Found
Title: Found
Collection: The Long and Short of It
Rating: eT
Characters: Charlie, Don, OFC
Warnings: language, shameless ogling by an OFC, angst like whoas, brotherly schmoop out the wahoo, excessively hot men being hot, PWP without the pr0n (Plot What Plot?)
Genres: Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst, Gen, Pr0nless PWP (Plot? What Plot?)
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 1215
Disclaimer: See Master Post.
Notes: See Master Post.
Summary: Don didn't even know anything was lost.
"Hi, Special Agent Don Eppes." I looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of an ID wallet being flashed at me, then he was moving on, looking around as he spoke. "I was told you had someone here in your ER that I would want to see?"
"Name of the- Oh wait, you're the FBI guy?"
He smiled and my heart stopped for just a second as I was taken back to my wasted youth spent sighing over David Duchovny and my brief desire to join the Bureau. Who knew FBI agents actually came that good looking in reality?
"I am," he said with a nod.
I let my eyes skim over what I could see of him behind the counter and had to swallow a fresh sigh for the new government-issued hottie for my relationship-starved brain to fantasize over.
Diedra, my fellow check-in desk jockey, elbowed me and coughed, jolting me back to reality.
"Sorry, uh," I smiled weakly. "It's been a long night."
He flashed another hint of that smile and I had to grip the desk to keep from sitting abruptly in my chair.
"Uh, right. The, uh, John Doe." I grabbed the chart and rounded the desk, waving for him to follow. "We actually weren't the ones who flagged him. The LAPD officer who brought him in was the one who suggested we call you."
Special Agent Eppes' eyebrow rose and my heart skipped a beat in my chest. If I wasn't a registered nurse, I'd probably make an appointment with my cardiologist because too many more of those and I'd be thinking I was having a heart attack.
"What was the officer's name?"
"Lieutenant . . . um . . ." I had to check the chart because my brain wasn't really focused on some older cop's name right then. "Gary Walker."
Eppes frowned. "Huh. Wonder why he thought this was something I'd want to know about."
I shrugged. "He was called away on another problem and didn't say. Just said to contact you and tell you to come down. Mentioned you by name though."
"Yeah, that's what Control said." He shrugged too, and I had to look at the file again or risk tripping over my own feet. He was dressed in a suit, but it was obviously the end of his day because the jacket was gone and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, baring his forearms.
The guy had some really nice forearms, you know? He was obviously in excellent shape-not surprising considering his job-but it made me curious as to what the rest of him looked like.
Purely in a professional sense, of course. Down, girl.
"So what brought this John Doe to your domain?" he asked, smiling. I couldn't see it, but I could hear it and even that was enough to give me shivers.
Damn. He ought to come with a warning label.
"Uhhh, Lieutenant Walker said he was found over on the east side." I checked the triage sheet and whistled. "Wow. Guy's lucky to be alive. Multiple abrasions, severe contusions all over his body, three lacerations totaling seventeen stitches, and . . . looks like a concussion. MRI came back clean though, so that's good. He'll be in a helluva lot of pain for the next little while, but he'll survive. He's getting a couple of pints of blood and our Saturday-night special. That's a cocktail of antibiotics, vitamins, and general immune system boosters," I explained.
He nodded, his whole attention focused on me and I almost swallowed my tongue.
I looked away and realized we were at the cubicle. "Here we are," I said and pulled back the curtain to reveal our mystery patient as I walked in.
It took me another two steps to realize I was alone. I stopped and looked back to see Eppes had gone sheet white and looked about to faint.
A glance at the patient showed he was still in the same condition as the last glimpse I'd gotten. Not pretty, but stable. You'd think an FBI Agent would have a stronger stomach.
Unless . . .
"Do you know-" I started to ask.
A strangled sound and a rush of expelled air-like someone had just been punched-drew my attention back to Eppes. He looked even worse than before, if that was possible without him actually being injured.
Oh.
Oh damn.
From the level of shock and devastation on his face I could only assume that this guy was either a relative or lover. Based on similarity of their appearances, I'd say the former. Age differences said probably a younger brother.
I hurried to the next cubicle that was empty and grabbed the chair that had been left behind, dragging it back to Agent Eppes and pushing him down to sit before he passed out on me.
He really did look like he was about to check out completely on me-if he hadn't already.
"Agent Eppes?" I called his name a few times without response and was about to go get a cart to start treating him for shock when he blinked and jerked, then looked at me.
"What?" he said dazedly.
I'm a shame to my profession, I know, but damn if he wasn't even more sexy when he was all exposed and vulnerable like that.
Hey, I'm a healthy red-blooded female. So sue me.
"He's going to be okay," I said gently. "I know it looks bad, but it really is mostly superficial. There were some concerns when he arrived, but he's responding well to all his treatments and, except for maybe the stitches, I doubt he'll have any lingering reminders of this night."
He nodded, but his eyes were still a little vacant, and I knew I'd have to repeat that a few more times before it sank in.
It would help when his brother woke up too.
"Would you like me to go find his doctor so you can get a full explanation of what's going on and ask any questions you have?"
He swallowed and nodded again, his eyes going back to his brother.
"What's his name?" I asked, both for the chart and because I was genuinely curious.
"Charlie," he said softly, leaning forward to where he could reach out and touch the still arm on the bed. "His name's-" He swallowed again, blinking rapidly, and pulled back before he made actual contact. "His name's Charlie."
"You can touch him," I said. "He's pretty out of it right now and he's got enough painkillers in him to make an elephant feel good anyway. Besides, I think knowing he's not alone would help his recovery."
He glanced at me, gratitude briefly shining through, then reached forward again, this time laying his hand on the purpled skin of Charlie's arm.
"I'll go get his doctor," I said and excused myself.
The last thing I heard was a soft, "Hey, Buddy, I'm here. I don't know what the hell you were doing in East LA at ten o'clock at night, or why you couldn't call me before you got the crap beat out of you, but it's okay. I'm here now."
I glanced back as I shut the curtain and saw the agent's other hand was resting on the dark curls of his brother's head, his thumb stroking over the surprisingly unblemished skin of his forehead.
"Everything's gonna be okay, Charlie. I'm here."