A/N: hello all! i have returned :) - and this time, i've brought with me the last chapter...
as sorry as i am that it's over, i can't even begin to say how glad i am that i managed to finish the darn thing before i had to celebrate it's friggin one year anniversary:S
needless to say, i have decided that from now on, i'll do it the way i use to: i'll write the entire fic, or at least half of it, before i start friggin posting - that way, no matter what happens to make my life crazy busy, i'll always have a chapter ready to post :) -- on that note, i'll also say that i've got three more Numb3rs fics in progress, two of them solid whumping/drama/angst/adventure fics and the third being one whose plot was emailed to me by a reviewer named Cole, who will be getting most of the credit for it if i manage to do a good job :P
so anyway, without further ado, read and enjoy, and as always please don't forget to review :)
A/N2: for Curtisbrothersfan: so sorry that i missed your fifteen day deadline :P -- i hope the chapter itself makes up for the 6 extra days :D
A/N3: i actually posted this chapter a few days ago, but it keeps on beeing an idiot and randomly deciding to not show up, so i'll keep deleting and reposting until hopefully the friggin thing sticks.
Chapter 14 - When the End Comes
During the daytime, and when there wasn't shrouds of plaster dust filling the air, this hall had always seemed rather short, one of the shortest in the building in fact. However, right then, both Colby and David would have sworn in court, under oath, that this was by far the longest damn hall in all of Los Angeles. With how painstakingly little progress they'd made in catching up with the shooters, this slow-going pursuit seemed more than a little pointless; both felt as though they would've been more useful back with Megan, or even going back down to the main floor to wait for and direct the back-up that was due to arrive any minute now. However, every lesson on procedure and priority that had been driven into their skulls from day one of FBI training told them that it was their job and obligation to go after and secure the bad guys, preferably without having to wound or kill them.
'Shooting these jokers is starting to sound like a damn fine idea,' Colby grumbled in his head as he took another turn at running past David to the next doorway. He'd already had more than his share of close calls, feeling the breeze and hearing the faint whistle of bullets speeding past right next to his head, and needless to say, he was very ready for this to be done.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem as though that was going to happen as the two agents finally caught sight of the end of the hallway, as well as the open emergency exit door, the staircase beyond it leading back down to ground level and to the parking lot. Swearing under his breath, Colby made sure David was right behind him and at the ready before stepping into the stairwell, gun out front as he quickly scanned the large landing before hearing the pounding of feet on the stairs bellow them.
As they ran down the steps after them, neither needed to mention that with the head start the gunmen had on them, they were obviously going to make it outside long before them, and if they did, that would spell almost certain defeat as chances were their car was parked close enough to the exit for them to make a speedy getaway. And if that happened, the same vicious game of cat and mouse that had been going on all these months would begin again, the murders continuing in their district until the murderers finished there and moved on to their next targets elsewhere. The Eppes, having earned a place on that long list of targets, would never be safe, would never be able to return to their lives and some semblance of normalcy and happiness... and that was something that those who knew and cared for the small family could not let happen, not when they could still do something to stop it all that very night.
This in mind, Colby and David accelerated further, skipping four and five steps at a time in an effort to gain on the perps. Just when it seemed like they might be able to catch up, the slamming open of the door leading outside was heard, followed soon after by the sounds of car doors being slammed shut. Both their hopes sank then, as they realized with mounting dread that they weren't fast enough, that these men, after all their terrible crimes and after all the pain and suffering they'd brought down upon the Eppes this past week, they were going to drive off unharmed, free to do as they pleased until there was no one left alive from that faithful day at Murbarry Place.
However, just as they heard the car's engine turn over, the distinct sound of another engine reached their ears, the sound rushing closer and closer until the deafening explosion of the sound of metal impacting on metal rushed up to greet them. Exchanging a disbelieving glance, the two continued their downward progress, guns still at the ready as they finally reached the ground floor and stepped out of the stairwell into the cool outside air. The second their feet touched the pavement, they stopped to gape openly at the scene before them, hardly believing their eyes.
