A/N First chapter is Part One and was written for the WA Mistaken Identity Challenge. Word count: 7900. It's a standalone story.
A/N Part Two is dealing with the aftermath. That part spans 5 chapters, posting is every weekday until complete.
Short intro in case a reader is fandom blind: Numb3rs had been a crime TV series about two brothers: Don, the FBI agent and Charlie, the mathematician, Eppes. The FBI solved cases with the help of Charlie who used math and other advanced technology to tackle a crime.
Mistaken
Part One
The knock startled Charlie, and he looked up from his laptop. His door, left slightly ajar, opened and his brother Don poked in his head, smirking. "Still working?"
Snorting, Charlie ignored him and finished the last sentence of his email. "Not only FBI agents work long hours," Charlie said. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Don rubbing across his forehead as if he could brush away the weariness etched on his face. "I am a full professor for applied mathematics at CalSci, the famous university," Charlie continued. "I'm sure you have heard me talking about it once." His brother dropped down in Charlie's visitor chair while a short chuckle chased away some of his tiredness. "I'm always busy, even if I don't consult for you and the FBI," Charlie grumbled in a mock-serious tone.
Don laughed out loud. "And I appreciate it. Your last numbers really hit the jackpot."
His last numbers had been an easy hot zone calculation for him, mapping areas Don's serial rapist avoided statically significantly. People tended to note things that were present, but missing things also provided important clues for Charlie. Missing things like the gun and its holster that should have been clipped on Don's belt. He was so used to see his brother with his badge and gun, the contrast seemed wrong on many levels. "You got him?" Charlie asked carefully. He had been around long enough to understand the implied meaning of a missing gun and Don's dropped shoulders.
"What?" Don's eyes snapped back to the present, and he stared at Charlie. "Oh, yeah. Thanks. We got him through his job." Don's eyes traveled further and stared longingly at Charlie's coffee can. "We learned from our mistakes and not only checked the people living in a hot zone but also who works there."
"Everybody okay?" Charlie lowered his head and tried not to stare too much at the empty space on Don's belt where his gun should have been.
Don gave him a one sided shrug. "Nobody hurt from our side." His evasive answer sent out enough clues that Don wasn't ready to talk about it yet.
Nodding, Charlie checked his email before he hit send. Since Dr. Mildred Finch had overtaken the math department, his administrative work had doubled. Only his knowledge that she didn't do it in retaliation for his work for the FBI but because she needed to get the funding and used his work to get it, helped him finish his part of the deal on time. Or maybe because Millie still dated their father Alan and therefore had a perfect notification relay model if she hadn't time to come over herself. But now that this was done, he had to finish his grading.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his brother fishing Charlie's coffee can. It was one of the expensive ones with an internal heating system. "Hey! That's mine!" Charlie called out and made a move to grab it. But Don's reflexes were faster, and he secured his prize. "One of my students bought it for me as a thank-you for my help." Charlie pouted and crossed his arms. He would have given Don his coffee. But only if he had asked nicely.
Don grinned broadly. "Say, are you corruptible?" He took a sip, slurping the dark liquid to show his enjoyment. "Who would have thought?"
"No!" Charlie denied. "It was an anonymous gift from a student. It was just left on my desk with a small note. As long as I don't know who bought it, I am not biased in my grading," Charlie explained while he looked for the papers to grade. Usually, Amita would do the grading, but she was finishing her second thesis and deserved the break. Pausing, Charlie remembered where he had last seen the papers. Now he just needed to find his keys.
"Well," Don said while he climbed to his feet. "Thanks for the coffee. But now I have to go tracking Megan down. I don't know why Larry has a phone if he can't be reached by it."
"Oh, Megan's here for Larry?" Charlie grinned.
"Don't get any thoughts," Don grumbled even as he also grinned. "She has to call off the date. We have a witness to protect and I'm on desk duty."
Charlie searched through his bag and his desk. Apparently, Special Agent Megan Reeves was supposed to have the evening free to go on a date with Charlie's good friend Larry Fleinhardt, professor for astrophysics. But after whatever happened that had put Don on desk duty and his gun into an evidence bag, Megan as his relief supervisor had to take over. "True love," Charlie singsonged, drawing a real smile on Don's face. "True love doesn't need a cell phone." The FBI agent and the absent-minded professor, Charlie shook his head. He was still waiting for the film version of that story.
"Yeah, but I still need to drop her off at the hotel. And I won't wait until Larry could be found."
With a relieved shout, Charlie finally found his keys in his pockets. He held them up. "Well, as you have drunk my coffee you also can get the papers from my car."
