Chapter 14

Don retched again, coughing into the basin that his father was holding for him, and leaned back with a groan as the sutures pulled in his side. The throbbing in his head was matched by the intense aching in his leg, and he viewed the arrival of the nurse with relief. She had promised more pain medication; warning him that he couldn't have anything too strong with a concussion, but anything would help at this point, he thought. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust the position of the temporary bracing cast on his leg, and watched her, panting, as she added the medication to his IV. Feeling a cool cloth on his forehead, he looked up with gratitude at his father, his face lined with pain. The nurse turned, and whisked away the basin on her way out of the room.

Don had regained awareness slowly, and had spent most of his waking moments getting sick. He was still not quite with it, but his thoughts were gradually assuming some kind of order, and he glanced at the window, noticing for the first time it was dark outside. "What time is it?" he asked; his voice hoarse.

"Around midnight," answered Alan. His own face was tight with worry, but he relaxed a little as Don spoke the first coherent sentence that he had uttered all day. Charlie was still out, lying corpse-like in the other bed, oblivious to the noise they were making. Alan couldn't think of his younger son and what he had gone through without a stab of grief and pain, and he focused on Don, trying to stay calm, to be strong for his sons' sakes.

He watched as Don's eyes closed; his face and breathing relaxing as the medication took effect. The nurse swept back in, quickly and almost silently, and set down a clean emesis basin, and Alan nodded his thanks. He looked back at Don, to see his eyes open again, focused on his brother, worry growing on his face.

"Is he okay?" Memory was coming back to Don, and he felt a pang of fear as he remembered the attack. 'What happened after I passed out?' he wondered, panic rising.

"He's all right. He's sleeping," said Alan quietly. He glanced at his youngest son, feeling a pang of mingled worry and sadness as he looked at his pale face, the purple bruise on it echoing the dark smudges under his eyes. The doctor had decided against a transfusion, and Alan wondered if that had been the right decision; Charlie was so pale, so exhausted. Alan sighed tiredly, and thanked heaven for at least the fifth time for the small favor that his boys were together in the same room.

Questions were tumbling through Don's mind now, faster than he could get them out. "It was Mansour – did he hurt him? Did they get him?"

Alan tried to sort through the questions, guessing at who "him" referred to. "Apparently, this, this Mansour attacked you with a knife, and you went down; and somehow, you hit your head and broke your leg in the process. Megan told me that Charlie tackled him."

"Charlie tackled him?" Don repeated, incredulous.

"He looked -," Alan paused; he was having difficulty getting the words out. "It looked like Mansour was preparing to stab you again. Charlie was trying to stop him."

Don stared at Charlie, stunned, and after a moment Alan continued, his eyes following Don's and resting on his younger son. "Charlie was stabbed in the shoulder. This Mansour," Alan spoke the name like it was something distasteful, indignation and grief rising in his voice, "grabbed him and dragged him down the hill. They chased him, and he let go of Charlie, but he got away."

Don turned his head, wincing slightly at the movement, and stared at the ceiling, his mind reeling. 'This is a nightmare,' he thought, and he glanced over at Charlie with concern. His brother looked pale, almost fragile, and Don's gut clenched in pain and rage as he thought of what Charlie had been through.

Alan watched the emotions pass over Don's face and he spoke quietly. "It's okay, you're both safe. You should get some rest. It's over now." Don frowned but he closed his eyes, gradually relaxing as fatigue took him. Alan settled in his chair to watch and wait, his last statement already forgotten, without an inkling of how wrong he was.

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Charlie awoke to clatter, and he blinked and squinted at the light coming through the window. He shifted in his bed, wincing as the sutures pulled in his shoulder, and turned his head to see his father bending over his bedside. Alan was smiling at him, and his words were light, but his eyes were sad and concerned. "Charlie. Good morning. It's about time you woke up."

Charlie looked at him, but didn't respond, his gaze shifting to the room beyond. He realized with a start that his brother was awake, and was looking at him with an expression of relief. "Don." He heard the relief in his own voice, and found himself clutching his father's hand.

"Hey Chuck," said Don smiling. "It figures you'd sleep until breakfast." The smile and the words were cheerful but a bit forced, and concern was in his eyes.

