A/N: Sorry for the delay. RL got a little crazy. The updates should be back to a couple of times a week. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

"I said no, Professor."

Charlie bit back a frustrated sigh and struggled to keep his voice calm. "Grayson, we have to go to the FBI. Your brother has crossed so many lines and kidnapping Don, hurting him… that has to be it. He's out of control."

"No," the younger man shot back. "He's scared. Deep down inside he's terrified of going back to prison. All I have to do is talk to him, convince him that the money is really gone and then I can agree to go away with him. He'll let your brother go for sure."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You don't know him like I do." Grayson eyed Charlie and cocked his head. "What if it was your brother on the run? You're honestly telling me you wouldn't do everything in your power to help him? Because I find that very hard to believe."

"I know what it's like to be scared for your older brother, I really do. And I understand the desire to help him, Grayson. But in this particular case it would be more helpful if we called the authorities and sent him back to prison." The younger man grew angry and Charlie quickly waved his hands to cut him off. "Listen to me – if he goes back he will have to do extra time, but look at how much good behavior he'd earned before he ran. He could still be out before he's too old and you'd have plenty of time to get settled into your life so you could work on helping him with his. You know I'm right."

The student shook his head as he paced along the wall of the storage building. "No. Sometimes… sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your family. Do you know how many bullies Sammy pried off of me when I was a kid? I've owed him so much for all of these years."

Charlie swallowed back a sudden feeling of remorse as Grayson's words triggered his own childhood memories. Don had always looked out for him, too, no matter what the cost to himself. And sacrifices… he suspected Don really knew the meaning of that word no matter how many times he insisted his childhood hadn't been that bad.

"No, Professor. We're going to see Sammy – just the two of us. I'll talk to him and we'll get your brother out of this."

"You have such a promising future, Grayson. I don't want to see you throw it away."

"I'm not throwing it away – I'm helping my brother."

Charlie decided to try one last time. "We can help Sammy – and Don – by calling the FBI. They can get Don out safely…" he choked on the word as his brother's bloody image flashed in his mind, "… and Sammy, too. Please, Grayson."

"No. We go together, Professor." He smiled weakly and patted Charlie's shoulder. "I won't let him hurt you or your brother any more." As he opened his mouth to protest, Grayson sighed and waved the gun in his direction. "You know… I'm not really asking."

Charlie finally let out the sigh he'd been holding back. "Right." I tried, Don, I really did. I just hope this works out better than I think it's going to.

--

I really have to stop waking up like this, Don groaned to himself as consciousness returned with a vengeance. On the bright side, he was less aware of the minor discomfort in his arms and cramped muscles. Of course that was because the ache in his head had become so bad that everything else in the world – sight and sound included – was drowned out by the angry throbbing in his skull. He concentrated, trying to remember what was going on. He and Coop… Sammy got the drop on them and took him… What else was there? Something urgent, something he should really be concerned about. As the memories danced tantalizingly out of reach, Don instinctively shook his head to clear the fog and soon found himself pressing his face against the cool surface of the cement floor, praying he wouldn't pass out again. Dumb, stupid move, Eppes. Head wounds and moving do not mix.

After an eternity he felt relatively confident he could remain awake and slowly peeled his eyes open. A dark, dismal blur greeted him and despite his best efforts he couldn't make out anything in his vicinity. He started to call out for help, frowning at the foul taste in his mouth. What the…? A vague memory of Sammy wrenching his head back him drifted out of the depths of his hazy mind and Don worked his jaw, wincing when the tape sealing the rag inside his mouth tugged at his skin. Right, he gagged me. Why, though? There was a reason. He said… what?

Don growled in frustration as his memory refused to cooperate. Okay, forget that. I need to focus on how to get out of this. Let's see… I'm handcuffed, disoriented, gagged and being held captive God knows where, apparently all by myself. He clenched his fists and yanked at the cuffs, a pointless effort, he knew, but there was always a chance his kidnapper had used a pair made of rusted, brittle metal. Now you're really grasping at straws, he chided mentally. He slowly craned his head to look around the room but had to stop several times to combat the nausea that hovered on the horizon, knowing that throwing up into a gag with no one around to hear or help would be a fatal mistake. Once he'd confirmed the fact he was, indeed, alone, Don laid his head back on the cool floor and tried to get his sluggish mind to work.

After a few moments of attempting to string together a coherent plan, Don had to admit defeat. The head injury was wreaking havoc on his cognitive thinking and-

Oh my God – Charlie! He said he was luring Grayson and Charlie here! That sudden memory – and the fear that accompanied it – sped up Don's heart rate and he renewed his struggles against the metal encircling his wrists. No… I can't let him get Charlie. I have to do something. Realizing that escaping from the handcuffs was a futile effort, Don decided he should try and stand up so he could examine the room and any opportunities for escape more closely. Taking a few deep breaths, he painfully rolled over onto his stomach and wriggled his knees beneath him.

Doing good, Eppes. Now, slowly – up… Pressing his forehead to the floor, Don levered his torso off of his knees and managed to convince his head to stay attached to his body and follow suit. After agonizingly slow progress he was kneeling on the floor, panting heavily and swaying back and forth unsteadily. Not too bad for a guy with a head wound. Now let's see what you're really made of. One leg up… The injured agent moved his left foot out from underneath him and leaned his weight forward, making sure the limb would support him. Confident in his findings, Don started to push up but quickly stopped when he heard a noise behind him. He swung his head around and closed his eyes against the vertigo that assaulted him, but not before he made out a large silhouette bearing down on him.

"My, my… aren't we a resourceful little agent?"

