- - - - -

"Bad news, Jim." Don sat on the edge of the table, leaning over the young man for effect. "We cracked your code." Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, figured you'd feel that way. I mean- the key for it's just a Google search away. But see, here's where the bad news comes in: We have a piece of paper that connects you to that bombing at CalSci."

"If you're about to tell me that you've got just cause to keep me here now, you've got another thing commin', Agent," Jim said scathingly, spitting the title like an insult. "Look, I'm pre-law. I know you can't keep me here for more than-"

"You mean you were pre-law, Jim." Don stood up and paced behind Jim's chair. "You are a young man on the cusp of making something out of your life. You work with us, tell us what you know and what your friends know, you may still get a diploma. I'll tell you this, though." He put a hand on the table and met Jim's cold eyes. "Kids with criminal records don't pass the bar."

Something shuddered ever so slightly in Jim's countenance, and then he seemed to completely freeze over, his face a mask of indifference. He looked away. "Whatever, man."

Don shook his head, amplifying his amazement. "I just don't get it, Jim. You're a straight-A student, you go to UCLA, you're both talented and intelligent. Why this allegiance to some reprobate moron? What, do you have this idea that he's a criminal mastermind, because if you do you're diluting yourself. He's an idiot who threw away his education for a life of crime, is that what you want to look like, Jim? Is that who you want to be?"

Jim shook his head slowly. "You don't know me." He looked up at Don, furious. "What, you think that a good education makes my life perfect? Now who's diluted."

Don thought that over. "Listen, Jim." He sat on the table again and Jim stiffened in his seat. "I know what that looks like. Being exceptional, it comes with its own demons."

Jim looked livid. "Don't you dare assume that just because you've got a smart brother that you're an expert on me or anybody like me. You have no idea who I even am."

"All right, sure. Let's talk about my brother. I'd like to know why you were carrying around a piece of paper with his name written on it in ASCII. Wanna explain that to me?" He looked away. "Was it instructions? A message to target the Blaise Pascal lecture hall? Who were you after, Jim?" Still he didn't reply. Don sat down in a chair to Jim's left, staring unblinkingly at him for a little while.

"Jim. Several hundred people could have died in that bomb, you hear me? You could have been a murderer."

Jim's voice dropped dangerously low and he looked angrily back at Don. "I'd kill a billion before I'd tell you anything. Ever." He sat back, ears shut, eyes glassy. Completely closed off.

The door opened suddenly and Colby poked his head in. "Don. Kyle's broken wide open."

Don nodded. "Okay, I'm coming." He looked at Jim to see how he'd react, but he continued to stare blankly ahead. Don gave him a 'your funeral' expression, and left the room.

- - - - -

Don was going towards Room 2 at a steady clip when his phone went off. He stopped, telling Colby to go on without him and flipped the phone open. "Eppes."

"Don, it's Charlie."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I was just wondering if you got that message decoded. If there's an error in my analysis, I'll need to start drafting-"

"Right, sorry. Yeah, it decoded perfectly. They sent it up from Code Breaking fifteen minutes ago."

"So it was ASCII?"

"Yeah." He heard Charlie sigh on the other end. "What?"

"It just…doesn't really fit my diagram of them, this juvenile attempt at being cool. It's not consistent."

"The important thing is we've got the message and that gives us an advantage. Don't worry about it."

"I guess. So was the message helpful?" Don tried to think of how to respond. "Don?"

"Yeah. Look, I gotta go. We've got one of the boys confessing."

"Really? Oh, uh…hey, don't let me keep you."

"I'll talk to you later."

- - - - -

Kyle, pale and shaky, had his head buried in his hands. Megan was sitting close to him, squeezing his shoulder. "I didn't know," Kyle insisted tearfully, "I didn't know we were going to blow up a whole building till we got the note."

"Is that what the message about professor Eppes was about?" Megan asked quietly. "To direct you to the Blaise Pascal lecture hall?" He nodded. "Kyle…did you and your friends attack the grocery store and the Cajun restaurant too?"

What color there was in Kyle's face drained. "No! No, that was some of his other guys."

"Whose other guys?" Kyle bit his lip, shaking his head and saying nothing. "Kyle, listen to me. We can keep you safe if you help us out. But you've got to tell us: Who led your gang?"

Kyle swallowed hard. "Jackson Greer and his brother."

