Amita had decided to go to bed early. She hadn't heard from Charlie since he left her apartment that morning. She had been relieved that she was able to get back to something resembling her normal routine. But Charlie was becoming a bigger and bigger part of her life, and she really missed him when he wasn't around. She wondered briefly if everything was okay, but dismissed that thought quickly.

Then her phone rang.

Twenty minutes Amita pushed the door open and peeked into the hospital room. "Okay if I come in?" Alan looked up at her, put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion and waved her in to the room. "It's kind of boring in here right now," he whispered. "They've both had their painkillers, so I think it's going to be a while before either of them stirs." He stood, stretching the aches out of his bones. "Would you like to sit?"

"No, Alan, I can't take your seat."

He lifted the chair and moved it closer to Charlie's bed. "Sure you can. I was hoping you'd cover for me for a few minutes." He glanced at his watch. "It's past visiting hours. How'd you get past the nurses?"

Amita smiled as she sat down. "Charlie and I befriended Nurse Ryan last night. She let me in."

"Nurse Mary Ryan? You sure? She didn't seem like the rule-bending type to me."

"She wasn't until she realized Charlie was Don's brother. I get the feeling family is more important to her than rules."

Alan smiled as he rested a hand on Amita's shoulder. "And well it should be. Family is the most important thing in the world."

"It is. I don't know if I've ever thanked you for making me part of your family."

Alan chuckled. "That was Charlie's decision." He noticed her stricken expression and added, "A decision I heartily approve of. In fact, if you'll recall, I was the one who asked him what was more important..."

Amita grinned. "Learning or love. Looks like he's managed to get both."

"That he has. I'm going to take a walk. Want me to bring you anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm good." When Alan left, she looked down at Charlie. The bruises on his face had started to fade, but his face was so pale, the bruises looked even darker. She grimaced as she saw the bandage on his upper arm. It could have been worse, she thought. It could have been a lot worse. Sometimes he was such an impulsive idiot. She couldn't believe it when he had told her he'd gotten shot pushing a witness out of harm's way. Though he had risked his life to rescue Taylor Ashby.

She shuddered, remembering how she had felt when she realized how close she had come to losing him. She didn't want to wake him up, but she needed to touch him, to feel him. To know that he was still with her. She slipped her hand under the fingers of his good hand. His fingers were so cold, but they closed around hers, and she smiled tenderly at him. He whispered something. It was so quiet; almost a sigh. His eyes began to move. "Shhhh, Charlie. Sleep," she murmured, stroking his cheek gently. He took a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh and fell deeper asleep.

--

Liz sat, watching Fred Agincourt's face for any sign that he was waking up. Colby paced. "How long did the doctor say it would take?" Colby asked.

"It'll take as long as it takes," Liz said, wearily. "Listen, I'll wait here. Why don't you go back to the office? Or home to bed. Or someplace other than here."

Colby stopped pacing and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I'm serious. There's no sense both of us wasting our time here."

"You sure?"

Liz shot him a glance. "Granger!"

"I'm going," he said, backing toward the door. "Call me if you need me."

"Get!" She softened the word with a smile. "Goodnight, Colby."

"Goodnight, Liz."

Liz slouched in the chair and dozed. Some time later, the sounds of Agincourt moving woke her up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. He was staring at her. "Hey," she said softly. "You with me, Fred?"

"I think so," he croaked. "What happened?"

"You were shot."

He closed his eyes and groaned. "I remember now. Dr. Eppes... is he okay?"

"He'll be fine. He was shot in the arm. Charlie said you recognized the shooter. Who was it?"

"He was one of the kids Frank mentored. His name is Curtis Stevens. Curt. He was a troubled kid. Did you ... did you kill him?"

"No. No, he's fine. He's in custody. Why would he shoot you?"

"No idea. I didn't really know him at all. He worked with Frank"

"Charlie said Curt smiled at you. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. I .. I didn't notice him smiling"

"Fred, what's your mom do? Is she a teacher too?"

"No. She's an art restorer. She fixes artworks, like paintings, drawings, sculptures. Why? You don't think my mother is involved in this."

"We arrested her a little while ago."

"Mom? Why? She wouldn't..."

"Fred, she was trying to steal evidence your brother left behind with an art dealer in Santa Monica."

"An art dealer?" His eyes widened. "Are you saying Frank was involved with the art thieves?"

Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "He wasn't just involved, Fred. We think your brother and your mother ran the theft ring."

"No. That's not possible. You're wrong. And I think I'd better have a lawyer before I say anything else to you, Agent." He blinked and looked away. "I'm sorry. I ... I can't tell you anything more. Where's my wallet? My lawyer's number is in there."

Liz stood and retrieved the blue and white plastic bag from the shelf under the bed. "It's in here with the rest of your stuff. And you can use my cell phone to call if you'd like."

Fred pulled his wallet from the bag. "I really am sorry, Agent Warner. I want to help you, but I don't want to do anything I'll regret."

Liz smiled as she handed him her phone. "I understand. I really do. You want me to leave the room while you call?"

"No. I'll probably get his answering machine anyway." He dialed. "I was right. Hey, Pete, this is Fred Agincourt. I'm at Huntington Memorial. I'm not under arrest, but I'm being questioned by the FBI about the recent art thefts. Call me as soon as you get this." He hung up and handed the phone back to Liz. "Thanks. Listen, is there any urgency? I mean, is anybody in danger if I don't talk to you right away?"

Liz sighed. "You tell me. We've got the guy who shot you and Charlie, along with the little girl who shot one of our agents. Is there anybody else out there we have to worry about?"

"Honestly, Agent, I don't know. I would tell you if I did. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Liz stood. "Okay. I'll talk to you after you've spoken with your lawyer. Take care," she said as she left the room.

On her way back to Don's room -- Don and Charlie's room, she reminded herself -- she called David. "Hey, David. Fred woke up. He gave me the name of the shooter..."

"Curt Stevens, right?"

"Right. Don't tell me you know his mother's occupation."

"Got nothing on that yet. What'd you get?"

"She's an art restorer."

David whistled. "That's very interesting. Anything else?"

"I really think he was surprised that his mother and brother are involved in this. He's not going to say anything else without his lawyer, though. So I'm on the way up to say goodnight to Don and Charlie before I come back in."

"Colby tells me you told him to go home and get some sleep. Why don't you take your own advice, Liz?"

"Did Colby?"

David laughed. "No. Did you really expect him to?"

"Then I'm not either. I'll be in after I talk to Don."

Liz tapped on the door and quietly entered Don's room. "Hey," she said as Alan looked up. "How are they doing?"

"Sound asleep," Alan said, standing and stretching his back. "All three of them," he added, pointing to Amita curled up in a chair, her head resting on the bed next to Charlie's arm.

"I'm awake," Amita said, sitting up and blinking.

"Amita, dear, why don't you go home and get some rest?" He held up his hand as she started to object. "Shhh. If you'd like, you can come back tomorrow and give me a break. How's that sound?"

"I can drop you off if you'd like," Liz said as she touched Don's cheek. "I just thought I'd stop and see how Don's doing before going back to the office."

"No, that's okay. I've got my car," Amita said, bending down to give Charlie a kiss. She stood, smiling at Alan. "I have a feeling they're both going to be out until sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"At least," he said.

Amita packed up the papers she had brought with her. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I'm sure. No point in both of us watching them sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Liz entered the conference room carrying three large cups of coffee. Colby looked up and grinned, "Boy, am I glad to see you." He took the cup Liz offered. "It's nice to see you too, Liz."

She gave him a good-natured punch on the arm. "Watch it, Granger. The coffee wouldn't have made it here without me."

"She's got a point," David said as he took the cup Liz handed him. "Thanks, Liz. How are Don and Charlie doing?"

"They were both asleep by the time I got there. But Alan says they're both doing well. He's hoping they'll be going home in a couple of days." She sat down next to David. "So what have you got so far? We ready to wrap this up?"

David grinned. "Not quite, but we're getting close." He stood and approached one of Charlie's white boards. "You think he'll mind if I erase this?"

Liz tilted her head and stared at the board. "I think that's from an old case."

Colby nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right. But why don't I take a photo of it just in case?" He pulled his cell phone out and aimed it at the board. The phone made a sound like a camera shutter clicking and Colby squinted at the screen. "That should do it. I'll email this to the Whiz Kid in case he needs it."

"Good idea, Granger," David said as he erased the board. "Okay, we've got a lot of loose ends to tie together and a lot of people in custody." Way up at the top of the white board, he wrote 'Felicia Agincourt, Francis Agincourt, Fred Agincourt,' and put a question mark next to Fred's name. "It's safe to say that Felicia and Francis are involved up to their eyeballs in this. What about Fred?"

