A/N: Ah, the joyous time of year known as Finals Week! Thankfully, I only have to endure one more of these for a very long time. As promised, Chapter 3 is the end of this one. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Have a wonderful holiday season!
When morning rolled around, Alan was upset with Charlie for not waking him, but contented himself with fixing breakfast, planning to discuss it later with his youngest. Charlie shook Don awake. The agent groaned, trying to resist the return to consciousness. Charlie persisted. Finally, Don opened his eyes and looked around, obviously confused. Alan walked in before Don had a chance to say anything.
"Coffee, boys?"
Don started to assent, but Charlie cut him off. "I'll take coffee, but Don needs water."
The agent glared at his younger brother. "What gives you the right to decide what I have to drink?"
Charlie glared back, still furious. "I stayed up all night watching you to make sure you didn't die. And you are dehydrated as hell. I get coffee, you get water."
"Why am I even at your house?" Don finally asked.
"We'll talk about it later," Charlie answered gruffly. He knew that Lieutenant Walker was going to give Don a pretty stern dressing down, and he didn't want to steal any of the cop's thunder. Anyway, since Don's SUV was still presumably at the office or the bar, Charlie would have to drive his older brother to the police station and to the FBI office. There would be plenty of time for talking in the car.
Don shrugged and stood up to head toward the dining room. Standing up quickly didn't turn out to be the best move. Don quickly clutched his forehead in his hands, trying futilely to fight the splitting headache. "Yeah, maybe water's best," he mumbled, conceding the point to his younger brother. As he shuffled to the table, Don began to wonder why he was so sore all over.
Alan placed a plate of food in front of each of his sons as Don eased himself into his chair. No sudden movements today, he decided. As he sat, smelling and looking at his food, Don's stomach turned over. Maybe he didn't really want to eat, either. He settled for sipping the glass of water in front of him.
Charlie noticed his brother's lack of appetite. "Don, you have to eat," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Don had actually never heard his brother this stern before, and it surprised him. He'd seen his brother frustrated, but never angry. This definitely sounded like Charlie was angry.
"Don!" Charlie's voice was sharp. The agent grimaced from the pain in his head. "Eat!"
If only to prevent Charlie from using that voice again, Don picked up his fork and slowly, mechanically, put food in his mouth. He found that he was chewing to the same rhythm that his head was pounding. After the first mouthful went down, and stayed down, Don grew a bit more confident. Apparently satisfied, Charlie didn't say anything else.
Alan regarded his two sons as they all ate their breakfast. Don was understandably silent. The hang-over must be bad. Charlie, on the other hand, was silently brooding. Alan didn't quite understand. Sure, Alan had been angry and surprised at Don's behavior the night before. But it was over now. Don had made the stupid decision, and now he was paying the consequences for it. There was really no reason to continue to be angry. Surely he would learn his lesson – even someone with as thick a skull as Don couldn't ignore a hangover.
When Don had cleaned his plate, Charlie told him to get ready for work. Without protesting, Don got up from the table and headed up to the bathroom as smoothly as he could. He didn't like this new, irritable, bossy Charlie, but the younger man had said they would talk later. And at the moment, Don felt like he was swimming in alcohol. Everything he tasted or smelled was reminiscent of the beer he'd been drinking last night. The idea of a hot shower and brushing his teeth with lots of toothpaste sounded great.
A few minutes later, Don clenched his jaw and headed back downstairs. The jarring thud every time he lowered himself to the next step resounded through his skull and gut. This was not going to be a good morning. Hopefully none of their new cases would require much fieldwork until tomorrow.
The drive away from their house was tense. Charlie's knuckles were white from his death-grip on the steering wheel. Don wanted his happy, talkative brother back. "What's going on, buddy?" he asked softly as they pulled out of the neighborhood.
Charlie shot back a look that Don couldn't interpret. "I don't want to talk about it yet," he responded ominously. Don arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything else.
The silence in the car was awkward, to say the least. Finally, Don spoke up again. "Uhhh, Charlie, I don't know if you realize it, but this isn't the way to my office."
Charlie gave him a confused glance, but it quickly faded back to the sullen face he'd been wearing all morning. "We have to make a detour first," he said at last, just as they were pulling up to the police station. "You need to go up to see Lieutenant Walker. He's expecting you. Fourth floor, third door on the left. He said to have a seat in his office if he isn't there when you get there."
