Disclaimer: la de da…still don't own them, though I still wish I did!
Dedication: This chapter goes to strangexbutxtrue, who completely re-wrote my whole ending (from halfway through this chapter at the phone call on)for me with her phone-call suggestion. It's my favorite part of this chapter, and without your help, it wouldn't have happened. Thank you! Oh, and, of course, to Alisha, whose mantra of, "Oh, suck it up and write already! Just drink some more coffee, you're not that tired!" was about the only thing that got me through this. Thanks for all your not-so-subtle-or-really-very-helpful help, girl. You know I love you.
CHAPTER 4: The Game
27 hours, 38 minutes left
3:19 p.m.
Charlie sighed, gazing at the square on the map. When he'd first discovered the rectangle, it had seemed so small and insignificant. He felt sure that he could handle whatever was in that square. After all, eight city blocks wasn't that big, right?
That was before he'd learned, however, that the entire rectangle was a condemned zone, and that every building in that zone was empty and abandoned. The man they were searching for could be anywhere. He leaned his forehead against the cool paper, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He could do this. He had to. Everyone was counting on him.
A gentle hand came to rest on his back, between his shoulderblades. "How're you doing, son?" Alan asked, studying his youngest with a concerned eye.
"I'll be fine, Dad." He assured his father, pulling back from the map and studying it again. "I just need some more coffee."
"When was the last time you slept, Charles?"
Charlie winced internally. He knew he was in trouble. "I. . .I don't remember." He confessed, avoiding his father's gaze by studying the map again, hoping against hope to find any clue… anything. "Hey…hey, Dad! Look at this!" How had he missed it?
Alan leaned over, his tired eyes trying to find whatever it was that had Charlie so excited. "What, Charlie? I don't see it."
Charlie leaned forward as well and pointed to the tiny printed name of a long alley they had somehow missed, "Baxter Circle".
"Baxter Circle?" Alan repeated, staring incredulously at his son. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"The kidnapped girl…her name was Chrissie Baxter, Dad. Do you think it's just a coincidence?"
"Could be. Then again, what other leads do you have?"
"Absolutely nothing, except that the man who took Don and Chrissie is somewhere in this square." He blinked back a new wash of tears. Now that his part of the investigation was over, it was finally beginning to sink in. . .he could lose his brother forever.
Alan's hand landed on the top of his son's head, gently stroking back the curls and tucking them behind Charlie's ear. "It's going to be okay, Charlie." He said, much more conviction sounding in his words than he felt in his heart.
The younger man nodded, allowing himself to be pulled into a gentle embrace. "I'm proud of you, son." Alan told his youngest. "Not many people could have done what you did with that kind of pressure."
"It's not over yet, Dad…" Charlie pulled away gently. "Where are Terry and David with those officers?"
23 hours, 57 minutes left
5:03 p.m.
Charlie gazed out the window as David careened wildly around street corners, traffic, and anything else that got in his way, lights whirling and siren blaring. He squealed to a stop in the middle of a silent, deserted street and shut off the engine. The lights and siren died instantly.
"Seventeen minutes." He reported proudly, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Yeah, and next time, I drive, Speed Demon." Terry retorted, climbing shakily from the back of the car and silently worshiping the solid ground beneath her feet. "Well, where are we?"
"At one end of Baxter Circle, which, ironically, doesn't go in a circle." Charlie's voice was as close to sarcasm as either of his companions had ever heard. He climbed down from the car and stood in the middle of the street, gazing despondently at the deserted alley. It was lined on both sides with empty houses and storefronts. Broken windows and graffitied walls gave the entire street a desolate look. As he stood on the broken pavement, trying to decide exactly how long these buildings had been in disrepair and how safe they would be to enter, another thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Terry?"
She turned at the sound of his voice, and he was confronted with the first true look he'd had of her in two days. Her skin was ghastly pale, her eyes dull and red-rimmed (had she been crying?), and she looked uncharacteristically disheveled. "Yes?"
He shook his head, clearing it. "Are you sure I'm, uh. . .allowed to be here?"
Her eyes widened as though this thought hadn't yet occurred to her. Her look of surprise slowly changed to thought. "You know, I'm not really sure. But. . ." She shrugged. "We don't have the time to care. You stay, and I'll take the heat if it goes down."
He nodded, and she offered him a weak smile before turning back to the crews assembled before her. Just as she began to bark out orders, taking the lead as she'd been instructed, Charlie's cell phone rang. He glanced around, afraid to answer, but at David's encouraging nod, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID window, "Unknown Number".
