A/N: Would I forget Alan? Not in a million years. There are still a few things left to resolve - we're on the wind down, but it will take a bit.

Simanis, if you look at the end of Chapter 19, Don does black out. Charlie rouses him at the top of Chapter 20, and then he experiences a number of small black outs throughout.

Chapter 22

The doors flew open with another clang and Charlie blinked this time, astonished to discover he'd been half-asleep. There were yelling voices and many hands - a bewildering cacophony after the quiet cocoon of the ambulance, and he couldn't seem to get a grip on his bearings. Then he saw hands reach for Don's gurney and lift it down to the pavement and he felt himself come to life.

"Wait!"

The gurney grew mysteriously taller, a crowd of multi-colored, scrub-clad bodies clinging to the sides, saying things he couldn't quite follow. Two people took his arms too, one on either side, and helped him out of the ambulance, but his eyes were on the gurney, hurrying away from him. He tried to twist in their grasp and follow after it, but they kept hold of him, guiding him, asking him something that he didn't quite catch. He recognized Jerry the EMT's voice in the confusion, hurrying along with them.

He tried to ask Jerry where they were taking Don, but he had disappeared, leaving him with the two strangers. They steered him into a small, curtained cubicle and helped him up onto the examining table in the middle. One of them was skimming a clipboard - she looked up from it and smiled.

"Why don't you just lie back and rest for a minute, Mr. Eppes? A doctor will be with you shortly."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest, but one was easing him back on the table, while the first one elevated his feet. He discovered to his surprise that he felt weak and drained. Still, as they tried to leave, he managed to grab one's hand. "My brother?" he asked, in response to her questioning look.

She paused. "Was he the one brought in with you?"

He nodded. "Where - ?"

She adjusted the thinsulate blanket around him. "He's probably in one of the other cubicles. I'll see if I can find anything out for you."

He nodded again, grateful, and let his eyes close. He should have asked which hospital this was, too. Because eventually he really did need to call -

"Charlie?"

Charlie's eyes flew open at the sound of curtain rings singing against metal. "Dad?" Wow. Vivid dream.

"Charlie - !"

Charlie rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto one elbow, blinking to clear his vision. There were hands again, helping him sit all the way up, but this time the touch was familiar. "Dad - " he let his legs swing over the side of the table, struggling to merge the familiar with the unfamiliar. "What - who called you?"

"Megan." The tone was sharp, and Charlie found himself envying Don, safely tucked away in some other cubicle at the moment, out of reach. "Evidently she's under the impression that I'm still a part of this family. Unlike some others I could name." He was pulling at the thinsulate, trying to get a better look underneath. "What's this for? Where are you hurt? Are you all right?"

"Yeah - um - we - we were going to - um call - " He managed to stop himself from blurting that it had been Don's idea to wait. Wouldn't really help at this point anyway.

"What's this? Are you bleeding?"

The frantic note in his voice made Charlie wince, and he stared down at the bloody handprints smeared on his t-shirt in some surprise. Wow. He had no memory…he must have wiped his hands…"It's - it's not mine," he assured hastily. "It's must be D- " he stopped himself quickly, regrouping. THAT wouldn't help…" - not - mine," he repeated feebly.

Alan's hands patted at his shoulders, his arms, eyes devouring his face. After a minute, his hands stilled on Charlie's upper arms, gave him a little shake. "What on earth happened? I get a call out of the blue from Megan, telling me that both of my sons are on their way to the hospital, but that I shouldn't worry - naturally, because what could there possibly be in that statement to make me worry…?!?" His voice rose and he dropped onto the small rolling stool next to the table, his hands sliding down to rest on Charlie's knees. He lowered his head for a moment, and when he lifted it again, his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm - " Charlie stopped abruptly, shocked by a sudden tightening of his throat. Oh, no, no, no…he wasn't going to…? He clenched his jaw and nodded wordlessly.

Alan's face shifted into a frown. "Tell me what happened. Where's your brother?"

