Chapter 6: Shock

Megan wasn't sure what was going on, but whatever it was, it had to be bad. Very bad. One moment, Don was speaking impatiently into his phone, the next he blanched, started to tremble to all but collapse back into his chair, chalk white and shaking his head, whispering 'No' over and over again.

No, this couldn't be good, she thought dreadfully as she pried the phone out of Don's shaking hand, her other hand squeezing his shoulder hard. "This is Agent Reeves, I'm Don's partner. What's going on?" she demanded to know in a tone that didn't allow any refusal.

And sure enough, the guy at the other end didn't waste a second before answering. "Officer Keats, LAPD. We got called to the scene of a car bomb. It's Agent Eppes' brother's car."

Her stomach turned upside down and suddenly, she held on to Don's shoulder for her own support. "And Charlie?"

This time Officer Keats did hesitate. "We found a body in the driver's seat, Agent Reeves. But we'll have to wait for the DNA to come back to make a positive identification."

Megan closed her eyes, fighting off nausea. God... But she couldn't give in to the urge to crumble down right now. Her partner needed her to take over. Swallowing, she tried to focus on what needed to be done. After her third try to speak, she finally managed to get out the necessary orders. "Seal the scene, don't let anyone touch the car or the body. This is now a FBI investigation. Wait until our guys arrive and look to it that nothing and no one disturbs that scene."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She thought of anything else to add and realized with a start that she had no idea where she had to send the team to. "Where are you?"

"In front of 47 West Temple Street, Ma'am."

Megan nodded, staring blindly out of the window. "We'll be with you shortly."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Slowly, Megan put the phone down before she forced herself to turn back to Don. Her partner hadn't moved but at least, he had stopped shaking his head and repeating 'No' over and over again. Instead, he stared ahead, his eyes totally unfocused but full of turmoil. And fear. Lots and lots of fear. She felt her throat closing off and had to suppress a sob that threatened to escape her.

Charlie...

This couldn't be happening. And this couldn't be Don, her partner, who always was so strong, confident and determined.

But this was Charlie, Charlie who most likely was lying in bits and pieces all over West Temple Street, burnt to un-recognition. Sweet, passionate, extraordinary Charlie, gone, blown up…

No. No, she couldn't allow herself to think about Charlie now. She couldn't. She needed to concentrate on what needed to be done. And she needed to take care of her partner. She couldn't help Charlie anymore, but she owed it to him to help his brother now. And later, when this was over and she was alone in the sanctuary of her apartment, then she would be able to give in and have a breakdown over her friend's brutal death, but only then.

Swallowing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, she squatted down in front of Don, taking both of his hands into her own.

"Don," she called out softly, but urgently.

No reaction.

"Don," she tried again, more forceful this time.

Still no reaction.

Closing her eyes briefly, she tightened her grip on his hands, burying her nails into his palms. "Don!"

Finally, he blinked, his eyes slowly focusing. She could barely bear the pain she saw in them. "Megan," he chocked. "Charlie…"

"I know," she whispered back sadly.

"He… He…"

She tightened her hold on his hands. "I know," she repeated simply.

Don shook his head, his eyes loosing focus again. "It's not… It can't be…" he stuttered and suddenly, he was staring intensely into her eyes. "It's not true. It's not him. It's not my brother. It's not Charlie. It can't be," he insisted with ferocity, but in the end, his voice cracked.

Megan couldn't help it anymore. Her eyes watered and she felt a tear running over her cheek. She fought to answer. "Don…" was all she could bring out. She didn't want to give him false hope but neither could she bring herself to crash that tiny shred of last hope Don had. So she swallowed and played along. "I hope so. We'll know for sure once we get back the DNA-results."

At the mention of DNA, Don's head snapped up and all of a sudden, the despaired brother vanished and the mask of the steely agent fell down. He took a deep breath, pushed away Megan's hands and jumped up. Without uttering a word, he pushed past her towards the stairs. Megan didn't loose any time. She grabbed her bag and hurried after her partner, reaching for her cell phone. There was no doubt where Don was headed to and Megan didn't even try to stop him. Especially as she was pretty sure that he didn't know where the scene was in the first place. She would just make sure to not leave him out of her eyes. By the time she reached the stairs, Don was already one floor ahead of her. Cursing, she hurried up, dialing David.

