Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they belong to Cheryl Heuton and Nicolas Falacci.
UCLA Medical Center
August 3
1940 Hours PST
A nurse had shooed the two brothers out of Alan's room so she could check vitals and do a couple other things, with a side eye that plainly stated if you're going to fight, take it outside. Don had motioned Charlie toward the elevator, and it was the most awkward elevator ride of his life as they'd ridden it down to the bottom floor. From there, Charlie had pushed straight past Don and out the automatic doors so that Don had to jog to keep up.
EMS had arrived at the El Dorado about twenty minutes after they'd called, one for Alan Eppes, and a second for the unconscious Daryl Langager. OCME had retrieved Chris Locke off the balcony. EMS also managed to revive Don at the scene, a decision the young paramedic immediately regretted as Don pulled rank to get himself into the ambulance with his father.
The ride to UCLA Med seemed to take forever. Don never took his eyes off his father. After making sure Alan appeared stable, the EMT attempted to give Don a hand with his shoulder, but Don stubbornly refused.
"I'm fine. Take care of him."
"Your blood pressure is through the roof, and you might be looking at surgery on that shoulder," the EMT argued. "I'd say 'fine' is an understatement, sir."
Don fixed him with a glare. "Do not call me 'sir.'"
It wasn't until they'd gotten to the hospital and taken Alan up to a room before Don finally agreed to have someone look at his shoulder. Mostly because he was afraid he might pass out again, and he needed to be awake and alert for any information regarding his father.
Three hours later, he realized that he'd forgotten to tell Charlie.
So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Charlie decked him in the hallway.
Don sat down on a concrete bench while his little brother paced. The painkillers were working wonders with his shoulder, but he was pretty sure there wasn't anything strong enough to fix the rift between him and his brother.
"Five hours." Charlie held up five fingers spread apart. "Five hours. That's how long it took someone to finally tell me that Dad was okay and being transferred here. As soon as SWAT breached the hotel we lost the audio feed and Amita and I had no idea what was going on!"
"I know, Charlie. I'm sorry. I never meant-"
"How could you let this happen?" Charlie asked him again.
Don leaned forward. "Let?" he repeated angrily. "Yeah, Charlie, that's what happened. I let my ass get kicked at the house. I let Dad go with a serial killer."
"You lied to Langager," Charlie shot back. "You said it wasn't personal? 'Cause he sure seemed like he had some kind of connection to you. He came after our family. That attitude he gave you?" Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. "Sounded an awful lot like the same kind of banter you've got with Colby, or David."
"Kinda like the kind you're giving me right now?" Don retorted.
"Yeah, exactly," Charlie nodded. He bit his bottom lip "I read through his file, Don."
Don raised his eyes skyward. "Damn it, Charlie," he began, exasperated, but his brother cut him off.
"I understand, Don, I get why you didn't want me to read them. I spent the entire raid at the hotel terrified that you'd find Dad like…like that. But the point is, that wasn't your decision."
"I'm the lead agent on this case. Langager was my responsibility!"
"And you're mine!" Charlie spun to face Don. "You don't get it, do you? You made it my responsibility the day you asked me to consult way back on that first stock fraud case. You made me responsible for you and your team." Charlie held up a hand as Don moved to say something. "Don, I might deck you again, and my hand hurts from the last one, so just…let me talk, okay? You owe me this much."
Don stared up at his brother…and sat up a little straighter. He made a go on gesture with one hand.
Charlie blinked. He honestly hadn't expected Don to let him continue.
"I understand confidentiality, Don, I consult for the NSA. But this wasn't about that. This was about you trying to be the big brother, and put something that didn't only involve you all on you!" Charlie looked at him. "I-I thought…we've been getting along. We're closer than we've been. We're better than we've been. I just thought you'd trust me enough by now not to do this. Especially when it involves me, and Dad."
He sank down on the patch of grass below the bench and leaned back against it, drawing his knees up to his chest.
After a moment, Charlie said, "You can, um, you can talk now. If you want."
