Title: The Fury of the Wind

Author: Windimere Wellen

Part: 8 of ?

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs and I'm not making any money off of this!

Author's Note: Wow, you have all been so wonderful with reviews, so thank you again! This was a hard chapter for me to write, but I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you again!

Lady Winter

The last time Charlie had been on the inside of an ambulance was when he'd been four. His mother had taken him and Don to a wildlife reserve. It was something that was more their father's style, but their mother was always insisting they should be well rounded, yet another reason that she practically begged Don to continue playing the piano.

The wildlife reserve had been rather exciting for both boys, and away from the house, the pressure that Charlie had sensed, even as a four year old, seemed to recede a little. That was, until Don had mentioned that there were turtle shells on a display table in the visitor's center that kids were allowed to touch. He was already three or four steps ahead of Charlie, and for some reason Charlie had to be the first one to reach the turtle shells, so he'd torn past Don, tripped over his own feet, and went head first into the table and split part of his head open.

He'd had to go to the hospital, via ambulance, and once there he'd needed seven stitches, behind his right ear, a scar that was now covered by his curly dark hair. Though they never talked about it, Charlie knew part of Don had never forgiven him for that day – after all, they'd never touched the turtle shells, Don had to sit by himself in the hospital waiting room for several hours, their day with their mother had been ruined, and their mother had once again turned all her attention to Charlie.

Now Charlie was in an ambulance again, and it was a fear in the back of his mind that Don would never forgive him for this. Don, who had been bleeding and not breathing the last time Charlie had seen him, might never even have the chance to forgive him.

"Oh God," Charlie said, his voice full of anguish even in his own ears.

"Are you in pain?" the EMT sitting facing him asked, obviously mistaking his statement for physical pain. She had been checking his blood pressure.

"No, no…" Charlie said, shaking his head. In fact, Charlie was in physical pain, but he simply didn't realize it. His pain was fully emotional at the moment. Nothing could drag the image of his older brother, lying so still, out of his mind.

"Charlie, are you listening to me?" the EMT was asking again. "My name is Sarah, and I need to know if you're feeling any pain." Charlie just blinked at her. Who cares if I'm feeling pain? Doesn't anyone realize how much pain Don was in? How much pain he must be in now?

The idea of Don so fragile was too upsetting. Charlie tried to shake the image from his mind, but couldn't. One minute Don was sitting on the floor, hands cuffed around a pole behind him, and the next, he was on his feet, putting himself between that mad woman and Charlie. Why Don? Why did you do it? I couldn't even save you, but even hurt, you had to stick your neck out. What's wrong with you?

"Charlie!" Vaguely Charlie realized that wasn't the EMT talking to him, but Colby. It took Charlie a moment to figure out why he was hearing Colby's voice, then remembered that Colby was there, riding in the ambulance with him. "Charlie!" This time Colby gently seized Charlie's right arm, the one that didn't have a bullet in it.

Charlie turned his gaze on the worried looking FBI agent. "What?" he finally managed, seeing the urgency in Colby's eyes.

"You need to listen to me right now. This EMT needs to help you and you need to answer her questions. Don would be really pissed off at you right now if he could see you being rude to her." Charlie caught the hesitation in Colby's voice as the agent used Don's name, clearly sensing it was a gamble – it would either pull Charlie back from the edge, or send him right over.

Lucky for Colby, the bet played out. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was further disappoint his brother.

"I'm sorry," he said in an embarrassed tone, raising his eyes apologetically to meet the EMTs. She was short, Charlie could tell that even sitting down, and he would have thought she was fairly pretty if the situation had been different and his mind would have allowed him to think that way.

"That's ok. Are you with me now?" Charlie nodded at her. "Pay careful attention while I tell you what's going on. Are you in any pain?" Charlie thought he could remember that she had given him something earlier, right when they'd gotten into the ambulance.

"Just a little," Charlie finally said, glancing down at his wounded arm for the first time. It was more like a really sore bee sting at the moment. What ever she had given him seemed to be working well.

