"Aphasia?" Megan repeated the unfamiliar word.
"Broca's aphasia, to be precise." Charlie held his head in his hands as he sat with Megan in the hospital cafeteria.
"So Don can't communicate?"
"He can try," Charlie told her. "Sometimes he may get the words right, but they'll be in the completely incorrect order. He may use the wrong word for something – identify a bed as a couch. It's hard to understand him, if you even can at all."
"What about written communication?" Megan suggested hopefully.
"No," the professor shook his head. "Written and oral communications are both affected by his brain injury."
"But he can understand us?"
"Right. That's what makes it so frustrating for him. He comprehends everything you say to him and he knows what he wants to say, but the words aren't there." He looked up at Megan. "You see now why I said a statement is out of the question?"
"I know it's hard for him-"
"No!" Charlie snapped. "You have no idea. You weren't here this morning when he found out."
She held up her hands. "You're right – I don't know. But Charlie, we need to know what happened."
"And I'm telling you that he can't tell you that. All that will happen is that he'll get frustrated and upset, which isn't good for his recovery." He met the female agent's unwavering gaze and eventually relented. "A compromise?" She gestured for him to continue. "Give him until tomorrow afternoon. He'll have had a full day to adjust and hopefully we'll have some sort of treatment set up for him."
"Okay," she smiled softly. "I think that will work." Megan covered Charlie's hands with her own. "What's the prognosis for recovery?"
Charlie let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "Typically all the patient can do is to learn coping strategies and try to regain the most basic speech abilities. Don's doctor is hopeful that the residual swelling on his brain is the cause of this and that as the swelling fades, so will the aphasia."
"But he's not certain of that."
"No," the young man answered wearily.
"So it could be..." she trailed off as Charlie paled.
"Permanent," he finished in a barely audible whisper.
--
Charlie and Alan arrived at the hospital early the next morning, stopping by the nurse's station to check with Don's nurse.
"He had a bit of a rough night last night," she told them. "I think he was in some pain but he wouldn't tell us. I mean he wouldn't even attempt to tell us. He just tossed and turned and ignored our questions."
"We'll have a talk with him about that," Alan assured her.
"Good," she beamed at the older man. "He needs to know that if he'll just try to communicate, we can decipher a lot of what he's saying. And, if not, there's always nodding to yes or no questions."
"I think that makes him feel like a child," Charlie threw in his two cents worth.
"I understand that," she nodded. "But we can't keep him comfortable if he won't even try."
"Don't worry," Alan said. "We'll take care of it."
The two men said goodbye and walked down the hallway to Don's room. They quietly slipped in and were pleased to see that Don seemed to be resting comfortably. Alan sank into the chair on Don's right side and Charlie occupied the one on the left. They were perfectly content to sit and watch Don until his eyes slid open about half an hour later.
"Don?" Charlie eagerly called. "You awake now, bro?"
The injured man looked at Charlie and silently nodded.
"How are you feeling?"
He shrugged and moved his gaze away from his brother's face, coming to land on Alan instead.
"So… that shrug," Alan began as he gestured at Don. "Is that a yes for pain?"
Don sighed and waved his hand in an 'it's not important' gesture.
"Donny," Alan pressed. "You have to work with us. I know talking is hard for you right now, but you can nod and shake your head just fine. I know you can understand so please answer when we ask you something."
Don rolled his eyes and reluctantly nodded.
"Thank you," Alan smiled at him. "Now, as for pain – nod for yes or shake your head for no."
After a moment of hesitation Don gave a small nod.
"Oh, Donny," Alan said sadly. "I'll have the nurse bring you something for it, okay? Just hang in there for me."
Don's attention was drawn back to Charlie as he felt his brother's hand on his knee. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"You need to try speaking, Don," Charlie told him. "I know it's hard and extremely frustrating, but you need to keep trying and practicing. It'll help reform the neural pathways and your speech will improve." At Don's disgusted and doubtful look, Charlie leaned in closer and met his brother's eyes. "Don't you trust me, Don?" Okay, that's a cheap shot, Charlie thought to himself. But if Don's going to be stubborn, I'll do whatever I have to do.
