Don struggled to sit up. "The guy in the pawn shop was Greg Spencer? The guy who beat you up?"

Charlie's face reddened. "'Beat up' is taking it a little far, Don. But, yeah, he was one of them."

Don glanced at David. "And we still don't have him in custody?"

David shook his head. "No. Not yet. But we will."

"Until you do," Don said, "you should put a guard on Charlie."

"That's not necessary," Charlie objected. "There's no way I'm at any risk..."

"Says the man with a bullet wound in his arm and bruises all over his face," Don growled. "David, I want Charlie protected."

David drew himself to his full height and looked Don straight in the eye. "Don, you are on medical leave. In effect, that makes you a civilian. I am in charge of this case now, and I will be the one to decide what is the best use of our resources." He turned to Charlie, "And, Charlie, if I determine that you DO need protection, you will accept that protection graciously." He folded his arms across his chest and looked from Charlie to Don. "Both of you understand me?"

Don and Charlie stared slack-jawed at David. Alan laughed. "David, you have done the impossible. You have rendered both of my sons speechless!" He caught Maggie covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Maggie, you have kids don't you?"

"One son. I can see the trouble increases exponentially when you have more than one."

"Actually,..." Charlie started.

"Ben," Don interrupted, "is that the Van Gogh in that box?"

"Yes, it is."

"Really?" Alan stood. "A real Van Gogh? Could we see it?"

"I don't see why not," Ben said.

Don moved his feet to the far side of the bed. "Here. You can put the box down here."

Ben set the box on the foot of the bed and carefully opened it. Before lifting the painting from the box, he put on a pair of gloves.

Don raised the head of his bed and Alan and Amita moved in closer. Charlie swung his legs around and sat at the edge of his bed. At Alan's warning look, he said, "Hey, if I'm going to be going home tomorrow, I'm going to have to walk, right?"

Amita turned back to look at Charlie. "Let me help you," she said, walking back to his side and helping him stand. "I've got him, Alan."

"At least put your slippers on. They're under the bed, Amita."

While Charlie slowly crossed the room, Ben lifted the painting from the box. "This is a portrait of Van Gogh's mother. He wrote his brother a letter saying that he was doing a portrait of their mother for himself because he was tired of looking at the black and white photo he had of her. He said he was going to do a harmony of color as he remembered her."

"She has such kind eyes," Amita said softly. "And that little smile is so sweet."

"When did he paint it?" Don asked.

"Two years before he died," Maggie said.

"He killed himself, didn't he?" Charlie asked, shifting awkwardly, trying to keep his balance.

Maggie picked up the box. "Yes, he did. Why don't you sit here, before you fall, Charlie?"

"Thanks," Charlie said as he eased himself down onto the edge of Don's bed. "He must have loved her very much." He reached toward the canvas, but kept from touching it. "Right there, around the eyes, she resembles her son. Or," he said, smiling, "I guess he resembles her."

"I hadn't noticed that before, but you're right," Ben said.

"He was amazing, wasn't he?" Alan said. "With those big, bold strokes, he managed to capture the image beautifully. What a genius." He glanced at Charlie. "And I have some experience with geniuses."

"Not that kind," Charlie murmured.

There was a knock at the door and Nurse Mary Ryan entered. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just need to check their vitals. Would you like me to come back?"

"That's okay," Alan said. "I think we're about done here anyway."

Maggie held the box while Ben put the painting back. Amita helped Charlie back to bed.

"That's a pretty picture," Mary said. "It looks like a Van Gogh."

Ben and Alan exchanged glances. "It is," Ben said.

"Really? Mind if I have a look?" Ben held the box so she could see the painting. "Oh my gosh! That's the one that was stolen, isn't it? I saw a thing about it on the news."

"Yes, it is," David said. "We're just getting ready to take it back to the FBI office, but since these two were injured while working on the case, I thought they'd like to see it."

"Wow," she said. "That is amazing. Along with their vitals, maybe I should get their autographs."