Don's face quickly showed confusion. He wanted to ask what Charlie was talking about, or why Lt Walker wanted to see him, but he figured that he wouldn't get any better response than he'd been getting all morning. Charlie put the car in park and shut off the ignition, giving Don a pointed look that he was supposed to get out now.
Pulling the door handle, Don slowly got out of the car. "You're waiting for me?" he asked tentatively, hoping his brother wasn't planning on just leaving him here. Charlie nodded curtly, so Don shut the door and made his way, slowly, into the police station.
Charlie watched his brother go with a sense of relief. He hadn't trusted himself not to blow up at Don, so he just hadn't said anything all morning. Maybe while Don was in talking to Lt Walker, Charlie would have the opportunity to relax and compose himself. Not to mention the fact that he expected Don to return to the car looking like a dog with his tail between his legs.
Don found Walker's office easily enough, although the dinging noise of the elevator had sent waves of pain through his head. Sure enough, when he got to Walker's door, it was open, but the Lieutenant wasn't there. He gingerly took a seat on one side of the desk, his back to the open door.
A couple minutes passed, and Don wondered whether he should call Walker's cell to let him know he was here. A moment later, the need was put to bed. Don flinched as the door slammed behind him, the noise setting off his headache anew. He turned to see the Lieutenant behind him. Walker said nothing as he stepped around the desk and took his seat opposing Don.
The two law enforcement officers regarded each other silently for several seconds before Don started the conversation.
"So why did you tell Charlie to bring me here?" he asked quietly, getting straight to the point, skipping any pleasantries.
Walker nodded, as if confirming his suspicion. "What do you remember about last night?" he asked, seemingly ignoring Don's question.
Don thought back, but most of the evening was hazy at best, a complete blank at worst. "Uhh," he stammered. "I remember my team finishing the case we were working, then we all took Megan's car to a bar. I know we all had a few drinks, but I can't really remember anything after that." Don was getting suspicious. Had something bad happened that he couldn't remember? Was that why Charlie was so upset this morning?
"So you don't remember leaving the bar?" Don shook his head, immediately regretting the action. "And you don't remember standing there, punching a brick wall?" Don looked down at his right hand, now understanding why his knuckles were scabbed over. "You don't remember a couple of my officers trying to get your attention? Or how you punched Officer Stephens when he grabbed your arm?" Don sharply looked back from his bloodied knuckles to the Lieutenant. "Or getting tackled to the ground by Officer Rogers?" Don shook his head again, slowly this time. That would explain why he was sore.
Walker stood up, putting his hands on his desk and leaning forward. Don resisted the instinct to lean back in his chair. "Then I suppose you have no memory of being arrested for public intoxication and assaulting one of my police officers." Walker's voice was sharper this time.
Don's eyes widened. He'd been arrested?! "But how did I wake up in my brother's house, and not in the drunk tank?" he asked softly, hoping the Lieutenant would follow suit.
No such luck. Walker's voice only got louder. "You are damn lucky, Eppes. I happened to see you and Officer Stephens before he actually booked you. I don't know why the hell you were stupid enough to get that drunk and not call a cab. But you damn well better not let it happen again." Don nodded. "Two three, Eppes. You blew a two three at seven p.m. You were lucky not to kill yourself last night. A couple more beers and you would've needed immediate medical attention." Don swallowed, eyes even wider.
Walker paused. After a couple seconds of silence, Don asked the inevitable. "So are you going to…" he trailed off, not really wanting to finish the thought process.
"Tell your boss?" Walker finished it for him. Don nodded a fraction. "Do I need to? I was hoping that realizing you'd almost been thrown in jail for a night, having absolutely no recollection of it would be a pretty good deterrent from ever doing something this stupid again." Walker's voice had risen in volume a little more, also raising the pain level in Don's head a little more.
Don wasn't sure what the appropriate response would be, so Walker continued. "I put my reputation on the line for you last night, Eppes. I've tried to show my people that I don't believe in cops being above the law. But I also don't believe in throwing away a good cop's, or in your case, agent's career because of one really, really stupid mistake." His voice had risen again, but toward the end, he had lowered it back down, much to Don's relief. "And trust me, that was a really, really stupid mistake."
