Title: Senses Unlatched

Author: Rose With Thorns

Rating: T, for language, gore

Summary: The brothers Eppes find themselves involved in a case that involves students on the campus but it seems there are those who want the case to never be solved. Will the staff be able to find out who's behind all of it?

He staggered on, fighting the desire to fall into the darkness. Just a few more buildings…

Those passing ignored him, bleeding and limping, they ignored the silver chain around his neck, as it dangled on the cement behind him, a high-pitched, light sound. They ignored his bleeding leg as he struggled on.

Finally the doors where before him. His shaking hands slipped on the metal door handle. The little strength he had left was diminishing. A sheriff who was on his way out spotted him and the crimson smear on the door. He jogged forward and helped keep him up.

Finally, he thought, I'm safe. He let his eyes close.

Don had hated the hospital, with its light blue walls that were almost green, and the colored glass bricks that were everywhere. They were supposed to be soothing. They hadn't helped his mother.

The doctor at the end of the hallway looked up from his chart and beckoned Don over. The blinds on the room in front of him were closed shut, and the police officer at the door told him he was at the right room.

"How's he doing?"

The doctor, an older, paternal man who's salt and pepper beard somehow defied gravity and poked straight out in some places, shook his head. Don looked down at his breast pocket: Dr. Gever.

"Poor kid's pretty dehydrated, and there's some burns around his neck. He's borderline anemic, but that obviously comes from those deep lacerations that have already healed. Lot of blood loss over time. There's a pretty deep wound on his wrist, but I have a feeling from the looks of them it's not self-inflicted."

The blind fluttered just enough to reveal a dark haired, teen boy in a hospital bed.

"Why's that? It could have been his attempt at getting hospital attention while he was being held captive." Don had read over the boy's testimony on his way. The poor guy was simply too exhausted to stay awake after it.

The doctor looked around nervously and then pulled Don into the room, but the boy didn't stir.

Gever scratched his beard, and moved towards the bedside with the gait of an older, heavier man. "Look at his wrists for yourself."

There were tooth marks, very clear and very inflamed. "Have you matched up dental records next to these?" Don leaned over as the man nodded. Was he seeing things or-

"It will take a while, they told us, because of how many different sets of bite marks are there. You can see some of them have started to heal. This wasn't the first time someone did this to him."

"Has he given anyone his name yet?"

Gever sighed and shook his head. "He kept calling himself Aelfric, that he can't remember his real name."

There was a spot where the hospital gown clung to something dark, and Don moved it aside. A strange, mark had been cut into his chest over his heart. Two horizontal lines starting from the top left intersected a vertical line to their right.

"What the hell is that?"

Gever looked on wearily. "We're not quite sure, we think, however, it's a symbol that has some meaning."

Don's stomach took that awful tumble he hated so much. It always was a sign of a difficult, long, and baffling case. Gever motioned over to a small, dirty pile of clothes in the corner after he had fumbled with his vibrating pager. "They're what he came in. There's some sort of ID card in there. Take a look, if you want."

Don was suddenly alone with the unconscious boy. He went over to the corner where the clothes were, as well as a Polaroid in an evidence bag. The gash was photographed. He'd make a copy to bring for research with him. The ID was in the pants pocket, and with gloves on, he examined it.

The flimsy piece of plastic was white and glossy, and it had a green insignia on it of a C and an S intertwined in a circle. CalSci's insignia. He was a student.

Charlie locked his classroom door, taking one last moment to look back in and see everything was put away. He'd wiped the board clean today without writing on it again, surprisingly. It must have been some sort of sign of a good day.

Don was going to pick him up today, so they could go shopping for their father. As much as he hated to keep making them pick him up everyday, there was something about sitting behind the wheel that petrified him. The most he'd done was make the car jerk two staggering feet out of a parking space at a park when it was empty and his father had deemed it safe enough to try to. He had been twenty-one at the time.

Don wasn't in front of the school, and neither was his father. Charlie called him from his cell phone and found he was over at the attendance building. Curious, he trekked his way there.

Don's SUV was parked right outside the front door, but he wasn't in it. Charlie made his way up the brick steps to the old house.

It was a tiny Victorian home that had been on the campus, with white siding that showed its age. There was no air conditioning, which would become a problem in a few months. For now, however, in March, it was fine. It felt just as tired and exhausted as many of the people that worked in it.

He wandered around trying to find him, which didn't take quite long since there were only three small floors of tiny offices and an even tinier basement. He was in the latter.

The little old wizened man who was in charge of their ID system was hunched over his keyboard, his oversized glasses reflecting the glare of the screen in the otherwise darkened room. Don stood behind him, head slightly ducked due to the height of the ceiling. Charlie leaned over the railing.

"What's going on?"

Don gave him that old look-the one that obviously meant 'in a minute'-and leaned back over to hear the softly talking man. Don thanked him and headed back up the stairs after Charlie.

"So what was that all about?" Charlie asked as they buckled up in the car. Don had just tossed the plastic evidence bag on the dashboard to be able to buckle. Charlie picked it up before he could stop him.

"It's a case, Charlie."

The younger brother glanced at the card and said the number on it quietly out loud, staring off into the distance. "This is Mark Westell's ID number. He's my student."

Don gave a tired sigh and looked over at his brother with that look of awe. "So you're saying I really didn't need to come over here? How do you know that, anyway?"

Charlie shrugged as they pulled out onto the university's main road, but a look at his face showed his worry. "I get a list of the students in my class, and their ID numbers. I kept looking at his name because he hasn't been to class for two months now. His mother just reported him missing."

"Well, we just found him."

"Then why is the FBI involved? That's usually a police sort of thing."

"Not when there's involuntary slavery involved it's an FBI case."

Charlie's eyebrows disappeared beneath his curly hair. "What? Is he okay? What happened?"

Don shook his head. "He's alive. I can't really say much more than that right now, okay? You know how these things work, hell you still won't tell me about-"

"And I never will. I get it."

The boys road in silence.