Alan Eppes gave a wave through the windshield as he spotted a figure coming out of LAX, then gave the horn a quick blip as his son appeared to look right through him, his eyes still searching the string of vehicles at the curb. Charlie blinked, then raised a hand and shuffled toward him, and Alan popped the trunk, stepped out of the car, and hurried around to the rear to meet him.

"Hey, there," he said, "Welcome home." He cocked his head and gave Charlie a look. "Long time, no see." It came out just a bit archly - he meant it to - but he softened the jab with a smile.

Charlie sighed as he set his computer case carefully on the ground and got two hands on his suitcase. "You're telling me." He looked tired, and now that Alan was next to him, he could see that his son's clothes, typically worn baggy, looked more voluminous than usual. A scan of Charlie's face confirmed his suspicions; Charlie had lost a noticeable amount of weight. His dark curly hair was mussed and unruly, he looked pale and plain worn out, and he struggled to lift his suitcase into the trunk.

Alan jumped forward to help him with it. "Didn't they feed you in D.C?"

Charlie picked up his computer bag and started to head for the passenger side, and Alan closed the trunk and got back into the driver's seat. "Yeah," said Charlie as he closed his door. With another gusty sigh, he leaned his head back on the headrest. "It was just a ton of work - pretty intense."

"And what was it they had you doing?"

Charlie finally met his eyes with a wry smile. "You know I can't tell you that, Dad. I thought I made that clear before I left - and the lack of phone calls should have confirmed it."

"You got that right," Alan agreed, as he pulled his car out into traffic. "One phone call in over a month does not make for a happy parent."

Charlie was silent, and a full five minutes passed before he said, "I thought Don was coming to pick me up."

"Change of plans," said Alan. "He got tied up at work." He sent Charlie a glance. "No worse than what you did to him - leaving in the middle of a case."

"I offered to work on the case while I was out in D.C."

His words, laced with frustration, hung in the air. Alan hadn't known that, and from the way that Charlie phrased the statement, he suspected that Don had turned down the offer. He wondered why. Granted, Charlie would have only been able to spare a few hours in the evenings, and they would have to work over the phone, but surely that was better than nothing.

Charlie broke the silence with a worried grimace. "How did they do?"

Alan shook his head. "Not good. The killer got two more victims before they got him. Took them three weeks after you left. But they did get him."

Charlie rubbed his face. "Crap," he muttered. A pause, then, "Is Don upset?"

"Of course, he's upset. Upset with you? I don't know. You'll need to ask him that." Alan glanced at him. "You were only supposed to be gone for two weeks. It turned into six. You'd think the government could do a better job of predicting than that."

"Yeah, well, the first job was only two weeks. Less than that, actually, but another agency found out I was out there and pulled me in on something during the second week."

"You could have said no."

"Well, no, I couldn't. I was - it was an odd situation. And quit fishing. That's all I'm going to say about it."

He leaned his head back on the headrest and shut his eyes. He did look exhausted, Alan thought. As if he'd been through a war.

…..

Three days later, Don Eppes pulled up in front of his brother's Craftsman home and parked. He just sat for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and finally got out of the vehicle. He didn't want to be there, and the fact that he was had everything to do with appeasing his father and nothing to do with the fact that he had any intention of forgiving his brother. Charlie was undoubtedly brilliant - no one would question that - and his overactive mind eagerly seized on any project put in front of him. Unfortunately, he tended to take on too much because he just couldn't let an unsolved problem lie. Don had to admit that he had taken advantage of that predilection more than once and cajoled Charlie into taking on projects with impossible deadlines. But Don had also been frustrated more than once, by Charlie's incapacity for time management. The last case had been the last straw.

He let himself in the front door, relaxing just slightly when he saw that Charlie was nowhere to be seen, and he strolled into the kitchen to find his father, puttering around at the sink. Alan glanced up at him with a smile, relief apparent on his face. "Hi. Dinner will be ready in a half-hour. There's beer in the fridge. Charlie's out in the garage."

"I thought you said 5:30." Don had fully intended to get there just in time to eat, to cut down on interactions with his brother as much as possible.

"Yes, well, I got a bit of a late start, and the roast was a little on the large side. It'll need a few more minutes."