"You should," David said. "Well, I think we'd better get back to the office and leave you to your duties."

Amita popped the DVD from the drive and handed it to David. "Let me know if you need me to do any enhancements on it."

"Thanks, I will. But Charlie identified the kid. That should be enough." David slipped the DVD back into its case. "So, when are these two getting out of here? The nurses must be tired of them by now."

Alan laughed. "Actually, they've been behaving themselves. I think the drugs have something to do with that. What do you think, Mary?"

"They've both been model patients," she said, looking up from the blood pressure monitor beside Don's bed.

"Anyway," Alan said, "we're hoping I can bring them home tomorrow if everything goes well."

"Tomorrow? That's fast!" David said.

"Well," Don said, "we are young and healthy..."

"And," Charlie added, "studies have shown that patients recuperate better in the home environment. Especially with the high incidence of infections being transmitted in hospitals."

Don grimaced. "Our being young and healthy sounds a lot better to me. Now I think I'll see if we can get out of here today."

Mary finished making note of Don's vitals and moved on to Charlie. "Actually, we've been taking precautions to stop the spread of infection here for years. If you check our results, you'll see we are doing an excellent job."

"There you go," Alan glared at Charlie. "Not that I don't want to see you two come home, but don't rush it. You're better off listening to your doctor's advice, not some studies."

David patted Alan on the shoulder. "Good luck with these two. Call me if you need anything. I can probably sneak you two pairs of handcuffs."

"Thanks, David. I think I can handle them. They've both been shot, so they're a lot slower than normal."

"That was nice of them to stop by and let us know what was going on," Amita said after David, Ben and Maggie left.

"It was," Alan said, "I loved seeing the Van Gogh up close." He grinned at the nurse. "I think Mary here was impressed too."

"I was," she said. "I still can't believe it was the real thing."

There was a knock at the door, and Dr. Torre entered the room. "Good afternoon, folks. How are our patients doing today?"

"Ready to get out of here. No offense," Don said.

"None taken." He looked at the charts Mary handed him. "Your stats look good. Your temperatures are both normal, and everything looks good. You feeling all right? Don?"

"A little sore, but well enough to go home."

"I'm bringing them to Charlie's house," Alan explained. "I'll be there to take care of both of them, Doctor."

"I expected no less," Dr. Torre said, grinning. "Charlie? How are you feeling?"

Charlie moved his arm gingerly, "Sore."

"That's to be expected. Let's have a look." He handed Mary the charts and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Turning to Alan and Amita, he said, "Would you two excuse us for a few minutes?"

Amita kissed Charlie and took Alan's arm. "Come on. I don't think this is anything either of us needs to see."

"If Don and Charlie don't mind, I think I should watch so I know what to do," Alan said.

"Works for me," Charlie said. "Dad's been tending to our cuts and bruises for over thirty years."

Don shrugged. "It's fine with me. You can watch, but I'm not going to."

Amita rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't want to be the weak little girl. I guess I'm staying too."

Charlie squeezed her hand. "You are anything but a weak little girl. You're one of the strongest women I know. If you don't want to watch, nobody will think any less of you."

She bent and kissed him. "Anyone want coffee?"

"I'd like some tea," Charlie said, glancing at the doctor, "if that's okay, that is."

"You can eat or drink whatever you want. Your brother's the one who has to be careful," Dr. Torre said as he began to pull the tape from Charlie's skin.

Once the bandages were changed, Dr. Torre said, "Well, you're both looking good. Barring any problems overnight, I think you'll be able to leave us tomorrow. Charlie, you need to take it easy with that arm. You did damage the bone, so keep using the sling. Don, you're going to need to take it even easier. Mary will show you how to get up out of bed. You have to minimize any strain on those abdominals. You don't want to pop those stitches."

"When can I go back to work?" Don asked.

