After the professors had left, David, Liz and Colby settled down to go through the information they had collected. David's phone rang, and he sighed as he picked it up. "Sinclair."

"David, it's Charlie. Listen, Don said the background information on the Agincourt brothers should be in his in basket. And he has an appointment to meet with ... " Charlie's voice got quieter, "Don, where and when is your meeting tomorrow?... Okay. Sorry, David. Don has an appointment to meet with the principal at Fred Agincourt and Ellen Davis' school tomorrow morning at nine fifteen."

"That's great, Charlie! Thanks. How's Don doing?"

"Cranky."

David laughed. "That's good to hear. When Don's cranky that means he's on the mend. Tell him I'll meet with the principal. I want to stop by and see Don too. Not to discuss the case, just to see how he's doing."

"I think he'll be disappointed if you don't discuss the case with him."

In the background, David could hear Don's voice, "Damn straight! Charlie, you tell him he's going to come here and give me his report first chance he gets."

"Hey, you tell him he's not lead agent on this case any more. I don't have to report to him."

Charlie laughed, "Oh, no, David! You'll have to tell him that yourself. Hey, do you mind if I stop by to look through the information on the Agincourts?"

"Tonight? It's getting late, Charlie. Why don't you get some rest? It's been a long day." David glanced at Colby and saw him roll his eyes. "I know you want to get these guys, but you came really close to losing Don today. Why don't you spend some time with him?"

David held his breath, wondering if he'd gone too far. Finally he heard Charlie sigh. "Okay. But I'll be there tomorrow to get that data."

David grinned and gave a thumbs up sign to Colby. "This has got to be a first. I've actually talked Charlie Eppes into waiting."

Charlie chuckled. "Well, on second thought..."

"No! Forget I said that. I'll see you tomorrow." When he finished the conversation with Charlie, David stood, stretching his back.

Liz said, "You were a little hard on Charlie."

"I know," David said. "It was a calculated risk. I didn't want to freak him out, but I wanted to bring him back to reality. He seemed to take it okay, though."

"That's good," Colby said. "He kind of idolizes Don, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, kind of," David said, grinning. ""The background information on the evil twins is in Don's in basket. Why don't you two call it a night? I'm going to have a look ..."

"I'll help you," Liz said, standing to follow him.

Colby stood as well, "What the heck. What else am I going to do? Sleep?"

"Sleep?" Liz said. "What's that?" She accepted a file folder from David, and the three sat down and started going through the data.

--

Charlie closed his cell phone, staring thoughtfully at it before putting it in his pocket.

"Is everything okay?" Amita asked.

"Hmm? Yeah." Charlie looked at his brother. "David just... well, he just helped me adjust my priorities. I'm not going back there until morning." He sat on the edge of Don's bed. "How are you doing? Honestly."

"A little sore. Tired. Bored. Hungry." He held up his left hand, showing Charlie the IV tube. "This, and clear liquids is all they'll let me eat for now. I hear they may let me have soft foods tomorrow to see how my plumbing is doing."

"Soft foods? Like Jello?"

"Nah, Chuck, that's clear liquids. They actually let me have some green and some yellow this afternoon."

"And I missed it? I know how much you love Jello."

Don rolled his eyes. "Well, I was hungry and I had this nasty taste in my mouth. Anything would have been an improvement. Even yellow Jello."

A tune suddenly forced its way into Charlie's head, and he struggled to suppress a grin. "Yellow Jello, hm?" He glanced at Alan, who appeared to have had the same thought, and began to sing quietly, "They call it yellow Jello."

Don chuckled and added, in a hideous British accent, "Quite rightly."

Alan shook his head and stood, placing his hands in the small of his back and grimacing. "I'm going to stretch my legs. Amita, boys, you want anything?"

Charlie said, "I'd like some tea, if they have it."

"Me too," Amita said.

Don looked innocently at his father, "I take it rib eye is out of the question."

"Unless they make that flavor of Jello, you are out of luck, my boy."

