Special thanks to ancientmaverick for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own.

Dear other guest: thank you very much for your kind review. I hope this chapter answers a few questions.

MEMORIES AND RESOLUTION

Fri, Sept 25 - 09:50 - Craftsman's House, Los Angeles

"I know this house." Don stopped just around the corner.

"Of course you do, it's our home. We grew up here, and dad and I still live here." Charlie grabbed Don's sleeves to pull him forward, but Don flinched away from the touch. "Come on, we need to get away from the street."

Charlie forced his tired feet the last few remaining meters home. He unlocked the side door. Looking over his shoulder, he was relieved to still find Don behind him. His brother looked across the garden and Koi pond as if he walked through a dream. Maybe it felt like one for him.

"Come in." He opened the door wide. "I have dry clothes, and you can sleep in your old room or on the couch. You usually take the couch."

Slow and reluctant, Don entered the house.

Charlie locked the door behind them. Suddenly he froze. He smelled pancakes. Why would somebody make pancakes? He shook his head. Better question, who made pancakes?

Don stared at him with wide eyes.

"Charlie, is that you?"

In a rare moment, Charlie really appreciated that his brother could read him so easily. Only the panic on his face proving that he really hadn't known that his father was home kept Don from bolting. And the locked door, of course.

"Charlie?"

He took a deep breath. Instead of a good solution, his mind only provided him with probabilities and travel times.

The heavy steps of his father neared the inner door. "Charlie?"

He needed to do something. After all the trouble he had taken on to get Don to trust him, he couldn't lose him now. He pointed to the door just as his father entered the room.

"Charlie?" He asked again. "Why didn't you answer-"

Charlie could see the moment his father laid his eyes on Don. He froze. His face reflected the storm of his emotions: shock, surprise, joy.

"Don?"

Alan opened his arms and took a step towards Don. Don stepped back. With a hurt look, he stared at Charlie and suddenly Charlie was left to explain something he hadn't words for.

So, he settled for changing the subject. "Dad. What are you doing here? I thought you were still at the airport."

"I live here. I came home as fast as possible when David called me." Confusion changed to accusation on Alan's face. "What are you doing here? David told me that Don is under their protection and we couldn't see him."

Don had taken another step back, his back already against the wall.

"Dad, it's a long story, but Don really can't remember much. And he doesn't trust us. Oh, and he doesn't like to be touched." Charlie underlined his words with nodding.

Alan pressed his lips together.

"So, I persuaded him to come home with me to get dry clothes, something to eat and some sleep. Then we can figure out what to do."

"I'll just go," Don insisted. The tension was slowly fading as Charlie kept talking to protect him.

"Is that so? Okay, then I want to hug you first." Alan took another step towards Don.

Charlie jumped forward and intercepted his father. "Dad, really. You can't touch him. He doesn't want it."

"Charlie," Alan took him by his shoulders and moved him to the side, "Don is my son. I love him. And I will hug him because the last six months, I thought the only time I'd see him again would be as we buried him, so nobody, not even you, Charlie, will stand in my way."

Don stepped sideways and away from the wall.

"Dad!" Charlie tried again. But his father just faced Don and opened his arms.

"You are my son, and whether you remember this or not, I love you and I missed you. So please, give your old man a hug."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest again as Don suddenly moved. He kept it open in surprise because Don was actually letting himself be hugged.

Alan enclosed him in his embrace and said a prayer. Don stood stiffly and without moving, but he allowed the touch.

How did his father achieve something in a few minutes that Charlie hadn't been able to do in a whole day and night?

"Um, dad?" Charlie started after he got over his shock. "You need to let Don breathe. I promised him clothes and food and sleep."

Alan let him go. "Of course. I just made some pancakes." He looked down. "I guess they remind me of Don, and I thought it-"

"I am hungry enough to eat anything. Pancakes are good." Charlie said just to say something.

With a new goal, Alan stormed into the kitchen to make some more. Charlie remained with Don.

"You okay?"

Don shook his head.

For a moment, Charlie didn't know what to do with an answer like that. Don had always answered in the affirmative. He was always fine, never troubled or sad.

"I need to go."

This was more familiar territory, and Charlie longed for his father to come back and create another miracle. Up until now, the hard truth had served Charlie well, so he continued with it. He could always run to dad and get him to make Don stay.

