Title: Warning

Author: Erika (aka Sassafrass86)

Summary: A particularly gruesome case calls for Charlie's helps in finding the killer, but Don is wary of his younger brother's involvement. (T for brief mentions of rape, rating may go up in later chapters; no graphic descriptions) Please R/R. AU.

Spoilers: Squint and miss it from 1x09 Sniper Zero

Disclaimer: The characters of Jamie Huntington and Geoffrey Pearce are mine, but sadly, I own no rights to Numb3rs, Rob Morrow, or David Krumholtz. Nor do I own Charlie, Don, Terry, etc. The only character I can take credit for right now is Geoffrey Pearce, and that is not exactly a thrilling prospect. All rights belong to CBS and the Ridley brothers. But really, can't I have David just for one day? He's just spectacular.

Author's Note: This fic was posted last year, and I became very unhappy with it. However, due to the overwhelming number of reviews I've received, all of them positive, I've decided to continue with it. Thank you all so much for this response, I was very shocked that I received 49 reviews for one chapter that I didn't even feel satisfied with. I have changed things around in the story, so even if you've read the first chapter before, you may want to read it again to figure out what the changes are. Thank you so much for reading, everyone, I love you all!

Special Thanks to: GSister for helping calculate some particulars, regarding numbers and story.

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FBI Agent Don Eppes sat back in his desk chair, groaning in frustration at his latest case, featuring a serial rapist-turned-murderer. His partner, Terry Lake, took notice of his actions and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don, you've been studying those files for almost 24 hours straight," she said with sympathy. "Go home for a little while, get some sleep."

Don shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked up at his partner. "We've got to get this guy, Terry."

"I know. We will," she assured him. She hesitated before approaching her next subject. "Listen, Don..." She trailed off, as if unsure how to continue her thought.

Don raised an eyebrow at Terry's elusiveness. "What?"

"Charlie."

Don shook his head again, this time much more forcefully. "No."

"Don--"

"No!" Don said again, pushing his chair away from his desk. "Absolutely not, Terry."

"Don, listen! Just listen, okay? Charlie can easily come up with an equation with all the variables we have on this case so far, you know that."

"This case is too dangerous."

Terry rolled her eyes. "As if all our cases aren't? He almost got shot when we dealt with the sniper."

Don glared at her, and she stared right back, her eyes fierce and challenging. Don groaned, letting his head fall back. "You know this one's different." He looked back up at Terry. "Charlie's just a kid, I don't want him on this."

"He's a grown man," Terry argued. "He can make his own decisions."

"He still lives with our father," Don challenged.

"I lived with my parents until I was twenty-six," Terry shot back. "And it's his house now, isn't it?"

Don opened his mouth to argue, but paused. "You lived with your parents until you were twenty-six?"

"Don't change the subject," Terry replied with a small smirk. "Why won't you even consider asking Charlie if he wants to do this?"

Don sighed. "He's my little brother. I don't want him... This isn't his responsibility, it's mine."

"You can't protect him from everything, Don," Terry said quietly, though with understanding. "He's already seen a lot of it."

"Exactly," Don answered. "But what I can protect him from, I will."

"I know how you feel about this case, but I am positive that Charlie could be a big help to us. Can't you just ask him?"

"Why are you pulling so hard for Charlie to do this? Can't we just find someone else?"

Terry crossed her arms. "Oh, sure, Don, let's get someone else. Do you happen to know any of our other colleagues who happen to have a genius mathematician brother living less than an hour away from FBI headquarters?"

Don crossed his arms over his chest. "We can have one shipped in from Washington, if that'll make you feel better," he said drolly.

"Don!" Terry cried, exasperated. "I swear, if you don't ask him, I will."

Don held his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll ask him."

Terry glanced over him, doubtful. "You will?"

"Yes. In fact," he said, rolling up his sleeve to take a false glance at his watch, "I'll go over to the house right now, get down on my knees and tell him that my partner simply can't live without--"

"Don."

"I'll ask him, Terry. I promise," Don said sincerely. "Just don't, you know, get your hopes up or anything."

Terry smiled. "Thank you." She paused. "You should go home. It's late."

"Yeah, I'm going to swing over to my dad's, check up on him and Charlie."

"Tell them I said hi," Terry said as she started walking from the desk. She paused and turned to face her partner again. "Hey, Don?"