The wound itself was disgusting. It was nothing like what Charlie had seen on any TV show. The skin puckered in where the bullet had entered. The EMT had covered the wound in bandages, but there was dried blood that had sheeted down his arm. Charlie noted that the bandages were still white – nothing had soaked through.

Slowly, his mathematician's logical mind began to take over, soothing part of the emotional turmoil, and his need for answers became paramount.

"What…?" he asked slowly, still trying to articulate. Sarah smiled at him.

"The bullet lost most of its momentum," she said carefully, making sure not to mention that it had lost its speed passing through Don's shoulder, but Charlie could fill in the blanks. "So when it struck your arm, it didn't go very deep. In fact, it's only a few centimeters under your skin there, and it's probably only moving just a little."

"Can't you take it out?" Charlie suddenly squeaked. He'd never had too much of a stomach for wounds like this, and his dreams had occasionally been tormented by images like this, but always of Don, never of him. Unfortunately, today the dreams had become reality.

"No," she said with a gentle smile. "For a lot of reasons, but we want to prevent infection, and if I pulled it out here, you would keep bleeding, and we don't want that. Right now, the bullet's kind of acting like a cork. It's keeping all your blood inside, so you won't bleed to death on the trip to the hospital." She was smiling now, trying to put him at ease, and Charlie found himself smiling back, grateful for the distraction.

"The good news is you're going to be fine, right?" Colby said, gently squeezing Charlie's good arm.

Sarah nodded. "That's right Mr. Eppes. As far as I can tell you're going to be fine. You'll be a little sore for a week or two, but the doctors should be able to remove that bullet no problem and patch you right up. You're a mathematician right? Hope you're not left handed."

Charlie blinked at her for a moment, and realized that Colby must have filled her in a little. "No, I'm right handed."

"Good, then I think you'll be right as rain," she promised him warmly. Charlie felt the tension ease for a moment, and then the situation came rushing back.

"I'm going to be fine," he muttered. "But Don? What about my brother?" The panicked tinge to his voice was back.

Sarah frowned and glanced at Colby. Colby sighed quietly.

"Charlie, we won't know anything until we get to the hospital," Colby reminded him.

Charlie swung his now wild eyes back to Sarah. "You can tell me, can't you?"

"Mr. Eppes, Charlie," she said with a pause. "I didn't examine your brother and I'm not a doctor, so I couldn't really say."

"But you just told me I'm going to be fine!" Charlie protested, his voice creeping up a few decibels.

The EMT nodded sadly. "I know. But I'm here with you right now, I can see your wound, and I can assess it."

"He was shot, four, no," Charlie paused and swallowed hard. "Five times." Once in the beginning to overtake him, the second time as a warning, the third and fourth to prove a point and provide leverage, and the last time? The last time to save Charlie's life. "Four times in the vest. And once in the shoulder. And ribs. He had broken ribs. And he hit his head. Twice." Charlie's voice was so heavy and so constricted, that he had to look down, and tell himself to keep breathing.

The EMT gaped at him, the sympathy she felt apparent, but Charlie didn't see her. It was a good thing too, because she simply shook her head. Colby saw her, but said nothing, knowing that she thought his boss was probably in some serious trouble.

"Charlie," Colby said softly. "Don is going to need you. You're going to have to be strong for him, ok? For him and your Dad."

Charlie's head shot up. "Dad. I forgot about Dad. I have to call him. Someone has to tell him that I let Donnie get shot…"

"Charlie!" Colby's sharp tone focused the young mathematician. "You did not get Don shot. Are you listening to me? You didn't do it. You were not responsible for what happened."

Charlie blinked at Colby. He wanted to believe Colby so bad, but not now. He just couldn't. Don was probably dead. If Don lived, he could maybe think of mathematically mapping it out to see how much blame he deserved, but until then? Until he knew Don was going to live? How could he not blame himself?

"I need to talk to my father," Charlie said stubbornly, not acknowledging Colby, who was looking at him with pity and worry, which Charlie highly doubted he deserved.

"Don't worry about that now Charlie. I'm sure David went to get him."

