AN: It's been almost exactly five months since the last time I posted a chapter in this story and for that delay I sincerely apologize. Hopefully I can make up for that by letting everyone know that I waited to post anything more until I finished the story, so by my posting this chapter today you can be assured that the rest of the story is soon to follow. I should be posting a new chapter every day or every other day and should have it all up within a week or two.

Thanks as always to my friend and beta reader, Kerry Blue. She is always a tremendous help. I also want to thank those who reviewed or PMed in the last few months to let me know they were still interested in finding out how this story ended. I won't name names for fear of accidentally leaving someone out, but all the encouragement and interest was very much appreciated and was a part of my finally buckling down and writing the last few chapters of this story.

As part of that thanks to all of you who will read this story, I though of a kind of fan appreciation contest. When I started writing this story, I was of course influenced by the song that I chose for the title, Everybody Plays the Fool. However, there was another song that has influenced a few things here and there. It's still an oldie of course, and anyone who can figure out what that song is and who sang it will get to pick an oldie song for me to write a fic around. If it fits a chaptered story I have ideas for then I might use it for that, but I think it's more likely that I will write a oneshot for it and maybe even let the winner give me some ideas of what they would like to see. However, the only guarantee that I will make is that the winner gets to pick the title of my next fic in this series. All guesses must be given in a review only because 1) that restricts the amount of times people can guess to once a chapter and 2) because that allows the guesses to be public and transparent where everyone can see them and in the case of two or more people guessing the right song, everyone will be able to see for themselves who sent in the correct answer first. First correct answer, which means the full title and the correct artist, picks the title of my next fic in this series. At the end of each new chapter I post I will say whether the right answer has been given or, if there has been no correct answer, I will give some kind of hint about the song I'm thinking of. If no one gives the correct answer by the time I post the epilogue, I will tell everyone the answer and we will maybe try this again some other time. If anything about this confuses anyone, feel free to ask me in reviews or a PM. I hope this little contest I thought up will prove to be fun though and I look forward to possibly using someone else's idea for a title for my next fic. :)

Now that that is all out of the way, we can finally get on with the show. Disclaimers can be found in the first chapter if you need them, otherwise, continue on and hopefully you will enjoy the rest of my little story! :)


Devon shifted slightly as he waited on the sidewalk outside his parents' house. He hoped she got here soon. He wanted to be well on his way before his mom called to check up on him. He had begged off from the family meeting by claiming fatigue and his parents hadn't questioned him. Devon felt a little guilty about playing on their worry over him, but it wasn't a complete lie. He was tired, but he wouldn't let that stop him from helping the family and he couldn't do that from his mom's office where everyone else was gathering. He was going on a fact-finding mission and it was a little too…delicate for most of the members of his family. Which was why he had called Brandy Charles.

Just then an SUV pulled up and the woman in question waved him over. He got in and struggled with the seatbelt. She waited patiently and quietly until he finished for which he was grateful. He knew it didn't make him less of a man to ask for help, but it still grated. "Thanks for coming. I know you don't really have any reason to trust me."

She turned in her seat to face him more fully. "I would think it would be you who wouldn't trust me." She paused and bit her lower lip momentarily. "I haven't really had the chance to apologize about our first meeting-"

Devon held up a hand. "Really, it's not necessary." He smiled when she started to protest. "Even if it was, you came and picked me up without asking any questions. I think that makes us even."

She searched his eyes, considering his words. Finally she nodded and turned back towards the front. She put the car in drive but left her foot on the brake. "Okay then. Where to?"

"New Jersey."

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"New Jersey?" He had just finished thanking her for not questioning him, and here she was doing just that. And yet, she couldn't help herself. She hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly hadn't been interstate travel.

"Yeah. The information I think we can get is there." She raised an eyebrow but moved back out onto the street and headed towards New Jersey.

They were quiet for awhile, which didn't really bother Brandy. When she was excited about something she could ramble with the best of them, but she also liked to be quiet sometimes and didn't feel the need to fill silences with noise. She supposed that was a good trait to have since she often had to spend hours bent over a microscope or a weapon analyzing the evidence without anyone to talk to.

And being quiet gave her time to think, though right now she wasn't sure that was the best idea since her thoughts tended to revolve around the man sitting next to her. She felt this strong connection to him which was odd considering how little she really knew about him. She had met most of his family now, but she still didn't feel like she knew the man. Well, staying silent wasn't going to solve that problem and Brandy wasn't one to leave a mystery unanalyzed.