"I know," he answered, "but this is really good, actually. Dad and I are well aware that you're not a fan of emotional conversations. Just come in and eat something. No more hugs or talking."

He indicated with his chin to the door. "Are you coming?" He took a step to the door. He wanted to grab his brother and force him to come home. But he remembered Dr. Bradford's words about trust. It would need time and effort.

Maybe it was time for a little tit for tat for himself. He had to trust Don and hope that Don would return the favor.

With a heavy heart, he went through the door. It fell shut behind him.

Alan looked up from his work. His eyes were full of questions and fear. Charlie still felt ill around Don, and he had had more than twenty-four hours to get used to the new Don. His father hadn't had the same time to understand it. How was he supposed to explain to him about the safe house, the subsequent attack on the safe house, and their flight from David and the FBI?

Now in broad daylight, he wasn't even sure that the safe house had been attacked. Only his damp clothes reminded him. Time, he needed time to analyze the situation. Time to run numbers about how to deal best with Don and the FBI. He never anticipated a situation where he would be between the FBI and Don. The FBI and Don had always been a unit.

Carefully, the door behind him opened.

Charlie released a breath in relief. His trust had been repaid.

"I should go. The FBI and some men who want me dead are all looking for me. I'll just get you in trouble."

Alan put down the plate. "Yeah, well, I don't care."

Don frowned, his forehead wrinkled. "Charlie, I believe that you're my brother, and I guess I also have to believe that this is my father, but because of that, I don't want to get you in trouble. I should just go until-"

"No." Alan cut in. "No. You are my son and if somebody wants something from you, they have to get through me first." He crossed his arms.

Charlie smiled wryly at his dad's words. He hadn't been shot at; hadn't felt the terror created by men with assault weapons. He hadn't been playing hide and seek with trained killers.

"Don, stay, please." Charlie added his own words. "I promise you, Agent Sinclair is our friend. If someone gets close, we'll call him, but you've already helped the FBI track them down." He studiously ignored his father's startled glance.

"They have probably already arrested them, so we are safe." He never thought that a lie would come so easily over his lips as just now. But the desire to keep Don close was just too strong. "Nobody knows where we are. Relax. Stay."

Don took a step in and looked over the table with pancakes and syrup. "Just like that?"

Alan nodded. "Just like that."

"But you don't know me."

"I know that you're my son. That's enough for me." He returned to his work as if there was nothing more to be said.

There really was nothing more to be said.

Fri, Sept 25 - 11:30 - Flynn Logistics, Los Angeles

Joe Flynn sat down. He stared at his trembling hands still holding his phone.

"Who was that?" His wife Doris stood in the doorway.

"My lawyer."

She slowly came in. "What did he want?"

For a moment, Joe didn't know what to say. Finally, he offered, "The FBI had a warrant for one of my empty buildings."

She sat down next to her husband. "And?"

"They followed a tracker signal back to the car from the attack. He wasn't sure what else they got, but he warned me that this time they will come knocking."

She folded her hands. Her fingernails were dirty from the garden. They could hire a gardener, but she liked to do the work herself. Since Matthew's death, she spent more time in the garden than in the house.

"We knew that this would happen."

"Yes." He gave her a sad smile.

They sat together in silence.

"What now?"

In the beginning, he hadn't thought this far ahead. Revenge had clouded any vision of the future. But lately, he'd given a great deal of thought to what came next.

"I'm going to ask you a favor."

"Name it," she shot back. Her fingers found his fingers and wrapped around them.

"I need you to take a vacation."

"What?" She jerked her hand back.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "If you take a vacation, you're out of the line of fire."

"If I leave you now, it means I let you face the consequences alone."

"You aren't responsible."

"I gave you an address. I knew what happened six months ago. I knew the last two days you planned to eliminate Don Eppes. I did not call the police or tell a single soul. I am as responsible as you through my silence."

He had always loved this about his Doris. Her strength was a balm. "Okay, then I'm asking you to take care of some business for me."

She jumped up and turned away from him. For a long moment, she only showed him her back, but then turned. Tears streamed down her face. "What are you planning?"

"Money. Money solved a lot of my problems. I'll try to buy myself out." He had thought long and hard about it. "But there are risks involved."

"Does this mean you'll stop trying to have the agent killed?" She crossed her arms.

"Maybe."