Hesitantly, he answered it, "Hello?"
"I—Is this Doctor Eppes?" The voice was small, unfamiliar, and very frightened.
"Yes…who is this?" His voice sounded just as unsure as hers.
"My n-name is Christine Baxter."
"Oh, my. . .Chrissie Baxter!"
"Yes." She sniffed slightly, as if trying to control her tears. "Y—your brother gave me your n-number."
He was bursting with a million questions, but he knew he needed to get some help to Chrissie right away. Hadn't Don told him something about FBI tracing cell phone signals? "Hang on, Chrissie. TERRY! DAVID! Come here, quick!" He called. "Is Don with you?" He asked the frightened girl, knowing his voice sounded as desperate as he felt.
"Yes, he's. . . here." Her voice was breaking up, but it wasn't fear that was causing it. Static was beginning to cloud her words. ". . . talk to him?"
"Yes! Hurry, Chrissie, I'm losing your signal!"
David drew up beside him. "Hold on, Charlie. We'll see if we can get a trace. Give me a minute and a half." He was already dialing his own phone as he spoke.
"I need you to stay with me." Charlie called into the phone. "Can you hear me?"
"Charlie?" The voice this time was familiar and welcome, however unsteady.
"Don?" Tears of relief sprang to his eyes. "Don, are you okay?"
"I'll be fine. . .." He could hear the lie in his older brother's voice, but he didn't dare counter it. "Just. . . careful, okay?"
"Don? Donnie, I'm losing you! Don?"
". . .know. Be careful. . .love you."
Charlie cursed under his breath. "Love you, too, Don." He said softly, unsure if his brother could even hear him. Only static answered.
He gave up and closed the phone. David had his back to him and was speaking hurriedly, "Okay. . .yes, okay. Got it. No, that's alright. Thank you."
He hung up and turned to the younger man, who was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, clutching his phone so hard that David feared he might shatter it. He grinned, the first true smile any of them had given in two days, "We got it."
A wave of relief so powerful it made his head spin washed over the breathless consultant. "You got it." He repeated breathlessly, hopefully "Where?"
"1302 Baxter Circle. You were right." He offered, patting the shorter man's shoulder with a concerned smile. "Come on, let's move."
23 hours, 26 minutes left
3:34 p.m.
Charlie followed the squadron of special agents down the shattered sidewalk. He was amazed by the incredible silence they somehow managed to maintain. They made only slightly more sound than a snowfall when they moved.
The whole troop paused outside the door of house 1302, arranging themselves on the porch. Just as Terry raised her arm to execute the order to go through the door, Charlie's cell phone rang cheerfully. He waved at Terry to catch her attention, then held out the phone so that she could examine the ID window, "Don Cell".
She gave him the go-ahead, so he opened it, accepted the call, and answered, "What?"
"Incredible work, Doctor Eppes. You solved the puzzle with nearly a day left to go. We're very impressed."
Though he noted the change from "I" to "we", Charlie decided not to comment on that at the moment. Terry pressed a small scrap of paper into his hand, Stall him, She had written, Ask about Chrissie and Don. 90 seconds to trace. Hopefully, he hasn't taken out the GPS chip. She moved away, searching her pockets for her cell phone.
"Can we have Chrissie and Don back now that we've played your game?" Charlie asked, doing his best to force the waver out of his voice.
"You've played only part of the game, Charles. Only half." He leered, clearly enjoying the torment and worry in Charlie's voice. Terry had found her phone and was dialing as quickly as her fingers would move. The other agents were still frozen on the porch, waiting for a command. "And tell your little blonde agent to get off that phone or the game ends now, and they both die."
Frantically, Charlie waved at Terry, trying to catch her attention before the call went through. "He can see you!" He mouthed to her. "Put it away!"
She scowled, but obeyed, moving back to join the other agents on the porch and speaking to David in hushed, rapid tones. This guy was really beginning to get on her nerves.
"Now listen carefully, Charles, because I'm only going to say this once." The stranger's voice had changed from cold to oily in the instant he'd been silent. "There's a riddle you have to solve before you go in there. One single wrong move, and not only will the girl and your brother die, but so will everyone inside with you. Are you ready?"
He swallowed. There was no time to think, no time to ask for advice. He had to make this decision, and he had to make it now. "Yes."
