Author's Notes: Thank you to all the lovely people to reviewed. Your comments were extremely helpful and appreciated. It took a little doing to complete this and not force it, but I think (read: hope) I got it. Please enjoy responsibly.

Summary: Don just got Charlie back; he can't lose him now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a very hefty credit card bill

Epiphany

Charlie finally managed to corner Terry in the conference room. "Well?" he demanded, all playful innocence and waggling eyebrows.

"Well, what?" Terry responded as if she didn't know what he was asking. Charlie's expression clearly read, "Look, I may be oblivious, but I'm not stupid".

"What did I interrupt?" Charlie sing-songed in a way that made Terry wish she wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, she couldn't, not only because Don would kill her if she so much as tried, but also because Charlie was the sweetest guy she'd ever met and she simply couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.

Well, that, and Charlie so rarely ventured out of his own little world that seeing him so playful (annoying, but playful) was such a relief that nobody she knew could begrudge him his irritating-little-brother phases.

Damn it.

Terry sighed and dropped into one of the chairs. "You didn't interrupt anything, Charlie."

He scoffed. "Yeah, like I'm going to believe that. How about the truth this time?"

"That is the truth. Nothing happened, Charlie."

Charlie, sweetheart that he was, knelt in front of her and looked into her eyes. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"What's hard?"

"Loving, or in my case, liking, someone who's off-limits because of our jobs."

"Oh, Charlie," Terry sighed. "Amita?"

He flushed a dull pink. "Is it that obvious?"

"No, but I'm the psychologist, remember?"

"Right." They shared a smile. "So, how's it going otherwise?"

Terry frowned reprovingly at him. "Did you tell him about our… project?"

Charlie's face froze. "I don't know?"

"Charlie," Terry chided, her disappointment plain.

"You know how I get in the middle of a project! It's like trying to wake up a sleeping teenager; we're willing to say anything just make you go away!" Charlie defended indignantly. "Well, Don must have come in on me while I was working on my latest set of equations and I guess he started asking questions. I don't even remember what he asked me, or what I said, but I do remember him stalking out muttering something about how "she will pay". That's it, Terry, I swear."

Terry raked a hand through her hair. "Well, he got his revenge."

"What do you mean?"

"I got home late the other night and found Don asleep in my bed. I don't know how he got in; I mean, I gave him a spare key in case of emergencies, but I stole that back nearly two weeks ago."

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what, Charlie?" Her voice had taken on that dangerous quality that told the mathematician that he had better cough up some answers and quick.

"My brother, the big, bad FBI agent, has always had trouble keeping track of his keys. He's taken to making at least five copies of each one and stashing them in various places. Chances are, that's what happened to the one you gave him."

Terry stared at Charlie for a second and then the absurdity of it all hit her. Her fearless, oh, so competent partner had problems with losing his keys? That was just so cute…

No! Not cute. Not cute, adorable, endearing; absolutely none of those words that had just crossed her mind. "Oh, Charlie, what am I going to do?"

He shrugged once. "Beats me. I'm the clueless one, remember? I might suggest talking, though."

There was a knock on the door right before it opened and Don poked his head through the opening. He silently took in the sight of his brother kneeling in front of his seated partner for a second and smiled fondly at them. "Is this a private party, or can anybody join?"

Terry stood, bringing Charlie up with her. "What's up?"

"Lunch?" Don suggested. Terry's stomach growled as if in answer and she turned pink as the brothers chuckled. "I'll take that as a "yes". Coming, Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head. "I gotta get back to campus; I just came by to drop off those equations. Are you coming by for dinner?"

Don eyed him speculatively. "That depends. Are you cooking?"

"No." The reply was instant. Don suppressed a shudder as he remembered the first and last time Charlie had cooked.

"Then I'm there."

"See you guys later."

"See you, Charlie." The mathematician exited, and Don and Terry looked at each other. "So, lunch?"

When Terry caught Don staring at her for the third time in ten minutes, she set her cheeseburger down and glowered a bit. "What?"

"So, what makes you think I'm so easily manipulated?"

"It was Charlie's idea!"

"That's not what he said."

Terry's repertoire of curses got another mental airing. She knew as well as he did that Charlie, when extremely distracted, spoke nothing but the truth. It was his unconscious gambit to get rid of whoever was bothering him; tell them whatever they wanted to know and maybe they'd go away. "We thought it would do you both some good. You haven't really been able to be alone together since before you moved back. You boys needed a little time to reconnect."

"Thanks, Terry."

They shared a fond smile. "You're welcome. But I still haven't forgiven you for breaking into my apartment."

To her surprise, Don flushed a light pink. "I, uh, I was going to confront you about manipulating me, but I guess lack of sleep caught up with me."

