Disclaimer:In the immortal words of the wheelchair dude in Stuck on You: 'Deny, Deny, Deny!'

Author's Note:Well… I got my result: ABB. It's not that great, but it could have been a lot worse. And when you've got a support system like my family and friends, it'll be ok. And heck, I'm a writer, aren't I? I'll dazzle them with my personal statement :)

But first things first, some credit for this story must go to Shaolingrrl, who loves plot and so, sparked off my first plot-heavy fic.

As you must have noticed with previous chapters, time jumps a lot in this story.


Guarding the Guardians

(Epilogue)

Charlie quietly wandered into the house and took and moment to take a look at his surroundings before silently closing the door behind him. Putting his bag on one of the dining room chairs, he poked his head into the kitchen just in time to see his dad frantically wave a cloth napkin at a smoking frying pan.

"Dad? Need any help?" asked Charlie, eyeing the frying pan suspiciously.

"Hi son. No, I got this under control. Just a minor altercation with tonight's dinner but nothing to worry about," coughed Alan, fanning the smoke towards the kitchen's open windows. "You just got home? How were the finals?"

"I don't think I've made any new friends among my students but it doesn't look like they did too badly. Where's Don?" asked Charlie.

"He just went upstairs a few minutes ago. Said something about taking a nap before everyone comes over tonight," informed Alan.

"Ok," and just as quickly as Charlie had popped his head into the kitchen, he disappeared, leaving Alan behind to scrap the ruined experiment off the frying pan and into the trashcan.

Charlie grabbed his bag from the dining room chair and with the intention of having a nice cold shower after a such a humid day, bounded up the stairs. He was almost halfway up the stairs to the first floor landing when the sight of his brother sitting on a step had him stumbling and quickly grabbing the banister to stop his falling flat on his face.

"Hey buddy."

"Don? Why the hell are you sitting here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" asked Charlie.

"Well, if you remembered the old house rule of no running up, or down, the stairs, the heart attack, my youthful brother, could have been avoided," replied Don from his position halfway up the staircase, elbows on his knees and head leaned tilted against the wall.

Once Charlie's racing heart had calmed a bit, he took a better look at his brother, noticing the slight hint of weariness, "Ok. I'll let that one slide. Why are you sitting here? Dad said you were taking a nap."

"Well, to take a nap would mean first getting to my room. Got tired halfway, decided to sit a bit," Don looked around a bit, "It's not that bad actually, and I get to see the house from a new perspective."

Biting down on his lip a bit as he thought, Charlie finally decided on a course of action and put his bag down on the step near Don's feet and eased himself to sit next to his brother, keeping himself pressed against the banister in order to not brush against his brother's injured side too much. Don had come home from the hospital a week and a half ago, and had slowly but steadily been getting better, with more time now spent awake rather than in sleep, be it a drug induced slumber or the rest of the weary.

The brothers sat shoulder to shoulder, silent. While they had interacted, especially since Don had been released from hospital, there were undercurrents of things left unsaid or unmentioned between them, from both sides and both had felt it. Instead of choosing to confront it, they had carried on with the façade that everything was fine, helped by the fact that Don hardly had the energy to do much these days, and Charlie had the genuine excuse of being caught up in the drama of imminent finals, with students coming desperate, at the last minute, to have certain confusing topics explained to them.

Don was the first to break the rapidly awkward-turning silence with a question, "So-uh- everything alright at school? No repercussions from…?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I think the students are more afraid of crashing and burning in their finals rather than whether any shooters, as well as half the city's law enforcement personnel and paramedics, are paying visits to their campus.

"That's good," commented Don.

