It is 12:00 AM. Three hours have passed since he went missing. Three hours. They say the first forty eight hours are safe for him, in truth, I would tell that to any family who was missing someone.

But this isn't any family.

And he isn't someone.

At 9:00 PM he left to go pick up our dinner, the place was backed up; they wouldn't be able to deliver. I offered to go, he was after all, knee deep in some algorithm of some sort, not that I understood it. But he said he would drive, it was his turn, and he could wait to finish.

At 9:30 I got a call. The place was robbed…someone had kidnapped him. I remember t, because I was annoyed that he hadn't brought dinner home yet.

"Don. It's David," the voice had said on the other line, "I have some bad news. A Chinese place was robbed…one of the guys knew who Charlie was. They took him, I got a call from a payphone ten minutes ago, they want you Don….Charlie says not to come. He wants you to stay at home…and that's what you're going to do."

I argued, of course, but David said I wasn't going to be any help, he told me that the longer I talked with him the less time Charlie had.

That shut me up pretty quickly.

Oh God…I don't care about whose turn it was…they wanted me…it should be me who is missing.

It is 12:01…amazing how many thoughts you can have in a minute. Charlie would be able to tell me exactly how many an individual person was capable of having…I think he would anyways. He would at least come up with a formula…he always does.

I remember once, when we were in High School, I had a friend…Thomas Mongan. He was an idiot, but he was cool. We were hanging out after school and Charlie was tagging along like he always did, and Tommy said "Watch me jump the stream!"

I had faith in Tommy, in those days he was the cool kid, I believed anything he said.

And there was my twelve year old brother, telling me exactly why he couldn't do it.

I remember telling him to shut up before Tommy heard him, but he never listened. Tommy spun around and hit Charlie so hard I was sure his jaw was broken.

I would never admit it, but I was so angry I could have killed Tommy Mongan. No one, absolutely no one, hits my little brother. (In those days, the rest of the sentence would have included 'except me'.)

I pulled him off Charlie and socked him; I think I broke his nose. I don't really remember. Charlie had a bloody nose, one of the bloodiest I'd seen at that point, and if Tommy hadn't gone off two minutes earlier I would have pushed him into that river, dangerous undertone and all.

I tried to help Charlie up, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. I remember going to his room later that night, first he apologized for wrecking my friendship with Tommy and then he threw the math he had been working on out the window.

When mom and dad found out, I told them I broke it.

It's ironic really, that Charlie was kidnapped today. I am not even on a case today. I don't get it; sure, I expected I'd be threatened. But I never expected it to be Charlie, and I definitely didn't expect it while he was going to pick up Chinese food.

I wish getting Charlie out of trouble this time was as easy as saying I broke the window.

It's odd, sitting here in this room, thinking of all the times I saved Charlie. Especially while I sit here and wait to find out if he is even alive.

Dad's finally fallen asleep in the chair, three hours of sitting with me does that to people, especially a sullen, and worried me. Charlie is usually telling him to go to sleep, but tonight he isn't.

I got the call at 9:30. It is 12:08.

My phone sits on the edge of the table, hanging precariously off the edge. Charlie would say something about it having too much potential energy, his way of telling me to move it or it would fall.

The ring startles me out of my thoughts and I pick it up.

"Eppes," I bark, I can't help it. I'm tired, hungry, and very, very worried.

"Don? It's David, Charlie's safe. We found him."

I sink back to the couch in relief.