But where to start? "So," she began, going with the first thing that came to mind, "how is your rehab going?"

She glanced over in time to see him grimace as he flexed his left hand. "Pretty well. I hope to be out of this sling soon. The hip will take longer to heal."

"At least it was your left arm that was hurt." She blushed at the raised eyebrow that comment received. "I noticed that you were right-handed. Considering guns are my thing, I tend to notice whether people are right- or left-handed and things like that."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke next. "I should be used to those kinds of observations. In addition to my sisters in law enforcement, both of my parents are lab techs like you and they tend to notice even the smallest of details. I almost never got away with anything I did when I was a kid because their eyes didn't miss anything."

Brandy sighed a little wistfully. "Must be nice." She lightly bit her tongue. Why had she said that? Around Devon Messer she was worse than usual with her habit of blurting things out that she didn't mean to say.

"You didn't have people watching out for you growing up?" he asked, slight concern evident in his voice. At least she hoped that it was concern and not pity.

"I didn't have a bad childhood or anything," she assured him. She didn't really want to say more, but she figured that if she wanted to learn more about him, then she was going to have to be willing to open up a little about herself. "I know my parents care about me, but they're both very busy career people, so they weren't generally around to notice whether I had done anything wrong. Even when they were around they were often too preoccupied to care too much. Not that they really had anything to worry about. I was a bit of a goody-two shoes."

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Devon didn't doubt that she had been, probably in an effort to please her parents enough to get a little attention from them. "My parents are busy with their careers too, but they've always done their best to be involved in my life. I can appreciate that now, but it could feel oppressive sometimes when I was a kid. When most of the adults in your family are involved in law enforcement, they are well-versed in the bad things that can happen in the world and can be overprotective at times." He decided to relieve a little of the tension in the car by telling one of the family's favorite stories about him. "That's why I once ran away from home."

Brandy glanced at him before turning back to the road. "I ran away once. But I couldn't get myself to cross the street without an adult, so I ended up circling the block a couple of times before giving up and coming home. I think I was six or seven."

"I was eleven going on thirty. My sisters had gone to college the previous fall and I was the only kid left at home. I didn't know it at the time, but my parents and uncles were working a hard case, and the stress and the people they were dealing with made them worry even more about us kids. We couldn't go anywhere or do much of anything and they wouldn't tell us why they had suddenly changed our routines."

He paused his story to give Brandy a few more directions on where they were going. Gazing out the window he continued the tale. "I thought I could deal with it until my sisters came home for the summer. They were usually good about hanging out with me when they could, despite the age difference. But then I was told that they had both decided to stay at school over the summer to keep the jobs they had found there and take a couple of summer courses. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper."

Brandy smiled. "Threw a temper tantrum, did you?

"No," he responded a little indignantly. "I don't throw tantrums. My family will attest to that. No, I plan my battles around any and all obstacles. Shayna was in on it and was going to come with me, but she chickened out at the last second. In the middle of the night, I snuck out of the house and made my way to the airport. A few hours later I was knocking on the door of my sister Ella's dorm room and needless to say, she was surprised to see me." It was amazing how those old memories could come back so easily with such clarity and yet he still couldn't recall the last six months.

"I'll bet. You managed to get on a plane by yourself? Where was your sister going to college at the time?"

"The University of Illinois." He grinned at Brandy's look. "Yeah, it was a bit of a trip. Like I said, it took some planning, including figuring out how to get money using one of my parents' credit cards, but I pulled it off."

"You must have scared them half to death," Brandy said, obviously a little incredulous at what he had pulled off.

"They didn't really have time to be scared. I showed up at Ella's before they had even figured out I was gone." He rubbed his bad shoulder with his right hand trying to ease a little of the ache he was feeling. "My Uncle Mac likes to say that's when he first knew I would go into a profession like the SEALs that would utilize my skills. But I'm glad the enemies can't learn detection skills from my parents. I think this is the first time I've been able to slip away from them without notice since that trip back when I was eleven."

"I wouldn't blame them." Her eyes widened as all of his words seemed to register. "Wait, your parents don't know what we're doing? How about your sister?"