Charlie and Don both grimaced at the image of beef-flavored Jello, and Don said, "Thanks. At least I'm not hungry any more."

As Alan left the room, Charlie said, "Maybe I can help with the boredom. You feel up to discussing the case?"

"Definitely."

"Well, since I got us in here by saying I was here to debrief you for the FBI..."

"Really?"

"Yep," Amita said. "He decided to project an air of authority."

"Well, I didn't have a clipboard, so I needed some way to convince the powers that be that I needed to be in this room."

"And that worked?" Don asked.

"Until we got to Nurse Ryan," Amita said, giggling. "She punctured his air of authority pretty quickly."

"Yeah," Charlie said, "I had to play the little brother card."

Don looked at Amita in horror. "He didn't do the sad puppy dog eye thing, did he?"

"Well, not exactly," she said, grinning. "He did bite his lower lip, though."

"Hey," Charlie said, "I showed her my FBI visitor's pass and she made the connection with the names. When I admitted that you were my brother, she expressed her sympathies and let us through."

Don turned again to Amita, "Did she really express her sympathies?"

"No," she admitted. "she did tell us you were doing well, and said you were up to answering some questions before your next shot of morphine."

"All right, then," Don said, "what did you need to know, Charlie?"

"Well, it was mostly the thing about the Agincourts' background check and the appointment. But now that you're a little more with it, do you feel up to discussing what happened at the museum? I don't want to push if you're not ready..."

Don smiled gently and squeezed Charlie's hand. "I'll be fine, really, Buddy. Let's see what I can remember," he said, closing his eyes. "Okay, I was watching the DaVinci while we were talking. I saw a woman pushing a wheelchair right up to the DaVinci. She was young. Maybe late twenties. She let go of the wheelchair and grabbed the frame with both hands. She was so obvious about it. No distraction, nothing. She just twisted it like she was trying to pry it off the wall. I drew my weapon and told her to step back." He paused, gnawing his lower lip and glanced at Charlie. "Then I saw the little girl in the wheelchair move." He grimaced, closing his eyes again. "I yelled for everyone to freeze. Someone screamed. A lady, I think. I didn't turn to look. But the woman smiled." He looked at Charlie. "She just smiled at me. Then... then the little girl fired. Twice I think. I got a shot off, but I don't think it ... oh, God. I didn't hit any of the bystanders, did I?"

"No," Charlie said softly, squeezing Don's hand. "You were ... the only one hit."

"Good," Don said, sighing. "I don't really remember much after that. Liz came in. I remember telling her to go back and check the Michelangelo. At least I think I did."

Charlie nodded. "You did. And you were right. The attempt on the DaVinci. Shooting you. Those were the distractions this time."

Don opened his eyes and reached for the cup of water on the night stand. Charlie picked it up and held the straw to Don's lips. "Thanks," Don said. "Did you get anything useful?"

"Actually, yes, I think so. The woman smiling at you. That was something new. I don't know what it means. And the girl. She drew your attention first. She didn't just shoot you. And the woman screaming." He shrugged. "They could mean something, or not." He put the cup back on the night stand and added some more ice water from the pitcher. "Want more?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie held the straw to Don's lips again. "I'm sorry I put you through all that again..."

Don shrugged. "It's okay. Every time I'm awake and alone, I run through it in my head, trying to see if there's anything I missed. Anything I should have done differently."

"And was there?"

"Not really. Not that I can see. The woman was the more obvious threat. I was right to keep my eye on her, not on the kid."

Charlie nodded. "That makes sense. They knew what your instincts would be, and went counter to what you'd expect. They used the DaVinci as a distraction, and stole the less valuable Michelangelo. They used the kid to shoot you instead of the adult. I wonder..."

"What?" Don said.

"No. It's probably a stupid idea."

"Charlie, don't second guess yourself."

"I wonder if they targeted you because you were the team leader."

"How could they know I would be the first one to see the woman?"

"See. I told you it was a stupid idea." He tapped his temple with his index finger. "But I'm brainstorming here, and brainstorming leads to some stupid ideas and some good ideas."

