Alan Eppes revelled in the quiet atmosphere that surrounded him. For the first time in a while, he was alone in Don's hospital room, and it was just him and his son. It was nice. Not nice of course, that Don was still unconscious, but nice to have a moment by himself with his beloved child.

Alan took that time to heart. He'd only been alone with Don for a few moments at a time since the horrible incident at the bank. Since then, there had been a constant rush of people in and out of the hospital room. Of course, that was to be expected, and Alan certainly didn't begrudge any one of his son's visitors their time. In fact, he was quite touched by the outpouring of support.

There had been numerous people from the Bureau – too many to count. Besides Don's team, which had become a fixture in the room whenever they weren't on duty, there had been a virtual parade of agents, some Alan recognized and some he didn't. They had all been exceptionally respectful and kind. Don's Rabbi had stopped by and Alan had found himself overwhelming pleased to see the man. They had talked for hours, and before he'd left, he'd said a prayer for Don. It left Alan feeling content and hopeful.

And of course Charlie, Amita, and Larry had been present much of the time.

But tonight, it was just Alan – and he was grateful for that.

Megan had insisted on taking everyone out to dinner, carefully excluding Alan from her invitation. For that, Alan was impressed and pleased. She had guilted Charlie and Amita into going with her, and had winked at him on the way out. As usual, she was perceptive and must have realized that Alan simply wanted some time alone with his eldest child.

When they had left, Alan had dimmed the lights and settled in next to Don, silence stretching out in a way that was comfortable. Alan was content to just be there with Don, and to know he was alive. He wanted Don awake more than anything, but had realized that he should simply be grateful for the fact that Don was still alive. It so easily could have gone the other way. Instead of sitting for hours in a hospital room, he could be boxing up personal belongings and arranging for a headstone. Alan would take the hospital any day.

Several hours passed while Alan sat there in the quiet. A nurse or two came and went, making their rounds, checking on Don, and all were wise enough not to disturb the Eppes patriarch. He smiled at them and they let him be. It was just another night, spent in the hospital.

Alan was just debating whether or not he should leave and head home for a shower and some sleep when Don's hand twitched. For a moment, Alan was certain that he'd imagined things, and he peered at his first born intently. A long minute passed, and when nothing happened, Alan leaned back in his seat, only to lean forward again when Don's left hand twitched again.

In a moment, Alan was on his feet, torn between calling for the nurses and staying there to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. Don had been as limp as a rag doll since he'd been in the hospital and hadn't moved at all. Common sense overcame his emotional need, and he hurried to call the night nurse.

"Ellie, call Dr. Wild. Don's moving his hand," he said, his voice far more animated than it had been for what felt like weeks. Without waiting for an answer, he raced back into the room, determined to see his son's hand move again, only to get a much bigger surprise.

Dark eyes blinked lazily in the almost non existent light in the room, and then turned in his direction when he arrived, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Donnie?" he gasped out. He could hardly believe his own eyes – could hardly believe that Don was awake.

The FBI agent who would always be Alan's little boy blinked at him again, slowly, but comprehendingly, and Alan found that he was holding his breath as the words "Brain Damage" raced through his mind.

"Dad?"

The word was whispered and hard to understand, but Alan reflected later that it may have been the most beautiful thing that Don had ever said.

"Yes…yes…" Alan said, and in a moment, he was at Don's side, clutching his uninjured hand, tears welling up in his eyes. "I am so happy to see you awake."

Don blinked up at him for another moment and Alan could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. A frown crept on to his face. "Charlie…got shot. I'm sorry."

Alan couldn't help but smile and he didn't know if he should laugh, scream or cry. The emotions overwhelming him were so heavy and intense, he thought his chest was going to burst. Then, tears were streaking down his face – he found himself unable to hold them back.

"That would be the first thing you would say," Alan heard himself saying through the tears, the grin still plastered on his face. "Charlie is fine," he said, making sure to emphasize the word 'fine' so that Donnie would actually believe him.

Don was still frowning. "I know," he said, his voice rough with disuse. "Heard him… But I'm sorry."

Alan didn't know why, but the predictability of Don's statement and the fact that somehow, in his coma, he'd heard Charlie – it all made Alan want to laugh – and not just laugh, but burst into hysterics. He was barely able to contain himself.

"It wasn't your fault," he said firmly. "And I don't want to hear another word about how he's your responsibility and you took him into the bank…and you should have known better and checked twice as many times as you did… I don't want to hear it Donnie. Charlie's alive – you jumped in front of a bullet for him – and you're alive…and that's all I need." The words came out in a tumble, and although Alan felt like he was yelling, they were barely a whisper – but loud enough for Don to hear.

Brown eyes drooped in understanding. "You been…practicing that speech?"

"Don't sass your father," Alan began to snap, but trailed off when Dr. Wild arrived, dressed in casual clothing as if she'd just been heading out of the hospital.

"Well, well… Your file said you had brown eyes – but now you've proved it!" she chortled, bustling over with a grin plastered on her face. "I've done it again – saved another law enforcement officer," she crowed, and Don looked skeptically at Alan. Alan was so giddy he didn't even scold his son for the inappropriate look.

