A/N: Shortish update- I find action scenes difficult to write. I have to have them very clear in my head. In any case, the story progresses. Enjoy. :)

The bullet missed them and ricocheted off of Larry's car, leaving a dent and a scar in the paint job. His beautiful car! she thought, regretfully. He's going to be so upset. When she looked back at him, though, he didn't seem to even see it. His eyes were entirely fixed on her.

Her phone rang again. Megan swore silently, reached down with her left arm, pulled the phone off her belt and slid it, with all her strength, across the floor of the parking garage and away from them. A shockwave of pain went up her arm as she moved it, and she stumbled, gasping. She wasn't going to be able to use that arm again any time soon. The bullet had broken something in her shoulder or arm or somewhere, she was pretty sure.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled her gun out of its holster with her right hand and pushed Larry in front of her, crawling along the floor in the opposite direction of the ringing phone. Without thinking about it, she did her best to keep herself between Larry and the shooter.

She could hear footsteps across the parking garage. She tried to focus on getting Larry into the stairwell, where the concrete could serve as cover for him to escape.

"Dr. Fleinhardt," a voice called out. The woman speaking sounded almost nervous. "You should leave. I don't want to shoot you by accident."

Megan and Larry froze. They were at the back of a dark green SUV, and she could see the stairwell only 10 or 15 feet away. She was crouched on all fours, Larry in front of her. He turned around suddenly, putting himself in her arms, and looked up at her. Megan thought he would be frightened by all this, but there was none of the terror she'd seen on his face earlier. She didn't know how to interpret his expression, but it wasn't simple fear. Shock, maybe, she thought, worried.

"I know you don't believe me," the voice continued. "But it's true. Shooting the servant would be justice, but shooting you would violate the law."

Megan looked at the stairwell, and at possibilities for cover around it. There were no cars in the immediate vicinity; if one of them ran for it, they'd have to hope to get inside before the shooter hit them. Still, if she could provide a distraction, there was a chance for Larry to get clear-

She leaned into him, taking momentary pleasure in the warmth and the smell of him. "I'll cover you," she breathed into his ear. "Call Don." Without letting go of him, she turned, peeking cautiously through the windows of the SUV. She caught a glimpse of a dark figure a fair distance away. "Count of ten," she whispered, and nodded towards the stairs.

She turned, intending to duck around the cars, away from Larry and towards their assailant. As she did so, Larry caught her, reached up, and kissed her. "Go." she hissed at him. Shakily, he nodded, and turned away.

"She's not answering," Don said. He hit the "end" button savagely, cutting off Megan's voicemail. He dialed her number again, and stood for a moment, listening to it ring. By the time her voicemail answered again, he was already out of the door of Charlie's classroom, headed towards the car. Amita had to run to keep up. "Dammit!" he said. He punched David's number in.

"Sinclair," David answered.

"Yeah, David- have you gotten to the hospital yet?"

"Been here for a little while already," David answered. "We relieved Megan." There was a pause on David's end. "They finished the surgery, and Charlie's being moved to recovery now."

"We?" Don asked. He shook his head. "Never mind. How long ago did Megan leave?"

"Five, ten minutes. Is there a problem?" David sounded concerned.

"I don't know. I'm on my way over there, okay?" Don fished in his pocket for his keys.

"Alright. See you soon."

Don had no sooner put his phone back on his belt when it started to ring again. "Eppes," he said, flipping it open.

"Don," the voice on the other end of the line said. Don stiffened, unable to identify the voice immediately. "Megan is- is wounded. She directed me to call you." Don breathed. It was Larry, his voice choked and strange.

"Wounded? What's happening, there, Larry? Amita found out that the call came from inside the hospital-"

"We were at the car, in the parking garage," Larry said. "I was standing right next to her, and someone just started shooting. She was magnificent- she-"

"Was she hit?" Don found himself next to his car. He pulled the door open.

"She was shot, yes," Larry said. Don thought he sounded like he was about to burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I'm not being clear. She told me to leave, and I- I just left her there. I should have- should have- but she told me-"

"I'm on my way," Don said, mechanically. "Call the police, Larry. I'm on my way."

Don started to drive.

"Why are you doing this?" Megan called, ducking down behind a Dodge Colt. She would have liked more substantial cover than a tiny hatchback, but she was looking for a better vantage point. Or a way out, one or the other. "Revenge?"

"It's not revenge," snapped the shooter. Female, Megan thought, now that she had a chance to think about it clearly. Middle-aged? It was hard to tell. No distinctive regional accent. "It's the righteous execution of the law," the shooter continued.

"Yeah, the law," Megan responded. "You mentioned that. I'm an FBI agent, you know. We're supposed to uphold the law. Is that important to you?"

"You don't uphold the law!" The woman fired a shot. The window of a nearby vehicle shattered. "The law is beyond you!"

Megan sucked in her breath. Her left side was starting to feel cold, and numb. She checked her weapon with her right hand, lifted it, and looking for a good shot. "What is the law, then?" she asked. Keep the shooter talking.

"It's the law of the universe, Agent." Megan couldn't see the woman. If she'd been wearing her vest, or she hadn't already been shot, she might have risked coming into the open or rushing the other woman. But now?

"The law of the universe?" Keep talking. If nothing else, Larry would bring help eventually.

"You shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe. He killed a brother, killed his servant. His brother and his servant are forfeit, Agent. If not you, then one of the others!" She fired again, closer this time. The shooter's voice was rising, getting more intense. Megan was starting to realize that she was dealing with someone without a firm grip on reality.

In the distance, she heard sirens.