Disclaimers: Numb3rs belongs to Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci…I think. (NOT me! NEVER me!)
Summary: What if instead of silencing Dr. Eppes permanently, Bonnie Parks' kidnappers just wanted him out of the way so that the reporter would not be found before they were ready to release her?

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 4, Episode 11: "Breaking Point", and possibly other episodes that relate ... I can't think of any warnings other than that. If you think of any that I should mention, please let me know!

AN: Well, this idea hit me the first time I watched the episode "Breaking Point", and I haven't seen this variation on the episode yet, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Revised: 6/27/09.

Enjoy! ^_^

ABDUCTION

By Jess S

Prologue: Hit and Run

Cal-Sci, Pasadena, California

3-8-1-1-8-1-2-9-5-0-1-9—1-6-1-5-9-1-4-2-0—1-5-6—2-2-9-5-2-3

Charles Eppes jumped as a knock on his office door woke him from a light doze, and his head flew up from where it'd rested not quite comfortably on a pillow on his desk. He turned towards the door as it opened to see his old friend and colleague, Lawrence Fleinhardt. "Larry?"

"I come beseechingly," the physicist said as he entered the office, shaking his head. "In my efforts to rid my office of clutter, I may have dispensed with certain staple items. My copy of Fisher and Boyd* being one of them."

Charlie nodded, shaking off the vestiges of sleep that still clung to his weary form as he rose. "You want to borrow mine?" he moved over to his bookcase and quickly found the aforementioned book, taking it off the shelf and handing it to his friend. "Here."

"Thank you," Larry murmured, claiming one of the seats that students would usually use as he started persuing the book, even as Charlie turned towards his office door again to answer a second knock, which proceeded another CalSci professor.

Amita Ramanujan, his girlfriend, smiled at him then blinked at Larry, clearly surprised to see him there so early in the morning. "Hi, Charlie. Oh, hey Larry."

"Hi," Charlie returned with a small smile as he moved back to his seat.

Taking in his rumpled outfit—obviously the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before—plus his weary face and form, Amita frowned in concern. "Did you sleep here last night?"

"Uh, yeah," Charlie sighed, looking down at the pillow on his desk.

Amita's frown deepened. "Oh, I didn't realize you had so much work. I would've helped." She scolded softly, concern dominating her expression as she shook her head.

"It-It wasn't work," Charlie replied, picking up the pillowed he'd used and holding it after seeing no place convenient to put it at the moment. "I was, uh," he sighed. "I think I was, kind of, being followed last night."

Amita's eyebrows shot up as she crossed her arms and shook her head, still clearly concerned. "What'd you mean? Where?"

"In my car on the way here." Charlie replied, then shook his head at her alarmed expression. "I'm probably just being paranoid."

Though still frowning, Amita nodded. "M-Maybe you accidentally cut someone off in traffic? I mean, your driving is questionable," she finished jokingly, with a half-amused grin, but that concerned look never left her eyes.

Charlie frowned at the pillow he'd unconsciously been hugging and shook his head, "There's nothing wrong with my driving." He hoped neither of his friends thought he sounded as petulant as his own ears thought he did.

But Larry chuckled, also grinning. "So, the chorus of car horns that follows in your wake, what is that? A spontaneous phenomenon?"

Charlie sighed, shaking his head again as he was not in the mood for the familiar argument. "It was really late last night. There wasn't any traffic for me to cut off... This pick-up truck just turned on its high beams and started tail-gating me. I pulled over to let them pass, but they just stopped behind me." The mathematician winced in remembered fear at the strange occurence, "They kept following me until I pulled off really quickly onto a back road to get here." He finished softly, and then tried to shrug it off as the discussion of the event called back the not-too-far-off-terror the event had evoked.

Though they'd been chuckling a moment before, now both Amita and Larry were worried.

"Umm... Well, did you talk to Don?" Amita asked, coming up beside him to put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No," Charlie shook his head, some of the irritation he'd been feeling at his brother's continued, unforgiving anger at Charlie's media-mistake momentarily dispelling his rising, remembered fear. "Don was so pissed off about my interview yesterday. I... I didn't want to bother him." Then he sighed, weariness at both the continued problem and the new one taking over. "Besides what would I say? That I was scared by a tail-gater? What's he supposed to do about that?

