Doug stood in front of the stall, eyeing his handiwork with a grin of satisfaction. He now had Alan restrained in an identical fashion to Charlie and watched as the two men huddled together under his hard gaze.

"Any idea why you're here?" he asked, keeping his tone conversational.

The two men seemed to think it best to remain quiet and waited for Doug to continue.

"No?" he laughed bitterly. "Don's not going to like that." Banks pulled his knife from its sheath and turned his attention to the agent hanging behind him.

"Please don't hurt him," Charlie spoke softly. "Just tell us what you want."

Doug glanced over his shoulder and grinned maliciously. "What if hurting him is what I want?"

"No, Doug," Alan spoke up. "You were never like that. You were a good person."

"Were," Banks spat. "Things change." He turned to Don and pressed the tip of the knife against his shoulder, before ripping it down the sleeve of his shirt. He reveled in the gasps of shock behind him, followed by sighs of relief as they realized he hadn't cut Don. He repeated the same action on his other sleeve, and slowly shredded the shirt until the agent was bare-chested in the cold winter air. He knelt and quickly removed Don's shoes and socks from his limp legs, tossing them aside and looking in the direction of the stall. "You know how many nights I spent in the freezing cold? I was homeless for a while and I just remember never being able to get warm." Banks patted the agent's bare stomach and raised an eyebrow in question. "Wonder how Don will like that?"

"Doug," Alan said in his most compassionate voice. "You were like family to us, son. You don't want to hurt us."

"Why not?" he snarled as he looked at Alan and Charlie. "You hurt me. But Don here hurt me the most, so he's going to pay for it – nice and slow."

Banks walked to a workbench just out of view of the stall and picked up an empty bucket. He hummed as he patiently filled it from a nearby tap, relishing the feel of the icy-cold water as he let it run over his fingers. Once the bucket had grown heavy in his grip, he turned off the tap and returned to the stall, setting it down where Charlie and Alan could see it. "Are you thirsty?" he asked.

"Yes," Charlie replied nervously.

"Can't have that," Banks smiled amiably as he returned to the workbench and brought back two canteens. He filled each one, opening the door and tossing them into the stall where the two men could reach them. He casually leaned against the wire and watched as father and son drank greedily.

"Don?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"Of course," Banks nodded. He picked up the bucket and took the three steps needed to stand next to Don's side. "Here you go," he hissed as he doused the hanging man's body.

--

Don jolted awake as several sensations assaulted him at one time. He'd been blissfully unaware, but that world had been shattered as a freezing, wet sensation had poured over him, making his lungs seize in his chest. As he started to regain control of his breathing, an intense burning sensation in his shoulders and arms threatened to send him back to the world of darkness. Don was more than agreeable to that idea, but a sharp slap on his cheek followed by an angry voice kept him from escaping the pain.

"Wake up, Don!"

The agent groggily opened his eyes and weakly shook his head to keep the water from running into his eyes. As the world came into focus, he saw his captor standing in front of him and leaning close as he shouted. Don involuntarily pulled back, sending Doug into a fit of laughter.

"You scared, Fed? Maybe your brother ain't the only smart one in the family after all."

Charlie? Oh no, he has them, too. I remember…

Don squinted and looked over Doug's shoulder, his heart sinking as he saw his brother and father restrained in some kind of wire cage. He wanted to ask them if they were okay, but he couldn't around the disgusting cloth shoved in his mouth.

"Don't worry," Banks laughed. "They're fine. They're not the ones I want right now."

Don's stomach knotted at his captor's implied threat and he forced himself to focus on his situation. He realized his hands were restrained over his head and glanced up to see the metal bracelets as they bit into his skin. He could just feel the ground beneath the balls of his feet, and was grateful he wasn't fully suspended, knowing the ache in his arms would have been a thousand times worse. A shooting pain in his knee reminded him that almost completely suspended still wasn't a good thing, although he didn't know why the one knee would be hurting so badly.

"So," Doug said as he circled Don like a shark. "Now that you're awake we'll begin."

Begin what? Don wondered fearfully.

He watched as his captor retrieved something from a workbench and slowly returned to his side, holding up the object in his hands for the three Eppes to see. "Looks harmless enough, right?"

Don thought it looked anything but harmless, but could only watch as Doug flaunted the item in front of his father and brother.

"This was one of the reins off my old riding bridle," he lectured as he ran the worn leather over his palm. "Grandfather taught me to take good care of my riding equipment and in turn it would take good care of me." Doug waved the rein to his side and snapped his wrist, grinning at the loud crack of the leather. "I forgot to clean it once and boy, was he mad. Taught me a lesson right then and there."

Oh God, no, Don thought despairingly. Not here – not in front of Dad and Charlie.

Doug's hand slid around to rub the long scars that covered his lower back. "But it was a good lesson for me." He turned away from the stall and fixed Don with a cold stare. "And it's going to be a good lesson for you, too."

--

Charlie watched in terror as Doug – once his friend, now some madman out for revenge – circled his helpless brother, randomly swinging the rein through the air. His fear for his big brother intensifying, the professor began to twist and tug at the metal bracelet locked around his wrist.

