The first part of this chapter I had originally written as all one big scene with the end of the last chapter, but the other day when I posted Chapter 11 I felt like being a big jerk and making that one last dramatic cliffhanger. So now, this chapter is nice and long because it has part of the previous chapter in it. :) Hope you all enjoy, and as always, please read and review!

Chapter 12

11:06 a.m.

David watched as Colby fell to the ground next to Don, immediately checking for a pulse. Colby quickly looked up and nodded at David. David let out a deep breath.

Miracle of all miracles—somehow, Don is still alive. It certainly wasn't obvious before, the way Don was laying with his face stuffed to the ground.

He sat down at Don's other side and he and Colby gingerly rolled their former boss onto his back. David shook his head as he noticed the wound on Don's right shoulder, as well as the way his arm had swelled to the size of a small grapefruit. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but still.

"Don," he heard himself call as he lightly slapped Don's cheek. "Come on man, wake up."

Don's eyes opened fairly quickly, much to David's relief. The older man looked confused for a moment, but recognition eventually set in.

"David," Don rasped. "Colby. God. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

David rubbed Don's uninjured arm. "Hey, man. We're pretty glad to see you, too."

Don simply lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. "Hey," he finally said. "Where's . . . uh . . . where's Shore? Did you get him?"

David exchanged glances with Colby. There was really no use being anything other than honest here in this situation.

"We haven't found him yet, Don," David explained. "But don't worry about that, okay? We got Liz and Nikki and a few other agents out here looking. We're just want to get you out of here, all right?"

They had to slow down that bleeding from Don's shoulder. David pulled at the Velcro on his Kevlar vest. "Let's tie my jacket around his shoulder," he suggested to Colby. "I'd say we should use yours, but it's so dirty I'd be afraid it would give him some kind of infection or something."

Colby gave an amused half-smile, and David felt his spirits really lift as even Don cracked a smile.

"Yeah, Colby," Don breathed. "What, did making that mud-pie really take priority over trying to find me?"

Colby laughed. "Yeah, well, I just couldn't resist, you know?"

David grinned. Maybe Don wasn't so bad off if he was cracking jokes with them. One just wouldn't know it just by looking at his pale face and the blood coating his right side. He looked half-dead. If David had to guess, though, he'd say Don was mostly suffering indescribable pain with some blood loss, and that if they could get him help soon, he'd be okay.

"Colby, you should radio the others," David ordered. "I'll take care of him. And probably see if you can get a chopper in here somewhere. We're going to want to get him out of here as fast as we can."

Colby nodded, standing up. David, meanwhile, focused all of his attention onto Don.

"Hey, Don," David spoke softly. "You think you can sit up?"

Don nodded, and reached his left hand out. David grasped it and gently pulled upwards. Once upright, Don looked as if he were about to pitch right backwards, so David reached out a steadying hand to his back.

"All right?" he asked. He waited for Don's nod, and when he got it, he continued. "Okay. I'm sorry, man; this is really going to hurt."

"'S okay," Don ground out through gritted teeth. "Just do it."

As carefully as he could, David looped the arms of his jacket around Don's injured shoulder. He tied the knot loosely before pulling it as tight as possible. He closed his eyes at Don's painful groan. As fast as he could, David tied a double knot into the jacket. That should do it. Don groaned again as the makeshift bandage was tightened.

"All right, we're done," David announced as soothingly as he could. "Let's get you out of here. Get you back to your family. You got a wedding to reschedule."

"How the hell did you guys find me?" Don asked softly.

David chuckled. "Charlie's math. How else?"

Don smiled.

Now, David was excited. Unlike before when he so dreaded calling Don's family—because he was sure it would be with bad news—now he was excited. He was so very excited to call them and tell them that Don had been found and that he most likely would be okay.

11:11 a.m.

Who made up the whole "make a wish at 11:11" rule? Robin didn't usually put any stock in superstitions like that, but right now, she'd do whatever she could if it meant Don could come safely back to her. She made her wish, and made it fervently.

I wish David would call within the next five minutes, with good news.

And just for good measure, she made the wish eleven times. Couldn't hurt.

Seriously, what could be taking them so long? Even if the roads weren't great—which given the storm, they probably weren't—the FBI team should have made it up there a long time ago. Surely they knew something?

It was possible that there was no cell service where they were. But still. Surely there was some way they could get word down here.

Charlie had literally been pacing around the house for over an hour now. It kind of drove Robin nuts, but at the same time, watching him go back and forth, back and forth, gave her something to do. She was basically pacing with her eyes.

