A/N: Thank you to everyone for the reviews. One of these days the site will start sending alerts of all sorts promptly.

Chapter 4

His head felt like it was about to fall off, his right arm like he really wanted it to fall off, and he could barely move his left hand. It wasn't a pleasant transition back into wakefulness, by any stretch of the imagination.

And then Don opened his eyes.

It was only when he found that he couldn't get away any further, that there was a wall against his back, that Don realised he'd moved. One second he was lying next to what used to be a person, but was almost unrecognisable as such, its face bashed to a pulp, the next he was across the room, curled in on himself, hiding from the view. And realising that his left hand was covered in blood. His gorge rose and he managed to lean to the side just in time so that he didn't vomit on himself.

He'd done it. He'd killed the man with his own two hands.

He had to get away from what he'd done.

Suddenly Don was at the top of a flight of stairs, looking into a very ordinary living area. There were two comfy chairs, a TV and dvd player, a table with some sports magazines strewn on it. All ordinary, yet somehow too much to look at, overwhelming to his starved senses. The next doorway led into a kitchen and Don stopped halfway through the room. He picked a medium-sized knife from the knife block, finding it hard to force his stiffened left hand to grasp it. His right arm was wrapped in the bottom of his t-shirt to stabilise it, any movement sending agony pulsing through him. He didn't even remember wrapping it around his arm. There was a hall and a door at the end of it. Frosted glass in a panel at head height, a dead bolt on the inside.

Then he was stepping down onto a path that wound through the front yard, knife still in hand. The path was rough under his bare feet, the street rougher. The air was cool, raising goosebumps on his bare arms. It was dark, the streets empty, lights out in the surrounding houses.

Don started walking.

Colby was hoping that they were right. There were nerves in the pit of his stomach as he drove, fast as he could safely.

It had been almost four months since Don had gone missing. Colby had accepted the realisation that Don was likely dead and there was a good chance that they'd never find his body. He hadn't ever said it outright to Robin, Alan or Charlie, but he thought that they knew. They were still hoping, but underneath that hope they knew that Don was never coming home.

And now, Colby was hoping that he was about to see a miracle...and hoping that the cost of it wasn't too high. It was Gary Walker who had called him. Two uniforms on patrol had found a man, dazed and injured, wandering the streets, a knife in his hand. One of them had recognised him—Gary had made sure that Don's description and photo had been hammered into all of the LAPD's officers—and contacted Gary, as per Gary's orders. They hadn't been able to get Don, presuming they were right and it was Don, to put down the knife, so they were hoping that a familiar face might help. Well, two familiar faces—Gary was on his way as well. If they could avoid pepper spraying or tasing Don, then they'd try.

Colby spotted the black and whites and pulled in behind them, the nerves increasing. As he stepped out of the car, he could hear Gary's voice. He turned towards the sound, finally spotting the officers...and Don.

It was Don. There was absolutely no doubt in Colby's mind. He was sitting on the curb, knife still held in his hand, Gary a few feet away, crouched down and talking to him. The first things that Colby noticed were that Don was barefoot and he'd lost weight and muscle. But his hair was about the same length as when he'd disappeared, and there was only a few days growth of beard on his face. It also looked like he was wearing the same t-shirt and jeans as he'd been wearing. It was a dichotomy that didn't make sense. Don was also cradling his right arm, the knife held in his non-dominant left hand. His left hand looked banged up and there was blood on his hand, shirt and neck.

Seeing Colby, Gary stood up and backed off a few feet. Don took no notice. His gaze was unfocussed and he didn't seem to realise that they were there.

"Lieutenant," Colby said.

"Granger," Walker acknowledged. "He's completely out of it. Maybe you'll have better luck getting through to him."

Colby took Gary's place, crouching down in front of Don, making sure to stay out of reach if Don suddenly lost it and tried to lunge at him with the knife. Don's expression was still blank; the lights on, but nobody home.

"Don," Colby said, "it's Colby." There was no eye movement, nothing to indicate that Don had heard his voice or recognised it. "Man, am I glad to see you. We've all missed you. Your dad, Charlie, Robin." At Robin's name, Colby thought that Don's head had moved slightly, looking more towards him. "Especially Robin. They'll be so happy to see you."

Come on, Don, Colby thought. Come back to us. Don was looking at him now, but there still wasn't any recognition in his gaze.

