the bed.

"Hey. It's cool. We thought you knew. He's ok. Just got messed up a little."

Charlie's eyes were wide and frightened.

"Messed up?"

"Not bad. From what I heard."

"What you heard?"

Rico laughed and he slapped Marcus on the shoulder.

"I don't think you're helping Marc."

"Shut up, Rico."

"Get out."

Charlie's voice had gone from timid and scared to loud and forceful and it caught the group of young men by surprise.

"Get. Out."

Marcus offered a reassuring smile.

"It's all good, man. You know my friends, Rico and George."

Charlie shook his head as frantically has his doped up body would allow.

"I'm still remembering what happened the last time you brought somebody to see me, Marcus. I still haven't gotten the blood stains off of my driveway from where one of your 'friends' shot my brother."

Looking stunned at the accusation, Marcus crossed his arms.

"That's not fair, Mr. Eppes."

"Not fair?"

Charlie's eyes were flashing as he turned on Marcus.

"Not fair is watching someone you care about take a bullet. Not fair is being helpless to stop it. NOT FAIR is knowing that it was all my fault to begin with because I wanted to help YOU!"

A chilled silence filled the space that Charlie's words had left in the room.

Exhausted from his outburst, tears of anger streaming down his cheeks, Charlie fell back onto his pillow.

"You should probably leave now, Marcus."

Suddenly stuck with the staggering realization of his own foolishness, Marcus nodded his head at his two friends and they started for the door.

At the same time, the door swung open and a large man with light brown hair backed into the room, pulling a wheelchair in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Colby spotted the three young men moving toward the door. Letting go of Don's wheelchair he spun quickly around, his hand moving to his holstered weapon.

"Hey!"

"It's okay, Colby."

Charlie's voice was shaking and from that alone, Colby presumed that things were not 'okay'.

Leaving his hand hovering over his sidearm, Colby flipped on the overhead light with the other hand and turned to look at his boss' younger brother, keeping the three young men in his field of vision.

"What's going on here, Charlie?"

Don had turned himself around despite the limited use of his right arm and wheeled further into the room behind Colby. He looked from the tear streaked face of his thirty year old brother to the hurt and woeful expression on the face of a seventeen year old kid. The incredible need to protect and defend his brother was so strong, Don actually felt it like a sonic wave radiating over him.

"Charlie? Are you alright?"

Lifting his hand to wipe off his face, Charlie slowly nodded his head in affirmation. Don turned to the three teenagers who had invaded his brother's room.

"Marcus? What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are they doing in here?"

The young man looked monumentally embarrassed and a little bit scared of the wrath in Don's voice. He stared at the floor for a moment before he tried to answer.

"They wanted…..they just wanted to say thank you…that's all. For what you guys did tonight. For taking out the 13th. I thought it would be okay, I didn't realize……."

The two fellows who where with him looked ready to make a break for the door. It appeared that the hospital's security system and state of the art metal detectors had done their jobs and these boys had all come calling without their customary array of weapons. And Colby's badge and gun, displayed openly on his belt, were making them both appear very nervous.

Don shook his head in disbelief and turned his eyes to the young man with whom he had shared a heart to heart talk with less than forty eight hours ago.

"What the hell? Why would you do that, Marcus? Why would you bring them here? After everything that happened?"

Rico took a step forward, but backed off when Colby took a step to meet him. Turning back to Marcus, he tried to answer for him.

"He's our brother man. And we asked him to. He's still one of us."

But much to everyone's surprise, Marcus adamantly shook his head.

"No. Rico. No. I'm not. Don't you understand? After what happened with Jose…and Roberto. Didn't you hear anything I told you then?"

"What are you saying, man?"

Rico gave him an indicative look.

"We've pledged our allegiance to this gang, man. We all did. Together. We've sworn an oath."

With a deep sigh, Marcus plopped down into the chair that Alan had left by the window.

"What is it that we've sworn an oath to? I thought I knew. When we all stepped onto that subway last summer. I thought I knew. Now…I don't even know what exactly is it that we're claiming."

George looked at Marcus as if he had made the most absurd statement he had ever heard.

"Commonalities, man. The same allies. The same enemies."

Marcus didn't reply, but instead put his head in his hands.

Despite his anger at the young man for endangering Charlie, yet again, Don found himself feeling sorry for him as he watched him floundering…trying to stand up to his friends. Don looked at the two young men who had accompanied Marcus on this late night visit.