"Good answer. I know your specialty is mathematics, but I wanted to give you a little bit of a challenge. You can handle it. Now, inside that house, the door opens immediately onto a hallway with nine other doors. One door leads to the Baxter girl and to your brother. If you open that door, you can leave with them, no repercussions. However, there is an explosive device wired to the back of each of the incorrect doors. Open the wrong one, and that sets it off. The house will be demolished before you have the chance to move. Ready? Here's the riddle:
Every door before you see
One and four and two and three
The one behind and both ahead
Will not go where you want led
Of the most, the first erase
One of the rest must you embrace
Six are left from which to choose
Center doors are both ill news
The door you seek is on the side
That the greatest number does not reside
Two are left, just one hint more
The choice you want is one lone door.
Got it? Good luck, Charles." With that, the voice on the phone died and Charlie was alone, repeating the crazy words in his mind over and over.
"Charlie? Charlie, are you okay?" It took Terry's hand on his arm to bring him back to the present. "What did he say? What's going on?"
He explained to her as quickly as he could, his voice stumbling over the words now firmly imprinted in his mind as he repeated the peculiar riddle. His throat suddenly seemed closed, his chest tight. How on earth was he ever going to manage to think out a riddle with his brother's life on the line?
"Okay, then." She said softly when he'd finished. Her voice brought him back to reality, an anchor that he'd never been more grateful for. "I think it would be best if we took only a few people in. Do you want to come, or do you want to give me the puzzle and wait out here?"
He nodded immediately. "I can't stand just hanging around here anymore." He confessed.
"Then it will be just you, me, and David, plus a couple of gunmen…just for safety." She turned to the crowd assembled on the steps and drew a shaky breath. The fear in Charlie's eyes, she knew, was a mirrored image of the terror in her own. Despite everyone's repeated assurances, she felt responsible for Don's condition. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him. She had to be strong. There would be time for emotions later. "Stand down, everyone. Moore and Templeton, you come with us. David, you and Charlie and I are going in. There are explosives in there, so everyone watch your step."
Jordan Moore and Andrew Templeton, two well-built and well-trained sharpshooters that had been with the bureau longer than even Don had, carefully made their way in the front door and cleared the hall, then stood back against the wall as instructed, looking calm and unshaken; the other end of the spectrum from any emotions Charlie was having. The young genius stood in the middle of the unlit hall and gazed at the wooden room, slowly spinning around on the creaky floorboards. Terry was leaning against the wall for support, watching him. David stood next to her, waiting patiently, looking an awful lot more concerted than she felt. She knew that he wasn't nearly as together as he looked, however. In the short time she'd known David Sinclair, she had learned that beneath his hardened exterior lay an emphatic and caring person. His faux calmness helped ease her zinging nerves, however. She laid a hand on Charlie's arm and signaled for silence, then called in a soft and carrying tone, "Chrissie? Don? Can you hear me?"
Only the silence of an lifeless home answered her. Something scuttled along the baseboard beside her, and she concentrated on not jumping. She was far too unnerved. "Christine? Don? Answer me if you can!" She kept her voice low, but made sure that it was conveying through the thick walls and doors. Again, there was no answer.
"They're probably unconscious. This guy wouldn't want it to be too easy, right?" Terry had always thought that Jordan Moore had had a pleasant voice, but right now, she wanted nothing more than to slap her soundless. The woman seemed far too unconcerned about the lives that were in their hands, leaning against the wall, arms crossed lazily across her chest, safety goggles dangling from one nonchalant finger, looking for all the world as though she were sitting across a table, discussing life over drinks.
"Then we're going to have to do this his way. What's the first line, Charlie?"
"'Every door before you see, one and four and two and three.'" He repeated immediately, gazing around the room.
"That obviously refers to the doors." David pointed out with a small smile. Charlie chuckled obligingly, but there was no humor in the sound. The southern door, the one they had entered through, was the only one on that wall. The western wall had four tall, wide-set mahogany doors. The northern wall had two more exactly like them, and the eastern wall had another matching set of three.
Before anyone could ask the dazed mathematician, Charlie rattled off the next lines, "'The one behind and both ahead will not go where you want led.'"
"Okay, scratch the north and south walls then." Andrew Templeton piped in. "Here." To help clarify, he moved Jordan before the door they'd entered through and went to stand in front of the northern wall. Terry smiled at him, appreciating the gesture. She was sure that even Charlie, under pressure like this, was going to have trouble keeping the cancelled doors straight.
