Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Chapter 15: Smells Like Team Spirit

For a moment, the scene seemed to be set in stone. It couldn't have been more than a second, but it seemed much longer than that, his senses were taking in every little detail as though they had all the time in the world. And yet, he was keenly aware that they hadn't. This moment was bound to end, soon, and when it did –

Now it did. There was the soft metallic click of the trigger being pulled back, and then, there was… well, nothing. The scene remained unchanged, with Marcy standing above him, the gun in her hand, and Joey standing just a yard away, his knife still blazing in the light of Marcy's torch.

He could feel the rapid beating of his heart, he could feel the tremble of his entire body as he was kneeling there on the ground, the gravel piercing through his jeans. A memory of his arrest flashed through his mind, and it occurred to him that this was the second time this month that someone was holding a gun against his head. Before he could elaborate on that thought though, he could hear the rustle in the shadows nearby, and he could see the look of surprise on Marcy's face who was still staring at the gun. His senses were taking it all in, providing him with a mountain of data that should enable him to determine what to do next. Yet, it didn't. He had no idea what –

"FBI! Drop your weapons!"

Marcy whirled around to David's voice, as did Charlie, and that was when he saw the murderous look in Joey's eyes. Instead of following David's orders, he came charging at Charlie, the knife raised, maybe trying to take him out while he still could, maybe trying to take him hostage, but truth be told, Charlie didn't care, didn't even have time to think about Joey's motives. His reaction was perfectly intuitive as he held up his arms in an attempt to shield the rest of his body from the deadly knife in Joey's hands. He fell on his back and he tried to fend him off, to kick him and the knife away, but before he had, the loud bang of a gunshot was tearing through the night, numbing his ears for a moment.

"Don't move, Marcy!" he heard Colby shout before he'd understood what was going on, and a moment later, David was next to him, kneeling on Joey and making sure he let go of his knife. Marcy, too, was lowering her weapon under the watchful eyes of the caged-in agents, giving them a deadly stare of hatred in return.

Joey was screaming and wincing, and only now did Charlie realize that David must have shot him in his arm or his shoulder, which had made the attacker release him. At the same time, Colby had retrieved his own weapon and was now, along with his colleagues who'd followed his example, keeping Marcy covered from inside the cage.

A cage that was still illuminated by the raging fire.

"Quick, we need to lose the handcuffs!" Harvey called out then while he was searching in his pocket for the key. "Charlie, there's a fire extinguisher next to the door on this side of the building, maybe it's still working!"

It took Charlie the fracture of a second to understand what Harvey wanted him to do, then he hastily scrambled to his feet to follow his directions.

"Wait!" Don yelled. "The gunmen!"

"Taken care of," Charlie heard David's appeasement as he was rounding the compound, and he imagined that the officers that had accompanied David were covering them now.

Few seconds later, Charlie had entered the building in the back of the cage, found the fire extinguisher and was soon standing before the door that had to lead into the outdoor area of the compound. He felt the heat going out from it and used the sleeve of his jacket to push down the handle, but nothing happened. He tried again, jerking at the door more forcefully, but the result remained the same.

"It's locked!" he shouted through the door, wondering if anybody would be able to hear him.

"Where's the key?" he heard David shout, even though it sounded rather distant and muffled. It took him a moment to realize David had to be addressing Marcy or Joey, but before he heard an answer, there was Harvey's voice, a little clearer than David's, "Step away from the door, Charlie, we're going to shoot it off its hinges!"

The words only registered after a second or two, and when they did, Charlie hastily stumbled out of the line the bullets would take, and he hadn't reached the recess yet when the first shot rang out, soon to be followed by others. As he listened to the clang of the bullets against the metal hinges, he was torn between hope and fear as he couldn't help but wonder whether their plan even had a chance of success. Even if they managed to hit the hinges through the flames and the smoke, did their handguns have enough force to break them?

