Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun
Rated T for violence and language
The Seventh Trumpet
Chapter Twelve
An Acceptable Percentage of Loss
The frantic rush to the airport was the longest drive of Don Eppes' life, bar none. It seemed never ending. The always insane L.A. traffic was ten times worse than he had ever seen it— at least it appeared that way to the desperate agent. If he hadn't known better, Don would have sworn they were actually traveling backwards a few times and was the entire damned freeway system under construction? He now understood why someone might become so impossibly frustrated and infuriated with the road conditions, that they would opt to pull out a gun and start shooting at the brain dead cretins that cut them off or blocked their way despite the obvious blare of the siren and flashing lights from the SUV. Don swore more than once during that wild journey, leaning out the window, expletives flying and threatening to charge everyone within earshot with interfering in the duties of a federal officer. It was an empty threat, but it was a less extreme option than pulling out his Glock and taking out the idiot's tires!
As they approached the airport, the demented situation only intensified. It was doubly exacerbated by Donovan's demanding voice barking rapid fire directions in his ear, sending them to a part of the complex totally unfamiliar to the FBI agent. Don had never wanted to clock a man more! Soon the madness eased a little as the heavy traffic trickled down to almost zero. At Mike's instructions, they drove across a dark, all but deserted runway towards eight cars parked by an open hanger. He could see the silhouettes of several aircraft. People milled about and two men stood beside a town car parked apart from the rest and almost hidden in the shadows, watching the others. Don's trained eye recognized the car as being the same one that had picked David and him up at his apartment what now seemed like a century ago. They pulled up beside the car, screeched to a halt and all of them quickly piled from the SUV.
A tall, lean man in his mid-thirties, dressed in full camouflage, with a forty-five strapped to his waist left the Colonel's side and approached the team. He removed his cover and tucked it under his arm. His sandy blond hair was cut in a precise high and tight. His smile was just as exacting as his recently clipped hair and contained not one ounce of genuine warmth. Giving a formal nod to their group, he shouted so he could be heard above the near earsplitting whine of helicopter engines firing up as they were meticulously checked for take-off, "Gentleman, I'm 1st Lt. Paul Edmonson, aide to Colonel Harrington." He shook hands first with Don, and then with David and Colby, as brief introductions were made. "We're almost ready. The ground troops are on their way as per your request, Donovan. We have two Blackhawks good to go. Delaney sent the coordinates so as soon as the ground crew gives us the nod; we'll be on our way. The Colonel and I will be in Chopper One, you and your crew will take Chopper Two."
Mike frowned and looked over the Lieutenant's shoulder at the man standing straight as an arrow, his hands clasped behind his back. "He's going with us?" He sounded doubtful.
"Is that a problem, Gunnery Sergeant?" The aide's pale eyes turned ice blue.
"No sir, of course it's not a problem, Lieutenant. He usually doesn't accompany us on missions. Neither do you, for that matter." Donovan raised his eyebrows. "I just find it odd, that's all."
"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," the aide smirked and looked past Donovan. "I believe we are set to go gentleman; until we reach the target area, fly safe." He nodded and ran back to the Colonel.
The team quickly followed Mike past the cars and ground crew, running onto the tarmac to a waiting black helicopter. An emblem consisting of a viper ready to strike, its fangs bared and dripping venom, entwined around six crossed lightning bolts covered its nose. The door slid open and a man wearing a helmet cheerfully greeted Donovan and nodded at the team. The marine climbed on board first with Don following. Colby was next, but he hesitated.
"Now I know you're not afraid to fly, Granger, get in!" David shouted above the din of the first Blackhawk, which was rising into the sky.
"Sinclair, I'm well acquainted with Blackhawks. We used to have a saying about these damned things. If something on your helicopter ain't broke now, just wait awhile. I KNOW how they work. When I left the military, I swore I'd never trust my ass to one of the goddamned pieces of shit again!" The young FBI agent yelled.
Don leaned out the door, "Granger, stop being such a big baby and get on board! We don't have time for this!"
Colby groaned and reluctantly crawled in with a laughing David right behind him. Donovan helped them find their places and handed each of them earphones to protect their ears from the noise. Then taking a seat by the pilot, he pulled a helmet over his closely sheared head and shouted, "We are clear for takeoff, so hang on and don't worry, my buddy Will here has only dropped one of these babies out of sky, isn't that right Will?"
