I just thought this might be a good moment to say another thanks to my beta Starfishyeti who's helping me a lot with everything that concerns the English language. Thank you so much!

20 – CHAPTER TWENTY – 1.162²°

"Did you... have you already found out something?"

Charlie scrutinized his brother with a hint of mistrust. Don's arm was still lying around his shoulders, but all of a sudden the younger Eppes wasn't that sure anymore if this gesture meant protection or imprisonment.

"Do you really want to know?"

For God's sake, Charlie could really ask silly questions! Don wasn't sure if he was going to want to know.

Don's arm left his brother's shoulders when he needed it to hold his head. None of this made sense; nothing was right, there was no correct solution. So how was he supposed to make a decision?

"You've already found out, haven't you?" he asked the mathematician for verification, sounding exhausted. Making decisions wasn't that easy anymore, especially as he was finding it difficult to gather together his racing thoughts. on top of that it wasn't when one wasn't convinced of the result of his hurried considering thoughts. "So, just tell me."

Charlie swallowed. "It isn't really much," he confessed. "I've been... I was a bit distracted every now and then."

Who's surprised? Don thought bitterly.

"But as I said," Charlie continued, "Max Bolshoyov seems to be the big mafia's boss, and Dimitrij Kalinkov the branch-mafia's. I've got no proof for that; it's just a pattern. Maybe I've been on the wrong track all along, I don't know... At present I don't even know if I'm only imagining all the connections."

Solemnly, Don looked at his brother. Oh no, he didn't like this at all. He held his lips closed tightly while wondering about how to treat Charlie. The big brother instinct was fighting for supremacy, though it didn't know what to do and so had to give control to the federal agent. "What else?" Don asked further, his gaze nonetheless worried. "What about this Chrushtchov? Who is this guy?"

"It seems he belongs to the main mafia. Upper middle-class, one of Bolshoyov's confidantes. Your case files say that he's likely to be involved in quite a lot of big affairs, but that you could never put anything on him, as is usually the case with the mafia."

"So the guys that assaulted you were from the sub-mafia."

"I guess. They wanted to weaken Bolshoyov, maybe Kalinkov is taking it personally that –"

"Hang on, Kalinkov is the boss of the sub-mafia?"

Charlie nodded. "Exactly. Maybe he's taking it personally that Bolshoyov's big mafia shifted the blame onto him, or rather that this paid witness did so, this José Sanchez. In any case that doesn't necessarily mean that –"

"That a member of the sub-mafia killed Norvtcharov, I know."

They were silent for a moment, finding it difficult to get back into conversation.

In the end Don started anew at exactly the point were he always seemed to stop. "Listen, Charlie, I really don't want you to continue here. This thing's getting too dangerous."

Charlie sighed heavily, a more or less successful attempt to control the impatience and anger that dominated his emotions. "I know that. But these guys can control me. If I don't do what they tell me you and dad will have to pay for it."

"Dad is safe; they'll never find him at aunt Susann's –"

"But you aren't safe!"

For some moments Don didn't know what to say. He only looked into his brother's eyes; eyes that were wide with desperation and panic. Did his brother... did Charlie really mean that seriously? Was he really so much worried for Don that he preferred being threatened by the mafia to leaving him and his work back here?

Don was glad that he was already sitting, because all of a sudden he felt quite rotten. His brain was hot, he felt dizzy, and there was a huge mess in his stomach. Nonetheless, in a strange way he felt splendid.

"Charlie – I... nothing will happen to me. I'm with the FBI. Heavens, I've really been in more dangerous situations before."

Great, Charlie thought sarcastically. That's really going to calm me down. However, instead of exposing his weakness in front of his brother, Charlie concentrated on the logical error in Don's words. "That means that this thing here isn't as dangerous as you claim?"

"It is dangerous for you!"

"Now come on, Don, you were younger than I am when you started at the FBI –"

"But I've also been better trained!"

Charlie remained insistent. "I'm not that inexperienced either if you remember."

Don would have preferred to answer with a 'no'; in his current state of mind his brother didn't need to make allusions to his potentially dangerous secret missions on top of everything else.

Don felt trapped. If he forbade Charlie to stay they would again argue and in the end Charlie would get his way after all, whether he had Don's approval or not. Now if he allowed his brother to stay he himself would be responsible if something happened to him. He would be the one who would have to look in his father's eyes, confessing his own blame.

Stop that immediately.