Her family had gone back to their hotel that morning when Charlie and Amita had returned. They'd tried to take her with them, but there was no way in hell she was leaving here until they'd found him. Thankfully they hadn't pushed the issue; they'd respected her wishes and left her. Secretly, she was glad they were gone. They'd spent the whole night offering her empty reassurances, but really, they didn't understand at all. They didn't understand the intensity of her worry and how it felt like all of her insides were spinning through a washing machine.

They didn't understand how she felt about Don. Hell, they hadn't even met Don yet. She felt much more comfortable being here with just Don's family—people who understood how deeply her fear ran, because theirs ran just as deep.

"Anybody hungry?" Alan suddenly blurted out. "I could make us some sandwiches. It's basically lunch time. Let me make some sandwiches."

No one answered him. No one was hungry. But preparing food was something that kept Alan distracted, so no one had the heart to stop him.

Robin watched him stand up quickly and practically fly into the kitchen. She wasn't quite sure what had prompted his sudden spring into action, but she had a feeling. She herself was getting slightly beyond fidgety.

"Is turkey okay for everyone?" Alan's voice called from the kitchen. "That's the only lunch meat we've got."

Robin wasn't sure her voice worked, so she didn't answer. Thankfully, Amita took up that slack for everyone.

"Yeah, Alan, turkey is fine."

Robin nearly jumped out of her skin as Charlie's phone started ringing. Her heart leapt to her throat. Charlie, meanwhile, had been in the living room but pretty much literally sprang into the dining room. He knocked over one of the chairs in his haste. He snatched his phone up as the chair landed loudly on the ground.

"David," Charlie said quickly. He'd answered without even checking to see who was calling.

Alan appeared in the doorway, and the three of them watched Charlie, never blinking.

The caller did all the talking; Charlie remained wide-eyed and silent. His face didn't give much away as he listened. Robin silently willed him to make some expression—to give them some sign as to what he was hearing.

"Thanks, David," Charlie eventually whispered, and hung up.

He slowly set the phone down on the table, his eyes still widened in shock. Robin drew her legs up onto the chair, hugging her knees. Don's dead. Charlie'd been rendered speechless, and he didn't look so good. That had to mean bad news.

"He's . . . uh, well . . . th-they found him. He's alive." Charlie was breathing easier now. "Don's alive." His face broke out into a shocked smile before Robin could even comprehend his words.

But once she did, she leapt to her feet.

"Well, where is he?" she asked urgently. "Let's go to him!"

Well, what do you know? Maybe there was something to that 11:11-wish rule after all. Don was alive!

3:20 p.m.

For all the rushing around they had done after David's phone call, Alan had to admit—he was a little dismayed how pointless it had been. They'd fallen into the old hurry up and wait trap. He, Robin, Charlie, and Amita—none of them had even really thought. They'd flown about the house and were on the road within two minutes of Charlie hanging up.

And they'd now been at the hospital his son had been brought to for nearly three hours and they still hadn't seen him yet. Alan had found he was only slightly less tense than he had been when they were sitting in the house with no information. He kept telling himself to calm down, Don would be just fine.

His son had suffered a broken wrist, which they were setting and repairing in surgery. Don had also sustained a gunshot wound to his shoulder. The bullet had lodged itself somewhere inside, and the surgeon was currently also tasked with removing it. So far, Don had been in surgery since right around the time they'd arrived—so about three hours. He'd be done soon, in theory, and then he'd be moved to recovery and then finally after that—finally—Alan would get to see his son.

"You guys really should eat," David said, entering the waiting room. Colby was behind them, and the two of them were carrying some saran-wrapped sandwiches. "You might not be hungry, but it wouldn't be all that great if you all passed out from being under-nourished before Don gets out of surgery."

"Wait, we ate recently, didn't we?" Charlie's features twisted a little as he thought. He looked to Alan for help.

Alan couldn't help but laugh a little. It ended up being more of a release of internal tension than anything else. "No, Charlie. I don't believe we have eaten lately. I know I haven't eaten since you were still at the FBI, so I couldn't even tell you when the last time you ate was."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "No, wait. You made sandwiches, didn't y—oh. Wait. That's right. You were going to make sandwiches but then David called."

"Yes, that's what happened." Alan laughed a little harder at his son. Oh, his younger son certainly epitomized the stereotypical absent-minded professor sometimes.

"Well, here," David said. He and Colby distributed four sandwiches to Alan, Charlie, Robin, and Amita and then kept one each for themselves.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Alan hadn't realized he was hungry, but just eating a small amount made him feel stronger and more alert.

