Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you recognize; they belong to Cheryl Heuton and Nicolas Falacci.


Eppes Residence
August 2
2030 Hours PST

It hurt to open his eyes. Don squeezed them shut immediately after opening them and moved to try again, hoping that this time, his vision would clear and his stomach wouldn't be doing flipflops. He took a moment to do a mental check. Langager. At the house. Dad. Sonofabitch, he's got Dad.

Caution be damned. Don opened his eyes again. The world swam, and he felt like he was going to throw up, but he didn't have time to. His father was with Langager and his buddy, and he didn't have time to-

Don made to move, and realize that he couldn't. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, his ankles bound with his belt, and there was something in his mouth making it hard to get a breath. Langager needed a head start. Cell phone. Where the hell is my cell?

Back pocket. Langager's muscle hadn't taken it out. Don stretched his fingers as far as they could go, trying to reach the flip phone in his pocket. As he worked on that, he looked for his Glock, and spotted it underneath a china hutch across the room, probably kicked under there during the struggle.

Footsteps. Don heard footsteps on the porch outside. "Oh my God," a voice said, and Don tried yelling through whatever was in his mouth to get that person's attention. It must have worked, because the next thing Don knew, someone was helping him sit up, lean against the wall. "God. Don, are you all right?" Whoever asked him the question pulled the whatever it was from his mouth and Don swallowed and licked his lips to get some moisture in there so he could speak.

"Charlie?"

His brother. Oh God, Charlie. It was Tuesday, he had a night class at CalSci that must have just gotten over. To come home and find this

"Don, where's your spare handcuff key?" Charlie demanded, one hand on his brother's shoulder, the other dialing a number on his cell. When his brother didn't answer right away, he repeated, more insistently, "Don!"

"SUV," Don managed to choke out. "Center console."

"I got it," another voice said, and Don caught Charlie's girlfriend, Amita Ramanujan, take off outside.

"Colby! Colby, it's Charlie. I'm at the house, Don's here, he's tied up, and Dad-" Charlie paused, covering the mouthpiece on the cellphone. "Don, where's Dad?" he asked in alarm. "Where's Dad?"

"Charlie, calm down, okay. David and I are on the way. Don't touch anything until we get there."

"Can I at least untie my brother?" It would've been a funny question, one that Don would've had a sarcastic response for, any other day. But not tonight.

"What?! Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Is he okay?"

Charlie looked at Don. Don met his eyes, and nodded. "'m fine, Chuck," he promised him. Not really, but Charlie doesn't need to know that.

"He's good. I, ah, we'll be waiting when you get here." Charlie hung up and went back to work on the belt around Don's ankles. "Don, what happened? Where's Dad?" he asked again. Amita was back, and Don leaned forward as best he could so Amita could unlock his cuffs. When his arm came loose, his shoulder flared up again, and he let out an involuntary hiss.

"What? What is it?" Charlie demanded.

"Shoulder," Don replied. "I think it's dislocated." The FBI training took over. "Charlie, is Dad here? Go look around the house. I'm good, I'll stay with Amita. Go look for Dad." Langager was long gone, he was sure, but maybe Langager hadn't made good on his threat, and this was all just to give Don a scare and his lap dog had stashed Alan somewhere else in the house.

Charlie scrambled to his feet, sliding in the broken glass on the floor. Amita sat down next to Don, a glass of water in her hand. She was looking at him worriedly. "I'm okay, Amita, I swear," he assured her, even as his stomach turned flip flops. "Thanks." He used his good hand to take the glass. "Amita, was there any other vehicles out front when you guys pulled up?"

She shook her head. "Not beyond your SUV and Charlie's car, the neighborhood is completely empty."

No surprise there, the street was usually pretty quiet at this time of night, and he was right, Langager and his buddy were long gone. With Dad.

"Don, what happened?" Amita questioned him, but he shook his head. He didn't want to repeat this story more than once tonight, and if David and Colby were coming, he'd rather wait until everybody was there.

Charlie came running back into the room, this time, his sneaker did catch a splinter off the coffee table debris, and he stumbled. "Watch it, Charlie!" Don warned him, surprising himself with the harshness of his tone.

His brother stopped short and almost fell over anyway, but he did slow down. "Dad's not here," he said breathlessly. "Dad's not here. Why isn't Dad here?"

Amita shook her head wordlessly at him. Charlie frowned, confused. "Don, what the hell is going on?" he asked his brother.

