Don climbed off the hospital elevator and made a stop at the nurse's station. "Billy Cooper?" he inquired of a heavyset, gray-haired nurse.

"Room 462," she said, barely looking up from her computer.

Don nodded his thanks and started off down the hallway, smiling as he dodged an elderly patient in a wheelchair. He arrived at the room prepared to knock but found the door thrown wide open, his friend perched on the edge of the bed and staring at the door.

"About time," Coop said by way of greeting. "You really drive that slow now that you're settled down?"

"Hey," Don said with a teasing grin. "Most people you know would just leave your sorry butt in here. See what a good friend I am?"

"Good friend," Coop snorted. "I just have enough dirt on you that you have to come."

"Whatever." Don leaned over and gave the man a brief hug, careful of his injured shoulder. "Seriously, you doing okay?"

"Just a scratch."

"They give slings out for scratches now?"

"You going all mother hen on me? Settled life must really agree with you."

"It does," Don nodded. "I wouldn't trade this for the world."

"I'm glad for you, man. I really am. I do miss being on the road with you, though."

"Is that why you came out to LA? Because you didn't have to get yourself shot just to see me."

"You always were a comedian," Billy said as he shook his head. "I was trailing a fugitive – Sammy Holloway, or 'Sammy the Snake' as he's known to his friends."

"What's his racket?"

"Minor-league stuff growing up. Then he turned nineteen and got in way over his head – namely robbing a bank back in Missouri. He and his friend hit them up right before the courier arrived and got away with one hundred large." Coop shifted his arm, wincing at the pull on his injured joint. "Their getaway car was parked a few feet away from the ATM so the Feds got make, model, color and a partial plate. Easy as pie to track him down and arrest him. Of course, when they got there he and his friend didn't have the money. They were convicted anyway and sentenced to ten years in the Federal penitentiary in Springfield."

"I take it that didn't sit too well?"

"It sat just fine for six years until Holloway's friend got shanked in prison. I guess Sammy thought that time off for good behavior wouldn't do anything for him if he was dead. He managed to sweet talk a nurse into saying he needed major treatment for a malignant tumor and next thing you know, he's slipping out of the hospital and back in the throngs of decent society."

"And he came here?" Don asked.

"Yeah. See he had this younger brother – Grayson – who the feds long suspected had a part in the robbery. They were pretty sure he was in the getaway car but the ATM footage was too fuzzy to verify that. Even if he wasn't involved in the robbery itself, it was almost a given that Sammy had him hide the cash."

"So Sammy gets out and wants his money," Don mused aloud. "Has to find his brother."

"Who, it just so happens, is a student at a college here in southern California. Once I found that out I got here as quickly as I could to set up shop and wait."

"Looks like he found you first," Don remarked dryly.

"Might have been Sammy who shot me but I was trailing Grayson. I followed him to an alley and lost him and next thing I know…" Coop nodded at his shoulder. "Little brother may know big brother's coming – be looking forward to the reunion."

"Definite possibility," Don agreed. His old partner shifted on the bed, wincing again but this time with a guilty look on his face. "What?"

"You're going to hate me for this, man, but…" The redhead looked up and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "Grayson Holloway is a student at CalSci."

"CalSci?" the other agent echoed, dumbfounded. "Why didn't you call me? Charlie could have-"

"He's a promising math major at CalSci."

"What?"

"His advisor is one Professor Charles Eppes," Coop hurried the words from his mouth. "That's whose office he was in before I trailed him away from campus."

"Damn it, Coop! What the hell were you thinking?" Don stormed away from his friend's side, only to turn and rush back toward him. "My brother was in danger and you didn't bother to let me know? For God's sake, Coop – Charlie could have helped you!"

"I didn't think that was a great idea," the injured man quietly stated.

"Why on earth not?"

"Back when we were working together, remember how you talked about Charlie? You said he was always there for his students, no matter what. That he'd do anything for them. Said you'd never seen him that loyal to anyone… not even his brother." Coop fixed his friend with a pointed look until Don finally stepped back and shook his head.

Don tucked the bad memories that his former partner's words brought up back into their box, not wanting to relive the jealous thoughts he'd had all those years ago. "Charlie would never knowingly help a fugitive," he insisted. "Or obstruct an investigation."

"Maybe he wouldn't," Billy said. "But I couldn't take that chance."

"And now?" Don demanded. "If Grayson was anywhere nearby when you got shot – or if he's the one who pulled the trigger – he's probably gone into hiding. Especially if he knows his big brother's looking for him."

"I know," Coop reluctantly admitted. "My job just got a whole lot harder."

"Maybe not," Don suggested quietly. "Let me talk to Charlie – ask him what he knows about his student." Seeing the look of hesitance on his friend's face, he gave a shrug. "Holloway's probably gone to ground by now – what harm could it do to talk to Charlie?"

Billy nodded as he stood up from the bed. "Fine. Just let me get my things."

"No." Don placed a hand on his friend's good shoulder and pressed him back down. "You need to rest. Besides, I'd rather you not talk to Charlie given how you think of him."

"Fair enough. But I expect to hear everything you find out."