"Well, if you gave him the license plate and a description of the vehicle he could, perhaps, ferret out who was following you. And maybe even why," Larry offered, his tone mild.

"I couldn't see the license plate. The truck was too close and the light was in my eyes." Charlie shook his head again. "I'm not even sure if the truck was white or silver, and the only thing that stood out was the high beams on the hood and," he thought hard for a second, then sighed again. "I guess the front of the truck looked a bit strange. But that could have just been because it was so close. Really, I'm surprised he didn't hit me."

"Well, even so," Amita shakes her head, moving directly behind him to start rubbing his shoulders, gently working out the painful knots that had formed while he slept bent over his desk. "You really should tell him, Charlie. He's an FBI Agent. He'd know what to do better than any of us, right?"

Charlie sighed, leaning forward to give her better access to a particularly stubborn knot in his right shoulder. "I guess..." a moment later he tensed again, as the thought of Don and the FBI reminded him of where he was supposed to be right then. "Damn it!" he swore, shooting to his feet quickly and moving away from his surprised girlfriend.

"Charlie?"

Charlie threw his pillow back onto his desk and hurried towards the door, where his coat was hanging on the wrack behind it. "I'm supposed to be at the FBI right now." Grabbing his coat, he groaned as he hurriedly put it on, his back and shoulders still sore from sleeping in an awkward position and his whole body weary from not getting enough sleep. "Great, one more thing for him to give me crap about!"

"Charles, is everything all right?" Larry asked, gazing at him in alarm.

Apparently both of the other CalSci professors thought he was over-reacting, Charlie realized as he looked back at the concerned pair. But he really didn't feel like dealing with two reproofs this morning, so he turned and hurried out of the office without responding, stifling the twinge of guilt he felt as he left two very concerned colleagues behind.

FBI Headquarters, Los Angeles, California

4-1-5-1-4-0-1-9--1-6-1-5-9-1-4-2-0--1-5-6--2-2-9-5-2-3

Don shook his head as David paused the recording of missing investigative-reporter's exposé of Mexican pharmaceuticals, his eyes going to the other agent.

"The woman's got guts," David admitted, shaking his head. "In the last six years, Parks's taken on just about everybody. Mexican mafia, crooked border patrol agents, bad cops, judges, mayors," he waived at the screen, "and a whole lot of shady businesses."

"So she's got plenty of enemies," Don summarized glancing at the screen again.

"Yeah," Colby confirmed, drawing the other two agents eyes to him. "I counted twenty-eight companies or individuals who'd have reason to go after her for revenge."

Don glanced towards the door as it opened and watched as his brother quietly entered and closed it behind him, but chose to ignore his entrance and kept his full focus on his agents.

"I mean, they either went to jail, were forced to pay huge fines, or were kicked out of office, so..." Colby finished with a shrug.

"I, uh, I think I can find a way to narrow your choices," Charlie offered a little hesitantly at the cold reception.

"Yeah," David shook his head, grinning slightly. "You mentioned that in your interview."

Don frowned and snorted, unable to suppress the anger he still felt at his brother's slip-up. He was still filling out paper work for the assistant director on the problem, since it occurred on his watch. From a member of his family, no less. "Among other things." He felt a twinge of guilt as his brother looked away, obviously hurt, but ruthlessly suppressed it as he waited for the mathematician to explain how he could help with this case.

"Uh, it-it's called an a-symmetric threat-assessment," Charlie told them, looking away from their stares and – Don's glare – shrugging as he continued. "I know we've done threat assessments before, but, uh, I think I can use this one to analyze and calculate their motive."

Colby spoke up again then, clearly confused. "But Charlie, all twenty-eight of the suspects are presumably after the same thing. Revenge, right?"

"Y-Yeah, that's true." Charlie nodded and looked up to meet Colby's eyes again as he explained, apparently comforted by the youngest agent's more forgiving expression. "But each suspect is motivated to a different degree." He stopped for a second, biting his lower lip in thought, then he nodded to himself and continued. "You know that carnival game, where you shoot a squirt gun into a clown's mouth to fill up a balloon?"

Don rolled his eyes at having his brother throw yet another metaphor at them but, remembering how they did occasionally help him understand the math that was normally way over his level of understanding, didn't tune him out or stop him.

