At last, the end is here! Thanks to all for reading, and if I haven't replied to reviews yet, it's because I'm L.A.Z.Y. I will soon, I promise. Until then, I am going to go be one with my sofa.

At the moment, Alan couldn't decide which urge was the strongest – the one to vomit, the one to sob with relief, the one to laugh manically. He had expected those things to fade with the passage of time, but as he sat there staring at the still form of his youngest son, the unwelcome urges and emotions kept bubbling to the surface. Fortunately for everyone, he was too damn exhausted to do any of them, and so he just sat and waited. Just like he had done for those hours he didn't know whether Charlie was alive or dead. He hated it then, and now wasn't really that much better. It felt as though the question of Charlie's life or death was still very much up in the air.

The doctors kept saying Charlie's continued unconsciousness was a matter of his body needing to restore itself after what was evidently a trying couple of days of very little sleep and even less food. The dehydration was probably the cause of his intense reaction to head trauma, they had told him. Everyone seemed quick to assure him that everything was just fine, but his eyes told him otherwise. Charlie had always been a hyperactive child. Always moving, always thinking and this current state of utter stillness unnerved Alan like nothing else. Even Charlie getting lost in the numbers wasn't as upsetting, because he understood that just a little bit more now. He touched the top of Charlie's hand. It was cool to the touch.

Alan had been alone for hours now. The hospital staff had kicked Larry and Amita out promptly at the end of visiting hours and he was certain they had wanted to enforce the rule with him, but he flat out refused to leave his son's bedside. It would take a lot more than an order to move him, as long as his presence in the room wasn't negatively impacting Charlie's well-being. He hoped the opposite was actually true, that if his son heard familiar voices he would find some comfort amid wherever darkness surrounded him.

"You should see the flowers Amita brought for you," he said softly. He stroked his thumb along the knuckles of Charlie's cool hand. "They're as beautiful as she is. They sure brighten up this room."

He sighed. The only thing about talking to someone who couldn't respond was…the whole not getting a response part. Alan had to and hated to admit he was getting disheartened. He reluctantly let go of Charlie's hand, resting his elbows on knees and cradling his face with his hands. He closed his eyes, just for a moment. He knew it was irrational, but he worried that if he left the room for too long or simply took his eyes off of his son, he'd miss something important. What that important thing that was, he didn't know. Movement, perhaps. Right now a twitch of an eyelid would be the most beautiful thing in the world to him.

"Have you slept at all?"

He sat up in his chair and looked toward the sound of the voice. Don stood at the door, lingering there as if uncertain of his welcome. Alan waved a hand, ushering him in. The doctors could gripe if they wanted, but there was no way Don was going anywhere, either. As he entered, Alan assessed his conscious son just as closely as he'd been watching Charlie not move. Don looked so ragged he really didn't have the right to pester anyone else about getting sleep, no matter the concern behind it. He decided now wasn't quite the appropriate time to make his own commentary. He figured Don had been working hard before Charlie disappeared, and hadn't had any sleep since. At least he himself had the benefit of normal sleep before all of these horrible, sleepless hours.

"Off and on," he replied at last, lying his tired butt off. Alan didn't plan on sleeping until he knew for sure Charlie was okay, and by the haunted look in Don's eye he could add his oldest son to his list of sleep-depriving concerns. "I'm still going on caffeine, I think."

"Yeah, caffeine, the legal wonder drug. I know that feeling." Don smiled, but didn't look like he really meant it, or that he believed Alan's fib. He tipped his chin toward the bed. "Has he woken up?"

"No." Alan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "The doctors keep telling me that's normal, but it's still nerve-wracking. He hasn't shown any signs of improvement. Then again, he hasn't shown any signs of worsening, either. That's something."

"He looks so young." Don cleared his throat. "Younger than usual, I mean. He doesn't really look like himself when he's like this."

"No, he doesn't."

Don stood at the foot of the bed for a second, before slowly circulating. He found a place to sit on the windowsill. There was probably another chair around outside they could drag in. Alan thought about suggesting that, but figured his son knew what he wanted. He had this overwhelming urge to coddle Don now, which was probably reaction to stress coupled with his own natural need to hover. Neither of his sons would probably appreciate coddling, Don less than Charlie. He stared at Charlie's limp hand, studied his lax, unshaven face. The urge to coddle made way for a darker, unhappy emotion.

"Find the girl?" he said.

