Alan pulled the car around and grinned as he saw his two sons parked side by side in their wheelchairs. He wished he had the camera to catch Don's expression. Mister "Tough Guy" had been forced into a wheelchair by a blue haired lady half his size armed with nothing but "hospital policy" and was not happy about it. Charlie had been more cooperative, even though he had worried about being a bother to the petite lady who pushed his wheelchair.

Alan hopped out of the car and helped Don into the front passenger's seat. Charlie eased himself out of the chair with the help of his little old lady. "Hey," he teased, "I called shotgun."

"Your brother needs the front seat. His legs are longer."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he settled into the back seat. "He always gets to ride shotgun."

"Yeah, Chuck, I guess Dad just likes me better." Don grunted as Alan helped him to sit.

Charlie struggled with his seatbelt. "You know, this was easier when I could use both hands."

"Just wait'll I order Chinese tonight," Don chuckled.

"Stop it, you two!" Alan scolded as he climbed into his seat. "Or I'll just leave you here."

The woman who had wheeled Don from the room said, "What makes you think we want them?"

Alan grinned at the woman and waved. "Wish me luck!"

Charlie sighed. "Okay. Donnie can have the front seat. I won't complain. But I'm ordering pizza tonight."

Alan pulled away from the curb. "I'm making lasagna. I think we all could use some home cooking."

Don saluted. "Yes sir!"

"So, Charlie," Alan said, "I spoke with Millie last night. She was going to spread the word that you're coming home today."

"In that case, you might want to make some extra lasagna." Charlie chuckled, "If Millie is spreading the word, you can expect a crowd at the house."

--

David's cell phone rang. "Sinclair," he answered.

"David, it's Colby. We've got the cell phones..."

"But not Weimar and LoBella, right?"

"Right. How'd..."

"I'm looking at a kid who for some reason has Greg Spencer's cell phone in his possession."

The kid interrupted, "Hey! Dude gave it to me. He said he got a new one and didn't need this..."

David pulled a photograph out of his jacket and showed it to the kid. "Is this the dude?"

"Yeah. He..."

"Shut up," David turned back to his phone, "Colby, the kid says Spencer gave him the phone."

"Well, LoBella and Weimar were more creative. They put their phones in a street lady's shopping cart. She claims she didn't see where they came from."

"Okay, I'll meet you back at the office. Looks like we've been played. I'll call Don and warn him. Just in case." David closed his phone and turned back to the kid. "We're going to take you to our office to get your statement."

"Hey, you can't do that! I got rights."

David rolled his eyes. "You want me to bust you so I can read you your rights, or do you just want to come with us? We will bring you back here so you can get on with whatever pressing engagements you have today."

--

Alan pulled into the driveway. "Now before you two go hopping out of the car, let me give you a hand. I don't want you doing any more damage to yourselves."

"Yes, Father," Don said, reaching to unhook his seatbelt.

Charlie opened his door. "Why don't I go ahead and unlock the front door?"

"All right," Alan got out of the car. "Just be careful."

"I will," Charlie called over his shoulder.

Alan walked around to Don's side of the car and helped him stand. "Just take it easy, Donnie. I've got you."

Don eased himself out of the car. "Thanks, Dad." As they walked slowly toward the house, Don called, "Hey, Chuck! You'd better not be hogging the couch."

"Well, he did let you ride shotgun."

"Aw, come on, Dad, I'm hurt worse than he is."

Alan chuckled as they climbed the steps to the front door. "I never thought I'd live to hear you admitting to being hurt."

"Well, it is a little hard to hide... Where's Charlie? I thought he was just going to unlock the door."

"Maybe he had to go to the ..."

"Get in here and get your hands up!" Jason LoBella stepped into the doorway, pointing a gun at the two men.

Stunned, Alan put his hands up and stepped through the door, giving Don a warning glare. "Don't do anything stupid, Donnie," he murmured.

"Yeah," Greg Spencer stepped forward, twisting Charlie's injured arm behind Charlie's back. "Don't do anything stupid, Donnie."

Don lifted his hands and stepped into the room. "Okay, I'm not gonna do anything. Why don't you let him go, Greg?"

"Not on your life. I need something from you, Agent Eppes, and I figure you'd do just about anything to keep me from hurting your little brother." He twisted Charlie's arm. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and gasped.

"You want the painting, right?" Don took a step toward Greg. "Well that's not gonna happen."

"Whaddya think, Professor? Will big brother let me keep doing this..." he yanked Charlie's arm upward. Charlie cried out in pain. "Or will he give me the painting?"

Charlie's eyes opened and he took a shuddering breath. "Don... don't do it."

Daniel Weimar stepped forward and backhanded Charlie. "Shut up, Professor!"

Alan grabbed Daniel's arm. "Stop that!"

"Dad!" Don yelled. "Don't!"

Daniel spun around and punched Alan in the face. Alan dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Jason lifted the gun. "Stay there, Agent Eppes. I'll shoot you and then I'll shoot Daddy Dearest. You don't want that, do you?"

Don raised his hands again. "No. I do not want that."