"There was that other thing in Fallujah, Gunny," Will said as he expertly maneuvered the chopper into the crowded night sky.
"Oh yeah, I forgot about Fallujah. That one damned near got you court-martialed, didn't it?" Mike said laughing. "Okay, he's only dropped TWO of these things out of the sky and mostly everyone survived, right?" He looked at the pilot.
"I might have lost a couple of guys, Gunny, but they dissed my fine Darlene here so I didn't care much for 'em. They don't count that's my way of thinking. Shit, they made me fail my last psych evaluation, the bastards." The pilot answered. "I'm still a bit bothered by that shell fragment that hit my left arm. It's kind of stiff. I don't have peripheral vision and I can't see at night for shit, but besides that, I'm good."
"Since we're a private security organization, we can be a bit more lack than the Corp." Mike explained to the team. "We can use great pilots like my man Will here even with that eye thing and the arm thing, oh yeah, and the knee thing from a jump that went bad. The fact he's touched in the head just helps him fit in with the rest of us. The Corp grounded him two years ago, but we snatched him right up. Slightly damaged stock is a little cheaper and we do have a budget. But hell, just sit back and relax, Granger, Bob Marley said it best, don't worry about a thing. "
Suddenly a formally cocky David Sinclair was quiet and looking decidedly worried. Colby covered his eyes with one hand and lowered his head, muttering, "Fuck!" over and over again under his breath.
Mike Donovan and Will Jennet glanced at each other and grinned. Both men were in top condition and the pilot had never lost a chopper or a man in his fifteen years of flying. He was both a helicopter mechanic and one of the best pilots in the world. Harrington would recruit nothing less. Mike had trusted this man with his life many times and he chose him personally for this mission. The two ex-marines simply took a little sadistic pleasure in scaring 'virgins'. It was an unofficial initiation into their dangerous world and it broke the tension. Mike glanced back at Don. The senior agent had seen the looks that passed between the two experienced men. He shook his head and a small smile touched his lips as he looked at his friends practically quaking in their seats.
Don Eppes sat in contemplative silence for the rest of the trip. He knew this was it. For good or ill, the nightmare would soon be over. Tonight they would find Charlie alive or they would recover his body. Either way, his little brother was coming home. The idea that they would not find him at all, that Charlie would remain lost to him was impossible to accept. He closed his eyes and for the rest of the flight, he replayed the last three horrific days over in his mind. He thought of his team, of Mike Donovan of Tom Addison and everyone else who had tried so hard or offered their prayers to help him find his brother. No matter how the night ended, they would forever be in his heart. He thought of his father, so blissfully ignorant of this entire situation. If worse came to worse, would his dad forgive him for not bringing him home the minute Charlie was abducted. Don tried to put himself in his father's shoes and the answer was—no.
"Copy that Chopper One." Mike said into his mouthpiece, his voice jerking Don out of his reverie. "We are nearly at our objective so get ready." Mike shouted over the noise of the helicopter. "It's night and it'll be difficult to make out anything on the ground from up here even with the spotlights. We're going to come in low and…WAIT! What the hell is that?" Mike yelled, "Chopper One, do you see that glow to your left?" Everyone looked in the direction Mike indicated. "That's one hell of a fire! Head that way…Copy Chopper One." Mike looked back at the team. "Whether they meant to or not, someone lit up a welcome sign letting us know exactly where to go. It's about time something went right with this fucked up mess." Mike muttered checking his sidearm making sure it was ready.
All of their hearts were pounding as adrenaline surged through their veins. This was that brief interval they all knew so well, whether it was the FBI agents preparing to raid an armed felon's hideout or a professional soldier raiding a terrorist outpost, it was the same for both; those last few quiet moments before all hell breaks loose. Each one handled it in a different way, taking their own individual paths in setting their minds on what they were trained to do and letting the natural fear that never completely goes away do its job. At times like this, fear was your friend. It gave you your edge. If you ever lost it, you got careless and you got yourself or your buddy killed. All of them knew in the backs of their minds, that this could be the mission that, despite the training, the precautions and the bulletproof vests, a bullet could find its mark. This could be the last mission for one or more of them.