In the observation room, Don cast a sideways glance at Colby whose face showed the same bewilderment. "His brother?" Megan asked, leaning closer to Kyle. "What was his name?"

"I don't know. We just called him TJ."

- - - - -

"Nothing about this came up in our background search. I want all the files pulled back up, just in case." Don started rummaging around the piles of folders and papers. "Where is…where's the information on Jackson and TJ's family history?"

"I got it," David said quickly, running back from his desk with a folder over his head. He and Don flipped through the stack, giving each page a cursory glance. Finally David pulled up one page in particular. "Here we go, TJ was born in LA…parents Greg and Marcia Pullman, they now live in San Jose."

Megan began reading aloud from her computer screen. "Jackson Greer's parents, Andrew and Vanessa Greer, died in 1988 when Jackson was fourteen. He was put into the foster care system and transferred to California."

"Yeah, when he was fifteen. We got all this information for Charlie's diagram. Did we ever find out who his new parents were?"

"Charlie wanted that information, but the records were sealed so he let it slide."

"Any chance we can get them unsealed?"

Megan gave him a smile, picking up the phone and dialing. "We can absolutely try."

- - - - -

"Where'd he get the note, Kyle?"

"From TJ, probably. He's the guy who did the encoding."

Colby folded his hands on the tabletop. "Is there going to be another bomb?"

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know. You gotta believe me, man, I'm not sure."

"Okay," Colby said in that calculating tone he'd picked up from Don and had now perfected. "How is TJ getting these notes to you?"

"He throws them out, they end up in dumpster in an alley."

"At the LA county state prison?"

"No, they take the trash somewhere else to prevent this kind of thing, but we figured it out."

Colby slid a piece of paper and a pencil across the table, giving Kyle an encouraging nod. "I need an address, Kyle."

- - - - -

Megan hung up her phone and stood up, notepad in hand. "Anyone care to guess the sweet couple who adopted 15-year-old Jackson Greer?" Don's heart skipped a beat as she waved the notes at him. "Greg and Marcia Pullman."

"So that clinches it, they're working together." David shook his head. "They've been playing us, the both of them."

"All right, I'm giving Charlie a call, he'll want to reassess his algorithm with this information." Don took his coat off, making his way to Megan's phone, when Colby ran up.

"The trash from the LA County prison is sent to a collections dumpster at 800 North Alameda Street."

"North Alameda…" Don thought. "That's the Amtrak station." He put his coat back on. "Let's go look in those dumpsters."

- - - - -

David swung his gun around the corner, but the alley was deserted. "Clear!" he called and Colby and Don came down the alley. Don stopped mid-way while Colby went to the end, checking around both corners.

"All clear!" he shouted.

Don went to the dumpsters sizing them up. "Three dumpsters, three guys."

"Great," Colby groaned, jogging up to them. "You know, this is why I didn't join the CIA. I heard they did crazy things like digging around in dumpsters for clues."

Don hopped onto the ledge of the centermost dumpster. "Look for anything that looks like it could be from the prison, guys. Let's hope they didn't bury it too much."

They dug around in the garbage for at least an hour before they'd found something definitely from the prison; an old janitor's uniform. "Okay, keep looking in this one," Don told them, jumping down with the uniform. He rifled through the pockets and found nothing. Then he stopped. "Wait, guys!" They jumped down and came to stand over his shoulder.

Don pulled back the fold of the collar and sure enough, rolled up inside it was a piece of paper. He unrolled it. David nodded, a note of grim satisfaction in his voice. "0's and 1's."

"Oh, it's ASCII again all right." Don tossed the uniform to Colby and folded up the page. "Let's go."

- - - - -

"I sent a team back to the alley to search the rest of the dumpsters," David said, striding up to Don. "I doubt they'll find much, but I figure just in case."

"Good." Don glanced up as Colby, too, came running up. "Did you send the uniform down to Forensics?"

Colby nodded. Megan grinned up at him. "Heard you guys got the fun job today, Granger." He sat down and chucked a balled up piece of paper at her which hit the computer instead.

"Okay." Don took the ball of paper and tossed it into the trash. "Kyle's information was legit, so for the sake of argument we're going to believe the rest of what he said. Megan, I need you take down his official statement, including any information you can get out of him about his friends. Ken Dryger and Jim Blake still aren't talking, but they may change their minds if they run out of options."

They were about to disperse when someone else came running towards them. "Agent Eppes!"