After the fourth ring, David picked up. "Aww, come on, Megan. It hadn't been even two days yet."

"David, get Colby then come to 47 West Temple Street," she simply ordered her team member.

"Can't this wait?" David sighed.

Usually, Megan would play along. But this wasn't usual, she thought bitterly, her eyes fixed onto Don's back who was racing down to the garage.

"No. It's Charlie, David", she snapped. "Someone blew up his car. And it looks like Charlie was in it."

That shut David up.

Warily, Colby got out of the car and tentatively walked towards the scene. The burnt out wreck of the car was easy to spot, even without the crime scene tape, the colleagues of the LAPD and the group of spectators assembled around it.

He swallowed as unbidden memories tried to come up but he fought them down. Then he swallowed again as his nose took up the strong smell of smoke, burned rubber and burned flesh still lingering in the air and for the first time in a long time, Colby felt the contents of his lunch coming up.

Damn it.

He was no rookie anymore and what he had seen while serving in Afghanistan had been many times worse.

He caught a glimpse of what was left of the driver and had to stop and close his eyes, once again swallowing down the bile that had lurched upwards.

Or perhaps not.

He had seen brothers fall, had seen women, children and old people being executed without mercy, had seen and suffered torture that had nothing to do with humanity anymore.

But this was different.

This was the Whiz Kid, good, positive, enthusiastic, lively Charlie who somehow had managed to sneak his way into Colby's hardened heart. He had been determined to not let anyone in again but when David had called him to tell him that the Whiz Kid very likely had just got blown up, he had to realize that no matter his intentions, he had allowed Charlie in without his knowledge and now...

(Flashback)

"Man, have you any idea what you just interrupted?" Colby groaned into the phone, looking longingly at the blond who he was sure was just about to agree to come out for a drink with him.

"It's Charlie, Colby. Megan just called. His car got blown up while he seemed to have been driving it," David said tonelessly.

The blond was forgotten in a second as Colby gasped, an unknown pain clutching his heart suddenly. "What?"

"47 West Temple Street," David just said. "Hurry. Megan and Don are already on their way."

The line went dead and for a full minute, Colby could only stare at the phone in his hand, trying to comprehend what he had just heard.

(End Flashback)

Clenching his jaw, Colby shook away the memory and reminded himself of who he was, where he was and what needed to be done. Spotting Megan and David, he steeled his face and walked over to his team members.

"Colby - good that you're here," Megan greeted him, relieved. But she avoided to meet his eyes and so did David and that was enough to have his control wavering once again.

Shit.

"Got anything already?" he asked harshly.

David shook his head. "Barely. All we know is that according to the witnesses, the car was driving down the street and suddenly, it simply exploded. So it's pretty safe to assume that either it was timed - or someone used a remote control." He said it in a detached tone and perhaps, he could have pulled it off - if it weren't for the fact that David was very careful to neither mention Charlie's name or to look at his team members or the wreck.

Megan nodded. "Someone should see to it that we film the group of spectators. It's very much possible that our guy stayed to admire his handiwork."

"I'll see to it," David hurriedly assured and headed away.

Not sure what to say, Colby asked the question he feared second to most. "Where's Don?"

Megan just nodded into the direction of the wreck. Following her direction, his eyes needed a moment to finally spot Don, with his back to everyone, crouching low beside the driver's seat, staring at the remains of the driver and once more, Colby felt his emotions threatening to overcome him. He had started to look upon the Whiz Kid as a little brother himself, he knew that now, and the thought that this burned skeleton could be his friend was simply terrifying and paralyzing. And he had only known the genius for barely two years. But Don was his big brother for real and the first thing Colby had learned after joining Don Eppes' team was that there was only one way to piss off the agent real fast and that was messing with his kid brother.