There was no sound now except for the occupants controlled breathing and the noise created by the Blackhawk its self. The chopper flew fast and low, the downwash of the blades kicking up dust and debris from the desert floor causing everything on the ground to all but disappear in a thick soup. For a second Mike thought he detected movement a klick to his right, but it went by too quickly for him to discern exactly what he saw. It could have been a pack of coyotes or nothing at all. He saw a high wall built of stones and a large house less than a half a klick ahead and coming up fast. Flames shot from a building behind it, illuminating the night with an eerie reddish orange glow. The chopper stopped its forward motion, hovered for a moment then landed. He shoved the door open and, crouching low, Mike hit the ground running, his gun at the ready. He did not look back, but he was sure the team was following suit. Except for Granger, they had no military experience whatsoever, but he hoped their FBI training would serve them well. In any case, he had no time to babysit 'civilians'.
The quiet, still desert was suddenly alive with organized chaos. Mike was aware of Don and his team right at his heels, weapons drawn as they skirted the wall, moving towards a locked gate. The marine shot the lock and kicked at the rusted metal bars. The door creaked as it swung open. His eyes scanned the area looking for anything that moved, for any shadow that did not belong, all the while reporting his status and listening to his crew through the earwigs they all wore. They rushed past the side of the house, ducking low and checking any windows from which an attack could come. They moved towards the flames as quickly as caution allowed. Don's heart sank in horror as he saw what remained of the scaffolding. Its purpose was obvious. This was a place of execution. He felt David squeeze his shoulder.
"There's no smell of burning flesh." Donovan said quietly to no one in particular. "Believe me; we'd know if it was here."
Don took a quick gulp of air and nodded. Then he saw the dark stains soaked into the dirt not fifteen feet from the burning scaffold. He knelt and gingerly touched it with his little finger. "Still sticky," he said looking up at Mike, but the marine was not there.
Mike Donovan barely saw the blood stains. His well trained eyes had latched on to something a few feet away. He saw the newly dug grave and the scrub and rocks had been disturbed. Firewood lay scattered about and just past that, a shovel lay in the dirt. Mike picked it up and examined the blood and hair on the jagged metal edge. The hair was long, straight and white, obviously not Charlie's. He smiled. So the little guy got his knocks in after all, he thought. Good for you, Professor, good for you!"
He knelt and checked the ground. There had been a struggle here very recently, too recently in fact, for the wind to have erased the signs, or for the blood to have dried; a struggle that probably occurred within the last hour. His senses were alive! He saw the jumbled footprints of at least two men, one large and one considerably smaller. He stood, dropping the shovel as his eyes focused on a trail so faint only a well trained tracker could detect it, a trail that led him towards the high wall.
Donovan quickly followed. He let his gaze run slowly up the stones. There he saw the tiniest smear of blood someone had left at the top as they escaped. He remembered the impression of movement as the chopper flew low and Mike knew where he had to go! With one jump he was over the wall and dropping down the other side. He charged through the night as swift and agile as a great cat, ignoring any attempts to contact him through the earwig. He wasn't sure if Agent Eppes was still following or not. He didn't give a shit. When he was on the hunt, Mike was a single-minded creature. His only drive was the chase, his only desire, his quarry. If Eppes did not follow, it was not his responsibility.
The marine ran towards the horizon, that solid line where the night sky met the moonlit desert. Slowly a small distant figure came into view, a silhouette in the moonlight. He was standing, arms outstretched as if waiting for a blessing from the heavens. He had at long last found Charlie! Mike saw meteors streak across the sky and disappear. He ran faster when he saw Charlie stood poised at the edge of an abyss and he realized his dark intensions. He cursed whatever god might allow this to happen, for them to have fought so hard, to have come so far only to lose him when he was at arm's length.
"Charlie!" He shouted as the figure grew larger. "Charlie, NOOOOO!" And he was on him. Charlie had turned towards the voice shouting his name, but not seem to recognize him.
"Oh God please, just let me go!" It was the plea of a man too broken to go on. "It is done." He said softly, his words a final benediction.
"I won't do that!" Mike slowly reached for Charlie, not wanting to cause him to panic and fall.
"But you're only a dream!" Charlie had cried and yelled as the loose ground gave way under him.
Arms as strong as steel cables grabbed him just as the rocks and sand collapsed under his weight. Arms lifted him, and staggered backwards, pulling him away from the precipice, denying him his mother, denying him Ashley, denying him peace. He screamed and blindly thrashed with his fists and feet at the monster who held him. He fought like a cornered wild animal struggling to be free, pushing both of them towards the crumbling edge of the abyss. He would not be captured. He would not allow himself to be taken back to that nightmare for slaughter. If he had to die, he was not going alone. He would take this bastard with him. They would both find hell on this night.