"Oh yeah?" In Don's eyes gleamed the challenge but his words seemed slightly slurred.
Not bothering to answer, Charlie threw the keys to his brother. But this time Don's usually excellent reflexes left him. The keys dropped down with a short bang. "If you ask so nicely," Don trailed off. "But really, we need to work on your throwing technique." Trying to hide his failure, Don smirked before he bent down to retrieve the keys.
Charlie snorted. "My throwing technique is far better than your catching. The papers are in the trunk."
Don played with the keys as he pondered his options. Then he shrugged. "Fine, let's give Megan a little more time. Colby could use the break, too."
"Colby Granger and Megan have the job together?" Sometimes, Don's co-workers almost seemed like his own co-workers. Suddenly, Don tilted to one side and ran into the door frame. "Everything all right?" Charlie asked.
"Yes," Don mumbled and it sounded strange, almost as if he was drunk. Maybe he was just embarrassed. "I'll be right back."
Before Charlie could ask again, Don stumbled out of the door. Not wanting to irritate him, Charlie remained by his desk. Don had to be really tired to give in so fast.
"Charlie, you're still here?" His father Alan walked through the door. "I thought you and Amita would be home by now."
"Why?"
"Oh," his father hesitated. "Just so."
Grinning broadly, Charlie stood up. "I see. You're here for Millie."
"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" It was both a question and a challenge.
"No," Charlie said. His mother had been a wise woman to make Alan promise to start dating again after her death. He just would have preferred somebody else but his boss.
"Where's your brother?" Alan asked. "I met Colby outside, and he's waiting for both Megan and Don to come back."
"He should be back by now. He just wanted to get some papers from my car. Strange." Charlie grabbed his cell phone and hit speed dial. Usually, his brother either answered on the second ring or he had it off. But this time it rang several times, until the call finally connected. Relieved, Charlie smirked. "Well, dearest brother of mine. Did you get lost on the way to the car?"
Instead of the usual snapped 'Eppes' or a smart response, only an eerie silence greeted him. Something cold gripped Charlie's heart and it started to beat faster and faster. Before he could ask again, a voice answered him. "So, you're his brother, huh?"
That wasn't Don's voice. Cold fear stole his breath. Something had been visible on his face as Alan hurried over. With a suddenly dry mouth, Charlie tried to form a question. "Who is -" The line went dead. Slowly, Charlie lowered his cell, his hands trembling.
"Charlie?"
Not wasting time, Charlie ran out of his office. He had to check on his brother.
Frantic. This was the right word to describe everything since Charlie had run into Megan. A fast explanation that left her with more questions than answers but still allowed her to extract the crucially first parts of the puzzle. First, a call to Colby to check the parking lot and Charlie's car. Followed by a call to FBI control asking for a report and a trace. Finally, she also tried Don's cell but like Alan had said it went straight to voice mail.
"Megan, what's going on?" Alan demanded, the worry etched on his face. Panic spread fast and easy between human beings and the call had left Charlie panicking.
"We finished our current case. Our suspect is in the hospital under guard. Maybe Don just lost his cell and somebody had found it as Charlie called?" She suggested with a smile that felt false. Don was as attached to his phone as to his watch. Either he turned it off or it had to be taken off him. While this day had been hard he still had a job to do and Megan knew without a doubt, he wouldn't slack off. That only left the other option.
"Megan," Charlie said and his voice quivered. "That wasn't Don. Something -"
Before Megan could find an answer for Charlie, her own cell rang. She snapped it open after a short glance at the caller id. "Colby?"
"You need to call it in," Colby Granger said.
Hesitating, Megan licked her dry lips. Colby's background in counterintelligence and his years in the Army had prepared him to deal with unsuspected attacks and strange circumstances. Working as a special agent for the FBI had just honed this ability. If Colby started with the conclusion, this really was bad. "What you've got?"
"I found Don's badge beneath Charlie's car. The car has scratches and," Colby reported, his voice steady and controlled. Too controlled. "Also, you can cancel the trace on Don's phone. I've found it next to the car, smashed."
Accepting a call from a lost and found phone had been a possibility, but accepting a call and then smashing the phone eliminated every other good option including theft. "Anybody around?"
"It's a campus. There is always somebody around and they have a lot of cameras we need to check. I'm working on it, but we need more people. I've called David in and I'll send the next one back trying to recover prints or something from the phone."
Megan nodded. "I'll make the call." It would bring backup and help, the full force of an FBI field office. Yet, it seemed impossibly small and unreliable for the task in front of her. Carefully masking her own fear, she turned back to father and brother. "We need to assume somebody attacked Don."