This...

He shook his head. No, he couldn't imagine what Don had to go through at the moment. But he knew with absolute certainty that whoever had done this would regret it bitterly - and Colby wouldn't want it any other way. In fact, once Don was through with the bastard and if something was still left of him by then - then Colby wanted to have his turn with the asshole.

Finally - anger. Now that was an emotion he could work with, use it to get through this.

"How's he holding up?" he asked Megan.

Megan just shrugged. "So far he's managing - in a way. Has barely spoken a word though. The last he said was that it wasn't - Charlie," she finished after a gulp.

Colby frowned. "Denial or instinct?"

But Megan shook her head. "Hell if I know. All I know is that this is definitely Charlie's car, that there was a man sitting in the driver's seat when it exploded and that Charlie has failed to pick up his phone so far. All you get is the message that it's out of service." She swallowed. "I don't need to be a math genius to figure out that the chance that this," she pointed at the car wreck, "is not Charlie is pretty much like zero."

Right.

But still... "We don't have a positive ID yet, though, do we?"

"No. We'll have to use DNA and dental records." Megan sighed. "I called Merrick. He agreed to let us lead the investigation for the moment, as long as I'm in charge, and he promised to put a rush onto the analysis for the identification. Until then..." she trailed off and turned away.

Gritting his teeth, Colby looked back to Don who hadn't moved an inch. God, he hoped that this was not Charlie and he so much wanted to believe that this body couldn't be the extraordinary math genius - but at the same time he never had been much of an optimist and facts were facts.

"Numbers don't lie," echoed Charlie's voice in his mind.

"Hope they're wrong this time, Whiz Kid," he murmured and slowly headed over to his boss.

He really didn't want to confront Don right now, but someone had to deal with him and something told him that he was probably the best choice for that, with the past he had.

Besides, he had promised Charlie.

(Flashback)

Laughing, Colby shook his head, eyeing the smaller man sitting beside him at the bar. "Whiz Kid, you're not half that bad," he stated, surprising himself by admitting that at all and now even in public.

But somehow, with this guy, he just couldn't otherwise. There was something in the younger man that brought out Colby's protectiveness and at the same time, broke through every wall and shield he had build up around himself during his life. Seeing and recognizing things no one should be able to see, surely though not a simple math professor.

Then again, he hadn't known the young genius for long, but Colby already could tell that nothing was simple with this guy.

Charlie just chuckled, shrugging. "Tell you what, G.I. - you're not so bad yourself."

G.I.?

Anyone else would have paid for that but all Colby did was laugh even louder, giving the slimmer man a slap that spiraled him forward, sputtering. "Better watch your words, Whiz Kid. You never know how the other guy may react."

But Charlie shook his head, straightening. "That's not quite correct. Based on previous observations, combined with what you know of someone's background and his general behavior, you can make a pretty accurate guess at how a certain person may react to various situations, topics and emotions."

"Oh no, Whiz Kid, no math and no numbers. We're here to have fun, remember?" Colby groaned, but he couldn't help but grin. If anyone had told him six months ago that he would find himself hanging out at a bar with no one else than the Whiz Kid and actually thoroughly enjoy it, he would have laughed out loud. And now look where he was.

Charlie grinned back. "Colby - numbers are fun."

Colby shook his head. "Dude - you've still got a lot to learn if you think like that."

"Really? Like what?" Charlie asked amused, rising an eyebrow.

Colby shrugged. "Sports, barbecue, sex, drinking, cars, sex..."

"You've already said that," interrupted him Charlie.

Colby nodded. "I know. But the ladies are the most important part of ways to have fun, kiddo," he told the genius with a dirty grin.