"I'll explain, Chuck, but not until David and Colby get here." He banged his head lightly against the wall. "Damn it. He had to have followed me. Had to-"

Charlie's expression darkened. "Who, Don?" he asked. "You haven't spoken to me about anything case-related for at least a couple weeks, and I thought that was a little odd, but figured maybe it was all paperwork and audits." He got up, started pacing. "You've been working a case? Without me?" There was definite hurt and betrayal in his voice. It was probably mostly projecting from the events of that evening, but Don knew that not being in the loop for two weeks had had more of an impact on his little brother than he wanted to admit.

Safe. It's 'cause I was trying to keep you safe, "Charlie-" Don cut in, but Charlie ignored him.

"I knew, statistically, that the odds the crime rates had experienced this much of a drop was highly irrational, but I just thought-" He glared at his brother. "You need to tell me. You need to tell me what's going on right now!"

"Charlie!" Don said sharply. "Calm down." He grimaced as he sat up straighter. His shoulder hurt. It was going to need to be popped back into place, probably. David, or Colby, he thought. One of them can do it when they get he-

Sirens. Followed by two sets of feet running up the walk, and in through the front door. David Sinclair first, followed on his heels by Colby Granger. Colby's eyes widened at the broken door, and the mess in the living room. "Are you guys okay?" he asked them, stepping over part of the coffee table leg.

"Could use some help putting my shoulder back in," Don hissed in pain as he moved to a standing position. He looked at Colby expectantly.

Colby held up a hand. "Don, you should really get EMS or someone-"

"Colby. We don't have time, okay? Please, just do it."

Don saw him exchange a glance with David, and then he sighed. He stepped over to where Don was standing, and gripped his wrist. "Count of three?" Colby asked.

Don nodded. "Yeah."

"One-"

"Damn it!" Don added a few other choice words on top of those as Colby pulled his arm forward and the ball popped back into the socket. He almost fell backwards onto the couch as pain rocketed through his arm. Surprisingly, the pain was now reduced to a dull roar, though, so Colby must've done something right.

"You good?" Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, looking at his older brother.

Don nodded. "Then what the hell happened here tonight, Don? What's been going on for the last two weeks that you can't tell me about?"

David and Colby exchanged a look with their boss. All three looked appropriately guilty. And Charlie was no slouch, he caught it immediately. Amita threaded her fingers through his. "You…you all…"

"Charlie, sit, before you hurt yourself," Colby suggested.

"Look, I had good reasons to keep you out of the loop, I mean, look what happened here, with Dad," Don said.

Charlie eyed him. "Not your best argument, Don."

Don sighed, running a hand down his face. "Okay, you're right, Charlie. Look, Daryl Langager escaped off a prison transport two weeks ago. I was one of the ones who tracked him down the first time he went to jail, he's never forgiven me for finding him."

"We knew he'd be after Don," David took up the explanation, "and anybody working on Don's team."

"Guy's gotten out twice now, seems pretty determined," Colby added, looking at Charlie pointedly. "Nobody wanted to take the risk."

"Plus," David added, "we're thinking this time, he had help on the inside."

"And that's why you didn't bring Charlie in on the search?" Amita clarified, and David nodded.

"I shouldn't have even come over tonight," Don said. He started pacing. "I should've stayed at the office, or gone to my apartment, but Dad…I hadn't seen him in awhile, a-and guilty conscience, I guess." He swore. "If he's got help on the inside, somebody could've given him the Suburban's GPS. Or-"

He looked at Charlie, and his shoulders sagged. "Or he could've been tailing me, and followed me here."

David caught the look that passed between both brothers. Charlie's was accusatory; Don's, guilt. "There's no way you could've known, Don," David jumped in before the boys could start another argument. "Right now, we need to focus on finding him and your dad."

"What did Langager want?" Colby asked his boss. "Did he say anything?"

Don eyed him. "You mean, 'did he outline his entire revenge plot to me while his partner had a knee in my spinal column'?"

"Don-"

"Yeah, he did." Angry at himself for not putting up more of a fight, Don dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. "Langager told me I need to set him up with a new life. New social, new identity, that kind of thing. That he's gonna hold onto our dad until I do that."

"Makes sense," Charlie said dully from the couch. Amita leaned back against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. Don looked at him, cocking his head to show he was listening. "Well," Charlie continued, "he keeps trying to disappear, and you won't let him. So this time, he's making sure you let him."