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"Ella? No, she doesn't know either. You're the only one." He pointed ahead to where he wanted her to turn and she realized they were heading to the big convention center near where the New York Giants and Jets played. She had always thought it odd that New York teams would play in a different state, but that was neither here nor there. Right now she had to consider the pickle that Devon Messer had gotten her into.

She didn't regret helping him out, but she was dreading how Ell Messer was going to react to it. Brandy had a feeling that the agent wouldn't respond lightly to the situation. Navy SEAL or not, Devon was still the woman's baby brother. Maybe Brandy could defend herself somewhat if she at least knew why they were there. "What's going on at the convention center that you want to be there for?"

He was kept from responding as they pulled into the convention center's parking lot and were stopped by an attendant looking to collect the parking fee. As Brandy reached into her purse, a wallet landed in her lap. She looked up at Devon. "I can cover the parking fee."

"Show the man my ID," Devon advised her. "I have a feeling we'll get a discount."

She opened the wallet to see his military ID card showing rather than the customary driver's license. Doing as he asked, she brought down the driver's side window and showed the ID to the attendant.

The man looked at it, then glanced over at Devon, his eyes taking in the sling. "Navy SEAL? You squids are always getting hurt one way or another."

Brandy was shocked at the man's comments, but Devon just rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Marine?"

The other man smiled. "Yeah." He quoted a price to Brandy that was half what the sign nearby said it should be. She pulled out the money needed and handed it to the man. He nodded off to his left towards the convention center. "You guys can park over in the handicapped area. I think there are still some spots left. Otherwise you'll have to park practically a mile away." By the look of the parking lot the attendant's assessment wasn't much of an exaggeration.

"We don't have a sticker or anything with us," Devon told the man, obviously bristling at being thought of as handicapped.

"I'll let the other attendants know that you're okay." He stuck a piece of paper on their dashboard so it would be visible through their windshield. "Take the space, kid. I can see you're favoring your hip a little and you really don't want to walk that far." The man walked away and Brandy brought the window back up while sending a questioning look in Devon's direction.

He sighed heavily. "Take the handicapped space. I suppose I should take advantage of this kind of thing while it lasts," he tried to joke.

She didn't comment and did as he said. They parked and headed into the convention center. Once inside, Brandy suddenly realized that Devon might have had another reason for calling her besides keeping the trip from the rest of his family. "You brought me to a gun show?"

He smirked as he scanned the huge space. "I thought you would be in heaven at one of these things. I'm betting you get all excited at the sight of so many weapons." He headed off to the right like he had spotted what he had been looking for and Brandy followed him.

"Maybe if I knew and trusted all of these people. But a lot of those who buy and/or sell guns at things like this are not the kind of people I'm comfortable with." It wasn't an unusual opinion in law enforcement. Many civilians thought that because cops and agents carried guns that they must really like them and appreciate the joy others got out of them. Some, like her friend Elise, would even think that law enforcement were a little too into their guns. But Brandy knew that more law enforcement personnel than Elise would think didn't actually enjoy guns. They saw the weapons as a necessary part of their job and would become proficient with them where necessary, but they didn't relish the training or ever having to draw the weapon on the job and they certainly didn't go the range to shoot for fun. Brandy was somewhere in between that view and those who really did enjoy shooting guns. She appreciated, and yes, even sometimes enjoyed the feeling of a powerful weapon in her hands and what it felt like to shoot it. But she never shot one outside of the lab or the range and she wasn't comfortable with the idea of civilians having them. She didn't just analyze rifling characteristics, she was sometimes called on to analyze things like a bullet's trajectory, including when a bullet traveled through a human being, and how it would react. She knew all about the power of these weapons and the destruction they could cause, and so she didn't take something like gun shows lightly.

Devon glanced over at her. "I hear you. But I know someone here who might be able to get us some information on those guns you've been analyzing, and he wouldn't have been especially receptive to any of my family members asking the questions."

Her eyes widened. "Why? Does he have a reason to be wary of the government?"

"Yes, but not for the reasons you're obviously thinking of. He used to be in the Navy. That's where I met him. He was actually the guy who taught me a lot of what I know about weapons. But a few things he went through made him bitter about government control in general, the federal government in particular, so while he'll talk to me and help if he can, he wouldn't have said a word to my sisters. In fact, let's not mention where you work if we can help it."

Great, this was just great. What in the world had she let him drag her into?