Alan had been granted the barest of briefings, mostly assurances that Charlie hadn't been hurt before the…apparent accident while trying to escape. He didn't know if he really believed it. It was alarming to see some mistreatment had occurred before that, though maybe not the kind of abuse that left bruising. A relatively slight man deprived of food for a few days showed the signs. He randomly thought about the damned beef stew in the freezer, how it would stick to Charlie's ribs, which he desperately needed.

"No. It's like she vanished into thin air. Took off and left Charlie like that," Don said, anger very apparent in his tone. Alan glanced up and caught his son mentally replaying what had to have been a grueling scene. He could see it in the tightness of the lips, the tiny tick in his jaw. "Just left him lying on the floor."

She probably thought he was dead, Alan thought with a shudder. He couldn't say that out loud.

"She was probably scared," he said instead.

"Don't defend her, Dad."

"I'm not," he said, but realized it had sounded that way. He envisioned this faceless girl enraged. Violent. "I just…I'm glad she was just scared. She could have been something else. Something worse."

"Yeah, because a stalker isn't worse."

No one had told him anything beyond Charlie's medical condition, but he wasn't an idiot. Whatever had gone down must have been pretty bad. He imagined Charlie lying on the floor, unresponsive and pale, and he shuddered. Alan sneaked another look at Don, who wasn't looking at him but, not surprisingly, had his eyes fixed on Charlie. He didn't have to see son's eyes to know they were as dark and haunted as they'd been when he first arrived. Probably more so. He'd seen that look far too many times. As grateful as he was to have Don rejoin their lives, it was sometimes painful too, to bear witness to something he could no longer cure with a band-aid and a kiss.

"You'll find her." You'll move heaven and earth, he thought. "She's just a college student."

"I won't actually be doing much of anything. I'm officially off the case." Don looked at him, apparently saw the surprise on his face, and shook his head slightly. "Not entirely by choice. My superiors finally caught wind of what was happening. Breaking the rules isn't something they take lightly, even if it's family. Especially if it's for family. But it's okay. I know David will handle it and keep me apprised. We were lucky they didn't reassign it out of my team completely."

Alan nodded, didn't ask the question about the magnitude of the ramifications Don faced. Whatever happened, he was glad his son had been able to find Charlie. Don might not always appreciate Charlie, and vice versa, but he knew that buried in that frustration was a whole lot of tenderness and affection. He knew his sons loved each other even if they didn't always like each other much. He was actually relieved Don would have the time to deal with it all, and besides, the most important thing had already been taken care of – Charlie. Now if only that most important thing would wake up. He looked at the clock. It'd been twelve hours since his race to the hospital. He was becoming an expert at keeping track of time. And at worrying.

"It was scary, Dad," Don admitted. He moved to stand by the bed again, extending a hand to lightly run a finger along Charlie's immobilized right arm. "Seeing him like that, I mean. I've seen people with concussions before, but this was…this was Charlie. I'm not used to him being so confused and vacant. It was really scary."

The need to hug filled Alan again. Don didn't often let any of what lurked beneath his surface up to see the light of day, and to see it was to feel it himself. He didn't want to envision what Don had seen, what had scared him enough to make him admit it.

"Hey, no dwelling," Alan said, playing his part as father. He had to be confident and allay his kid's fears, ignore his own for the moment. "You got to him in time. He's okay. He'll be okay."

"Yeah, I keep telling myself that. Wish he'd wake up, though."

They fell into silence again. Alan leaned back in his chair, tipping his head against the back of it. He was so damned tired. Now he didn't want to vomit or sob or laugh anymore, he just wanted to sleep. He was afraid to let himself do that before Charlie opened his eyes, though. He made himself sit up, then stand. He went over to one of the many flower arrangements clustered on a small table opposite the bed and toyed with the baby's breath. The distraction didn't last long. As had been the case for the ten plus hours he'd sat in the hospital, his attention returned to Charlie. He had this crazy idea that if he stared long enough, his son would wake up. It wasn't the first time he'd had that idea. It hadn't worked yet. He yawned, and spotted Don glaring at him.

"Like you should talk, mister," he said. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Yeah, I have. What about you?"

"If I tell you you're both handsome devils, will you shut up?"

Alan blinked at Don. Don blinked back at him. Then they both pushed closer to the bed and saw Charlie staring at them groggily. Alan hadn't seen such a beautiful pair of brown eyes since the very first moment he'd met Margaret.