Don had become sick. He didn't want to, he didn't want to imagine what could happen to Charlie. After all, why did he make such a thing about it? Charlie was here, safe and sound, he was fine, the mafia hadn't done anything to him...

But it was the mafia...

Don sighed, his breath trembling slightly. He hated speaking the following words out loud, and he hated himself that he did it. He had had to make a decision, though. "Okay. So stay here. Go on working on the case. But I want you under protection. After the assault we've got more than enough to justify it."

It was this thought that made seem everything almost bearable to Don. In a sick way the mafia's terrorization of his brother had had a positive effect.

However, Charlie contradicted his big brother again. "It can't be, Don. They'd notice."

Don stared at him, struggling for composure. "Are you trying to tell me that you want to stay here without any protection?"

Although he'd already guessed it, his brother's answer nearly blew Don off his feet.

"Yes."

When Charlie saw Don's expression, however, he let himself be carried away with a few more words. "Don, it's really better this way. In general we don't have any other possibilities. Just stop worrying. Nothing will happen to me, for sure."

It was again like in the dining room after their fight in the kitchen – déjà-vu. Back then, Don had decided to shun his brother, and they both had suffered from the situation; Charlie maybe as much as himself due to the mafia's assault that maybe he'd contributed to by staying away from the Craftsman. And had it done any good? Charlie had been assaulted and was being threatened, and Don would have had to lie to claim that he didn't feel guilty. Maybe the right decision was this that he would try to cope with the situation although this was far more difficult than fighting it.

"Okay," Don's voice was rough and hoarse as if the words didn't even want to leave his mouth, and he had to clear his throat. "If you really don't want to understand, then stay." Don noticed that his voice sounded unmistakably bitter, and he tried to cushion its effect with a smile. "I don't want to hear any complaints afterward, though."

He managed the smile only halfway. Don knew it because it was mirrored on his brother's face. "Likewise. I too don't want to hear any complaints when you're once more offended because I solved the case nearly on my own."

"Are we having an arrogant day today?"

Charlie's smile grew a little bit more genuine. Of course he was very aware that his consulting activity was only one amongst many tools the FBI used. However, admitting that would mean having to renounce on the currently so rare fun. "Maybe you are," he retorted, "but that wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary."

"Take good care of what you're saying," Don warned him, grinning, while with Charlie's half-heartedly resisting he ruffled his hair. "I'm still the eldest."

"Which means that you're really old. Old and frail and..."

"Old and wise. And still much stronger than you."

Charlie laughed indignantly. "No way! You're –"

He abruptly fell silent, his eyes widening. Within a second the atmosphere changed. Don followed his brother's fixed gaze, but couldn't detect anything worrying. There were still people strolling around in the park, most of them unknown; he knew some few of them from the neighborhood.

"What's up," he asked in a low voice while his eyes were still searching the place in front of them.

Charlie swallowed. "I thought... I thought that guy over there with the sunglasses... that he was one of the mobsters that kidnapped us. But I think... now I don't think he's it."

With a sharp gaze Don scrutinized a group of men some dozens of meters away. He knew who Charlie was talking about, but he too was quite sure that his brother had been wrong. And not only his brother. If Charlie was still that easily ruffled… maybe that meant that Don had made the wrong decision after all?

But then Don would maybe have to remove himself from the case.

They stood after a while and returned to their childhood home. Don laid his arm again around Charlie's shoulders. The simple gesture and the closeness to his little brother meant so much to him; he had to realize that, having missed it desperately during the latest couple of days.

In reality, they hadn't been that close for each other for a long time and not at all in former times. It was true that their relationship had improved during the last few years, however, after the end of Charlie's consulting career and the ado about the security clearance everything had seemed to be destroyed. Now it seemed the bond between them had grown even stronger perhaps due to the secret they now shared. They were sworn to each other and no one could harm them as long as they stuck together. Not even a bunch of mobsters.

The worries, however, didn't let themselves be banished. Don still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision, and would certainly continue to doubt it until they'd closed the case. If only he could make sure that his brother was safe...

"You've still got the firearm I got you, don't you?"

Charlie answered in the affirmative with an extreme lack of enthusiasm. Back then it hadn't been an easy task for Don to convince him of the necessity of an arm under his roof. Then one day Don had simply turned up in the Craftsman with the thing as if he brought them a weapon every day. In reality Charlie knew that he shouldn't have been surprised. Even high school kids could get such junk within a day, and after all Don was a federal agent. Nonetheless he had never wanted the thing in his home.

