Don's POV

Charlie started, not physically, but I could see it on his face. I had caught him off guard. There was more to this story.

"Wh-what about him?" Charlie stuttered. I could see him fight for control, but he was failing.

I held up the slip of paper and put it in his hand. He looked down at it.

"Did he try to contact you, or succeed in contacting you?" I asked.

"No." An obvious lie.

"Charlie. What's going on? Why was his name written on that piece of paper, that same piece of paper you shredded into so many pieces?"

"No, no reason." His voice had strengthened, but not much.

"Charlie."

He looked at me, his eyes widened and fearful. Fear was written on his face.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice stern.

"I...I was writing a message to him. Larry said it'd be good for me, therapy. I was supposed to tell him how I felt about what he did. I was to write down my feelings about what had happened in a letter addressed to him, only I wasn't supposed to actually mail it. It was therapy."

The story seemed too perfect.

"Why'd you rip it then?"

"I was mad about it, so I tore it up."

Charlie sat at one of his desks. He rarely used it because he was usually standing at one of the boards.

"What did he do to you?" I asked quietly.

Charlie wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Charlie. Talk to me. What did he do?"

His eyes found a spot on the wall and he stared at it.

"Charlie. Answer me!" I demanded, standing up.

Charlie did look at me then.

"I...I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because...I don't know why. I just can't, all right?"

"Come on, Charlie. Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything. It's my job to help you. Not just as an FBI agent, but as your brother. Talk to me."

"No!" Charlie barked.

I was surprised by his anger, but responded in anger also.

I reached out and grabbed him by the wrists, shaking him.

"Damn it, Charlie! What do I have to do to gain your trust? Huh? You're going to have to tell me what's going on! I need to know, Charlie! I have a right to know! Just tell me!" I screamed in his face.

Charlie looked pale, scared to death. I felt guilty for scaring him, but pushed it away, knowing I had to stay firm.

"Don! Let go of your brother!" Dad yelled at me from behind, his tone angry.

I let go, but continued to glare at Charlie. He ducked underneath my arms and fled the room.

After watching Charlie leave, Dad turned back to me.

"I come in here to check on you two and this is what I find? What's the matter with you, Don? What brought that on?" Dad demanded. His voice still seemed angry, but there was a gentleness there, too, telling me he wasn't too mad.

I sighed and told what I knew. I didn't want to worry him, but I knew Charlie wouldn't breathe a word to him about it.

Besides, maybe Dad needed to be cautious.

Charlie's POV

I ran out of the garage, tears blinding my vision. I had come too close to telling him everything. If Dad hadn't shown up, I know I would have. I felt a shudder pass through me at the thought.

I had just turned the corner of the house, on my way to my bike, when I was grabbed from behind.

A hand clamped over my mouth and I felt a sense that I had lived this moment already. The same fear crept inside me and I began to shake.

I was pulled across the street quickly. I didn't resist, but I prayed that Don or Dad would come out then and see me missing or even being dragged away.

I was thrown into a dark room. I coughed and breathed heavily. I turned my eyes to who grabbed me. I could dimly see his face through the moonlight coming in from the window. I recognized him as Waits' henchman Jake.

"What did you tell him?" He asked, his tone low and gravelly.

"N-nothing," I stammered.

Jake kicked me hard in the ribs. I couldn't see how his aim was so good in the dark. I cried out in pain.

"What did you tell him?" He shouted, his voice angry.

"Nothing! I swear!"

"You liar!" He grabbed me by the front of the shirt and slammed me against the wall.

I was momentarily stunned by the impact of my back hitting the wall. Stars appeared before my eyes so that I couldn't see.

In my moment of weakness, Jake had tied my hands together in a tight grip. The ropes burned against my wrists, so tight I couldn't move them.

"Tell me what you told him. Now!"

I flinched at his scream, so angry it frightened me into silence.

"You're not going to talk, huh?"

He moved behind me. I hated not being able to see him.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, and was answered by a sharp pain in my back as he slid a knife down the length of my spine.

I screamed in pain and Jake put his hand over my mouth to drown out the sound.

"Tell me!"

"I didn't tell him anything! I swear to God I didn't say anything!" I cried.

Another line was started and I began to sob with the pain.

"I didn't say anything! I promise! I wouldn't tell him anything! I have nothing to tell him!"

When the line ended, I felt dizzy with pain.

"You going to tell me?"

"I already told you! I told him nothing!" I sobbed.