Don nodded. "I do," he said. "Just ah, just…" He flipped his hands palm up in a shrug. "Listening," he settled on finally. He looked down at his brother. "Something I guess I need to better at." He sighed. "Charlie, whether you're thirty or thirteen, you're always gonna be my little brother," Don explained. "And there's part of me…that even though you've got all this life experience and you've proven yourself more than once, and you've saved my ass…you're always gonna be my little brother." He ran a hand over his face. "It wasn't that I was trying to handle this all on my own-or at least, that wasn't all of it…it was that yeah, I was trying to protect you, I guess."
Charlie opened his mouth to say something, but Don shook his head. "My turn, Chuck." He slid off the bench, minding his shoulder, and sat down next to Charlie. "I screwed up this time, Charlie, and I know it," Don said after a minute. "Okay? When you've seen what I've seen in this job, you'd do anything to keep work at work and everything else away from it. I mean, you've seen the crime scene photos, so now you know that part, at least."
Don sighed. "But it was wrong not to involve you when Dad went missing. That was a huge mistake on my part. I just…I know that Dad's not thrilled with you consulting for us, and I know that above everything else he'd want to keep you out of harm's way first, so that's what I went for." He laughed humorlessly. "Turned out well. I don't know if anything I'm saying even constitutes an apology, Charlie, but I really am sorry."
"I know," Charlie said.
The two brothers were silent for a moment. "You think that nurse'll let us back up to see Dad?" he asked, and damn it if Charlie didn't sound thirteen years old again.
It wasn't an acceptance, and Don knew it and understood. "Hey, well, I'll just pull rank if I need to," he said with a small smile.
Charlie stood, and offered Don a hand up. Don took it, and the two brothers made their way back into the hospital.
Alan Eppes opened his eyes about an hour later as the painkillers wore off to see Charlie and Don on either side of him. Both brothers had one hand in their father's hands, and both were dozed off, Don resting back in his chair, Charlie's dark curls spilled over the thin beige blanket on the bed.
Alan smiled to himself, leaned back, and curled his fingers gently around his sons'. We'll deal with everything in the morning, he thought, closing his eyes. There's nothing a brand new morning can't fix.
Eppes Residence
August 4
1000 Hours PST
"You're hovering." Alan made a 'shoo' gesture with his bandaged wrist. Charlie and Don both took a step back, but neither made any move to get any farther away. "Guys. I'm fine," Alan promised them. "Doc says the hand is fine, the head is fine, the heart is fine, I'm fine!"
"Sure," Charlie said. "But, you know, I got Larry to take my classes for the next couple days."
"Yeah, and I gotta get cleared by HR before I can go back to work with this," Don held up his arm as far as the soreness would let him. "So, I mean…"
Alan rolled his eyes. "You wanna do something helpful, we need a new front door and a new coffee table."
Amita came in from the kitchen and handed Alan a cup of coffee. "Yeah, my skills only go as far as sweeping up glass and wood chips," she told the brothers. "I know next to nothing about how to style this house, that's your department." She kissed Charlie with a smile. "Go. Go away."
"I don't mind if she hovers," Alan winked.
Don snickered as Charlie, his ears turning pink, responded, "Geez Dad," and backed slowly out of the living room. Don followed his brother, reaching for his keys in his pocket.
"Come on, we'll take my car."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You're driving? You've only got one good arm."
"And that's still one better than your driving skills. You handle a piece of chalk better than a steering wheel."
"Hey, both of those things require a certain amount of precision…" Charlie's voice trailed off as he and Don disappeared outside.
Alan Eppes shook his head. "Some things will never change," he said.
Amita settled in on the couch across from him. "Oh, I don't know," she responded lightly, plucking a small piece of glass she'd missed from the seam of the couch. "Somehow I think there's new things on the way."
Alan nodded thoughtfully, considering that as he watched Don's car disappear down the street. "I'll take that," he replied, and reached for the remote.
The Eppes boys would need time to heal, but they'd be all right.
Fin.