"An a-symmetric threat assessment allows us to measure the factors that feed motive into each suspect, just like the mechanism in the game that measures the flow of water into each clown's mouth. It doesn't matter if the suspects all have the same motive, we just have to find the one case in which motive has been fed to the point where the balloon eventually pops. The suspects with the highest amount of motivation," he finished, only to shake his head again. "But that only considers the suspects that pose a threat to Bonnie Parks. Just as important are the people who are afraid of her. The people who she threatens."

"You mean anyone she's investigating who has something to hide," Colby followed.

Don nodded in agreement, "Yeah, do we know what she was working on?"

David shook his head, "No, not yet. We have a meeting with her producer and her editor this morning."

"Alright, good. Well, you know what to do," Don rose from his seat and nodded to Charlie, then to David and Colby, "and we know what to do, so let's get to it." He grabbed the folder he'd been reading earlier on his way out and opened it, reading it on the way to his desk, deliberately ignoring his brother, who'd followed him.

"Don..."

Don sighed at the clear note of hesitation he heard in his brother's voice, but decided again to ignore it. His brother had screwed up, he really should feel uncomfortable about it for at least a little while. "What, Charlie?" he snapped as he quickly sat down at his desk, opening up the folder of some of the anonymous calls the hotline had already receives on Parks' to quickly skim through it.

"Can... Can I talk to you for a second?"

"About what?" Don shook his head, his eyes still turned towards the phone calls as he flipped through the pages, though he wasn't reading them. "Something you left out of your interview?"

"N-No." Charlie paused for a moment, before continuing, a bit of irritation slipping into his tone. "You know I already apologized for that. I made a mistake—"

Don flipped the folder shut and slammed it down onto his desk before spinning around in his computer chair to glare up at his brother. "Yeah, a mistake, Charlie. One that the bureau has fired people for in the past. 'Sorry' doesn't cut it!" Seeing some eyes turning towards his cubicle, Don deliberately lowered his voice part way through and turned away from the clearly chastised consultant. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yeah, but..."

David and Colby passed by them then, coming away from their desks.

"Hey, Don," David told him, stepping around Charlie as Colby stopped next to the mathematician. "We're gonna head over to the producers now."

"Right, I'll keep looking through the LAPD's notes. See if they missed anything. Call me if you get anything."

"Will do," Colby replied, following David out, he nodded to both of them. "See ya, Charlie."

"Bye, Colby," Charlie returned, and his subdued tone finally got to his brother.

Don sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his brother again. "Alright, what?"

"Huh?" Charlie asked, turning back to him, eyes wide.

"What'd you want, Charlie? 'Cause I'm really busy here and you need to get going on that analysis. Wasted time could cost Bonnie Parks her life, if she's still alive."

"Oh, y-yeah. Y-You're right," Charlie shook his head and turned to leave. "I'll just... go get started then."

Don frowned at his brother's retreating back. "Charlie, what'd you want to talk about?"

Charlie stopped and turned back to him with a sigh. "I-It's probably nothing," he shook his head. "Forget about it."

Don continued to frown, watching his brother walk away and into the elevator. His big-brother-instincts were going crazy now, but after a moment he shrugged and turned his attention back to the case, ignoring them. He always felt guilty for feeling angry with Charlie, especially if he acted on his anger in any way. But this time the somewhat-naïve genius really did deserve it. Charlie had, after all, put Don's job in jeopardy. It wasn't really something the higher-ups would fire him for, but they could have taken the case away from him, put him on desk-duty or a suspension while another senior agent took charge of his team for this case. Fortunately, Merrick hadn't been that mad, but still...

Realizing he'd been staring at the same page in his notes for several minutes, Don shook himself again and forced his mind back to work.

Eppes' Hpuse, Pasadena, California

3-8-1-1-8-1-2-9-5-0-1-9--1-6-1-5-9-1-4-2-0--1-5-6--2-2-9-5-2-3

Several hours after leaving the FBI, Charlie sighed and shook his head as he looked over the threat-assessment he'd been working on for the better part of the day now, carefully changing another notation on the board and then turning back to his laptop to make the same adjustment. He then turned back to the board, chalk still in hand, to scan each line again. With his mind mostly gone in the world of numbers once more, he didn't notice when his girlfriend slipped into the garage and came up behind him.

