Chapter 21

Note: I'd like to mention that this is not, in fact, the last chapter :D

FEDERAL PROSECUTOR'S OFFICE

"Get in my way on this, and I will leave you whimpering in a corner." Robin snapped her phone shut and shook hands awkwardly with the man who'd just entered.

Don's lawyer gave her a questioning smile. "The girlfriend, right?"

Robin glared at him. "Assistant US Attorney Robin Brooks."

"Look - this is your turf, and we both want the same thing. I'm more than willing to take the lead on this, if it's more comfortable professionally for me to be the one acting like the demanding defense attorney while you stay out of it."

There was a flash of fire in Robin's eyes. "I have been the textbook definition of professional for five weeks, and it's taken every shred of self-control I have. Meaning I don't have any left."

Robin gave the other lawyer a condescending pat on the shoulder, not really caring that her insincere smile bordered on a smirk. She simply dared any human being in a suit to step in her path right now, regardless of good intentions.

"Just sit back. We have an innocent FBI agent in jail. By the time I'm done they'll be nominating injunction-filing to be the next Olympic event."

BREAK ROOM, FBI OFFICE

"Dad - do you think Don's going to be okay when he gets out?"

"Why wouldn't he be okay?" asked Alan.

"I've just never seen him question himself so much, or be this open about things that bother him. As touched as I am by the confidences, it's - I'm finding it quite disturbing."

Alan sighed, wandering over to a window and looking out, deep in thought. "When you were very young, you began to teach us things. You were always driven to show us how you saw the world."

He turned to look at Charlie. "I watched Donnie interrogate someone once. The FBI didn't teach him how to do that. He was born asking questions the way you were born teaching. Even at six years old he would look right into our eyes and ask things - deep questions, about human nature and life and religion and justice. You couldn't brush him off with an answer that would satisfy a child. The questions he posed were the things professors write entire thesis's about."

"He'd never listen to anything I had to say," said Charlie, a tinge of bitterness underlying the playful remark.

"That's because you weren't answering his questions," said Alan. "One of these days he was bound to turn that constant questioning on himself, and I'm not entirely certain it's a bad thing."

"Are you saying you think he deserves to think this badly of himself?"

"No, I'm saying you're missing the point. He's not condemning, he's asking questions. That's who he is, Charlie. He's been investigating since the day he was born, and he was bound to work his way around to his own soul eventually."

Charlie nodded, joining Alan at the window. "It's just - I've been reading some very disturbing things about the effects of solitary confinement. It causes changes in the brain, in personality - it's considered by some people to be a form of torture."

Alan's expression was deadly serious. "I'm his father, Charlie. I can't see him in that place without thinking it would hurt less if someone would shove a hot poker into my heart. That's not some tough FBI agent in there, that's my little boy. But even I can make myself see that he's had to put his life in their hands and he accepts how that works. I've looked pretty long and hard into his eyes, and I believe he's telling the truth when he says he's okay there."

Charlie sighed. "I guess it is Don. He's been through worse, I've just never seen him like this."

"He isn't breaking down. If he were, we'd never know it." Alan sighed and sat down, frowning at the table and tapping lightly at a coffee stain with one finger before deciding to continue. "Your mother and I were raised in a time that was changing when you two were very young. A man didn't talk about his feelings. I wish I'd been able to teach him something different, but that's just the way it was. We threw him into this world and told him to deal with it, so he did. The thing is, given his intelligence, we didn't always remember that he was also a young child."

"Like they threw him in jail and told him to deal with it?"

Alan gave him a dry smile. "No, but unlike with Donnie, we weren't the only ones who raised you. Your early influences came from the academic world, from people whose attitudes and intelligence were ahead of their time. You were never taught that being stoic was the same as being strong, and I'm grateful for that. But Don was. Letting his emotions show is one of the bravest acts in the world for that man."

Alan glanced at Charlie. "Trust me, I know. I've tried to do it myself."

"So he has the courage to let me see what's going on in his head, and I repay that by thinking he's losing it." Charlie stood and walked over to the counter, planting his palms on it and wondering if Don hated himself this often. Probably. Definitely.

"I am an idiot."

US DOJ METROPOLITAN DETENTION CENTER

"I'm here to meet with Kevin Anderson," said Charlie, suddenly uncomfortable.

Was this massively inappropriate? Would Colby or Don be yelling at him tomorrow with that familiar expression that said, 'Charlie, what were you thinking?'

"Nice to see you under better circumstances, Dr. Eppes," said a friendly voice behind him. Anderson extended his hand as Charlie turned.

"Charlie," said Charlie, shaking his hand with a twinge of nervousness.

Anderson didn't miss it, and he walked Charlie down the hall. "Are you sure you want to go up? It's not a tourist destination, especially for someone who's been held here."

Charlie frowned. "I - I'm not really afraid to go up there." He braved meeting the detention officer's eyes. "In fact - I've been meaning to thank you guys for making my arrest – well, something that could have been really frightening, and I know you went out of your way to make it an experience that really wasn't so bad."

Anderson's face broke into an almost affectionate smile. "Kiddo, if everyone they booked in here was like you, our job would be a lot easier. So what's wrong?"

"Is - this wildly inappropriate? What I'm asking to do here?"

"On all fronts," said Anderson without hesitation.

Charlie felt his heart sink. "I'm sorry. Tell me where to wait - I didn't mean to-"

Anderson interrupted. "Let me tell you something. There aren't many guys you let yourself care about in here, but now and then someone looks you in the eyes with the kind of dignity that just doesn't belong to a criminal. I hoped Eppes was innocent and I hoped like hell you guys would find out before he was tried and shipped out. So I'm celebrating by being as inappropriate as I damned well feel like."