"You're an FBI field agent?" Dr. Torre continued when Don nodded, "I would say at least six weeks. Just because this was minor as gunshot wounds go, it is not a minor injury. You'll find your body needs a lot of rest to recuperate from the trauma. You're in good condition, but you'll find that you tire easily, and as you wean yourself from the painkillers, you're going to experience quite a bit of discomfort."

Alan chuckled. "Getting Donnie to take it easy will not be easy."

"Well," Dr. Torre said, "I'm hoping he'll pay attention to the signals his body gives him. As his attending physician, I'm the one who has to sign the papers releasing him back to duty." He narrowed his eyes at Don. "And I do not take that responsibility lightly. The longer Agent Eppes resists, the longer he'll just be plain ol' Mr. Eppes."

Amita giggled. "And how about this Mr. Eppes? How long until he's back to being Professor Eppes?"

"Now, that shouldn't take quite as long. Charlie's injury is less serious, and his job is less strenuous. I would say two weeks should do it. But," he gave Charlie the same glare he had given Don, "I am going to have to monitor your recovery too. I'm assuming you'll be out on some kind of disability, which means you'll need my permission to go back to work, too."

"Chuck," Don said, "I'm not a profiler, but I'm thinking our good doctor here is a bit of a control freak."

Charlie laughed. "At the very least, he enjoys wielding power over helpless patients."

"Well," Dr. Torre said, grinning, "what good is power if you can't use it? I'll see you two tomorrow morning before I sign your release papers. And, Mary, when you get a chance, can you explain the home aftercare to these gentlemen?" He pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them into the wastebasket. "See you tomorrow."

"Now," Alan said, "there's a doctor who knows his stuff."

--

David pulled in to the FBI parking garage. "Thanks for coming along," he said to Ben and Maggie as they walked toward the elevator. "I'm surprised that turned out to be the real Van Gogh."

"Me too, to be honest," Ben said. "Felicia Agincourt seemed a lot smarter than that."

"I don't think it was her idea," David said. "I have a feeling at least one of their gang members decided to go into business for himself. Now, Greg is one of Charlie's students. He seems to be buddies with two other students. The three of them have been missing."

"You're thinking the other two missing students are involved with Greg," Maggie said, nodding. "Does that mean Charlie is still in danger?"

"Despite what Don says, I don't think so. This has gone beyond pressuring Charlie to keep out of this case. They have nothing to gain by harming him at this point. I think they're trying to get some quick bucks for some reason."

"Perhaps they're trying to get away from the rest of the gang." Ben said as they exited the elevator. "I imagine losing the Van Gogh will get them in a lot of trouble with whoever is left in the gang."

"You don't think they're going to try to get it back, do you?" Maggie said, looking a little worried.

"Nah," David said, "that would be stupid. Besides, it'll be secure here, locked away with the rest of the evidence."

"I don't know," Maggie said, "it was pretty secure in the Norton Simon. And if there is enough of Felicia's gang still out there, they're not going to be very happy with Greg Spencer."

Ben nodded. "I think I see where you're heading with this, Maggie. Greg's life might be in danger, and he might see getting the Van Gogh back as a way to save himself."

David sighed. "And we've already found at least one connection to the gang inside this office."

Colby looked up as they entered the bullpen. "Hey, I was beginning to think you were taking off with that Van Gogh. That is the Van Gogh, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Granger. It's the Van Gogh. We stopped by to talk to Don and Charlie. Charlie recognized the kid who pawned it. Greg Spencer."

Colby whistled. "It sounds like we'd better find that kid. Actually, all three of them have disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Maybe Charlie can do one of his pursuit things or something," David said, pulling out his cell phone. "I'll give him a call and get him started on it. While I'm doing that, can you get this into evidence? There's a possibility the gang might still try to get their hands on it. There's also a possibility we have a second mole in this office."

Colby nodded. "Want me to take it to LAPD?"

"Good idea," David said. "Get ahold of Lt. Walker. He'll know who we can trust over there."