A/N: Well, I'd really hoped to post the next bit with this as well, but I'm already later than I like to be, so hopefully that will be up in the next couple of days. Whose bright idea was it to schedule the holidays and finals right next to each other anyway?

I'm glad you enjoyed David - I have a soft spot for him myself and he's been seen so little so far this season. Anyway, semester break! Woo hoo!

Chapter 23

"Hey. Tall, dark, and battered." Megan waited until she saw Don's one uncovered eye slide open and blink at her. The faint movement around his mouth might have been intended as a smile.

"Hey." It was almost a whisper, and she had to move a little closer to hear. "You still…hangin' around?"

She lifted her pad high so he could see it. "You know how it is. An agent's work is never done." She dragged over a chair, peering under the table at a plastic tub stashed there. "Those your clothes? Cause I'm gonna want them."

"Got me." The eye fluttered and closed. "How's…Charlie?"

"Asking about you. Your Dad's with him."

The lid lifted again, tried to focus on her. "Dad's here?"

"Mm hm."

He breathed something on a sigh, too quietly for her to make it out.

"What do they have to say about you?"

"…going to x-ray. See my ribs. I…know I have broken ribs, but I guess they need…class evidence."

"Hey. Nobody likes a wise guy." She pulled a small camera out of her purse and held it up in what she gauged to be his line of vision. "I'm - um - gonna need to take pictures, too. I could get one of the crime scene photographers down here if you like, but I thought you might prefer…"

The single eye blinked at the camera, then closed. "Knock…yourself out…"

"All right," Megan forced a smile. "Say cheese…" She focused on the cheekbone where an angry red swelling was already deepening to purple and clicked, trying to maintain a serene expression. "I should get your eye, too, but I don't want to mess with any bandages."

Don didn't bother to open his good eye. "Ophthalmologist…after x-rays, I think…"

"Maybe I'll tag along there, then. I have to - um - ?" She gingerly folded back the thin blanket and pulled delicately on the strings that held his hospital gown closed. Don shivered and she paused. "You cold?" He shrugged. "I was actually looking for a 'yes' or a 'no'."

The eye blinked open, hazed with mild irritation. "…little."

"I'll be quick…" She parted the hospital gown, pulling the two halves to the sides out of the way and stepping back to get a clear shot. Her hands tightened around the camera, her gorge rising to fill her mouth with a bitter tang. She must have waited too long, because Don tried to turn his head to look at her.

"…done?"

"Hm? Almost…" She snapped hastily, blinking hard to clear her vision, shooting from a number of angles, then on zoom. "You know, you have an actual boot sole pattern on one side." She tried to keep her voice conversational. "Very clear. Matchable."

"Good…evidence."

"Yeah." Her voice came out sounding a little hoarse. "I'm gonna get the ligature marks now. Let me know if I hurt." She carefully closed the hospital gown and arranged it for full coverage, meticulously re-tying the bow and pulling the blanket back up over his chest. "You have any marks on your back, do you think?"

Don gave a rusty chuckle. "Oh, yeah."

"I'll wait for medical personnel to turn you over, then. Same goes for the back of your head, I guess, though I definitely need a shot of that one." She lifted his right hand on top of the blanket, arranged it for optimum light. She shot one side, then turned it carefully to get the other. "Almost done," she encouraged cheerily. Reaching for the left one, she wondered if she sounded as fake and stiff as she felt. This hand was loosely wrapped in a towel, and she bit her lip when she pushed the cloth carefully aside to reveal the wrist.

Probably she had stared at it for too long again, because Don said, without bothering to look at her this time, "…that it?"

"Sorry - " she snapped a couple of photos, hastily tucking the towel back over the ugly seepage. "Photography isn't my specialty."

"Wasn't…planning on ordering…5x7s…anyway…"

Megan forced a chuckle, picking up the right hand to return it to its spot by his side. "Your fingers are freezing."

"…circulation."

"Uh-huh." She took the hand between her own two, gently massaging first one finger, then the next. "How's that - does that hurt?"

"…nice." His face relaxed for a minute, then the brows pinched together in a frown. "You…get my…gun?"

"Your gun? At the crime scene?"

"Yeah…wasn't fired…not…really part…"

"I didn't see it. The crime scene mice will process it and return it to you."

Don sighed, and she could tell that wasn't the right answer. "It wasn't…any reason why…?"

"Why what? We can't suppress it? You know the answer to that."

"Yeah, yeah…I know…I just…"

"Come on. It's not like you don't have a permit. If it's not real evidence, I'll bet they run your prints and release it right away."

