Hmm. I've noticed the responses to this story have slowly gotten less and less over the last few chapters, especially this last chapter. Where have all my readers gone? Did I lose you? Please come back!

Well, here we are at the final chapter. I loved loved loved writing this story, so I wouldn't be surprised to see another long-ish one out of me sometime in the future. This one pretty much came out of thin air, so who knows what I might come up with next. It's certainly been fun! I actually thought about writing more to this, but then when I was writing the last scene it just felt like an ending to me, so I stopped writing . . . although it actually saddened me quite a lot to see this story go.

Anywho, thanks to all who have stuck with me! And I really hope maybe some of you crawl out of the woodwork and let me know what you think about this chapter or the story in general, because hearing my readers' thoughts is seriously my biggest motivation to write more. So . . . the more feedback I get, the more I will feel like writing later. Thanks everyone!

Chapter 10 (Don)

Mixed feelings. Don realized that's what he had about . . . well, just about everything. Of course, he had mixed feelings about the big stuff. Like becoming a father, possibly any day now. Or about what to do next with his life. Or the suddenly shifting dynamics in his relationship with his younger brother. Don hadn't exactly meant to or planned on giving Charlie such an open glimpse into his personal feelings, but it had seemed like the only thing to do at the time—although a little while later, he'd started feeling a little embarrassed about it. It was ironic, too, because embarrassed was exactly what he'd told Charlie not to feel.

And today, Don had mixed feelings for the little things too. It was par for the course, he realized. He just couldn't seem to get a good handle on how he felt about anything—at all. Which is why he was half-excited but half-dreaded the idea of having a big dinner at Charlie's house with everyone there, including his old team. It would be like old times, which would hopefully give them all a sense of normalcy they hadn't felt in months. But at the same time, Don realized he hadn't been in a large group of people for a really long time. He only hoped he had the energy to stay alert and engaged all evening.

Now he stood—sort of, leaning on a pair of crutches—in his and Robin's small kitchen, quietly and perhaps a little clumsily preparing a couple of sandwiches. She was taking a nap in their bedroom at the moment. Don felt a small pang of guilt. She'd been working so hard lately, keeping up with the house and making sure everything was ready for the baby. On top of that, Robin was still wrapping up her last couple of cases before she went on maternity leave. She'd been doing so much, and Don hadn't been able to help her hardly at all. The least he could do was make her a sandwich for lunch.

Damn. He'd run in to a bit of a challenge, Don realized as he slapped the top slice of bread onto the second sandwich. How would he go about delivering the sandwich to his wife? He was only fairly mobile at best with the use of crutches—which used up both of his hands. He couldn't exactly carry a plate with two sandwiches on it all the way to the bedroom. Damn. It was often the stupid little moments like this that made Don really miss his leg and long for it to be there. A sense of hopelessness washed over him as he once again realized his leg was gone forever—he'd be dealing with that forever.

Well, the only thing he could think of to do was to wake Robin up and bring her out here. He wasn't in love with the idea; he wished he could just bring her lunch in bed. A now-familiar wave of frustration welled up inside him. Don could add carrying sandwiches to his ever-growing list of simple tasks he was currently unable to do.

Well, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Don shook his head, staring glumly down at the sandwiches that seemed to be mocking him by sitting stationary on the kitchen counter. He turned his back on them and began making his way towards the bedroom. Thank goodness their house was only one story.

He sat down gently on the side of the bed, shifting so he was half-facing Robin. Don smiled a little at the sight of her, sleeping peacefully. He spent a couple seconds watching her sleep. She was so beautiful, he thought. She looked about as pregnant as one could possibly look, he supposed, but it didn't matter. She was beautiful, and she'd been amazingly supportive of him these days. He couldn't help but feel he didn't quite deserve her. She'd been taking care of him, offering him reassurances when needed, standing strong and silent by his side when needed. Anger bubbled up inside of him. She'd been so incredible, giving him exactly what he needed exactly when he needed it, and he couldn't even do something as simple as bringing her a stupid sandwich.

Let it go, Don, he told himself. Of course, he knew he was still recovering, and hadn't learned to use a prosthetic leg yet, so of course daily tasks would still be challenging. He knew it would take time, but that didn't make him feel much better.

He sighed, and reached out to touch Robin's shoulder. He rubbed it gently until she looked at him, a smile in her eyes.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he answered. "Sorry to wake you. But I made lunch, if you want some. If not, you can go back to sleep." Maybe he should have just let her sleep.