"Ah, I see," Charlie replied, smiling. "Let's see: I play basketball, do a little diving, parachuting, climbing, hiking, biking and occasionally, I'm surfing and yep, it's all fun but sorry to tell you, it's all numbers. Barbecue is undeniable a fine thing but there too you need basic math to time just the right amount of time to grill the meat, evolving which type of grill it is, the heating time, the tenure of the meat, such things. I don't really can hold much of a drink and most cars are boring, even though they're an assemble of pure math. And as for the ladies..." His smile intensified and he turned around, viewing the bar. "Using math I can tell you with which of the women here you'll have the biggest chance to go home with."

"Oh yeah?" Colby laughed sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Charlie insisted and nodded towards a hot redhead, sitting at one of the tables with a group of friends. "Take this girl for example: your chances to score with her tonight are pretty good. She's out looking for fun, she's dressed to kill and you can tell that her legs are freshly shaved so it's safe to assume that she's out for sex."

Colby studied the redhead for a moment before nodding. "Probably, but it takes no genius to figure that out."

Charlie nodded towards a booth in the corner where Colby could make out a sweet brunette, apparently engrossed in the book in front of her . "Okay, take her. What would you think if I tell you that she's the one most likely to go with you tonight?"

Colby laughed. "No way, Whiz Kid."

"You'd be wrong. Sure, it doesn't look like she's out for something: she's reading, her clothes are not overly revealing, she's here already too long to be waiting for someone, not keeping an eye on the arriving customers either so it's safe to assume she's here on her own free will and that she seems perfectly happy to be alone," Charlie pointed out then turned to Colby. "But if that is all true, then why is she here and not home, enjoying a quiet evening with her book?" He shook his head. "Studies of behavior would mark her as an anomaly but often, it's the anomalies who can tell you the most. That girl, she's here for the chase, but like a spider in her net, she sits in that booth and waits for someone to get curious, pitiful or brave enough to go disturb her. She hasn't read more than five pages since we've come here so either she's an extremely slow reader which is unlikely or she really is observing the people in the car, making her choices. And you and I, Colby, are the lucky guys who'll have the most chance at the moment because we not only notice her, but we are also most likely the guys who meet her requirements. Observant, of a certain intelligence, not too bad looking and with an air of authority around us, at least you and this woman is not one to go for non dominants." He glanced back at the brunette before turning back around to sip at his beer. "Oh yeah, the numbers are all in your favor with her, Granger."

Frowning, Colby glanced from the girl to Charlie and back again. "I don't believe it."

Charlie shrugged. "Try it."

Perking up at that, Colby turned back to Charlie. "Are you suggesting a bet?"

Charlie made a face. "It's impolite to bet on the ladies."

"Wuss," taunted Colby.

Charlie's eyes narrowed just a bit. "You'll lose."

"In your dreams perhaps," Colby gave back, confidently.

Charlie shrugged. "Ask Don. It's not wise to bet against a mathematician."

"The greater the challenge, the more rewarding the victory," Colby responded, his eyes glinting. He loved to bet.

Rolling his eyes, Charlie met his eyes. "Okay, I guess you need a little lesson: if I'm wrong, I promise not to mention math again while hanging out with you. Deal?"

A bit surprised at that suggestion, Colby thought for a moment. He couldn't believe for a second that the Whiz Kid would ever be able to hold his word on that one. Charlie lived and breathed math, that was his world. Colby didn't understand it but he knew that much. So why was he offering such a high stake for this silly little bet now?

On the other hand - he really liked hanging out with the kid and if this bet would safe him at least a few math lessons, all the better. So he nodded. "Deal." Then he thought for a moment, unsure of what he could offer to meet Charlie's high stake.

Apparently noticing his dilemma, Charlie made a suggestion. "I'd know something you could do for me if I'm right with her," he offered.

"And that would be?" Colby wanted to know.

Suddenly serious, Charlie stared straight into his eyes. "I want you to promise me that you watch Don's back."

Taken aback at Charlie's demand, Colby frowned. "I'm on his team. Of course I look out for him. That's what a team is there for. We look out for each other."

