A/N - You're reviews are all too kind, but I'll take 'em anyways! Thank you so much!!

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"Kid, there's something I ought to tell you. I've never shot anyone before."

"One hell of a time to tell me."

Butch (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969

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Emily was vaguely aware of someone screaming as the guns went off. When Don had shoved her to the floor, she instinctively rolled into a ball to shield her stomach. She crawled behind the overturned chair, desperate to find some sort of cover. There were three distinct cracks through the air, two horrible thuds and then that awful screaming. Would someone please shut this banshee up?

But then she came to the realization that her throat starting to hurt, that maybe the screaming was coming from her. She bit her left fist, tried to choke the cries back. It's okay, you're okay, the baby's okay, Don's... Crap, where's Don?

Emily tentatively peeked her head around the back of the Adirondack. There in front of her, lying on the floor was Don, blood, the big, scary looking guy and more blood. The Sig had fallen out of Don's hands, landing near his head. She leaned forward as far as her belly would allow and inched the butt of the gun towards her. Gotcha! Little one, you are so not going to believe this when you're older...

She made a cautious sweep, eyeing the still unconscious Johnson and keeping the Sig trained at the large man. A large stain covered the upper left chest. But the proverbial nail in the coffin was the small, black hole on the middle of his forehead. Well you're definitely not going to cause me problems anymore...

The reality of what had just happened made her want to throw up and run away. Not necessarily in that order. Before she had a chance to bolt, her nursing training kicked in. She could handle victims of drive-bys, construction accidents, car accidents... But actually watching people taking each other's life... Dropping to her knees by Don's head, distracting herself from anything else around her, Emily delicately brushed his neck searching for a pulse. There was a steadily growing patch of red on his right shoulder. Oh, thank God, you're still breathing...

There was a small groan, "You tryin' to poke my eyes out...?"

"You tryin' to give me a heart attack?" Emily sighed with relief. A stubborn Don is a very much alive Don... He tried to get up, "Hey, no moving now... The big lunk in the corner isn't going to be giving us anymore trouble." Emily carefully pressed him back down. "You're bleeding, darlin'..."

"Yeah, I noticed..." He made a small gasp as Emily applied pressure to the wound. "Wait, do you hear...? I thought he only had one henchman...?"

The footsteps grew louder on the tongue and groove, "Yeah, he did..."

Don struggled to raise his head, "Ian..."

"You're suppose to be dead," the sniper deadpanned.

"So...? I got better..." Don let his head fall back on the floor.

Emily's head rapidly went back and forth at the exchange, all the while maintaining pressure on Don's shoulder, "You two know each other?"

The tall, hispanic man stepped over the body and Johnson's legs, "Ian Edgerton, ma'am. I'm with the FBI." He knelt down next to her, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, no major arteries hit, pulse strong, respirations steady." She peeled back Don's shirt. "It's a little deeper than a graze... You're going to have a nice scar from this one, G-Man..." Emily studied his face closely, for an awful moment, she thought that she'd never see his eyes open again...

"Here, can you maintain pressure for me?" Ian complied, his eyes widening with shock at her figure as she ran into the house.

Don gave a yelp, "Jeez, don't push... so hard..."

"You gonna bother to fill me in Eppes?"

"She's a nurse... she knows what she's doin'..." He trailed off, could help but feel a little bit of pride that he'd managed to pull one over Edgerton. "Ian... that's my wife, Em'ly..."

"Apparently you two 've been busy." Ian kept his eye on the door, "When she due?"

Don gave a lazy smile, "December..."

Ian gave a chuckle and shook his head, "Care to explain post-mortem procreation to me? Can't be easy after rigor mortis sets in..."

The front door swung open and Emily came back out with a first aid kit and towels. "Can you help me get him up?"

Ian carefully grasped Don under his left arm and pulled him upwards, supporting his back as Don leaned against the wall. Emily pulled a scissors out of her back pocket and started on Don's shirt. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this..."

Ian cocked an eyebrow, "Go at your husband with a pair of scissors?"

She gave Edgerton a smirk, "I know better than that. He's a federal agent." Emily snipped through the cotton-poly blend, "I just really hate this shirt."

Don rolled his eyes, "Really, please Em... For once I wish you'd stop hiding your feelings and just be honest..." He winced as the fabric tugged away from his injury.

"So Ian..." Emily's mouth was twisted in a frown as she mopped up the excess blood off Don's shoulder. "You've got some pretty sweet timing," her eyes jumped to the still form a few feet away. "Coulda used you a little earlier though..."

He readjusted Don who had started to slide down the wall, "It's this funny thing. I'm sent out on assignment to track this guy," he waved his head towards Johnson. "Then finally when I catch up to him, someone forgot to mention that the special agent he took a hit out on is actually still alive. And when I get a clear shot, the aforementioned agent pulls a Joseph Marley that makes Dickens look bad, knocks the target out and makes me wonder if I'm stuck in some sorta really bad Ghostbusters sequel."

"You have to admit, they've got like the best theme song ever..." Don grunted again, "Sorry babe... Almost done." She finished wrapping his shoulder in gauze, then wrapped a tensor bandage around his arm and shoulder to immobilize it. Emily folded a receiving blanket to a triangle, creating a sling for his arm. "I know Mickey Mouse isn't exactly your style..."

"I think that's the funniest thing I've seen all day." Don gave a laugh, "Just don't call me Jimmie Dodd..."

"You don't want to be a Mouseketeer?" She motioned for Ian to help Don up, "I'd think you'd look cute with one of those little hats with the mouse ears..."

Ian's grip on Don slipped as the sniper tried to mask a chuckle as a cough. "He's going to be okay?"

Emily nodded as she held open the door. "Yeah, there's not much else that a hospital would be able to do. The bleeding's stopped. I'll keep an eye out for infection. But I would like to get him checked out sooner rather than later..."