She eyed him speculatively. "Uh-huh," she said, her tone neither believing not disbelieving.

"Did I tell you that I'm sorry?"

"Not until just now."

"Whoops."

"Yeah, "whoops" is right."

"Now, I have another bone to pick with you."

"And what might that be?"

"Why, in God's name, why did you have to imply to my dad that our first date was the lamest you've ever been on?"

"Why's it matter?"

"Because, when Dad told me about his date, I told him that particular date was the best one I've ever been on."

"Oh."

"Yeah, "oh"."

"For the record, I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"Oh?"

"I mean… Okay, the Laundromat and the pizza were lame."

"Oh, thanks," Don interrupted dryly.

"But it was the company combined with the pizza and locale that made it my favourite date, too."

"Really?" The smile that wreathed his face was the same self-satisfied smirk that he'd been wearing ever since that morning when he'd woken up in her apartment. That smile, added with his highly intrigued tone (the one that said "come on, tell me more"), made her scowl at him. And what was up with the parrot routine between the two of them?

"Yes, really, and now that I've inflated your ego beyond all tolerance it's probably time to head back to the office."

"Oh, come on, Terry."

"Don't you "oh, come on, Terry" me, Don Eppes. You forget; I know you."

"Yes, you do. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The chirrup of his cell phone cut off anything she might have said and Don answered it with an "Eppes".

Terry watched his facial expressions change and quickly paid the bill when he went white. Oh, please, no… "Don, what is it?"

"Our serial bomber's struck again."

"And?"

"It was the CalSci campus."

"Oh, God, Charlie…" Terry's heartbeat stuttered and went straight into double-time.

"He hasn't checked in; nobody knows where he is, and the only thing Larry and Amita could tell the police was that Charlie was working on something and they'd both seen him in his office less than ten minutes before the bomb blew."

Terry snatched the car keys out of his trembling fingers. "I'm driving."

"Terry, I just got my brother back, I can't lose him again; not like this."

"I know, Don." She reached across the SUV's console and squeezed his hand. "But right now Charlie's depending on you to stay clear-headed long enough to help him, if he needs it."

Don drew several deep breaths and visibly relaxed. "Right. Charlie. Can't let him down."

"That's right."

Don and Terry both independently swore their hearts stopped when they saw the devastation done to the math building at CalSci. Containing their fear for one curly-haired mathematician took just about every ounce of concentration they possessed. They tracked down Larry Fleinhardt, Charlie's perennially distracted mentor, and found him absently answering another agent's questions while he continually glanced between the agent and the building. "Larry!" Don called.

Larry turned and relief flooded his face. "Oh, Don, and Agent Lake! I can't seem to – that is, I haven't seen…" He took a deep breath and finished his sentence, "I can't find Charles."

"We'll find him, Larry, I promise," Don vowed as Terry nodded emphatically at his side.

"Oh, good."

"Dr. Fleinhardt, are you hurt?" Terry asked gently as she led Larry towards a paramedic.

"Oh, no, my dear, I was in the library when it happened. I suppose I'm just a little dazed."

"Well, why don't you let the nice medic check you out and Don and I'll get right on finding Charlie."

Terry left Larry in the medic's capable hands and searched out Don, eventually finding him trying to console Amita and interview her at the same time. She watched them for a second, felt that teeny twinge of jealousy that hit her whenever she saw somebody else in Don's arms, but dismissed it without another thought. Amita had it bad for Don's eternally clueless little brother. Don caught sight of her and his whole being screamed for help but David caught up with her at the same time and she transferred her attention to the younger agent. "What's up, David?"

"See, here's the thing: Nobody's been able to find or heard from Charlie, right?"

"Yeah." Unsaid was her "And?".

"Well, I checked the bike racks around and near the building, and Charlie's bike isn't there. What if he went home in the intervening time and doesn't know yet? And we all know how bad Charlie is at keeping his cell phone charged."

For the first time since they'd gotten the heart-stopping phone call, Terry beamed. "David, I could kiss you! Don!"

The elder Eppes gratefully disengaged from Amita and stalked over. "What's up?"

Terry couldn't contain her excitement long enough to let David explain it, so she did, "David had the idea to check the bike racks. Don, Charlie's bike isn't here! What if he went home right after Larry and Amita saw him but he doesn't know what's happened yet?"

"Brilliant thinking, David," Don praised, clapping Sinclair on the shoulder. Don's cell phone found its place by his ear a millisecond after he'd pressed the speed-dial for his childhood home. "Hi Dad, it's me; is Charlie there?"

Terry knew by the way Don's body slumped that Eppes Senior had answered in the affirmative. She and David both relaxed and David excused himself to mark Charlie's name off the missing-and-presumed-dead list.

