A/N: I actually beat myself almost as badly as poor Don when I fall behind posting.

I try to base the characters reactions as closely on show instances as possible and not to sanitize or change them, using episodes with similar circumstances - in this case, I used Charlie's reactions in "Rampage". It's important to me to be as true to the characters as created as possible, partly out of respect for the creators and actors, partly because that's what I like in fanfic myself.

Chapter 20

"Donnie. Donnie. Donnie."

Don groaned inside. Man, he felt…must've taken a header into home plate or something…

"Donnie…"

He tried to lift his head and answer, but different sections of his scalp seemed to be moving all in independent directions, blinding him with broken pain, and he had to lie very still again to keep from swirling back into insensibility.

Wow. Or more than a header…Go to Mom and Dad, Charlie…I'm not ready to get up yet…Everything hurts….

"Donnie…please…Donnie…"

Eh, shoot…Charlie sounded scared…he'd better…he should…he tried to move again, delicately, and stopped abruptly when giant fingers pushed into the crevices of his lungs, blocking the air. He paused, trying to suss out a speculative breath, then froze as the movement in his chest brought everything back in a rush.

OH. GOD. CHARLIE. And the gun…TWO guns, one of which at least had fired, but he had no idea…still, if Charlie could speak, that was something…and…wait a minute, wait a minute, what was he calling him…? Oh, that was NOT a good sign…he needed to…Soames…he needed to…he pried his mouth open to ask Charlie about Soames, but somehow all that came out was a strangled groan.

"Donnie!" Charlie sounded pleased though, his voice congested but there, and that was good. He could feel light fingers tremble over him; his shoulders, his back, hesitantly brush his head. "Donnie. Don. Just…just…"

Okay, Charlie could talk, but he definitely didn't sound good. Don tried to turn his head just a little, to free his mouth to speak, gradually becoming aware of other sensations; the unmistakable odors of blood and gunpowder, and very near, the pervasive, mingling smells of cigarette smoke and poor hygiene. He lay still for a moment. Guess that told him where Soames was…he concentrated on the uneven landscape mounding beneath him. Didn't seem to be moving anyway. "You…okay?"

Charlie's breath hitched. "No," he burst out bluntly. Then, hastily, when Don shifted painfully to try and get a look at him, "I mean, I'm - I'm not - it didn't…hit me."

Thank God. Thank God. Don collapsed in relief and was still again, collecting stamina. But he'd like to get a look at Charlie for himself. He could feel Soames' deep and steady breathing under his cheek and frowned. Still - first things first. He tried again to pull himself up, more slowly this time, but somehow his limbs were reluctant to obey and he was still lying there. I do NOT have time for this…damn. Well…he took a careful breath. "Charlie…" Okay, maybe another breath…"I need you to…do something…for me."

He'd felt the feather-light pressure of Charlie's hands on his back at his first effort to rise, could sense a wild shaking there, echoed in his voice. "Don, help's - Megan and David and Colby are - are - on - they're coming."

Don tried out a nod, decided maybe that was something better avoided for now when the room flipped on its head, and he closed his eye again to resettle himself. "That's great - great work - but I need - my night table drawer - extra cuffs…" He wasn't sure Charlie was really hearing him in his present state, but after a second, he felt the hands leave his back and heard the shuffle of footsteps among the chaos along the floor. What seemed like an instant later, one of the hands returned to his back, shaking him lightly. Damn. Had he…? Damn, this was bad…he couldn't be…he needed to…

"Here they are."

He could make out the glimmer of metal handcuffs dangling before his face. Good. Good, Charlie. Good man. He cleared his throat, coughed at the slivers of pain the simple movement sent in both directions. "I need you to - cuff him." There was a befuddled silence, and he continued more urgently. "Charlie, I can't…can't…wait…if he…"

Charlie must have understood, because Don could feel him shift and tried to organize himself in a position to watch. It wasn't much, but at least he could offer moral support…He saw Charlie's forehead wrinkle with distaste as he picked up one of Soames limp hands, and he fought the urge to sigh. Probably the first time Charlie had ever had to handle somebody unconscious…probably the first time for a lot of things…Charlie had the cuff encircling Soames' wrist now and he remembered something else. "Not - too tight…"

Charlie choked on a laugh that sounded like it wanted to be a sob. "What - you're worried about his comfort?"

Don tried a smile. "Legalities…one fingertip…of space…" He could tell Charlie was trying to follow instructions, wished he could explain to him how to double lock them too, but he doubted he'd be able to find the breath, even if he could get his hands free to demonstrate. They'd just have to take their chances. He could see Charlie searching for Soames' other arm, watched him awkwardly wrestle it next to the first one. Under other circumstances, seeing someone Charlie's size subduing someone Soames' size might have made him smile, but now it just made his heart hurt. He noticed blood on Charlie's hands and had to swallow down a rising sickness at how incongruous it looked, how wrong. God, I'm sorry, Charlie…so sorry…

"Don?"

Well, at least he'd gone back to calling him by his adult name - that was a good sign - "Hm?"

"These keys - will they work - I mean, your cuffs - ?"