Don stood. "Bob, what's up?" Bob held out a sheet of paper and Don took it, curiosity mounting. His eyes flicked down the page. He stopped.

David, who'd been leaning against the desk, stood up straight. "What?"

Don started shaking his head. "No…no no no-" He snatched up his coat, pointing to David. "Call it in, I need a team over there five minutes ago."

"Don, what is it?" Megan got out of her chair and tried to assist him as he frantically strapped his vest on.

David picked up the sheet of paper, read it once, then tossed it back onto the table and grabbed the phone. "This Agent Sinclair, FBI. I need a team sent to 2042 Coblestone Drive, Los Angeles…Yes, that's the Highland Park area."

"We'll suit up," Megan said, but Don was all ready shaking his head.

"I can't wait that long, I'll call for backup if I need it."

"Cobblestone Drive?" Colby shook his head, clearly at a loss.

Don, his fear manifesting in irritation, checked his guns and shoved the sheet of paper at Colby. "Highland Park, Colby. My old house, Charlie's house!" He took off down the hall at a run, shouting over his shoulder, "They're after Charlie!"

- - - - -

"Dad, I'm home!" Charlie slammed the door behind him and went to the entryway table, setting the armload of groceries there. "Mr. Kroger wasn't there today. Came down with that fever I had. I actually saw him the other day…we were talking about…" He paused, hands hovering over the grocery bags then pressed his palms to the tabletop. "This is going to sound crazy, but uh…remember when I was ten and that kid, Travis Roberns-" Charlie turned around and all thought of Travis and the fifth grade disappeared.

The living room was a disaster. Chairs were turned over, pillows shredded, the carpet was coated in books, paper and cotton stuffing. Charlie moved in a daze through the room, barely registering what he saw. The curtains were ripped and in the hallway, many of the pictures had been torn off the wall. Broken glass littered the wood floor.

"Dad…" Charlie whispered. His adrenaline rose at the sound of his own voice and he took off down the hallway. "Dad!"

He ran upstairs, and the rooms up there weren't nearly as bad as the living room, though his room had clearly been particularly tossed. He pounded back down the stairs, through the dining room, and down to the basement. He reached the bottom and stopped, bracing himself on the doorway. Chalk littered the floor, most of his blackboards were broken, and the ones that weren't had nonsensical scribbling all over them. His heart sank at the sight of his cognitive emergence theory was in ruins, but other thoughts were still blaring through his bewildered mind.

He tore from the basement, new reserves of panic pushing him. "Dad!" He shouted, suddenly realizing he hadn't checked to make sure his dad's car was out front when he arrived. But where would he have gone? When Charlie left for the grocery store, Alan had told him he had no plans for the afternoon. He had to be here!

"Dad, where are you?! Dad!" Charlie ran back upstairs, double-checking the bedrooms, bathrooms, closets. He was rummaging through the toppled furniture in the living room when the kitchen door slammed. He barley noticed and continued checking under anything big enough to hide a body.

"Charlie!" Don's voice was loud and urgent. Charlie couldn't make himself reply, he just kept digging. "Charlie, answer me! Calling in, this is Agent Eppes, I'm at the house. It's been ransacked, repeat, the house has been targeted. What's your ETA?" The crackling sound of a response came but Charlie didn't hear it. "Copy. Charlie, where are you? Answer me, buddy."

Don's footsteps thudded through the kitchen and into the dining room. Charlie hauled the couch over and Don must have heard it, because he came running into the living room moments later. When Charlie stood up he saw his brother standing in the doorway, gun extended.

"Charlie," Don breathed, his gun falling limply to his side. He crossed the room, but Charlie turned away, grabbing the shredded remains of the curtains and hauling them off the rug. "Woah, hey…" Don grabbed his shoulders.

"I can't find him, I can't-"

Don turned him around, checking him for injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt-"

"No! I can't find Dad!" Charlie insisted, trying to brush him off. He got onto his hands and knees and started digging around again.

Don got down next to him. "Hey, slow down there, bro. His car wasn't in the drive." Charlie sat on his heals, hair in his face. "Yeah." Don tried to smile encouragingly, but it seemed kind of pointless in this setting. "C'mon, let's get you up."

The two of them stood, Charlie still too stunned to say much. "You sure you're okay?" Don asked, squeezing his shoulder.

"Yeah, I…" He pointed shakily to door. "I came in the front, I was at the grocery store, and it was just…the house was like this and I started looking for Dad."