"Charlie," Don whispered – his way of vocalizing his trust.
"Thanks, Don." He smiled and patted his brother's knee. "So, can you try to verbalize an answer to Dad's question? Are you in pain?"
"Yes," the injured man replied after a long pause. "Bad no."
"So, you are in pain, but it's not too bad right now?" Charlie translated.
Don's face lit up and he nodded. "Charlie," he said by way of confirmation.
"Tell you what," Alan spoke up. "I'm going to grab some coffee for me and tea for your brother and I'll ask the nurse to bring you something for the pain. That sound okay, Don?"
"Yes," Don answered. His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth and concentrated. "A...lan." Don's expression dissolved into one of despair as he again called his father by the wrong name.
"That's okay, son." Alan leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know you're just rubbing this in because of the time I grounded you for calling me and your mother by our first names during high school."
Don couldn't help it – as down as he felt, his father had made a great joke – so he let out a loud laugh that set Alan and Charlie to giggling as well.
"It's good to hear your laughter again," Alan said as he left the room, shutting the door behind him to give the two brothers some privacy.
"So," Charlie piped up. "Megan wants to come by and see you this afternoon. She wants to get your statement."
"No," Don shook his head. "Not good... not real... know I... can't."
"I know it'll be hard, but she insists that she needs to so they can catch whoever did this to you."
Don's face clouded in confusion. "Did, did... house Charlie... pain did... know not... did."
Charlie held back a sigh as he ran Don's words through his mind. "Be patient with me here, Don. I'm a little confused. You're saying that you know you got hurt at my house?" Don shrugged with a confused look on his face. "Can you try again for me? Maybe use some gestures, too?"
Don chewed on his bottom lip and slowly nodded. "Did... pain did... know... not." His face twisted in extreme concentration and he finally pointed to the bandage on his head. "Empty."
Realization dawned on Charlie. "You don't remember what happened?"
Don nodded and wearily sank into his pillows. He gave his brother a tired smile. "Charlie."
"Glad to be of service, bro." The younger man moved his hand to Don's cheek. "And I'm not going anywhere, you got that?"
"Charlie," Don whispered happily as he drifted to sleep.
The young man watched Don relax, the tension bleeding from his face. The doctor and nurses had warned them that Don would tire easily due to the severity of his injuries and the energy it took to try to speak, but he still couldn't get used to seeing his brother that tired. He'd only spoken thirty-two words, but the way he crashed afterwards made it seem like he'd run a marathon.
"It'll get better," Charlie whispered softly, unsure of whom he was trying to convince. "It has to get better."
--
Colby tossed a file onto Megan's desk as he and David met her after lunch to give their reports. "The DNA from the broken glass came up empty," Colby told her. "So it probably is Don's. The question now is why was he trying to break in."
"That would be the question," she agreed. "So, no other evidence of any use?"
"Zip, zero, zilch," he spat in frustration.
"Why don't you key the specifics of the crime into NCIC and see if you get any hits?"
"Sure," he replied. "I'm desperate enough to try anything at this point."
"Good." Megan turned her attention to the other man at her desk. "David?"
"Still no luck finding Don's car. No witnesses have called in, and no towing companies have reported finding a vehicle matching the description."
"It's got to be somewhere," Megan sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stall her rapidly forming migraine. "I mean a huge, black, government-issue SUV can't just disappear in the middle of LA, right?"
"You wouldn't think so," David concurred. "I'll resend the APB to agencies at a farther radius than before. Maybe if someone took it out of the city we'll get a hit."
"Sounds good," Megan told him as she checked her watch. "I've got a meeting with Don this afternoon to get – try to get – his statement."
"We'll call you if anything comes up," Colby promised her. "Tell Don we said hi, and to get better and get back soon."
"Yeah," David grinned. "Tell him his desk is officially up for grabs if he's not back within the next two weeks."
"You two..." Megan trailed off and shook her head fondly.
"Gotta love us," Colby gave her his best grin.
Megan chuckled and shot back, "Only because no one else will."
TBC