The shooting continued for several seconds, and Charlie had given up any attempt of counting the shots while he was growing smaller and smaller in his recess, wondering when they were going to stop. It occurred to him that if this wasn't working, he should get back to David and their captives, for one of them probably had the key, but at the same time he figured he shouldn't leave, in case Harvey's plan would actually work. Then, the shots stopped, or so he thought, but he still didn't dare to come any closer to the door. Maybe they were just recharging their weapons?

"See if you can push it open!" he heard Colby's raspish voice, loud enough to make him understand that the words were directed at him.

He swallowed nervously, only realizing now how dry his throat was. He was well aware that physical strength wasn't his forte, yet he was equally well aware that right now, there was nobody else here who could do this job, at least if he didn't want to change places with David or the LAPD officers and watch their captives – and he most certainly did not want that.

He braced himself against the door, hearing a metal squeal and feeling it yield about an inch, but that was it. He needed more force, which meant he needed more momentum, which meant he either had to change his mass or increase the speed of its center. Alright then. If physics told him this was the best way to proceed, fearing the pain it would cause was not helpful, and neither was it relevant, not when there were people's lives depending on his actions.

So he took a run-up of a couple of feet and jumped, hitting the door with his arm and shoulder, from which a ball of pain expanded to the rest of his body. The door held.

"Do we need more bullets?" came Harvey's question then, louder now through the crack in the door, but also rougher, ending in a hoarse cough.

Charlie regarded the hinges, which actually didn't look as though they would hold for much longer. True, the door was still more closed than open, but the hinges were in a bad shape, the material connecting the door to the frame had been damaged so badly that it shouldn't take much to rip it off for good.

Well, it better.

Instead of wasting valuable time and energy by giving them an answer, he took another run-up and this time felt the door give way, making him stumble into what felt like an antecourt of hell. By now, the fire had taken hold of most of the interior of the cage, and despite the heat confronting him, Charlie felt a shudder run down his spine. Where were Don and the others? How could they still be alive in such an inferno?

"The fire extinguisher, quick!" he heard Harvey shout before his eyes had regained orientation, his voice thinning out further in the smoke, and Charlie realized there was not another moment to be lost.

The irony that this was the first time that he could make use of the countless safety briefings he'd had to attend at university over the years did not elude him as he was aiming at a spot before him where the flames seemed a little less high than in the other places, attempting to create a cutting through the wall of fire.

The beginning was easy, but as soon as he had to advance further into the fire, to get nearer to the agents, he was at risk of losing orientation again. The heat was encircling him, the smoke was getting into his eyes, making them tear up, and it was getting into his lungs, making him cough. He needed to get going though, it could only be a couple of feet further…

"Stop, we can get through now!" a hoarse voice called out towards him, probably Colby.

Then, suddenly, there were shadows coming towards him through the smoke, pulling him with them outside, where there was air and coolness.

Don was stumbling against walls and doors as he was making his way through a world of smoke. His lungs were burning and it hurt to breathe, but that did no longer matter, for they could leave this blazing cage of hell behind now, and if he wasn't mistaken, they'd all come out of it relatively unharmed.

Once they were outside, they stopped, bending over to get in air. Their attempts were being sabotaged by the irritation of smoke in their airways resulting in coughing, but the more air came in, the more oxygen was entering their body, the better it became. All the while, Don never relinquished the hold around Charlie's arm, intent on not releasing him before he would have made sure his brother was okay as well.

"Everyone alright?" he squeezed the words through his throat. It was hurting, and there was a slight, yet continuous cough accompanying his words. His eyes were burning, too, and tearing up, rendering his sight slightly blurry. Other than that, however, he was okay, and when he looked back at the smoke-filled building that was a telltale intimation of the blazing cage, that almost seemed like a small miracle.

His colleagues, too, assured him they were fine, still coughing, still with reddened eyes, but it was enough to satisfy Don's need for reassurance. From the side, he gave his brother a quick appraising glance and was further assured by the fact that Charlie seemed in even better shape than his co-workers.

"To David," Don directed them then, deliberately conveying the message with as little words as possible, both for the sake of his voice and for that of his lone team member. With his left arm still nothing but a painful hindrance, David shouldn't be out in the field to begin with, much less left alone with two dangerous criminals, even though one of them seemed to be incapacitated, thanks to David's well-aimed shot.