Oh. Good idea. "Yeah - good - thinking…" Something else occurred to him. "The guns…where…?"

"I don't think he's going to jump up in handcuffs and make a grab for the guns." There was a thin edge of tension running through Charlie's voice.

Maybe not, but experience had taught him…"…Please." He heard Charlie's sigh, and more shuffling of feet and movement.

Finally, he heard Charlie ask, "…where…?"

Probably it didn't contain another round, but it never paid to take chances. "By…the door. Careful…shotgun…loaded…" If he even knew how to be careful with a shotgun. This was just…all so…wrong…

"Okay. Now can I try to get you out of those…?" Charlie's voice rose and Don winced. He needed to - he really needed to see how Charlie was…how he REALLY was…

"Sounds…good…" He felt Charlie's fingers against his right wrist now. Even through the dull numbness that had set in they felt like ice, fluttering at such a rate that Don couldn't imagine how Charlie was going to manipulate that tiny key into the lock. Still, after a few false starts, he heard the cuff ratchet open against the sudden release of its unnatural pressure. His arm dropped lifelessly to his side, thumping loudly against Soames' back. He let out a gasp of relief. There was a long pause, while he tried futilely to move his fingers.

"Don…" Charlie's voice sounded very small. "This one looks…um…"

"I know…" The other hand he could still feel, hot and throbbing as though it was ready to burst out of its own skin. Probably not many stitches left there…"Just…if you can, Charlie…" He hated to ask Charlie to touch it, but now that he had time to notice his individual pains, the pressure there was making him half-crazy for relief. Charlie's icy fingers actually felt good against his burning wrist. This time, the cuff didn't spring free, and he could feel Charlie picking nervously at it, trying to pry it loose from the furrow of swollen flesh. He grit his teeth hard, determined not to let a noise escape and make this any worse for Charlie. He heard the clanking as Charlie threw the cuffs aside, felt the soft whoosh of air as he rose to his feet.

"I'm going to get a towel - " his voice wobbled, and the footsteps abruptly disappeared across the hall. Don waited, estimating how much pain it would cost him to put some distance between himself and Soames. Talk about unsavory bedfellows.

"You don't have any clean towels…?"

The footsteps were back, and he wasn't sure he hadn't faded out again for a minute. "Behind…on the laundry…" Charlie's tongue click of disgust reminded him of his mother and for a moment, he almost smiled. A second later, he felt something wrap loosely around his bandaged left hand.

"We'll kill your pillow cases then instead. Would you - ?" Charlie stopped on a stutter. "Would you be more comfortable on your back…?"

And take the pressure off his chest? God, yes. "Please," he rasped.

There was a pause. "I might - it could hurt, Don…"

"Yeah?" Don managed a parody of a chuckle. "That'd be new." He felt Charlie's careful, uncertain fingers on his shoulders again. From the proximity to his skin, he could tell his undershirt was about gone. He steeled himself for what would come, worried about Charlie being able to maneuver his leaden weight, but the next thing he knew, Charlie was shaking his shoulder again, gentle but urgent. Oh, damn, had he…? He really needed to stop that.

"I'm - " he swallowed, felt Charlie's hand still. He turned his head to try and finally get a real look at him, realized Charlie had put a pillow under his head at some point. Phew. That was better. In fact, he had always liked his hardwood floors, but after spending so much time on them today, he was starting to see the advantages of carpet. He glanced at the wall, had to swallow down hard when he saw where the shotgun charge had torn a hole in the plaster and thought about where Charlie had been standing. Close. So close.

"Here - " He could make out Charlie sitting Indian style next to him on the floor, and tried to raise his better hand, the right one, to him, but it slapped heavily back to the floor. "Let me - see you - "

"I said I'm fine - " Charlie's voice broke on the last word and he buried his head in his hands. "Oh, God, Donnie. I nearly shot a man."

Don frowned, squinting at him, searching for wounds, injuries, gradually decided there were none. Physical ones, anyway. "No. You didn't." He tried his right arm again. It thumped awkwardly against Charlie's back, sounding more as if he was clubbing him than comforting him, but Charlie didn't seem to mind.

"I did." It was almost a whisper. "I - never thought I had it in me, but - when I saw - what he did to you - " His voice dropped even lower. "I thought he was going to kill you."

Don was quiet. "Yeah. Well. That was the plan." He felt Charlie's violent trembling, even under his half-dead arm. "Come on. Head between your knees. Deep breaths." His arm seemed disinclined to budge again so he just let it rest across Charlie's back. "Deep. Take…your time…"

Charlie lifted his head, and his eyes were damp. "He - there was - a - an - obituary - on your front door…" Charlie's teeth were chattering now, arms and legs shaking convulsively.

Bastard. "Okay. Head down. Come on…breathe…I'm okay…" Charlie gasped a watery chuckle and Don really did smile this time. "Well, I - will be. I'm more worried about you…right now. Grab a blanket…?"

"Oh…" Charlie sniffed and a blanket landed on Don's chest. It took him a minute.

"Not me - you."

"Oh…"

He watched as Charlie dragged another blanket from the bed and wrapped it around himself, pulling it tight. "Good. Head down - I mean it - it'll help…you did great, buddy, I gotta say. Just perfect. You did real good." He coaxed his right arm into a couple of more thumps.