She sat up as quickly as her pregnant belly would allow. "You made me lunch? That's so sweet of you. What'd you make?"

"Don't get too excited," Don chuckled a little. "My cooking skills are basic at best, remember? I just made us a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. I wanted to bring them in here, so we could eat them in bed, but then I realized my hands were full and I didn't have a way to transport them. So they're still sitting on the kitchen counter."

Robin laughed. "That's okay. I can go get them. I'll bring them back here so we can still eat them in bed."

Don grimaced a little. "Sorry."

She was back in front of him in a flash. "Don, it's okay. I know you want to do more, but I've told you a million times, you just do what you can and don't worry about the rest."

Don sighed. "Is it too much to ask to be able to bring my pregnant wife food in bed?"

Robin looked at him, it was clear she ached for him. "Don, you've already done 99 percent of the work, and I appreciate it so much." She sighed sadly. "Don, you've just started coming back from something pretty serious. You're not Superman; surely you don't expect to just suddenly bounce back, do you?"

"No, I don't," Don admitted. "But that doesn't mean it's not still really frustrating sometimes."

She nodded, her eyes shut. "Yeah, I guess not. I'll just go get those sandwiches then."

Her hand was gone from his shoulder. He sat, staring at the doorway for the thirty seconds it took her to return with the plate of sandwiches.

After Robin sat, she immediately picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "This isn't really about the sandwiches, is it?" she asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

Don thought for a moment, and realized she was right. He wasn't really all that upset about the sandwiches.

"No, it's not," he said softly. "But it's not about anything new. It's still just the same old issues it has been."

He felt Robin watching him thoughtfully as she continued eating. Don's sandwich lay untouched on the plate.

"I'm so sorry Don." Her words were laced with sorrow. "I just wish I knew how to help you through this. I wish I was wise enough to know what to say. Or better yet, I wish I could . . . I don't know, sew your leg back on for you so that you wouldn't have to deal with this."

Don couldn't help but smile a little. "No. Really, you've done so much for me already. More than I could have ever asked. I just wish I could repay you, even just a little bit."

"Are you kidding me?" Robin grinned at him. He noticed her sandwich was gone already. "I'm a lucky woman. My man just made me a sandwich. And it was delicious. You know, it's the little things like you making me a sandwich when I'm too tired and . . . well, pregnant to do so myself that can really brighten my day."

"Well, that's good, because you've been taking care of me so much lately," Don pointed out. "You deserve to be taken care of a little yourself. I mean, you've been doing a lot these days. I just want you to know how much I really appreciate it. I love you, you know."

"I know." She reached over to cup his cheek with her hand. "I love you too. That's why I can take care of you all the time. And, Don, I know you. I know you're scared about being a father right now, but I am so sure that it'll be fine. I know I won't end up having to do everything with the baby. Like I said before, it's the little things that help. There's no reason why you can't plant yourself in that chair out there in the living room with the baby and feed him, burp him, and then rock him to sleep. Actually I can picture the two of you snuggled up, taking naps together out there. You don't even have to move to do those things, right? You'll do what you can."

"Well, yeah, I'm a little nervous about that," Don admitted quietly. "But I'm back to being pretty excited, too. I need something else besides this to focus on." He gestured to the remaining piece of his leg. "A baby should be perfect for that."

"Ha!" Robin laughed. "Oh, yeah. A baby will be the best distraction you can get."

Don grinned. "Hey, I noticed you said 'him' before. You think the baby's going to be a boy now, huh?"

"Shut up." She hit him in the face with a pillow. "I told you I'd probably change my mind, didn't I?"

Since he was unable to easily maneuver upstairs, the newly renovated garage his father had been living in seemed the only private solace in the old Craftsman that Don could find. He sat in his father's old easy lounge chair, not moving and not really looking at anything.

The house was full of everyone he cared about: his family; Nikki, Colby, Liz, and Larry. When he and Robin arrived, they'd all been full of jokes and laughter; they carried on as usual. His former team had told him some funny stories from the office, Charlie and Larry had been discussing who-knows-what, and his father was cheerfully busy in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. They had all acted like nothing was different at all, which was what Don had thought he'd wanted.

