A/N: I know this is a little late, but I'm having the most terrible writer's block on this story. The plot bunny for this story just visits every month or two. I'm really sorry about the long waits I've been forcing upon you guys. I think once I finish up this and my other stories (on another fandom) I will stick to posting one story at a time. Less stress on my part and most likely less waiting on yours. Another reason for this particular long wait is there was a death in my family recently. I had to go to NFLD for the funeral and such. I wasn't going to post this for awhile, but I will now. Don't expect a quick update, I've been having trouble writing lately and that's not like me. There isn't the same flow, like before it was like some other force gave me the story, but thats gone for the moment and I don't want to torture you with bad chapters. I think you'd rather wait then see his story go down the drain. Sorry that I'm making you guys wait.

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Chapter Three: Long Hidden Guilt

Silence and darkness surrounded Charlie's world. He couldn't see a thing due to the blindfold now over his eyes. He was utterly alone with his thoughts – thoughts that mercilessly reminded him of the condition each of the victims had been in when they were returned. It was an easily predictable pattern: each kidnapping was more brutal than the last. Would this be the one with a fatality?

He knew his abductors were ruthless. They had already killed one of their own. Charlie shivered from where he was lying on the cold floor.

A small creak caught his attention, "Professor Charles Eppes, how are you liking your accommodations?" The man he now knew as Dry Ice asked him mockingly. "Are they comfortable enough?"

"No, but I don't have much of a choice do I?" Charlie replied in a resigned voice. He twisted his wrists in the ropes slightly to emphasize his point.

He sensed a presence right beside him. Close – as if the person was kneeling down – and then felt tugging at the ropes binding his hands. Once freed, he reached for the blindfold, but a sharp smack to the face deterred him. He let his head sink back down to the floor. His feet were still tied and would be until he had the use of his sight.

"That stays on until I leave, understand?" Dry Ice's voice was commanding.

"Yeah..." Charlie's voice trailed off. He had not expected to be untied. However the reason was quickly revealed to him as he felt another, heavier binding encircle his ankle. He reached to stop Dry Ice but only received another blow to the face. Whatever it was clinked and he deduced it was probably some sort of chain. The same material went around his thighs, just above his knees, further hampering his ability to move.

"Now, someone will be in here shortly with some food for you. Don't misbehave or we'll have to punish you," the threat was obvious, but the way he said it was even more chilling.

Charlie nodded slightly and heard Dry Ice's footsteps as he left the room. As soon as he was gone, his hands ripped off the blindfold. The bindings on his legs were chains and he tried to get them off but they had been secured tightly.

His mind went into action as he tried to calculate breaking the chain by bending it at a certain angle, but the tightness of it didn't give him any room to move the chain to the necessary degree. Struggling to get himself into a comfortable position, he put his back against the wall and his legs out in front of him. It was the most comfortable arrangement he was able to get his body into, considering the restraints and the gash on his shoulder which still throbbed occasionally.

Closing his eyes, he sighed loudly. This was not how he had planned to spend his night. He had not planned on being kidnapped, being held in a small room with an uncomfortable concrete floor, or being at the mercy of five ruthless men. Charlie looked at his watch, Only 11 days 12 hours 56 minutes and twelve seconds left until... He shook his head rapidly, No! Dad will pay the ransom or Don will find me. He forced himself to think positively, his brother would save him. He knew, no matter how bad the situation seemed, Don would come through for him. Charlie trusted his brother on that.

The door creaked open again and Charlie's head whipped over to face whoever had entered the room. Although Dry Ice had told him someone was coming in and that it was too soon for anyone to even have an idea where he was, he still held out hope that it might be Don.

His hopes were crushed. It was the orange-haired man with a sandwich and a bottle of water in his hands – Charlie's supper. The man knelt in front of him with a mean smile showing through his mask. "Hungry Charlie?"

Charlie nodded as his stomach grumbled slightly, causing the man to laugh.

"I don't think you deserve it. Where were you when dear old mum was in the hospital?" He asked nastily.

Tear automatically sprung into Charlie's eyes, but they didn't fall. "How – how did you…?" he stuttered for a moment. Suddenly it all made sense. That was why this man seemed so familiar. He had been the doctor who'd treated his mother when she was ill. Charlie had only seen him a couple of times, but he knew now that they were one and the same. That also explained why all of the victims had a family member die in the not-so-distant past.

"I'm not going to tell you that." He either didn't see the look of realization in the younger man's eyes or he was just too dumb to notice it. "And you can call me Blaze. You won't see me for awhile – I have some unfinished business to attend to," he commented as he dropped the water bottle on the floor along with the sandwich before leaving. He flashed Charlie one last insolent smirk before slamming the door.