Conniving old man. He'd done this on purpose. Alan Eppes had spent a good part of his sons' later years trying to get them to connect. And they had done that to some extent, but the connection was tenuous. Charlie still frustrated the hell out of him, and Don didn't think that would change any time soon.

Don was practiced at putting on a flinty expression that revealed nothing, but his father had had years of reading his mind. Alan said, "Go on out. Don't be too hard on him."

Don grumbled something unintelligible, even to himself, snagged a beer out of the refrigerator - just one - and reluctantly pushed out through the kitchen door. He ambled over to the garage door and stopped at the entrance. His brother was staring at one of three chalkboards covered with what looked like scribbles, then he swiveled around to a table behind him and pecked away on his laptop. During a previous case, Don had recently discovered that his brother had consulted for the government, and the thought was still foreign to him, unsettling. His mental picture of Charlie was, well, nerdy, his little brother's head blissfully full of unfathomable theory that had no relation to the real world. The fact that his brother had proven him wrong by helping Don out on his cases still didn't seem to vanquish that picture.

Charlie was so intent on what he was doing, he overlooked Don in the doorway, and Don was in no hurry to start a conversation, so he just stood, took a swig of his beer, and waited. Just the sight of his brother was enough to piss him off, he told himself, although as he watched, he felt a niggling concern. Charlie didn't look so hot, Don thought to himself. Pale, and skinnier than he'd seen him since their mom died. It served him right, running off to Washington like that. They'd undoubtedly worked his ass off. Maybe Charlie would think twice before he consulted for them again. Whoever they were.

He expected a surge of satisfaction at the thought, but there wasn't one - just a sensation of worry, that something was wrong. It was screwing with his righteous anger, and he didn't like it. He cleared his throat, and Charlie jumped and straightened so quickly he almost knocked his laptop off the table. He faced Don, fingering a piece of chalk nervously. "Oh, hi, I didn't see you standing there."

Don didn't greet him, just gave the laptop a curt nod. "Still working on your D.C. assignment?"

Charlie looked somber, and when he wanted something from someone, his eyes made him look like every poor dog and cat in every ASPCA commercial ever filmed. He had those eyes turned on now, dark, uncertain, pleading. He said, "No, just trying to get caught up on something for school." There was silence, and he took a deep breath and said, "Look, I'm sorry about running out on you. But I did offer to follow the case and do what I could. You never called."

Don scowled. The anger was back. "I did call. Three times, the second week that you were gone."

To his credit, Charlie looked genuinely surprised. Don hadn't thought him such an actor. "I never got them," said Charlie. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure," snarled Don. "I got some honey-voiced Southern belle who assured me that she would pass on the messages to you. I never got a callback."

Charlie frowned. "Well, there was a little confusion. I was done with the first job at the end of that first week and was getting ready to go back, but another group heard I was out there and pulled me into something else. That girl you talked to was associated with the first assignment and had nothing to do with the second group. The messages must have gotten lost." He stopped talking, his frown turned a little angry, and he mumbled something under his breath.

Don said, "What?"

Charlie met his eyes. "Or the second group didn't bother to pass on the message because they didn't want me to go."

That, Don had to admit, he could buy. He had worked with enough government agencies to know how territorial they were - his own included. Hell, who was he kidding? When it came to Charlie, he was more territorial than all of them combined. And that was part of the problem. He sighed. "The fact is, I don't know how much you could have done, anyway. I called you because we were desperate, more than because I expected some miraculous results. The guy was a lunatic - he didn't think rationally. I'm not sure if anyone could have predicted what he'd do next. In the end, we got lucky - put some people out as bait in the middle of the night in the last neighborhood he'd hit. The guy attacked, and we took him down. A DNA test clinched it."

Charlie's eyes widened. "He attacked one of our people?"

Don nodded. "There were some LAPD people out there, too, but he picked on Colby. Wrong guy to take on. Megan was just down the block - to the average assailant, she would have looked like a better target - but as I said, the guy was a nutcase. Like a rabid animal, just fixating on whoever he saw, no rhyme or reason to it." He saw Charlie's expression and added, "Colby was fine. And we were right there. The whole takedown lasted less than five minutes."