Noticing he still had his brother's arm in a fairly firm grip, he exchanged that for a hand in his back, still unwilling to let him out of his reach completely. Especially before he would have learned how the hell Charlie had found himself in this situation, he could definitely do without him wandering off.

David had just come into sight, still taking care of their captives and apparently having everything under control, when they heard the sirens of the fire department coming nearer, making Don frown. True, the interior of the cage was burning quite fiercely, but from the outside, the fire had to be rather inconspicuous, especially since now, at night, the street outside the zoo had to be deserted and the smoke wasn't as noticeable as it would have been during the day. "How did they get here so quickly?" he asked, directing the words half to himself, half to his co-workers.

"I called them on my way in," Charlie piped up, making Don turn his head around towards him in surprise. Frankly, 'quickness of mind' wouldn't have been an attribute he would have associated with his easily distracted little brother, at least not in such a critical situation. He remained silent though, knowing that there were still a number of issues to be dealt with, and that he still didn't possess all the necessary facts to do that.

"Hey, you alright?" David asked with a slightly apprehensive tinge in his voice as they were coming closer to him.

"We are," Megan answered for all of them. To Don, she said, "I'll make sure the gunmen are taken care of."

"I had two LAPD officers go after them, they got them in custody," David threw in.

Don nodded, but still thought it couldn't hurt to make sure. "Harvey, would you mind going with her? Just in case anyone else is hiding in the shadows." He still found it strange to be working with someone who was in no clear hierarchy towards him, but thankfully, Harvey was very down-to-earth in that regard and just nodded his consent before they both left.

While Colby assisted David in taking care of their two captives, Don decided it was now time to check on his brother more thoroughly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked in a low voice, unwilling to be overheard by his fellow agents – or by their eco terrorists.

"Me? Yeah. What about you?"

"Fine," Don replied rather monosyllabically and with a blatant disregard of the husky quality of his voice while trying to estimate the accuracy of his brother's response. Charlie was still looking pretty spooked, and his speech was a little too fast, too nervous, but maybe that was to be expected after everything that had just happened.

"What about your arm?" he instead decided to focus his attention on the damage he could actually see.

"My arm?" Charlie asked, uncomprehending. Apparently, it was only when he followed Don's gaze that he noticed the bloody tear in the sleeve of his jacket from when Joey had attacked him with his knife. "Oh," was all he said, and Don decided that either Charlie had one hell of an adrenaline reservoir or the injury he'd sustained wasn't that bad after all.

"And your head?" he went on instead, remembering his brother's dazed look after Joey had knocked him down.

"Okay, I think."

Now that he'd reached the end of his list, Don allowed himself a small sigh of relief before he jumped back into his professional self. "You have more luck than brains then," he told his brother and decided to leave it at that for the time being. He had more pressing matters to tend to.

The next few minutes, he was fully occupied with informing the head of the fire brigade of the situation they would find, and handing over their suspects to some LAPD officers, who would make sure Joey's cleanly shot-through arm would be taken care of and who would also look after their bad guys until they'd all be ready for questioning. Last but not least, Don was also busy making sure that his team, including Harvey and Charlie, got checked out by medical personnel. Luckily, their first impression was confirmed by the experts, and after the agents had breathed in some oxygen and the rather superficial wound on Charlie's arm had been treated, they were all let off with a clean bill of health.

Don stepped away from the ambulance car as the last of them and joined his team, which had gathered in a safe distance from the monkey cage, where the fire had by now been gotten under control.

"Alright, let's call it a day," he decided. "We'll meet at the office tomorrow morning at nine."

"Thank G-d," Colby muttered, "I was starting to think you'd make us interrogate them tonight. I think I'm getting too old for almost getting burned to death, so next time, David, you might wanna show up a couple minutes earlier."

"How about next time, you don't get yourself into trouble?" David gave back with that same kind of grim humor that Don had often noticed about his team members after a successful operation.

For a moment, Colby acted as though he was seriously deliberating David's proposal before rejecting it with a playful, "Nah, where would be the fun in that?" Then, however, he indeed sobered up a little. "Seriously though, thanks, man. You, too, Charlie."