The professor picked up the sandwich, carefully peeled off the plastic wrap and took a small bite. He chewed for a moment and swallowed thickly. Blaze's words hung in the air like thick smog. Charlie rewrapped the remainder of the sandwich clumsily and threw it down. Lying down on the floor, he pressed his face into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as sobs racked his body. Where had he been? In his own little world, his precious bubble, because he was too selfish to face the truth and help his mother deal with the disease that had ultimately taken her life. The guilt he had harbored for so long finally overcame him in his dire situation and Charlie let himself cry.

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Don's arrival gave Amita substantial relief, maybe now they could save this man's life – and Charlie's. The fact the paramedics had come didn't hurt the situation either.

Silently Don led her away from the bloody scene and told her to stay in his vehicle. Amita stared at him through the window and watched forlornly as he spoke to the EMT's.

"Sir, we have to get this man to the hospital immediately," one of the paramedics tried to explain, but Don cut her off. "An innocent man is missing and he is partly responsible!" His anger was barely controllable.

"Listen, you can question him at the hospital after he's stable. He's no use to you dead," The woman explained soothingly and offered, "Why don't you follow in your car?"

"Fine," Don seethed inwardly as he stalked back to his car where Amita waited. He noticed the tears that had escaped her eyes and he tried to reassure her as well as himself. "Don't worry, we'll get him back," he told her softly.

She looked at him with an insurmountable amount of grief in her eyes and he knew exactly how she felt. They were both in the same boat. Both were only days away from losing someone they loved in a brutal and painful fashion.

"I can't help but worry. I can't help but run every possible situation through my mind and it's always the worst-case scenario. I don't know if I can take this," she confessed as she swiped at her tears with her sleeve.

"You have to, for Charlie. How can we expect him to be strong if we can't do the same?" Don asked her seriously. Amita nodded and stared out the window aimlessly as the streets of L.A. flashed by.

Minutes passed like hours before the hospital came into view and they made their way into the waiting room. Amita sat silently in an uncomfortable chair while Don used his badge to get into the room where the man was being prepped for surgery.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" He asked, pushing the urge to demand his brother's whereabouts away.

"Drake Meggers. You're the brother...right?" The man asked with difficulty.

"Yes, do you know where he is?" Don pressed with a hint of anger in his voice. Before Drake had a chance to answer an orange haired doctor came in and injected something into his IV quickly before rushing out.

"Blaze! That was Blaze, he has..." but the words were cut off as his body started to convulse violently and his breathing became frenetic.

Don stabbed at the call button and screamed for a nurse as the man died in front of him, "Charlie! He has Charlie?"

"Sorry..." Drake hissed as his teeth clenched together and his breathing stopped, the eerie whine of the heart monitor lingering in Don's ears. He offered no resistance as he was directed out of the room.

"Don?" Amita stood.

"He's dead," he replied in a monotone.

"No!" She slumped back into the chair as Don realized he'd said the wrong thing. "Not Charlie… the comedian," he clarified. "And we have another suspect. I just have to ask around to get his name."

She nodded quietly and Don put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light comforting squeeze. "I'll only be a minute," he said as he walked back over to the receptionist.

Picking up a phone left out for family members of patients, Amita called Larry.

"Hello?"

"It's Amita, Larry. I have… Charlie's been kidnapped," she blurted out.

"What? Are you okay?" He questioned immediately.

"I'm fine – I'm with Don. I witnessed a shooting directly linked to the kidnapping," she replied quietly.

"What about Charles? Do they know if he's alright?" Larry asked, concerned for his friend.

"I don't know. I only found out about the kidnapping after I witnessed the shooting," Amita explained as Don came back. Holding the phone away for a moment she whispered, "It's Larry. Do you know if Charlie's alright?"

"He's fine for the moment," Don told her in a voice that clearly expressed there had been a threat made.

She grimaced and turned back to the phone, "I just asked Don. He's fine. Well… as fine as can be expected."

"Will you call me if they find anything?" Larry asked in a quiet voice.

"Of course. Bye, Larry." She terminated the call and looked up at her missing friend's brother. "Get a name?"

"Dr. François LeBlanc," Don nodded. "He treated my mother. Maybe that's part of how they pick their victims," the FBI agent pondered aloud. "I should get home – see how my dad's doing with the money."

"Stop at the bank, " Amita told him, rising to her feet. "I'll help." She trailed him out of the hospital.

"You have to be careful, you're a witness," he told her seriously. "They could come after you."

"That's the last thing on my mind right now and you're stopping at the bank," she answered him in a tone equal to his own.

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Yeah yeah yeah, this chap was shorter than the last, but I did finally update, didn't I? Please review! Won't be a new chapter for awhile, I have no idea how I was able to rack this one out of my brain. I don't much like this chapter either, but it's better than it was, thanks again to my awesome beta Enigste1! The hearing in my right ear if muffled and weird, ahhh it's bugging the crap out of me, so is the virus on my computer. Just another day in the life of the authoress Nicole also known as Queen of Cliffies.

With love to all my loyal readers

BYES!

Hehe, well PRESS THE PURPLE BUTTON OR PAY THE CONCEQUENCES! (gee did I spell that right? Don't matter, you get the picture.)