"Allies and Enemies, huh? Do you even know who your allies are? Who your enemies are?"

"We know who our enemies are."

Rico shifted his head at Marcus.

"And so does he."

The mental, physical and emotional torment of the past three days had reached a boiling point inside of Charlie and despite the narcotic fog that seemed to be ever present in his mind, he found himself thinking more clearly than he had since the first shot had been fired in that courtroom.

"No."

Charlie's voice was weedy and trembling, but his tone was determined.

"You're claiming allegiance to something and you don't even realize that your enemies are allegiant to exactly the same things. True enemies should have no common loyalties."

Rico, looking offended at the professors statement, interposed.

"We don't. We don't claim the same shit, man. They don't believe in what we believe in."

Charlie's voice grew steadier as he balked at the young man's declaration.

"Don't fool yourself. It's all the same. 13th or 18th. Crips or Bloods. You all do the same thing. You are all exactly the same. You kill each other. That is your common ground. Death. Violence and death and destroying people's lives. Violence is the common ground you all stand on."

Rico shifted his eyes to Marcus.

"What about honor, man? You made a promise."

Marcus stood and walked toward Charlie's bed, physically choosing to take sides.

"Honor? There's no honor is this, Rico. I don't know about you. But my dreams don't consist of talking to my brother from behind bars and I sure as shit don't want to spend the rest of my life having to ask permission to use the bathroom."

The room was silent for a moment and then Marcus continued.

"I can do more than this, man. I want to do more than this. And this guy. He showed me that I could. That I can. I really thought that if you guys met him again….maybe got to know him the way Frankie and I have. Hell, the way Jay has…then….I thought maybe then you'd understand."

Rico stood and indicated to his friend with a nod of his head that they were leaving.

"Whatever you do is cool with me, Marc. But don't expect anyone else to understand. They never will. And don't expect to come back."

Marcus swallowed hard and took a deep breath before answering.

"I won't. I won't need to."

When the two young men headed for the door, this time Colby stepped aside and allowed them to pass.

Marcus turned back to Charlie.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just wanted them to know. I wanted to try to show them why I was leaving…that's all. I thought I could make them understand."

With a half-smile, the young man walked towards the door.

"Marcus?"

The exit of Rico and his partner seemed to extinguish Charlie's adrenaline rush and his voice was again weak and thready.

"If you're serious….about leaving the gang? If you really meant what you said. Then try coming back later. When I'm….when I've had some time, okay? Try coming back then and we can talk about it."

A hopeful smile spread over Marcus' face.

"I will. Thank you."

As he headed out the door past Colby, he nodded at Don.

"Goodnight, Agent Eppes. I'm glad you're okay."

"We'll see you around, Marcus."

Once the young man was gone, Colby stepped up and closed the door behind him.

Don took a deep breath when Charlie turned his soulful brown eyes to his battered face.

"He said you got hurt? I thought you were….……"

Charlie exhaled loudly and let his head fall back on his pillows.

"God, they scared the crap out of me."

Charlie lifted his head back up and Don could see a new wave of tears springing up in his weary eyes.

"What happened to you? Don? Are you okay?"

With a sigh, Don leaned back into the wheelchair.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Buddy."

Charlie released a nervous laugh as he fought to maintain his composure.

"God, I hope not. 'sides, I'm not sure Dad could take much more of this."

Despite the pain it radiated across his jaw line, Don couldn't help but smile at his younger brother. It had been almost seventy two hours since the bullet from a thirty eight special had almost ended his life……since another bullet had changed the course of their dual reality.

And in customary Charlie fashion, he was worried about their father…and about him. Don watched Charlie's tired face. As seemed to be the norm, he was again having trouble keeping his eyes open as he waited for Don to tell him what had happened.

"It's okay now, Buddy. Just get some rest, okay? I'll be back in the morning and we can talk about it, then."

Charlie managed a dismal smile before his eyes closed. Don watched him for several minutes before he turned, looking over his shoulder at Colby.

The younger agent's face was screwed up in a bewildered, yet reverent expression and he was shaking his head.

"He's really something else."

"Yeah."

Don nodded and sighed as he turned his wheelchair toward the door.

"He really is."

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Chapter Nineteen: From Whence We Came