"You want to see them, see Robin, don't you? Don you've got to drop the knife first. I can't take you to see them until you drop the knife."

Don's gaze lowered to his hand.

"You need to let the knife go, Don. You're safe, and you can't see Robin until you let it go."

Don's hand moved and Colby's stomach tightened, knowing that the officers behind him had their weapons trained on Don. Then there was a flood of relief, Don had dropped it beside him.

"That's good, Don," Colby praised, slowly moving to retrieve it. "Thank you."

Don's eyes caught his, and this time Colby thought that Don really saw him. "Hey, Don, it's going to be okay."

Colby somehow seemed to register the panic that suddenly gripped Don a second before it showed on his face. They were both going for the knife, but Colby got there first, flinging it across the gravel and out of reach. The knife gone, Don hit him in the face instead with his left hand. The blow was stronger than he'd expected, Don propelled by fear.

Gary joined him, and together they managed to restrain the frantically struggling man on the ground, worried that if they didn't he might continue fighting or try to run. The limbs were suddenly limp in their grasps and Don's eyes had closed; he'd passed out.

"What the hell happened to you?" Colby murmured as he and Gary both let go.

"There's an ambulance on the way," Gary said.

Suddenly Gary was staggering back, struck by a punch to the jaw, and Don was up and fighting again. He'd been feigning unconsciousness, Colby realised. They restrained him again, Don's struggle more frantic but not as strong, and this time Colby grabbed his right arm. To Colby's surprise, Don collapsed like his strings had been cut. It had to have hurt a lot.

"You okay?" Colby asked Gary, willing the ambulance to hurry up. This time they weren't letting go of Don. Colby thought he was really unconscious this time, but they weren't taking the risk.

"Yeah," Walker replied. "He's still got a hell of a punch. These the clothes he was wearing when he disappeared?"

Colby nodded. "They look like it."

"He's lost a lot of weight."

"Yeah." Now that Colby was right beside him, he could see how much. Don wasn't skeletal, but a lot of his muscle was gone and he was skinny. To have lost that much in four months wasn't good.

The ambulance finally arrived and Don still hadn't stirred. They efficiently loaded him in and started checking for injuries on the way to the hospital. His right arm was likely broken, he had a laceration and lump on the back of his head, his left hand was swollen and bruised, and the bottom of his feet were scraped. On top of all that there was the weight loss.

To Colby, it all added up to somebody holding Don hostage and Don escaping, most likely after a fight with his captor. The head wound could explain his aggression and confusion, on top of whatever had happened to him while he was gone. Four months was a long time. They had Don back, but Colby already knew that Don wasn't the same man as when he'd disappeared.

The bed was surprisingly soft, which Don knew contradicted his previous hospital experiences. But, then, anything would seem soft after lying on concrete. The ache from Don's arm, hand, feet and back of his head were all down to a dull throb. He was waiting to have surgery on his arm. The doctor had asked if he'd broken it before, recently. Don had only been able to answer with a nod, the words wouldn't come.

The feeling that he was going through an out of body experience had mostly gone away. But he was still confused, a little disconnected, and unsure if any of his experience was real. Time had seemed to jump before, and then there had been Colby and Gary Walker. Before that, even though he hadn't really felt there, he'd been sure that he'd escaped. And then two people he knew had suddenly appeared, and there was no way that they could have known to turn up there. That had made him sure that he was stuck in a dream. And now, he just didn't know. It felt real. But Don couldn't even remember how he'd escaped. He knew he had, but he couldn't remember how. Thinking about it just made him feel anxious.

Don had wanted to reply to the doctor, but he couldn't figure out how to get the words out. How to get any words out. In his dreams he could speak, so maybe it meant that this was real. It felt like so long since he'd last spoken. The doctor had tried to get him to answer different questions vocally, but Don couldn't. After a brief physical examination, Don had heard the doctor ask for extra scans and a psychiatric consultation. It was a relief when he was left alone for a bit—all the scans, noise and the bright light, the touches against his skin, it was overwhelming.

"Don?"

Colby was standing at the curtain dividing off his little cubicle, hands in his pockets. Was this real? He'd dreamed so many times of escaping, he didn't want this to be another dream. He couldn't cope if this was just another dream. Colby approached his bed, and Don saw that his cheek was bruised. He had a vague remembrance of hitting Colby, and he felt guilty. He'd been so confused and scared at the time, so sure that he was in a dream.