"You see Doctor? He's awake…"

"Yes, Mr. Eppes – I see that. How are you feeling Agent Eppes?" Dr. Wild asked, growing more serious and more professional as she pulled out a pen light and waved it towards Don's eyes. Instantly, Don flinched away from the light and tried to raise his injured hand to shield his eyes, hissing when he realized it was basically mummified. "Easy there…" Dr. Wild suggested, gently pressing the hand back to the bed. "That's broken – but healing quite nicely," she added when she saw the worried look cross his good looking features.

"I'm…a little tired," Don said slowly, to answer her question, and Alan listened intently, soaking in the warm sound of his son's voice. "And my chest feels…tight," he said, and looked down for the first time.

Alan moved in close again and took Don's hand. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked cautiously and he could tell Dr. Wild was listening too. Alan knew it was a good sign that Don had been speaking normally – forming thoughts and sentences – but memory loss could be a sign of brain damage as well.

"Yes," Don said, his voice tense. "I took Charlie and Megan into the bank and it was a trap. The suspect…" Don trailed off, his eyes finding his father's, and instantly, Alan knew that his eldest sons' brain was just fine. There, in his dark eyes was the calculating FBI agent trying to figure out if his father knew exactly what had happened in the bank and if he needed to be shielded from the grim reality. Apparently, Don found that Alan already knew. "The suspect shot me in my tactical vest. Am I…alright?"

"Well, you did give us a little run for our money," Dr. Wild admitted as she checked Don's blood pressure and gauged his reaction time. "You've been unconscious for over a week. You still need one more round of surgery, but I think you're going to make a full recovery. You have your Kevlar vest to thank for that," she told him honestly.

Alan couldn't help but forget to breathe while she spoke to his son, and it was all too real just how bad this had been – but there Don was – alive, and even better – awake.

Don sighed softly. "I do feel like I've been shot a dozen times over," he admitted and then made eye contact with his father as if wanting to say "But I'm ok."

"Don't think you'll be going back to work any time soon," Dr. Wild said bossily, but with a smile. "You still need time to heal. I want to send you for another CAT scan, so don't go anywhere," she said, then turned to face Alan, grasping one of his hands. "He's going to be fine," she mouthed to the older man, who was touched by her sincerity. Then, she swept from the room to order a scan.

"Where's Charlie?" Don asked cautiously after a moment.

Instantly, Alan knew what he was asking. Had Charlie retreated to the basement? He could almost read Don's mind. Dr. Wild had told him he'd been unconscious for over a week and though she hadn't said it explicitly, she was pretty clear that he'd been in some serious trouble. Don was too intelligent to look past the fact that his family had probably been through hell and back. Alan couldn't blame him for wondering if Charlie had repeated what had happened when Margaret had been sick.

"He's at dinner – with your team and Amita," Alan assured him, sitting down as he noted just how tired Don looked. "I promise you, he's fine."

Don looked pleasantly surprised at the news and nodded just a little. "Good…was worried," he said, his voice slurring just a little.

"I knew you would be," Alan said, leaning forward and taking Don's hand again. "But we were all worried about you – everyone's been here – and Amita's hardly left your side," he said with a sly grin. Don's tired eyes widened a little in surprise, and his unnaturally pale face took on a hint of pink. "You should do something about that, you know. You'd have beautiful children – and I'm not getting any younger…" Alan said, about to launch into all the benefits of marrying the pretty young woman. Don just smiled at him hugely, looking almost silly, and his odd reaction stopped Alan's speech. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Don's eyes looked watery. "Nothing Dad… It's just, I was there in the bank, and I was wondering if I'd ever see you again…and I realized I would miss things like this – things like you wanting grandchildren and wanting Charlie and I to be happy… And that was the worst part besides not being able to protect Charlie."

Alan had been expecting Don to protest and ask him to leave the subject alone, but instead, he got the rare chance to see Don with his shields down. He squeezed Don's hand. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and Don nodded, looking awkward at having just bared his soul. "But I still expect grandchildren," he added in an attempt to give Don a moment to get himself together – and it worked, just as Alan knew it was. The familiar eye roll came back.

Alan was just about to continue when they both heard quiet arguing in the hall. Don looked exhausted, but he turned his head a little, trying to listen. It was very quiet, but if they were both silent, they could hear the hushed argument.

"Charlie, I'm telling you right now that your Dad doesn't want to be bothered right now!" a feminine voice scolded, and they both recognized it as Amita.

"But he really shouldn't stay here all night – he needs to go home." The second voice was without a doubt Charlie.

"He's a grown man Charlie, I'm sure he can make that decision on his own."

"Are you and Megan both in a conspiracy to keep me away from Don?" Charlie bit back, though it was hard to tell if he was actually angry.

Alan gave Don an amused glance and winked at him, standing stiffly and heading for the door. He poked his head out and caught the two mathematicians mid argument.

"Excuse me, but if the two of you wouldn't mind, heated discussions aren't good for patient recovery," he said pointedly, trying to keep a straight face. They both stared at him for a moment, clearly confused, but Amita figured it out first and she let out a very un-lady like shriek and nearly knocked Charlie over on her way past Alan.

Charlie blinked in confusion, and then his eyes opened wide.

"Don's awake?"

"Yes Charlie, Donnie is awake," Alan responded, no longer able to keep the grin off his face and found his eyes damp again. Charlie gaped for a moment later, then a slow grin spread across his face and he rushed past Alan into the room, leaving the Eppes patriarch in the hall to gather himself and to finally allow himself the luxury of knowing that everything was going to be just fine.