Chapter 9

"What the hell was that? Who fired?" Megan's voice was a strained bark, crackling with fury.

There was a pause while they looked at each other, but all guns seemed to be holstered, or out of reach.

David hesitated. "I think it was Don," he whispered at last, only half believing it. But he was moving even as he said it, snatching a gun, any gun, from the side of the road and skirting around the blockade, vaulting the concrete barrier.

"Well, where the hell is Twilliger?" Megan's voice rose, frustrated at not being able to see for herself.

David didn't answer right away. He was running toward the car tilted on its side. The thought that Don would ream him out good for this bone-headed move if he was in any shape to notice it passed through his mind, but he figured an informal reprimand would be worth it. Or even a formal one. As he rounded the car, he noticed that Wainwright had already run past it on the other side and was further down the road, bending over something slumped on the blacktop.

"I've got him." Wainwright's voice carried over the earpiece as he turned the huddled figure over. A grim smile colored his voice. "So, Mr. Twilliger - we meet face to face at last."

"What happened? Is he alive?"

David thought about taking a second to answer Megan, but he stopped dead at the sight before him, his heart squeezing tight in his chest. Flames were licking at a crumpled piece of paper on the ground, shooting hungrily upward. They flickered delicately, gathering strength, wafting perilously close to the puddle of gasoline drenching the road. Breathing a curse, he clawed at his vest, shook free of it and dropped it gently over the small fire, moving carefully to keep it contained and pressing down to smother it. He felt the heat push against his hands, wrinkled his nose at the smell of singed Kevlar.

"Hey!" he didn't look up at the voice in his ear, the ear without the earpiece this time, until he felt a hand shake his shoulder. "Hey! I've got that!" He glanced up into Jeffries' taut face. "You see to him." He jerked his head toward the car, and David realized that he'd actually been avoiding looking there. "Go on." Jeffries gave him an encouraging nod, taking the vest out of his hands and examining underneath, then using his own jacket to begin mopping up the gasoline.

David hesitated, then nodded. Better if a friend did this. Not better for the friend, maybe, but better for Don. He didn't bother to rise from his crouch, but tipped forward onto his knees and crawled the short distance to the sprawled figure, cast deep in shadow by the vehicle's roof, head turned away from him. He rested one hand reassuringly on the vested shoulder and squeezed, nearly jumped in surprise when there was an answering groan and the arm rose weakly, as if to knock him away.

"Don?" David cleared his throat to cover the catch in his voice. "Hey, it's me - it's David, don't fight me, okay?"

The raised hand hovered uncertainly, then dropped back to the pavement. There was a pause, and David tried to move in closer.

"…David?"

It was faint and David had to duck his head to hear, but he was grinning as his breath rushed out of him in a whoosh of relief. "Yeah. That's right - it's me. Just take it easy, okay?"

Don turned his head in David's direction. His lashes flickered, but his eyes didn't open. " - get 'em?"

David glanced over to where Wainwright was forcing Twilliger to his feet, hands already cuffed behind his back. "Yup." He noticed the gun resting on Don's chest and carefully lifted it away, slipping the safety back on and curling his hand around the barrel. Warm. He smiled ruefully. "You know, someday you're going to have to tell me how you made that shot."

Don's forehead wrinkled, then a ghost of his customary grin spread across his face. "…hit him?"

David glanced at Wainwright and Twilliger again, eyeing the sleeve plastered wetly against Twilliger's arm. "Yup."

"Damn." Don managed a thready chuckle, his grin deepening. "Think I… had…m'eyes closed…"

David gave a shout of laughter, and Don joined in, ending in a rasping cough that turned into a moan.

"…man…" he breathed.

David tightened his grip on Don's shoulder. "Okay. No more of that for you. Megan - " he aimed his voice at the mike this time, "You got those EMTs?"

"On their way. How's Don?"

David glanced down at Don, hesitated. "Well, he could use those EMTs."

"Right. I'm on my way too."

"Right." David frowned at Don. His eyes were still closed, but they looked different now. More like…he shook the shoulder under his hand. "Hey. Don. Stay awake, okay?"

Don groaned softly and stirred. "…why…?"

David shrugged, leaning in to get a closer look at him. "I don't know - they tell you to say that. Maybe just to annoy the hell out of the accident victim?"

Don snorted softly. "…works."

"Good. Wouldn't want to think I wasn't holding up my end." David had found the rusty puddle around Don's leg, but he couldn't find the wound. Must be under the car…can't do anything to stop the bleeding, then. He sat back on his haunches, trying to think back to his first aid training. It had never been his best class. "Say, Jeffries - grab my jacket for me?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeffries rise and double back to their vehicle. He turned his attention back to Don. "So…" He didn't see any other bleeding, except for some scrapes. "Too bad about those Lakers, huh?" Don's breathing had taken on a hollow sound that was making him tense.