"Yeah… the Chemistry guys had taken it upon themselves to remove the…uh… stain from the parking lot. The cleaning solutions available on the market weren't working so they came up with their own. I think test solution 7 finally worked," said Charlie, half lost in memory. Ever since he had gone back to CalSci, two days after Don was shot, he had purposefully avoided looking in the direction of the visitor's parking lot, not wanting to see the place where his brother might have died. He didn't know that some students had noticed this, most especially when one math student, Bryan, had approached him with a question just in sight of the big red stain on the tarmac, and while answering his question, Charlie had rotated them so that his back was towards the parking lot and Bryan faced it. Bryan, always perceptive, had connected the dots, and mentioned it to his Chemistry major room-mate and as everybody knew, those Chemistry cuckoos were always up for a challenge.

"That's good… wouldn't have wanted it to become a part of CalSci history, having its own special mention in the campus tour."

"Or have it become a thing for ghost stories… kinda like that blood stain in The Canterville Ghost," When this fictional reference earned him raised eyebrows from Don, Charlie protested, "What? I do read some books outside of the math world…besides, Susan dragged me to a stage adaptation of it once, when we were in London."

Don simply smiled and nodded and silence descended again. Suddenly finding his fingernails to be very fascinating, Don began:

"So, Charlie, listen-," Don paused, unsure of how to proceed, "I -uh- I'm really sorry things happened where they did. It was stupid of me to go into a public place, with lots of students and civilians around when there was the slightest chance that I, or Megan, could be the next target. I never meant for the bloody and violent part of my world to intrude so much on yours."

"So your regret in all this is the place where you were shot?" summed up Charlie in disbelief.

"Isn't it yours as well, Charlie? You don't think I've noticed the fact that you're ticked off at me? That of all the places where I could have been shot, I had to get shot right in the heart of your world of academia, logic and rationality?" countered Don, glancing at his brother.

When Charlie made no attempt to deny these accusations, Don continued, "Look, I know the chances of something like this happening again at your school are pretty much nil, but I understand if you don't want me or any of my agents coming over anymore. And you shouldn't have to come all the way over the federal building every time we have a new case or more data, so… we'll figure something out."

"No, I don't want that," said Charlie quietly.

"Don't want what?" questioned Don for clarity's sake.

"You not to come around the school anymore. That day, you weren't around for official business. You came to see your brother. And as much as I hate the fact that you had to get shot at a place where I feel secure, what I don't like more is the fact that you got shot at all," Charlie held up a hand to stop Don as he opened his mouth to say something, "I know, Don, you had to protect Megan. I'm not saying I would have preferred her to be the one who got shot, over you. As much as I hate to admit it, nobody could have predicted that the killer would show up at CalSci and go after you two. But we shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of that man's actions more than we already have."

Taking a few seconds to digest all that his brother had said, Don nodded in acquiescence. Silence prevailed once more, but it was a comfortable one. However, the sound of a cat meowing jilted them from their own thoughts as a orange, tabby feline calmly wandered in and curled up on the bottom step and began washing itself.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Don in surprise.

"I see it too. I think Mrs. Weatherbee's darling Precious jumped in through an open window," Charlie guessed.

"Hey. You remember that old parrot of dad's? What happened to it?"

"You mean Feynbird?"

"Feynbird?"echoed Don.

"Well, I had to name the parrot something, since Dad wouldn't. Feynbird…Richard Feynman… Well, I thought it was appropriate," defended Charlie.

"You're a bit cuckoo, you know that? Anyway, you don't think our little feline friend here…" Don let the sentence hang; very sure that Charlie could fill in the blanks for himself.

"Committed parrot murder? Don, be serious. Feynbird wasn't exactly Tweety bird. The parrot was taller than the cat; Dad probably gave it away… I hope," concluded Charlie.

Both brothers stared at the cat, who in turn had fixed its unyielding glare on the siblings.

"Ok, the cat is starting to freak me out now. Mind helping me up to my room?" asked Don.

"Sure, bro," Charlie got up and gave his brother a hand up; putting his arm around Don's waist once his brother was standing. "I'm glad you're ok, Don," said Charlie quietly.

Don snorted, "You call this ok? I have the stamina of an 80yr old man."

"I meant-,"

"I know what you meant, bro," smiled Don and gave his brother a squeeze on his shoulder. "Now would you mind picking up the pace, or have you turned into a grandmother without my noticing?"