Alan gasped while Charlie stared at her with a pleading and demanding look in his eyes.
Don woke up. If this could be called waking up. Groaning, Don settled on a better description - he returned to consciousness. He shivered slightly but needed a long time until he figured out the reason for it - he was cold. His throat hurt and as he wanted to swallow he realized that he was parched.
Something was wrong. That much he knew. But he had trouble to come up with a better report. Trying to swallow, he realized that he was parched. Hadn't he had this realization already? Maybe.
His head hurt and Don tried to raise himself up. His shoulders had barely left the ground, hard and cold, as the nausea he hadn't felt yet, overpowered him and left him retching. Nothing but bile came up as he hadn't eaten in a long time. He only had wanted to finish his report, so he could wash the images out of his mind with lots of alcohol.
Maybe this had happened. Maybe he was just hungover.
With a lot of grunting, he raised himself slightly up until he could lean against a cold wall. This couldn't be called sitting, but he had put some space between the meager contents of his stomach and himself. Everything around him seemed cold and hard. And dark. Not to forget it was dark. He should search for a light switch. Maybe then he would figure out where he was.
Heavy foot steps echoed around him and marched straight into his head. Don groaned again. Something was wrong. He had already been over this. Something was wrong, wrong with him.
Suddenly, a door was pushed open and bright, endlessly bright light streamed in.
Don jerked. Raising his right hand to shield his eyes, his left arm followed the movement, and he had to drag it with him. Finally, he realized that his wrists were tied together. Worry joined the nausea and Don wished he could think clearly.
"Horatio, what did you mix up? He's totally wasted!"
Don kept his eyes squeezed shut. No matter how interesting it would be to see the owner of the voice, the nausea, headache and disorientation couldn't take more than the loud voice and brightness of the light.
"I told you I'm no expert. If you hadn't smashed his phone, we wouldn't need to ask for the number just yet," a second voice replied, sounding frustrated.
Don noted in the back of his mind that he had heard two male voices. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to remember this. But it seemed important. Two male voices.
"All right, professor, what's your brother's number. I need to call him," a harsh voice demanded.
Breathing in and breathing out, Don fought against the dizziness and nausea. Somebody had asked a question. A question about a number. Belatedly, Don realized that the voice had spoken about a professor. He wasn't a professor. His brother was one. For math.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, professor. Pay attention. You surely want to be saved by your big FBI brother, don't you?" The first voice boomed again. This time the demand was accompanied by a soft kick in his thigh. Don jerked back.
"Maybe he isn't the math professor," the other voice suggested.
Horatio. A Horatio had mixed something up. Something that had him mixed up. Something - a hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Don made a garbling sound.
"He drank your little cocktail and went to the right car. He is it." Another shake. "Hey, professor, you're a math genius, right?"
Trying to make his tongue work, Don thought about the answer. Math. Right, math was his brother. The hand in his hair, shook his head until he hit the wall behind him sending shock waves of pain through his body and making him drop his hands. He needed to get a hair cut. His last case has needed his full attention and therefore he had postponed something banal as a hair cut to later. Don chuckled. At least this way, he had been saved from an accident. Charlie's last visit at the barbers had ended in a disaster where all of his curls had decorated the floor and not his head anymore. Now he looked like Don. He blinked. What had he been thinking about?
"Hey! I'm talking to you." The next words were accompanied by another harsh shaking. Again the bile rose in his throat. "Let's test this. Tell me what is one thousand five hundred and thirty-two times twenty-three thousand eight hundred and eighty-one?"
Don swallowed hard. Math. Bad guy. Someone had mistaken him for his brother. Just for fun he answered: "Thirty nine million two hundred thousand five hundred and forty-five." If they had wanted math, they should have asked Charlie. But if they wanted an answer, an answer he could give them. Maybe not a correct answer, but an answer nonetheless.
"See, it's the math professor," the voice cheered and pushed Don's head again against the wall.
"Fine. But you should be nicer, or we are going to be in deep trouble," soft voice said.
The chuckle sounded so harsh, Don had no trouble to assign the voice to the right man. "Trouble is want we want. So, now I'm just need the number."
Don blinked. But before he could open his mouth to blurt out a number, the soft voice returned. "Serena has just texted the number. Leave him alone."
Harsh voice, soft voice, a Horatio and a Serena. Don tried to fix the names into his brain. These pieces of information were important. For what? He didn't know, but he still could list all four items as harsh voice shut the door again and plunged Don into the darkness.
Something was wrong, wrong with him.
Out of the blue, Charlie's cell rang. He dropped his notepad and fumbled for the device. "Unknown number," he read out loud.