Charlie paced on, "'Of the most, the first erase; one of the rest must you embrace.'"
"That would be…which one, exactly?" Terry chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.
David turned to face the western wall. "'Of the most would obviously refer to the most number of doors'…and since everything else has been mapped from the front door, my safest guess to which was the 'first' would be the far left door." He snatched Jordan's safety glasses from her hand and laid them on the floor before the aforementioned door.
Terry took an unsteady breath, "Then what?"
"'Six are left from which to choose,'" A glance around revealed this to be accurate, and Charlie pressed on, "'The center doors are both ill news.'"
"Okay, then." David nodded and he and Terry simultaneously moved to stand before the remaining center doors—second from the right on the western wall and in the center of the eastern wall.
"'The door you seek is on the side that the greatest number does not reside.'" Charlie closed his eyes. The tension and fear was clouding his mind, muddling his thoughts. Don's voice echoed through his head, "Detachment is everything, Charlie. Someday, it might save your life." Forcing his eyes to open and his mind to clear, he nodded. "The western wall is out, then." He said tentatively. "So here are the last two lines: 'Two are left, just one hint more; the choice you want is one lone door.'"
"'One lone door?'" Terry repeated. "But the only 'lone' door is the one we came in! What is he saying, that we have to chance it?"
"I don't know." Charlie confessed, studying the wall of doors. One lone door, one lone door. That has to mean something… He continued to gaze at the wall, but no answers leapt from the wood.
David came to his side and tossed Jordan's goggles back to her, studying the eastern wall with the same pensive look as Charlie's. "I think…I think he meant this door." He pointed to the far right door. "Compared to the other one, it's lone…just one door on one side, instead of two."
"Well," Terry, too, moved to stand beside Charlie, flanking him between her and David. "There's only one way to find out."
"It was my suggestion...I'll open it." Raising his chin, David crossed the protesting floorboards and laid a hand on the handle. Terry caught Charlie's arm in both hands, holding her breath. Somewhere in his subconscious, he noted that her hands were trembling.
David's eyes closed as he twisted the handle. He had to be right. Taking a deep breath, he gave the door a shove, bracing himself for a wave of indescribable heat. Instead, a breath of cold air washed over him, and his eyes sprang open. He was alive, and he was right!
The room, at first glance, appeared to be empty, and his heart sank. When he stepped farther in, however, a closet along the left-hand wall jumped into view. He heard the footsteps of the rest of his squad as he hurried toward it. He threw the door open, and, lying on the floor of the dusty, bug-corpse-littered closet, were the rewards of their search, both as limp and unmoving as death. He knelt immediately, feeling first for a pulse at Chrissie's throat, then Don's. He looked over his shoulder at the gathered crowd, gasping for breath, though he hadn't been running. "Alive. They're both alive."
Charlie seemed to collapse against the wall, and Terry let out a sound that was half-sob, half exhalation. "Oh, thank God. Let's get them out of here." She rasped, moving forward on unstable legs to help him. Jordan and Andrew were examining Charlie with concern.
David nodded, pulled a pocket knife from his hip, and gently cut Don's zip-tie bonds away, then slung one of his arms around his shoulder. Andrew started forward to help, but Charlie caught his arm. "Can I?"
Andrew shrugged, "Sure, kid. Knock yourself out."
Charlie moved in David's direction, catching his brother's arm and awkwardly pulling it over his shoulders, then clumsily followed David's lead, sliding his left arm under his brother's knees and using his right hand to hold Don's arm in place. His brother's breath on his cheek brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back. They needed to get out of this deathtrap first.
Andrew had gone to help Terry, instead, and they followed Charlie and David out the door, hurrying as quickly as they dared. Jordan, finally serious, followed as a cover.
They stumbled out the front door into the freezing night beyond, and Charlie was glad to see that one of the agents had had the good sense to call for ambulances, which waited at the curb, red-and-white lights reflecting off the otherwise-empty street. As soon as they cleared the porch, EMTs swarmed over them, lifting Don and Chrissie from their arms and hurrying them toward the waiting ambulances.
Charlie watched them go, unsure what to do. Terry's gentle hand on his shoulder caught his attention, "…Charlie!"
"Sorry, what?"
"Go with them, I said. Go with Don, wait at the hospital. Call your father. We're going to finish here."
