A/N: Thanks for the reviews, all. Rhapsodista, you have me pegged.

Chapter 20

Dr. Boyle grabbed his patient's file, and strode down the hall toward Grimes. "Hey, Bobby, I'm going out to update the family – did you hear anything on your guy?"

Grimes shook his head with a look of confusion. "He's still in surgery. I heard he coded, but they got him back. Doesn't really sound so hot, though. That's all – why?"

"Well, they're brothers – I guess their dad is out there."

"Brothers – seriously?" Grimes thought for a moment. "I don't know if it'll do any good to tell him that his son coded – at least not until Atchison is done. Better just tell them he's still in surgery, and we can have Atchison come out and update them."

Boyle snorted at him, as he headed past on his way to the waiting area. "Chicken."

Grimes grinned. "You got it. Good luck."

As Boyle reached the waiting room and saw the contingent of FBI officers, he realized that he was going to need that luck. He ignored them, however, and headed straight for the older man in their center. "Mr. Eppes?"

Alan had risen at the doctor's approach, his face hopeful. "Yes. I'm Alan Eppes, Don and Charlie's father."

"I'm Dr. Boyle. I have an update on your son Don," replied Boyle. He shot a meaningful glance at the officers, which Alan interpreted correctly.

"They can hear what you have to say."

Boyle nodded. He'd have to give them a report anyway; he was sure, for their investigation. This would save him some time. "We've stabilized him, and are moving him to our critical care unit for at least this evening. We could have opted to put him in a regular room, but we felt it was safer to put him in the CCU for tonight, where he'll be closely monitored. He has a moderate concussion, broken ribs, one of which pierced his pleural cavity, causing a tension pneumothorax, or collapsed lung. He also has a hairline leg fracture – his fibula, the smaller bone in his lower leg, and he has multiple contusions. One eye is extremely swollen – we don't believe the eye itself is badly injured, but we will have an ophthalmologist check it tomorrow, when some of the swelling has gone down. His injuries are not life threatening in and of themselves, but collectively, there is a lot of damage, which has an effect on chemical levels in his blood. For that reason, we want to watch him closely, until his blood levels stabilize. He has been drifting in and out of consciousness, and I imagine he'll be pretty out of it for a while, especially with the pain medication we're going to start. We'll let you know as soon as he's in a room."

Alan could feel nausea rising as the doctor cited the long list of injuries, and he concentrated on trying to breath evenly. "And my other son, Charlie – is there anything on him?"

Boyle's expression went flat, neutral. The others didn't seem to notice, but Megan's radar went up, and she watched him closely as he spoke. "He's still in surgery. The surgeon is Dr. Atchison; he's one of the best in L.A. He'll be out to update you when he's done."

Alan thanked him, and Boyle turned to escape, breathing a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however; as he reached the doors a voice stopped him, and he turned to face the female agent. She had attractive eyes, and he had the perception that they missed nothing. That perception was verified as she spoke. "You didn't tell us everything, did you?" she asked softly. At his hesitation, she added, "It's alright; I won't tell the family anything you don't want known. I am running this investigation, however, and I need to be kept informed of the details."

"I did give him everything on his son Don. I don't have a direct report on his other son, but it doesn't sound like it's going too well. I understand he coded – they got him back, but the outcome is uncertain from the sounds of it. Atchison is good, though, and the fact is, it's just too early to tell. I didn't figure there was any sense worrying his father until we knew more."

Megan nodded, her expression clouding. "I agree with that; I think you're right. Thanks for the update."

Boyle nodded. "Sure." He took a last glance at her face; she seemed more troubled than he'd expect – it almost seemed as though there was a personal connection. He wondered about it, vaguely, but he wasn't going to stick around to ask. He'd never been particularly comfortable with this part of his job, especially when the news he had to deliver wasn't good. He pushed back through the doors, with a sigh of relief.

