Chapter 5

His stomach rumbled, long and low like a summer thunderstorm, and then gave way to a gnawing burning that was familiar, even though, when it woke Charlie up, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt it. He started to move his arm to cradle his stomach and felt sharp pain near the shoulder, so he stopped. He decided instead to open his eyes, but that didn't seem to be working either. They felt swollen, glued shut. He wondered vaguely if he was having an allergy attack when it occurred to him that there was an axe buried in the middle of his face.

Once identified, the pain in the area that used to house his nose intensified. His mouth had already fallen open so that he could breathe, but now he opened it further, and purposely moved his arm again. This accomplished two things. First, he finally managed to cradle his stomach. He was unsure how that would help, exactly, but he still wanted to do it. More importantly, the forced movement seemed to tear something on his upper arm. He could feel liquid begin to roll down his arm, and the agonizing moment of the tear caused his eyes to open.

Not exactly wide — he felt like he was ripping them open, but if he were to go by what he could see, his eyes were only open slits. He seemed to be on a floor, leaning against a wall, and there were a pair of knees and a shotgun in front of him.

"Idiot," he heard, and was ridiculously glad to find that at least his ears seemed to be working. "You started it up again."

The knees and the shotgun seemed to fade away a little and Charlie's stomach growled and burned again. "Great," he thought. "Best case scenario, I've managed to reactivate my ulcer, somehow. Worst case scenario, the guy with the shotgun is going to blow my stomach into Oregon anyway."

As soon as he envisioned the shotgun discharging, Charlie saw Don fly backwards off the roof and squeezed shut his slits-for-eyes against the onslaught of memories.

He had a new worst case scenario.

Worst case, Don had not been wearing his vest when that shotgun went off on the roof. Worst case, it didn't really matter, and his brains were spread all over the sidewalk in front of the math & sciences building. Worst case, he would never see his brother again — and it was his own fault. He had called Don to campus, even telling him that he would be on the roof. He should have known that Don would come up there to find him.

Shotgun Sam interrupted Charlie's thoughts with a poke at his aching arm. "You awake or not?"

Charlie didn't even feel the increased pain. He just kept seeing the same scene, over and over — Don flying backwards off the roof. Without warning, bile rose within him and he didn't even try to suppress it, just let it go and vomited all over the knees in front of him.

"Shit!" Whoever owned the knees didn't take it too well, and Charlie felt the butt of the shotgun slam into the place where he used to have a nose…and then, thankfully, he again faded away and didn't feel anything at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Once Cecile arrived and Alan was not alone, Megan knew that she and the other agents should return to Cal Sci — to the newest crime scene. Don had said that Charlie 'had something'. Now Don had been shot and Charlie was missing. That couldn't be a coincidence — it had to be related to the case. She was anxious to get to work finding out how, finding Charlie — but she was reluctant to leave the hospital. Finally she excused herself and took the elevator down to the lobby, where she could use her cell phone.

She checked her voice mail and was startled to hear one from Director Merrick. "I understand the concern of your team for Agent Eppes, Agent Reeves, but the three of you are still needed here. Please return as soon as you can. Report to Agent Michaelson. He and his team have been assigned to Don's case, and will be serving as back-up for your team on the case you've been working. Details are sketchy, but since Dr. Eppes is involved, we have to assume the two…situations are related. We have an agent down now, and our resources will reflect that."

Megan exited voice mail and nodded to herself. Bert Michaelson. He was good. She had worked with him before, when Don had taken some vacation time to be with Charlie a few months ago, after his emergency surgery. She scrolled through her address book for Michaelson's number, and considered Charlie's ulcer for the first time. Being kidnapped was probably considered the kind of stress he should avoid.

Megan spoke briefly with Michaelson, then went back to the fourth floor to collect David and Colby. She entered the waiting area and smiled at Mr. Eppes. "Alan, I wish we could stay…"

He looked startled for a moment, then sat up a little straighter. "No, no, I understand. You need to find out who did this, where Charlie is. You all need to get back in the field." He took a breath and looked at Cecile. "I'll be fine, here. You should probably get back to work, too."

Cecile smiled tenderly, reached shyly to his lap, where the fingers of one hand had been nervously tapping a staccato beat on his leg for the last half hour, and took his hand in hers. "I'd like to stay, Mr.…Alan. The rest of the floor nurses divided up my rooms for the remainder of my shift…it was almost over, anyway." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Actually, it is over, now. I can stay…if you'd like me to…"

Alan smiled and squeezed her hand. "Thank you, dear. I'd like that very much." He looked back at Megan, and at David and Colby, who had joined her near the door. "Please, it's all right. I understand."

Megan hesitated. "Alan…the CSIs have already turned some information. Everything is always on stat processing when an agent goes down…but this came in really fast, because it was all right in our in-house system."

Every single person in the room frowned, and Alan finally asked. "What is it?"

"The location of Don's position on the roof was easily determined, and his service weapon and a spent shell casing were found nearby. Ballistics have confirmed that he discharged his weapon."

Alan frowned deeper, more confused. "But that's good, right? He might have hit one of them."

Megan took a breath and continued. "The bullet was found about 30 feet away, embedded in the roof. When it was recovered, there was blood on it — enough to run through DNA."

Alan was growing impatient. "So that's even better. You might be able to ID the suspect."

"DNA analysis can't be done yet," Colby interjected, "even with a rush."

Megan shook her head and kept looking at Alan. "He's right. The results are preliminary. Understand, they could change…"

Alan was suddenly terrified and had no idea why. He gripped Cecile's hand tighter and waited for Megan to say whatever it was that was obviously so difficult for her.

She sighed. "Alan…it looks like Don shot Charlie."