"Then you're going to get us the painting."

"You know we've got the two ring leaders. They're going away for a long time, so you don't have to worry about anybody coming after you."

"Two?" Greg scoffed. "Shows how little you know, Eppes. And what makes you think we're afraid?

Don glanced at Jason. "Just a rumor I heard." Don's cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate. He itched to answer it, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. Now if whoever was calling would hang up before it went from vibrate to ring. No such luck. It began to ring.

"What's that?" Jason demanded.

"My cell phone," Don glanced at his pocket. "It'll just go to voicemail. Don't worry about it."

"Answer it," Greg shifted his grip on Charlie, "or I'll break his arm."

Don kept his left hand in the air and used his right hand to pull the phone out of his pocket. "Eppes," he answered.

"Don, it's David. The three students..."

"Sorry, Greg, I took too long. Whoever it was hung up." Don flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Turn it off," Daniel said, "We don't need any other interruptions."

Alan moaned and Don took a step toward him.

"Stay put," LoBella snarled.

Don glanced at LoBella and then turned his attention to his father. "Dad, are you okay?"

Alan nodded and grimaced as he reached up to rub his face. Daniel reached down and yanked Alan to his feet. "Get up, old man," he growled.

Alan staggered and reached up to hold his aching head.

"Stop it!" Don lunged at Daniel. Daniel released Alan and punched Don in the stomach. Alan slumped to the floor as Don doubled over, clutching his stomach.

"No!" Charlie tried to pull away from Greg's grip, but the pain in his arm stopped him.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you Professor," Greg gave Charlie's arm another brutal twist.

Jason yanked Don back and pressed the barrel of the gun to the agent's temple. "Greg, what are we going to do now? Stealing those paintings is one thing. Killing a Fed is something completely different."

"Oh, we're not going to kill the Fed, Jason. I'm hoping he'll change his mind before it comes to that. What do you think, Daniel? Will hurting his daddy or his baby brother be more likely to give us the desired outcome?"

"You've had all the fun so far. Let me try." Daniel wrapped his left arm around Alan's neck in a choke hold and slammed his right fist into the older man's kidney.

At his father's grunt of pain, Don lunged forward again. "No!!" He was brought up short by Jason grabbing his arm and yanking him roughly back. Panting, Don looked from Alan to Charlie. How could he let them suffer over a painting? Alan's knees had buckled and Daniel's arm around his throat was the only thing that kept him from falling to the floor. Charlie gazed back at Don. His sleeve was soaked in blood and he was slumped back against Greg Spencer.

Spencer chuckled. "Well, Fed? Is that stinking painting really worth it? It's just an old canvas with a bunch of cracked paint on it." He looked down at Charlie's arm. "Looks like the professor here popped his stitches. That's gotta hurt. I wonder how much I can twist it before something breaks." Charlie groaned as Greg pulled on his arm.

"Wait," Don said. "You're right. Why don't you let them go and take me to the FBI? We'll get the painting."

Greg smirked at Don. "Yeah, right. That's not going to work."

Don shrugged. "What do you suggest? I'm trying to work with you here."

Greg glanced at Daniel and Jason. "Do you guys have any suggestions?"

Don shook his head. "I don't believe it. You three are supposed to be smart, or you wouldn't have gotten into Cal Sci. Don't tell me you came here with no idea of what you were going to do."

"Crap," Jason murmured. "He's right, Greg. What are we going to do?"

Daniel eased Alan to the floor. "Why don't we keep these two and send the smart guy there to go pick up the painting and bring it back? He's not going to run off and leave his father and brother to our tender mercies."

Jason shook his head. "I don't know, Daniel. What if he comes back with a truckload of armed feds?"

Greg grinned. "His brother and father will be dead before they make it through the front door."

"But what about us?" Jason asked.

"It's not going to happen. You really think your buddy there is going to risk the lives of these two? He'll come back with the painting, all by himself and he'll let us leave."

"I'll do it," Don said softly.

Charlie looked at Don, stunned. "Don, you can't."

Don looked at Alan, unconscious on the floor, then looked back at Charlie. "I have to, Buddy." He met Greg's gaze. "I'll bring the painting back. If I find out you've done anything else to them..."

"Empty threats, Eppes?" Greg asked. "Don't worry. If you keep up your end of the bargain, we won't hurt them. Jason, let him go. What do you think, Eppes? Will an hour be long enough?"

"That's not a lot of time to get downtown..." Don objected.

Greg shrugged. "Use your lights and sirens. See you in an hour."

--

Don resisted the urge to look back at the house as he walked to his SUV. As he reached for the door handle, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find himself face to face with David.

"Stay back," Don glanced nervously at the house. "They might be watching."

David took a step back into the bushes. "What's going on?"

"Weimar, Spencer and LoBella have got Dad and Charlie. They gave me an hour to get the painting and bring it back here."

"Are they okay? Are you okay?"

"Been better," Don growled. "I've got to get going." He glanced back at the house and made a show of fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

"Okay. Drive down the block. Colby and Liz are waiting there."