"Huh..." Colby said, his steady voice bellying the shock on his face. "Can't say I saw this one coming..."
Nightmares are usually something that should happen when you're asleep, warm and safe in your bed; nightmares are things that you normally should be able to wake up from, to escape back into the waking world where you can see that the terrors you were seeing weren't actually happening, that you and your loved ones were safe, happy and alive.
Sitting there, tears streaming unabashedly down his face, Don found himself silently begging the powers that be to let him wake up from this nightmare; he wanted more than anything to return to the real world where he hadn't just watched his baby brother convulse from his body's efforts to pull in oxygen from the bag that was suffocating him, those efforts going unrewarded as seconds later his movements ceased, the white-knuckled grip he had on the pipe behind him going lax. In the seconds afterwards, an unrelenting coldness settled over him, his heart stuttering and accelerating its beats in his already battered chest to the point where it would have hurt had he been in the frame of mind to give a damn.
As it were, the only pain his mind allowed him to register was the kind born of the horror he was faced with now as he stared with wide, disbelieving eyes at the deathly still body of his little brother, spurred on by the much too vivid memory of his promise that nothing more would happen to them and the way Charlie had looked at him when he'd made it, that look on his face that said for him without words that he trusted Don above all else. After all, Don was his big brother, ever his protector, the one who knew what to do, what to say, the one who never made a promise he didn't know he could keep... until now. This time, he had made the promise, one that by all means he should have been able to keep... one that was beyond a shadow of a doubt the most important promise he'd ever made and ever could make... and he had failed to keep it, had failed his brother... and now his brother was dead.
"No..." he whispered, his voice barely audible above the continuous gunshots out in the hall. Without warning, a myriad of images flashed through his mind: the look on their father's face when he'd be forced to tell him that he had let Charlie die... the way Alan would tearfully try to assure him at Charlie's funeral that it wasn't his fault, while his eyes would betray his instinctual resentfulness at him for allowing their already miniscule family to be cut down to two...
A low, pain-filled moan slipped past his lips as he continued to stare at the by-product of his failure, his mind filled this time with memories of their lives together, all of the times he'd been there for Charlie and all the times he hadn't, all of the times he'd compliment Charlie on a job well done and pretend not to notice just how much his words obviously meant to the younger man, all of the talks they'd shared as adults, especially after the really tough cases, and all the things he wished he'd said to him when he'd had the chance...
"No... no... no no no no no..." He was sobbing out the word as a constant mantra, pulling harder at his restraints each time the word was spoken, eyes burning and blurring relentlessly until Charlie's body became an unrecognizable outline through the bitter tears he cried.
He didn't take notice of Megan's entrance or the look of abject horror that swamped her features as she took in the sight of the brothers, the youngest obviously dead with the airless bag over his head, the oldest dangerously close to a complete and violent breakdown as he continued to sob out the one word hysterically, pulling and straining forward, trying in vain to reach the motionless form that was curled up into a ball up against the radiator. She was still trying to choke back her emotions as she darted over to the desk Don was handcuffed to, taking a moment to scan the desk's surface where she found and snatched up the keys to the cuffs, eyes misting against her will all the while.
Only when she dropped down next to him, about to uncuff him, did he realize she was there and he fixed her with a look of such complete despair and heartbreak that it took her breath away and left her frozen in place, unable to look away from his eyes, so expressive at that moment that they reminded her undeniably of Charlie's.
"Megan... get these the hell off me... I need to help Charlie... please... he... he can't breathe..." Ignoring the sound of her heart shattering, Megan bit her lip and tearfully nodded as she quickly unlocked the cuff closest to her. The second the cuff was open, Don shot over to Charlie's side, followed closely by Megan who undid Charlie's cuffs with shaking hands, helping Don to uncurl his body and lay him gently on his back before ignoring the duck tape and simply tearing through the bag over his head.
