Charlie closed his eyes and wished, not for the first time, that he could wake up and find out that this was all a bad dream. He took a deep breath and chastised himself for being so negative. Don needs you, he reminded himself. Snap out of it and be there for him.

He distracted himself by thinking back on the conversation he'd had with Megan after she'd left and returned to the office...

"How is he?" she asked, her exhaustion obvious even through the cell phone reception.

"Not good," he answered. "The doctor says that he's got two broken ribs, his right wrist is broken, his left shoulder is dislocated, and he's got some bad bruising on his kidneys."

"Oh, Charlie," she breathed. "Don's tough. He'll make it through this."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" she urged the younger man to continue.

"It's the head injury that's of the most concern. The doctor says it's pretty severe." Charlie paused as he gathered his strength. "Apparently Don woke up in the ER but didn't respond to the people around him. The doctor says that he might have just been dazed at the time, or it might be a sign of some sort of... brain damage." He listened to absolute silence as Megan tried to digest what he'd just told her.

"He'll be in our thoughts," she finally spoke. "When he does wake up, Charlie – and I mean, when – I need you to give me a call so we can get a statement from him."

"Okay," he agreed.

"And Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"We'll get the people responsible," she growled angrily. "You can count on that."

"Charlie?"

The younger man looked up as the sound of his father's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Dad?"

Alan opened his mouth but nothing came out. He remained silent for a moment as he studied Charlie's face. "Talk to him," he finally whispered.

"Me?" Charlie asked in shock. "What would I... I mean, what should I..."

"Anything, Charlie. It's your voice he needs – not the words."

"What about you?" the younger man asked.

"I'll take the next round." Alan smiled warmly. "Go on, Charlie."

The youngest Eppes nodded and looked down at his big brother's face. "So, Don..." His gaze swept across Don's forehead and he visibly winced at the thick, white bandaging that concealed the vicious head wound. "You can wake up now, you know. Right? You do know that?" He leaned closer to the bed and held his hand over Don's left, wanting so badly to make contact, but so afraid of hurting his brother any further. "Can you hear me, bro? Can you open your eyes?" Charlie glanced across the bed at his father, who nodded in encouragement.

"This is really hard, Don," he whispered as he returned his focus to the man in the bed. He held his breath and placed his hand against Don's cheek, relief coursing through his veins when his big brother didn't cry out and no alarm sounded. "You're the strong one – the one I turn to. I need you now, Don. I can't deal with this alone." Charlie placed his other hand on the edge of the bed and rested his chin on top of it. "The doctors say that you'll wake up, but..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice the horrible thought.

"You're doing good, Charlie."

The younger man nodded, his eyes never leaving Don's bruised face. "They say that there's a chance of brain damage. I told them you're too strong for that, but they won't listen to me. You need to wake up and show them. You know I can't stand it when people won't listen to me." His rubbed his fingers up and down along Don's cheek. "You know that firsthand, don't you? So quit teasing me with this and wake up."

The beeping from the heart monitor sped up just a fraction and Charlie beamed at his father. They both leaned over Don and watched in anticipation as the dark lashes slowly fluttered.

"Come on, Donny," Alan cheered. "You can do it."

"Wake up, Don," Charlie joined in. "We're here for you."

The injured man's eyes finally cracked open and his brown eyes slid aimlessly around the room before landing on Charlie. After a moment, recognition appeared in Don's gaze and he opened his mouth to speak. "Ch-char..."

"I'm right here, bro."

"Char... lie." Don licked his dry, parched lips. "Good."

"Yeah," the younger man smiled. "Everything's good now that you're awake."

The injured man opened his lips to speak again. "Don... bad."

Charlie cast his father a look of worry and confusion. "You're not bad, Don," he soothed him, confused as to why Don was speaking about himself in the third person.

"Pain," the injured man mumbled. "Don." He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but his eyes drifted shut and he lapsed back into a deep sleep.

Charlie gave his father a panicked look and knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Was Don suffering from brain damage? Charlie shook his head vehemently. "No," he stated, his voice loud and firm. "That's not possible."

"I hope to God you're right," Alan said as he pressed the call button to summon his son's doctor and nurse.

--

"Any word on Don's SUV?" Megan asked her coworker early the next morning.

"No," David sighed. "It's not here at the office, it's not at his apartment and it's not even in Charlie's neighborhood. I've got an APB out on it, but it's not looking too good at this point."

"Colby," she said as she swiveled her gaze to the other agent by her desk. "Anything new on the crime scene?"

"They're running the DNA on the blood," he said. "Of course Don's isn't in the system even if that is his blood on the glass."

"Right," Megan nodded. "Anything else?"

"They eliminated all of the footwear impressions as either belonging to first responders or the Eppes family," Colby added. "So it doesn't look like anyone else was in that house." He glanced at a report in his hand, faxed over by Walker. "They've canvassed the neighbors but so far no one has remembered seeing anything."

"So the theory that they entered through the back gate in the alley would seem to fit," David stated. "I'm sure even the most laid-back neighbors would have noticed an unfamiliar car in front of the house that late at night."

"Right," Colby agreed. "No other evidence to speak of. They've done a thorough grid search of the yard and gotten nada."