Charlie nodded, and his gaze drifted down, and then up. Hesitating. "Um, about the backpacking trip…"

Don swore to himself. He'd completely forgotten about that. He and Charlie had had an unexpected kumbaya moment months ago after the close of a case and a few shots of bourbon, and somehow, Charlie had roped him into a backpacking trip in the Inyo National Forest, including an ascent of Mount Whitney. It was coming up soon, Don realized. Charlie had planned a week-long trip, and Don had already requested the time off and gotten conditional approval months ago - the condition being no critical cases. The fact was, he was already less angry with Charlie after realizing that his messages probably hadn't gone through, and he knew that, barring an emergency, he intended to go with him, but he didn't want to let Charlie off the hook. Not yet. Let him stew for a few days. Don admitted that he might be less angry, but he was still irked.

"I don't know," he grumbled. "I've got to double-check our caseload. I'll let you know." He took a last gulp of beer, noting the look on Charlie's face - half hurt, half hopeful. It made Don want to head straight for the nearest animal shelter and adopt a puppy. He turned toward the house and said gruffly, "Come on, dinner's about ready."

Later that night, Charlie Eppes crawled wearily into bed. Don's visit could have gone worse, but it could have been better, he thought. It didn't sound as though his brother was necessarily blaming Charlie for the outcome of the case, but he was still upset with him for leaving when he did. Maybe angry enough to forgo the backpacking trip.

As a trip, it wasn't much - a few days of backpacking in the mountains. Still, as a landmark in their developing relationship, which was moving at about the pace of an iceberg, it was significant, or at least, Charlie reflected, it was significant to him. He and Don didn't do much together outside of work. They hadn't ever taken a trip together, just the two of them, their last trip being a drive up to Portland with their parents one summer, when Charlie was twelve and Don was seventeen, the year before they'd both graduated from high school. Even then, Don hadn't wanted to go. And tonight, he didn't seem all that keen on the hiking trip, and he was clearly still angry over Charlie's defection. Charlie half-suspected that Don might make an excuse, find some case that needed his attention so that he could beg off.

Charlie sighed, frustrated with the situation, and he had to admit, with himself. "You need to learn how to say 'no,' Eppes," he muttered. He closed his eyes; he could vividly remember the conversation with Clare Dunway, the head of the project in D.C.

"Charlie - hi, I'm glad you stopped by. Something has come up that I need to talk to you about."

Charlie smiled at her. "Another assignment? Honestly, it's good we got this one done early; I've got something cooking back at home."

"No, not another assignment - an extension of this one," said Clare, briskly. "We've been invited to meet with the Prime Minister in two days - the whole team, and he will have members of his cabinet and his technical people there to discuss our proposition. We've chartered a plane, and everyone is making arrangements to fly tonight. Senators Ross and Stevenson are coming along as well."

Charlie stared at her open-mouthed for a moment before recovering his composure. "I'm afraid I can't," he said. "That wasn't part of the project. I didn't bring a passport -,"

She cut him off. "That's being taken care of."

Charlie smiled again, trying to be charming. "Surely you don't need a mathematician on this trip. There are plenty of other experts going."

Clare bared her teeth in a smile that looked more frightening than pleasant and launched into a lecture. "You apparently aren't grasping how important this is," she said. "Our competition is the Chinese, and you can bet they have ALL of their people pitching their projects in person, including a platoon of experts. The President is personally invested in this project; we are NOT going to do this half-assed. The original timeframe of this project is two weeks, and we're barely through one. We fly over, the team meets with the Prime Minister and his people, and we fly back. Three days - four days, tops. You will be back in the States; in fact, back in L.A., by the end of the second week. Are we clear?"

Charlie bit back a sigh and nodded. "Yes, perfectly. I guess I'd better go pack."

"For those of you from out of town, I've arranged a shuttle from the hotel to the airport at 5:00 pm. Don't miss it."

It was Charlie's turn for a frosty smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Now, he lay in his bed and stared into the darkness. "Dumbass," he said to himself. It had been one of the worst decisions he'd ever made. Things had gone downhill as soon as he had stepped on that plane. He rolled on his side, trying to put it out of his mind, and a few minutes later, was mercifully claimed by sheer exhaustion.

Author note: So great to be back! I missed you all. I have an exciting announcement - to see it, please visit my profile page!