"It won't give, Charlie-boy," Doug calmly stated. "Only the best for my family."

Family? Charlie wondered. His family kept manacles on hand? That explains a lot.

"I know you two want to help Don," Banks remarked as he snapped the worn leather in his hands. "And as ridiculous as that is, I'm willing to work something out."

"What?" Charlie asked, pouncing on even the hint of helping his brother.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and you two – together, if you like – are going to answer. Answer correctly, Don goes unscathed. Answer wrong…" He trailed off and sliced the rein through the air, smiling as it landed against Don's stomach.

Charlie's heart broke as he watched Don try to avoid the blow, only to wince in pain when it lashed across his belly. "Don!"

The agent met Charlie's eyes and gave him a firm look – one that said, 'I'll be okay, Buddy – just hang in there'.

Leave it to Don to comfort me when he's being tor- The professor couldn't let himself even think that word, so he looked up at Doug and defiantly jutted out his chin. "What questions?"

"You always were eager to show of those smarts of yours. First question: What date did we first meet?"

"What?" Alan asked.

"What kind of question is that?" Charlie asked, dumbfounded.

"Apparently one you don't know the answer to." Doug swung the rein again, this time leaving a red welt on Don's lower back. Don swayed on his feet, but didn't cry out.

"You didn't give us a chance to answer!" Charlie angrily protested.

"Fine," Banks sighed. "What's the answer?"

The professor looked at his father who shrugged in helplessness. Turning to his former friend, he said, "It was sometime in 2000. We met at a bike shop."

"Nice that you remember that," Doug smiled. "But that's not the date." He swung again, putting more force into it, and another welt appeared on Don's upper back, this one leaving behind a thin trail of blood.

"Stop!" Alan cried. "Please stop hurting him!"

"Then answer the questions correctly, Mr. Eppes. Question two: What is the first thing we ever had at your house for dinner?"

Charlie barely heard the question, his focus on Don as his brother glared at Doug. "Mom cooked," he finally said.

"Pot roast," Alan offered, playing the odds since that had been one of his wife's best meals.

"Wrong again." Another lash, another welt, and Don still refused to cry out. "Geez, Don. You'd think if they cared about you, they might actually try for a right answer, huh?"

Charlie saw the blatant fury that swirled in Don's eyes and knew that if he wasn't restrained, Doug would be in a bloody pile on the ground.

"Question three: What was the score of our first game of Scrabble?"

"You can't even possibly know that!" Alan snapped in anger. "You're just setting us up with impossible questions so you can hurt Don!"

"While I do enjoy hurting him, I can assure you, Mr. Eppes, that I know the answer to every single one of these questions. You tend to remember things like that when they're important to you."

"A Scrabble game is important to you?" Alan asked in shock.

"Guess that means you don't know the answer."

Charlie could only watch as Doug brought the rein crashing down on his brother's chest again, praying that his former friend would soon run out of questions.

--

Alan sat with his head against the wall, eyes closed, and tried to block out the memory of what he'd just seen. The whipping session had seemed to go endlessly, Don growing weaker and weaker as he sagged in his bonds, putting more pressure on his arms and shoulders. Alan had wanted nothing more than to ease his son down, hold him close, and make the pain go away. Well, that and to make Doug Banks-

"Ow!" he yelped as he looked at Charlie.

"Sorry, Dad," the young genius replied. "But your head wound needs to be cleaned."

"I'm fine, Charlie. I'm not the one being brutalized by-"

"I know," his son cut him off. "But you've got blood and glass covering half of your head. Please let me take care of you."

Since we can't do a damn thing for Don, Alan added silently. "Okay," he relented. He looked at Don who hung unconscious in his bonds, thanks to another sedative Doug had seen fit to administer. "At least he's not in pain when he's not awake… I hope."

"Me, too," Charlie agreed as he tenderly cleaned his father's head with the hem of his tee shirt.

"He hit him so many times…"

"Thirty two." Alan raised an eyebrow and the young genius shrugged. "You know me and numbers. Besides, I really couldn't not count, you know?"

"I know," the older man sighed. "What do you suppose he wants with us?"

"It doesn't seem to be us that he's interested in. Well, no more than having an audience to watch him."

"But your brother barely knew Doug," Alan wondered aloud. "What could Don have possibly done to him that would make Doug hate him this much?"

"I wish I knew," the professor sighed, patting his father's shoulder to indicate he was finished. He wearily sat next to Alan and watched Don as he hung by his wrists. "We'd better figure it out, though. Don's tough, but…"

"I know, Charlie. I know."

Alan felt Charlie lean against him, a tremor running through his body. "Cold?"

"Yeah," the younger man replied.

Alan slipped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, rubbing his arm to generate heat.

"What about Don?" Charlie asked in a small voice. "He's wet and just hanging out in the open, and since Doug left the barn wide open, there's a cold draft out there."

"Like you said," Alan said as he held Charlie even closer. "Don's tough."

"Right."

The two men huddled together as they watched their loved one, trying to will him to stay warm in the freezing gloom of the night.