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When Don woke again, it was in a much brighter place. The ICU/CCU rooms were small, and filled with equipment, but the walls were light colored and the overhead lighting made him wince. The entire front wall of the unit was glass, and looked out on a central desk area, which was also brightly lit. The general atmosphere wasn't conducive to privacy, but the layout was efficient, and allowed the staff to keep a close eye on their patients.

He was a little more aware this time, which wasn't necessarily a good thing – his head, chest and leg were all throbbing, apparently trying to keep time with a softly beeping monitor next to his bed. Still, his mind was anything but clear; he had the foggy notion he was in a hospital room, and it took a minute to remember why. That brought along with it a memory of Charlie, and he felt a stab of fear in his gut as he remembered what happened in the warehouse. It was nothing like what he experienced though a moment later, as two CCU nurses walked by his door, and their conversation floated in.

"Yeah, I guess we're getting another one," one of them was saying.

"I think we're in for a busy night," said the other.

"Could have been busier yet, though. I heard they had a GSW who came in DOA, and there was a stabbing victim who they lost in the ER. Rotten night…,"

Their words faded as they passed, but it didn't matter; Don had lost any ability to focus after "stabbing victim," and "lost in the ER." He stared at the ceiling in shock, as a huge crushing wave of grief rose inside him, far more painful than any of his injuries. "Charlie," he moaned softly, as hot tears stung his eyes. "Oh, God, Charlie…,"

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Alan stepped in through the door of the CCU 3, and stopped, stunned. His older son was unrecognizable; his face swollen and misshapen; splotched with red and purple bruises. When he added the fact that Don was sobbing quietly, his face further contorted with grief, the person in the bed bore no resemblance to his son – none whatsoever. Alan felt his heart contract in his chest, a spasm of sympathy and pain, as he hurried forward, completely forgetting Megan and Colby behind him.

"Donnie, my God, what is it, son? Are you in pain?" Alan took Don's hand, and looked around wildly for a nurse.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Don choked, "I never should have gotten him that gun – it made – it made him think he could – I told him to get out, but he wouldn't listen -,"

Alan had looked back at him, frowning in bewilderment and despair and near tears himself, at seeing his son so battered, so distraught. "Donnie – it's okay – you need to calm down. He'll be okay -,"

"He's not okay!" The words came out with a rush, and a sob. "They said he didn't make it – it's my fault…"

Alan felt the room spin. "Didn't make it – who – who said that?"

"The nurses," Don whispered. "They said they – lost him." His head was throbbing, his body aching, and his heart ready to explode with grief – it was unbearable, he wanted it to end…

Alan staggered away from the bed, into Megan and Colby, who were standing stunned behind him. He reeled around them, and stumbled out of the door toward the nurses' station. "Charlie – what do you know about Charlie? What happened?"

The nurses looked at him in confusion and alarm – the man seemed deranged, his voice too loud, frantic. "I'm sorry, sir – I don't know -,"

Alan whirled away from them, blindly moving toward the elevator doors, almost colliding with a doctor who had just emerged from them. "Doesn't anyone know what in the hell is going on here?! I want to see my boy!"

The doctor, a trim man in his late forties, grabbed him by the arm to steady him. "Sir, please calm down – who is it you want to see?"

Alan finally broke, tears welling in his eyes, leaning heavily on the man. "Someone said he didn't make it – Charlie Eppes – my son…"

The doctor looked at him and, oddly enough, smiled. "That's news to me. I'm his surgeon, Dr. Atchison. I just left him a few minutes ago in recovery, very much alive. I'm happy to say, I think we even managed to save his kidney. I was just coming up to give you an update."

Alan looked at him rather stupidly, blinking the tears away. "He's alive?" He stared, then straightened suddenly, and placed a hand on the doctor's arm. "Would you please give us your update in my son Don's room? I think we both need to hear this."

Atchison nodded amiably. "Certainly."