"Um - " Charlie fought to steady his voice. "An - another cubicle. They said they'd tell me - " The events of the last hour were suddenly welling up inside him, rising like a wave and crashing over him. "D - Dad - "

Alan tightened his grip on his knees, searching his face. "Tell me. Were you at a crime scene? Charlie, I know you're a grown man and it's none of my business, but - "

"Dad. No." Somehow he found his voice. "I mean - I didn't think so anyway - "

"Alan."

Charlie looked up in surprise. Alan rose and turned to the cubicle entrance, a hand resting on Charlie's shoulder.

"Megan. David."

Megan smiled. "Sorry I'm so late - I hoped to meet you at the entrance to the emergency room, but David drives like an old man." She gave him a playful glare.

David folded his arms. "We were not in hot pursuit and it is every law enforcement officer's duty to follow the traffic laws whenever possible."

"A little siren wouldn't have killed you." She moved forward and took Alan's hand. "I'm sorry I was so cryptic on the phone - I just don't have a lot of information myself yet. Now that you've seen Charlie's all right, David really needs to take his statement, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside…?"

Alan looked back at Charlie, forehead creased. "I'd like to - is there any reason I can't be here for that?"

David raised his brows. "That's up to Charlie."

Charlie looked from one to the other. Telling this story twice suddenly seemed like more than he was up for and there was something solid and reassuring about his father's familiar presence. "Stay," he said simply.

Alan nodded, leaning against the examining table next to him.

Megan looked from one to the other and smiled again, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "All right. While you guys do that, I'm going to find Don and see if he's up to talking to me. Colby's covering Soames."

David snorted. "With his fists?"

Megan's smile grew prim. "I'm sure Granger will only apply those interrogation methods he deems most appropriate."

David lips twitched. "That's what I said."

Megan touched his arm and moved toward the curtained exit.

"Megan - " She paused with a hand on the privacy curtain. "Let - let Donnie know that I'll be there just as soon - "

Megan bobbed a nod. "Of course." She pulled the curtain closed behind her.

David hooked the rolling stool with one foot and seated himself, flipping open a pad and finding a clean page. "So. Charlie. " He clicked his pen. "From the top?"

"Yeah." Charlie looked from David to Alan, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, you know I went to Don's - "

Alan looked at him sharply. "His apartment - ?" Charlie nodded. "What was Don doing at his apartment in the middle of the day?"

"He was trying to catch some sleep. I mean, that's what Megan - "

Alan shook his head. "He usually comes to our place when he needs to crash - it's closer - "

"Mr. Eppes - " David softened his interruption with a smile. "Don went home to pick up some things he thought might be useful to the case. He phoned from there to say he was going to try and catch a little sleep - we've been putting in some pretty rough hours on this case." He turned to Charlie. "So. Charlie. You went to Don's - ?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I knocked, but there wasn't any answer. I knew you said he might be asleep, so I let myself in…" Images rose up before him and he swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Take your time, Charlie." David's voice was soothing, but he could feel his father shift uncomfortably.

"I - something didn't feel - " he shook his head. "It's hard to explain. But I smelled cigarette smoke, and - well - I thought I'd - check Don's room, but - the hall - " he broke off, with a sideways glance at his father. "I - I guess I already told you about that, on the phone."

"You told Megan," David pointed out patiently. "And I need everything for your official statement." He smiled his kind smile again. "Sometimes you think of things you don't even know you remember when you tell it the second time around."

Charlie sighed resignedly. "Okay. There was - blood - everywhere, it seemed." He felt his father jerk next to him. "So, I - I left and went down the hall a little ways and called Megan - told her I needed help."

David smiled encouragingly. "That was good thinking."

"Where was Don?" Alan blurted.

David's smile tightened. "Mr. Eppes - "

"He - I wasn't sure. At least - Megan told me to wait outside, that help would be there in twenty minutes. But I hadn't - I just wanted to make sure Don was…" He couldn't quite bring himself to say the word 'alive'. He rubbed his hands over his face.

