LAPD SWAT was already there, with their own hostage negotiation team. Uniforms manned the barricades set up where, on a normal morning, harried parents dropped their kids off.

Don was out of the SUV almost before the engine died and striding across the asphalt toward what was obviously the command post, Megan right behind him. Charlie climbed out more slowly and followed at a safe distance, a clipboard clutched to his chest. The protective coloration of the academic. Brakes squealed, and Charlie looked over his shoulder to see Colby and David's SUV shuddering to a stop. They hopped out and sprinted past him without acknowledgement. For the first time Charlie began to wonder if this was really a good idea.

Then he heard his brother's voice as he introduced himself and his team to the hostage negotiator. Backup. I'm here for backup. And sometimes backup isn't necessary, but it's still good to have.

Charlie edged in as close as he dared, in time to hear the negotiator introduce himself as Ted Harmon. He was a middle-aged man in riot gear whose salt and pepper hair poked out from under his black baseball cap in untidy tufts.

"What have you got?"

Harmon sighed, and Charlie wondered how long he'd already been here. It was still early, but the day was growing steadily warmer, and the heat radiating off the asphalt didn't help. "Right now, we've got someone who doesn't want to talk to anybody but one of you guys, as near as we can tell."

"We're going to take care of that," Don said. "You've got the floor plan, a list of the kids inside--is everyone else out?"

Harmon nodded as he handed over a clipboard of his own to Don, and gestured to a series of drawings taped to the side of the tactical van. "Floor plan, ventilation system, electrical system. Thank god he made his move early. There were hardly any students there yet--just a few whose parents have early shifts. I guess Chatsworth has a before-school program as well as an after-school program. "

"And the library is--"

"Here." Harmon indicated a room on the first drawing. "And, there." He swept an arm towards the building before them. Charlie turned and raised his hand to shade his eyes. A bank of ten-foot-high windows caught the morning sun and flashed it back to him, so like code his mind immediately itched to decrypt it.

"Bet your snipers are thrilled," said Don.

"We've got a couple of guys with better angles. Windows are still coated though. Makes it just a bit tougher, but nothing we can't handle--"

A shrill ringing split the morning calm and everyone stopped. Harmon, his finger hovering over the connect button, looked at Don. "He must have noticed the new arrivals. You ready, Eppes?"

"Megan? How do you suggest we play this?"

Megan shrugged helplessly. "He's got kids, Don."

"Good cop it is." Don nodded, and Harmon's finger jabbed down. "Phil, this is Agent Eppes." Silence. "Phil, can you hear me?"

"How--how do you know my name?" A thick voice, harsh with fear and exhaustion, but--young, Charlie thought.

"We met yesterday," Don said gently. "You wanted to speak to me?"

A choked off sob that turned into a wracking cough. "If you found me, you found Art."

"Yes, we did," said Don. Compassion warmed his voice. "I'm sorry for what happened to Art. We didn't protect him very well, and we didn't serve you very well after his death, either. I'd like you to give us another chance to help you. But you have to let the kids go first."

"I--no! What do you mean, another chance to help me?"

"We can reopen the case, find out who killed your brother, Phil."

Charlie listened to Don, fascinated and a little queasy. Don used that voice on him sometimes after an argument, or when he wouldn't come in from the garage. He noticed Megan standing with her eyes closed, listening so hard it seemed like she must be letting the man's words replace her own thoughts.

"It's too late for that," Phil snapped. "How would you like it if--you don't know what it's like--"

"Easy, Phil," Don said soothingly. "I have a brother, and I can tell you if something happened to him I'd go nuts."

Charlie stared at Don while the agents all listened to the silence on the line.

"You have a brother?" The voice quavered. "Is he your big brother?"

"No, I'm the big brother--"

Megan's eyes flew open and she dragged her forefinger across her throat.

"But that doesn't really matter," said Don. "Those kids there all have brothers, and if they don't have brothers they have sisters, and if they don't have sisters they have moms and dads and grandparents and cousins--they haven't hurt you, Phil. Let them go and then let's you and me talk about how we can help you."

At first Charlie thought the line had fallen silent again, but slowly the sound of sobs grew more distinct. "Somebody," gasped Phil, "somebody has to learn what it feels like."

"Phil, we know and we want to help you--"

"Shut up!"

Don fell silent. He exchanged a look with Megan. She worried her lower lip between her teeth.

"You come here. Then I'll let the kids go."

Charlie's stomach twisted and he clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Phil, that's not such a good idea--"

"That's the deal. You come here, I'll let the kids go."

Don straightened, his face impassive. "Give me a few minutes."

"Don't take too long. I don't need all of these kids."

The line went dead.

"God, Don, I'm sorry. I starting realizing how family tied in, but--"

Don held up a hand. "Megan, don't. We didn't exactly have time to analyze every word." He looked at each member of his team. "Well, what do you think?"