He followed Alan into CCU 3, passing two FBI agents, whose relieved faces earned them a second glance. One of the nurses also entered to listen in the event the doctor had instructions, but Don was oblivious to the small crowd gathering in his room, his eyes closed, still streaming with tears.

"Donnie," said Alan in a voice shaky with relief. "I don't know what you heard, but Charlie's okay. This is his surgeon – he came up to give us an update."

Don blinked, and then turned his one good eye on them, confusion on his face. "But the nurses – they said they lost him in the ER -,"

"Oh, my God," said the nurse, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh – that was us – we were talking outside his room about a stabbing victim who didn't make it – we didn't even know he could hear us – oh, my God, I am so sorry-," She took a few steps toward Don, as if to touch his arm; then stopped herself, looking at him, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. "It was someone else – I'm sorry." She looked in panic at Atchison – she knew the indiscretion could mean her job.

Don looked at her, then at Alan as if for confirmation, and asked weakly, "He's okay?"

Dr. Atchison took the question. "Yes – he's okay. I won't lie to you – it was touch and go for a while. He'd lost a lot of blood – the knife blade entered his renal capsule, and nicked a large blood vessel leading from the hepatic artery on the way in. We managed to stop the bleeding, and I think chances are good that we saved his kidney. He is in critical condition, however – at one point his heart stopped on the table, but it was a very brief episode. He'll need several units of blood, and we'll need to watch him closely, but I would term the surgery a raging success. In fact, they should be bringing him up here in about a half hour." He looked at Don and smiled reassuringly. "He'll be in the room right next to yours."

There was a tandem sigh from Don and Alan, and Don closed his good eye, and took in a shaky breath. Atchison glanced at the agents behind him. "I surmise you were here to question him – I think after all this excitement, he probably needs a rest. Can it wait?"

"Actually, we were just here to see him," said Megan. "He's a - ," she hesitated, looking for the word – "coworker, and friend. We can come back later." She smiled at Don, who had opened his right eye again. He was too drained to come up with words, but shot her and Colby a look of gratitude, as they turned and walked out.

He felt a hand on his; it was Alan, who squeezed it gently. "Just rest now, Donnie," he heard, as he closed his eyes, feeling as though a weight was lifting from his chest. The pain seemed suddenly easier to bear, and moments later, as the nurse added pain medication to his IV, he drifted off to sleep. Just before it claimed him, he had a vision of his brother's face, still with the soft smile, but the eyes had lost the dull vacant look. They were looking directly at him, warm and alive, and he smiled back.

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A half hour later, Alan waited outside CCU 4, as they wheeled Charlie in, carefully, and began to situate him, hooking up monitors, arranging IV's. Oddly, he felt slightly disappointed; he'd had the hope that his son would be conscious. Not only was Charlie still out, he was intubated, and the tubes snaking into and out of him were daunting. IV's containing medications and blood, a drainage tube, and an additional tube leading from the foot of the bed to a bag that looked like another blood transfusion, until Alan realized with a sickening jolt that it led from a catheter – the normally clear yellow fluid was red with blood draining from Charlie's kidney.

As the room cleared, he stepped forward, and gently pushed a bedraggled lock of hair from his son's pale face. He could see bruises on his cheekbone and jaw, and although his face was not nearly as damaged as his brother's was, the pallor and complete stillness were disconcerting. It was broken only by the faint movement of his son's chest, in time with the whoosh of the respirator. Alan laid a gentle hand on his son's arm, and shook his head, as he tried to imagine him driving off into the night in his brother's SUV, armed with a pistol.

He shook his head in amazement. "Charlie, what were you thinking?"

There was no response but silence, and the soft hiss of the respirator.

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End Chapter 20

A/N: There are only two more chapters after this one, and I intend to wrap up the loose ends. However, I am inserting a shameless commercial. At Tanager36's urging I am going to start posting a new story, called Bird Flu. I was going to wait until this one was done, but T36 has twisted my arm. It's a plot bunny that is over two years old, and it still seemed worth writing. Hopefully you'll think the same!