"Okay. Thanks, Terry. Hey! Hey, you! Wait!" He clasped her hand for just a moment, then raced after the ambulance that had already loaded Don. "I'm his brother, and I'm coming with you!"
Terry smiled after him, "Take care of them, Charlie!" and turned back to the house to wait for the bomb squad, but her heart went with the screeching ambulance, and she was blinking away tears.
TBC…
Wow. Longness. I am so sorry for my lack of updates. This chapter was hell. Seriously. I thought it was going to be my favorite chapter to write, but…wow. I don't really care for it, but it was the best out of the ideas I had come up with. I tried to make it work:) They will get better, I promise. Hey, it could be worse…I was going to end this chapter with David's hand on the doorknob. Then Alisha decided for me that that was too mean. She spoils all my fun:) Now for thanks!
Midnight Dove: Who wouldn't want to hug Charlie! Hee hee…I'm glad you like it! Thank you for sticking with me so long. You're wonderful!
The Smiley: Thank you for the compliment…Charlie's surprisingly hard to write sometimes, so I'm not often sure how well it comes across. And yes, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. Gotta love him! My favorite part of the show is the family interaction, so I try to bring it across in my stories as well as I can. Thanks for the sweet review, you're awesome.
Leo Diabla: Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…What are we going to do with you:Shakes head: You're great, girl. You make me laugh like no one else. Charlie certainly does rock, doesn't he? Love that man!
Takada Saiko:Blushes like mad: It's nice to know you enjoy it so much! It just makes my day when people like my story! And, I feel as though I've said this somewhere before, CHARLIE RULES! Hee hee…he got Don back, see! YAY! Hope you can stay in your seat this time!
Kimmlein: Wow, I'm indescribably glad that you liked your gift chapter. It was the source of six hours of sweat and nausea for me. I'm so glad the end result was worth it. I hope chapter four is worth the read as well. Thank you for all your wonderful encouragement, girl. I'm so glad you're enjoying it.
strangexbutxtrue: I'm glad you liked the beginning part, and I hope you liked the phone call. I don't know if that's what you had in mind, but it popped into my head and my muse clung to it like a life preserver. Stupid thing, I swear I'm going to fire it. LOL. Thanks for all your reviews. You're great!
BrokenSpirit20: Darn them anyway, right? Stupid sponsors. ;) Here's a chapter for your addiction, and I hope it's worth it! Thanks so much for your review.
Teyla Sheppard: I'm so glad you like it. Yes, shame on me, but I am enjoying it! Hee hee! Don and Terry are so meant to be together. They just work, you know? The chemistry is right in your face, isn't it? And I guess we learned a little more about David in Sabotage. :Blinks: wow, that was awesome with the way he handled that bomb, wasn't it? He rocks, too. Thanks for your great review. You make me grin like a mindless loon.
Lady-of-the-Rings: I'm glad you love it. That thrills me. And Don and Chrissie are alive, if not necessarily in the best condition. You'll have to wait and see! Thanks for the great review. You're awesome.
wandering ghost: Oh, geez, you make my cheeks hurt from so much smiling. Your review totally made my night. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it. I hope this chapter is up to par…Thanks so much for your review.
Kimmilein: (again, LOL) Thank you, thank you, thank you:hugs: As I said, I am SO glad you liked it. You rock! Again!
Teyla Sheppard: Thanks again! You're awesome for reviewing even this chapter. It was actually kind of fun and relaxing to write, because it was just a fill-in, you know? I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway, and thank you again for your review.
Leo Diabla:Blushes some more: Wow, the blushworks are getting a workout tonight. I'm glad the POV came across well to you. It was fun to write from Don's POV. He's got a don't-mess-with-me attitude that's so fun to put on paper. Thanks for the review, hon! You so very rule!
Chibi Chingo: Thank you! I hope you like this one as well, and thanks tons for your review.
Belligerent-road-pylon: Let me tell you, it is so much more fun to be on this side of cliffhangers. I love to write them, but I try to minimalize them so as not to give my readers brain aneurisms or heart attacks or something. Hee hee… but thanks for your review, and LOOK! Don is back, and let me tell you, the next chapter's going to be a wild ride!
THANKS AGAIN EVERYONE! YOU MAKE ME SMILE LIKE NOTHING ELSE!
Next chapter: Emotional family reunion (if I'm good at anything, it's sap, let me tell you, and it will flow freely in chapter 5), a track-down of a criminal, and a weird twist. Plus, more Don/Terry stuff. Oh, yes, it will pick up.