Charlie, startled by suddenly being included in the exchange, gave him a look full of confusion. "Me? For what?"

Colby raised his eye-brows, giving the still smoldering monkey cage a meaningful glance. "Seriously?"

The blood rushed into Charlie's head as he, too, took in the destruction the fire had caused. "Oh, that," he stammered. "But I didn't… I mean, I just did what you told me to do. And if David hadn't shown up in time –"

"Well, he did," Colby interrupted him and apparently thought that would settle the matter.

Don, however, was of a different opinion. "And what if he hadn't?" he asked and noticed that a slight menace had entered his voice. He gave David a hard look that he knew didn't fail to have the desired effect, for David bit his lower lip nervously and even cast down his eyes, the guilty conscience clearly showing on his face. "We'll talk about this tomorrow," Don told him, mostly because he hadn't figured out yet what to do. Yes, judging from the way the facts were presenting themselves to Don right now, David had acted recklessly and had thereby put the life of a civilian at risk – Don's own brother, no less – but, and that was a strong point in favor of him, he'd also managed to save all their lives in the process.

After that little exchange, their goodbyes were more tense than the successful outcome of this case might have called for, and Don was well aware that it had been himself who'd killed the mood. He didn't care, though, not when he remembered that scene only a couple of minutes ago, Charlie kneeling on the ground execution-style, and definitely not when his imagination provided him with an alternative ending.

He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of that image, as he led the way to Charlie's car while his team members rode back with Colby and Megan, to whom Don had entrusted his car keys. They were walking slowly and in silence, a thick silence, and Don just barely managed to lift his hand in greeting when his team members rode past them.

"I never meant to jeopardize the arrest, I'm sorry," Charlie suddenly said, his words coming out quickly and in so low a voice that Don had trouble discerning them.

Don huffed. His brother still lived in a world where being sorry was good enough, instead of in a world where not thinking twice about the consequences of your actions might relieve you from thinking for good.

"What are you even doing here?" he asked, still trying to figure out exactly how angry he should be right now. "And where the hell did you get a freaking gun?"

Charlie swallowed, and his voice was still rather hoarse and rambling. "I took another look at the network, and then David and I realized that Marcy must have lured you into a trap, so I drove him here, and David gave me his back-up piece for protection."

Don clenched his jaw, staring back at the monkey cage and fighting hard not to lose it. He had trouble believing that David, of all people, would have acted as recklessly as that, but that was what all facts were pointing towards. "So David chose to bring you along to an active crime scene, thinking it would be a good idea to just hand a civilian a deadly weapon?" he made sure and had to realize that he hadn't been able to suppress his anger completely.

"It's not his fault," Charlie quickly came to his rescue, "he told me to stay in the car –"

"THEN WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU DO THAT?!"

His outburst had bought him some seconds of quiet, though not enough to calm down his rage. Even worse, Charlie was starting to get defensive, which always tended to irritate Don further. "What was I supposed to do?!" he gave back rather heatedly. "There was a fire, and I thought you were trapped, which you were, by the way, and I had no idea of knowing whether maybe David had fallen into their hands as well!"

"And if he had, what were you going to do? Take them all out on your own with that little gun of yours? Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"I hadn't thought it through, okay? All I knew was that I had to do something, I couldn't just sit back and watch all of you burn to death! I just had to try and help you!"

"Help us?! Are you kidding me? What good would it have done if you had become another one of their victims, did you ever think of that? Did it ever occur to you what would have happened if that stupid gun of yours hadn't jammed?"

"It didn't jam, it wasn't loaded! You really think I would walk around with a loaded gun?"

Don had meant to angrily shout back, to continue the aggression, but he was still hung up on Charlie's last words. "What?"

"I didn't want to take the gun," Charlie explained, calmer now, though still with an unmistakable note of irritation in his voice, "so David took out the bullets, so I could still scare people off with that without risking to accidentally shoot anyone."