He regained his hold and walked Don to the sofa. "Okay, you two wait in here... I'll take care of the rest..."

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Colby was scanning through his report one last time. After an intensive three week investigation, they had closed a series of thefts of high end paintings and art work. Most items were targeted from private collections and the one object that brought a smirk to Colby's face was a tribal mask from an exhibit at UCLA's Folwer Museum. Looks like something outta Rocky Horror Picture Show...

It turned out the museum's docent in training was also an aspiring thief in training who had watched Ocean's Twelve one too many times. He'd actually been fairly successful, until he got his hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. Or museum safe, either way... Unfortunately for him, this Linus Cadwell wannabe didn't have a mom in law enforcement who could bust him out of trouble.

He closed the file and tossed it back on his desk. When David wasn't around, Colby figured out he could lean back far enough to lay his head on his partner's desk and prop his feet up on his own at the same time. It was a rather precarious position and he would hate to be around if David ever found out, but after jumping around crazy metal things labeled as art, I deserve a break...

Megan rounded the corner, watched as the agent tried to steal a nap, "Hey Granger, if you turn in that report, maybe I'll let you go home."

The man didn't move a muscle, "Home? What's that?" He cracked his eyes open and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had us all chained to our desks for the duration."

Megan laughed and playfully knocked his legs down from the desk with her foot. "Aww... now that's not fair, Reeves. Goin' all krav maga on me." He sat up, rubbed his hands over his face. "You telling the truth? 'Cause the moment you say yes, I'm hightailing it outta here."

Colby watched as the yes on Megan's lips morphed into a 'Yes sir, right away sir,' when her cell rang. He inwardly groaned. Ours is not to question why... "No rest for the wicked..."

Megan snapped the cell shut. "That was Merrick. He wants to meet with us and David ASAP."

"Right now?" Colby was surprised. Normally a meeting with Merrick was scheduled ahead of time, unless there was a crisis. But as far as Colby knew, there was no crisis, the case was closed and this would be cutting into his eagerly anticipated surf time.

An exasperated expression that parents often use with small children and puppies crossed Megan's face. "No Granger, he wanted to meet with us yesterday." She patted him on the shoulders, "Of course now. What do ya think ASAP means?"

Associated Surfers Anonymous - Pacific? Colby got up and followed her to the elevators, "Of course, Reeves. What was I thinking?"

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It was two hours later when Edgerton was done cleaning up. After making contact with the local FBI, he called Tom Abrahams letting him know what had happened. Ian was relieved when Johnson was in custody and taken away. He'd been chasing the guy for the last three months... The cabin door opened soundlessly, Ian slipped inside. Don and Emily were both half collapsed on the couch, asleep.

He marveled at Don's rumpled form. When he had got the news nearly a year ago that Don Eppes had been killed in an assassination, Ian had been livid. Because of what he did, he was on the road most of the time, didn't have a lot of close friends or a place where he truly felt at home. But he had worked with Eppes long enough to garner a mutual respect with the man and dare he think, a demented sort of friendship borne out of their criminal chasing careers.

Edgerton had been in Rosalyn, Washington when the news came through the gossip lines. He had managed to hunt down his target and bring him in before he had made it into Canada. But by then it was too late for him to make the funeral. He hadn't made it back to LA until a few months later. The Eppes were his first visit. He remembered how fiercely Don had protected his younger brother during that first sniper case they had worked together, and took it upon himself to keep an eye out for Charlie since Don was gone.

He never brought himself to the point where he could go to pay his respects. And now, looking at very much alive Don Eppes, Edgerton was glad he never did. I wonder if little Eppes worked the odds of this kind of ending with that math voodoo of his ...

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Colby stared at the red and yellow canvas hanging in the foyer outside Merrick's office. He couldn't help but wonder what the criminal docent would think of it. Looks like something my three year old nephew could do... Another glance at his watch told him that David was running late and so was Merrick. You'd think if the guy was calling us here for an urgent meeting he'd actually take the time to meet with us...

"...No, I want the Bavarian creme frosting... Yes, white cake... No, not yellow cake. It can't be yellow cake."

Colby rolled his eyes. Megan had been on the phone ten minutes arguing with the bakery about her wedding cake. It shouldn't be that hard, should it? Who can't understand white cake? Then he shook his head with a small grin. It's crazy what that woman does for Fleinhardt...

His thoughts were abruptly cut off by an exasperated sigh. "I've made this call I don't know how many times... It's getting to be ridiculous."

"Have ya ever tried getting Larry to give up on the whole white food thing?"

Megan fiddled with the folders on her lap, "He has... for the most part. It's just, I know this would mean a lot to him..."

Colby couldn't help but feel a little guilty with his line of questioning when he saw the pleading look on her face. He decided to throw her a line instead, "True, how many times do ya get married?" Megan gave him a grateful smile, "Where do ya think David is?"

"Right here..." A light sheen of sweat covered the agent's brow. "We got a few of the reports back from the coroner's office on the Miller case."

"Ah David... What have I said about mixing business with pleasure." David handed the reports to Megan, "By the way... How is Claudia?"

The African American agent blushed deeply. Before he could make a retort, Merrick poked his head out the office door. "Good, you're here."

The three agents stood up and walked through the door while Merrick held it open. He motioned for them to take a seat, then took a seat behind his desk. The older man looked uncharacteristically flustered, "Thank you for waiting. I just received some information that I think you'll find very interesting."

All three agents unconsciously leaned forward in their seats. "I know you're all aware that Agent Edgerton was assigned to the Johnson case a few months back." Colby could feel his gut clench. "He got him. Agent Edgerton had Johnson in custody as of an hour ago." A full smile covered his face, "It's finally over. We got him."