"Charlie, stop!" Mike Donovan managed to adjust his grip on the panicked, smaller man, pinning his arms firmly to his side, he pulled him away from the sharp drop-off. "Stop fighting me! No one is going to hurt you anymore!"
But the mathematician was beyond listening. He was in a blind frenzy and possessed by pure rage. Mike had seen this before. A young, raw recruit seeing heavy action for the first time lost it under heavy fire, endangering himself and everyone around him. He had slugged the recruit bringing him around. That was the last thing the marine wanted to do here, but he had to get through to Charlie and fast. He had to make him stop fighting before he hurt the both of them.
"EPPES!" He held Charlie firmly by the upper arms, knowing he was hurting him and not caring. This was no time to be gentle. Both their lives were at stake. He got full in the professor's face and barked in his loudest no nonsense USMC gunnery sergeant voice, the same voice that had once made the men under his command 'jump to' without hesitation or question. "EPPES, YOU WILL CEASE THIS BULLSHIT RIGHT NOW!"
Charlie seemed stunned. He no longer fought the man holding him. He reached out, clutching Mike's jacket. "You're dead. I saw you—he killed you!" Charlie whispered, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He lowered his head in resignation. The mathematician shivered, shaking his head. The arms that held him fast were gentle, but uncompromising. He was too terrified to open his eyes and look once again into the face of evil.
"Look at me." It was a command, not a request. "Charlie, look at me!"
Slowly Charlie's eyes opened and locked on a face he thought he would never see again in this life time. "I thought he killed…" He muttered, gripping the marine's arms.
"Naw, he just inconvenienced me a little." Mike Donovan smiled, loosening his grip on Charlie just enough to talk into the microphone clipped to the neck of his tee shirt. "Eppes, I have your brother about two klicks west of your location. He's alive." He said. "Great, see you soon." He tightened his grip on Charlie and moved him farther from the edge of the ravine. "Your brother is already on his way." He said gently.
Mike closed his eyes for a second. He was staggered by knowledge that the professor was going to jump to his death. What horrendous things must have happened to him to drive him to even consider suicide? He looked into the battered face. He clinched his teeth. His promise held. He would track the bastard to ends of the earth and make him pay for this. He felt the smaller man trembling in his arms and heard him gasp when he touched his upper arm. "I'm sorry kid—I didn't mean to hurt you." He said.
"Charlie, you're freezing! Here," Mike removed his camouflage jacket and slipped it on his friend. He smiled as he rolled up the sleeves a couple of times. "This one is way too big for you. When we get back, I'll get you one in your size."
"Aren't you going to be cold now?" Charlie asked, concerned.
"Son, I've slept in…"
"…A snow bank with nothing but a chunk of ice for a pillow." Charlie completed.
"Still have that smart mouth, I see." He laughed and nodded towards the dog sitting a few feet away silently watching. "Who's your friend?"
"His name was Cocidius, but I call him Larry. He sort of looks like Larry." About that time the dog growled and let out a sharp, demanding, no nonsense bark. "But he sounds exactly like Don." Charlie sighed and looked at Mike. "I promised him we'd take him with us. We always keep our promises." Charlie said softly.
"And we never leave anyone behind." Mike hugged Charlie a little tighter. "Ahh, one question, Dr. Eppes, besides making promises to dogs, did you happen to have set that fire?" Mike looked towards the red glow and billowing smoke.
"Sometimes extreme circumstances call for extreme measures, right?" Charlie said cutting his eyes away from the marine.
Mike nodded. Indeed they did.
"But if I'm in trouble, I have no idea what fire you're talking about." Charlie quickly added.
"Hell, I don't see no stinking fire." Mike added.
"OOORAHH" Charlie said softly.
"OOORAHH," Mike responded, ruffling Charlie's unkempt hair. "Hey, here's someone I know you want to see." He nodded towards a familiar figure.
Don Eppes felt as if he were waking from a long and terrible nightmare. He stood a short distance from his brother almost afraid to move, almost afraid Charlie would crumble to dust if he touched him. He covered his mouth with a trembling hand and then slowly, tenderly he drew Charlie into his arms and held him, stroking his hair, feeling his own tears running down his cheeks and feeling Charlie's on his neck as he buried his face in his big brother's shoulder for a while, saying nothing, just wrapping his arms around Don's waist and holding on as tightly as he could.
