Chapter Eighteen: Now Everybody Breathe

With Colby's help, Don leaned Charlie back on the couch and took a seat next to him. Charlie tried to sit up again, but Don pushed him back down.

"Just take it easy, Buddy. Help's on the way."

With Don's strong arm holding him down, Charlie had to force his body to relax. Just the idea of having been shot seemed to induce a certain degree of shock and now he could feel the warm fluid that had filled the interior lining of his cast. As it started dripping down his hand, Charlie had to force himself to keep his focus elsewhere. He was afraid to look again; for fear that the continuing sight of his own blood in mass quantity might make him pass out.

Besides, the pain was surprisingly minimal and Charlie tried to remain optimistic that the bleeding just looked worse than it was.

Lifting his eyes to his older brother, Charlie hoped to confirm that supposition, but he could see something unfamiliar behind Don's eyes and it terrified him.

For a moment, Charlie was certain that Don was more scared than he was. But then he blinked and the fearful big brother vanished, replaced with the iron nerved federal agent he was accustomed to seeing. Don stayed next to him and put his hand over the top of the cast as if he could somehow control the bleeding through sheer will.

"It really doesn't look to bad, Charlie. You'll be alright."

Looking uncharacteristically grey, Colby sat down on the coffee table across from the couch where Don had forced Charlie to recline.

He lifted his head to look apologetically at Don.

"I don't know how she got him, man. I was right there."

"Granger. You…."

Don started to reply but Charlie found his voice again and interrupted him.

He looked from Colby to Don and then back again.

"She had the gun right in my back. I don't know how………"

Charlie's face took on a slightly blank look and Don felt an onslaught of panic as he tried to remember where the brachial artery ran through the upper arm. If the blood was pooling in the cast, he could be in real trouble and they might not even know it. But as Charlie's eyes seemed to focus on nothing in particular, Don recognized the expression. He had gotten to the point where he could almost see numbers dancing around Charlie's head when he got that look on his face.

"What is it, Charlie?"

In his mind's eye Charlie could see an instant replay of the final seconds before Colby's shoulder impacted his arm. Running the steep angle of entry and an average bullet velocity through the super computer of his mind, Charlie quickly calculated an estimate of the bullet's final path once it had passed through his upper arm and two layers of the fiberglass cast that surrounded it.

"The trajectory of the bullet, Don. There's no way Colby could have….."

He suddenly stopped talking and his eyes widened as he turned his head to look at Agent Granger.

Colby was sitting on the coffee table leaning over slightly with his right hand resting up against his rib cage again. When he realized both brothers were staring at him, he sat up and shook his head.

"What?"

Don turned his head back toward the rest of his team. Megan was speaking with the LAPD officers while David attended to their wounded suspect, both anxiously waiting for the ambulance.

"Reeves! Sinclair!"

He looked back to Colby.

"Granger?"

Megan practically hurdled the back of the couch, immediately turning her attention to Charlie.

"Don, what is it?"

But when she saw that Charlie's eyes were turned to Colby, she followed his gaze.

Looking moderately embarrassed, Colby shook his head.

"It's not bad. I'm really fine. Don't worry about me."

Realizing what his words implied, Megan grabbed Colby by the lapel of his suit jacket.

"Don't be so macho, Granger. She get you?"

Lifting the edge of his jacket, Megan revealed a small patch of crimson across Colby's left side. She immediately began to peel off the coat.

"It's nothing, Reeves. I………"

"Why didn't you say anything, you idiot?"

Looking slightly bewildered by her reprimand, Colby shrugged his jacket off and turned his side to her obediently so she could look at the wound.

"Were you hit too?"

David was hurrying across the room towards them, a look of concern etched on his face.

Rolling his eyes and looking put out; Colby glanced down at his side.

"It's a scratch. I'm okay. Worry about him!"

Don had wrapped his hands around the upper part of Charlie's arm in an effort to slow the bleeding with indirect pressure. But the blood running down the inside of the cast felt like a centipede trailing its way down his arm and Charlie was doing everything he could not to focus on the fact that he had a hole in his arm that was still bleeding profusely.

Adding the new information concerning Colby's wound to his equation, Charlie recalculated his numbers. He'd used this equation multiple times to help Don find wayward slugs at crime scenes in the past and Charlie wanted to know exactly where this one had ended up.

"It should have hit the floor."

Turning their focus back to the resident genius, the other three agents looked confused, but Don leaned forward earnestly.

"What's that, Buddy?"

"At that angle……if the bullet didn't hit Colby…."

"It's just a graze, Charlie. He's okay."

"Well, then the bullet should be in the floor over next to the………."

Not being able to apply adequate pressure to the wound in Charlie's arm was making Don more nervous by the second and his abrupt pause was startling.

"Charlie? Buddy?"

Looking up at his older brother, not quite believing the results of his mental calculations, Charlie's face took on an expression of profound concern.
"Are you okay?"

Don cocked his head to one side looking mystified by the question, so Charlie continued.
"You were really limping and you're not supposed to be walking around without your crutches."

The sounds of more sirens outside the building signaled the arriving ambulance. Despite the ever increasing throb in his leg, Don pulled himself to his feet without relinquishing his hold on his brother's upper arm.

Charlie was sitting there bleeding and he was concerned about his broken leg. A smile slowly spread across Don's face, and he shook his head at his younger brother.
"Its okay, Charlie. We'll worry about me later."

"But, Don…….."

Charlie's protest was cut off by David.

"Whoa!"

Don was startled when the younger agent grabbed him by the shoulder.

"You'd better sit back down, Eppes."

"What are you………."

Ignoring his protest, David lowered Don back to the couch next to Charlie.

"I think we found that missing slug."

Following David's eyes to the cast on his leg, Don's mouth fell open in shock. About four inches above his ankle, there was a pencil sized hole in the front of the cast. There didn't appear to be an exit hole and a small pool of blood had leaked out of the bottom of the cast around his foot.

Flopping back onto the couch next to his brother Don turned his head to look at Charlie in sheer disbelief.

"We not having a very good week, are we?"

………………………………

Authors Notes: Have you ever been convinced that the world is out to get you? I think I've had a week like theirs once or twice. Just without the bullets and not as much blood. I sure hope I've still got everybody. Sorry about the delay, but I got a new boss this week and lunch breaks have been spent doing things besides eating lunch (and coming up with ideas).

And so it goes.

Chapter Nineteen: You Never Step in the Same River Twice