Charlie looked up, startled into a smile when he saw the warmth reflected in Anderson's eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah." He put a hand on Charlie's shoulder and led him down the hall. "I get to release one hell of an amazing FBI agent tonight, let's have fun with it."

Charlie walked at his side for a minute before realizing he was grinning like an idiot. "Don would like you in the real world, you know. I think he'd like you a lot."

Anderson stopped and examined him carefully, his face deeply sober. It was similar to something Charlie had watched Don do during interrogations, watching someone so intensely. It wasn't a hostile act, but instead one that seemed to allow himself to crawl inside someone else's mind. Anderson was trying to make up his mind about something, and his study of Charlie yielded a decision.

"Agent Eppes is an intelligent, stable guy, and I've no doubt psych'll clear him for duty straight away. But being held in solitary for any significant length of time is very difficult." Anderson touched Charlie on the arm with a gentle hand. "He knows that, it just might be a good thing if someone he's close to recognizes this was no small thing he's been through."

Charlie nodded, choking back the sick feeling in his heart. "I - researched it. I - I'm going to ride home with him in the car, dad's picking us up. We'll give him all the time he needs."

The detention officer smiled. "Good man. No moping, okay? You're about to make his day in a major way. He gets to put this in his past now." Charlie drew in a deep breath and forced a return smile, which quickly became sincere.

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT UNIT

Don's eyes were closed. If he did that, and if he made himself relax his body completely, he could pretend he was back home, lying on the couch. If he blurred the background noise enough, it became the comforting chatter of the television, with Charlie and Alan and Amita going on about something that didn't interest him. He didn't like that he had been here long enough to learn how to find peace and comfort in this cell, or to so effectively warp reality, but he was almost content.

Almost. It was adding Robin to the mix that always ripped him out of his fantasies and left him feeling utterly desolated.

Damn it.

He pressed his head hard against the pillow and reminded himself of his own rules. No thinking about Robin. No thinking about what'll happen if you're convicted. No feeling sorry for yourself just because this isn't fair.

There was the brief, sharp rap of knuckles on the door calling for his attention, and he snapped his head up. Anderson was unlocking the door, and he stood, giving the officer a questioning glance. It was met with a blank look, and Don glanced down as the door was opened. He was filled with a sudden longing for human interaction that didn't involve orders and constant caution, and he braced himself to be chained up and taken - where?

He raised his head, puzzled.

Then he blinked, starting to question his own grasp on reality.

"Uh - Charlie?" When cell doors got opened around here, a fellow expected to see just about anything besides a cocky-looking, grinning mathematician.

"So, uh, we're having pizza tonight, and dad and I were wondering if you wanted to come by the house and join us."

They arranged bail. They got me out of here for the night on some sort of special pass. I'd know if they solved the case. Don looked between Charlie and Anderson, not allowing himself to hope that this meant what he thought it did. But why else would Charlie be grinning like that?

Don shot a questioning glance at Anderson, whose smile held genuine joy. He nodded. "The FBI called. They want their agent back."

Don sucked air into his lungs and held tightly to the door. His legs were shaking, the release of more than a month of carefully controlled tension and fear and shock overwhelming him.

"Whoa." He knew it was for real, there was no way either one of them would do this to him if it weren't, but a part of him still had to ask. He had to hear it, had to see that joy on their faces and be assured that the nightmare was over. "For real? You're sure about this?"

The warmth and love in Charlie's expression gave him everything he needed. "One hundred percent. You've been cleared of all charges. Come - come out of the cell, Don."

He glanced at Anderson. The officer nodded, a sincere smile on his face. "Come on. You can stop acting like a prisoner now."

Don looked at the two men, at the white hallway with its row of metal doors, at the cell he'd spent the last month of his life in. Seeing it, as Anderson had suggested, not as a prisoner but as himself.

As himself.

I just got my life back. God, thank you.

He closed his eyes momentarily, realizing what he'd just said to himself.

"Guys - I don't think I've ever been this grateful for anything in my life. I mean - I guess maybe I have, but-" he stopped. "What I'm trying to say is thank you. Thank you both, so much."

Anderson looked away at Charlie. "If the FBI hands out awards for incredible grace under pressure, you nominate this guy, okay?"

Charlie smiled, his lips twitching as he tried not to cry when he saw the depth of emotion on Don's face. "Come - come on. Let's get you out of here."

LOBBY, US DOJ METROPLITAN DETENTION CENTER

Don strolled out in his own clothes, putting his watch on with a satisfied grin and slipping a small object into his pocket. "Ahh, my cell phone. My beautiful, beautiful cell phone."

After the briefest hesitation, he stepped forward and shook hands with Anderson. "So - I hope you don't ever decide to quit. But if you ever get to thinking about joining the FBI, give me a call. I'll put a word in for you."

"FBI, huh?" Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"You've got good instincts," said Don.

"Got a card?" Don fished a business card out of his wallet and handed it to him. Anderson looked at it with a smile. "Maybe I'll give you a call for a beer a few months down the road."

"It's a deal." Don clapped him on the shoulder. "No offense, but I'm ready to get out of here. Charlie?"

"Dad's waiting for us in the car."

Don couldn't help but recognize the irrepressible grin on his brother's face, or the spring in his step as they walked down the corridor. He stopped, grinning himself. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"You have no idea," said Charlie. "Is this - is this what you feel when you crack a kidnapping case?"

Don nodded. "I'm warnin' you, it's addictive. High of a happy ending, watching someone walk free -"

"Wow."

"Most amazing feeling in the world."