"I'm afraid that I'm dreaming you again and that I'll wake up back…" His voice was shaking when he at last spoke.
Don gently lifted his brother's head and putting his hands on either side of his face, he looked into the dark, haunted eyes. "Charlie, it's okay. I'm here. This isn't a dream. You're safe now. Just lean on me and I'll take care of you." He touched the tears running down his brother's cheeks. "I love you, little brother. You know that, don't you? You know I love you." His voice broke with emotion.
Charlie looked up into the velvet sky as three meteors blazed their way to oblivion. "I guess I don't have to disappear." He whispered.
"What?" Don asked, confused.
"Nothing, it's just an old dream." Charlie sighed. "Don, I think I got blood on your jacket and I feel kind of weird."
Don felt his brother's forehead and frowned. He was burning up. "I don't give a shit about the damned jacket. It belongs to the Bureau anyway. Charlie, you have a fever, and you're hurt. We're going to get you to the hospital."
"I just need to go home. If I can take a couple of Aleve's and lie down on my own bed, I'll be fine. I don't want…Don, I don't feel so good." The rush of adrenaline and endorphins that had masked his physical pain and given him strength subsided. Weakness crashed down on his head like a giant wave. He had reached the end of the road and could go no farther, not even one step. He didn't even have the strength left to stand.
The night had begun to shimmer and his knees were buckling. He was gently lowered to the ground. Don's arms wrapped around him and cradled him against his body, as he gently whispered, "Hang on, buddy, it's going to be okay. I'm here. I'll take care of you."
"So cold, so tired and it hurts! God, it really hurts." Charlie muttered, and touched his brother's face. "Love you, Donnie." He felt Don's grip tighten and a sweet, long forgotten sense of comfort and safety filled him as his big brother rocked him back and forth. 'Now all I need is for him to read The Cat in the Hat.' He thought as he drifted into the dark.
oooooooooooooo
Charlie woke in a hospital bed to a cool hand on his forehead. He felt like he was on fire. He tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt too much. Breathing at all hurt. His entire body ached, even his hands. He opened his eyes and saw his brother smiling at him. Don was muttering something about his arm being infected and his needing surgery. He had six cracked ribs and his body was a mass of bruises and contusions. He tried to listen, but Don's voice kept echoing and was hard to understand. Charlie wanted to laugh, because Don kept morphing into that rabbit from Donnie Darko."You have funny ears, Don!" Charlie whispered and let the black take him again.
For a full day Charlie drifted between fever driven dreams, unconsciousness and delirium. He stood among shooting stars, ran through a cool meadow with Ashley at his side and a large fawn colored dog at his heels. He thought his mother was calling him, telling him he needed to wake up now and help his brother and he fought, he constantly fought a monster made of fire and blood. He would wake screaming to find his brother always there, always comforting him. Then he would let sleep take him. For the first time in forever, he was not afraid of sleep.
"Charlie, Charlie can you hear me?" The voice was gentle, but insistent. "Buddy, please wake up and talk to me."
He opened his eyes to find his older brother leaning over him. Don looked tired, but relieved but at least Don was Don. "I thought you turned into a really scary rabbit." Charlie said weakly.
"Damn, little brother, how about sharing some of those drugs they have you on!" Don laughed and squeezed Charlie's wrist. "I've been very worried about you. We all have."
Charlie nodded. "I don't remember how I got here. I just remember escaping and running. I was on a hill somewhere. I was so tired, Don. I just wanted to fly away and…" And he remembered what his intensions had been. Another second and Don would be planning a funeral.
Don's face was pale. "You were hurt and very sick. You passed out. Mike carried you to the helicopter. Do you remember that at all?"
Charlie felt himself blush at memory of the marine scooping him up like a child and carrying him! He had a vague memory of the copter ride, of resting his head on Don's shoulder. He thought Larry had been there because David had asked him if he was sure that the animal was really a dog, but he was so out of it, he could have been dreaming. "I'm not sure." He whispered.
"It doesn't matter. The doctors say it'll all come back in time. Right now you need rest." Don had brushed an errant curl out of his brother's eyes. "At any rate, I'm going to be here to look after you. You don't have to be afraid, Charlie." He squeezed his brother's hand then he smiled. "Hey, you have so damned many flowers they can't even fit them all in. I told them to give the over flow to people with no flowers and the stuffed toys to the kids ward. I kept the cards so you can write thank you notes. I hope that was okay."
