Waiting was always the hardest part. Waiting to hear the doctor's diagnosis on Don, waiting for his dad to arrive, waiting to confront Coop about his claims that he'd had to kill Grayson in self-defense…

Charlie buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply as he slumped in the less-than-comfortable chair of the ER waiting room. His mind was reeling, swirling with chaotic thoughts and whispers of guilt that he was simply too tired to sort out. Was it his fault that Don had gotten hurt? His initial thought was yes but then other things would pop into his head that turned what should have been a black and white issue into a foggy mess of gray areas. Was it his fault that Grayson had gotten shot? Could he have done anything else to prevent the situation and still save Don? Again, the answers were hidden in shades of gray and would stay that way until he was able to pump more details from his brother's old partner. Charlie suddenly let out a frustrated growl in the sparsely populated waiting room, ignoring the odd looks he got from the other two occupants.

He glanced at his watch and wondered what could possibly be taking Megan so long to pick up his father. He'd called her right after he and Coop had uncuffed Don's hands, loaded him into Coop's SUV and started speeding to the hospital. Although he'd wanted to be the one to give Dad the bad news – that should always come from family, in his opinion. He'd known the older man would have taken off in his own vehicle whether he'd been composed enough to drive or not. So, after he'd relayed the gist of what had happened and where they were headed, he'd relented and asked Megan to notify and pick up his father all at once.

Charlie sighed again and began drumming his fingers on his thigh. He tried not to count the passing seconds as the wait dragged on. As much as he didn't want to – as much as he wanted to forget everything that had happened – his mind drifted back to the awful trip to the hospital.

"How's he doing?" Coop's voice drifted from the front seat as his eyes remained glued on the road ahead of them.

Charlie frowned at Don's still form as he lightly brushed his short hair away from the vicious-looking cut. "He's still out." The vehicle suddenly veered to the right and Charlie had to tighten his grip to keep his brother from flying out of his arms. "Careful," he pleaded as he looked up at the back of Coop's head.

"Sorry, Professor, but this really isn't a road so much as a partial clearing in the wilderness."

"Right," the younger man acknowledged, returning his attention to the injured man in his lap. "Hang in there, bro." After several moments of deafening silence, Charlie sneaked a peek back at the redhead. "You really killed Grayson?"

"Like I told you," Coop replied defensively. "He was going to shoot me."

"But Grayson… I'm sure he would never-"

"He did."

Charlie winced at the hardness in the agent's voice and told himself he should stop pursuing the subject – after all, Coop had appeared out of nowhere to rescue him and Don. Giving him the third degree hardly seemed like the best way to repay him, and yet Charlie found himself speaking again. "Are you sure he was aiming at you? Not just in shock about Sammy?"

"For the last time," Coop growled, the anger in his voice very clear. "Holloway was going to shoot me so I shot him first. Then his brother aimed at me and I had to shoot him in self-defense."

"It's just…"

"What would you do if someone killed Don in front of you?"

He subconsciously tightened his hold on the injured man and frowned at Coop. "I… what kind of question is that?"

"One that I think we both know the answer to." Coop sighed and shook his head. "Forget it, Professor. How about you just keep an eye on your brother until we get to the hospital?"

Charlie rode the rest of the way in silence, save for the occasional soft assurances he whispered to his brother. Between utterances, Billy's question kept popping into his head and Charlie found himself thinking the unthinkable. What would he do if someone killed Don in front of him?

A doctor entered the waiting room, drawing Charlie's thoughts back to the present. He perched on the edge of his chair as he watched the doctor's movements and it took every ounce of willpower not to shed a tear as the physician approached one of the room's other occupants, leaving him to continue worrying about Don's wellbeing. As the doctor escorted the other person to the closed ER doors, Charlie slumped in his chair, amazed that something as deceivingly simple as waiting could sap so much energy.

"Charlie!"

His heart soared at the sound of his father's voice, renewing his strength. "Dad," he greeted as the older man enveloped him in a tight embrace.

"Are you okay, son?"

"I'm fine," Charlie assured his father.

"I find that hard to believe," Alan replied as he sat next to his son and studied his weary appearance. "How's Donny?"

"Still waiting," Charlie whispered sadly.

"Do you know what happened?"

The professor's eyes widened as he looked questioningly at Megan, who stood behind his father.

"I thought you'd want to tell him," she informed him.

"Oh… right."

"Where's Agent Cooper?" Megan asked. It had suddenly dawned on her that he wasn't in the room.

"He went back to the scene to help out."

"Oh? I'll go see if I can get in touch with him. Maybe get us some coffee or something, too."

"Not very subtle, that one," Alan observed as they watched her disappear through the doorway.

And you'd know all about subtlety, Charlie thought with a small smile. He quickly sobered as he realized he was going to have to tell his father everything that happened, knowing the older man would not enjoy the tale. He took a deep breath and began to tell his story, starting with his hasty decision to meet his student and going all the way through finding and rescuing Don. He made a point of relaying what he'd managed to glean from Coop – how Don's old partner had paid a little visit to some snitch who had set them up and 'convinced' him to rat out Holloway. Once he had the information, Coop had put in a call to Don's team and then raced to the location on his own, where he'd dealt with the Holloway brothers before finding the Eppes brothers hiding nearby. Charlie offered up a prayer of thanks when a doctor finally emerged from the ER with news about Don, saving him from any questions his father might have had.