"So what happens now?" Robin asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "I mean, how are you going to catch the guy who did this?"

Thank you, Robin. That was a question Alan really wanted to know the answer to.

David cleared his throat before answering. "Uh, well, you know, once we found Don, we stopped actively searching the area. Nikki and Liz and two of the other agents that were with us are still up there, though, staking out the cabin. We never saw any sign of Shore, so chances are he was just searching around the woods like we were. And he might not even know we were there."

"And you figure he'll probably show up at the cabin again," Charlie deduced.

David nodded his affirmative. "Guy's got experience being in the wilderness, so he probably is too smart to have gotten lost out there. He's not going to search the woods forever. And once he's done he's not just going to leave. He's going to want to go back to the cabin and clean it down. And that's where his car is. He's going to have to go back there."

And what if he doesn't? Alan was afraid to even ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen. What if they never found this man? What if he tries to come after Donnie again?

David was still speaking. "And until then, just as a precaution, we'll have someone here all the time."

Well, that was better than nothing. But what if they just simply never found this monster? Alan knew he wouldn't be able to stop worrying until this asshole who'd tried to kill his son was locked up away deep in a jail cell. The knots in his stomach would remain in place until this man was apprehended.

"Are there people here for Don Eppes?" a voice called. Alan was on his feet before he could even think.

"Yes, that's us." The words fell from Alan's mouth in a rush as he quickly approached the doctor. "Please. How's he doing?"

The doctor smiled. "He's doing just fine. We ended up setting his wrist without surgery, and it's in a temporary splint now until the swelling goes down. A few days from now, we'll put it in a cast, which he'll have for about five or six weeks. We also removed the bullet from his shoulder. There was a little bit of damage to some of the muscle tissue, but it should heal up without a problem. He's in recovery right now, and once we have him in a room you'll be able to visit with him."

"Oh, thank God," Alan breathed. He heard other sighs of relief behind him.

"He's pretty lucky," the doctor concurred. "The bullet easily could have gone straight through, but since it ended up lodged inside, it actually helped to slow down the bleeding. He is, obviously, still suffering from some blood loss, but this really could have been a whole lot worse. And it's a good thing he was found when he was, because the bleeding was slowly starting to become heavier. He probably couldn't have lasted too much longer out there untreated."

Alan turned around, unable to listen any longer. He didn't need to be reminded yet again by this doctor just how close he'd come to losing his son. He already knew that for himself.

Amita was pulling him back down to a chair, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Meanwhile, the doctor kept talking.

"But Don will be just fine. He's going to need a lot of rest, but I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be able to go home by Tuesday morning."

Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, and Alan would finally take his son home. Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.

For now, though he'd settle just for seeing Don.

"Well, see?" Charlie said from across the aisle from Alan. "He's fine. He's going to be okay." His face, Alan noted, was adorned with a nervous smile, as if Charlie didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"Yes, he is, Charlie," Alan assured him. "He is."

Charlie looked for all the world like he couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. Alan sort of understood; they'd spent so long not knowing that it was difficult to accept that now they did know. Even though it was good news, it was still a little hard to wrap his mind around it.

Alan regarded his youngest carefully for a moment. Charlie had sure grown up in recent years. Eight years ago, the boys' mother had been dying with cancer, and Charlie had shut out reality completely. Alan had let it go, because he'd been too distraught with his own grief to even bring himself to really care that much. That had all been left to Don.

Two years ago, when Don had been stabbed and Amita had been kidnapped shortly after, it had been a different story. Charlie had stayed mostly in touch with reality.

And he had here, too. Alan swelled with pride. Charlie had really come into his own the last few years—ever since he'd started working with Don at the FBI almost—whoa, was it really seven? Seven years ago. The time had really flown by.

Seven years had brought all these people into his life. And Alan was grateful for all of them. Even just in the context of today. He was grateful beyond words for David and Colby because they'd found his son, alone and bleeding in the woods, and had gotten him to safety. He was grateful for Amita, for sticking with Charlie and helping him figure out where Don was. And he was grateful for Robin, who'd been the one to finally win Don's heart and had shown him that he could make a relationship work after all.

But boy, Alan was especially proud of Charlie today. Being the biased father that he was, Alan couldn't help but give Charlie most of the credit for finding Don. Charlie's math had kept Don alive today. And now, Alan had his two sons, safe and sound.

Well, almost.

He sat back in his chair, waiting for the moment when he'd be told to go see Don, and then he really would have both of his sons, safe and sound.

TBC

Well, we're on the wind down now, but stay with me - there are still a few more chapters to go!