"Answer it. It could be anybody," Megan instructed Charlie while simultaneously trying to calm him down with a smile as his breaths came faster and faster. "I'm right here. If necessary, I'll take over." If this was whoever had taken Don, they were fast, too fast as except the campus police, Colby and her were still the only ones on scene.
Slowly, Charlie nodded. Then he touched his cell in a way as if he needed to touch something horrible. Snapping it open, he finally allowed the call to connect. As agreed, he put the call on loud speaker.
"Yes?"
"I thought you maybe didn't want to save your brother seeing how long you needed to answer my call." The voice was neither distorted nor spoke the man in a way to hide his identity. This was both good and terrifying. Charlie showed his thumb, the agreed signal that he recognized the voice. Then she mouthed 'proof of life', reminding Charlie to ask for it.
"I want to speak to my brother. I need to hear that he's still -" Charlie broke off. His lips trembled, while his expression reflected the horror he felt.
"You can talk to him soon enough. First you need to call in a press conference."
Colby raised an eyebrow showing the same confusion Megan felt. "A press conference," Charlie voiced the question both agent had.
"Yes, Mister FBI agent, I'll send you a manifest for you to read aloud."
"Agent?" Charlie asked again, his voice so toneless, the question mark at the end was lost.
"Yes, you are an FBI agent, aren't you? If a few thousand people die because of the climate change nobody cares as long as it doesn't happen in your neighborhood. But if a beloved math professor dies then people will listen. Professor Eppes was always willing to listen. He tried to green the university and helped the research. While the FBI had nothing better to do, than prosecuting the people who are trying to save this planet. We won't hurt him as long as you do what we say." The voice took a deep breath. "If the FBI is useful for something, it's calling in a press conference!"
Charlie paled rapidly, his white fingers clenched around the small plastic device. The realization shook the room - they had mistaken Don for Charlie. For a moment Megan feared he would snap the cell in two. Grabbing the phone, she took charge of the call. "This is Special Agent Megan Reeves," she introduced herself. "Before we can talk about a press conference, we need to have a proof of life." She forced the words past her dry throat. If the kidnappers had prepared their mission she would get Don on the phone and warn him or get a clue from him. Either way, talking to Don was her highest priority.
The long silence on the other end made Megan fear the worst. Colby had guided Charlie to the sofa. While it may had seemed like a nice gesture, Colby had done it to ensure that Charlie couldn't blurt out the truth by mistake. They had made clear what they thought about the FBI. Don's chances increased as long as they thought him to be Charlie.
"We will only talk to Agent Eppes," the voice on the other end finally snarled.
"If you know so much about the FBI then you know that we are not allowed to work cases involving family," Megan said and was proud of how steady her voice sounded.
"And yet the fed answered."
"To save a life, we always use the help of the family. Up until now we didn't know that your demands are political ones."
"Political? It's about nothing else but survival of our planet!" Anger, clear and unmasked anger forced its way through the tiny loudspeaker into the room.
Without warning the call ended dumping the room in controlled silence. With her call to ADIC Wright, all necessary tools were at her disposal including tracing and access to mobile phone data. Colby had started all of this the moment it had been clear who was calling. She would get the word the moment the technicians in the office had any results. Until then, Megan stared at Colby. How could this happened?
Colby seemed to guess her question and shrugged. "The brotherly resemblance had been pretty strong the last two weeks." He rubbed at his neck. "Don has his hair longer, Charlie's hair is shorter." He screwed up his face. "It was dark. He went to the right car. It's possible, that -"
Alan rushed in. "What about my boy?" He asked, trying to mask the fear that shone in his eyes.
Megan swallowed hard. "Alan -"
"They mistook Don for me. I was the intended target." Charlie jumped up. "They are going to kill Don the moment they find out he isn't ..." He broke off. Shoving Colby away, he rushed to the door, but Colby stopped him, an easy move for the experienced agent. Talking in a hushed voice, Colby explained what Megan already knew. Charlie had been the target. That changed everything. For one, they needed to keep it quiet and two, Charlie would need protection.
"Megan?" Alan asked again. He went over to Charlie and put his arms around him, providing and seeking comfort.
"They were after Charlie," Megan repeated.
"And?" Alan looked straight at her over Charlie's head. Megan felt the power of his questioning gaze.
"We're working on it." Never make a promise you can't keep.
"He's alive, right?"
Never make a promise you can't keep, she firmly told herself. Especially to someone you consider family. "We will find him."
Alan nodded. He had heard her. Loud and clear. Even the things she hadn't said.