Halfway across the garage, Amita shook her head, smiling slightly as she came several steps closer but deliberately stopped a few feet away from her boyfriend. "You know, I really, really wanted to sneak up on you and yell "boo!" … But I thought it might not be the best idea right now."

Charlie chuckled as he turned to her, smiling slightly. "Yeah, I appreciate the restraint."

"You have no idea." Amita shook her head again, while moving closer. She leaned in to give him a kiss then leaned back, her dark eyes scanning the algorithm on the board. "Who's threat assessment?" she asked, the concern in her tone clearly indicating that she did remember how threatened Charlie himself had felt earlier that day.

Charlie shook his head, "It's for Don's missing reporter." He glanced at the laptop as he continued, before looking back at the board. "It's running, but..." he shrugged. "I keep reworking the algorithm."

Amita nodded, still frowning. "Twenty-eight's a pretty large value for n."

"She had a lot of enemies," Charlie agreed, though his mind was already delving into the algorithm again, taking most of his attention with it.

Amita remained quiet for several long moments, letting him work, but shook her head as he stayed still, staring at the board. Remembering a comment his father had made a few minutes before she asked, "Why does Alan keep grumbling about Ray trying to ruin the house?"

That seemed to snap Charlie out of his math-induced daze for at least a moment as he turned back to her. "You know, I'm really not sure," he replied, shaking his head. "All Ray wants is to make the house more eco-friendly and get off the grid a little. So..."

"And Alan's against that?" Amita asked, clear surprise in her tone. "Wasn't he the biggest activist-hippie in the sixties?" Charlie shrugged in response, clearly no less baffled even as he turned back to his algorithm. "City planning's all about efficiency... it doesn't make sense." She glanced at Charlie's laptop as it started beeping, then back at her boyfriend, who's mind had gone elsewhere again. "Charlie... your computer's done."

"Oh, thanks." Charlie turned to it, not even looking at the results as he snapped it shut and grabbed his backpack, slipping the computer inside. "All right. I've gotta get this over to Don..."

"Do you want me to ride with you?" Amita offered after a moment's thought.

"No," Charlie shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You were right, I probably just did something to annoy the jerk and he decided to scare me for it."

"You sure?" Amita asked, shaking her head. "I'd be happy to give you a ride."

Charlie chuckled and smiled as he leaned in to kiss her again, "I'll be fine by myself..."

"Okay," Amita nodded after a moment, walking with him to the door of the garage. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Charlie frowned, looking at his watch. "Is it really that late?"

Amita rolled her eyes and reached out to grab his hand. "Charlie did you eat lunch or dinner?"

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie nodded, smiling at her concern. "I had lunch on the way home... and I'll stop for a burger or something on the way to the FBI. I just didn't realize it was that late... I'll see you tomorrow." He left out the fact that he'd barely eaten a few bits of the sandwich he'd bought for lunch, not liking it after he'd forgotten it in favor of starting to work on the algorithm. By the time he'd remembered the melted cheese and hot meat were both cold, and the soft bread they'd been served on had hardened a bit too much for his tastes.

"Okay, drive safe."

4-1-5-1-4-0-1-9---1-6-1-5-9-1-4-2-0---1-5-6---2-2-9-5-2-3

Don shook his head as he looked over the list of license plates Colby had just handed him, "That's a lot of plates."

"Yup," the younger agent agreed, "And she could be stashed in any one of 'em."

Don shrugged, but made no further comment. If Colby wanted the extra work, he wasn't going to stop him. Besides, it wasn't like they had anything else to go on at the moment. He glanced towards the door as it swung open and accepted the papers David handed him with a nod.

"The guys in the lab had no problem pulling off what was on those pads we found in her office. But it's kind of interesting, look at it." He pointed to the sheets of paper then quickly took the computer mouse from Colby to open up the file it was saved in on the FBI network. "It's just numbers... I mean, there's two full pages of it."

"Yeah," Don nodded in agreement, looking down at the two pages he was holding before turning back to his agents again. "Any theories on what they are?"

"I don't know," Colby shrugged, "it could be some kind of code. Maybe we should get Charlie on that?"