Don unlocked the door and pulled it open. Without looking back at David, he said, "Weren't you listening? They've got Dad and Charlie!"

"We're ready to get them, but we need to know what's going on inside. Now, go, before they wonder what's going on."

Don sighed. "Okay. But this had better work." He slammed the car door and backed out of the driveway.

He was out of sight of Charlie's house when he saw Colby's SUV. He pulled over and parked. He climbed out of the car, pressing his hand to his aching belly. When he pulled his hand away, it was red with blood. "Damn," he mumbled. He looked up to see Liz and Colby walking down the driveway toward him.

"Don!" Liz hurried toward him. "Oh, God, Don! You're bleeding! Are you okay?"

Don glanced down at the red spot on the front of his gray sweatshirt. "I'll live. I hope David knows what he's doing. I'm supposed to be picking up the Van Gogh and bringing it back here. They've got Dad and Charlie and they gave me an hour."

Colby took out his cell phone. "I'll call and have the painting brought here. Just in case."

Don bit his lip. "Thanks. So, what's the plan?"

Liz nodded toward David, who was approaching. "We're familiar enough with Charlie's house, David figured we could get in and take the three of them by surprise. But we need to know the situation in there."

Colby closed his phone. "Okay, Gary will be here in about twenty minutes with the painting."

"Gary?" Don was perplexed. "Why him?"

David grinned. "Since we're still worried that we might have another mole, we decided to store the painting in LAPD's evidence lockup."

Don chuckled. "That's a great idea. Hey, David, I'm sorry I snapped at you back there."

"It's okay. I understand. You're worried about your family. So what's going on inside? Are they armed?"

"LoBella has a gun. I don't know about the other two. Charlie went in first, and apparently Spencer caught him by surprise. When Dad and I got there, he had Charlie and was twisting his bad arm."

"Okay," David said, "what kind of shape were your dad and Charlie in?"

"Charlie's arm was bleeding again. I'm thinking it might be broken. He was in a lot of pain. Other than that, he seemed okay. Dad... they hit him a couple of times. He was unconscious when I left. But I don't know if it was anything life threatening." Don ran his hand through his hair. "We've gotta get them out of there."

"And how are you?"

"I'll be fine." He pressed his hand to his belly. "I think I just busted my stitches."

"All right," Colby said, "where in the house are they?"

"They were in the dining room when I left. Just inside the front door. Oh, and I told Spencer that we had the two ring leaders, and he said something about me not knowing what I'm talking about. You think that means there's another ring leader we haven't caught yet?"

David nodded. "Could be. Listen, when we get Charlie out of there, we can have him and Amita look at that possibility. You have a key to the back door?"

"Yeah." Don reached in his pocket for his keyring.

"Okay, here's the plan. Colby and I are going through this guy's back yard into Charlie's back yard. With your key, we'll let ourselves in through the back. Liz will go to the front door once we're inside and create a distraction."

"You're forgetting someone," Don said softly.

"No, I'm not. You're staying here."

"I'm coming with you."

Colby shook his head. "Not a good idea, Don. You know it's never smart to have family members involved."

"It's not the same, Granger. I'm not just family. I'm an agent..."

"Who happens to have an emotional stake in the outcome of this case," Liz said.

"And you don't?" He glared at the three agents. "Don't try to tell me the three of you don't care about Dad and Charlie. Don't try to tell me you don't have an emotional stake in this too."

"It's not the same," David said quietly.

"Listen, instead of Liz going to the front door, why don't we wait until the painting gets here, and I'll take it into the house? I'll be the distraction while you guys take them out from behind."

Colby, Liz and David exchanged glances. David nodded, "It could work."

Liz agreed, "They'll be expecting Don. He'd have an easier time getting in there than I would."

Colby put a hand on Don's shoulder. "While we're waiting for Gary, let's go sit in my car. We can have a look at that wound. We don't want you passing out from loss of blood."

Don estimated he had checked his watch fifteen or twenty times as he and his team worked out the details of their upcoming rescue. He had let Colby replace the gauze pads covering his wound, but he refused any other medical treatment. "We don't have the time," he insisted. Finally an unmarked LAPD car pulled up alongside Colby's car.

Lt. Gary Walker climbed out of the car, carrying the painting. "Eppes, sorry to hear about your family. What can I do to help?"

Don took the painting, smiling feebly. "You've just done it. Thanks, Gary."

"You're not looking too healthy. You gonna make it?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Gary."

"If you don't mind, I'll hang around for the excitement."

"You'll have to ask David. He's in charge."

At Gary's inquiring glance, David said, "Sure, Gary. You never know. We might be able to use your help."

As Colby, David and Liz got into their vests, Don studied the painting. So much agony for this? He closed his eyes, picturing his family. Charlie, face filled with pain, yet still defiant. Alan's anger as he grabbed Weimar's arm, disregarding any risk to his own safety.

"Don?"

He opened his eyes and saw David's worried expression. "I'm okay. Just collecting my thoughts, you know? Let's do it."

David scrutinized Don's face, then nodded and patted Don on the back. "They'll be fine, Don."