Trembling, Charlie sat on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The black boards mocked him with their white numbers. Algorithms and calculation from a better time, a time when he had to grade tests and worry about the next paper he wanted to publish. A time when the worry about his brother was only an issue in the back of his mind. A problem he could carry like a blanket around his shoulder, always there but never too heavy.
Amita sat right next to him, consoling him by stroking his back and drawing small circles on it. But her movement was off and the resulting drawings would never result in a perfect circle. He cringed. Charlie didn't want her here but as he tried to send her away, Megan had intervened. His girlfriend was in as much danger from the relationship with him as his brother. His brother, the FBI agent, who carried a gun. Or should have carried a gun.
"Charlie?" David addressed him out of the many people running around. The room was full of FBI agents going over maps, lists and security camera tapes. But it was a big campus and Charlie had parked in an uncovered area. The cameras didn't help them.
"Anything new?" Using the opportunity, Charlie jumped up and away from Amita. He didn't want to be a danger to her.
David Sinclair, Afro-American FBI agent from the Bronx who had fought hard to join the FBI, who had calmly defused a bomb by trusting his own memory and providing the necessary backup to his brother, that calm and dedicated agent stood in the doorway to Charlie's office and hesitated before he answered. "No."
Charlie crumbled down.
"Charlie," David started again. "Maybe you can help us."
"I can't -" The math professor glanced up to his boards. "I can't help you. I don't-" Words failed him like numbers failed him. He wanted to get lost in the world of math, but not in the way it would help the FBI.
"It's about the call. Our technicians say they can't trace it as it was an IP call run over an anonymizing network. We can get the data through a court order. We just -" David had his phone in his hand, ready to call a judge the moment Charlie answered.
"Don't bother," Charlie interrupted him. "Even with all the data, it is impossible. An anonymizing network is designed to make it impossible to connect signals or to trace a signal to the origin of the call."
David exhaled while he slowly lowered his phone. "All right. Do you have any idea who could have targeted you? Did anybody contact you to ask you to consult or anything? Any protest group?"
Amita shook her head and Charlie followed her lead. "How could somebody take Don for me? We're nothing alike. We..." Charlie trailed off. Usually the gun and the way Don carried himself set them apart. But even without his gun and the weariness he had shown today, Don should have been able to make them pay for their mistake.
"How could somebody take Don, you really wanted to ask, right?" David crouched down in front of Charlie. "We're FBI agents. But we're also just human. I'm sure that Don didn't expect anything. He felt safe here and -"
"He had been hurt in the last arrest, right?" Charlie interrupted David. "He stumbled as I threw him the keys. Why didn't you call and said that -" Charlie flashed his eyes at David. If he had known that Don was hurt than he wouldn't have asked him to go to his car and none of this would have happened.
"He stumbled? You mean, he seemed strange to you?" David rose and his voice took on an urgent quality.
"Yes." Charlie underlined his answer by nodding. "After I threw him the keys to my car, which he failed to catch, he stumbled."
"Did he seem drunk to you?"
"He just took a sip of my coffee!" Charlie replied. "He wasn't drunk. He was just tired." Thinking about how Don stumbled out of his office, Charlie hesitated. "Really tired," he added.
"Charlie, this is important," David said. The urgency in his voice was mirrored by his body language and how he leaned forward. "Colby had found a witness who claimed to have seen you with two students, drunk. Could she have seen Don?"
"Don wasn't drunk!" Charlie repeated, furious on behalf of his brother and missing the implied charge that he could have been drunk on campus. "How can you-"
"Charlie! I'm not thinking drunk." David stopped him with a raised hand. "I'm thinking drugged. You said he drank some of your coffee? What coffee?"
"One of my students had brought it -" Charlie broke off as a terrifying thought crossed his mind.
"Where is the can now?" David asked.
Numb and terrified, Charlie rushed forward to his desk, right to the untouched can of coffee from an anonymous source.
Don was working on the rope that bound his zip-tied hands to a pipe. After he finally had started to retain a thought for longer than a second he had started to figure out a few things. Granted, he still couldn't remember what happened or where he was. Not even exactly why he was wherever he was, but he could remember four things. Harsh voice, soft voice, Horatio and Serena. And that he was tied to a pipe in a dark room. He assumed a cellar or steam tunnel.
Struggling to free himself, Don ground the cord against a bolt to fray the rope. He tried to be as silent as possible but somehow he had failed. Suddenly, the door opened. Again the light forced Don to shield his eyes, showing the damage he had already done to the rope.
"It's time for you to sleep a little longer. Your brother hasn't called it yet," Harsh voice said.
