A/N: Yeah, I'm back on track at last. That is, I have pneumonia, but at least it explains why I'm moving so slow. So weird - like something I put in one of my stories, not at all like something that happens to me in real life. Poor Don may have to suffer for it at some point.

Thank you for your patience, and thank you to everyone who enjoyed "Dear Mom", too. I wasn't sure about the second part of this and that's one reason for a couple of day delay in posting, but my faithful beta liked it, so here it is.

Chapter 32

"Hey."

Don started, but took a minute before opening his eyes, enjoying the feel of sunlight on his eyelids. Eyelid, he mentally corrected as he stretched, trying to place himself. The voice and the background didn't match, and it took him a second to reconcile them.

He opened his eyes. Eye. He was warmed by a flood of sunlight and he listened automatically for outdoor sounds - the faint rustle of birds and wind, the smell of grass. Instead he heard the muffled sound of the PA system, the indistinct chatter of other conversations. Oh. Oh, yeah.

He squinted at the blurry image in front of him. "I wasn't asleep." Ouch. That sounded defensive - even to him.

"Of course you weren't," the blur answered consolingly. "You were working on your tan."

He grinned involuntarily. "I'm telling you the official story. In case you're asked."

"I didn't see a thing." Surroundings wheeled into focus as the figure perched on the edge of a nearby planter and eyed him, considering. "I like the eye patch. Very piratical."

"Yeah - next week I'm getting a gold earring to go with it."

"You look better. Not good, mind you - "

"Thanks. I'm flattered - really." Don fiddled self-consciously with his sling. "Glad you could come all this way to hit a guy when he's down."

"Oh, now, I didn't come empty handed - " A paper bag, darkened in spots with grease, jiggled in front of his face.

He tilted his head, studying it. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Rueben - still warm - extra cheese."

Don smiled as he accepted the bag. "You are my favorite employee. By far. Tell David and Colby."

"I always knew that." Don fumbled a little getting the long sandwich out of the bag one handed, but he noticed with appreciation that Megan made no move to help him. Instead, she produced a bottle of water from somewhere, unscrewed the top and set it next to her on the curved wall of the planter, within his easy reach. "You're going to want that. And I brought breath mints. You'll want that too, after the sauerkraut."

Don took a bite and savored it. "You forget - " he talked around it. "Here in the hospital, there's not a whole lot of need to be kissing sweet."

"I'm thinking of the nurses…your dad…"

Don put down the sandwich and reached for the water, using it as an excuse to avert his eyes. Yeah, yeah. He'd be back with all that soon enough.

Here in the hospital solarium, he could almost imagine he was back to normal - no bed with rails, no tray tables or meds, no smell of sickness, something resembling fresh air. It was almost like being in a park. If you squinted just right, you could even block out the IV stands and wheelchairs around the other occupants.

Mike had walked him down here and helped him get settled in a chair - a regular chair, not a wheeled one - with a promise to come back and check on him in an hour, and a threat if he should try to get up by himself and disturb his ribs. He had been tempted - just a couple of steps, maybe, to see how he could function - but found he needed two hands to push himself up and that even the attempt pulled threateningly on his ribcage. With Dr. Hannigan's warnings about six to eight weeks on a respirator if he upset his healing so far ringing in his ears, he had abandoned the idea as too risky. Funny how many things were attached to your ribs - you just didn't notice until they weren't working.

"So, how long? For the eye patch, I mean?"

"They're gonna try taking it off in a couple of days - let my eye adjust to the light. I'm looking forward to a little depth perception again." Depth perception. That sounded like a metaphor for everything he was missing right now. Depth. Perception. Everything he remembered about this - incident - seemed so black and white and flat as a cartoon. It became 3-D in his dreams. He wondered, not for the first time, what it was that Charlie saw in his dreams. His chewing slowed at the thought, then stilled.

"Hey," Megan nudged his knee. "There could be dessert for someone who finishes his whole sandwich."

He smiled, but it felt a little forced.

"A blondie - with lots of nuts and chocolate chips. You're lucky I didn't eat it myself."