"You look a lot better than when I last saw you." The tone was light, but Don could hear the underlying worry. "So the doctor says that you're being even less talkative than usual."

Don shrugged slightly. He might not be able to speak, but at least he could use non-verbal gestures.

"Is there something wrong with your voice?"

Don shrugged again. Maybe there was, he didn't know. It just wouldn't work. Even though there were questions he wanted to ask. How long had he been gone, where was Robin and his family—he wanted to see them. Was this real?

Don's eyes lit on a way to find out the answer to the first question. Colby's watch had the date as well as the time. Don extended his left hand towards Colby's arm, trying to gesture that he wanted to see the watch.

"What?" Colby asked, puzzled, as he lifted his hand up. Don frowned and growled slightly, bringing his left hand back and using the mummified digits to point at his right wrist.

It took Colby another second to realise what he wanted, but then he was showing Don the watch face. Don kept on staring at the date unable to believe it. He'd had absolutely no concept of time, no idea how long he'd been gone. Four months. The number was staggering. Don sagged back against the pillows propping him up, trying to comprehend it. He'd lost a third of a year. How many things had he missed out on? How many events and milestones, what was happening in his friends' and family's lives? What was happening in Robin's life? Robin...

It hit him like a freight train. He'd missed his wedding. He began to feel light-headed and his heart pounded in his chest. His hands started to tingle.

"Don, you need to calm down," Colby urged, alarm in his tone.

Easier said than done, Don thought, slightly hysterical.

A nurse appeared, asking Colby what had happened, and he started telling Don when to breathe in and out. It eventually worked, slowing his breathing and heart down and the anxiety settled down to a low constant level. He could deal with that.

He needed to see Robin. Conveying that to Colby was more difficult, but he quickly figured out what Don was mouthing.

"Robin? You want to see Robin?"

Don nodded emphatically, wincing when it hurt his head.

"What about your dad or Charlie?"

Don shook his head. He just wanted to see Robin. He needed to see her first.

"Okay," Colby reassured him. "I'll see whether they're here yet. Are you going to be okay while I get her?"

Don wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway. If Colby had to find someone else to get her, it would take longer.

While he waited, he tried to grapple with the time frame and what he'd missed. It was like he'd screwed up another relationship—he hadn't even shown up for his own wedding! Not that it was his fault, but he couldn't seem to get a break when it came to relationships. He'd been gone for four months. They'd have to assume that he wasn't coming back, that he was probably dead. What if Robin had moved on? What if she was dating someone else?

The anxiety started to rise again, feeling like a snake was starting to squeeze the life out of him. If Robin left him... It didn't matter that the thought that Robin would find someone else in the four months that he'd been gone was completely unreasonable and something that he knew would never happen, the fear was still there.

The need to see her was overwhelming. If she didn't appear in front of him in the next minute—not that he could tell time, he still didn't have a watch—he was going to go looking for her.

Then Don heard Robin's voice. He tried to call out to her, but his own still wasn't working. Colby came into view first, gesturing to someone out of sight, and then Robin rushed past the curtain to his side, both joy and sadness on her face. He took in everything about her. She'd cut her hair; it was shoulder length, the shortest he'd ever seen it. He immediately missed her long hair. And she was still wearing his ring. She hadn't moved on.

His left arm had automatically gone out and around her, and he pulled her towards him. She rested her chin against his shoulder for a few seconds, both her arms enfolding him possessively, before moving back slightly to kiss him, still not letting go. The kisses were desperate and Don relished every single one.

It had to be real, no dream could feel like this did. Could it?

They paused for breath and as Robin smiled at him, Don realised that she was crying. He gently wiped away some of the wetness with his gauze-covered hand. It was only when she brushed her fingers against his cheek that he realised he was crying as well.

"I've missed you so much," Robin said hoarsely, pent up longing in her voice. "So so much."

Don responded by kissing her again, this time long and lingering. Memorising what she tasted like, what she felt like. When they broke apart he rested his forehead against hers. They stayed that way for several seconds, but then Robin moved slightly away, keeping her hand on his left arm. He was glad she did, he needed the connection, to really know that she was there.

She studied him for a moment, eyes flickering over everything. His hand, his other arm, his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Don nodded, wanting to say, "Now that you are here." He attempted it, but still no sound would come. Robin frowned, worry in her eyes, and he tried to smile reassuringly. He was starting to get worried himself. How long had had it been since he'd spoken? Had he forgotten how?