"Can I talk to him?" There was a second's pause and then, "Hey, Buddy, where've you been? Turn on the news." Terry knew that Don would be all right now that he knew that Charlie was unhurt, so she squeezed his shoulder, and quietly left to help investigate the bombing.

Later that evening, Don, with Terry in tow, walked through the front door of his old home and was instantly greeted by the smells of… spaghetti sauce, was it? Alan appeared in the kitchen doorway and smiled widely. "Don! And Terry! Well, come in, come in; Charlie's in the solarium, working on another project, and dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Mr. Eppes," Terry said with a smile as Don immediately disappeared in search of his wayward brother.

Don found Charlie scribbling away on his chalkboards and leaned against the doorframe as utter relief flooded him. Charlie had his headphones on and so didn't hear Don at the door, a fact Don was grateful for at the moment.

Something must have alerted Charlie to another presence because he spun around, whipping his headphones off as he turned. "Hey, Don," he greeted.

Don couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face as he moved towards Charlie. "Hey, Buddy. What'cha working on?"

Charlie turned back around and proudly surveyed his work. "I think I can pinpoint where your bomber lives." He pointed to a map with little red flags marking the targets. "See, before today, each target was almost perfectly random, but even they followed a pattern. CalSci is outside of the main zone." True enough, each one of the earlier targets, while seemingly at random, worked in a sort of bizarre spiral fashion, and the CalSci campus was a long way from the target Charlie had calculated and told them would come next.

"CalSci was deliberate," Don realized.

"Yes," Charlie replied bluntly. "Somebody who knows what I'm doing to find him and thinks I'm getting too close."

Don paled as the implications hit him. "That's it, you're not leaving my sight," he pronounced. I can't lose you, Charlie; I just got you back.

Charlie smiled, patiently, indulgently, and it hit Don how much he absolutely detested that look. "I should have it finished by the day after tomorrow at the latest."

"Just don't make yourself sick, hey, pal?"

Charlie agreed with a smile and Don informed him that dinner would be ready soon. Sure enough, "Don! Would you and Charlie come set the table, please?"

Don clapped Charlie amiably on the back as they moved towards the door together. "Coming, Dad!"

After dinner, a few beers, and an old movie, Charlie and Alan checked on Don and Terry and discovered that they'd simply passed out together. Not that Charlie could blame them after all the hours they'd been putting in on that bombing case. Don sat closest to the armrest and leaned back into the corner, while Terry used his chest as her own pillow. They were perfectly content to remain so together, if the possessive placement of her hand on his chest and his similarly placed arm around her back meant anything.

It took some doing, but Alan and Charlie managed to get the agents' legs fully on the couch and helped arrange them so Don wouldn't have a major crick in his back when he woke up without waking them and Alan covered them with a blanket. He and Charlie shut the house down and silently retreated upstairs to their own bedrooms.

Don woke up with the strangest weight on his chest. He looked down to investigate and discovered his sanity wrapped up in a tiny blonde package. He pressed a kiss into her hair and, when she stirred, soothed her by gently rubbing a hand up and down her back combined with a quiet shushing noise. Terry quieted and sleepily flexed her fingers around his lower ribcage; the sensation had him suppressing a violent shiver. Don tightened his hold on her and quickly slid back into sleep with the feeling of finally being at peace.

He next woke with the fabulous scent of coffee and cooking bacon in his nostrils. The sensation of feeling his muscles tense must have wakened Terry as well because she stretched languidly. Don nearly whimpered as pure lust shot through him when she pressed every inch of her admittedly delicious body against every inch of his own. She moaned sleepily and lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Good morning," she murmured, eyes smiling at him.

"Morning," he responded, feeling his lips lift to smile back at her. He loved it when she was like this: when she simply wasn't awake enough to let her walls slam up between them; when she showed him the Terry he'd met at the Academy. She collapsed back down against him with a soft smile, closing her eyes and moving her hand so her whole arm wrapped around his ribs.

His father appeared in the kitchen doorway with a mug of coffee in each hand. "Ah, you're awake. There's coffee here, and breakfast's on the table.

"What time is it?" Don asked.

"A little after six. You still have time to shower and take Terry home so she can change."

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome."

Terry eventually rose and waited for Don to stand and stretch out his back before they moved into the kitchen where there were full plates waiting for them.

For the rest of the day Don wore a sickeningly happy smile, one that confused every last one of his coworkers, and alternately infuriated and delighted Terry. Granted, the fact that his grin got wider every time he looked at her might have had something to do with her constantly wavering emotions

Granted, Don and Terry had independently realized something that morning: their relationship had changed.

And it was that epiphany, and only that, that kept Terry from smacking him.

FIN.