"And it leads to more creative ideas," Amita said. "If you ignore your inner editor, and just let the ideas flow, you're more likely to come up with a lot of good ideas, and a lot of bad ones."

Charlie nodded, "And after all the ideas are collected, then you turn your inner editor loose on them, and get rid of the ones that don't make any sense."

Don lowered the head of his bed and grimaced. "Wait until I get my morphine, and I'll come up with a whole lot of ideas. And I guarantee you your inner editor will toss out most of 'em."

"Let me call the nurse," Charlie said, pressing the call button.

Nurse Ryan entered almost immediately. "Ready for your pain meds, Agent Eppes?"

"Please," Don said weakly. "Were you hovering outside my door again, Mary?"

She chuckled as she administered the dose of morphine. She touched Don's forehead gently. "I was not hovering. I just happened to be walking by."

"Sure," Don said as he drifted off to sleep.

--

When Alan returned, carrying three steaming cups in a cardboard holder, Don was asleep. That didn't trouble him as much as the sight of Charlie, eyes downcast, holding Don's hand. "Charlie?" he said softly. "What's wrong?"

Charlie looked up, his expression bleak. "Nothing," he lied as he took the cup of hot tea his father offered him. He met his father's eyes and tried to force a smile. "He just had his morphine. He'll be out of it for a while." The smile faded. "I had to have him go through what he remembered about the shooting."

"Why?" Alan asked as he handed Amita the other cup of tea.

"I needed to know. In case there was anything we were missing." He looked up at Alan, his eyes pleading. "He said it was okay. I just feel bad.about it."

"With good reason," Alan snapped. Charlie winced as if he had been struck, and Alan immediately regretted his comment. "I'm sure you thought you were doing the right thing, and I know you're anxious to find out who did this, but..."

"He said he goes through it over and over again whenever he's awake anyway," Charlie said softly, looking at Don and blinking back tears. "I didn't know that. Of course, I haven't been here enough to see much of anything."

Amita put her hand on top of his. "That's not fair, Charlie. You've been here."

"Not enough, though. When I spoke with David earlier, you know what he said? He said I came close to losing Don today and that I should spend some time with him. And he was right."

Alan sighed. "He may have been right, but there was no call for him to be so harsh."

"It's okay. It's the verbal equivalent of hitting a stubborn mule upside the head with a two by four to get its attention." He gave Alan a pointed glance, "And you, of all people should know that this particular stubborn mule needs to pay attention more often."

"You got that right," Alan said, settling into his chair and pausing for a sip of his coffee. He glanced at Don. "Though under the circumstances, I can see why it's hard to pay attention. We're all a little distracted."

Charlie's eyes widened as he followed his father's gaze. He spoke, more to himself than to the others. "We knew they shot Don as a distraction in the museum, but it's also distracting us -- me -- from the real evidence. It's affecting my ability to concentrate on the real questions. I've been distracted from the very beginning. This thing with my students complaining about my consulting..." He gave Don's hand a squeeze and stood. "Here, Dad. You can sit here."

"You leaving again?"

"No." He picked up his briefcase. "I'll be here, but I'll be working." He glanced at Amita. "I'll take you home first."

"That's okay. I want to help."

--

Don became aware of his surroundings slowly. For a hospital room, it was pretty quiet. He could hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Charlie. He opened his eyes and realized the door was closed. That explained the lack of ambient noise. With minimum movement of his foggy head, he glanced around the room. His dad was asleep in the chair next to his bed, snoring gently. Amita was curled up, sound asleep, on the extra bed. Charlie sat next to Amita's bed, hunched over his laptop, tapping and mumbling to himself. "Hey, Chuck," Don said hoarsely.

Charlie jumped and turned to face Don. "Hey yourself," he whispered.

"What're you doing? Playing Freecell?"

"I wish. I'm getting back to what I was doing before they threw a handful of distractions in my way. I'm looking for connections." He looked at Don. "They knew. They knew from the very beginning that you and I would be involved in this case."