"I'd rather be awake, if it's all the same for you," Don snarled back. "And who are you?"
"Doesn't matter," Harsh voice said. Heavy steps neared and Don forced himself to lower his hands despite the feeling as if knifes were stabbed into his head and eyes. "Drink!" Harsh voice ordered but Don turned his head away.
"Fine, then I'll make you." A hand grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back.
"What are you doing!" another voice demanded.
With full force, Don's head was rammed against the wall. This time nausea wasn't needed for dry heaves to come. A bottle was pressed against his lips. Don didn't know if he should swallow, cough, puke or take a breath. But as another blow came, Don started to lose his cool. Suddenly, instincts overtook, and he fought for his life but somehow his body was refusing to be as useful as usually, resulting in a disarray of water in his mouth, coughing and blows all over his body. Something was wrong with him. But he had known that already.
From far away, or so it seemed, a female voice screeched. "Stop it! Stop it!" It sounded like a young woman screaming. Or maybe she just called out but in Don's ears he only heard a screeching. "Stop it. You're hurting him! You said you wouldn't hurt him!"
As Don slid down the wall unable to even bring up his hands to defend himself, he tried to remember that there was a girl. A girl, harsh voice, soft voice, Horatio and Serena. This was important to remember. Even if he didn't know why. But then the blackness swallowed him and carried him away into a painless void.
Megan watched Claudia, their ME, mixing a small drop of the coffee on a test strip. "If this turns blue," she said staring at the paper in front of her, "then the coffee was laced with GHB."
David had dusted the cup for prints but so far they had only been able to lift two prints, both most likely Don's from the position on the can. GHB, also known as the date rape drug, was easily to come by, hard to taste and a powerful drug.
Intently, they all stared at the test strip. "It's blue, right?" Megan asked as she detected the first bluish tint.
"Yes," Claudia nodded. "If it knocked Agent Eppes out, it has to be high dosed," she warned. "Dangerously high."
"But it would explain why Don could be taken," Charlie said.
For Megan the confirmation about used drugs were bad news, Charlie seemed to consider them good news.
Suddenly, a commotion at the closed door to Charlie's office, interrupted the discussion. David pushed Charlie behind the bookcase while Megan went to the door and poked her head out. A campus police officer blocked the door providing security and arguing loudly with Dr. Mildred Finch. As the head of the math department, Megan couldn't keep her away without getting more attention. For the same reason, she had not yet sent Charlie away, she had to allow Millie in. Megan signaled her agreement and Dr Mildred Finch rushed in.
Strangely, she just had eyes for Alan, ignoring the present FBI agents. "Oh, Alan, I just heard," Millie said and embraced him. "I'm so sorry."
They had tried to keep it quiet but the gossip factory was working overtime.
Amita followed by Charlie left their hiding spot but froze as they saw Alan in a tight embrace. But their hesitation was nothing compared to the shock on Dr. Finch's face.
Millie pushed Alan away and stared at her own professor as if she was seeing a ghost. "Charlie! What are you doing here? I thought -"
And suddenly, the pieces clicked together. The rumor mill was fast but not so fast. Dr. Finch knew about the abduction, but not through the grapevine.
Dr. Mildred Finch nervously played with her glasses. "I don't want to ruin a young life. If I talk to you -"
"Dr. Finch," Megan started, "I was young once too and I did my fair share of stupid things. But there is a difference between a schoolboy prank and the participation in the abduction and drugging of a federal agent."
"Millie," Alan interrupted. Megan had wanted to send them away, but Alan had been determined to stay and Megan wasn't willing to play hardball yet. "Please, tell me what you know."
"To tell you, what I know, I've come here," Millie said. "I just didn't know-" She pointed to the agents. Apparently, she hadn't realized that the FBI were already present on the campus.
"Millie, where's my brother?" Charlie added his own voice to the mix and Megan started to consider a more radical move.
"I don't know," Millie said. Then she took a deep breath. "One of my students called me to ask for help." She hesitated and stared at Megan. "They, and I don't know who they are, had the idea how to be heard more clearly, how to change the world. But then it got out of hand."
"What happened?"
"She told me that they wanted to grab Professor Eppes, keep him hidden for a few days and have his brother calling in a press conference. Charlie is a well-known and well-liked professor, it would have made big news. And if the FBI calls a press conference..." she trailed off. "But then," she glanced to Alan and her voice dropped to a whisper, "but then something happened. She didn't say what, but she was crying and said over and over again, that they had promised not to hurt him and-"
"Hurt him? You mean she called you because they hurt him?" Alan voiced faster and with more emotion Megan's own question at the startling revelation.