But Charlie shook his head. "I know that. I ask you to watch out for him outside of that." He was silent for a moment, his eyes keeping Colby's captured. "I know you all have to see a lot on your job. And as a leader, Don's burden is even greater. He deals pretty well with it, I think, but sometimes, even he needs someone to listen - or simply understand. You, you can relate to him. With your past in the army and your background, you are the one out of the team who's the most likely to be able to get Don to listen to you - open up. I can see it. So I'd like your promise that when he needs you, you'll be there for him."

Colby had never heard Charlie sounding more sincere and it was easy to see that this was very important for the Whiz Kid. He was dead serious about this. For a moment, it occurred to Colby that this was not something that should be in any relation with a bet - and at the same time he wondered if somehow, this harmless math professor hadn't managed to get him right where he had wanted him. Actually, now thinking about it, he was pretty sure that he had just been majorly played by the Whiz Kid.

Then again, it hardly mattered. He began to understand just what the younger man was asking him and he felt a sudden surge of gratitude, pride and warmth that Charlie had singled him out for this task that was probably as important to the mathematician as his math.

Slowly, he nodded gravely. "I promise."

Charlie studied him for a long moment longer, until he nodded as well. "If the lady says yes," he lightened their conversation with a small smile.

Colby's eyes never left the big brown eyes of the genius. "I promise," he repeated.

Another long moment of Charlie staring into his eyes before he nodded again, slowly. "Good."

Only then did Colby stand up and, with a slap onto Charlie's back, headed towards the lady. Promise or no promise, they still had a bet to settle.

(End Flashback)

With a start, Colby came back from his memories. Shit. He couldn't afford to space out like this. He had a job to do.

And he had a promise to hold.

Needless to say that Colby had left that bar with the brunette shortly after his talk with Charlie.

If it had to do with numbers, the Whiz Kid was always right as Colby had soon learned the hard way. And you really shouldn't bet against a mathematician. All you could was loose. Not that he had minded to lose that special bet. He had a few very good times with that brunette. And even more importantly, he and Charlie had bonded that night over the promise he had made to Charlie, opening up the ways for them to become closer friends.

His eyes fell onto the body, the black, shrimpled skin straining over the bones, traces of burnt hair still attached to the skull, gaping holes where once were big, expressive brown eyes...

Once more, nausea hit him like it hadn't in years and he swallowed hard. No. No, he couldn't loose it. He owed it to Charlie to be on his best in order to catch the bastard responsible for this. So he forced himself to look away from the body and turn his entire focus on the one Eppes he actually really could do something to help him - perhaps.

"Hey."

There was no answer, no movement at all. It didn't look as if his boss had even noticed him coming up behind him. Something very unlikely for their leader.

Hesitating a moment, Colby finally reached out to lay a hand onto Don's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Don."

At first he thought Don still hadn't noticed his presence but just when he was about to repeat himself with even more insistence, Don spoke. "What do you want, Granger?" he asked harshly in a voice Colby barely recognized.

Taken aback slightly, Colby needed a second to get his wits together - not that he actually had had a plan in the first place. "What... Uh, what do you want me to do?" he finally asked.

Another long moment of silence. "See to it that every single footing of this street and the surrounding block gets on my desk by tomorrow morning. Building surveillance, satellite pictures, traffic control cameras, AMTs, some tourist filming the streets, I don't care. It's on my desk by tomorrow. I want to know from where this car came and I want to see the face of every last person who's been close to this scene for the half hour before and after the bomb went up."

Colby knew it was impossible to get all that data so soon. It would be a nightmare to get together all the footings if not impossible. But he didn't even think to protest and simply nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

In reality, he wanted Don to move. It couldn't be healthy to stare at these remains for so long. Especially if it really was the Whiz Kid.

At the mere thought of the young man he felt his control slipping and angrily, he grasped at it, pushing the genius out of his mind.

"Yeah, try to see what you can find out about Charlie's movements for the past two weeks, start with the last couple of days," Don nodded. "But most importantly: get in touch with whoever you know high up, be it army, FBI or another agency and find out who of those incompetent idiots dragged my brother into this mess, whatever it is. Give me a name so I can go and give that asshole a piece of my mind." Slowly, he stood up and Colby noticed that his hands were balled to so tight fists that the knuckles stood out white. "First my brother gets shot at and now his car is blown up, with someone inside. I don't care what secret stuff is going on or on whose toes I might step on, I'm going to learn what is going on, grab Charlie and get him the hell out of it," he hissed, his face a mask of ice cold rage.