Liz shook her head, "I really think he was clueless."

"I agree," Colby said, "He had no idea what they were up to."

David crossed out Fred's name. "You think he'll testify against them?"

"Hard to say," Colby said. "I think he'd be willing, but he may not know enough to be of any use."

"All right." David circled Felicia's name. "She's going to be a hard nut to crack. I have no clue what her motive for these thefts could have been, but she knows art. She's got quite a reputation as a restorer, but on the other hand, she's also been an activist in a half a dozen different causes."

"Any arrests?" Liz asked.

"Up until now, they've all been for civil disobedience type things – sit-ins, vandalism, that kind of thing. She's been anti-war, anti-cruelty, anti-business, pro-civil rights. She was even a member of that Earth Liberation Movement we investigated during that serial arson case."

"It would be interesting to see what changed her focus," Liz said.

"Maybe if she's doing this for some cause – other than getting rich – she might just be looking forward to telling somebody about it," David said. He wrote 'Ellen Davis' on the board. "One thing I just don't get is why they killed a member of their own gang."

Colby leaned forward. "Yeah, that's been bugging me, too. I mean, she must have been a trusted member of the gang. They trusted her to actually steal the Van Gogh. I think we should start talking to her friends, and maybe even talk to her husband again. This just isn't fitting with everything else."

"You want to start on that in the morning?" David asked.

"Yeah," Colby said, stifling a yawn. "I'll see what I can find."

David glanced at his watch. "If we're going to be of any use to anybody tomorrow, we'd better get some sleep tonight." He put the top on the marker. "Go home."

--

Alan had just settled back down with his sudoku book when there was a tap on the door. "Come in," he said.

Mary Ryan stood in the doorway. "Hi, Mr. Eppes, were you planning on spending the night?"

Alan stood. "I didn't think it would be a problem..."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry! It's not a problem at all." She pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. She came back pushing a brown leather reclining chair.

"Here," Alan said, "let me help you with that."

"I've got it. It's got wheels. Pediatrics isn't too busy tonight, so I asked them if I could borrow a sleeper chair for you." She easily pushed the chair to a spot between the two beds. "It reclines perfectly flat so you can sleep in it, but it doesn't take up anywhere near as much room as a bed."

"Why, thank you, Nurse Ryan," Alan said, running his hand across the chair back.

"Call me Mary. Have a seat, Mr. Eppes. It's very comfortable."

Alan sat. "Thank you, Mary. And, please, call me Alan."

Thursday morning, Alan awoke to the sound of voices. He reached for the handle to change the sleeper back into a chair.

"Well, look at that, Buddy," Don said, chuckling, "Sleeping Beauty is back among us."

"Shh, he needs his rest. He's not getting any younger, you know," Charlie said, grinning broadly.

"You boys think you're funny? You each slept through being kissed by an incredibly beautiful woman last night." Alan stood and pushed the chair against the wall. He checked his watch. "Nine fifteen? I slept through the morning excitement?"

"Yep," Charlie said, "the taking of the blood pressures and temperatures, the blood tests, and even breakfast."

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so long."

Don raised the head of his bed. "Come on, Dad, you obviously needed it."

Alan shrugged. "I had to keep an eye on my boys, you know."

Charlie chuckled as he raised the head of his bed. "And nobody does it better, Pop. Even when you're asleep."

"Very funny," Alan said. "How's the arm?"

"Sore, but the pain meds were making my head too fuzzy."

Don laughed. "Oh, man, Buddy, you left yourself wide open on that one."

Charlie shook his head. "To change the subject, have you talked to David yet?"

"Yeah, when you and your fuzzy head were sawing wood. They're on the verge of wrapping the case up. Without us, if you can believe it."

"It had to happen eventually," Charlie said.

"There's one thing they're still stuck on, and for the life of me, I can't come up with any ideas either."

"Really?" Charlie sat up, grimacing as he jostled his arm. "What?"

"Ellen Davis. She was obviously a trusted member of the gang. Why'd they kill her?"

"Dad? Do you have any idea where my laptop is? I had it in Liz's car."

"Charlie!" Alan said, "You're supposed to be resting."

"For me, this would be rest. Come on, Dad. Let me borrow your phone. I'm going to call Liz."

Alan sighed and handed Charlie his cell phone.