Don nodded again, "Yeah, all right, I'll give him a call." He wasn't too pleased at the idea of calling his brother back to the FBI so soon, having only chased him off a few hours before and still a little annoyed with him. But Charlie was still 'the guy' they went to for numbers. He listened to Colby and David with one ear as he put his phone to the other, waiting for Charlie to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Charlie," Don returned, hoping none of the mild irritation he was feeling at having to make this call leaked into his tone. "Look, I need you to take a look at some numbers..."

"Okay, yeah... I'm on my way down there right now." His brother replied, sounding a bit distracted. "I just finished my threat analysis."

"Yeah, anything?" Don asked, glancing out the window at the dark sky and deciding it was much too late for rush hour traffic being the cause of Charlie's distraction.

"No... Nothing. Nothing unusual... No one stands out."

"Really?" Don frowned at another dead-end, more than a little surprised at his brother not magically—or at least mathematically—finding their suspect like he had so many times before now. "With all the people she ticked off?" he sighed as his brother remained silent. "Where are you now?" As his brother's silence continued, Don's frown deepened. He didn't hear static or dead air, "...Charlie? ... Hey, can you hear me? Are you there?"

He wasn't reassured by the deep, clearly relieved sigh he heard his brother give a long moment later. "Yeah, uh... I'm sorry. Yeah, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Alright," Don nodded, his big-brother instincts were still unhappy, but Charlie would be here soon and he'd get to check on him then, anyway.

"Alrighty. Bye."

Don hung up his phone and tried to tune all the way back into David and Colby's discussion. He really hoped Megan got back soon. The team wasn't the same without her. Not only because they were an agent short and didn't like any of the temporaries the AD offered to assign, but also because despite the annoyance she occasionally caused when she was analyzing one of them, the profiler was a very useful team member in her own right. Don didn't doubt that there was something they were missing here that Megan Reeves would see...

3-8-1-1-8-1-2-9-5-0-1-9---1-6-1-5-9-1-4-2-0----1-5-6---2-2-9-5-2-3

Charlie sighed as he hung up his phone and dropped it down into his cup holder, while shrugging to try to relieve the tenseness that had suddenly grown in his shoulders when another truck had come close to tail-gating him.

"It's nothing," he told himself, shaking his head and shrugging again as he drove along, driving right by the Burger King he'd originally planned to stop at for a quick bite to eat. "I'm just being paranoid... It's nothing."

After a few miles of mumbling to himself, he finally managed to calm down, frowning as he glanced down at his speedometer and saw that he was well over the limit. Much as he'd like for this drive to be over, he really didn't want to show up at the FBI headquarters with a speeding ticket. So he forced himself to tap the brakes and slow down a bit.

The stress of the past twenty-four hours was taking a toll on his mind. Even before his interview the atmosphere at the FBI headquarters had been tense and harried. He'd felt in the way more then anything else when he'd visited, since they hadn't had any data for him to work with at the time. He supposed that was part of the reason that the reporter was able to get him talking. He'd wanted to feel useful and for all too short a moment he was: but to the wrong people.

When the reporter had first stopped him, a part of him had just wanting to see what kind of questions the man might ask. He remembered wondering what similarities this reporter's techniques might have to those of the missing Bonnie Parks. True, they really had different jobs, but they were both reporters...

Looking back on it, Charlie knew it had been foolish to even stop and listen to the reporter. He should have left immediately after saying he knew the FBI was doing all it could, but that he couldn't comment on the details of an ongoing investigation...

Still, it was a mistake that he'd now apologized for twice.

After being followed last night, the looks he was continually getting from Don and his team at the office, not sleeping in a bed and not getting anywhere near enough sleep anyway, Charlie was somewhat surprised he'd even been able to finish the threat-analysis without taking a break. Or passing out. Except for a few minutes early this morning and not too long before now, Charlie hadn't had any real wind-down time at all. The only times he had had was when his girlfriend had come calling. Amita, who'd noticed his harried state and expressed concern both times...

Charlie smiled slightly as he thought of Amita. A part of him wished she could help with this case somehow, if only so a fully friendly face would be around when he went into Don's work place. As it was, Colby seemed inclined to forgive just not quite there yet. David wasn't quite as rule-bound as he used to be but he still tended to follow his boss's lead ninety-percent of the time. Megan, sadly, wasn't here. And their boss, his brother, was probably still pissed.

He sighed again, his smile disappearing at the realization that his brother was undoubtedly still very unhappy with him, and probably wasn't going to be any better when he showed him that the a-symmetrical threat-analysis had really been useless. He probably wasn't happy about having to call him to help with another number problem, either...