Involuntarily, Colby took a step back. He had thought he had seen Don angry, but obviously, he had been wrong. Don had been a pussycat on the worst he had so far seen him compared to how he was now. One had to be suicidal to even think about refusing this furious Don anything - but still... He had promised.

Reluctantly, Colby glanced at the body, his heart clenching. "Don... I can understand that you're angry and I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now, but... Don, think about it. Charlie wouldn't have wanted you to... I mean, Charlie was..."

He didn't get any further as suddenly, he found himself yanked forward by the collar of his shirt, right into Don's face, staring into two dark, boiling hot eyes. "Is, Granger, is," Don quietly corrected him. "This is not Charlie. I don't know where he is at the moment but I know that this is not him. And don't you dare tell me what my brother would want me to do now. You know nothing about it, is that understood?"

Colby had stared death into its eyes many times already, but never had he been as scared as he was now. With a sudden bolt he realized that with loosing Charlie, they would most likely loose Don as well - if they hadn't lost him already.

"Is that understood?" Don repeated, his eyes burning into Colby's.

Silently, Colby nodded. Gauging that it wasn't enough, he forced himself to speak as well. "Yeah, Don. Understood."

Something flashed in Don's eyes and all of a sudden, the fury was gone, leaving only despair behind and Don let go of him as if touching Colby had burned him, stepping back. His back connected with the car wreck and immediately, Don jerked forward, breathing deeply.

Colby stood his place, waiting. He wouldn't leave Don alone right now.

Warily, Don shook his head. "Sorry. I just..."

Colby shook his head. "It's okay."

Don wasn't looking at him or anyone else but only glanced back at the burned body. "It's not him," he whispered, desolate.

Colby sighed. He wished he could believe Don. He would give anything for the body not to be Charlie.

But as the Whiz Kid would be the first to remark: the numbers were against them in this case.

It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

That was Don's mantra ever since spotting his first glimpse of the body in his little brother's wreck of a car and he clung to it as if it was a lifeline.

In a way it was. He couldn't afford to think something else, to have the slightest doubt that this gruesome rest of what once had been a living and breathing human body was not Charlie. Because if he didn't, then he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this would be it: the edge that meant his downfall, the point of no return. If he allowed himself to entertain the possibility that he had lost his little brother to something so vicious and cowardly as a car bomb, then he'd loose it and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to get over that loss.

When had his brother become such a vital part of Don's life that even the thought of facing a life without Charlie in it was too much to bear?

The sad truth was that for a long time, Don may have loved Charlie as the dutiful big brother he was - and loosing him would have devastated him, sure - but not what he could now feel hovering beyond that edge: blackness and blankness. Emptiness.

If this was Charlie (It's not him!), then it would destroy Don. Simple as that. Not even his father's presence and his need for Don would be able to prevent that anymore.

Oh God - their father! How could he ever bring himself to tell their Dad that Charlie's car had been blown up with someone inside and Charlie himself being unaccounted for so far? Their mother's death had been hard enough on their Dad, and now this?

No, Don couldn't do this - but then, he hardly had a choice there, hadn't he? The car bomb would make the evening news and Don was sure that his father's parental instinct would help him recognize the wreck as Charlie's car immediately. And no matter what - he couldn't let his dad find out about this through the news. So he had to tell him. Somehow managing to convince his dad that the body wasn't Charlie, that their little genius was still out there, somewhere.

He had to be. The alternative was unacceptable.

Not that Don was worried.

It's not him.

He stared at the body again.

He wasn't stupid. He may not like it, but the agent in him knew that so far, all evidence pointed towards Charlie being that body. It was his car, he had failed to respond to any tries to contact him, the body was obviously male, had Charlie's height and stature and from how it looked, even the same long hair as Charlie had. Oh yeah, the agent knew only too well that all logic told them that these were the remains of Dr Charles Edward Eppes.