Charlie tried to smile back, but only managed to close his mouth in a line, a weak attempt that looked more like an expression of pain. He looked at his father, still gripping his hand for reassurance, and then back at Don. "How is your head?"

Don glanced up as a short buxom nurse approached with a tray containing gelatin and ginger ale, and made a face. "It's been better. Actually, it's much better than last night. I was sicker than a dog. I can't believe I didn't wake you up." He looked over at Charlie, his expression softening. "How are you doing?"

Charlie glanced away, catching Alan's eyes on him as he looked toward the window. "Okay."

He could think straight again, at least, after the sleep. He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. He felt out of place, disoriented. Three weeks ago, he knew who he was. He was a successful professor of mathematics, a leader in his field, dazzling senators and business moguls at fund-raisers, consulting on matters of national security, with a promising future and what he thought was a blooming relationship with Amita. Now he was someone else he didn't recognize, beaten, unsure, frightened, his confidence shredded. He swallowed and turned, and Alan's heart sank at the sadness and fear in his eyes.

The nurse bustled back in with another tray. "You actually get real food for breakfast," she said cheerfully, and Charlie reluctantly relinquished his grip on his father's hand, as she situated the tray in front of him. 'Lucky me,' he thought, his stomach flipping as he looked at pile of congealed eggs. His father looked so concerned that he felt guilty, and he tried to muster a wan smile as he picked up his fork, catching Don's eyes on him as he did.

He tried hard to act normally, to hide his shaking hand as he lifted the utensil. He didn't want them to know how weak he was, how uncertain he was of himself. Don was always strong and confident, and his father was steady as a rock. He was still reeling with fear from what had happened, and it made him feel inadequate somehow, especially next to Don. He stole a glance at his brother, who was frowning. Charlie mistook it for disapproval, and berated himself. 'Suck it up,' he thought. 'Don't disappoint him.'

Don watched his brother picking blankly at his eggs; Charlie barely noticing as the nurse grabbed his left hand and removed his IV, and he exchanged a glance with his father. The nurse chirped at Charlie cheerfully. "You are getting out of here today. You do need to go home and catch up on your rest, but the doctor has cleared you for discharge."

She hustled over to Don. "If you keep that down, we'll get you something a little more substantial. You are scheduled for a consult with the orthopedic doctor. When you go down to meet with him, they'll put on your cast."

Don grimaced. Great, just what he needed.

The nurse exited the room, winking at Alan, who raised his eyebrows, watching her go. Don caught the look, and in spite of the pain and the worry over Charlie, he couldn't stop a smile. "I think she's hot for you, Dad."

Alan snorted, and grinned back wryly. "That one's just a little too chipper for me." His smile faded as he looked at Charlie, hunched over his tray, staring blankly at his toast. Don's eyes followed his father's, and quiet descended in the room.

Don's team showed up at 8:30, accompanied by Edgerton, meeting Alan in the hallway outside the room as he went to get coffee. They introduced Alan and Edgerton, and Alan clasped his hand. "I understand that I owe you some thanks for finding my son," he said quietly.

"No thanks necessary," replied Edgerton.

"Alan, I can stay for a while – why don't you take off and get some rest?" offered Megan.

Alan shook his head with a smile. "Thank you, but Charlie's getting discharged this morning," he told them. "I'll bring him home, and get some rest then. I can come back for Don when they release him."

Edgerton frowned. This case was not going well, and now he was losing his consultant. He felt a little twinge of desperation. "We could still use him on the case."

Alan looked at him, astonishment stealing any ability to reply. The other agents cast sideways glances at him laced with skepticism, and Edgerton spoke defensively. "Has anyone asked him whether he wants to go home? I understand he likes to finish what he starts."

Alan's eyes flashed with anger. "I can guarantee you he's going home, whether he wants to or not. He's done with this – this case." He spit the last word out in disgust.

Edgerton's face remained expressionless. "We'll need a statement from him before he leaves."

"Fine," snapped Alan. "Get it now, we're going soon." He turned on his heel, headed for the cafeteria.

The other agents glanced at each other; then looked at Edgerton. "Okay," said Ian, "you heard the man." He headed into the room, and they filed in behind him, exchanging greetings with Don and Charlie. There was an awkward pause, and Ian filled it. "Charlie, we need to get a statement from you."