She shook her head. "Do you really believe that killing Don Eppes will bring justice for Matthew's death? You keep telling yourself that you'll feel better. But nothing helps against this pain. All of this has just prolonged the mourning. You don't and won't feel better just by breaking Robin Brooks' heart."

Joe Flynn looked down, ashamed. He knew that his wife was right, but he couldn't stop. "As long as he is alive, it feels like she wins and I still lose. His death would even the score."

She stared at him for a long moment before turning away. "I'll go. Don't follow unless you're back to being the man I married. Because the man I married would have never wanted to kill a man that was an innocent party to his trouble. Not after he has realized that he had acted unjustly and done wrong."

She marched to the door. In the doorway, she lingered. "I still love you and hope you won't take too long to come."

Her perfume remained heavy in the air long after she had closed the door behind her and the taxi had driven off.

She would be fine. If he just finished what he had started, if Don Eppes would just disappear, everything would be fine again. He just had to believe it.

Fri, Sept 25 - 12:05 - FBI Office, Los Angeles

Agent Paul was livid.

She stormed through the office to the conference room as if the target of her anger was waiting for her there.

David and Colby walked slower, but not with less anger.

"What the heck was the DEA doing there?" Colby could not stop with this question. David had not commented on it because he had a suspicion about that. Agent Richard Miller had repeatedly called and texted him that he hadn't done anything. He had promised he hadn't talked to anybody. David wasn't so sure about it, but also wasn't inclined to discuss it.

"David. Anything new about Don?" Liz appeared with her arms full of files. She looked far healthier than the last time he had seen her.

"No," he shook his head, "nothing. He is in the wind. At least we know that he is with Charlie."

"So we actually have to go looking for a mathematician." Behind Liz, Nikki appeared. "Because I am really good at looking for math geeks."

David plumbed down on his chair. "I am sure that whatever you dug out from the files is really important."

"Sure, but nothing -"

The elevator dinged and ADIC Wright entered the floor. His entrance wasn't quite as noted as a four-star general on a military base, but it definitely caused a stir.

David stood up. The director found his gaze and pointed to the conference room. David nodded.

"I hope you have something for this meeting, because at the moment it looks bad," he said and looked pointedly at Nikki and Liz.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of material," Liz said with one her sarcastic smiles.

"You just won't like it." Nikki was more expressive in her opinion.

David pulled her aside. "Nikki, remember, we are going to talk to the Assistant Director of the FBI. Think before you speak, please."

The conference room filled slowly. David brought Don's team, or his team. Agent Paul came alone because her agents were still managing the scene or providing protection. Technicians and several junior agents added to the already full room.

"Okay. Close the door please." Director Wright ordered the agent nearest to the door. "Let's start with Agent Eppes. Do we know his location and status?" He looked straight at David and Paul.

"We had contact with Charlie Eppes, who assured us that he and Don Eppes are fine. We had no contact with Don Eppes directly. We currently have no location for him."

"How do you plan to find him?"

"We're hoping that Charlie's presence will make it easier to track him down."

"What about a BOLO or other agencies?"

"We refrained from issuing a BOLO because we don't want to alert Joe Flynn or anybody else to his former location or that we also don't know where he is. Also, Don's already reluctant to interact with law enforcement. We'd like to prevent a confrontation." David carefully laid bare their reasoning. Why Paul had agreed to them, he still wasn't sure.

Director Wright raised an eyebrow, but left it without a comment. "How big is the threat level?"

"Flynn is scattering. His wife has booked a flight to Europe in a few hours." Agent Paul reported. "It would have been very helpful to get some information about who Flynn hired. All indications are that he's continuing his little revenge plot, and if the attack on the safe house is anything to go by, it will only get worse."

"What happened at the safe house?"

Colby cleared his throat. "Forensics found a slow-release mechanism for the poison gas. It penetrated the vent system, and neither Agent Mitchell nor I were even aware that something was wrong. We just … fell asleep."

He sighed. "Don had closed all of his vents upstairs. The gas couldn't reach him, and he climbed down from the balcony. Until we talk to him, we're not even sure how he knew something was wrong.

"From the balcony, footprints go to the harbor. We lost them there. We're assuming that Charlie was still with Don."

"Based on the location of the truck-stop Charles Eppes used to call in, they reached the hiking trail and followed it," Agent Paul finished without missing a beat. "Somewhere along the way, Agent Eppes removed his tracker and put it in the van used by the attacker."