Even over the roar in his ears Don recognized Sammy's voice and his heart sank. There was no way he could take the fugitive in his state and the knowledge that his weakness might lead to his brother's harm brought tears to Don's eyes. In a last-ditch effort to save Charlie, Don pleaded into his gag and frowned as Sammy laughed at his unintelligible mumble and then moved toward the agent, shoving him hard onto his back. Don's head connected with the concrete loud enough to echo in the open room and he blinked furiously, trying to clear the stars from his vision.

"You know," Sammy said as he dragged Don further into the darkened room. "At this rate you may not last long enough to see your brother again." The fugitive stopped as he reached the far wall, shoving Don to lie on his stomach and yanking his arms up until the agent screamed into the gag, certain his shoulders had been ripped from their sockets. The pressure eased fractionally as Sammy let go and stepped back to study him carefully. "That ought to keep you in place until our visitors arrive. It really would be a shame for you to miss the chance to tell your brother goodbye." Sammy gave a cheery wave, humming to himself as he left the agent alone in the dark.

Don cautiously lifted his head and peered behind him as far as he dared before the movement made the ache in his arms intensify. From his awkward angle he could just make out some sort of hook or bent nail in the wall over which Sammy had draped the chain between his handcuffs. Although he was grateful to be lying down – otherwise his shoulders would no doubt be dislocated – he knew that even whole and healthy, standing up to remove the chain and free his arms would have been a daunting task. In his current condition it would be impossible. Charlie was probably on his way and that thought gave Don the will to try despite the slim chance of success. He valiantly struggled against his restraints until a combination of fatigue and pain finally wore him down, pulling him into a blissful respite from his personal hell.

--

Charlie nervously watched the scenery pass by as Grayson piloted the car along a desolate pothole-filled road. Maybe 'scenery' wasn't the right word for the landscape they traveled through – full of condemned old houses, overgrown lots and a couple of small, run-down warehouses that sat vacant, seemingly inviting anyone and everyone with an appetite for trouble and illegal enterprise. Much to Charlie's surprise, he and Grayson seemed to be the only two people for miles – excluding the numerous corpses he was certain were concealed in the overgrown lots – except for Don and Sammy who were hopefully hidden away somewhere nearby, both alive and well.

Charlie glanced over at Grayson and sighed as he saw the fierce look of determination on his face. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to call his student's bluff and call Don's team to conduct an organized and likely more successful rescue of his older brother. He was almost positive Grayson wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. Too late now, he thought bitterly. No way I can jump out of the car when we're going this fast. Besides, if I did that there's no telling what would happen to Don when Grayson finds Sammy. No – I'm definitely along for the ride at this point.

Charlie closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool glass, issuing up another silent prayer that everyone would make it out of this situation and live to tell the tale. He harbored no warm feelings toward Sammy, obviously, but he did care for his student and knew Grayson would be distraught if anything happened to the older Holloway, so Charlie had made sure to include him in every prayer he'd uttered in the last two hours.

"It looks worse than it is."

The professor was drawn from his thoughts by Grayson's voice. "What does?"

"Your brother's injury. Head wounds bleed a lot, you know."

"Yes, but how long has Don been bleeding? Has it stopped? Is there any serious brain injury to go along with that blood? I'm sorry, Grayson, but I won't relax until I see him."

"Of course not," the student agreed in an understanding voice. "I was just trying to point out the bright side."

Weird definition of 'bright side'. Charlie chose to keep that thought to himself. "How much longer?"

"I've never actually been out here before," Grayson admitted. "But from the directions he gave me… maybe another five minutes? Not too long at all."

Unless you're lying in a pool of your own blood… Charlie shivered as his brother's bloody image rose up from the back of his mind. He shook his head to clear it and focused on the road ahead. "Grayson, you know I'm very fond of you and trust you a great deal…"

"Right."

"So don't take this the wrong way, but – how do you know Sammy will let us go?"

"He wants two things, Professor. The money from the robbery and me. He'll be getting one of those things and I can explain how the other isn't a possibility." Grayson looked away from the road long enough to smile at Charlie. "It'll be okay."

Young and hopeful, Charlie thought sadly. And naïve as can be. "You'll need money to get… wherever."

"Mexico, most likely."

"You have enough money?"

"I have a savings account with a little in it."

Charlie sighed. "You realize the FBI has probably frozen that account? Especially if they know Don's been kidnapped?"

"We'll figure something out," the student shot back testily. "I told you, I'm not letting him go back to jail."

"What if he tells you he wants to rob another bank to get funded? Or a convenience store? What then, Grayson?"

"What do you care? You'll have your brother back by then."

"Don is important to me – more important than anything else – but I care about you, too."

"You have to make a choice, Professor," Grayson replied, looking like he'd aged twenty years since Charlie first saw him at the pier. "You want to take care of me or your brother?"

"Grayson-"

"Your brother," he quickly cut him off. "You worry about him. Me? I'm willing to give up what I want to help Sammy." He glanced at Charlie and shrugged. "Don't tell me you didn't know growing up that one day you might have to make a sacrifice to pay your big brother back for everything he did for you."

"I guess I knew it could be a possibility," Charlie agreed. "But a sacrifice as big as the one you're making? I don't know about that."

Grayson gave him one last smile as he brought the car to a stop. "And I hope you never do." He pointed at a building just visible through the trees. "That's it."

"Why stop all the way back here?" When Grayson didn't answer, Charlie frowned. "You don't trust him to let us go, do you?"

"I believe in taking precautions."

"No, Grayson," the genius argued. "We have to call the FBI. If you don't even trust him then we have no business being here by ourselves."

"No FBI," the younger man stated. "We do this ourselves. Now just follow me and do exactly what I do. With any luck, we'll find your brother and you two will be long gone before I have to break the bad news to Sammy."

"Grayson-"

"No arguments, Professor." He pulled the gun from his waistband and gestured to the passenger-side door. "Let's go."

TBC