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


El Dorado Motel
1300 Hours PST

Don hit the brakes so hard on the SUV that he left rubber on the pavement. David had to brace himself against the dash to keep from going through the windshield-he wasn't sure the seatbelt would do the job. Don somehow managed to put the SUV in park and throw open the driver's side door all in one motion. He stood behind it, inbetween the door and the seam of the cab. "Langager!" he yelled.

Charlie had been right. The El Dorado Motel had been in foreclosure for six months, and the owner had long since vacated the property, but the stolen plates on the only other vehicle in the lot matched the plates on the vehicle Langager had swiped on his way out of prison.

He's here, Don knew.

Behind him, Colby, Liz, and Nikki had set up their own perimeter, and LAPD SWAT was right behind them in full tac gear, ready to breach on Don's signal.

"Got your papers, Langager!" Don tried again. "Social Security, passport, driver's license, you name it. Even got that new name since you hate Daryl so much. How about you come on out, Daryl?"

Movement. Second floor. Don ducked down behind the door as shots rang out from the second floor balcony above their heads. Agent Locke had come out of a second floor room and started firing from behind the cement and stucco pillars holding the building together.

"Who's got eyes?" Don yelled.

"Me," David replied, and squeezed off a shot. There was a yelp from above them. "Got a piece of him," David announced.

Locke wasn't down yet, though, and he fired again. Don was counting shots. "Locke! You got two left, we've got way more than that down here! Give it up!"

"You can't have him! You can't!" Locke yelled at him, his voice bouncing off the cement and stucco. He leaned out from behind the support pillar.

A shot rang out from Don's left. Locke's service pistol clattered through the railing and down to the ground, and Locke slumped against the pillar, his hand falling loosely through the rails.

Don turned. Nikki's stance was impeccable, and the fire in her eyes told Don she was responsible for that final shot. She nodded once.

The hotel room door directly in front of Don's SUV opened a crack. "Agent Eppes!"

Langager. "Your boy's done out here," Don shouted back. "It's over, Langager!"

"Is it, though?" Langager's voice was casual. "You said you had some paperwork for me? Come on in. Alone. No gun!"

"We don't wanna give him another hostage, Don," Liz told her boss.

"We don't know if the one he's got is alive," Don replied quietly. "I need to know. I'll be fine."

"Yeah," Colby's voice muttered from nearby. "I seem to remember a similar situation awhile back."

Don's smile was grim, and he popped a piece of gum. "That one turned out okay in the end, didn't it?" With that, he tossed his pistol on the driver's seat, and held up his hands, motioning for Nikki to hand him the fake paperwork they'd worked up for Langager.

Not that he was going to need it. Don had no intention of letting him walk out of that room a free man.

Nikki wordlessly handed over the plastic bag with the documents and Don moved forward. The door opened a little wider, and Langager allowed the law enforcement officials outside a smile. No way would they fire with Don between them in the line of fire. Don turned in the doorway, nodded to David, and stepped inside.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dinginess of the hotel room. His eyes caught Langager first, standing between the two beds, and then he saw his father.

Alan was lying on the opposite bed, turned away from Don so he couldn't see his face. Don swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. "You're not getting a damn thing until I see that he's okay."

"Your dad? He's good," Langager shrugged. "Few cuts and bruises. Sounds like he's in better shape than Chris is." He shook his head. "He was a good kid. Impressionable, but a good kid."

He looked at Don. "You're the guy, though. You're the one I'm glad is here with me now."

"I got a girlfriend," Don shot back.

Langager nodded. "Yeah. She's cute. Thought about taking her, maybe your brother. Oh yeah, did my homework on you, Don," he added. "Chris helped, a bit. You've been on my tail a long time."

"Yeah well, I'd apologize, but," Don shrugged, inwardly willing his father to move. Something. Anything. "I'm not sorry."

"I'm not either," Langager agreed. He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry about the house. Hope you guys don't have too much of a repair bill."