It was more than she could take, gazing down at the youngest brother's lax, ghostly white features, his lips tinged blue and parted slightly from when he'd taken his final breath, and she could feel moisture making tracks down her face to drip onto his. She lifted a hand to place on Don's shoulder in comfort, but the frantic man, after failing to find a pulse, had moved around and positioned himself on his knees next to Charlie's chest, one hand over the other as he bent over him and began powerful compressions in the center, just under his ribcage. Deciding to humor him, and almost daring to believe for herself that they could still save him, Megan swiped away her tears and knelt next to Charlie's head, using the index finger and thumb of one hand to pinch his nose shut while she periodically leaned down and forced a breath of air into his lungs after each set of five compressions. The longer this process went on however, the more her optimism began to disappear, and she forced herself to continue aiding in CPR while she waited for Don to accept the terrible fact that nothing more could be done, bracing herself for the reaction that would come when he did.
"Come on Charlie, you can do it - fight for me... Goddamnit... you can do this - don't give up on me now... "
His choked mutterings yeilded no response but he was beyond caring. Don didn't feel the ache that was rapidly traveling up through his arms and into his shoulders as he continued his compressions, his eyes now squeezed shut, even though the image of his brother's lifeless body was already burned into his mind's eye. He forced himself however to ignore the persistent wail that was echoing through his mind, telling him that it didn't matter what he did, that Charlie was dead, and he was never coming back.
One... two... three... four... five... Breathe...
It came down to the fact that there was no way he could bring himself to stop, to admit to himself that it was a done deal and that what he was doing now was too little, too late - he very simply refused to accept that Charlie would never smile or laugh again, that his eyes would never light up again when he figured out the answer to a tough problem he'd been working on, that he would never again be there waiting for him when he walked into his childhood home after a stressful day at work, wouldn't be there to distract him from his darkest thoughts with quirky analogies and a contagious carefree air radiating off of him.
One... two... three... four... five... Breathe...
He couldn't be gone... he just couldn't - he'd just barely turned thirty... he hadn't even gotten around to getting married, having children, solving P vs. NP... there was too many important things left for him to do; he couldn't die... he wasn't allowed to die - it was far too soon for such a brilliant mind, such a unique person to simply be snuffed out like this.
One... two... three... four... five... Breathe...
"Don..." He blatantly ignored her and the sorrow in her voice.
One... two... three... four... five...
"Don... stop." His teeth grinded together, but he refused to stop long enough to glare at her.
"No."
One... two... three...
She'd reached over with both hands to seize his, pulling them up and slightly away from Charlie's still motionless chest and succeeding momentarily in bringing his efforts to a halt and drawing his blindly determined gaze. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, slowly shaking her head.
"He's... he's gone, Don. Stop." Her voice was pleading, and for a second it looked as though he might actually listen as his shoulders slumped a little, some of the tension leaving them. His defeat was short-lived, however, as a second later he tore his hands out of her grasp and straightened up again, repositioning himself, hands starting up compressions once more.
"There's no way in hell I'm giving up on him that easily Megan," he snapped, pushing down with even more fervor, breathing heavily at the exertion being put on his still healing body. "Now are you going to help me, or not?"
With a resigned sigh she moved back over to Charlie's face trying her best to ignore the hopelessness of the situation as she continued to force air into his body. No prayer in existence could have covered just how desperately she was hoping Charlie would come through this, as much for Don's sake as his own.
He threw himself into his efforts, pushing down for all he was worth for almost two full extra minutes before the ache in his arms became too much for him to ignore, and he gradually slowed down, though still refusing to stop until at last his hopes began to drain out of him, sapping his energy to the point where he had no other choice but to stop. With a strangled cry he sat back, wrapping his arms around himself protectively as wave upon wave of sorrow crashed down over him, smothering him, and he couldn't even hear Megan's tearful attempts at comfort as he squeezed his eyes shut, hunching forward in her loose embrace.
Only one thing broke through the grief, hitting him with such a force that he swore his own heart stopped beating: a cough - it was small and weak, but he was sure he'd heard it.