"Look who's joined the land of the living." He touched Charlie's hair, then cupped his cheek. "How're you doing, kiddo?"

"Confused," Charlie whispered, voice a mere fraction of what it should be. He squinted as if the dim light of the room was the sun at glaring down at noon. "And my head feels like it might have exploded. What happened?"

Alan reminded himself that the doctors had also told him slight memory loss was to be expected. He glanced over at Don. It would be some time before Charlie was really, truly Charlie, but knowing that it would happen sometime soon didn't really help with the now. Alan gave his son his best reassuring smile.

"That is a long story, and one we'll tell you later, okay?"

Charlie nodded at him, wincing. Despite the obvious discomfort, he turned his head slightly and looked at Don. He didn't say anything, just watched his sons stare at each other for several long moments.

"I think…I think I remember some things…a girl I should know but I don't think I do." Don clenched his jaw so tightly, Alan could see it from across the bed. "A dark room. A light room. Beige."

"Hey, what did Dad just say? Don't try to force things, just take it easy. We'll talk about that stuff later."

"I remember…" Charlie said, ignoring Don. "Knowing you'd find me. Where was I?"

Don's face crumpled just a tiny little bit, from guilt or embarrassment or something Alan would definitely follow up on later, but then that expression made way for a small smile. He doubted Don knew his tell was so obvious. He should let them have a moment, and take the time to go get the doctor. He retreated quietly, turning back to take in both of his sons. They looked comfortable with each other in their own way, prompted and accentuated by unusual circumstances. Things were going to be just fine. In fact, Alan predicted the drought of Don in his and Charlie's recent past was about to come to an end.

At last, something Alan could smile about.

"I just don't see why you're making me do this," Charlie whined.

"The same reason your mother and I made you eat your peas when you were little," Dad shot right back at him.

They had been informed by the doctors, and Don knew from previous experience, that anyone who'd suffered a moderate (it was at this point where he disagreed with the doctors' diagnosis – Don thought major, but then he was biased when it came to his family) head trauma was likely to live with side effects for days, and possibly even weeks after the incident. It wasn't a surprise to him when Charlie could offer no details of his abduction, for instance, his mind wiped clean pretty much back to getting his hair cut. Loss of memory, lingering and recurring headaches, irritability…those were all unpleasantly expected.

"Because it's good for you." Charlie snorted, and Dad chuffed out an unamused laugh in retort. "Keeps your brain nimble."

"Give me a couple of good old fashioned proofs to work on to keep my mind nimble, Father."

"Ah, but how would I know if you were really comprehending anything?" Dad tut-tutted a couple of times, Don suspected for effect. "This is better."

"Yeah, except I have never in my life comprehended these."

"Be quiet or give me a seven letter word for pain in the ass."

Don watch with part amusement, part sadness. Charlie was still pale, too thin, and seemed to think it was fashionable to go unshaven. He didn't have the heart to tell the guy that scruff didn't really disguise the grimaces of pain or the continuing gauntness of his cheeks. He had long suspected part of his exasperation in working so closely with Charlie was the ever-present awareness that he could, directly or indirectly, put his kid brother in the line of danger. It would haunt him for a while to know it didn't matter. Shit could happen to Charlie anywhere, anytime whether or not Don was involved. And it hurt him just the same, a fact that was kind of alarming.

"Seven letter word…what does it start with?" Charlie asked with all sincerity.

"I've got a C and an H at the beginning."

"Huh."

"Oh, and look at that. An A, R, L, I and an E at the end."

"Ha, ha."

It wasn't that Dad wanted to be mean, Don knew, but that Charlie responded better to the good-natured ribbing than he had the hovering. Dad had hovered. Larry had hovered. He admitted he might have hovered at first, too. It took them far too long to figure out Charlie's irritability increased exponentially based on how much worried attention they gave him. So, good-natured ribbing it was. Whatever worked, he thought, it was just damned good to have this back. He couldn't remember fully how he'd let himself get so out of shape that he avoided his family. He liked his independent life, but didn't think he was in a hurry to go back to it just yet.

"If you insist on making me exercise my brain in this manner, you should at least play fair," Charlie said.

"He has a point, Dad," Don said, finally entering the verbal fray. "He really does suck at crosswords. Maybe you should play Scrabble instead."

"Oh, that's next on the list," Dad said.

Charlie glared over at Don, which would never be as intimidating to him as Charlie evidently thought it was.

"I hate you."

