Disclaimer: I own nothing (at least, nothing I can tell you about).

A/N: The cuckoo-ness knows no bounds, I fear. Insert famous Tarzan yell here. I wrote half of this a few months back but reached a block. This still isn't what I wanted it to be in the beginning, but I can't reach that stage without it becoming too cheesy.

Reference made to Vector, Obsession, Burn Rate andHollywood Homicide

Thanks to Jels for taking me at my word and giving me a poke :-) So what if we're closer to Summer 2008 than 2007? A fic is a fic.

T is for Tarzan

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" called out Charlie.

For a few seconds, there was no answer other than the sound of rustling leaves. Soon, Charlie's patience began to wear thin and he was just about to call out again when a shower of leaves and twigs preceded the advent of Don Eppes as he leapt down from the tree branch he'd been sitting on.

Wiping his hands clean on jeans which in actuality weren't much cleaner them self, Don smirked as his brother brushed off clinging remnants of Don's descent from his hair and clothes.

"I've spent the majority of my adult life dodging bullets and you're worried I'm going to get myself killed falling from a tree?" asked Don incredulously.

Taking in the ruffled form of his usually pristine-condition brother, at least when not in the middle of a hot case, such as now, Charlie remarked: "Well… it sounds so unlikely, it would turn out to be true, especially since you're the guy who runs towards a car that's about to explode, rather than away from it."

"Yeah, I can see the headlines now: 'FBI agent felled by a tree, and no, he wasn't rescuing a cat.'" said Don.

"That would be more the job of a fireman," corrected Charlie, "and since you brought it up, do you mind telling me what you were doing up in the tree in the first place?"

Always one to not satisfy his brother's insatiable need for information, Don repeated Charlie's words from over two years ago: "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Hey, I said that in relation to matters of national security. In this case, you are on my property, climbing my tree, in my backyard."

"Getting a little territorial there, aren't we, Chuck?" asked Don.

"It's a valid question, Donald," replied Charlie, narrowing his eyes at the nickname.

"Well then, why don't you climb up and see for yourself?" suggested Don, picking up the bottle of water he had left at the base of the tree.

"Why? So I can break my neck? No, thank you," answered Charlie, peering up through the branches although unable to see much due to the fading sunlight.

"You didn't seem so worried about breaking your neck when you climbed a tree the same size as this one in record time when we were teenagers," replied Don, taking a long swallow of water.

"I kinda had motivation in the shape of a huge dog chasing me, Don."

"Charlie, it was a poodle!"

"Frivolous they might look, but less dangerous they are not!" protested Charlie. "Have you seen their teeth? They're tiny but boy, are they deadly. Also, they're a woman's pet, and you know what they say: Hell hath no fury…"

"…like a poodle scorned?" completed Don. "You never told me what you did to piss the poodle off, by the way."

"I did nothing!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Sure you didn't, bro," Don replied, although his tone made it clear that he was only humouring his little brother.

"You changed the subject. Are you practicing for the next Tarzan movie?" Charlie pointed one finger up into the branches of the tree. "Bro, I know this is L.A and all, you've worked on some celebrity cases and it's hard to resist the lure but - don't quit your day job." Charlie patted Don consolingly on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'd make an excellent Tarzan if I wanted to. I've already got the saving damsels in distress part covered," retorted Don.

"And being saved by damsels," pointed out Charlie.

"Oh, I wouldn't call Terry or Megan damsels when they're in hearing distance, by the way. It'd be a quick way of suddenly being short one family member," Don cautioned as he made his way towards the back porch and sank into the soft cushion of a chair placed there for when the heat of Los Angeles went on sabbatical and the weather turned lovely, such as now.

"Please. I'm not as tactless are you might think," huffed Charlie as he followed his brother and collapsed into a chair next to him. "I won't call them damsels to their face. I'll just tell them you said it."

Don, who had closed his eyes in the meantime, opened one to peer at his brother. "Looks like somebody wasn't paying attention in class when loyalty was being taught."

Charlie grinned. "Are you telling me you can't defend yourself from the fairer sex?"

Don snorted. "First time I was paired against Terry in DT – Defensive Tactics," Don amended for Charlie, "she kicked my ass. I was too worried about the telling off I would receive from Mom and Dad for being rough with a girl. See." Don reached out and poked his brother in the arm. "Chivalry. Tarzan material right there."

"Except its Jane who's the hero in your story, bro," retorted Charlie. "And speaking of, you still haven't told me what you were doing up in a tree."

"Communicating with the aliens so that they can come and abduct you already, Charlie."

"Now who fell asleep during loyalty lessons?"

"Hey, who was the one who distracted the poodle so you could come down?" retorted Don, referring to the childhood memory.

"Okay, I'll grant you that." Charlie waited for a beat. "What were you doing in the tree?"

"Trying to prove the existence of faeries for Larry."

"Don."

"Carving your and Amita's initials into the trunk."

"Don!"

"Hey, I could go on all day," said Don, laughing. "Okay, okay." The older man threw his hands up in defence to the glare, combined with an embarrassed flush, which was being sent his way. "I was- Oh, hey Dad." Don waved to their father who had come through the backdoor to stand on the porch.

"Any chance that we might sit down and have dinner as a family before the next lunar eclipse, in say, three years?" asked Alan, hands on his hips as both sons looked guiltily up from their seats. Satisfied that his powers as a parent had served their purpose with efficiency, Alan went back into the house, not needing to turn around to know that his sons were following.

Before Don could disappear through the door, Charlie reached out and placed his hand on his brother's arm to stop him.

"And?" Charlie prodded.

"And what, Charlie?" asked Don.

"What were you doing up in the tree?"

"Oh, that. Can't say. Dad interrupted me, and now zip, I can't remember. Too bad, Charlie. Maybe I'll remember before the next eclipse rolls around." The smile on Don's face stopped just short of being gleefully malevolent.

"Do-on." Charlie made a valiant effort to prevent his words from sounding like a whine. "You're going to make me climb the tree myself to find out, aren't you?"

Don smirked and patted his brother on the shoulder before going inside before calling out:

"Unleash the Tarzan in you, Charlie."

Khatum (The End)

And I unleased the LOST syndrome in me by not giving any answers :-) let the theories prevail (or not). And in this fic, assume a tree worthy of Enid Blyton is situated somewhere in that humungous backyard of the Craftsman.