Quickly he pulled away from Megan, turning wide, insanely hopeful eyes to Charlie just in time to see his head loll slowly to the side his eyes scrunching as he coughed again, the cough turning into a fit as he struggled to pull air into his previously starved lungs, rolling onto his side and curling up halfway.
"Charlie," he whispered shakily. "Charlie." He found that was the only word his stunned and overjoyed mind could conjure, but it was enough. When at last the coughing subsided and he was able to suck in a full, albeit shaky breath, his eyes slowly opened and wandered up to focus on Don's tear-stained face. He swallowed carefully before trusting his voice to speak.
"Don... please tell me it's over." Don looked over at Megan for confirmation and she nodded, figuring that the newfound silence in the hall meant that the boys had caught up with their gunmen. Turning back to Charlie, he smiled, fully and genuinely.
"It's over Charlie." Returning the smile, at first cautiously, it gradually spread across his still pale features and, with enormous effort, he managed to push himself up into enough of a sitting position to latch onto Don in a hug, one which was returned whole-heartedly, Don wrapping both arms around him tight enough to hold him up, clutching him to himself as though he would never let go.
When they'd first pulled up in front of the Cal Sci math building, arriving right after a long line of cars no doubt driven by the back-up that Megan had told him about, he'd been more that a little aggravated when he'd been told to wait for them outside in his car while they joined the other tactical teams in suiting up and running inside. Even as he grudgingly returned to his vehicle, closing the door and slumping back in the driver's seat, the father side to him refused to acknowledge the logic behind him needing to stay out of the line of fire and away from the danger - as far as he was concerned, those were his boys up there, and he should be with them, plain and simple.
It didn't help at all that Alan could clearly hear the constant barrage of gunfire coming from an upper floor, no doubt Charlie's floor, and he sat there, knee bobbing up and down, fingers drumming impatiently and nervously on the steering wheel as his eyes roamed all over the outside of the building, trying to come up with something to distract himself with while he waited. As the minutes ticked by, he found his impatience growing to the point where he was ready to ignore the possibilities of catching a bullet, just charging in there and ending this thing himself.
"What in the world could possibly be taking so long?" he wondered out loud to himself, chewing absently on his thumbnail as he continued staring out his windshield at the side of the building where he'd been forced to park almost a hundred feet away. 'Just as a precaution' they'd said, and had run off too quickly for him to be able to come up with a viable excuse to get a little closer, leaving him silently fuming. After all, focusing on being angry was a much better idea than sitting there and contemplating just how serious the situation was, thinking about just how bad off his sons might be at that very moment and wondering just what they were going through while he was just sitting there, unable to do anything to stop it.
He blinked and noticed that his hands had wrapped themselves so tightly around the wheel that his fingers had gone numb, and forced himself to relax his grip, taking deep, calming breaths.
"Easy Alan," he whispered, trying to placate himself. "No use in getting worked up about it - just sit tight, and it'll be over before you know it, and you can drag those boys home and fuss all you like. Just stay c-"
With his window open, the loud bang coming from the side of the building in front of him startled him, making him cut himself off and focus on the door that had been launched open, watching numbly as two masked men toting guns darted outside, sprinting over to a car that had been parked close by, the driver's side door facing Alan's position. It took hardly more than a second for his mind to register that these were the men behind all the suffering and grief his sons had endured along with the dozens of other families that had been destroyed, that these men had killed so many and, if allowed to escape, would no doubt kill again... it took less than a second more for him to realize that his engine was still running.
Later on, he would admit that his plan hadn't been the most well thought through, but right then, it was the only option available to him, and one that he had no intention of ignoring.
Without further thought, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped across the space separating them, remembering halfway there to put on his seatbelt. He had just barely clicked it in place and braced himself for impact before the front of his car connected solidly with the driver's door in a bone-rattling crunch, and his upper body flew forward only to be bounced back as the airbag exploded in his face. The force behind it left him stunned even after he managed to pull himself back into a sitting position, doing his best to breathe normally despite the massive overload of adrenalin that had so quickly rushed through his system. After a moment of just sitting there, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't come up with a second part to his plan, wherein he somehow dealt with the consequences of slamming into a mass murderer's car.