"That better be the truth, or next time it'll be your brother in here and he'll get a lot worse than that."

He cut loose the ropes and I rubbed my wrists. They were slightly red from the ropes, but I hoped it would go away soon.

"I suggest you get back to your house before the bleeding shows through. I'd hate for you to have to explain what happened."

I gulped. Fear was all I could think of right now. It wasn't the fear of Jake or even Carl. It was fear that Dad and Don would find out and pay for my troubles.

"Get out of here!" Jake screamed and I ran as fast as I could across the street. I could see the lights still on in the garage and I hoped Dad and Don were still in there.

Once safely inside my room, I took off my ripped shirt. I had to bite back a scream as I peeled the bloody shirt from my body. I decided I'd better take a shower. I locked the door to my room. I turned to the dresser drawer, across from my bed, and took out a change of clothes.

When I had gathered the clothes, I went to my bathroom, locking it behind me also.

The hot water burned the cuts and I was fighting pain once more. It felt so bad that I began to feel dizzy again. Not wanting to risk passing out, I knelt down on the bathtub and let the water hit my arched back. I watched the water turn red and I felt my stomach churn. I had never had a strong stomach when it came to blood. Don had to see it all the time.

When I felt I was clean enough, I turned off the water. I pulled the curtain on the bathtub back and stepped out of the shower, pulling on my clothes. I had chosen a button-down shirt, though I would just be going to bed. It would be easier than trying to pull on another plain t-shirt.

I looked at the cuts in the mirror. They weren't as deep as I expected. They wouldn't need stitches, for which I was thankful. I didn't want to have to explain what happened, not to anyone.

I fought with a strip of gauze as I tried to get it on my back. After fifteen minutes, I was able to get the majority wrapped. I had reopened the cuts with all the movement I made.

When I was able to put my shirt on, I stepped out of the bathroom, placing my dirty laundry in the hamper, except for the bloody t-shirt. I slipped it into one of my bags for school. I'd dispose of it somehow when I got away from the house.

I noticed a piece of paper under the door. I moved over to it, fearing it was from Jake or Carl.

I picked it up with a gasp of pain from bending over. I looked at the message, written plainly in Don's handwriting.

This isn't over.

Don's POV

I had trouble sleeping that night, knowing I had scared Charlie. I would have stayed at home, as was my original plan, but I couldn't face Charlie and he obviously didn't want to face me. He had locked the door to his room, though I could hear the shower running. I wrote the note quickly and slipped it under his door. I'd go see him in the morning.

After the restless night, I got up at drank a cup of coffee, not bothering to make myself breakfast. I rarely ate breakfast anymore, though I knew I should. Dad would give me a long lecture if he knew I didn't.

Before I decided where to go, I called Charlie's house, hoping Dad would answer.

"Hello?" Dad said. I was glad it was him.

"Hey, Pop. It's me. Is Charlie there?"

"No. He went to the CalSci office again to work on papers. He goes back to work tomorrow, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Dad."

"You coming over for supper?"

"We'll see. I'll talk to you later. I got to go."

"Bye."

I drove straight to CalSci after I drank my coffee and got ready for work. My conscience wouldn't let me leave this alone for long.

I went to his office and found him at one of the chalkboards, as usual.

I knocked on the door frame and he turned.

"Don. What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice calm, defeated.

"I came to apologize. Look, Charlie, I never meant to scare you like that. My temper just got in the way again. I just was so frustrated because I knew you weren't telling me something and refused to tell me. You were stubborn with not telling me and I was stubborn with finding out what that was."

He smiled.

"I shouldn't have acted out like that. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, Don."

I stepped closer and gave him a small hug. I heard a sharp intake of breath, one out of pain. I let go immediately.

"I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Charlie's face was pale. He reached out and grabbed the edge of his desk.

"I'm fine." He turned back to the chalkboard, writing once more.

It was then that I noticed a dark red spot on the back of his shirt.

"Charlie? What happened to your back? You're bleeding."

I saw him jump slightly, out of fear. Was this part of what he wasn't telling me?

"Charlie?"

He turned to me, a haunted look on his face.

"Leave it alone, Don. It's nothing."

"Charlie, what happened?"

"Nothing. Just go away. Please. I don't want you to get hurt."

I felt fear grip at my heart. What was he talking about?

"Charlie-"

"Just go!"

I stood there in shock, and then turned and left. I knew I'd have to get to the bottom of this, but now was not the time.