Title: The Fury of the Wind
Author: Windimere Wellen
Part: 12 of ?
Disclaimer: Don't sue me, I don't intend on any violation of rights.
Author's Note: Once more, you are all amazing. My brother is on leave from the NAVY this weekend, and has brought home his new gf for the family to meet, so I won't be posting for a few days probably, so bear with me. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Lady Winter
The car ride to LA Central was better than the first ride to Grace Memorial, but only a little. The differences were small, but they meant a lot to Alan. For one, they weren't in Don's SUV, which was strangely relieving. And secondly, Megan wasn't driving, Colby was. It wasn't that Alan didn't trust Megan, after all, she was his son's partner. It was just that she looked almost as horrible as Charlie had. Alan felt much safer in Colby's hands.
Thinking of Charlie produced a wave of guilt that washed over Alan Eppes. He had sent his youngest son home for a few reasons. The first few he had told Charlie – the doctor had prescribed bed rest, and Charlie was in pain. He clearly needed to be resting and starting the healing process. Charlie was also plainly exhausted, and would have had a hard time staying awake for the ride to Central. Alan had also been forthcoming by telling Charlie that he needed to know that at least one of his son's was safe. But there was more.
Alan didn't want Charlie to have to face what was going on. Because he had no idea exactly what was going on, he naturally wanted to protect Charlie by feeling everything else out first. If things were as serious as they seemed, Charlie would be unlikely to handle the situation well.
The Eppes patriarch also didn't want Charlie to see his own reaction to what was going on. A million emotions were swirling around Alan Eppes, and in their midst was anger, and a lot of it. Alan was pretty much angry at everything. He was angry at the people responsible for hurting his son. He was angry he didn't have any details about what had happened. He was angry that Charlie was blaming himself. He was angry that Charlie might have let Don down. He was angry that Don had put his younger brother in danger. He was angry at the FBI for allowing this to happen. He was angry at Don for joining the FBI. He was angry at Don for getting hurt. But most of all, he was angry at himself. He was angry that he was angry – angry that he was trying to put the blame anywhere else besides on himself.
Part of him knew that it was his fault that Don had joined the FBI. Not directly of course, but Alan had contributed to his eldest son's need to prove himself. Not that he could have stopped Don. It also wasn't that he didn't think Don should be an FBI agent. It was just that he didn't like the idea of Don's life being in danger. And tonight was exactly the reason why.
It was better that Charlie wasn't there to see his father's churning emotions, and if, God forbid, Don wasn't alive, or wasn't going to make it, that was something Charlie shouldn't see. Alan wasn't sure Charlie could handle it. He had withdrawn so far when Margaret had been sick and eventually passed, that Alan had been at a loss at what to do.
The stakes were higher now. Don had unknowingly become Charlie's lifeline, and if he were to die... Well, there was no telling what might happen to Charlie. For that matter, Alan didn't know what would become of himself. Don was one of the two things he held most precious in the world, and the other was Charlie. A father was not supposed to bury his son.
Alan was shocked at how pessimistic he had suddenly become. He'd always tried to find the silver lining in anything, and was usually one of the last to give up – a trait he'd always prided himself for having passed on to both of his boys.
"What am I thinking?" Alan muttered, but only loud enough that Megan glanced slightly in his direction. What am I thinking? Don's a strong young man. He's physically fit, young, in good condition, and he has a lot to live for. Like Charlie. Like me. He wouldn't leave us.
"We're almost there," Colby said quietly from the front seat. Alan had opted for the back of the non-descript FBI car that some random agent had dropped off at the hospital for Colby.
"Megan, I need to know what happened," Alan said suddenly, his stomach clenching. He was glad the words had actually come out. He was afraid that they'd be stuck in his throat forever.
Megan swiveled her head to look at him, her eyes strangely dimmed, but she seemed surprised.
"Mr. Eppes…"
"Don't get all Don-like on me. I don't want any lines about how it's an FBI investigation and you really shouldn't say. Both of my sons were injured tonight working for the FBI and I really need to know what I should be expecting when we get to the hospital."
Immediately, Alan wished he could take the words back. Not only because Megan looked like she'd been hit, a look of self-loathing passing over her face, but because he was suddenly afraid. He was back to square one – not wanting to know what kind of horrors his sons had been through earlier in the afternoon.