With a small gasp, his eyes shot back open and he would have attempted to stumble out of his car had a hand not reached through his still open window to grip his shoulder, making him jerk back in surprise.
"It's okay Mr. Eppes, it's me - Colby." Sagging in relief and letting his eyes close for another brief moment, he sat back in his seat and returned to the act of trying to calm down, responding only when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake.
"Colby... how many times am I going to have to tell you people to call me Alan?" A short laugh came from the man outside his door, and he reopened his eyes, turning his head to study the lingering look of shock on his face. "Is everything all right?" Incredulousness mixed in with his expression and he laughed again, shaking his head at him.
"Yeah, thanks to you, it looks like everything's just fine. Are you all right? Are you hurting anywhere?" He thought about that for a moment, focusing all his efforts on pinpointing any pain, then shaking his head.
"I don't think so - I mean, aside from a sore face and neck, that is. I think credit for that can go to the initial hit, and the airbag that followed it." Colby nodded.
"Alright. I'm going to get you to stay still, just as a precaution - I called in a few ambulances, and they should be here pretty soon, so just sit tight until they can get here to check you out." Nodding in acknowledgement, Alan turned back to look out his windshield only to find that the spider webbing pattern of cracks prevented him from actually being able to see anything through it.
"What about them?"
"The guys whose car you hit?" He could hear the smile in Colby's voice and when he looked back, sure enough he bore a smirk. "David's got them covered. They're both in one piece - the driver's definitely going to need some patching up though." Alan swallowed hard at that, and the agent was quick to reassure him. "He's not too bad off, considering how hard it looks like you hit them. He'll definitely live, just long enough for him and his partner to go in for a lethal injection at least - it's about damn time, too."
Alan smiled grimly at that; he could not agree more.
-----
True to Colby's word, it wasn't long before ambulance sirens could be heard pulling onto the campus street, both vehicles coming to a stop near their position within a matter of minutes. After a quick examination, Alan was escorted from his car to the bumper of the nearest ambulance where he was given a more thorough once-over, watching all the while with morbid curiosity as Colby got into his ruined car and backed it up enough that the other set of paramedics could get to the unconscious driver in the other car. It still amazed him as much as it amazed Colby and David that he had actually done what he'd done and as he stared long and hard at the folded and crumpled front of his car, he was even more amazed that he hadn't injured himself much more than he had.
Small mercies after a week of crap, he thought to himself with a small, satisfied smile. He was more than happy to sacrifice his car for the greater good - that did not mean, however, that he was going to refuse David's offer of the FBI paying for the repairs; he was noble, but he wasn't stupid.
He let his gaze wander away from the scene he'd created and back over to the math building, wondering yet again what was taking so long in there. After all, if he just dealt with both attackers, who was left to be keeping his sons from leaving? Had there been more up there than just two? Was there still a chance that this wasn't over yet?
He'd hardly finished the thought when his eyes fell on the two people that had just stepped out of the still open emergency exit, carrying something between them. His breath caught in his throat as they came close enough for the streetlights to illuminate their faces, revealing the two people to be Don and Megan, working together to carry Charlie between them, whose eyes were closed, head resting limply on Don's shoulder. All but shoving the medic examining him out of the way, he rushed over to the trio as quickly as his somewhat unsteady feet could carry him.
"Don!" When his son looked towards him in response to his name being called, Alan felt his insides clench at the fresh tear tracks on his face, and he picked up the pace, reaching the group a second later and securing a grip on Don's shoulder, looking desperately from him to Charlie's unnervingly pale face. As though reading his mind, he offered a relaxed smile.
"It's okay Dad, we're okay." Confused, Alan looked back to his youngest who still hadn't opened his eyes.
"Then why...?" Don flinched slightly, something that didn't go unnoticed.