His smile grew rueful, and more genuine. "Those are best with coffee." No coffee, no beer. Two of his dietary staples. He felt like a monk. That is, if monasteries took Jewish boys. He picked half-heartedly at the sandwich. Megan had gone to a lot of trouble - it was the least he could do. "So - " Time for a change of subject. "What brings you here? Taking up catering, or can't resist the lure of the hospital solarium?"

"Maybe I missed you."

"Right." He tried another bite.

"I do miss you," she insisted. "I have to cheer myself up by looking at my own watch every couple of minutes. It's just not the same." Don gave her a look and she smiled. "I wanted to see if you're behaving. And - to do you a little favor. Besides the sandwich."

"Yeah?" Don stopped chewing, curious. "What kind of favor? You going to spring me?"

"That wouldn't be doing you any favors. No, I brought you someone you've been wanting to see." Don wrinkled his forehead at her. "I'll get him. I asked him to wait. I knew you wouldn't want him to see you - um - working on your tan."

Don almost smiled. What the heck was Reeves up to? He tried another bite of his Rueben and shifted in his chair, seeking a more comfortable position. When he saw Megan making her way across the solarium a few minutes later with a medium-sized man in a charcoal grey suit, he was no more enlightened. FBI guy, definitely. But what…? They stopped in front of him.

"Special Agent Eppes, this is Special Agent Burrows. Agent Burrows, Special Agent Eppes."

Don put down his sandwich and wiped his fingers hastily on his robe before holding them out to shake. "Agent Burrows. It's good to meet you."

Agent Burrows took his hand in a strong clasp. "Agent Eppes. It's an honor."

"Don."

"Then you'd better call me Hank."

Megan hung back. "I'll leave you two to talk. But I'll be back before I leave."

Don gave her half a wave and Burrows pulled a chair over. "You doing well, sir? Er - Don?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm - " he gestured dismissively at the sling. "This is, you know, nothing." Burrows offered no comment, so he continued. "Look, you probably know what I want to talk to you about - what happened with my dad?"

Burrows expression didn't change. "Sir? I mean, Don?"

Don sighed. "Yeah. Okay. This is just me, Burrows, and my dad told me all about it - it's okay. This is off the record."

This time, Burrows expression became bland. "I'm sorry - I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Don grit his teeth. "I'm telling you, I saw his hand. I know what happened. There's no reason to pretend it didn't. I just want to try and make sure things stay okay for my dad."

"I wouldn't worry about it, sir. It's not regular, of course, for relatives of victims to talk to the accused, but it's not actionable either."

Don kneaded his forehead. "He did more than talk, Burrows - you and I both know that."

Burrows expression became even more blank. "I'm sorry, sir - I really don't recall anything beyond a short conversation. I'm not sure what we're talking about."

Don studied him, half exasperated and half admiring. "Well, that's interesting," he said at last. "So I guess Soames' nose just dented itself?"

"Oh, that." Burrows features arranged themselves into contrite lines, but there was a faint gleam in his eyes. "Yes, that was embarrassing." He leaned forward earnestly. "I'm thinking that Soames was unsteady on his feet - because of the head injury? - and that's how he fell into the elevator wall. Awkward to explain of course, when it happened on my watch."

Don narrowed his eye at him. "Yeah. I'll bet that was hard to explain."

"If you've read my report - "

Don scoffed. "Like anybody will bring me reports in here. I guess they're afraid I'll get a paper cut and bleed to death or something."

Burrows chuckled, caught himself and hastily restored his sang froid. "I could get you a copy, sir. Don."

"Yeah?" Don tilted his head at him. "I'd appreciate that, Burrows." He glanced down at the sandwich in his lap. "You like Ruebens?"

Burrows leaned forward wistfully. "Sauerkraut?"

"The red cabbage kind."

"Oh." There was a pregnant pause, then Burrows shook himself. "I - I couldn't. That's your lunch - "

Don gestured to the second half of the sandwich. "You'd be doing me a favor. I'm told I won't get dessert unless I finish it all. And that ain't happening without some help."

Burrows reached down eagerly. "Well, when you put it that way…"

They chewed for a moment in companionable silence, then Don said, "So. What about you? You catching any heat over this?"

Burrows face grew bland again. "About…?"