Don smirked and went back to reading the Sunday paper, letting the sound of his dad and his pesky kid brother bicker fade into the background. He couldn't really concentrate on the words. He used the paper as a cover to watch the antics. It had surprised him a little that Charlie didn't want to know many of the details of his kidnapping, but it also kind of relieved him. What David and Megan had discovered, what they shared with him at any rate, wasn't the worst thing he had ever heard…but at the same time it was the worst thing he'd ever heard. Alisen Lancaster had turned out to be a wholly forgettable individual, undistinguished in her academic life and a veritable black hole when it came to a personal life.

He shook his head. It didn't matter, he told himself for the millionth time. Thinking about things like "Great Wall of Charlie," as David had called Alisen's shrine to his brother or the roofies that had indeed been in her possession, only made him upset. Which was why he was off the case, he reminded himself. He still couldn't believe it, but he'd even remained backseat with the DelMarco thing. He had been due time off, and suddenly work just didn't seem as important and all encompassing as it had a week ago.

"C'mon, Donnie, put down the paper and join us."

He looked up and saw Dad really had gone for the Scrabble board. Charlie looked downright miserable. Don supposed he could at least lend a little moral support to the kid. Plus, while he was no wordsmith, Scrabble was one of the few things he was better at than Charlie, brain trauma or no. He tossed the paper aside and sauntered over to the table. He noticed that a tiny bit of the shaved spot from the back of Charlie's head poked through the curls. He scratched it lightly with his fingertips as he passed by.

"Hey," Charlie said, ducking out of the way. As with any sudden movement lately, it produced a slight grimace.

"Sorry." Don winced sympathetically. He sat down and absently started fiddling with the tiles. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah." Looking up, Don saw Charlie grinning at him like a total goon. "Hands off the follicles."

Charlie reached around to the back of his head self-consciously. The doctors had been pretty good with the shaving, as if they had somehow known they were dealing with someone suffering from severe hair vanity. He would have been more amused with Charlie's preoccupation with the shaved spot on his skull if he didn't know that part of the shrine of pictures they'd found in the apartment included the hair clippings Alisen had snagged from Great Clips. One more thing Charlie didn't ever need to know about, or the poetry. He wondered if the girl had intended on sending even more of the love notes or if she'd been working on a friggin' anthology to dedicate to Charlie.

"You can hardly tell, Charlie," he said softly. "In a couple of weeks it'll be unnoticeable."

His brother flushed slightly, two bright spots high on his otherwise pale cheeks.

"All right, you two," Dad said with a slight cough. Don turned and shared a glance with him. His dad's eyes said 'let's not get too deep.' Deep only made things awkward, and Charlie was too unsteady for deep anyway. "Draw your tiles and prepare to be whupped."

"That sounds like a challenge to me. What do you think, Charlie, could today be your day to beat Dad at his own game?"

"Only if we don't count for accurate spelling," Charlie said miserably.

"Sounds like buddy-boy here is back to his charming old self, doesn't it?"

Don chuckled and picked his tiles. He drew a whole bunch of nothing. Just his luck. Charlie was up first. He plonked down the first, very impressive word – CAT. Don sat for a moment, looking at his tiles and then at the board. His offering wasn't much better. He added his HAS and M to the C. And then his phone started ringing. He rolled his eyes at the twin scowls he got from Dad and Charlie, and pulled the cell from his pocket anyway. Caller ID said it was David.

"I should take this. If my turn comes around again, skip me."

Don had told David not to bother him unless there was more news about Alisen Lancaster. Megan said it was unlikely that the girl would pose another threat, and even if she did they now knew of her existence and what she looked like, but it didn't matter. As long as she was out there somewhere, he'd always have that worry at the back of his mind. He gave Dad and Charlie an apologetic shrug and walked out of earshot.

"David," he said as an answer. "What have you got?"

"Nothing good, man, I'm sorry. I've never seen anyone disappear so completely and so quickly. It's hard to believe this girl is just a college student. She moves like a pro."

"What?" He did not like the tone in David's voice at all. "What are you talking about?"

"They're calling it, Don. The case is dead at this point as far as the Bureau's concerned. They don't want to spend the resources on something so small."

Don lost focus for a minute or two, seeing nothing but fuzz. So small. He glanced back into the den and saw Dad chuckling at the dismayed face Charlie was making. The hell his brother was so small. The higher-ups might have closed the door, but it was not over for him, not as long as Alisen Lancaster was still out there.