--

"I don't think there's anything here," Colby growled in frustration as he slammed the Murray file on the conference table. "I've been through everything – our reports, the AUSA's reports and the motions and evidence filed by the defense – and there's nothing there."

"Nothing that we can see," Megan said as her face brightened. "Something that only Charlie would see?"

"In case you haven't noticed," Colby said dryly, "Charlie's not here."

"Duh, Granger," she retorted as she rolled her eyes. "But we know someone else who 'speaks Charlie', don't we?"

"Larry," the agent said as he sagged in his chair. "Any reason you didn't think of this three hours ago?"

Megan ignored him as she flipped open her cell and called her friend. "Larry? Sorry to wake you." She paused for a moment as the physicist spoke. "Of course you weren't – I understand how you feel. Do you think you could come down here and look at some stuff for us? We're hoping there's a clue in there, but that only Charlie – and you – can understand."

Colby suppressed a yawn as he glanced at his watch – one-thirty in the morning. He started skimming the reports again as Megan wrapped up the conversation with Larry.

"Great," Megan said. "See you soon."

"I hope he can figure this out," Colby said as the other agent put away her phone.

"You've seen how they work together – if there's a clue there, he'll find it."

"Hey guys," David called as he stuck his head in the conference room. "Since the plate number came back reported stolen, I ran a query on all auto thefts within a ten block radius of that occurrence."

"Because our guy would have a comfort zone," Megan reasoned. "And?"

"Got a hit on a 1998 dark blue Econoline." He glanced at the printout in his hand. "Reported missing the same day as the plate."

"Coincidence?" Colby grinned.

"Right," Megan snorted. "You two get down there and see what you can turn up. I'll wait here for Larry and work this end."

"On it," Colby nodded.

"Hey," she stopped them. "Tread softly. If this is his comfort zone, there's a good chance he's holding the Eppes nearby. Don't want to spook him."

"We'll tread softly," David assured her.

To which Colby added, "But we'll also carry a big stick."

--

Doug rose bright and early the next morning, slipping from his warm bed and crossing to his bedroom window. He had a perfect view of the barn in the distance and smiled as he saw Don hanging where he'd left him last night.

And judging by the light frost on the ground, he must have been miserable, Banks thought happily, a smile creeping onto his face as he grabbed a shower and then proceeded to the kitchen to make breakfast. As he skillfully maneuvered around the stove – his grandfather had believed a boy should know how to cook, too – he thought back to the point in his life where he'd finally thought he'd found happiness.

He was twenty-five years old and fresh out of college – it having taken six years to earn his degree because he'd worked full time, too. He'd developed a passion for bike-riding during his school years, finding nothing in the world relieved his stress and made him feel freer than the sensation of racing through the open air. But due to a careless motorist, Doug had been hit while riding. He'd emerged from the accident unscathed but his bike had been trashed. And that's how he found himself standing in line at the bike shop, waiting to get an estimate to repair his pride and joy.

"Wow," a young man whistled from behind him. "I hope you weren't on that…" He gestured and raised an eyebrow.

"I was," Doug chuckled. "Lucky as can be that I didn't wind up as messed up as it did." He ran a finger along a vicious looking row of stitches on his right cheek. "This is the only injury I got that was even close to serious."

"I'd say you were very lucky, but I don't believe in luck."

"No?" Doug inquired, curious as to the way in which the young man carried himself and spoke.

"I know," the curly haired man laughed softly. "People think I'm weird like that."

"Not weird," Doug replied. "I think it's very interesting."

"Now that's a first."

Smiling as the young man loosened up, he introduced himself. "Doug Banks."

The young man took the proffered hand and grinned. "Charles Eppes."

"Nice to meet you, Charles."

"Charlie," the young man corrected. "Everyone calls me Charlie."

"Charlie, I found one!"

The curly-haired man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Including my ever-so-helpful father." He gave a little shrug and waved. "Better go see what he's found."

"You're looking for a new bike?" Doug asked excitedly.

"My first one. I need a way to get around campus and to my classes."

"College student, huh?" Doug smiled.

"Professor, actually."

"No way! How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Dang boy, that's impressive." Doug watched as a flicker of annoyance crossed the young man's face, only to disappear when he sensed Doug was being sincere.

"Thanks," Charlie beamed.

"Charlie Eppes, the boy professor." Doug set his bike down and nodded in the direction of his new friend's father. "So, Charlie-boy, I'm a bicycle whiz. What say I help you two get set up?"

"That'd be great," the professor nodded thankfully. "Just one thing."

"What's that?"

"I apologize for my father in advance."

Doug laughed a clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "I'm sure I'll love him."

And he had – he'd loved them both. They'd become the family he'd been missing for so long and he'd discovered a happiness the likes of which he'd never known. Sure, Margaret had seemed a little distant, but he brushed it off because she wasn't 'one of the guys'.

It wasn't until much later that Don had come home… and Doug had lost the family he'd grown so attached to.

"But revenge is sweet," Doug spoke aloud in the empty house. "And it's finally mine."

TBC