Charlie dashed at his eyes with one fist. "I was so scared," he confessed.

"Yeah…" Don let his working eye close for a minute. "…me too."

Charlie shook harder. "What if I…what if I…"

"Charlie - " Don tried out his fingers, but they definitely weren't back in action yet. "Buddy - you - the distraction was…perfect. Just what we needed. Don't…worry about the rest."

Charlie shuddered. "I can't…help it…" He swallowed. "I…I…was..so des..perate…and…scared…and…mad…I…I…I…"

Don sighed. This would either be a good decision or a bad one…"Bring me…my gun…?"

Charlie stared at him. "I…I don't know…if I can…"

"Buddy, I promise, you…weren't going to …shoot anybody. C'mon…show you…"

Charlie rose falteringly and staggered over to the door. He returned to his place next to Don carrying the handgun, and sat down heavily. Don moved to take the gun, swearing softly as he realized he would be able to grip it. He gestured to it vaguely.

"See that?"

Charlie frowned at the gun. "You - you mean…this?"

Don nodded, keeping the range of movement small. "Slide stop. Won't…fire…in that position."

Charlie's frown deepened. "I thought that was…the safety."

"Naw…" Don shut his eyes again, just for a minute. "There on…a lot of guns. But not…this one."

Charlie studied the gun. "Then…where's the safety?"

Don noticed his shaking was less severe and hid a smile. One sure way to distract Charlie - with a mental puzzle. "Isn't one." He took a hissing breath. "Automatic…firing pin…lock…"

"Oh." Charlie leaned back against the bed. "How…?"

"Pull…the trigger."

"So…if I had pulled the trigger, though…you're saying…" Charlie's face went green.

"Head between - that's it - " Don tried rubbing his back and made out a little better this time. "Probably. But - don't ever point a gun thinking it won't go off…"

Charlie gave a hysterical little laugh without lifting his head. "I can't believe - " he hiccupped, " - you're giving me a lecture on - gun safety when…when…"

Don half-snorted. "Yeah…all right. Just…you did great…okay? Think about…that."

"Yeah…" Charlie let his head drop back against the bed, then suddenly sat up straight, fumbling inside his jacket. He yanked out his cell phone.

Don watched him through one half-open eye. "…who…you callin'?"

"I - an ambulance, or…I don't know if your team will bring one and you…you need…"

Oh. Don let his eyes sink closed. Good plan. He listened vaguely for Charlie's voice talking into the phone and when he didn't hear it after a prolonged pause, opened his eyes again. "Whaz wrong?" he muttered. He blinked to see Charlie staring at his phone.

"Oh." Charlie squirmed a little. "I was thinking I should…um…call Dad…"

"Oh." Don echoed glumly, letting his head rock back.

Charlie glanced at his watch. "You - you, help should be here - any minute. Maybe we should wait - ?" He looked hopeful.

"Well…" Don let his eyes, which seemed to be having a lot of trouble staying open, close again. "You know…odds are…they'll just…treat me at the hospital…and release me."

"Really?" Charlie sounded deeply skeptical.

"Sure." Don smiled lazily. "I mean - broken ribs…that's just…pain management. Give you a list of…instructions…and send you home…"

"Really?" Charlie sounded more hopeful this time.

"Yeah…" Don tried to suppress a yawn, winced at the way it pulled at his damaged chest. "I mean, unless you've…punctured a lung…or something. And I think we'd…know that…by now." He gave a ragged chuckle.

"That's - that's not funny!" Don opened his eye to see Charlie sitting up straight, clutching his blanket to him. "How can you - that's not even a little funny!"

Sheesh. The kid could be so sensitive sometimes. Well, he was all worked up… "Okay, okay…" Don's eyes fluttered. "…sorry…"

Charlie gave him a peculiar look he couldn't quite figure out.

"No, I'm - " Charlie cleared his throat. "I - didn't mean to - " he rested his arms on his knees. "So, you really think you're - "

"Sure. Piece…of cake." Don twitched his right hand, wincing at the discomfort of the returning blood flow. "Except maybe…head wound. That's…always a crap shoot."

"So maybe it would be - um - more - "

"More - considerate…"

Charlie nodded. "More considerate - to - to wait and tell him - um - when you're all cleaned up and I take you home…?"

"Sure. I mean…spare him all that sitting around…in hospital waiting rooms…"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, considerate." He let his head drop back again, then suddenly leaned forward. "Don…?" he said faintly. "I - I think I'm going to be…"

Don let a hand thud on his knee. "Be my guest," he murmured. "…after today…I don't…expect to get my…security deposit back…on this place…" He heard Charlie give a scratchy laugh and opened his eye to study him, his brows rising fractionally.

Charlie ducked his head. "That was…um…maybe…a…a little funny…"

Don's lips twitched in a smile and Charlie let his head drop back between his knees, but he was smiling too.

There was a splintering sound from the front of the apartment and familiar calls of "FBI!"

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck without raising his head. "The cavalry," he muttered.

"Naw." Don thumped his leg once more. "Just the second string."

TBC