Author's Note- Sorry this took so long in coming out. Real life interfered. I hope this was worth the wait. If not, please tell me what changes I can make to make it worth while. Thanks to everyone for reviewing my first chapter.

Alan Eppes carefully examines a package of ground beef before placing it in his cart. He is nearly done his grocery shopping for the week.

He walks down the aisle, his mind caught up in thought. He recalls how strangely his youngest son, Charlie, had sounded over the phone only moments before.

"How are you today?" a young grocery cashier asks. He smiles.

"Just fine, thank you." She begins to scan the items.

"Did you see the shoot out on the news this week? It was incredible!"

"No, I didn't." Alan remembers the day he stopped watching the news. It had been about two years ago, when he had heard the news anchor say, "…Agent Don Eppes was injured, and was transported immediately to L.A. Medical." Alan can still remember the acidic taste in his throat, and the terrible cold feeling in his stomach that rose when he heard the phone ring, telling him that his son had been hospitalized for a concussion from being hit by the butt of a rifle. Alan had been alone at the house; his wife had been grocery shopping and Charlie had been at CalSci. Alan and Don had decided it was best not to let the rest of the family know about Don's injury, though his wife's suspicions had been raised when Don mysteriously passed out at the dinner table.

Alan knows his eldest son's job is dangerous. He worries for him constantly, unlike Charlie. Charlie has rarely ever been aware of his brother's daily risk. He lives in a world of equations and expressions, where death does not exist. Alan does not, however. Unfortunately, Charlie had been given a taste of fear this past week. Don had been shot, not badly, but enough to worry Charlie.

"Have a good day, sir," the cashier says as Alan departs the store, quite preoccupied. As much as he is worried about Don, Charlie's anxiety frightens him more. He can only imagine the turmoil his youngest son is putting himself through.

Don glances out of the van's window, swallowing hard. It has been a tough week, but he has faced far more difficult situations.

So why are his hands trembling?

He tries to rationalize his fear. Surely, he's just worried about Terry and David. They are risking a lot, being the true decoy.

But the truth is, his anxiety has nothing to do with Terry or David. Terry knows how to handle herself, and she will look out for David.

Don closes his eyes for a brief moment. He knows from where his anxiety stems.

He recalls words from only a few days before, filled with anger and fear. At the time, Don had not wished to understand exactly what the words meant.

"Why, so you can get shot again?" A voice that Don loved to hear, filled with so much bitterness frightened him. That voice was not meant to sound so dark, so self-accusing. It was meant to sound bright, filled with happiness and intelligence. Don recalls the incredible look of guilt on his brother's face as he said those words. It was almost as if Charlie felt responsible for putting his brother in the situation.

"Statistically, you're dead now. You understand what the means? A man pointed a gun at your head, and fired. The fact that you survived is an anomaly, and is unlikely that it will be the outcome to a second such encounter."

Damn it, Charlie, do you always have to be so damn frank? Don asks silently as he recalls the matter of fact tone in his brother's voice. It was unnerving at the time, and still is as Don hears over the radio that the suspects have taken the bait. He braces himself as the van makes a sharp turn onto an exit ramp. It's almost time.

Don takes a deep breath, trying to visualize a calming scene, as he always does before a situation of this intensity. He tries to imagine what tonight will be like. A not so quiet dinner with his father and brother, filled with laughter and happiness. Eating perfectly seasoned chili, while sipping on an ice-cold cherry cola while listening to his brother share his extremely nerdy math jokes. His father laughing and then coming up with his own quips, each funnier than the last. Don tries to focus on that calming scene, but it slips away.

Instead he sees in his mind's eye a young man, with dark curly hair, and eyes filled with fear and love. He sees dark brown eyes that desperately want reassurance that he will see his older brother alive again. He feels long, thin, trembling fingers tighten the strap on his vest, his only source of protection. He hears Charlie's voice, cracking slightly as he murmurs something about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, something that Don still struggles to comprehend. He knows exactly what his little brother was trying to say, however, and it has nothing to do with math or science.

"I love you, Don. Please, don't die today."

For the first time in his career at the FBI, Don Eppes feels that he has something to lose. He has never feared death for himself, not once. But now, he fears for his brother. Should he die, what would Charlie do?

The answer to that question is more than Don can handle. He cannot face the answer, no more than Charlie could face his death.

"Agent Eppes," the agent next to him whispers. It is time.

"Let's move out," Don says, and prays that he won't have to answer that question today.