"Go on, Charlie. Take your time."

Charlie took a deep breath. "So - um - I - went back - "

"Charlie!" The word exploded from Alan and Charlie turned to him defiantly.

"I had to know! You can't - you couldn't really expect me to just walk away, not - "

"Mr. Eppes." David was on his feet now. "Alan."

He smiled again and Charlie was impressed with how polite and neutral he seemed, when he couldn't possibly really feel anything of the kind. Almost - detached…he winced. Ouch. He'd think about that one later.

"Alan. I know that this is very hard to hear - but if you continue to interrupt, I'll have no choice but to ask you to wait outside until Charlie is finished."

Alan ran his hands over his hair, pacing in a small circle. After a minute, he took a deep breath. "Don is alive." He looked directly at David.

"Yes," Charlie interrupted. "I rode in with him."

Alan nodded, blowing out a breath. "And Charlie is…" He stopped pacing and settled himself on the table next to Charlie. "All right, I'll - I'll try to contain myself. I certainly won't be able to sit out there and just wait for you now."

"Then you know how I felt," Charlie mumbled, half under his breath.

David ducked his head hastily and became very busy with his notebook. "Go on, Charlie," he said, in a curiously muffled voice.

Charlie nodded. "I went back. I was quiet - I just wanted to know - and I heard Don's voice. Don and somebody else's…a stranger's…" He wrinkled his forehead. "What did you say his name was…?"

"Soames." David looked up from his notebook and gave him an approving nod. "Mickey Soames. Seems Don and his partner, Cooper, brought him in on Fugitive Recovery detail years ago."

"Fugitive Recovery," Alan muttered bitterly, then raised his hands at David's questioning glance. "Just thinking aloud."

David nodded to Charlie to continue.

Charlie cleared his throat. "There was - there had been - this - sawed off shotgun - in the hall. Earlier. Did I mention that?" David shook his head. "There was. When I went back, it was gone…and I could hear…" He closed his eyes again. Maybe he couldn't do this after all. Don had told him once that he was always okay until it was all over…he thought maybe he could suddenly understand what he was talking about.

"What could you hear, Charlie?" David's voice was steady, mellow.

"I could hear - what he was doing to Don." He gripped the sides of the examining table and studied the tops of his sneakers. "And…and then I heard…" He couldn't even look at his father, but he could sense him there, standing very still.

"Go ahead, Charlie."

Charlie lifted his head. "You know that sound a shotgun makes…not like a handgun…loud. That sound when it's getting ready to fire…?"

"Sure. That's the ammo dropping into the chamber."

"Yeah. I heard that." He could feel his father's hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight, wasn't quite sure which one of them it was for. Both, maybe. "So I figured - um - that he was going to - you know - "

"I need you to put it in words for me, Charlie. I'm not allowed to assume." David's tone was very gentle, as though he were coaxing a wounded animal.

Charlie sucked in a breath. "I figured - he was going to shoot Don. And that I didn't have twenty minutes to wait. Fifteen, then, I think." There, he had said it. It made something inside him shake, but he had said it.

"So…what did you do then?"

"I, uh - " Charlie did shoot a glance at Alan this time. "I figured I needed to…buy time. For you guys to get there. So, I…" Okay, here it goes. "Don's…gun was on the hall table - " He felt his father rise abruptly and move away and he lifted his head to track his movements.

"And?"

Charlie dragged his eyes away from his father's back. "I - uh - I figured - I could - point it. Not - not fire it, just - slow things down."

"Okay. So what did you do?"

"I picked it up and I - leveled it, I guess." He paused. "That's a lot harder than it looks, you know? How do you manage to keep it steady?"

"Practice." David smiled at him. "What then?"