Don pushed the button to raise the head of his bed. "How'd they know my team would get this case?"

"I have no idea. But they had to have known. Why else would they start making trouble for me at school? I keep finding connections between the students who filed the complaint and our art thieves. I just never made that connection in my head. I was too distracted."

"Crap, that's crazy. You know what that means?"

"Someone inside the FBI is involved?"

"Oh, God, Charlie," Don moaned, rubbing his face.

"Don?" Alan sat up straight. "What's wrong? Should I call the nurse?"

"No, Dad. The nurse can't help with this. Charlie..."

"Charlie, are you bothering your brother again?"

"No," Don interrupted. "It's fine, Dad. It's this case. Charlie just found something we all should have seen from the beginning. Someone in the FBI might be involved in these thefts."

"How do you figure that?" Alan said, glancing from son to son.

Charlie sighed. "I've established that my students are connected to the art thieves. Why would they choose now to file complaints against me? At the same time they start their thefts?"

"There's got to be another explanation," Alan said, standing and stretching. "Maybe it's a coincidence."

"I've been at this for five hours, and I haven't found another explanation." Charlie looked at Alan, his eyes dull with fatigue. "I hope you can help me see what I'm missing."

"Get some sleep," Alan said gently, sitting back down. "You're at your wits' end. No wonder you can't see the explanation."

"Dad," Don said, "I think Charlie's right. If he was more awake, he'd be able to tell you the odds against this being a coincidence. I need to talk to David and warn him. If someone in the office is involved, it could get even more dangerous."

"More dangerous than you getting shot?" Alan asked.

"Yeah. I'm alive. They put me out of commission temporarily, but the rest of the team is still involved in this case. They've got to know what they're up against. What time is it?"

Alan checked his watch. "Six thirty. Too early to call David. Why don't you wait at least until eight?"

Don had his cell phone open and was already dialing. "If I can be up at six thirty, so can he," he said with a grin. "Hey, David, did I wake you up?... No? That's good. Dad thought it was too early to call you... Well, good, I trained you well... Listen, Charlie came up with something, and I think he's right... Yeah, for once..." Don glanced at Charlie. "Just kidding, Chuck. Anyway, we think it's too much of a coincidence that the students who've been making his life hell for the past few days are tied in with our thieves. The question is, how did they know that Charlie would be involved in this case?... Yeah, crap is right..." Don listened for a few moments, nodding. "Yeah... good idea... okay, I'll talk to you later... Thanks, yeah, I do feel better. I should be eating real food sometime today... Thanks. Yeah, tell 'em I said hi." He closed his phone. "He agrees with us, Charlie. He's going to start poking around."

"Good," Charlie said, not looking up from his computer. "There's something else..."

Don leaned back and sighed. "Before breakfast?"

Charlie looked up and blinked. "I'm sorry. You're right. It'll keep." He closed his computer and stood. "Too much coffee last night. I'll be back." He headed for the bathroom.

"Wait, Charlie," Don said, "What did you find?"

Charlie stopped. "It's more what I didn't find. The transcripts of your interviews with the skydivers were in the file, but the second interview with Avery Schaeffer was missing. He was the one who responded to the prisoner's dilemma, right? What did he tell you?"

"It wasn't there? I put it in there myself. I'll have David email you another copy. But the Readers' Digest version is that he gave me a detailed description of the woman who hired them. He also said the four of them knew ahead of time that there was no protest. And he's seen the woman since then. At Cal Sci."

"At Cal Sci? Why didn't you tell me?"

Don's brow furrowed as he thought back on the events of that day, four days earlier. "That was the night after the theft at the Getty. The first one..." his eyes widened. "That was the night you were attacked. I got your voicemail, and tried calling you, but you didn't answer. Next time I saw you, I was a little..."

"Distracted?" Charlie supplied. "That seems to be the common denominator in this case." He turned back toward the bathroom. "Let me get rid of this minor – uh – distraction, and I'll be right back."