Millie straightened. "She couldn't make them stop. That's when she called me to asked for help what she could do."
"And?"
"Before I could answer or ask her anything, the line suddenly went dead," Millie said. "At first I wasn't sure if it was a joke, so I wanted to make sure ... before I would call the police and ruin a young life -"
"Who called you, Dr. Finch?"
Millie sighed deeply. The life of the student she would name would be destroyed. She looked to Larry, Amita and Charlie as if she wanted to make sure that she had the other teachers support that it was necessary to violate the trust of her student. But Charlie was still fighting with his anger while Amita shared Alan's pain. Only Larry seemed to think about the deeper issues.
"Please, Millie," Alan added and changed the tone of the conversation from an interrogation, from an intellectual discussion about trust and students' rights to a father who feared for his son's life. "Please."
Three and a half hours. He had last talked to his brother three and a half hour ago. And now, Megan, Colby, David and the campus police were already making an arrest after Millie had given them a name. Serena Dillons. At first, it only had been a name and then a face. As far as Charlie could remember, he had never had her as his student. Larry had finally been found and shocked as he was brought up to speed. Together with Larry, a lot of officers and his father, Charlie waited near the door to the student dorm. He was done with playing games and hiding. Something in the way he had told Megan this had made her relent.
"Where's my brother?" Charlie demanded the moment David led the young woman out of the door.
"We just wanted to change things," she said. Her dark hair framed a face that was still beautiful even as tears stream down.
"You could have organized a protest march or designed a campaign but not chosen violence," Charlie snarled.
"But nobody is listening to us." She leaned forward and David had to shift his grip. "Nothing changes. We tried and tried and tried it. But nobody is listening."
He stepped near, his hands balled into fists. "That doesn't give you the right to -"
"Charlie, that's enough," Megan said and David stepped between Serena and Charlie.
"Charlie, let Megan do her job," his father suddenly said and started to pull him away. "We have to wait."
Letting himself be dragged away, Charlie watched Colby and David escorting Serena away. She knew where his brother was, she had been worried enough to call Millie for help, and then she didn't say where they were keeping him. Charlie's fingertips left marks on his palms.
"Charlie," his father started again, "this is not the way."
"We don't have time to wait. Haven't you heard the FBI ME? There was entirely too much GHB in the coffee. They don't care if they kill him with their drugs."
"Charlie, I know. But you can't make her tell you."
"Then what. Are we just waiting?"
"As long as you're fixed on your anger you won't be able to see straight."
"I'm thinking about my brother. Not my anger."
"You think about your powerlessness to change things," Larry said, "and that makes you angry. It's normal but as we just have seen it's also the path to more destruction than fixing."
"Larry!" Charlie was losing his cool and patience for his friend.
"I merely suggest that you take your focus off the things you cannot control and onto the things you can control," Larry continued as if he hadn't seen Charlie's fury.
"What?"
"You cannot control that somebody took your brother. You cannot control when Ms. Dillons will share her knowledge. And while I have no doubt in Megan's ability to obtain all necessary information, this may take some time."
"Larry, we know that," Amita said playing peacemaker.
"But you still have a lot of resources you can use. You helped the FBI often enough with math in difficult situations."
"And how to -" Charlie paused.
"We could calculate a maximum range where they could have taken Don," Millie suggested. "We're talking about a short time frame and I don't think they used a car. If Serena was already back in her dorm, she couldn't have gone far."
"No," Charlie shook his head, "we can do better - one of them was a student. Serena would have known where the cameras are but there's no way to move across campus or leave it without ever being caught on tape."
"Right," Amita snapped her fingers, "but we can figure out what camera to check first."
"Yes, but we can still do better," Charlie said and hurried off, forcing the rest of his friends and family to run after him. "They're not only evading cameras but also people. If we figure out the routes across campus with the least probability to run into people, we just have to check a few cameras."
A few cameras, that would save them a lot of time.
Megan tilted her head until she could read the sign above the entrance. Hospital. And again, all of it had ended in the hospital. After Charlie and the other mathematicians had calculated the most probably routes around campus, it had been easy to check the tapes. But it had been a surprise to see where Don had been taken.
Up until now, she had associated steam tunnels with Larry's tendency to work in strange places. Now after a short night and lots of reports, she realized that Ron Silar, Horatio Cruz and Serena Dillons had had a smart plan including the planned sudden return of Charlie in midst of a press conference. But their impatience and overconfidence had been their downfall. Nothing had prepared the last two, Ron and Horatio, for a flash bang and two angry FBI agents rushing in. Colby and David had left them with no chance and had finished their mission just four hours after Don had been taken. They had been lucky, but they also had been smart.