"Yeah?" Don replied, glancing up from the file in his hand.

"He knows what he's doing," she told him. "Charlie, I mean. He's really not a kid anymore." With a finishing nod, Terry turned back once more and walked off. Don looked after her, watching until she pushed through the double glass doors at the end of the hallway. He tossed the file on his desk and shut down his computer before standing. He glanced down at a picture next to the computer, which displayed a ten-year-old Charlie, who was wearing an over-sized high school graduation cap and gown, standing with a beaming seventeen-year-old Don, dressed in the same style. The older brother smiled to himself as he remembered the day of the their graduation, but felt the familiar twinge of annoyance and envy at the younger man's genius, then the guilt that always followed. He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts and began his walk out of the building.

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Don unlocked the door to his childhood home and stepped inside. "Hello?" he called, shutting the door behind him.

He peeked into the den first, but upon finding nobody there, he continued into the kitchen, only to find that the lights were off. Confused, he switched the lights on, his eyes meeting a digital clock built into the stove, which flashed the time. 12:39 AM. No wonder nobody was awake. Don laughed weakly to himself, surprised that he hadn't realized how late it was. He must have been more focused on this latest case than he had thought. The quiet was interrupted when a tired voice called his name.

"Donny?"

The agent immediately turned around, coming face-to-face with his younger brother, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Don relaxed, closing the space between them to ruffle the younger man's wildly curly hair. "Hey, buddy."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he pulled away from Don's touch. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Don sighed. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"So what are you doing here?" Charlie asked again.

Don shrugged. "Just dropped by to check on you and dad."

"You don't have to, you know," Charlie replied, a cheeky grin working its away across his handsome features. "It's a very safe neighborhood, and we lock the doors every night."

"Don't mock me," Don said. "You know I like to come by."

"Yeah, I know." The brothers stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen until Charlie broke the silence. "You want something to eat?"

"Nah," Don answered. "Sit down, I'll make us some coffee." Charlie did as he was told as his brother bustled about the kitchen. "So, uh...What'd you do today?"

"Not much," Charlie said. He paused. "I ran into Jamie Huntington today, at the park." He nervously watched for his brother's reaction. Don stopped what he was doing for a split second before placing a filter into the coffeemaker.

"Did you?" Don said, his voice eerily stoic.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "She, uh... She was asking about you."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Just that you've been doing well, working hard... I didn't talk to her for very long."

Don grunted in response. He looked over his shoulder and gave Charlie a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm not upset."

Charlie bit his lower lip. "Are you sure?"

Don shrugged. "Jamie and I have been done for years now, Charlie. I know this is going to make me sound like a teenager, but I'm over it."

"But you were so in love with..."

"Charlie," Don snapped. He quickly recovered when he saw Charlie tense. "Look, it was a long time ago. Was I upset then? Of course. But it's over and done with, and I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Okay," Charlie quietly agreed. Silence filled the room again as Don went back to watching the coffee, and Charlie stared at the table before him.

"What on earth are you two doing?" a new voice questioned. Don and Charlie immediately turned to find their father standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

"Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, scraping his chair back. "I'm sorry, did we wake you?"

"Yes," Alan replied with a playful gruffness, patting his youngest son on the back, "but don't worry about it." He looked to his older boy. "What are you doing here?"

Don laughed. "We really need to work on our formalities," he commented.

"Son, if it were any other time of day, I would be happy to see you. But it's almost one in the morning, and you've woken both me and your brother up. Make sure I get a cup of that coffee, will you?" Alan said, seemingly all in one breath and without hesitation, as he retired himself into a chair next to Charlie.

Don nodded, reaching for another mug from the cabinet. "Sorry about my timing."

"He came by to check on us," Charlie told his father, repeating Don's previous explanation.

"Mmhmm," Alan grumbled. He directed his next question to Don. "FBI overworking you?"

"No," Don replied, "no, I'm the one who's overworking me. This case we're working on, it's... Well, it's just been kind of rough."

"I see."

"Terry says hi, by the way." Don poured the now fresh coffee into three separate cups and carefully carried them to the table, making himself comfortable in his usual seat. The three men sat in silence, all drinking their hot beverages while shooting each other awkward smiles and glances.

Charlie thoughtfully chewed on one of his fingernails. "So you're having a hard time with the case?"