"He went to get up and... and I guess it was too fast after... what happened, and he kind of... passed out." His oldest's all too vague explanation earned the classic hands-on-the-hips and a raised brow.
"Care to elaborate on that?" Instead of answering, Don seemed to be scrutinizing his appearance.
"I'll make you a deal: I'll tell you every detail about what happened to us if you tell me why it is that half your face is bruised up..." He cast a glance sideways at the demolished front of their father's car, and the crushed in side of the car where paramedics were still attending to their Jersey Cop Killers. "...and how that happened."
"Fine," he said, huffing a little as he led the way back to the ambulance he'd been sitting in. "As long as you and your brother get yourselves properly checked out, tonight." Don opened his mouth to object, but all conversation came to a halt when they reached the ambulance and a quiet voice spoke up between them.
"Hey Dad." His whispered words managed to make it to Alan over the din surrounding them and he turned to meet Charlie's bleary gaze, watching as his youngest's lips turned downward in a slight frown. "You all right?" He smiled down at him, brushing a few stray curls out of his face.
"I'm fine Charlie - I do believe the topic of choice is whether or not you are." It was then that he noticed the band of duck tape wrapped around his throat, shreds of a torn plastic bag still hanging from it, and his eyes wandered over Don's and Charlie's wrists to find them both with matching dark ring bruises around them. I'm almost afraid to ask.
"I'm good - just got up too fast, or something," Charlie mumbled, some color finally returning to his cheeks in the form of a blush. At this, Don smirked.
"No worries Chuck, we'll get you fixed up in no time," he said softly as he and Megan carefully deposited him on the stretcher that the paramedics had brought out. For once, Charlie had no objections to the nickname, simply nodded tiredly and allowed himself to be poked and prodded, wanting nothing more than to go home.
By the time they were finally driving down their street with Colby in his car, all three Eppes men having agreed that none were in the condition to be driving themselves, Charlie was fast asleep up against the window beside him and Don wasn't far behind on his window where he'd been staring blankly out at the passing traffic all the way back from Cal Sci. Sitting up front after deciding that his sons could use the space to relax, Alan turned around in his seat and smiled at the image of the two of them together like that. However, when he remembered the story that Don had told him of their brief period as hostages, and of how Charlie had died of suffocation right in front of him and had had to be resuscitated by himself and Megan, the smile fell from his face and he was reminded none-too gently that their survival had come with a price, and it was one that would take a long while yet for them to finish paying.
"Alan, we're here." Colby's voice startled him back to the present and he blinked, looking out the windshield at the house that he'd left hardly three hours earlier, almost unable to believe just how much had happened since then, especially since earlier that afternoon. Don had yet to tell him how it was that Charlie had ended up at Cal Sci by himself and open to an attack, but judging by the sudden silence and the way he'd averted his gaze to the ground when he'd tried to ask him while he was being looked after, Alan figured he would probably never get a straight answer to that one.
With a long sigh, Alan followed Colby's example of climbing out of the vehicle, closing his door before moving back to Charlie's and rapping lightly on the glass with his knuckles. He jerked upright in response, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision as Alan opened his door and offered his hand to help him up and out. Smiling wearily in thanks, he accepted the hand up with his own uninjured one, allowing Alan another clear look at the nasty looking bruise encompassing his wrist, put there from his struggles against handcuffs. Luckily, the other wrist had been left in its brace and had avoided further damage, but the one that hadn't been so lucky looked as though it had the potential to ache mightily by the next morning.
"When we get inside, maybe you should get some ice on that," he said, giving the bruise a pointed look. Charlie followed his gaze and swallowed hard, looking quickly away to avoid thinking about just how that bruise got there.
"Good idea," he said and walked next to Alan up to the door, Colby and Don following closely behind.
Once inside, Alan instructed Charlie to get settled on his bed-couch in the living room while he went to get him some ice and something to drink, then he retreated into the kitchen where Don and Colby had settled tiredly on the stools next to the counter, each silent and staring determinedly at the countertop, no doubt replaying the night's events and wondering how it was that things had spun so out of control to begin with. Eyeing the pair for a moment, Alan moved over to open the freezer.
