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I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms out. Larry is sitting a few paces behind me but my arms don't reach. Another yawn escapes from my lips. Larry is talking, I just know it but I can't hear him. I'm just so tired.

"Do you think a test on the second day is extreme?" Those words filter through the haze in my mind and I tilt my head back to see my friend. He looks at me and then holds up a test paper with 100 questions.

I flip my head over nearly falling out of the chair.

"Did you always type up 100 point tests on the second day? What are the questions? "What did you do over break?" A) Went to Disney World. B) Spent…"

"Alright, I see your point, but what if I tested them to see what they know." He turns around and gazes frustrated at the hunk of junk he calls a computer.

"Then don't let it count." He nods though ever so slightly. "What? Aw, did you really want to make that count?" He shakes his head, still not looking at me. Worry hits me and I stand up. Walking over to him I place a gentle hand onto his shoulder. "You okay?"

He sighs and hangs his head lower, "Yes, yes. I'm fine." A knock on the door tears my eyes off of my friend. A woman stands in the door way, eyes wild and chest heaving. My cell phone grasped tightly in an elevated hand.

"Sorry Professor Eppes, your cell phone was ringing and I thought oh, well, they'll leave…" The phone rings again and instead of explaining she throws her hand out. I reluctantly leave Larry's side and take the phone with a slight nod to her.

"Hello," I answer leaning against the wall. When no answer comes I check to see if I answered it right. "Hello?" Again, silence greets me. Impatiently I close the phone.

"Thank you… uh…" The girl perks up and smiles ear to ear.

"Ashley," She helps. "I'm in your next class."

"Oh, well then, I'll see you there." She hops off.

I turn to Larry and take a step back when I see he's not there.

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Lunch break ends and soon thereafter I find myself standing in front of yet another class with more girls than my brother's phone book held in his High School years. Our high School years…

At least this class has a few guys in it. I turn and start writing an equation on the board but stop. I can't get my mind off of Larry. Something is obviously wrong with him. I lean against the board and close my tired eyes; forgetting that behind me rests about 45 full stomached students ready for today's lessons.

"Professor Eppes?" A young woman questions. She sounds so far away though. Maybe she's sitting in the back, or she's standing in the doorway.

The chalk slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. Hushed whispers fill the room and I hear the shuffling of feet. Someone's warm voice questions worriedly from my left.

"Professor, do you want me to get someone?" I pull myself from the board and shake my head.

"I'm sorry…" I stare at her hoping she won't be angry. After all, it is only the second day of classes.

"Amy" She supplies.

"Amy, I'm fine. You may take your seat." I place a hand on the desk to steady myself. When she doesn't move, I take a deep breath ready to convince her only to get the distinct taste of blood flood my mouth. I hide my surprise but still say nothing.

"Um," She starts messing with the hem of her shirt. "Your nose is bleeding."

Immediately, my hand flies up to my nose. I pull it away and gasp at the amount of blood on it. Amy hands me the tissue box off of my desk and I quickly cover my face with a few. I grin trying to cover up my fear.

"A little blood isn't the end of the world, but if you guys will excuse me for a moment." They nod and I leave at first slow, but as soon as I enter the hall I run to the faculty bathroom.

Once in I run to the mirror. I haven't had a nose bleed for years, many in fact. I splash water on my face and keep pressing a few tissues to my nose. Today just isn't turning out to be my day.

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"Have you eaten anything?" Don asks me as I sit twirling around in a desk chair in his office. He called me in after classes saying he needs help.

"Yeah," I lie. Terry is sitting up on a table and David is leaning against the back wall. A few other agents are standing around but I don't recognize them. Don turns to the rest believing me.

"Alright, people, we're dealing with a serial killer. These are the victims." He gestures to the board where six images of young men and women hang. "There appears," He drags "appears" out because he doesn't necessarily know for sure. That's why I am here. "to be no pattern in the locations of these people. As far as we know so far, none of them have even met before."

I zone out from his words and stare intently at the images. I've seen these people before, I just don't know where. Someone walks into the room but I am too engrossed to look up. After the person leaves Don starts saying something much more loudly.

"Charlie!" My head snaps up. "Did you hear me?" His eyes are wild. I shake my head and look back at the pictures. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest," He suggests and bends down to my level. "You're not looking so good."

As much as I'd like to tell him about the dreams and how impossibly bad my day has been going, I can't. Don's a protective older brother. I'm not too sure when it happened, but I guess as he grew older he started expressing how much I mean to him a lot better than when he was younger.

There were times when we were in high school that I actually believed he hated me. Most of which I have willed myself to forget. Now Don will lose sleep if he thinks something is wrong with me and with his job that can be dangerous.

"I'm fine."

"Please Charlie, just go see her," Don cries, not in the least afraid to show me the tears that spill from his eyes. "She's going to die Charlie, don't let her die without talking to you… without seeing you." I don't move.

"God damnit Charlie! Get up there now!" His voice is harsh and angry. It cracks every now and then. Still, I don't move. We're in the garage and every chalk board in the house is set up. I'd take a few down and erase them, but each equation; each number means something.