Charlie nodded his head. "It's fine Don. It's what I would have done."
Don shook his head. "You know some pretty wild people, Charlie! I had no idea my little bro was so popular!" Don grinned. At least Charlie had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "Do you feel up to a little company? Everyone is down the hall and they all want to see you."
"Yeah, I'd really like that. How do you raise the back of this stupid bed? I hate being flat on my back." Charlie fumbled with the controls until Don took them from his bandaged hands and adjusted the bed himself until his brother was comfortable.
The team had invaded the room shortly after, each hugging him in turn. He thanked them all, knowing his words were inadequate, but he tried. Larry Fleinhardt stood back, waiting to be last. He looked a little nervous and bewildered. He hugged his former student and closest friend and Charlie reassured him over and over again that he was going to be fine. Soon friendly, familiar chatter filled the air. David regaled everyone with a vivid description of Colby and the Blackhawk, complete with a dead on impression of him covering his face with his hands and muttering 'Fuck' every few seconds.
"He's exaggerating!" The younger agent insisted, red to his ears.
"No, he's not." Don laughed. "I thought you were going to get airsick and you gave up your seat to Charlie and 'volunteered' to ride back in a car so fast that no one else had a chance to offer."
"Charlie, don't believe them, they're making the whole thing up." Granger laughed, "Besides if you people knew what I know about the damned things, you'd never set foot in one. And you, Agent Sinclair got pretty quiet yourself after Mike and Will put on their little show for us."
Not long after a nurse came in to tell them they had too many people in the room, they were making too much noise and they had to leave. Dr. Eppes needed rest. One by one they left, the girls giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek and telling him to hurry up and get well. He was needed. How could the FBI possibly go on without his little stories about how math helps to solve crimes?
It was after the last of the team left and the room was quiet that Don leaned over his brother. "Hey, buddy, I'm going to run home and get a shower and some fresh clothes before they hose me off in the parking lot. I promise I'll be back later. Donovan's going to look after you until then." Don had said, tucking the blanket in around his brother, obviously reluctant to leave him.
"Don, you look worn out. You need to get some sleep. I'll be fine. Get some rest and some food and come back tomorrow." Charlie said real concern in his voice.
"I'll be back later." Don repeated and patted his shoulder. He smiled at Mike, who had been leaning against the door jamb, "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets some rest." He said as he left.
"Prof. Eppes, you look like hell." Mike said as he plopped himself down on the edge of the bed. "Here, I brought you a present." He sat a large box on Charlie's lap. "I tried smuggling in a fifth of J.D. but that nurse that looks like Eddie Izzard found it. Bet she'll drink it herself later. She looks like a woman who can hold her booze. Wonder if she's attached?"
"Should I be afraid?" The mathematician asked as he took the top off the box. He looked at his friend.
"As promised, official camos in your size; even had your name put on the jacket just like us big soldiers. Here…" he took the utility style cover and put it on Charlie's head. "Hummm, I'm not sure about the cover and your hair. I have a great barber. He could take care of that."
"You pay someone for that?" Charlie said looking at Mike's sheared head and cringing, pretending to be amazed.
"Hey, he could give you a nice trim and make you look like a true Devil Dog."
"I don't think that's possible." Charlie smiled.
"Sure it is, a little weight training to bulk up those arms, a nice high and tight and you'd fit right in." Mike lifted the hat and ruffled the curls.
"It'll never happen and leave the hair alone. The ladies think it's cute." Charlie chuckled.
"Yeah, girls are partial to cute little yappy things with puppy dog eyes and curly hair." Mike laughed.
"Mike, I…" Charlie started to say.
"Shit, Eppes we don't need words, we're brothers, Charlie, Fer de Lance. We look after our own." Mike put the cover back in the box and sat the gift on the chair by the window.
"Charlie, Harrington, is he Azariah?" Mike asked quietly as he turned around and faced his friend.
"No, no he isn't, but there's something not right there." Charlie said.
"Understood." Mike sat in the chair next to the bed."I could advise you to get out, Dr. Eppes, get out before something worse happens but I don't suppose you'd do that."
Charlie said nothing.
"That's what I thought." Mike nodded and smiled slightly. "You are a very complicated man, my friend."
"And you still look like Randy Orton, my friend." Charlie said with a sly grin. "Mike, what about Larry? Did he make it? I did make a promise." He asked suddenly serious.