"Coffee anyone?" Both grunted a 'yes', and so he removed the beans and closed the freezer door again, busying himself with the act of preparing it and retrieving three mugs from the cupboards for the three of them, and a bottle of water from the fridge for Charlie. It was Colby who finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the tension in a very Don-like manner.
"Well, David and Megan went back to the office to keep on doing the background checks on the family members of the deceased hostages from Murbarry Place, but so far it's looking like the two guys that were at Cal Sci were the last of 'em; they were the only two guys David and I had red-flagged before, and we'd actually gotten through the bulk of the list."
"Did you find out where these guys were operating from?" Don asked as he sipped slowly at the steaming cup that had been placed in front of him.
"The crime scene techs found a receipt for the down-payment on a motel room for the month - your bodyguards, York, Wyatt, Randall and Powel were heading the raid on the room. As far as I know, they didn't find anyone else in there, and there was no evidence to support there being more than three perps."
"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that," Alan commented as he took a sip from his own mug before heading back to the freezer to grab the ice pack for Charlie's wrist. "I'll sleep a lot better tonight knowing that there's no danger of another attempt on all our lives." Colby looked up at him seriously.
"All the same, I've called in a favor to make sure that a couple of our guys will be outside for the next few days, just to be safe."
"That's good news," Don said with an appreciative nod. He took one last gulp from his cup before standing and heading for the door that led back out into the dinning room. "I'm gonna go let Charlie know." Despite his exhaustion, he managed to leave the room in just three strides, somewhat excited at the prospect of being able to give his brother some good news at last.
"I'll come with you," came his father's voice, and a second later he was joined by Alan who was carrying the water and ice, and by Colby who was headed for the front door.
"I'm going to go give the other two a hand. Even if they already finished the background checks, there's gonna be a mountain of paperwork after all this," he said, and Don frowned slightly in sympathy.
"Don't worry - I'll come in tomorrow to help you guys out." Even before Alan could protest to Don working in his condition, Colby shook his head firmly.
"No way, Eppes. You were on medical leave before, and now you're on medical and stress leave after tonight's little encounter, so even if you somehow managed to slip past your dad here, lobby security at the office will be instructed to not let you go up." He said the last part with a satisfied grin and was out the door and headed back to his car before Don could put together a descent objection.
More than a little indignant that he was being subjected to limitations like some sort of invalid, and was in for another round of babysitting by his father, Don turned away from the sound of Colby's car backing out of the drive and headed into the living room, ready to spill what they'd learned to Charlie only to be greeted by the sight of an empty couch. Instinctually both of their stomachs did little flips before they could remind themselves that the week's trials and dangers had ended, and the fact that the youngest Eppes wasn't here simply meant that he'd gone to another part of the house, most likely on the first floor considering his trepidation involving the second floor.
Walking together into the hallway, they would have continued on right past the stairs leading up had they not simultaneously spotted the light coming from the next floor, from one room in particular. They exchanged a surprised glance, and with no shortage of apprehension, the two climbed the steps and right away spotted Charlie standing motionless in the beam of light coming through the doorway to his bedroom, face blank and impassive, eyes staring unblinkingly at something inside. A soft pat on his arm drew his gaze back to meet their father's, one that radiated understanding of a situation that clearly needed to be discussed first between brothers before moving to include him as well.
"I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up," he said, handing Don the water bottle and ice pack he still held. "Call if you need me."
And with that he turned and went back downstairs, leaving Don to take a deep, hopefully confidence-inducing breath before walking down the hall, coming to a stop beside his younger brother. Once there, he realized it was what he had figured it would be: the thing he was staring so intently at was the space on his floor that had, a few days earlier, housed the body of the man he'd accidentally killed in his fight to stay alive. It struck him as sadly ironic how Charlie was so deeply horrified with what he'd done by accident when the man he'd done it to would have intentionally done worse to him without thinking twice about it.