"It's that one sentence," Megan said. "That one sentence scares me."

"Somebody has to learn what it feels like," said David softly.

Megan nodded. "Exactly." She turned to Don. "You're the big brother. You even look like his brother, for Christ's sake. How else to truly communicate his pain and sorrow than to take you away from your loved ones?"

Don turned to face the school and scrubbed at his face. "Options?"

"Call him back, try to get him to calm down. But I don't think he's looking to get out of there alive. He's a man who is desperate to be heard, is willing to kill and die to be heard, and he thinks he's found the perfect message."

Don turned back and took a deep breath. His face remained impassive as his gaze moved from Megan to David to Colby, studying them, measuring them. Then he slowly, deliberately, looked at Charlie. His mouth tightened and he swallowed, and Charlie was filled with a wild hope that Don would retreat from this insane plan, shake his head, say, "There must be some other option."

Don looked away, and Charlie nearly cried out from the loss.

"Let's do it, people," Don said.

Charlie stared at him, stunned. A roaring filled his ears, drowning out Don's quick instructions to his team. As they scattered, Charlie threw himself forward. "Wait--Don? Don! You heard what Megan said. The probability that this guy wants to kill you approaches unity! Unity, Don. Do you understand what that means?"

Don grabbed his arm and turned him around, away from the school, away from the sight of men and women in body armor checking their weapons, the bullet-proof shields, the tear gas canisters. "You need to go home, Charlie. I'm serious. You can't be here for this."

"Don--" He knew that remote, focused look on his brother's face. Agent Eppes was in charge.

"Hernandez." Don motioned to a junior agent Charlie barely recognized.

Hernandez trotted up. "Sir?"

"I'm sure you recognize Professor Eppes. He's a very valuable asset to this organization and you will escort him to the barricades and personally hand him over to the safe-keeping of a uniform with express instructions to take him home. No where else. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Hernandez. She eyed Charlie a little dubiously and cleared her throat. "Professor?" She took his arm where Don had been holding him and Charlie jerked away. He hadn't even felt Don let go--

He saw his bother striding toward the tactical van. "Don," he cried. "You can't do this! What about m--what about Dad?"

Don stopped. Charlie could tell from his hunched shoulders and clenched fists that he was fighting for control, and when he turned around Charlie recoiled, stumbling backwards until he slammed into one of the bureau's SUVs. Don's face was white and totally expressionless, but his eyes were alive with rage.

He didn't speak until he stood directly before Charlie. "Do not throw Dad in my face when I am doing my job," he said, his voice quiet, almost conversational. "Do you understand me?"

Charlie dragged in a shuddering breath, knowing that the only thing he would ever fear more than seeing his brother like this would be seeing his brother walk across the street and disappear into that school. "I understand you're about to get killed. That's what I understand."

Don closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them the terrible anger was gone, but they were still remote, cold. "Listen, Charlie," he said quietly. "I don't have much time, so I need you to listen, and listen carefully."

Charlie nodded. As long as Don was in front of him, talking, Don was not--

"Charlie, when we were kids, you took from me."

Charlie's attentions snapped back to Don. "What--"

"You took from me, Charlie. Just about everything. You took Mom, you took Dad. You took choices, options, chances, the possibility of ever being anything but the genius kid's older brother."

Charlie could say nothing, could only stare into his brother's implacable face.

"It pissed me off, Charlie. I resented the hell out of it. But I never hated you. You know why?"

Charlie swallowed, shook his head.

Don smiled, almost gently. "Because you had no clue what you were doing to me. Now you do, Charlie. Now you do. And you've got to stop." He took a step back and Charlie followed.

"That's how it is?" Charlie tried to match the steadiness of Don's voice, but he was failing miserably. He was failing Don. "I let you get killed, or you hate me for the rest of your life?"

Don shook his head. "You still don't get it. That's not how it is, because you don't get a choice."

Don's words slammed into him and Charlie choked back a sob. Tears blurred his vision. He felt his brother's hand touch his face. "This isn't about you, Charlie, or Dad. It's about me, and who I am, and what I do, and right now what I'm going to do is go into that building and get five kids away from a nut with a gun."

Charlie dragged a sleeve across his eyes and blinked furiously, trying to clear them so he could see into his brother's face, catch his brother's eyes, but Don wasn't even looking at him. Don was staring over his shoulder at the school, and somehow Charlie knew that expression--

It hit him, and he had to fight to keep from gagging. Don was studying the scene with the same single-minded intensity Charlie felt while worrying at a fascinating proof. Big brother Donnie was staring at his very own chalkboard. Charlie dragged in a sobbing breath. "Donnie, no," he choked, but Don had turned away, Don was running, Don was gone.