Charlie blinked as a familiar shape further down the road caught his eye. His heart sank as he recognized the truck that had followed him the night before, now sitting along the side of the road. He watched anxiously as the truck's headlights came on and it pulled out behind him, quickly gaining despite the fact that he'd unconsciously pressed his foot a little harder down on the gas pedal as his heart had speed up.

The mathematician looked around, frantically, and was horrified to see that the road was completely deserted once again. It was just him and the truck. And this part of the highway was nowhere near any residential areas or businesses.

All the bitterness he was holding towards his brother disappeared in less than an instant and he frantically reached for his phone again, snapping it open to hurriedly push the speed dial for Don's cell.

He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring, waiting fearfully for his brother to pick up eyes shooting back and forth between the road he was driving on and the swiftly gaining pursuer in his rearview mirror. As soon as it stopped ringing, he started talking, all but shouting into the phone, "Don, help—Ah!" he cried out, clinging to the phone as the truck rear-ended him from behind. A glance in the rearview mirror had him pushing even harder on his accelerator, hoping to gain some distance before his mind made sense of what his ears were hearing from the phone.

"—manujan, I'm not hear right now, but if you leave a message after the tone with your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Charlie shook his head and brought the phone away from his ear, moving to end the call so he could hit Don's speed-dial but was stopped as the truck hit his car from behind a second time. The phone flew out of his hand and bounced off the dashboard as he cried out, "Gahh!"

He looked in his rear view mirror again, flinching as he saw the truck coming quickly up—too close—behind him once more.

"Oh God!"

He was slammed forward in his seat again, and looked frantically around, seeing only empty road and his cell phone, still open on the floor in front of the passenger's seat. A turn off caught his eye and he quickly pulled off, tapping his brakes once to gain control of his car before hitting the gas again, hoping to get away.

He heard a squeal of tires and then the headlights were behind him again, and gaining.

He shook his head as he looked around the unfamiliar, desolate area.

No cars.

No houses.

...Just open road.

His heart somehow sped up even more, pure terror seizing him as he glanced in the rear view mirror again, to see that the truck was close enough to hit him again. "No!"

This time it hit him hard enough to make his head slam forward into his steering wheel, momentarily disorientating him, and by the time he noticed he was heading right for a tree it was too late. He only barely managed to turn enough to the left to make his car hit along the side, instead of head on.

SMASH!!!

The tree stopped his car and made the airbags deploy, smashing Charlie back into his seat and knocking the wind out of him before holding him there.

A moment or two later Charlie shook himself out of his daze and started struggling against the massive white mass that was restraining him. He reached for his car door handle, but the door was suddenly jerked open and out of his grasp.

He heard something pop and fell forward a bit, only to be stopped by his seatbelt as the airbag deflated. Before he could do anything else he felt something close over his mouth and nose: a hand holding a cloth that smelled strange.

It was a smell he unhappily recognized from one of his early college chemistry classes, when a student had mixed it—supposedly—by accident...

Chloroform. The sweet-scented liquid that was dripping off of the cloth over his face was chloroform: a knock-out drug.

He tried to pull away as the sweet smell flooded his senses, but couldn't move.

Pinned in his seat by his seatbelt and the hand that was pushing his head back into the seat, he had nowhere to go. There may have been more hands holding him too, he couldn't really tell as the cloying chemical started to take effect, each strained breath pulling the drug into his mouth, burning its way down his throat and into his lungs. His vision blurred and seemed to shrink till he could only vaguely see a light in the distance. But that, too, started to blur.

Then his eyes rolled back in his head and everything went black.

End of Prologue: Hit & Run.

AN: So? What'd you think? I know I stole quite a bit from the scripit, but I did warn you about spoilers for the episode, and it is supposed to be set right then... it wouldn't really make sense for me to change what they said completely, would it?

One note from in the chapter itself: *1 – 'Fisher and Boyd' – I hope this is right...when I Googled it I got a law firm, but it was the closet I could think of...

Anyway, I hope everyone liked it and would love some constructive criticism/comments. Remember, reviews are the only payment a fan fic writer ever gets!

Bye for now! ^_^

Jess S

NEXT: Chapter 1: Missing.