"I could probably stand here all night, and still not be able to take one single step into this room." The flat tone to Charlie's voice had Don worried even more than he'd been when he hadn't said anything at all, serving to solidify his feeling that it would take a lot of talking things through to get their lives back to some version of normal. He was about to open with the now well worn phrase stating that what had happened wasn't his fault when he spoke again, the newly arrived bitterness surprising him as much as his words. "After all, I've played the avoidance card just as often with smaller events. Take the shooting at your office, for example: an event that was not even targeting me directly and lasted hardly a minute, and I avoided that place like the plague for days afterwards." He shook his head, not looking away from that spot. "I gotta say Don, if bravery is genetic, it looks like you inherited all of it long before I came around."
"Hey," he said, crossing his arms carefully across his middle and waiting until Charlie looked at him before continuing. "I'm not as brave you'd think." His declaration earned him a disbelieving snort. "No, seriously, hear me out: what you see as me being brave is just me with my game-face on - it's an attitude that's taken years to perfect, and in the beginning, it took so much out of me to turn it on and off depending on whether I was on the job or at home that eventually I just didn't bother turning it off any more. So basically every time I get up in the morning, that game-face is the first thing I put on, and whenever I go to sleep, it's the last thing to come off. What I'm trying to say is that I get scared just like you Charlie... but it's become my job to hide it, and to not let myself stay away from places or things that scare me, no matter how much I want to..." He trailed off and he stood there chewing nervously on his lip, uncertain as to whether or not that had come out as clear as he'd needed it to.
For a long moment, Charlie simply stared at him, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Then, much to Don's relief, a small, shy smile worked it's way across his face which had thankfully regained much of it's color by then.
"Really?" The question was quiet, unsure, that thoughtful look having turned into one that clearly showed just how badly he needed to not be alone in what he was feeling. Don returned the smile.
"Really," he said softly, and watched happily as Charlie's tense posture relaxed a little and he didn't return to staring at the spot that had been thoroughly scrubbed free of any and all physical evidence of Friday's events.
When the younger man tried unsuccessfully to hide a yawn behind his wrist brace, the agent took the opportunity to reach in and flick off the light, after which he steered Charlie into his old room down the hall.
"Here, you can have my bed for the night - small steps, Charlie," he reminded when he saw him glance back solemnly at his own bedroom. "Just by coming up here in the first place, you've already proven you can get past this, you just need to give yourself time." His quiet reassurance was rewarded with another smile before his baby brother collapsed, gently of course, onto the unmade bed, not caring that he was still in his jeans as he pulled the blankets tight around himself.
"Where..." Another yawn, this one longer. "Where are you gonna sleep?"
"I'll take the floor to your right," he said, turning off the overhead light and depositing the ice and water on the dresser before spreading his spare blanket on the floor next to the bed and snagging one of his pillows. A small grunt was the only indication of pain he gave as he lay down, doing his best not to shift around too much. After all, his ribs had had to be re-set for the third time in less than a week, so it stood to reason they'd be a little on the sensitive side.
"You sure you're okay down there?" Charlie's voice was so faint by then that Don could tell he was already half-asleep, and his smile broadened a little.
"Yeah, I'm sure - go to sleep, we'll talk more in the morning."
A contented sigh floated down from amidst all the blankets and pillows, followed by such a long stretch of silence that Don thought he'd finally fallen asleep. Then, just as he was starting to drift off as well, a quiet but undeniably lucid voice brought him back awake.
"Love you Don." A slight shiver went down his spine as those words brought him back to those last agonizing minutes in Charlie's office, but he pushed it aside without hesitation - it was over now. For all intents and purposes, he had 'woken from the nightmare and returned to the real world' - his family was safe, as happy as they could be considering, and alive. Right at that moment, he had everything he could ever want.
With a light heart, he wrapped himself in his blanket, and closed his eyes, whispering his response through the comfortable silence.
"Love you too Buddy."
The End