Don narrowed his eyes toward his brother. "Yeah. We might need your help."

Charlie's eyes brightened. "I don't mind!"

"Look, Charlie," Don sighed. "I know you like consulting for us, and we all really appreciate it, but..."

"Don," Alan prompted his oldest son, sensing Don's caution. "What is it?

"The thing is," Don continued, "this case is pretty gruesome, Charlie. I'm not sure I want you in on it."

A puzzled expression crossed Charlie's features. "Then why'd you even ask me to help?"

"Terry wanted me to."

"Oh." Charlie exchanged a quick glance with his father, who returned a small shrug. "Don, I...If you need my help, I'm more than willing to give it. I always am."

"I know that, buddy."

"What's so different about this case that you don't feel comfortable with me being onboard?"

Don paused. FBI cases were not to be spoken about, but then again, Charlie did have clearance from the NSA. He glanced at his father, who held his hands up in the air in mock surrender.

"I'm going back to bed," Alan announced, finishing off the last of his coffee. He looked up at Don. "You'll be sleeping here tonight, then?"

Don nodded. "If you don't mind."

Alan shrugged. "It's Charlie's house," he replied, eliciting a snort from his youngest child. Alan grinned before standing. "Good night, boys."

"Good night, dad," the brothers said in unison, watching as the eldest Eppes retreated back to his bed. As soon as they heard his door shut, Charlie turned back to Don.

"What's going on?"

Don wrung his hands together, not really knowing where to begin. "You've heard about Geoffrey Pearce, right?"

"Pearce... Yeah, I heard about him on the news. He's a suspect for a murder, right?"

Don sighed. "Murders, actually. Charlie, this Pearce guy, he's... Well, he's very slimy." Charlie raised an eyebrow at his brother's word choice, but allowed him continue. "In the last three weeks, he's beaten, raped and killed two college students and two professors." Don released a shaky breath as he watched his brother.

"God," the young man breathed. "Those poor women."

Don winced. "That's the thing, Charlie. They weren't just women."

Charlie's reaction--which had gone from complete puzzlement to slow comprehension to, finally, realization--would have been comical had the issue not been so grim.

"Wait, you're saying that this Pearce has been... attacking women and men?" Charlie asked, fighting back a sudden bout of nausea.

"Yes."

"And...All these people attend or work at universities?"

Don nodded. "Can you see why I don't want you involved in this?"

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, soaking in this new information. "How has this not been released to the public? As far as I'd heard, Pearce was suspected of one murder, not four."

Don nodded. "We're keeping a lot of things under wraps until we can get more of a solid hold on this guy. He's our best--and only--suspect."

"And that's where I would come in?"

Don nodded again. "But Charlie, listen to me. In no way, shape or form do I want you to feel like you have to do this, do you understand?"

Charlie met his brother's concerned eyes. "I understand," he replied after a moment. "But I'd still like to help."

Don closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, leaning back with his coffee mug in hand. "I was afraid you'd say that." His eyes fluttered back open, and he locked his gaze with Charlie's. "Are you sure?"

Charlie gave his brother a small smile. "I trust you, Don."

Don attempted to smile back, but couldn't find the strength. "Charlie, I..."

"I'm getting a little tired," Charlie interrupted, standing from his chair. Don looked up in surprise, following suit.

"Right," Don replied, "it's late, you should get some sleep."

Charlie nodded in agreement. He gave Don another smile. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bright and early."

"Okay," Don answered, not knowing what else to say. He patted Charlie's arm before taking the younger man's coffee cup and turning to the sink.

"Good night, Don," Charlie said as he started out of the kitchen.

"Night," Don called back. "Charlie?"

Charlie immediately stopped when he heard his name, his questioning eyes making contact with Don's. "Hmm?"

"Don't think about it, okay?"

Charlie blinked, taking a brief second to comprehend what Don meant. When understanding washed over him, he nodded, though it was nearly imperceptible.

"Okay."

Without another word, the Charlie made his way up the stairs and back to his room, leaving Don standing alone in the kitchen, watching as the sink water overflowed his little brother's cup. Don turned the handle of the sink off and leaned against the counter, thinking about what had just come about. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out images of Charlie being the next victim in the string of crimes.

"Get a grip," Don chided himself, making his way to the couch in the living room and switching off the kitchen lights on his way out. "Nothing's going to happen to him."

TBC...