A/N: I apologize for taking longer than I expected to post - Valentine's Day really threw me off schedule.

Chapter 2

"Hey, thanks for the clothes," Don called, sliding into a seat in the dining room.

"No problem." Alan entered with a platter of crisp French toast in one hand and a pitcher of syrup in the other. "That shirt looks better on you anyway. I'll get the coffee - " he stopped, catching sight of Don's face. "Wait a minute. Still?"

"Um - " Don cleared his throat, the rich smells wafting from the kitchen making him a little light-headed. "I'll just have coffee."

Alan clicked his tongue disapprovingly, scooting the platter in Charlie's direction. "Here - you eat. Donnie, I'll make you some dry toast and a soft boiled egg."

"Dad - "

"What? It will take two minutes. That's why they call them two minute eggs." He retreated into the kitchen.

"You don't have to fix two breakfasts," Don protested to his back.

Charlie watched him leave with interest, then turned his gaze on Don. "What's going on?"

Don rubbed a hand over his eyes, then waved it dismissively. "Nothing. I had some bad Chinese for lunch yesterday."

Alan returned with a mug in each hand. "Your egg is on. You sure that's all it is? Maybe you should have it checked out. An ulcer, for example, would not surprise me."

Don sighed through his nose. "I don't think my ulcer would make Colby Granger toss his lunch," he pointed out patiently.

Charlie smothered a grin, forking a couple of bites of French toast. "Granger tossed his lunch?"

Don gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Yeah - wasn't pretty. Now David's got to work in the next cubicle and I don't think the smell is going away any time soon."

Charlie sloshed syrup over his toast, shaking his head. "Man, that's sad. Felons everywhere trying to figure out ways to take out the FBI when all they really had to do was drop off some old takeout and let it do it's work. Just goes to show that E. coli is mightier than the sword."

"Yeah, yeah - laugh it up. Just keep that French toast on your side of the table." Don glanced at his watch.

"That's right. No FBI Agent should have to face French toast without at least his bullet proof vest."

"Lucky for you I'm wearing Dad's shirt or I might take the time to show you what I can do with French toast - with or without a vest."

"I don't know, brother - " Charlie judiciously topped off his milk. "You're looking a little peaked there. Think I might be able to take you today."

"Dream on. And - uh - you were still hoping for that ride, right?"

Charlie shook his head forlornly. "Blackmail. Cheap shot."

"In my field we call that 'cutting a deal'."

Alan placed a plate in front of Don and then a wrapped bundle next to it. "See? What did I tell you? Two minutes. I have a travel mug for you, too. Charlie? Did you want one?"

"Naw, thanks - the campus tea is pretty good. I'll wait til I get there."

Don poked tentatively at the egg, then noticed the wrapped bundle. "What's this?"

"Pot roast sandwich." Alan tightened the lid on a travel mug and set it next to his plate as well. "What? You might feel up to it later. And it will keep you away from any more lethal takeout."

"Dad - " Don broke off a bite of toast, shaking his head.

"By dinner, maybe. Or tomorrow. It'll keep until tomorrow."

"No, I mean - " Don shook his head again. "Thanks." He tried another bite and glanced at his watch again. "You about ready, Charlie?"

Charlie stuffed the remainder of his French toast in his mouth and talked around it. "Two seconds."

Alan rolled his eyes. "You can take a minute to chew. Both of you."

Don grabbed a swallow from the travel mug and lowered it quickly, grimacing, staring at it as if it had betrayed him. "What's in here?" he demanded.

"Herbal tea," responded Alan serenely. "Coffee's the worst thing you can have on a dicey stomach - full of acid."

"Great." Don mumbled without enthusiasm, fishing out his car keys.

Charlie mopped up the last of his syrup and jumped to his feet. "Just let me grab my pack."

"Right." Don surrendered to his father's meaningful glance and swallowed another bite of egg. "Sorry about the dishes - "

"You can make it up to me later. Don't forget your sandwich."

"Yeah - " Don stuffed it absently into his pocket. "Look, I - I'll call you later - okay?"

"Right, right - go. Catch the bad guys."

Don huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Talk to you later." He turned to yell up the staircase. "Charlie - ?"

"Coming!" Charlie scrambled down the stairs with a clatter. "Later, Dad!" He rocketed out the door past Don.

Don followed, pointing his remote at the car to unlock it and lifting a hand in a final farewell to his father.

Charlie was already in the passenger seat and rifling through his pack when Don climbed into the driver's seat and buckled his seat belt. "No wonder you didn't want to move out. He always like this in the morning?"