THERESATYPHOONGOINGONOUTSIDEIKIDYOUNOT

Much like at the dinner held at the Eppes home what seemed like a lifetime ago, dessert was once again provided by Professor Larry Fleinhardt and his container of liquid nitrogen. However, this time Alan had whipped up a delicious apple pie to compliment the vanilla ice cream, to go with the dinner of roast turkey. Earlier that day, Don had stuck his head into the kitchen and asked whether somehow he had done a Rip Van Winkle and slept all the way to November. Alan had replied with, "Well, it's a thanksgiving, but no pilgrims are involved with this one." Don had merely looked confused and Alan was left to wonder how his son, the master of picking up subtle differences, could miss the simple stuff by a mile.

"Mr. Eppes, I have got to say, this is the second-best apple I've ever had," commented Colby as he ploughed through his helping. At Alan's amused look he clarified, "First prize still goes to my mom. I swear, she does some hoodoo voodoo with hers. But this is a very close second."

"Sorry man, will have to disagree with you. First prize goes to this diner near my school in New York. Seriously, manna from heaven, that apple pie. Your mom's pie and Alan's pie can duke it out for second," interjected David from across the table.

"Oh no. Now I'm going to have to referee this argument at the office for the rest of the week," murmured Megan as David and Colby began to quibble over the table while still eating pie. "You sure there's nothing I can do to speed up the healing process, Don?"

Don smirked and said, "You can always make them behave by taking them to the gym and showing them just how black your black belt in Krav Maga is. Through demonstration, of course."

"Of course," agreed Megan, a sadistic gleam in her eyes.

David and Colby exchanged a worried glance and said at the same time:

"End of discussion-,"

"It's ok; Alan's pie is the best-,"

"-No need for any kind of demonstrations."

"-I'll take Megan's word for her abilities."

Millie laughed and added, "If only I could handle my quarrelling professors the same efficient way."

Amita and Charlie looked at each other, bemused, while Larry continued to sit quietly next to Megan. For some time now, especially around Don, Larry had become more subdued than usual, and Don knew that eventually he would have to have a talk with the physicist and assure him that his guilt was unjustified. That would certainly be one… interesting talk, between the cosmologist and the FBI agent.

Conversation around the table ceased as the ring tone of Don's cell-phone filled the air. Don quickly answered it as 8 pairs of eyes watched him.

"No, I do not have a VW to sell, you've got the wrong number," said Don's frustrated voice and then he hung up. Noticing that he was the centre of attention, he explained, "Fifth call today. People keep calling me, asking whether the VW is still up for grabs."

The slight hint of apprehension that had filled the air when Don's phone rang, even though everyone knew that Don was still on leave and had yet to start desk duty, disappeared and conversation picked up from where it was left off, only to be interrupted by Megan's shriek:

"There's something under this table! I felt something furry brush against my foot!" tensed Megan.

Larry ducked under the table and appeared with an orange cat in his hands, patting its head, "Charles, I did not know you were in possession of a cat. And it's quite a large cat…"

Charlie exchanged an amused glance with his brother before answering, "Apparently, its taken possession of us. I think it has developed a taste for cuckoos."

Khatum (The End)


Phew, all done. The cat was inspired by finding out that one of the problems the crew faced when filming at the original Craftman were the presence of multiple cats, who had to be locked in a room during filming. Meow. Go to YouTube, search for Numb3rs TV Land Confidential.

Wanted to come full circle (as with Cat Burglar), hence the dinner. I want apple pie.

Thanks a million to all those who've reviewed, especially all those who answered my queries regarding protocol and bullet matching etc and stuff, appreciate it. And even if you haven't reviewed, no worries. I'm going to try and finish my alphabet track now, 12 letters to go. I'm taking title suggestions for X and Z, if anybody's got any.

Had fun writing this, even though it was a kind of an emotional rollercoaster in terms of what was going on (and is still going on) with my life these days. Ha. See you around, people :)