"I want you to keep it in your bedroom, so you can get it at any time. Of course it'd be better if you got yourself a license and carried it with you the whole time –"

"Forget it."

Don had expected that. And somehow he preferred his little brother walking through L.A. unarmed. "The main thing is that you're protected at home." He considered briefly. "Should I –" He fell silent and considered the matter a bit longer. After their most current arguments his proposal appeared to him pretty stupid. And still. "Should I come and live with you for a while?"

Charlie lifted his eyebrows briefly before he drew his gaze away again. "You've not been there recently."

Ouch. Could his brother maybe pay more attention next time to what he uttered so carelessly? You've not been there recently – what was that supposed to mean? Did Charlie feel himself let down?

Don answered the question for himself: his brother had recently been assaulted by the mafia – nothing had happened to him, physically, okay, but who said that the mafia wouldn't go further? After all his big brother hadn't shown up at the Craftsman for days. And had Charlie called him after it had happened?

Why not...?

The desire to care for his little brother and to make up for everything became so strong inside Don that he would nearly have done anything. But then what could he do if Charlie still wanted to maintain his distance from him? At least he could make sure that Charlie would be able to take care of himself... and maybe reminding him of who he had to thank for that. "If needed, the weapon is always there and available for you."

His brother's moan showed Don that he had said exactly the wrong thing. Don was really annoying Charlie. Could he just not stop reminding him of the damned thing?

"What?" Don asked again when Charlie stuck to an irritable silence.

The silence lasted another couple of seconds while Charlie wondered what he should say. How was he supposed to explain his brother that he in reality also would have preferred to have the weapon out of his house?

"Did you know that a weapon kept at home is thirty-three times more likely to be used to shoot someone you know rather than a complete stranger?"

Statistics. His brother was really telling statistics to him. "I know a lot of my enemies, too."

Charlie, annoyed, moaned and drew himself away from under his big brother's arm. "You just don't want to understand, do you?"

"I'm just channeling you in this matter." Don noticed that his words sounded cynical, but hell, he couldn't take anymore! Charlie was going to drive him mad if he continued this way! Had he really come to the Craftsman to see him again?

If that only hadn't been a mistake.

Shortly afterward, they arrived back at their childhood home. In the late evening sun the old building radiated a dignity that made it nearly seem a bit cold. Loveless. Hadn't they grown up here? Wasn't this their home?

Not for the first time Charlie wished that their father was here. Alan had the remarkable talent of making his sons reach an agreement without too many words. And with their current arguments they needed his talent more than ever.

Maybe it would have been easier for them if their nerves hadn't been so tense that they were close to tearing apart. They were on permanent stand-by, and also their home had lost its attributes of comfort and safety. It was here that they had been abducted last Friday, a week ago from today, and it was here that the mafia had attacked them again to intimidate Charlie. Who could assure them that these criminals wouldn't intrude at any moment and hold their weapons against their temples?

Don just wanted to propose to his brother to move out for a couple of days. However, they could never be sure if they were being watched or overheard by the mafia or not. And it was clear as well that the mafia didn't want Charlie out if its reach and that they would intervene if necessary.

"Are you sure that I shouldn't stay here?"

Charlie, still disgruntled and annoyed and tired and exhausted, hesitantly and morosely lifted his head. Don seemed to be serious. And to be honest he currently was really not looking forward to staying in this big house all on his own. The simplicity with which the mobsters had already gained entrance to his home twice now still made him shudder.

He swallowed. "If you want to," he mumbled, hoping vehemently that Don would not change his mind and prefer his apartment. Already immediately it occurred to him how silly his conduct was. Of course Don would prefer his apartment; Charlie himself wouldn't act any differently. A small, anonymous flat in the city or a huge, house full of nooks and crannies far away from any kind of police departments? The choice wasn't difficult.

"Okay, I'm staying tonight," Don decided brusquely, and Charlie nearly broke his neck; so fast did his head jerk sideways.

"Seriously? You don't mind?" He hesitated. It was so difficult. He just didn't know how to treat Don at the moment. The ever-changing highs and lows from deep disapproval and complete unity were nearly making him sick. Finally, however, he gave in to the feeling of solidarity and confided in his big brother, "I don't believe that I'll be able to be at ease here in the foreseeable future. But if you feel differently about that..."

Don grinned wryly. "You don't seriously believe that I'll be able to be at ease anywhere as long as these guys are out there, do you?"