--

Don's return to awareness was much less painful than before. Instead of lying on cold concrete with his arms wrenched upward behind him, he discovered he was lying on his back with warm, inviting softness cradling his body. The smell of antiseptic assaulted his senses and he quickly put two and two together – hospital. Though he deplored the idea of being at the mercy of a medical staff, he realized that he was still feeling relief. Why? Something bad had happened… He concentrated really hard, trying to remember…

Sammy Holloway! He'd been captured by the fugitive and… it was gone. His memory went blank on him and Don, though his eyes were still closed, scowled in frustration.

"Don?"

Charlie? The agent struggled to open his eyes but they were being distinctly uncooperative. He cursed his body's refusal to obey his commands and his expression of displeasure intensified.

"Don, are you okay?"

There was a slightly frantic edge to Charlie's voice now that stirred up some memories from the gloom of his mind. Something about moving faster… being late to school? No, that doesn't make any sense. What…? Mud… He could smell it, feel it seeping up around his knees… practically taste it in his mouth. That and… sickness? I was sick, that's right…

"Can you hear me, Don? Say something, bro."

Oh crap, Don thought. I'm scaring him. Better do what he asks. He concentrated really hard, took as deep of a breath as he could manage and tried to form one word, two little syllables to ease his brother's anxiety. He faintly heard a mumbled exhalation that he hoped wasn't his voice, but Charlie's tension seemed to fade away.

"Thank God." A hand slipped into his and held on for dear life. "You really had me worried, you know."

That makes one of us, Don thought, tamping down a surge of frustration at his faulty memory. How about you tell me what's going on? How'd I get…

"Don!"

The injured man barely registered his name as the memories came rushing back, threatening to drown him with their intensity. Oh, God… Charlie… Charlie had been there! Don swallowed deeply, thankful for the soothing hand that had taken up residence on his brow. But he was here and talking so he had to be okay… right?

"..'Kay?"

Charlie laughed nervously. "Me or you?"

You know damn well who I'm talking about, Don silently chastised. His anger gave him the edge he needed to get his eyelids to cooperate and soon the room and his little brother's face, although blurry, swam into view. He tried to give Charlie his best 'stern big brother' look but suspected the usual effect was severely hampered by the fact that he was lying on his back, weak as a kitten. "You," he managed to rasp.

"I'm peachy," the professor said with something in his voice that Don was too off-kilter to identify.

"…Truth."

"I'm sorry, Don." The remorse in his voice was sincere and Don felt him give his hand an apologetic squeeze. "I'm physically fine – not a scratch on me. I'll admit it's going to take a while to get over seeing you… thinking you were…" He heard his brother's voice falter and suspected he was trying to remain composed. "We're both going to be fine," Charlie finally offered and Don wondered who he was trying to convince more.

"Gray-son?" The two syllables took a lot out of him but Don knew how much Charlie cared about his student and felt it was important that he ask.

"He made his choice and now he has to live…"

Charlie's voice gave out and Don waited for his brother to continue. When he didn't, he made a mental note to broach the subject when he was feeling stronger. "Dad?"

"He's here," Charlie assured him. "He went for a walk to get some air. We've spent every second at your bedside until the doctor was able to promise us you would be okay. I finally convinced him to get out of here for a while. "

Every second? How long have I been here?

"Easy, Don. I didn't mean for that to sound like it did. They kept you here overnight. It's lunchtime the day after you were rescued."

"…Psychic," Don whispered with a faint smile on his face.

"Nah, you're just easy to read."

Another memory bubbled to the surface and Don's heart froze. "Coop?"

"Calm down," Charlie crooned as he rubbed his brother's shoulder. "He's fine. He's helping to finish up the case report or something. He should be by later."

Again, there was that something in Charlie's voice. "What… is it?"

"Just… really relieved that you're going to be okay."

Don didn't buy it for a second and squinted as he tried to make his younger brother's face come into focus.

"If you're tired you should rest," the professor observed, mistaking Don's actions for him trying to fend off sleep. "I'm not going anywhere."

Don wanted to stay awake and get Charlie talking but he knew he'd have a better chance of that when he was rested up and feeling stronger. After all, getting his little brother to spill his guts was never an easy task. Always rewarding, but never easy.

"Sleep, Don."

He nodded slightly and let his eyes close only to hear another familiar voice calling from the distance.

"Is he awake?"

"He was."

"Is," he mumbled as he heard his father's footsteps approach the bed.

"Not for long," Charlie chuckled as Don fought to open his eyes again.

"It's okay, Donny," Alan soothed. A gentle hand was in his hair, smoothing the strands while skirting the bandaged area near his temple. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Reassured by his family's presence, Don allowed himself to drift off to a much-needed sleep.

TBC