"Ok," Megan relented, and Alan was surprised he wasn't going to have to fight her, but she looked defeated. "But you're not going to like it."
Alan nodded. He hadn't expected to like it. "I know. Go ahead though. I have to know."
Megan sighed, then began haltingly, as if she didn't know exactly where to start. She canvassed the case quickly, giving only pertinent information as to why Charlie had been involved and why it had brought his two children to the bank to begin with. She emphasized that because the man they were going to see had been cooperating throughout the two week investigation, there had been no cause to suspect him. There had been no cause to suspect that anything would go wrong.
As gently as she could, she told him about how she and Don had suspected it was an inside job, and how Charlie had confirmed it. It had never crossed any of their minds that the man they had been liaising with all along would have been one of the inside men. She tried to gloss over the initial altercation, but Alan made her go over it slowly, so he could understand what had happened.
"He… He pulled a gun on Charlie, and both Don and I were moving to… to stop him, but he had help. A lot of it. Five other accomplices," she said slowly, clearly hoping to make things more clear. "I… I didn't get much of a chance to do anything, but Don tangled with two of them. They…they broke his ribs." Alan was startled by this revelation, but felt relieved. How bad could a few broken ribs be? Don had broken a few playing baseball in his younger days.
"And then she shot him," Megan added slowly, her voice constricted. Alan felt his stomach drop and he winced.
"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse. It wasn't that he didn't know that Don had been shot at before – even been shot - because he knew that Don had, but hearing it like this was so different. When he'd found out about the other incidents, it had always been from Don, standing in front of him. Standing in front of him very much alive.
"He had his vest on. She hit him in the vest," Megan said, hurrying to ease some of his fear.
"But why? I thought you said that you weren't expecting any trouble," Alan protested, his stomach churning, suddenly thankful to the people who had created Kevlar. Megan explained smoothly that she and Don had been at a bust earlier in the morning, and had worn their vests as a precaution. She'd taken hers off, but Don hadn't. Alan thought about that for a moment, and wondered what Charlie would make of the chances that Don just wouldn't have had time to take off his vest.
"So that's not so bad," Alan began, but the look on Megan's face told him he was jumping the gun.
"There… There's more," she said quietly. It took only a moment to explain how they'd broken Don's hand to get his gun, how he'd hit his head when he'd fallen, and how they'd locked him to the pole.
Then she began to tell Alan something that would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. She told him what they had asked of Charlie and what the stakes were. With shame in her voice, she described three more bullets in Don's vest, and the anguish in Charlie's face and voice, and the never ending struggle from Don as he tried to escape and breathe. As he tried to get to his younger brother.
"Oh God," Alan said, bile rising in the back of his throat as he imagined what kind of torture both of his boys had just suffered. For the moment, it was unfathomable, and he had to shut it out, knowing that it would need to be analyzed and dissected later. "But Charlie was shot," he said, forcing his wavering voice on. "So there must be more."
Megan nodded shortly as Colby turned into Central's parking garage, and Alan noted that Colby was listening as intently as he was, his normally tan face a shade lighter even in the dark. Clearly he hadn't heard the story yet.
With a little more light in her voice, she expressed to Alan how proud he should be of Charlie, and told him of the trap he'd set. Then she'd continued, but Alan could have filled in the blanks – the criminals would have had no real reason to keep them alive. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. As carefully as she could, Megan explained how Don had escaped his cuffs as the woman had turned her gun on Charlie, just as the FBI tactical team was arriving.
Alan could have told her the rest of the story himself because he knew Don well enough to know what his eldest son would do in a situation like that, so he wasn't surprised to hear Megan say that Don had put himself between the bullet and Charlie.
Suddenly what the doctor had said about the velocity of the bullet having slowed down, resulting in the less serious nature of Charlie's wound, made sense.
"The bullet went through Donnie first," he gasped out, not aware that he had stopped breathing.
"Yes," Megan said, suddenly sounding old and tired. "I… I am so sorry," she managed to get out as Colby turned off the car and pulled the key out of the ignition. In seconds, Megan was in tears, and Alan was out of the car, opening her door and pulling her out to hug her.