"He left a note on the fridge, said he decided to practice his swing down at the club while the weather was good."

Charlie shook his head, uncomprehending. "He's not…he isn't home."

"No, hey, come here." Don directed him into the dining room which was a little less of a disaster and pushed him into the one chair that hadn't been turned over. Sirens screamed in the distance and Don gave him raised eyebrows. "LAPD. Good timing, huh?"

"Who needs 911 when you've got a fed in the family?" Charlie joked weakly.

Don smiled at him and hit the switch on his wrist-mic. "This is Agent Eppes, subject is secure. Requesting clean-up team. Proceed as instructed."

"Copy that, Agent Eppes, we are on location now."

"Copy." Don knelt in front of Charlie who was staring into space. "Listen, I'm going to give Dad a call so he doesn't have a heart-attack when he gets back, kay?"

"You won't be able to get a hold of him. No phones on the course."

"Oh right…well I'll wait a bit. You need anything?"

But Charlie wasn't going to be so easily distracted. "Don…why? Why'd they…they targeted this house." His voice shook a little and he sat up straight, meeting Don's eyes coolly. "They're after me, aren't they." It wasn't a question. "They wrote a note on my ceiling."

"Yeah?" Don pulled up another chair and sat in front of his brother. "What'd it say?"

"What all the other notes said. 'Free Our Bro'. That's how I knew it was them." He shook his head. Then something dawned on him. "How'd you…know to come? I didn't call you-"

Don stared back uncertainly, trying to think of how best to explain this. "We got a uh…another note. Kyle led us to it, we think it was from TJ Pullman. It was this address." He put his elbows on his knees, running a hand over his face and through his hair to rest on the back of his neck. "Listen, Charlie, I haven't been completely open with you. That note, the one I asked you not to decode?" Charlie nodded. "It was your name."

"What-" he shook his head, brow furrowed with incomprehension. "What uh…do you mean…?"

"It said 'Charles Edward Eppes'. We thought maybe it was just their tip-off for the CalSci bombing, but uh…I'm thinking now…" Don didn't want to say what he was thinking now. He sat in silence, waiting for the news to sink in.

Charlie swiped distractedly at the debris clinging to his pants, fingers trembling. "So they…this gang. They're trying to kill me?"

"Not- not necessarily, you know, we don't know enough yet to-"

"But they bombed my lecture and raided my house."

"Yeah, but Charlie, they also bombed a grocery store we never go to and a restaurant you've never visited. I mean, you hate Cajun food, it just doesn't make sense." Charlie shrugged in a sort of 'so what' way. "All right, listen. We've got to stick around here for a little while, you don't have to talk to the LAPD, I'll talk to them. If you want, you can just sit in your car or on the porch." Don waited for him to reply, but he just shook his head, putting a hand to the side of his face, shutting his eyes. The news was finally starting to sink in. He looked like he was going to pass out.

"Okay, c'mon." Don grabbed him by the arm, lifting him out of the chair and managed to direct him outside onto the front porch. Seating him on one of the wicker chairs, he then went down the steps to speak with the LAPD.

- - - - -

"Searched the whole house," Colby said, tugging his latex gloves off. "Nobody. Dusting for fingerprints now."

"Doubt we'll find anything," Megan said quietly. She glanced up at the front porch to where Charlie was still sitting. "How's he doing?"

Colby looked over his shoulder. "How would you be doing? Especially if you were Charlie."

"Yeah." Megan searched the crowd of people for Don. He was still by his car, trying to get a hold of either witness protection or his dad. He'd been having no luck with either. Megan climbed the porch steps, moving to one side to allow two officers past her. She approached Charlie carefully, leaning against the railing in front of him.

"Hey Charlie," she said lightly. "How you holding up?" Charlie shrugged one shoulder. "Hey." Megan knelt down in front of him, squeezing his arm. "Listen, I know you must be really anxious right now. But we've got three of the four guys who were after you. There's only one out there, and with Kyle confessing, it's just a matter of time." She smiled. "This is going to be over real soon."

Charlie nodded at the distant form of Don, barely visible over the swarm of crime investigators. "He's calling witness protection, isn't he."

Megan glanced over at him then back at Charlie. "He's also trying to call your dad. I don't know who he's talking to right now."

"But he is going to…put me into a protection program or something."

"He just wants you to be safe."

Charlie shook his head, looking down at his lap. "I can't…I don't know how that stuff works-"

"Hey, we'll walk you through it. It's going to be okay, Charlie."