"It's okay, Don. It's going to be fine," Robin soothed, squeezing his arm gently. The anxiety he could see contradicted her words. "We'll figure it out. The, um, Doctor said that you're going for surgery shortly on your arm. You think you're up to seeing your dad and Charlie before you go? They really want to see you." She smiled. "I think Colby had to go back to stop Alan from following me."

Don smiled as he nodded. He'd missed them all so much, and now that he'd seen her, he was ready for the rest of his family.

"I'll go and get them."

It took everything he had to not protest when she removed her hand and turned away. But then she was turning back and leaning in to kiss him again. "I'll be back in a minute," she promised, before kissing him one last time. She squeezed his arm and then left, glancing back with a smile as she stepped past the curtain.

A feeling that he'd never see her again started consuming Don. It was irrational, unless this was all a dream, but he couldn't control it. He was getting anxious again.

By the time Robin came back, Alan and Charlie in tow, Don had worked himself up into what was almost a full-scale panic attack. His family's presence was a relief, but it was too late to calm him down. Robin immediately pressed the buzzer for the nurse as she encouraged him to breathe, Alan and Charlie too shocked to do much of anything. The same nurse as before appeared, but it took longer for Don to bring his breathing back under control this time. He collapsed back against the pillow when he'd finally calmed down again, exhausted.

"Would you mind stepping outside for a few minutes while I look at Mr Eppes?" the nurse asked.

"Sure," Alan said for them all, after a brief hesitation. "We'll be back in a minute, Donnie."

Don shook his head rapidly, ignoring the pain it caused, feeling the irrational panic rising again.

"It's okay, Mr Eppes," the nurse reassured. "They're not going anywhere, now that we know what the problem is."

"Oh, Donnie." The hurt and love in his dad's words cut him to the core. "We're not going to leave you."

"We'll be stuck to you like glue," Charlie promised, his voice hoarse.

Robin's promise was given by her squeezing his arm.

"Buzz if you need anything," the nurse said before leaving them alone again.

Being hugged by his dad again made him feel safe, like his dad could fix everything that had gone wrong. When his dad tried to pull away, as he always did fairly quickly, knowing that Don wasn't incredibly comfortable with it, Don wouldn't let him, tightening his own hold.

"Oh, okay," Alan murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, Don."

When Don did let him go, there were a few tears on his dad's face. Chuck, Don thought when Charlie replaced his dad. I've missed you, buddy.

It felt real, Don decided, when Robin swapped with his brother and dad, half sitting on the side of the bed, shoulder touching his and her hand back on his arm.

It felt real.

Walking down the stairs to the basement, Liz noted the dead bolt on the outside of the basement door. It hadn't been hard to find the house where they suspected Don had been kept; the front door had been left open, alerting the neighbours who had called LAPD.

"Dead bolt," Nikki said.

"Yeah, like something or somebody was definitely kept in here." She wrinkled her nose, already smelling vomit, urine, faeces and death. If this is where Don was kept for the past four months...

The vomit was near a wall, and almost against the opposite wall was the body. There was a bucket in the middle of the room and the human waste smell came from it. There was also a tray with an empty plate and cup a short distance away from the body. Two cameras were high on the walls.

"Definitely a cell," Nikki commented, having noticed everything that she had.

They both approached the body. The height, weight and hair colour looked right for the owner of the house, Steven Tyson, but the face was too badly damaged to be able to make an ID. The top of the man's skull was also very obviously bashed in and Liz looked up at the wall to find the blood. The amount of damage done took a lot of rage or fear. If Don had done it, he was going to have a lot more to deal with then the issues arising out of his captivity. This sort of violence did damage to the person who inflicted it, too.

They climbed back up the stairs and Liz went to the kitchen, Nikki following.

"Knife missing," Liz said, noting the empty slot on the knife block. It was another confirmation that Don had been there. There was a computer in the bedroom, still on. Nikki moved the mouse and it came off screensaver to reveal a file folder.

"Video files," Nikki said, glancing up at her before clicking on one. There were dozens.

It was clearly the basement and Don was sitting against a wall, unmoving.

"Shit," Liz swore. They'd definitely found where he'd been held.

On the video, Don didn't move.

TBC...