"It's not your fault. I don't blame you."
"Please, don't blame Don for what happened to Charlie. He didn't know. I swear. That was my job. To profile. I should have seen it. I'm so sorry." She was sobbing now, but her words cut straight to Alan's heart. She was afraid he would blame Don for putting Charlie in danger, and the worst part was that she was right. Not consciously of course, but somewhere, inside of him, he would have initially wanted to put this on Don. Because Don was always supposed to know better. Alan bit back the shame. There would be time for blame later.
"This is not your fault, and I don't blame Don," he told her with all the sincerity he could muster. It took a few moments, but she stopped crying finally.
"I'm sorry, we should go in," she said apologetically again, and turned to find Colby squeezing her hand tightly, a frown of worry marring his face.
"It's just that I don't know if I want to," Alan finally managed. This time it was Megan's turn to give him a hug.
Steeling himself, Alan started towards the elevator that would take them to the main hospital lobby. The ride down was silent. Colby looked as if he wanted to offer words of encouragement, but he didn't say anything. Alan was slightly grateful for the silence.
Before he even realized it, they were in the lobby, standing in front of the information desk, and for the second time that day, Alan found himself having to ask about his son from a hospital employee.
"I'm looking for my son. Donald Eppes? He was brought in by a Mercy Flight?" Alan asked tentatively, and the man at the desk, looking unconcerned typed in the name.
"Eppes? The federal agent?" he asked curiously after a moment. Alan's heart froze up and he found himself unable to answer.
"Yes," Megan said, stepping up. The receptionist immediately took in the yellow FBI letters emblazoned on the side of her jacket.
"He's in the trauma wing. Down the hall, up the yellow elevators to the second floor and turn right. You can't miss it." Alan heard the pity in the man's voice and wondered just what kind of information got passed around the hospital.
Wordlessly, they were on their way, more silence ensuing as they found the elevators and took the short trip up. When they emerged, the bright lights were almost overwhelming, and Alan almost flinched away from the red letters that read TRAUMA CENTER on the walls.
Colby's steadying hand was the only thing that kept him walking towards the small nurse's station in the middle of a fairly nice waiting room.
There were a few people here and there, all looking exhausted and upset. In the corner a woman sat in a lounge chair, a little boy asleep on her lap. She looked to have been crying. Just past her were an elderly couple, the woman's head resting on the man's as he whispered encouraging things. On the far side was a young man, his head between his hands, staring absently at the floor.
"Can I help you?" Alan was startled out of his survey of the room by the nurse who had stood to greet them, from behind her desk. She was eyeing Colby and Megan's jackets with a knowing look. "Are you here for Agent Eppes?"
"Yes we are," Megan said when Alan couldn't find any words, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.
"I'm sorry, I know you're bureau, but we won't be able to tell you any information. Only his immediate family…"
"I'm his family," Alan interrupted quickly. "I'm his father. Please, I need to know how my son is." Alan caught the brief shadow of pity that crossed her face before she schooled her features.
"We were hoping he had someone," she said with a forced smile, but Alan could tell she meant it. "Can I see some ID?"
Alan fumbled with his wallet, and finally handed her his driver's license. She looked it over carefully, then handed it back.
"I'm sorry for all the formalities, but its regulations, especially when dealing with a federal officer."
"Please," Alan said with a wave of his hand. "My son. How is he? Can I see him?"
Another look of something unreadable crossed her pleasant face. "Actually, your son's in surgery right now Mr. Eppes, and until the doctor is done, there's nothing I can tell you. You'll have to wait."
"Surgery?" Alan breathed the word out as if it was poison. "What kind of surgery?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Eppes, I don't have any details on what kind of operation they were performing. But I can tell you that your son arrived forty five minutes ago and they took him right into surgery. The best thing you can do now is wait. As soon as Dr. Welker is available, I'll let him know you're here."
"You can't tell us anything else?" Megan practically demanded. Colby reached out to sooth her and to keep the peace, but the nurse looked understanding enough.
"I don't know anything else," she promised. "I'm sorry."
So Alan Eppes was left to wait, and as he sunk down into one of the plush chairs that had been provided, probably from some generous donation, he put his head in his hands, and for the first time, allowed himself to cry, because there wasn't anything else he could do.