Don shifted his head, his arm curling protectively over his abdomen. "…supposed to…keep me awake…?"

David laughed. "Yeah. Sorry." He looked up to see Jeffries standing over him, offering the FBI jacket, and nodded his thanks. He rolled the jacket into a ball and carefully lifted Don's head. Don let out a surprised hiss of pain, and David winced apologetically as he tucked the jacket under and gently lowered the head again. "Sorry. Bad spot there?"

Don swallowed and half-lifted one hand in a dismissive gesture, let it drop, but his breathing was harsher.
David moved a hand to the center of his chest and patted lightly. "Sorry. Just trying to make you comfortable." He could see the paramedic truck now and in the distraction, almost missed Don's strangled laugh. He smiled slightly in return. "I meant MORE comfortable, okay? It's relative." He saw that Jeffries was tearing into a large paper sack under his arm and raised his brows. "What the heck is that?"

Jeffries didn't look up from his task. "Kitty litter," he said succinctly.

David stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know - " Jeffries was pouring the contents of the bag onto the blacktop. "Figure those guys are going to need to use some kind of tools to get him loose. Got to get rid of the gasoline first. So - " he gestured to the heaps of shavings. "Fresh scent, too," he added solemnly.

David shook his head. "You always drive around with a trunk full of kitty litter?"

Jeffries shrugged. "Not always. But PetWorld was having a sale - great price with the coupon. Course, now I have to find another coupon."

David laughed. "You can have my paper - I promise. You know, you LAPD guys aren't all so dumb."

"Gosh, coming from a Fibbie that means so much," Jeffries shot back, his smile softening the words. He hesitated, the smile falling away, and jerked his head in Don's direction, mouthing, How's he?

David made a face and gave a slight shrug, just as a paramedic put down his kit on Don's other side and dropped down next to it.

"What we got?"

David shook his head. "Not sure. He's bleeding over there - " he pointed to one of Don's legs " - and I hurt him when I moved his head to put it on the jacket. Otherwise, I don't know. Think he's hurt inside, though."

The paramedic looked up at his partner, who was examining the spot where Don's legs met the car. "You want to call for help with that while I get his vitals? Looks really dehydrated." Then to David, "What's his name?"

"Agent Eppes. Don, I mean - Don Eppes."

"Okay, Agent Eppes - " the paramedic was busy unraveling a blood pressure gauge. "Okay if I call you Don?"

Don opened his eyes to slits for a moment, then let them drop shut again. The paramedic lifted his brows in David's direction.

David smiled slightly. "Think he's trying to tell you that he doesn't give a damn what you call him, as long as you get the car off him."

The paramedic smiled. "Fair enough. Let me just get a couple of numbers here and then I think we can make you feel a lot better. Tim? How's that look to you?"

"Gonna take a little bit to get him free. Can't tell if he's caught on anything, either. How's he doing?"

The other paramedic shook his head as he read the blood pressure gauge. "Fast would be better. Wanna get him on a line as soon as possible."

"Right. I've got a crew coming. Read me the stats - I'll call it in."

"David?"

David pulled his gaze away from Don to see Megan looming over him. She crouched down next to him, careful to keep out of the paramedics' way. "How is he?"

David shook his head. "Can't tell. They're - doing stuff. Gotta cut him free, I think, or lift the car, or something."

Megan winced. "God." She reached out a tentative hand in Don's direction, then pulled it back and ran it through her hair instead. "I should tell the Eppes. You got things here?"

David nodded without looking up.

Megan nodded back, pushing to her feet. "Tell Don - " she had no idea what she wanted to tell Don. "That I'll see him later."

David nodded again, then shot out a protective hand as Don suddenly came to life, recoiling with a cry.

He looked questioningly at the paramedic, but the paramedic was focused on Don. "So that's where it hurts, huh?" He turned to his partner. "Acute abdomen - really rigid. Okay, Don, I just need to palpate the other side."

Don's eyes were tightly closed again, but he squeezed them open at that. The paramedic glanced at David. "What's he trying to say this time?"

David looked thoughtful. "I think he's trying to say that if you touch him there again, he'll kill you. And that he's FBI and knows how to do it."

The paramedic gave him a wry look. "You sure get a lot out of a glance."

"He's my boss." David pursed his lips, tightening his grip on Don's shoulder. "You learn to read between the lines."

TBC