"Cut the bullshit," Don interjected. "What do you want?"

"I'm not walkin' out of here," Langager said. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Don narrowed his eyes. "Really? 'Cause I hear they've got a nice place picked out for you back at Lompoc."

"Maybe," Langager agreed. He took a step toward Don, and Don spotted what looked like a shard of mirror in his hand now. "But I'll still be here." He pointed with the mirror shard in his hand at Don's forehead. "You'll be thinking about me and what I did," Langager told him. "So really, I might be locked up again, but I'll still be out here. Right there. With you, all the time."

"I'm not gonna give you a second thought."

That proclamation made the smug look in Langager's eyes falter, just a bit. Don stepped forward, so the shard of glass was within striking distance of his vest. "You're gonna go back in the hole," Don told him. "And you're gonna sit there and waste away until the day they walk you down the hall and strap you down. You're nothing to me, Daryl. You're just another folder in my desk."

"I-" There was a tremble in Langager's voice, the first time Don had heard him crack in the past 24 hours.


Los Angeles FBI Field Office
That same time

Charlie stood at the sound of his brother's announcement. "I'm not gonna give you a second thought." Amita stood beside him, holding his hand as Charlie took a step toward the speaker phone.

That's what this has been about this entire time, Charlie realized. Attention. He's been after Don's attention. He wants him to understand. To sympathize.

"Like hell that's going to happen," Charlie said, making Amita wonder what he was talking about.

"You're just another folder in my desk."

"I-"

"You came after my family, tried to make it personal. Tried to make me notice you. Well, you got my attention, but see, I have a short attention span. Must be why I can't ever make heads or tails of my brother's math." There was irony in Don's voice. Charlie knew he was lying. Don was smart. He may not understand the formulas, the operations, the theory, but he got the practical application. "You're forgettable, Daryl. I dunno what you did to Locke to get him to be your lap dog. But you're nothing special."

"You came a-after me. For ten years you've come after me!"

"I came after you 'cause that's my job." Don's voice was steady, conversational. Charlie could only imagine the look on Langager's face. "That's it. When we're done here, you're no longer my problem. And the next guy's gonna come along, and you're just gonna be a footnote in my career. Just a name in a news article, buried at the bottom of the back page."

There was silence. And then, on the other end of the phone, there was a scream.


El Dorado Motel
1325 Hours PST

"And the next guy's gonna come along, and you're just gonna be a footnote in my career," Don told Langager. The other man was practically purple with rage, and Don could tell he was about to let loose any second. "Just a name in a news article, buried at the bottom of the back page."

Langager roared, launching himself at Don with the shard of mirror. Don twisted out of the way, grabbing Langager's wrist with his hand and bent it back, driving his thumb into his median artery to get him to drop the glass. Langager howled and took a wild swing at Don with his other hand. Don ducked under it and threw Langager into a chokehold. Pain radiated through his shoulder, sending white-hot pricks of fire through his vision, but he refused to let go.

Vaguely, he was aware of someone else entering the room. SWAT must have heard the commotion and got tired of waiting. "Don! Let him go!" someone yelled at him. Colby, maybe. He didn't know for sure. He felt Langager go limp in his arms, and it was only because of his shoulder that he finally released the man, throwing him aside as he staggered to his feet, pushing past Colby and SWAT to make his way over to his father. "Dad?" Don's vision was swimming, his stomach turned. Carefully, he rolled his father over

Alan was unconscious. He could see a cut above his eye, dried blood indicating it was a few hours old. Alan's hands were cuffed together, his right had some ugly bruising. But apart from those injuries, it looked like Langager had decided not to put his particular set of skills to use.

"Dad." Don shook his father gently, but Alan didn't wake up. "I need EMS!" he called over his shoulder. "I…we need-"

The pain in his shoulder finally overtook him, and Colby managed to catch him and guide him to the mattress before he fell off the edge of the bed.