"No!" Charlie said suddenly, knowing he was being difficult and hating himself for it. "No… David had Don's blood on his hands. If Dad sees that, he'll panic. I have to tell him…"

"Charlie?" Sarah interrupted, in a voice that brokered no argument. "You're going to have a panic attack if you don't relax a little. You're driving your heart rate up, which is forcing your blood to pump faster, and you're going to make your recovery that much worse, and your friend here is right. Your brother is going to need you, and that means you have to be physically ready for that."

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's just this has all been so overwhelming…" Charlie trailed off because both the EMT and Colby were nodding profusely.

"You don't have to apologize, but what I do need you to do is to lie back because we're coming into the hospital now."

Charlie felt a spike of fear and wish that Don was there with him, wished he could reach out to grab his brother's hand and feel the reassuring presence that Don always brought, but this time he would have to do this alone.

The slight pressure on his good arm brought him back to reality and Charlie couldn't help but smile just a little. Well, not quite alone. Even though Don wasn't there, he was inadvertently sent someone to look after him – Colby was there.

Moments later, the ambulance came to a stop, and the back doors were pulled open, and the stretcher Charlie was on began to move. The quiet of the interior of the ambulance was replaced by a nearby siren, and dozens of voices. Sarah was leaning over him, pulling the gurney, and rattling off information about his vitals to the ER staff that had come out to meet the ambulance.

Charlie turned his head to one side to see two other ambulances in the lot and he wondered which one Don had come in.

Then, Sarah was gone and they were in the building, and he was staring up at the fluorescent ceiling lights as they flashed by. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, suddenly feeling light headed.

Colby's hand never lost contact, until suddenly Charlie heard an authoritative voice from somewhere above him.

"I'm sorry sir, you can't come in here."

"My boss would want me to stay with him," Colby was protesting. "I'm with the…"

"FBI?" the voice interrupted. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't care. You'll have to wait. We'll let you know as soon as we're done here," the last part was softened a little, and Charlie opened his eyes and tried to reassure Colby, who in turn, was trying to reassure him.

"I'll be right out here Charlie," Colby assured him, then Charlie's stretcher moved again and he was through some doors into a room.

"We have a GSW to the upper left arm, bleeding has slowed, the force of the bullet was slowed when it passed through another person's arm."

Charlie winced at the statement, remembering the scene all over again – Don, there in front of him, stumbling, and then obviously falling, and Charlie was trying to reach out to him, trying to keep him from falling, and then another gun shot, but this one sounded louder than the rest. Charlie saw the blood blossom into a red mass on Don's shoulder, saw the surprised look on Don's face, then the horror that crested it, and it was only then that Charlie himself had realized that the bullet has passed into his arm.

In that moment, he'd wanted to figure out how impossible that was, but he couldn't. He couldn't because they were both falling, and he was trying to cushion Don, but he'd only been able to do so much. Charlie had heard the sharp crack resonate from Don when they'd hit the floor and watched the apologetic and guilty look cross his brother's dark, expressive eyes before they closed.

"Mr. Eppes?" the doctor was asking worriedly. "Are you still with us?" Charlie stared up at him and realized the doctor had been trying to talk to him.

"Yes," Charlie finally replied. "My brother, they brought my brother in here, maybe a few minutes earlier than me. Probably five or six, that's all. Could be more like eight or nine if everyone obeyed the law and got out of the ambulance's way, but they brought him here. I need to know if he's all right. He's an FBI agent."

"Mr. Eppes, I need you to relax. I'll send someone to find out if your brother was admitted, but I need you to focus on me. We need to take the bullet out of your arm." Charlie nodded a little, knowing the doctor was probably lying about going to ascertain Don's whereabouts, but he knew there was little he could do about it.

"Ok."

"It won't take long, but we're going to put you out. It's a simple procedure, but it's going to hurt, which is why we'll put you under. You think you're ready?"

"I just want to know if my brother's ok," Charlie protested, but there was a mask already coming down over his mouth, hazing his senses. He'd hardly noticed that the doctor had been giving orders, calling for several instruments. When the doctor just smiled warmly at him, and promised him it would be over soon, Charlie was left with nothing but the drug, which slowly hazed his world to black.