Don choked on his sandwich. "Oh, for the love of God, Burrows - "

Burrows held up a hand. "I haven't had any complaints about my report, if that's what you mean. Everyone seems perfectly satisfied that it happened just as I said."

Don reached for the water. "Huh. Hell hath no fury like lawmen who have lost one of their own, I guess." Burrows opened his mouth, but Don waved him to silence. "Yeah, I know - you have no idea what I'm talking about. I get it. Look, if anyone - does - decide that they have questions about your report? Let me know, okay? I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir. Of course, I can't imagine - "

"Yeah, yeah, okay - duly noted."

"Sir? I mean, Don?"

Don crumpled the waxed paper that had held his sandwich. "Yeah?"

"I do have one question."

Don raised his brows.

"What's for dessert?"

Don's brows lowered. "I didn't say anything about splitting dessert," he reproved. "But…" he sighed resignedly. "I guess I owe you." He shifted again to relieve some of the strain on his ribs. "I'm told it's a blondie - extra chips, extra nuts. I haven't seen it myself, but I think we can take her word. Reeves is a bully, but she's not inclined to lie."

Burrows cleared his throat delicately. "She looked very scary, sir," he agreed politely.

Don made a noise in his throat. "You have no idea."

0

"You get what you wanted out of Burrows?"

Don peeled an eyelid back at her, wondering if it was even possible that he had dozed off again in the time it had taken for her to walk Burrows out. He tried to look alert. "Got everything I'm going to, I guess. Guy really takes the 'don't ask, don't tell' directive to heart."

"Well, at least you know your dad is in good hands." She swatted him lightly on the thigh. "How about you? You look like you could stand the sight of your bed."

Don shrugged. "I like it out here."

"And you're not allowed to go back by yourself?"

Don grinned before he could stop himself. "Pretty much. Mike should be along soon."

"You know what I'm finding really weird?"

"What's that?"

"You haven't asked me a single question about the case."

Don looked at her, then looked away. "What's to ask? I know they transported Soames, I know you have to be lousy with evidence - since I'm missing my phone, my gun and my baseball bat."

"Then here's good news: they've released both your phone and your gun, since it wasn't fired, as immaterial to the case."

Don brightened. "That's great. What about my bat?"

"The weapon? You're kidding, right? It's already labeled Exhibit 12."

Don grumbled under his breath, then stopped. "Are you saying you can get me my phone?"

"Are you even allowed those in the hospital?"

"One way to find out."

"Well, there's more than one way, actually, but I guess you're a fan of the 'ask for forgiveness, not permission' one."

"I just want to use it as a clock."

"Right. Why do I feel like I'm aiding and abetting?"

Don flashed her his best smile. "Because you have a suspicious mind. C'mon, what do you say?"

Megan sighed. "All right, but if it gets me in trouble, I'm not going down alone - I'm taking you with me."

"Deal." One little win in the 'D.Eppes' column. "Thanks for lunch, by the way." He hesitated, trying to figure out how to broach a different subject. "Dad tells me you recommended one of the guys in Trauma Recovery to Charlie," he offered after a minute.

Megan shrugged, but she had that 'profiling in progress' look in her eye. "Seemed to make the most sense to choose somebody with some expertise in his situation."

"Yeah. Definitely." He hesitated again. "So, how's that going? He hasn't been around for a couple of days. I mean, I know he's starting up school again and everything…"

The 'profiling in progress' look sharpened. "I haven't seen much of him myself."

"Probably just busy with school, then." Don was sorry he'd brought it up. "He - wants me to teach him how to shoot." Sheesh, Eppes. Maybe you could use a little brush up in the 'don't ask, don't tell' directive yourself.

"Yeah?" Megan looked thoughtful. "That's normal, I guess. After feeling out of control, it's natural to look for a way to feel in control again."

"I guess so."

"You don't approve?"

"No, I - " Don shook his head. "I don't approve or disapprove. It just - feels weird."

"Weird how?"

Don gazed across the solarium, saw Mike's burly figure moving toward him. Maybe it was rushing to get it out before Mike got there that made him uncharacteristically blunt, or the drugs, or the fuzziness that clung to the edges of his skull, but to his own surprise, he blurted out, "I feel like - somehow, I ruined everything."

TBC