"I assume you're talking about the four footed Larry and not Fleinhardt. He's fine. He's with my buddy, Will. He knows how to handle dogs like that. I have a couple of more permanent solutions but we can discuss that later. Right now, your friend is in canine heaven. We should be so lucky."
Charlie nodded, relieved to know the creature was safe and being cared for. After the life he must have led with Hicks, he deserved to be happy.
"You know, Eppes, if you're going to stay in and do what I think you're going to do, you will need a partner. I happen to be in the market for a new one at the moment." Mike leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Really—what makes you think I need a partner? I've never had one before." Charlie crossed his arms, mirroring the marine.
Mike narrowed his gray eyes, "Because I'm your partner, Eppes and that is that. I have a gut feeling you are planning on getting in way over your adorable curly head and will need someone like me to rein you in."
"Fine, I guess I have a partner." he smiled."Do we get code names? I always wanted a code name."
"Of course we do, and we get decoder rings and invisible ink to write secret messages to each other."
"So, what's my code name? I think it should be something cool." Charlie laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head.
"How about Black Hawk, I mean you were rescued in a Blackhawk helicopter and you do have dark hair and… "
"And…?" Charlie asked with a sinister tone to his voice.
"Well, there is your nose…" Mike smiled. "It is sort of…"
"You know I have a knowledge of chemistry and access to things that can go boom if put together in the correct order. I also have the knowledge to make things go boom in a way that no one will ever suspect it was anything but an accident." Charlie said nonchalantly.
Mike laughed, but Charlie's expression never changed.
"You know, guarding you, Dr. Eppes was a very interesting experience. I think working with you is going to be, well, anything but dull."
"Hey, I have the perfect code names," Charlie cocked his head to one side. He did his best cartoon Russian accent. "How about Moose and Squirrel."
Mike laughed and rubbed his eyes. "Perfect!" he said shaking his head.
oooooooooooooooooooooo
"Colonel, I checked with the hospital. Eppes is to be released tomorrow morning. His brother and Donovan are picking him up. I believe Donovan plans to stay with him for a week or so." Lt. Paul Edmonson said as he entered his superior's office.
"As to be expected. Glad to hear the good Dr. Eppes is on the mend." The older man looked up from the papers on his desk. He picked up a file and handed it to his aide. "Have a seat and take a look at this. Tell me what you think. This is a little project I've been working on. It's still about six months away, but the wheels are in motion."
Edmonson read through the folder carefully. "You want Eppes for this? He's hardly trained for this kind of assignment."
"Exactly—that's why he's the one I want. I've already recruited a Dr. Steven Davis from Stanford. He and Charlie actually know each other I believe." Harrington placed his folded hands on his desk.
"What makes you think Eppes would go for something like this?" Edmonson asked. "You know, he's no longer that naïve, idealist nineteen year old boy you recruited."
"No, he isn't, but he still wants to do his part to save the world and now he knows just how rocky that road is." He leaned forward. "Seeds have been planted, Paul, seeds have been planted. We just need to give them time to bear fruit." He smiled. "The full impact of this has not hit Charlie yet, but it soon will. He'll soon realize all he's lost and all he'll never be able to get back. His nose has been rubbed in the reality of the things he's done. He was forced to take a good hard look at his life and I don't think he's going to be able to just pick up the pieces and carry on like nothing happened." The old man grinned. "Not even that precious family of his will be able to help him. He's gonna wish he hadn't survived." He leaned back.
"Colonel, Eppes and his brother are close, sir. I'm sure… "
"Divide and conquer, Lieutenant, divide and conquer."
"And Donovan?"
"Have you ever read the story of David and Bathsheba? David wanted her so badly he sent her husband, Uriah to the forefront of the battle and then pulled his troops back leaving the man to die. We send Donovan with Eppes on my little experiment. I doubt we could separate them anyway."
Edmonson sighed. "Any word on Hickman?" He asked.
"It's like he dropped off the face of the earth." Harrington shrugged. "Oh I'm sure he'll surface again. He'll lay low for a while, but a man like that, he never gives up until he either kills his prey or someone kills him."
Edmonson nodded. He stood and saluting his superior, he left the office. He closed the door behind him and for a moment he smiled. The hound had gone to ground and for now would remain safely out of sight. But some day, when the time was right, he'd return and the hunt would resume. He clasped his hands behind his back and humming Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, the Lieutenant walked to his car.
TBC