Just then, a car pulled up. Megan stood and put her wrist to her mouth. "Colby, we've got a residential vehicle, appears to be a white Acura-"

"That's my dad's car," Charlie said softly.

Megan looked at him, then back at the car in time to see Alan climbing out of the front seat. "Never mind, Colby, it's Alan." He was crossing the driveway, making a b-line for Don.

- - - - -

"Yeah, call you in ten minutes. Thank you." Don shut his phone and pocketed it. "Dad, did you get my message?"

"Where's Charlie?"

"Uh-" Don pointed towards the house. "He's on the porch." Alan took off at a brisk walk through the jumble of people in uniform. Don took off after him. "Dad, wait up!"

Alan made it to the porch and ran up the steps. He saw his son sitting shakily in one of the chairs and ran over to him. "Charlie, oh my-"

"Dad, hey," Charlie answered faintly.

Alan grabbed his shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Are you okay."

"Yeah, fine. I wasn't- I wasn't even here when it happened, so…"

"I told you in the message he was okay," Don said coming up behind them. "It looks like someone ransacked the house, though."

"You said that someone broke in."

"Yeah, well I didn't want to panic you. I wanted to tell you in person."

Alan shook his head, looking stunned. "Ransacked?" He leaned towards one of the windows, trying to see inside.

Don nodded, grabbing him by the elbow. "Yeah, but you can't go in just now, we're dusting for prints."

"How bad is it?"

"Put it this way." Charlie forced a wry smile. "If it was breakable, it's broken."

Don seemed unhappy with that description. "Look, it's all fixable. And the important thing is no one was hurt. It was the gang, Dad, the one that Charlie's been helping us track."

"So if they're after you, why didn't they go to your apartment?"

"Cause…" Don glanced quickly at Charlie. "Because it wasn't about me. It's about Charlie."

The explanation about the coded messages never sounded so dreadful. When Don reached the part about finding Charlie's address, Alan stopped him. "Wait, wait, so you're telling me you knew they were after him and you didn't say anything to him or me?"

"I didn't know they were after him. We thought the first note had to do with the CalSci bombing-"

"But it had his name on it."

"Yeah, but Dad that wasn't conclusive. It's still not."

Alan planted his hands in his pockets. "Not conclusive. Finding his name in some- some thug's pocket is inconclusive? Having his house targeted by gangs-"

"It's one gang, and there are elements of this case that have nothing to do with Charlie."

"Oh, one gang. In that case, I'm relieved."

"Hey, what's your problem? What'd you want me to do, Dad? You wanted me to- to put Charlie in protective custody without knowing the facts? I didn't want him- I didn't want either of you -worried sick over something that could turn out to be nothing."

"Dad, please don't pin this on Don," Charlie said softly.

"You're lucky to be alive. Do you get that?" Alan looked down at him and he nodded numbly, and looked away. They all stood in silence for several minutes. Alan ran his hands over his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Charlie." He put a hand on his son's shoulder, then removed it gently, turning his attention to Don. "So- you can put him in protective custody now, right?"

Don looked down at Charlie. "Yeah. I just talked to the guys, they're going to make arrangements for him by tonight. He can come down to the office till then. And Dad, I think it's best you go to the safe house with him."

Alan opened his mouth to respond, but Charlie spoke first. "I'm not going."

Don shook his head. "No- Charlie don't do this. I know it freaks you out, but you've got to go."

"I'll stay at the office, I can go to your apartment for a little-"

"It's not safe there."

"It's not safe anywhere." Charlie pushed himself out of the chair. "And you can't take me off this case."

"Yes, I can and I will, especially since having you in danger is also a risk to this investigation."

"Don-"

"Charlie." Charlie turned pleading eyes on his dad. "Your brother's right. You could jeopardize all the progress you two have made on finding this gang if you put yourself in harm's way. I don't care for the idea of you being there anyway."

Charlie bit the edge of his lip, eyes bouncing from Don to Alan and then off into the sea of investigators. Finally, he fixed his gaze back on Don. "I haven't run the numbers…I need to uh…to construct a new algorithm, even a sketchy one, but…I don't think we're looking at a real gang." Don looked ready to protest so Charlie kept going before he could answer. "You can't take me off this. If these guys are really after me, which…if I'm right about the pseudo-gang theory, then they may not be. But if they are- I'm the only chance I've got."

- - - - -