Don was shaking his head, partly in an attempt to buy time. Charlie's revelation had made him lose a strong point, but he still hadn't lost his anger. "Regardless, you should have just stayed in the car, like David told you to."

"I couldn't," Charlie insisted. "I couldn't just turn a blind eye to what was going on around me and leave you hanging. I swore to myself to never make the same mistake again I made with Mom."

Don sighed, feeling his anger dwindle, despite himself. This was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard his brother say, no doubt about it. It was, however, also quite touching. "Charlie," he started with a heavy sigh, but wasn't entirely certain what he was going to say, "we talked about this. It's okay, we're good, you don't have to make up for anything."

Now, it was Charlie's turn to shake his head. "I'm not trying to make up for what I did back then. But I learned my lesson. I never want to let you down again, or anyone I care about."

He hesitated and bent down his head, but the next moment, the head turned upwards again and those big, chocolate-brown eyes were looking right at him with a softness that was so forceful that it almost knocked Don over backwards. With a voice that was holding the same kind of soft intensity, he ended, "Don't tell me you would have acted differently if you'd been in my position."

Don looked back into those eyes, thinking that Charlie was right, that he would have done the same for his team, and most definitely for his brother. For a moment, he was tempted to tell Charlie that, but at the same time make it clear to him that they couldn't compare that, for Don was an agent, he knew what he was doing when he was out in the field, much in contrast to his little brother. Then again, he knew, he felt it, that the point would have sidestepped what Charlie was trying to say. For when Don remembered his former self, he knew, even at a time that he hadn't been on the job, even when he hadn't been trained, he would have acted just like his brother had.

"Still doesn't mean it wasn't a pretty thick move," he eventually grumbled.

"Look, I'm really sorry," Charlie tried again, with a distinctly conciliatory tinge in his voice. "I never thought my presence might aggravate the situation, I was never planning on running into Marcy, or her accomplice."

"I figured as much," Don gave back dryly. At the same time, however, he realized that despite everything, he couldn't really be angry with Charlie anymore. Besides, now that he'd had both the necessary information and the time to put the pieces together, Don was pretty sure that Charlie's presence had prevented worse things from happening. If he hadn't shown up, the two gunmen wouldn't have left, which would have made it rather difficult and risky for David and the two officers to overpower them. Given the terrain, it would have been difficult for the three of them to surround the terrorists, and they had ample reason to believe that they wouldn't just have surrendered, but would have tried to shoot their way out of there or go down fighting. So Don imagined that David and the two officers had probably been waiting in the bushes for an opportunity to strike, an opportunity that had only presented itself with the diversion Charlie's showing-up had caused.

However, Don chose not to share his thoughts with his brother, for even if Charlie's actions had given David an opportunity to take out the terrorists with minimal damage, the way things had turned out in their favor had been by sheer luck, and it was definitely no behavior that Don wanted to encourage. "Look," he therefore chose a compromise, "we all came through it alright, that's what matters. But I still don't think we should tell Dad about the juicy details of your heroism tonight."

"Agreed," Charlie replied quickly, fairly freaked out by the prospect of having to explain his reckless actions to their father. Don saw him swallow once again before his head turned sideways to look at him. There was still some insecurity in his voice, but now, hope had entered it as well. "So… are you still mad?" he asked.

Don sighed deeply, but at the same time felt himself smile, unable to stop it. "Well, you did act real stupidly, and you gotta realize you've had more than one guardian angel up there looking out for you," he said, fighting to keep his voice stern, as he knew it should be. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel something like pride. "But – well, if it hadn't been for you and David, we would be pushing up daisies now, so I guess I can't really be angry at you anymore. Actually, as stupid as you were, you also showed a damn lot of guts tonight."

At his last words, as some twisted sort of peace offering, he ruffled his brother's hair, knowing fully well that Charlie hated that. When he tried to fend him off and free his head that had become red with bashfulness, Don felt his smile grow, and suddenly in a much better mood than only ten minutes earlier, he added, "Next time you choose to save my life though, you might wanna try not to give me a heart attack in the process."

A/N: Sounds like the end? Not quite. We still got an epilogue left, but then this little story will indeed have come to an end.