Head pounding, Don couldn't focus to form very many coherent thoughts to put into words. "Thanks," he said, very simply.
"I hope I didn't throw away my reputation for nothing last night, Eppes," he stated plainly. Don understood his meaning clearly.
"I won't let it happen again," Don assured the Lieutenant. Walker nodded, apparently satisfied.
"You better not. Next time, you won't get off so easy." Don nodded solemnly. "One last thing before I let you go to work, Eppes." Don arched an eyebrow. "What in hell possessed you to get that tanked last night?"
Don regarded his hands for a few seconds before making eye contact again with the Lieutenant. "Child molester," he began simply. "We'd been trying to catch him for five weeks. There were more than a hundred kids that he hurt, most of them before we got the case. I can't get their pictures out of my head. Or their voices from the video interviews. Girls, boys, he didn't care. No-one that young should have to experience what those kids went through. Not a single one of those kids will ever be the same. All because of one perverted bastard." The agent couldn't continue for a minute. His eyes studied the floor. Finally, he looked back up. "He smiled when we caught him. Claimed he hadn't done anything wrong, even when we found two broken little boys locked up in his house. He was in charge of running camps for special needs kids, all under the age of ten. He said he loves all the children he works with. Who knows how many others he abused that we have no idea about? Cases like that… they're the hardest to deal with. I hope he rots in hell." Don shuddered, trying to cast off the memories.
Walker nodded. "Next time, call a cab," he said quietly, knowing there was nothing he could say to erase the pain.
"You've got a hell of a brother," the Lieutenant changed the subject after another few seconds of silence. "He was worried sick when I called him last night to come get you. Be sure to thank him. I imagine he's tired of waiting," Walker said by way of dismissal.
Don nodded, then stood and walked out of the police station, numb as he made his way to the car where his brother was waiting. Don opened the passenger door, slid into his seat, and buckled his seatbelt without even looking at his brother. He could feel Charlie looking at him, but silence reigned for almost a full minute. Finally, Don spoke.
"Thanks for picking me up last night. And for staying up all night to make sure I was okay," Don said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Charlie reached out and put his hand on Don's shoulder. "You had me pretty worried last night," Charlie admitted, his voice only a little louder than Don's. "And I was pretty angry. I just never imagined that I would have to take care of you, especially not because of this. Especially now that we're older. It's just that… what you did was so… stupid and irresponsible. Which is completely unlike you. You're always responsible, and you're really smart. I still don't understand what would make you do that to yourself."
At length, Don finally made eye contact with his younger brother. "I'm sorry. I'd like to tell you that I didn't want to get hammered last night, but that would be lying. Sometimes, the cases we work just… get to us. This was one of those. If you remember, I didn't even let you see the case files on this one, just the info we gave you." Charlie nodded. "I didn't want you to have those images in your head. Hell, I don't want those images in my head. If I never had to work another case like that, I'd die a happy man."
Pulling his hand away from Don's shoulder, Charlie started the car. "Next time," he began.
"I know, I know. Call a cab," Don finished with a laugh.
Charlie smiled a little. "I was going to say, call me."
Don smiled back. "Thanks."
Don thanked Charlie again for the ride as the mathematician began to pull away from the curb. Another day, another case, Don thought as he rode up the elevator. His head was still pounding, a pain sensation heightened by every ding of the elevator as it stopped on each floor. Finally, it arrived at the bullpen, and Don stepped out, extremely glad to get away from the dings.
As he entered the bullpen, Don glanced over the rest of his team. Despite the incredible pain pulsing through his head, he smiled. Even if the rest of his team hadn't almost gotten arrested, they'd all had almost as much to drink as he had, so they were all experiencing the same miserable hang-over. "Reeves," he greeted as he approached his cubicle. "You look like hell this morning."
"Right back at ya, boss," she returned the gibe. "What happened to you last night?" she asked, noticing his bloody knuckles and scraped chin from where he'd been tackled.
"Long story, Reeves," he replied. "And one not fully appreciated unless under the influence."
Megan laughed and shook her head, immediately regretting the motion.
Yes, it was going to be a long day.