"So," Megan thought aloud as she tapped a pen against her bottom lip. "It would seem that our best course of action would be to trace Don's movements last night. See where he was spotted when and see if we can pin down a last-to-see."

"I'll pull his cell and home phone records," Colby told her.

"Credit cards, too," she added.

"Right." Colby glanced at David and shrugged.

The other man sighed. "I'll check out his apartment." He shook his head and frowned. "This just seems so... invasive."

"It does," Megan replied sympathetically. "But we have to do it if we want to catch whoever is responsible."

"Yeah," David reluctantly agreed. "I know."

--

The tension in the small, private hospital room was off the charts. Don was propped up in his bed, eyes open and alert as the doctor, nurse, Charlie and Alan all looked on.

"Do you understand what I want you to do?" Doctor Mayfield asked.

Don sighed inwardly but nodded. They think I'm a kid? he bitterly wondered. This seems like the dumbest test in the world.

"Okay then, Don," Mayfield smiled. "Here we go. Remember… nod or shake your head for these first few questions – no speaking."

Get on with it already! Don silently yelled. He nodded his understanding and waited for the first question.

"Is your name Don Eppes?"

Don nodded and tried to keep his growing frustration in check.

"Do you have a brother named Charlie?"

A nod and an impatient sigh.

"Good, Don. I know these questions seem childish, but please stay focused."

Upon seeing the look of worry on his father and brother's faces, he gave a solemn nod. For you two, I will.

"Are you at your apartment right now?"

Don's brow creased and he shook his head. What kind of question...

"Do you work for the FBI?" Nod. "Do you currently live in New Mexico?" Head shake. "Are you in the hospital?" Nod.

The doctor made some notes in his chart and flipped the page. "Very good, Don. Now for the next part of your test I just want you to repeat the phrase I tell you, okay?"

Don nodded and glanced over at his family. He was alarmed to see a poorly hidden look of anxiety on their faces. He wanted to ask 'What's wrong?', but Mayfield was adamant that he not speak except during the test.

"Okay, first phrase: The dog ran."

"The dog... ran." Don swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, surprised it was affecting his voice so much.

"Very good. Next phrase: The dog chased the cat."

"The... cat chased... the dog." Don saw the doctor's expression falter and he looked over at his family. They, too, seemed worried about something.

"Can you try that one again, Don? The dog chased the cat."

"The cat chased..." He froze. Wait, I meant to say dog. "The cat..." No, that's not right! What the-

"That's okay, Don," Mayfield quickly soothed. "Let's try another one."

Don was so busy trying to figure out what was wrong with himself that he almost missed the next phrase.

"I drove my car."

Don took a deep breath and concentrated. "My drove car." His eyes widened and his heart sped up. No, wait! That's not what I meant to say! He shook his head, wincing at the headache the movement set off. "Again," he insisted. "I... drove... car." No, that wasn't right either! Fear the likes of which Don had never experienced began to creep into his heart. He looked over at his father and gave him a desperate look. "Alan?" he pleaded. Wait, I wanted to say 'Dad'. I never call him Alan. Don took a ragged breath and tried to calm his nerves.

"Shh, Donny," his father's voice sounded next to his ear. He looked up at the older man and fought back tears. "I know, son. I'm here. It's okay – it'll be okay." He rested his hand on Don's head, away from the injury. "One more test for the doctor, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Don nodded and lifted his heavily bandaged and splinted right hand, wiggling his fingers at his father. The older man read the request perfectly, gently gripping the digits in his hand. Don forced a smile on his face and looked back at the doctor, nodding for him to continue.

"The last test involves identifying common objects," Mayfield spoke slowly. "I'll point to something and you tell me what it is, okay?" At Don's nod he pointed to the television.

"TV."

The doctor pointed to a vase of flowers.

"Flowers." Don let out a small grin. "Lilacs."

"Show off," Alan mumbled affectionately.

Don felt his racing heart calm down. Maybe things aren't as bad as I thought.

The doctor pointed to the clock hanging on the wall.

"Alarm." Don's breathing hitched. No, that's a clock. "Alarm." He squeezed his father's hand and fearfully shook his head. What's wrong with me? he wondered to himself. Quit being a baby, Eppes! You can do this. Concentrate! Don took a deep breath and opened his mouth, consciously forming the sounds as he spoke. "Alarm." No!

Don could stand it no longer and collapsed against his father. He felt hot tears burning in his eyes and was ashamed as they rolled down his cheeks. "Alan," he cried, his heart wrenching at the word.

"I'm here, Donny." Alan's voice was gentle and soft against his ear.

Don felt his father's arms slip around his shoulders, loosely embracing him. He knew his father was being mindful of his injuries but right then Don didn't care about physical pain – nothing could be worse than the emotional anguish he was feeling. "Tighter," he begged, his distraught mind not even registering he'd spoken the right word.

Alan obeyed and held the trembling man against his chest. "Calm down, son. We'll get through this together."

"Charlie," Don whispered.

"I'm right here, bro." Another pair of arms slipped around his shoulders and Don felt his brother's breath – warm and soothing – against his cheek. "Shh, Don. We're right here."

Don wanted to tell them that he was scared, but didn't – partly because it was against his nature and partly because he was terrified of what might come out of his mouth. Instead, he leaned into their touch and repeated the one word he knew he could say correctly. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie..."

TBC