The hand in hers jerked, but didn't pull away. "Not mine. Charlie's."

Megan wrinkled her nose. "Charlie's…?"

"Prints." The sigh was heavier this time. On…my gun."

Megan glanced down at the puffed and torn flesh ringing the wrist of the hand she held, a livid dark line bisecting it. Of course - Don wouldn't have been able to handle a gun any more than he would have been able to cuff anyone. Something caught in her throat and she had to clear it away before she could say, "I told Charlie to go downstairs and wait outside."

Don seemed lulled half to sleep by the hypnotic massaging, but he frowned at that, laboriously re-opening his eye. "I know." He tried to read her expression and the frown deepened. "What's…this?"

"I - uh - " she shook her head, her vision suddenly unaccountably blurred. "I just can't believe how badly I messed this one up." She looked away, eyes focused on the fingers wrapped in hers.

"You did." Don shifted painfully. "How's…that?"

"Don, this guy followed an almost picture perfect MO, right to the end - murdered people in their own homes with their own possessions. And yet we acted like it was somehow smart of us to get you as far as your car and send you home alone every night. And guess what? Big surprise - in your own home, with your own possession…"

"Yeah. Well. Don't think you're the only one who should have…caught that. Too close to this one…maybe." He sighed, then winced.

"I should have made the connection. It does say behaviorist on my resume, remember?"

"Behaviorist…I remember." He watched her carefully. "Don't remember anything about…omniscient."

"Any NAT could have figured it out," Megan objected fiercely. "And I had a bad feeling about this one all along - something I couldn't shake - I just couldn't quite get my brain around it. I guess I've got it now - more than a little too late."

Don squinted at her suspiciously. "You're not…crying…?"

"Of course I'm not crying!" Megan sniffed inaccurately.

"Good." He watched her warily. "Never…know what to do…"

Megan rose and took a turn about the cubicle, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. "Then I - I - couldn't even make Charlie listen to what I told him to do - "

Don chuckled, swore with soft ferocity at the resultant pain. "You…ever figure out a way to…make Charlie do…anything but what he wants…? Come tell me…how."

"He could have been killed, Don."

Don sobered immediately. "I know."

Something in his tone pulled her up short. "It's not your fault."

He gave her a humorless smile. "Yeah."

"What did he think he was doing?"

Don's brows quirked. "Saving…my life?"

Megan stopped pacing and looked at him. Her voice was much quieter when she asked, "And - did he?"

Don's smile twisted, half rueful, half proud. "Sure…looked that way…to me."

Megan returned to the chair and sank into it. "So, you're saying if Charlie had followed my directions and hadn't gone back - "

"Yup." Don's fingers flickered, trying out their range of movement. "Sometimes there's just…no good answer…huh?"

She shook her head slowly.

His eye dropped wearily shut again. "Drives me crazy…that he was in danger because of…me…"

Megan smiled slightly. "Yeah, well, bad news - you're not the only one with the right to look after the people you love."

"I know." He tried to make a fist, grimaced at the clumsy movement. "Just - scared me, y'know? Keep trying to think of a way…to make sure…"

"Hm." Megan chuckled. "Tell you what - I'll make a deal with you. I'll give up on the idea of being omniscient if you'll forget about trying to be omnipotent."

Don sipped in a slow breath. "Tough…bargain…"

Megan laughed. "It's the only kind I bother with. I should be taking your statement."

"Yeah…Charlie's…?"

"David's doing it. Your Dad stayed with him."

"Dad." Don's forehead puckered.

"He said to tell you he'll be along."

"I'll…bet."

"What?" Megan gave him a perplexed smile.

Don's face tightened. "Just not…feeling up to…that discussion."

"What? You think he's going to give you a hard time?"

Don blinked thoughtfully, then shut his eye tight.

Megan laughed. "Trust me. No one is going to give you a hard time." She leaned her elbows on the examining table and propped her chin on her fists. "Because you, my friend, look downright pitiful."

"Hey," he protested weakly.

Her smile broadened. "I just call 'em like I see 'em. In fact, I'd say you should be able to ask for anything you want for a while. Don't waste the opportunity."

"Yeah?" Don gave her a muzzy grin. "Y'think?"

She held up her fingers in a Girl Scout pledge. "Absolutely."

His mouth lifted at one corner, and she thought she actually detected a glimmer deep in his eye. "Then can you…talk to evidence recovery…about getting my bat back?"

TBC