"Deal," Don said, pasting a small smile on his face. "I'll be back in a while."

--

Charlie's hand flew across his chalkboard, the sounds of his writing oddly in tune with the sounds emitting from his iPod. It was a good day for cognitive emergence and he intended to capture every last idea that had manifested itself in his brain. He'd been at it for hours – the five full boards around him a testament to his work – when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him so badly that he broke the chalk as he whipped around.

"Don!" he cried, part relieved and part angry. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I did!" Don yelled as he yanked the wires leading to his brother's ears. "Maybe you shouldn't have the volume so loud, huh?"

Charlie blushed as he realized he could still hear the music blaring from his iPod even though his earbuds were dangling at waist level. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"No problem."

He turned the power off and tucked the device into his desk drawer before focusing on Don. "So, what's up? Need help on a case?"

"Sort of. I mean, yeah, but…" Don shook his head in frustration. "What I need from you is personal, Buddy."

"I don't understand."

Don sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he gestured for his brother to sit. "I need to ask you about one of your students."

"You think one of my students is involved in something?"

The agent leaned against the desk and shook his head. "Don't jump to conclusions on me, Charlie. Just humor me and answer my questions one at a time."

"Fine," Charlie said, his expression slightly wounded.

"Grayson Holloway – how well do you know him?"

"He's one of my best students," the professor bragged. "Top in his class, a real understanding of how it all works. Brilliant mind."

"Personal life?"

"To be honest he doesn't talk about that much. I know he's from the Midwest somewhere. He came here to learn but I suspect home life wasn't a picnic for him." Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking about him?"

"One at a time," Don reminded the younger man. "Has he started acting strangely lately?"

"Not at all. In fact he has a better head on his shoulders than any other student I've seen. It's like he's already outgrown those annoying 'young adult' growing pains."

"Has he ever mentioned his past at all? Family, friends?"

Charlie shook his head and gave Don a puzzled look. "Like I said – he doesn't talk much about his past. Really, Don – what's this all about?"

"How's his lifestyle – does he ever seem to be living beyond his means?"

"He works a full time and part time job in addition to classes," the professor informed his brother, his patience at the other man's deliberate vagueness starting to wear thin. "And he still wears threadbare clothes and brings his lunch to school."

"School," Don repeated thoughtfully. "How does he afford to attend CalSci?"

"He's on scholarship," Charlie angrily spat. "Look, I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me what's going on."

"Charlie-"

"I mean it, Don." Sensing that the older man wasn't going to give an explanation, Charlie started to turn to his chalkboard.

"His brother's an escaped fugitive."

The professor whipped around, his eyebrows raised. "He's a… are you sure?"

"Yes. His name is Sammy Holloway and we're pretty sure he's headed this way."

"Wait a minute… you don't work fugitive recovery any more. Why are you involved?"

"One of the Holloway brothers – we don't know which – put a bullet in Coop the other night."

"Oh my God," Charlie whispered. "Is he all right?"

"He's going to be fine," Don assured the younger man. "He was shot about three blocks away from here – following Grayson home after a late-night meeting with you."

"What? Why didn't you tell me you were watching him?"

"I didn't know-"

"If you could trust me to keep my mouth shut," Charlie cut him off, fury blazing in his brown eyes. "You thought I'd let something spill? For God's sake – I have top security clearance!"

"Charlie, listen to me-"

"I've listened to you about all I can stand," the professor hissed. "I don't really want to hear anything you have to say."

Don threw up his hands in frustration and shook his head. "Maybe Coop was right after all."

"What's that mean?"

"He said he didn't come to you because he didn't think you would be very helpful."

"And your excuse?"

"You know what? That's not even important right now." He leaned forward until his face was inches from his brother's. "Like it or not you need to listen to me very carefully. If Grayson is involved he's probably on the run already but there is a chance that he might want to talk to you before he leaves."

"About?"

"I don't know, Charlie. He's your student – not mine. But if he does try to contact you, I expect you to let me know and not to let him know we had this conversation. Am I making myself clear?"

"I'm not an idiot, Don."

"I'm well aware of that," the agent shot back, the hurt in his voice almost enough to make Charlie feel guilty for the harshness of his words. "I'll be working on this case with Coop until we get Sammy or he leaves the LA area. I'd prefer that you work from home the next couple of days but I know you won't so you'd better get used to the fact that there will be an agent posted around campus."

"Agent?"

"Yes, Charlie. I'm not going to let some punk kid or his brother get close enough to you to hurt you."

"Grayson would never-"

"I don't know that for sure. Besides, Sammy shot a Federal agent so I'm pretty sure he'd have no problem shooting a math professor."

Charlie swallowed nervously and – despite his frustration toward Don's attitude – looked into his big brother's eyes, drawing comfort from the fierce determination he saw there. "Thanks, Don."

"Anytime," Don replied as he started to leave the office. He paused at the last minute and turned to look over his shoulder. "For the record… I didn't know about this until this morning. I would have come to you right away, Charlie." Almost as an afterthought he added "You should know that." He disappeared from the doorway, leaving Charlie alone in his office to wonder just how big a rift he'd created between himself and his brother.

TBC