"Yes, and we all know how that ended." A dark look flickered across the face of the ADIC. "Let's hope the DEA has a good reason for this idiocy."

"Agent Sinclair."

"Yes sir?"

"Send out a BOLO. We need all the help we can get."

"Yes, sir."

Nikki jumped up. "This isn't a good idea, sir."

Colby groaned and put his head down. David shook his head. It was the thing he had warned her about.

"Oh, and why would that be?"

Nikki appeared unconcerned about the dangerous tone of her boss. "Because of Newtown PD Detectives Torres and Reed. They managed to arrest Don, sorry John Smith, several times for various bogus things. Torres and Reed were sure that he was faking the amnesia and that he was a major drug dealer. They were really out to get him to the point that their own captain started to get worried."

"John Smith?"

Liz piped up, "That's what the courts used when he couldn't remember his own name."

"From the beginning." Wright ordered. "And make it short."

"Yes, sir." Liz looked down on her notebook. "Five days after the attack on Robin Brooks and Don Eppes, the NPD raided a known drug house and arrested everybody. In the cellar, they found a man overdosing. The hospital saved his life. The detectives ran his fingerprints but found nothing. One of their witnesses or informants reported that he was the main dealer. But his lack of memory and any other evidence destroyed their case.

"At the same house, two other men were arrested, Daniel Holland and Stu Hall." Liz brought up two pictures to the screen mounted on the wall.

At least half of the room took a deep audible breath.

"Like many of you know, they were killed in a shootout with the FBI and DEA this morning."

Agent Paul cursed and threw her pen down. "We could have linked everything together through them!"

"They would have had to talk, because on paper, they have nothing to do with Flynn. Both are ex-Army, dishonorably discharged after they failed several drug tests. Since then, they have dealt and used drugs, all small-time. They were your typical thugs.

"I am still waiting for their complete Army files. But the police reports suggest that Stu Hall is a likely candidate to shoot at bullet proof glass until it either breaks or he kills himself."

"There are three sets of prints in the van. We don't have a match for the third set. Maybe the original owner or their gun dealer. If he's smart, he is already gone."

"What is it with the fingerprints in this office, actually?" Agent Paul picked up her pen. "I mean, no match for this guy, no match for John Smith, who is very obviously Don Eppes, whose prints should be on file."

Matt Li raised his hand. "Actually, ma'am, I can explain this." At the nod from the ADIC, he continued. "There are two sets of fingerprint databases. The central database is for every agency and the internal database regulates the access to buildings, files, and so on. The internal database is highly secure, only a few people have access. However, the central database is optimized for easy access for a lot of police departments and agencies."

He held up two sets of fingerprints. "If I compare the internal fingerprint set from Agent Eppes with the one in the central database, they don't match."

"They should match," Liz pointed out.

Matt Li nodded. "Yes, they should. Every single check that failed, like the fingerprints from the parking lot from Professor Eppes and the fingerprints from NPD match the internal set, but not the central system."

"Do we know why?" David tried to keep up with the flow of information.

"Yes," Matt Li glanced around the room. "The fingerprints in the central database were updated on March 26."

"The day Don was abducted?"

The senior technician nodded. "Shortly before midnight, they were accessed and changed. It's not really a hack so much as a regular update."

"Who was the logged user or agency?" Wright asked.

Li bit his lip nervously. "I checked it several times, but the login credentials match … they match Martin Ward."

Everybody was surprised. Agent Paul was the loudest. "What?"

"The entry was changed with the credentials of Martin Ward. I don't know if it was him or if somebody used his access. But it was not a hack or manipulation of the system."

Every agent in the room ran through the implications of the information. Was it possible that he had to give up his code? Or had he helped willingly?

"The fingerprints," Colby started, "they are real fingerprints, just not Don's, right?"

"Yes."

"Whose fingerprints were used to replace Don's?" Colby had creases in his forehead as if he already knew the answer.

"Hmm," Matt Li looked at his computer and tapped some keys. "I haven't run an analysis yet. But it should be easy because they can be matched without a technician…."

David saw the moment his computer had found a result. Matt Li paled and swallowed hard. Then he looked up and caught his eyes.

"Matthew Flynn."

Paul shot out of her chair. "That -" she stopped herself in time of using inappropriate language in front of her boss even if he wouldn't mind. "He is playing with us!"

And he is playing us well, David thought.

TBC