"Like - oh." Charlie looked up from his pack. "Um - no. Not always. Just every once in a while he seems to get this Susie Homemaker thing going on. Never could figure out what causes it."

"Well, it's something." Don reached up to adjust the mirrors.

"Of course, I'm pretty sure I know what caused it today. You."

"Me." Don stopped with his hand on the mirror to frown at him. "Me? What did I do? Oh, wait - " he caught a glimpse of Charlie's expression and held up a hand to stop any answer. "If this is going to involve more unflattering observations on my physical appearance, forget I asked."

Charlie shrugged, fighting to hide a grin and failing.

Don managed to wedge the travel mug into one of the drink holders and started the engine. "You wouldn't want some herbal tea to take with you, would you?"

Charlie laughed outright. "Oh, no, bro - that's all yours."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

"So. You going to be around tonight?"

Don hesitated. "I don't know, Charlie. That depends… we got a rush on this DNA, you know? If that comes through, we'll be down at the DA's office, asking for warrants…"

"DA's Office." Charlie nodded wisely. "That - uh - wouldn't more specifically happen to be Prosecutor Hodges' office, would it?"

Don glanced at him. "Well - yeah. As a matter of fact. But that's not really - I mean, if anybody deserves the honor of requesting the warrants, it's Wainwright - he's kept this case alive for twenty years. So don't get any ideas in your head."

"Hey, but Wainwright's LAPD, right? So you have to go along to represent the FBI. I'm just saying there's nothing wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure."

"Yeah, well, you should know. And speaking of business and pleasure, how's Amita?"

Charlie frowned at him. "We were talking about your case," he pointed out with great dignity.

Don grinned. "That's what I thought. So let's keep it to the case."

"So what did this guy do?"

Don sighed silently, focusing on the road. "Serial rapist and murderer."

"And then he burns the bodies?"

"Yeah - at the end - he tortures…it's not a pretty story, Charlie. Sure you want it with your breakfast?"

"Twenty years is a long time. I'm just curious. He must be smart, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." Don made a face. "Loves to remind us of it, too. We've had notes making sure we know it's him, ads in the paper - he's a regular one-man PR committee."

"There wasn't anything in any of that to help you catch him?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Don drew a slow breath through his teeth. "But he made a mistake. Eventually, they always make a mistake." He was silent as he negotiated a turn. "Problem is, while we're waiting for the mistake, there's always a lot of - collateral damage."

"You mean lives."

Don nodded, eyes straight ahead. "Yeah."

"How many? Women?"

Don almost managed a grim smile. Leave it to Charlie to bring it down to numbers. "They weren't all women." He caught a glimpse of Charlie's face out of the corner of his eye and added, "Mostly women. But a few men got in his way - kids. He didn't hesitate to take them out too. That was one of the problems, you know? He wasn't always consistent. One house he broke into, he didn't hurt the kids - just locked them all in the bathroom while he…the oldest boy climbed on top of the commode and looked through the transom. Saw - everything - " He took another measured breath, clenching and unclenching his hands on the steering wheel. "You don't want to hear this." Charlie didn't respond and Don gradually realized that he hadn't really answered his question.

"Ten," he said finally. "That we know about." It was almost a relief to see the entrance to CalSci looming just up ahead.

Charlie was sitting very still, but as they eased toward the parking lot he ducked his head. "I guess it's no wonder you're queasy."

"That was the Chinese." Don pulled as close the math building as he could and put the car in park.

"Right." Charlie gathered his pack. "Did you - uh - follow Colby's example?"

Don shook his head. "Not me."

"Yeah," Charlie hit the door handle. "Figures you'd find a way to keep that inside too."

Charlie was fully on the blacktop before Don caught on. "Hey!" he called after him indignantly. "Talk about cheap shots!"

Charlie shrugged apologetically, hesitated with one hand on the door. "Will you call me? When it's over. Let me know?"

Don looked mystified. "It might be late. It might even be tomorrow."

"That's okay. I wanna know."

Don wrinkled his brow. "Yeah - sure - okay."

Charlie nodded. "Thanks. And thanks for the ride. I hope your stomach feels better."

Don half smiled. "I'm hoping this whole day is better."

"Right. Don't forget to call me." Charlie shoved the door closed and Don sat for a minute, watching him make his way to the math building. Charlie turned around and waved, and Don lifted a hand in return. He smiled, for real this time. Well, the day had already started better.

He put the car in drive and pulled back onto the lane that marked the CalSci entrance.

Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe today would be an all around better day.

Just a block away from Bureau parking, his cell began to trill insistently. Without even checking the display, he knew, with cold certainty, that it wouldn't.

TBC