A/N: Hmmm, well would you look at that! I wrote a nice little one shot that just happened to pop into my head. And then few people put it on alert, despite it being a one shot, and I started asking that question authors dread – what did happen next? Now look at this, I'm staring down the barrel of an, at least, four chapter story, if not longer. So are you all happy with yourselves, hmmm? :-)

Ah no, I don't mind really, but do leave a review, cause this is my first attempt at rather unhinged character, and I rarely, if ever, write suspense or drama. So I'll need to be told I'm doing a good job, right? Well I hope you all enjoy the ride!

The door of the Craftsman house swung open silently as a dog-tired, but happy, Don Eppes entered, already reaching to remove the gun at his hip. He looked up at a noise and was faced with his little brother, hair in disarray, coming down the stairs. Charlie's eyes were half closed but he became more alert upon spotting his brother.

"Don! Did you get him? How's the girl?"

Don gave a weary smile, "We got him buddy, at the warehouse. And the girl's fine, not counting a life time of therapy" He dropped his keys and badge into the bowl by the door, where they joined Charlie's keys and a lone magic marker.

Charlie, meanwhile, was beaming, "That's great Don! – Well, not the therapy, but that she's ok"

"All thanks to you Chuck"

With true-to-form humility, Charlie looked embarrassed, running a hand through his mass of curls, "Not really. It was you guys who got him – I wouldn't be much good in a shoot-out. And don't call me Chuck"

Don just laughed, ruffling his brother's curls as he headed for the kitchen, ignoring the long running complaint, "Yeah, maybe, but we aren't much use if we can't find the guy, are we?" By now he was in the kitchen, Charlie trailing behind, and reaching for a beer from the fridge.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, "Starting a little early this morning aren't we?"

Don shook his head, taking another swig, "Starting a little late from yesterday you mean. The team's been given three days off to recover – I must say we need the sleep. So I'm gonna have this beer and then head up to bed. But we should do something while I have the time off. Watch the game at the least"

"You know I don't know why you bother paying rent on that flat, it's not like you're ever there" joked Charlie as he went about making his own breakfast – or would that be lunch at this point? – really just happy to have his brother around.

Mark Douglas was not happy at all. He also had three days off, but he was not sleeping. Instead he was sitting in his small apartment, contemplating the telling off he had got from Don Eppes over his brother.

Favouritism, thought Mark. There'd be no talk of that maths geek being god if his brother wasn't big bad Don Eppes. The truth was that Mark had never liked Don. The agent was straight laced as they came, demanding total dedication to the job, and full compliance with the law. He had given out to Mark on his second day for using excessive force in an arrest. So maybe Mark had roughed the guy up a little, but that guy had murdered a young boy in a robbery – he deserved every bruise. After that Mark had known Eppes was keeping an eye on him. A lesser agent wouldn't have noticed, but Mark knew he was being watched. He knew Eppes was the one stopping him getting the best cases, knew it was Eppes who had him on desk duty, knew it was Eppes who had had him reprimanded for having a quick temper.

A quick temper, Mark thought angrily, I don't have a temper! The beer bottle he'd been drinking from flew across the room, smashing against the far wall. It's all that Eppes' fault, making a fool of me in front of the whole team. Just cause I dared to question his perfect little brother. That stupid geek didn't even help. I was about to look at that guy's file, it was next on my list. Then I would have been the one to find the guy, I would have been the hero. Now everyone's laughing at me for getting told off by that idiot, and I missed out on the arrest. The bottle opener joined the broken bottle on the floor. That dusty scholar doesn't deserve the credit. What the hell does he know about what we do? I'd like to see him tackle a perp, or take a bullet in the vest. He's useless. When did the FBI start using teachers to do their job? It's not how it's meant to be.

And maybe it didn't need to be.......Mark's mind took a turn for the darker as he imagined eliminating Charlie from the picture. Not kill him obviously, Mark was a good agent, 'serve and protect'. But maybe if he showed the professor what a dangerous game he was really involved in, how out of his depth he really was, then the annoying little know-it-all would lose his nerve and back off. And it'd teach Don Eppes not to use civilians to do an agent's job..........

A/N: A very short chapter I know, but sometimes there's just a place you've got to stop at. The rest of the chapters shouldn't be this short, like I said this one just ended here in my head. Also it's kinda late and I have college at nine in the morning :-)

Review!