Charlie closed his eyes, trying to see the scene again. "I think I - kicked in the bedroom door. No, I know I did, because I remember thinking that I couldn't remember the last time I'd kicked something…"

Not since he was a kid, he was sure, but there was something satisfying about it too - forceful. It was also very, very loud - no going back now, Charlie. Remember, you're just buying some time. He took a step inside the room, his extended arms feeling stiff and peculiar in front of him, and froze. He thought about yelling - didn't the FBI guys always yell? But his lungs seemed to press in on themselves, strangling sound. Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod…

The room reeked of smoke and sweat and blood, overwhelming his senses. He caught sight of Don, torn between relief at seeing him alive and horror at what seemed to be a hundred wounds and marks caked with blood, and he instantly moved to throw the gun aside and run to him, but something in Don's face stopped him and he jerked the gun upward again, struggling to keep it steady. It shook like a leaf in a breeze, but he managed to keep it pointing forward, and he figured that would be good enough. Point, Charlie - just point. You don't have to…wow - how big IS that guy…? He let his eyes travel upward to a large man's scarred face, his shirt bulging with muscles, his head shaved bald. Like David. He caught sight of the man's eyes and stamped down that thought. NOT like David - this guy was NOTHING like David. He was…he swallowed. He suddenly felt completely out of his depth. He clung to the gun like a talisman, wishing he could think of something to say.

"Baby brother, right?"

The low, gravelly voice was the same one he'd heard from the hall, weirdly familiar, and Charlie blinked. How could he know…? Then he remembered the paper taped to Don's door, and all the familiar pictures on the crime board, and his jaw stiffened. Of course he knew. He knew pretty much everything. Anger coursed through his veins and he tightened his clumsy grip on the gun. Point. Point. Just point.

"Come to say good-bye?"

He saw the shotgun rise, seemingly out of nowhere, watched it swing in Don's direction, fought the urge to close his eyes and block it out.

Don't look, don't look, don't look…he wanted to look at Don, seek strength and reassurance, but knew the sight of his battered brother, gun thrust against his head, would shatter his teetering his resolve. He kept his eyes determinedly away, trying to see only the gun in his grip and the mountain of a man before him. The man said something else, but he was caught in the chatter of his own thoughts and missed it. He shook himself mentally. Steady, Charlie. This isn't forever. You don't have to hold on forever. Help is on the way. Just - just - point.

"Your timing's not bad."

Charlie wished he would shut up; the talking was distracting, the edge in the low voice turning his insides to jelly.

"You're just in time to watch."

Charlie felt his hands tighten convulsively on the weapon, watched the gun tip dance in front of him, was startled by the rush of anger and revulsion that flooded him. For a terrible moment, the trigger slid against his finger. Maybe firing this thing wouldn't be so hard after all.

Charlie's eyes flew open.

"You're doing great Charlie."

Charlie glanced around, but this was definitely the emergency room cubicle, not Don's bedroom. He looked for his father and realized in some surprise that he was standing next to him again, one hand lightly massaging the back of his neck. Charlie leaned into the hand, feeling his rigid muscles loosen under the well-known touch.

"What happened next?"

"I didn't fire." He wasn't quite sure why he felt it was so important to explain that. "My - my cell phone rang and I - looked down at it where it was, in my pocket - " He frowned. "That - that probably wasn't the right thing to do, huh?"

David patted his knee. "Sorry. That was probably us calling."

"No, I - I think it was good - I heard Don yell for me to get down, and I dropped. I couldn't see what happened next, but I heard the shotgun go off - God, it was so loud - like an explosion. And the floor shook, and when I looked up…" He closed his eyes again, felt his father slide onto the examining table, close to him, one arm around his shoulders. "The guy - Soames - was still, and so was Don - just - still - and there was blood. And I thought - " He clamped his eyes tighter shut, wishing it would make the images go away. "But - nobody was hit. I lost track of Don's gun, but it didn't fire. Don told me later that it couldn't. So, I - I didn't fire it. I didn't fire…" He pressed his hands over his eyes, trying to push away the pictures of blood and smoke and terror, and the echo of Soames' coarse, taunting voice.

"I never fired it," he whispered again, the shock and shame suddenly slamming into him, hard and unyielding as a brick wall. "But, God, oh God - I - really wanted to."

TBC