She pulled out her cell and called Colby while she walked in. Colby had stayed the whole night with Don and the Eppes family at the hospital. From all primary interrogations and evidence, only three persons had been part of the plan, and they had all three of them in custody, but still nobody had argued and ADIC Wright had signed off the protection.
Following Colby's direction, Megan found the right area easily.
"Ah, coffee," Colby said in greeting and accepted the steaming hot cup Megan had bought just across the street.
"You're welcome." She took a sip of her own.
Colby stared across the floor to a curtained area. "To think that just a sip of coffee got us in this mess."
"How is he?"
"Doc says he's going to be fine. GHB only needs a few hours to leave the body. It's a good thing the kidnappers had thought him to be Charlie. They had held back in their attack and hitting, so the rest are just bruises that are going to heal on their own."
"Alan said as much on the phone last night." Megan paused. "But how is he?" she repeated her question.
Colby took a deep breath. "You know the funny videos on the internet?" He glanced at her. "About the kids that went to the dentist and then are stoned on the drive home?"
Slowly, Megan nodded. She had seen them. And yes, she also had laughed even if she hadn't wanted. She waited for Colby to finish.
"I always thought, it would be funny to see your boss drugged. To see Don drugged." Colby pushed the tip of his boot against the wall before he looked up. "But there's nothing funny about it. Nothing."
Taking another sip, Megan tried to prepare herself. If Colby couldn't find it in himself to make an inappropriate joke, it was bad.
Megan waited until the nurse had left, presumably to get the promised papers. Don played with the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing instead of the expected hospital gown. It had to be a new one as the old one had been stained. "Where are Alan and Charlie?"
"Sent them home, they were making me dizzy," Don said without looking up. It was a lie. Not the sending home part, but the explanation for it. "And if you're here for a report?" he asked and glanced to her out of the corner of his eyes. "I can save you some time - I don't remember anything. At all." Colby, Alan and Charlie had spent the whole night explaining the situation whenever Don had woken up until he finally had started to retain the information.
Megan nodded. "I assumed this much." Hesitating, she played with her hair. "Do you want to know something?"
"Colby explained everything." For a man who loved to be in control as much as Don did, this sentence alone had to hurt him.
"I know," Megan repeated. "But do you have questions?"
Don snorted. "How did it happen?"
"Well, you drank some drugged coffee that had been meant for Charlie. Additional you went to Charlie's car to get some papers for him. By the time you had reached the car, the drug had started to impair you heavily. It was easy to play the worried friends for Ron Silar and Horatio Cruz. They 'helped you' into the steam cellar of CalSci."
"Did they really take me for Charlie?"
"Until the end." The smile on her lips was a real one. "I think Ron Silar still believes this. Apparently, he had checked and you had proved to be Charlie, something about mental calculating?"
Don snorted. "That's possible. I know what to answer if asked a math question. It's just not the right answer." Shrugging, Don refused to elaborate his statement. "Can I borrow your phone?" Don suddenly asked instead.
"Sure. Why?"
"I need to get a hair cut."
Megan laughed out loud. "Why?"
"To make sure that I can't be mistaken for my brother ever again." He tilted his head and sighed. "But I guess, I'm glad that they got me and not Charlie."
That was a loaded statement, and Megan heard the emotion clearly. Time to change topics. "Serena, Ron and Horatio were a group of students who got disillusioned with their work on protesting for better climate protection. They wanted to be heard in a way it would change something."
"They wanted court proceedings and a mess?"
"No, they wanted to overcome their powerlessness." She said and carefully touched Don's shoulder. "The feeling of powerlessness is a dangerous emotion, especially if it leads to anger that overpowers rational thinking."
"Powerlessness," Don repeated and looked away.
"They won't leave prison for a long time." Megan could tell him about the long list of charges the ADA had thought off the top of his head. But Don wasn't interested in this, like the three hadn't been interested in all the progress their movement had already achieved. Things had happened outside their control, leaving them with the feeling of powerlessness.
As Megan stared at Don who still played with the sleeve of his shirt, she hoped that Don would find a better way to deal with powerlessness than Serena, Horatio and Ron had done because their way had been a way of destruction leading to more pain than healing.
And healing they would need.
END of Part One
A/N Thank you for reading. Part 2 is dealing with the aftermath. Posting starts next week.
2020-06-01 Fixed a few SPaG issues. Thank you VST!
2020-06-16 / 2020-06-19 Fixed some more SPaG issues. Thank you MagpieTales!