He appreciated their efforts to pretend everything was normal, he really did, but at the same time he found himself a little overwhelmed. He'd needed a few moments alone, so when the conversations had all been directed away from him, he'd quietly sneaked off before anyone noticed. He just needed to collect himself, and then he'd be fine.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Hey Don, you out here?" It sounded suspiciously like Charlie's voice.

Great. They'd noticed he was gone and had come looking for him. Time to suck it up and go back in and be social and happy.

"Yeah, Chuck, I'm in here," he called back.

"Hey," Charlie said, entering the room and crossing to sit down on the small loveseat across from Don. "We saw you leave awhile ago, and we thought maybe you just needed some time alone, but I mean now food's almost ready, so I thought I'd come find you."

Don stared. He thought he'd managed to slink off unnoticed.

Charlie picked up on his disbelief. "Well, no offense Don, but you're not exactly sneaky with those things." He gestured to the crutches that were leaning against Don's chair. "Not to mention, you've been out here now for about forty-five minutes."

What? No, it couldn't possibly have been that long. Don checked his watch, dismayed to find that Charlie was right.

"Sorry, buddy," he said, grabbing his crutches. "Let's go back inside now."

Before he could attempt to pull himself up, Charlie stopped him. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he assured his brother. "I'm fine. It's like you said, I just needed a little time alone. It's fine, really."

He tried again to hoist himself up, but stopped himself upon seeing the hurt look on Charlie's face. He leaned back, staring back at his brother.

"You know, Don," Charlie began. "I thought you were okay talking to me about this. I was really happy, because I know you've never really been all that forthcoming with me about certain things. Until the other day in the car, anyway. So what was that about?"

Don sighed. "Charlie, it's just not that easy, okay? Sometimes I feel like I've talked about things so much, I don't even know what to say about it anymore. And we all know I've never been the best at this."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, got that right. I'm sorry, though, man. You should just talk to me when you want to."

Don couldn't help but smile. The way Charlie had said that was so awkward, so Charlie. "Thanks, buddy. But hey, you want to know something?"

Charlie had stood up, but stopped, looking down at Don expectantly.

"Most of the time, it's easier to talk to you about this than anyone else," Don admitted. "Probably because you were there with me in that accident. I mean, you don't understand any of this about my leg any better than anyone else, but you've got your own issues with things. So like, when I talk to Robin, it's just her making me feel better all the time. But with you, you've got problems of your own, so it's like we're just helping each other. I don't know; it makes me feel less screwed up."

Charlie laughed, but he was beaming. "Well, I'm glad I could help by being just as messed up as you."

Don grinned. "So how've you been, anyway? Still having nightmares?"

Some of the light left Charlie's eyes as he exhaled heavily. "Every night. But they are starting to get a little less . . . well, vivid."

Don nodded slowly. "Well, that's a start."

"How about you?" Charlie reciprocated. "You making any progress towards normal?"

Don scoffed lightly. "Ha. Normal. Well . . . in rehab yesterday I almost sort of walked on a training prosthetic using the parallel bars. Almost. And I think my biggest accomplishment today was . . . well, I managed to maneuver myself around the kitchen enough to make Robin a sandwich."

"Well, that's a start," Charlie parroted Don's earlier words. "You can almost walk with a lot of help, and you can make sandwiches. I guess that's more than you could do two weeks ago, right?"

Don furrowed his brow in an expression of sort-of mock amusement. "Yeah, I guess." He laughed quietly.

"Man, we're kind of pathetic," Charlie pointed out. "I can't sleep through the night and you can barely make a sandwich."

Don laughed harder, but quickly grew serious again. "Yeah, well, obviously this is a slow process. I don't know about you, but sometimes I don't even feel like me anymore."

"I know what you mean," Charlie agreed. "I feel like we were just so blindsided by this that even now, almost two months later, I haven't even figured out how I'm supposed to feel about it."

"Tell me about it," Don said. "I haven't had much to do other than try to figure that out, but I haven't come up with the answer yet. I mean, it's scary. And since I've been home from the hospital, I haven't been able to do much so I've been feeling kind of useless. I feel like Robin has to do everything, and it's not fair to her. But I don't know what I'd do without her. But on the other hand, I can't tell you how much I hate being so dependent on her for every little thing."