Charlie glanced up, panic in his face, but he looked at his brother, and seemed to collect himself almost instantly. Don was about to protest, but much to his amazement, Charlie nodded. "Okay." He spoke uncertainly, but there was no denying the response.

Don frowned. "Charlie, are you sure? Maybe we can wait -,"

"We can't wait," Edgerton cut him off sharply. "We had another disappearance early this morning – one of Peters' men. There was a group of them on the trail, looking for the missing hiker. They weren't entirely sure how it happened; it sounded like they got a little too spread out, but regardless of that, they were trained and alert, and he got to him anyway. Hell, he got to us. Mansour is not going to stop on his own. We need to stop him." His eyes were snapping with repressed anger when he finished, and Don looked at him, nonplussed. He had never seen Ian like this.

Charlie took a deep breath. He was anything but sure about this, but he felt an unexplained need to prove himself. "Yes. I'm sure."

They decided that they would limit the group to Don, Edgerton and Megan, to try to make it a little easier on Charlie. They sat in the room, Edgerton taking notes. Charlie spoke quietly, steadily, but Don could see the effort underlying the words; what it was costing him to keep control as he revisited the horror that he had gone through.

Don could scarcely contain his own emotions as he listened to Charlie's account of seeing the hiker's body, of the marking, of the tying off of his feet and his legs, of his desperate attempts to free himself, cutting his own flesh with the knife and the wire cutters. A few times, Charlie paused, clearly overcome, and Don almost stopped the interview, but each time his brother gathered himself together and continued.

Charlie ended with the explanation of his flight through the forest, including his dousing in the stream. Edgerton was particularly interested in that portion, trying to get a grip on where in the park Mansour was taking his victims, and he questioned Charlie closely. By the time he was finished, an hour later, Charlie looked exhausted, and Don was feeling queasy again.

They were interrupted by the arrival of an intern, who had come for a final checkup and to give discharge instructions to Charlie. Alan followed him in, glancing sourly at Edgerton as Ian and Megan left the room.

Edgerton paused in the hallway, looking over the notes he had taken. He glanced through the doorway at Charlie. He was certain if he could get him alone, away from his father and his brother, he could talk him into staying. An orderly stepped up next to him, manipulating a wheel chair, and peered through the doorway. He turned to Edgerton.

"Do you know what they're doing in there? I'm supposed to take -," he looked down at his chart, "Don Eppes down to the cast room."

Edgerton eyed him speculatively. This might be his opportunity. "Don is the one in bed closer to us," he told the orderly. "The doctor is releasing his brother. I'm sure they'll be done in a minute."

The intern, finished with the instructions, had Charlie sign paperwork, and left the room, the orderly squeezing into the doorway after him. He situated the wheel chair next to Don's bed, as Alan spoke to Charlie. Ian edged closer to the door, listening.

Alan placed a small duffel bag on Charlie's bed; then turned to help the orderly get Don into the chair. "Why don't you get dressed," Alan said to Charlie, "while I go downstairs with Don. We'll take off when he's done."

Ian saw Charlie nod, and he stepped back from the door, glancing down the hallway. He could see a waiting area from where he stood; none of the other agents were there; or anywhere in sight. They had probably gone to get coffee, he thought. So much the better.

The orderly wheeled Don out, and Ian stepped up to speak to him, making sure he was in clear view of Charlie, who was watching them through the doorway. Charlie was listening absently to his father, who had unzipped the duffel and was rummaging through it. Ian looked at Don. "I have your backpacks in my truck. I'll bring Charlie's up. Do you want me to hang on to yours for now?"

Don nodded. "That's fine." He glanced at Charlie. "I'm not sure if I'll stay up here or not, but I'll stay on the case. If I go back to the office, they'll stick me on light duty anyway. I might as well work on this. You tell me what you need."

Ian nodded. "I'd appreciate the help." He looked at Charlie as he spoke, catching his eye.

"I'm not sure when they'll release me," said Don. "Keep me posted, okay?"

"Sure," said Ian easily. Alan stepped up behind the orderly, ignoring Edgerton, as they moved off down the hall. Ian waited until they rounded the corner, and stepped into the room.

--------------------------End Chapter 14---------------------------------------------------