"Ah!" Don rushed forward grabbing my arm in a death grip. His hand tightens spasmodically into a fist and he throws it up to my face threatening me. Without a second thought, he starts dragging me roughly from the dusty prison.

"Don, please… please don't hurt me." I cower backwards trying to get a good hold on the floor with my feet.

"I'm not hurting you! You're hurting mom! You're hurting Dad! You're hurting me!" He throws me back and I stumble pitifully to the ground. He stomps forward but then stops and turns around as if some great will and force pushes him back.

"Sometimes I want to hit you so bad," His voice is significantly quieter then before. "You just make me so mad." I stand up on wobbly feet and catch the side of the garage for balance. I change the subject quickly.

"Mom hates me, doesn't she?" Don's eyes go wide as he gets half of why I won't go see her.

"No, no, no, she doesn't hate you. She could never hate you," He looks down. "She's too nice for her own good; she could never hate anyone."

"I tried Donny; I tired to go see her but I just… I just," I let out a quiet sob and drop to the ground, my hand trailing down the garage. Don walks over and kneels next to me.

"When?" His caring side coming out again.

"Last night," I answer. "But as soon as I saw her I freaked out I just couldn't take it. I'm sorry." He scoots forward and awkwardly takes me into his arms. We sit there like that for most of the night.

I open my bloodshot eyes and glance around the darkened room. I'm back in my office. Before I can think of anything else the light turns on and Larry stands in the doorway taking in my disheveled appearance with humor. I sit up from where my head was resting on the desk and wait for him to say something.

"Long night?" I merely nod and stand, stretching my limbs out to get some blood running through.

"What're you doing here so late," I ask absent mindedly only to snap back to full attention when I remember our last encounter. "And why did you rush out of the break room so fast? Is something wrong?"

"I'm just about to leave, I normally leave this late, and that is for another time, Charles." I take a few moments to think and then shrug.

"Just promise you'll tell me; I hate when people keep things from me." He chuckles and I walk forward, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder to guide him out.

"Promise," He repeats thoughtfully and we head down the hall. "You want a ride?"

"Nah," I say with a yawn. "The bike is out front and I don't want to have to walk here tomorrow morning." Larry looks at me strangely.

"It is tomorrow morning, my young friend who believes a watch is the devil," I stop him and release my firm hold from him.

"I don't…" I stop, suddenly realizing something about those pictures Don had shown me. "I have to go! Good Night!" I rush down the hall towards the doors; my ears hearing nothing but the slapping of my feet on the ground and a faint "Good morning" from Larry.

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I bang on Don's door again. It's been almost five minutes and still there is no answer. He's not at dad's house; I stopped by there to pick up some papers. Maybe he's at the office. A tiny tinge of worry flurries through me and I pound the door louder and faster.

I barely realize it when the door falls away and Don's tired sleep ridden face appears.

"What! What, Charlie," He grabs my hands and stops me. "What is it? Do you know what time it is?"

"The watch is the devil," I say hurriedly and march into Don's apartment. He follows me. I haven't been in here for a while and apparently nor has he. It's spotless; furniture scarce. There is a loveseat by the north wall and a small coffee table in the middle.

Finding what I want I drop my bag and bring out a heap of papers. Placing them messily on the table; I turn to Don.

"I figured something out," Don walks to the loveseat and collapses face-down onto it. "Four out of… Are you listening to me? Don? Don?" I throw one of the only pillows at him and he groans. "Listen to me!"

"Nothing is that important at 3:00 in the morning," Or at least that's what I think he said, for he still has yet to pull his head off of the cushions.

"Oh I beg to differ," I say angrily and grab for something else to hit him. It's useless though; Don's apartment has more to sit on then to throw. I approach him reverting back to when we were little.

I poke him roughly, "Come on, I'm serious,"

"And I am listening," He says patently and turns his head so he can see me and not suffocate.

"Alright," I step back and kneel in front of the table. I take out four pictures of the six victims and show them to Don. He only stares. "These four kids all attended one of my seminars." I can't help but feel a quick burst of joy.

"Okay, but what about the fifth and sixth one and does that point us in any sort of direction? It sounds like a coincidence to me." The joy floods away and I look hopelessly at the pictures.

"But…" I can't finish; I was stupid to wake Don up, why hadn't I seen that. As if seeing the pain in my eyes my older brother straightens up and tries to comfort me.

"It's okay that might work. Maybe the…" I stand up not even bothering to get my things and I head for the door.

"Don't worry Don; I should've seen it before. I'm so stupid," I open the door.

"No! Charlie you're the smartest person I've ever met! You just made a mistake! I mean, it might not even be a…" I walk out, shutting the door quietly behind me.

I should've thought about it like Don did; I should've seen the flaws.

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I know that there is a link within what Charlie said and it could help Don, but remember, Charlie wants Don's approval and Don woke up 2 minutes before. He's not thinking straight. I guess… Comments and suggestions are welcomed!