Charlie smiled sadly. "I don't know what you're worried about. You seem like Don Eppes to me. I could have guessed all that. You've never been good at letting people take care of you, but now you don't really have a choice. But yeah, I'm conflicted a lot too. I know in my head that what happened to you isn't my fault. But no matter how much I tell myself that, I can't stop feeling a small amount of guilt. I don't know if it will ever completely go away. And I might even still just be a little bit in shock that this actually happened. It scares me a little bit."

Don nodded thoughtfully. It scared him, too, that something this big could happen and catch them all so completely off guard and change their lives so drastically.

"Me too," he whispered. He glanced up, sharing a meaningful look with his younger brother. Charlie's eyes were sad, but hopeful, Don noticed. The younger man's knowing look sent Don a clear message—that he hoped Don would trust him enough to be able to talk to him any time.

Don sent Charlie a reassuring smile. "Well, we should probably go back inside the house before Dad sends out a search party."

"Yeah," Charlie smiled back. "We're probably in trouble."

Don laughed. "So, you want to be a good brother and help me up from this chair?"

Charlie's gaze took on a mischievous glint. "I don't know, it might be faster for me to just rush back right now. Then I wouldn't get in trouble with Dad."

"Oh, and leave me stuck here?" Don joked. "Some brother you are!"

"Well, okay, but only because I want to keep the peace and just have a nice dinner." Charlie reached out his hand, and Don grabbed it. He relished in the solid connection as Charlie held onto him, pulling upwards. Once Don was situated on his crutches, the two started out towards the house. Before they went inside though, Don stopped suddenly. He needed to say one last thing.

"Hey, Charlie," he said, and Charlie looked at him expectantly. "Thanks, buddy. I'm not sure what I'd do here without you. And I don't know if I ever officially thanked you for saving my life after the accident, so now I am. Thank you, Charlie." He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Charlie looked back at him, clearly touched and overcome with emotion. He smiled sheepishly before responding. "I'm not sure how I'd be doing without you either. Thanks."

Don pulled his hand off Charlie's shoulder and put it back on the crutch handle. "Well, let's get some dinner, shall we? If we don't get in there Colby's probably going to eat both our shares."

"I don't know," Charlie said as he pulled the door open. "I'm more worried about your pregnant wife. She eats a lot these days. She might beat Colby to it."

Don laughed a loud, heartfelt laugh like he hadn't in weeks as they emerged from the kitchen. Everyone was seated at the table, already eating. Don noted amusedly that there was still plenty of food left for him and Charlie. Some things never changed; it looked like their father had cooked more than enough food.

As the two brothers sat down, their father looked up and smiled at them. Don returned the smile. He knew that deep down, his dad was likely bursting at the seams with pride. His two sons were on really good terms . . . something that hadn't seemed so likely to ever happen for most of the time that Don had been in the hospital. He could only imagine how relieved his father was.

Don and Charlie wordlessly took their seats and began dishing food onto their plates. Don paused, reaching over to throw his arm over Robin's shoulders briefly. She looked up at him and smiled. Silently, he assured her that everything would eventually be all right. She took his hand, and rubbed a reassurance back to him. Don smiled and returned to his dinner.

The group of them laughed and joked all through dinner, and Don had to admit, it was really nice to spend the evening doing something normal as a big dinner with family and friends. As they sat there, it became easier to forget that anything had happened, and Don felt his spirits lift higher than they'd been in a long time.

He still had a long way to go, and he knew Charlie did too. Occasionally, they'd swap knowing glances across the table. Don realized how much better it made him feel to know that he and Charlie were going through this together; he was indescribably grateful not to be alone through this. Charlie and he each had their own separate, completely different issues to work through, but Don was relieved to realize they could help. He'd been worried, but now he knew that he could trust Charlie to handle it. They could lean on each other.

Lots of things were changing. Life had certainly been taking them all for a ride lately, but Don knew one thing. Of all the things that were changing as a result of the car accident, one was a good change. His relationship with Charlie was shifting, but for the better. They were developing a support system for each other.

Don smiled as he looked around the table at his family and friends. Yeah, he and Charlie were far from being fine, but he was beginning to feel more confident that they would be—because he had Charlie to help him. Don knew he mostly couldn't take care of himself yet, but it was okay. However, he could take care of Charlie, because Charlie would also be there to take care of him. His smile widened into a grin.

FIN.

That's all, folks! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for coming along for the ride! I hope you all will miss this story as much as I will. Once again (last time I will say this here) please review, I would love to hear your thoughts!