But with this case, he wasn't just an agent. Foremost, he was a brother, Charlie's big brother and that brother refused to listen to the agent's reasoning. The brother knew only one thing with absolute certainty and that was that this man, whoever he had been, was not his little brother. There was no evidence to back him up in his belief, nothing that pointed towards him being right. And Don couldn't explain it, had no words for it. He just knew that this wasn't Charlie.

Charlie lived in a world of facts, not believing in anything that had no basis in science and Don wasn't exactly far behind him. Evidence was everything in his job as well. But contrary to his brother, he had accepted that there existed things that could not be explained, that defied any rules of science and logic.

One of these things was instinct. Oh, his brother would vehemently contradict that, he's say that instinct could be led back to science, evolution or something like that, invisible electromagnetic waves or whatever. Perhaps that was true. He didn't care about that. He had just learned that in his line of duty, instinct was as important as evidence, if not even more important.

And it was pure instinct that told him now that this was not Charlie. That his little brother was alive.

Problem was that that was not enough to convince the others that they better concentrated on finding his little brother than waste their time moping around over this guy. Not that Don didn't feel with the guy. He definitely wanted to find out who he was and what he was doing in Charlie's car. But right now, finding his brother was more important. Not that an easy task with Charlie not answering any of the phones connected to him. Or with his brother suddenly turning all secretive on him, refusing to tell Don where he was spending his time lately. And him not even telling him what agency he was working for at the moment didn't help either.

Was he working with them somewhere now, deeply lost in his world of numbers, unaware that his brother was going through hell at the very same moment? Or had the bastards blowing up Charlie's car kidnapped him and were torturing him now in some shit hole, hoping that the car bomb would keep the police off their neck for a while? Was he hurt? Scared? Did he know that they wanted everyone to believe that he was dead, was he imagining what such news would do to Don and their father?

"Don?"

He looked up to see his team standing in front of him. Megan looking worried beyond her mind, David avoiding to meet his eyes and Colby with a rage in his eyes that at any other time would have worried Don. Now - now he simply registered it and filed it away for later use - like when he went after the bastards blowing up his little brother's car, trying to make him believe that Charlie was dead. Oh yeah... he was sure of who to go to first if he needed help with bringing them down. A realization that made him even more sorry to have lost it with Colby earlier on. But... hearing him talk like Charlie was already gone, hinting he had any idea how Don may feel in this living nightmare...

It hadn't gone past Don that his brother and his youngest team member had bonded, had became friends even, as unlikely a pair they were. Therefore he wasn't as surprised to see a glimpse of the same rage in Colby's eyes as he was feeling. He had seen how Colby had changed from dutifully tolerating Charlie's often participation on their cases to accept him as a full team member, one he not only befriended but one he held utmost respect for. In a way it had been funny to watch the hard ex-soldier going from doubting Charlie's work for them on every end to become more or less dependent on him helping them out with some equation he pulled out of the hat. Lately, Colby was often the first one to whine for asking Charlie to help them. Don was also aware that the way Colby treated Charlie nowadays was a rather brotherly one - an observation that left him with mixed feelings. For the most part he was glad for Charlie because his brother could really need more friends in Don's eyes. And at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a bit wary of it. Perhaps even a bit jealous. After all, he hadn't much things in his life that were special or there just for him. But Charlie and his devotion, admiration and love for Don, his big brother - that was perhaps the most precious thing Don had in his life and he may be a bit greedy with it, but he didn't want to loose even a tiny bit of this to anyone. He only had one brother and he was surprised to find out that he wasn't willing to share Charlie in that sense of the word.

In the end though, he didn't think he had cause to worry. If anything, Charlie was fiercely loyal and while he had a hard time acknowledging it, his heart knew that if Charlie would have to choose, he would always choose his brother. Don knew that he hadn't always appreciated such an unquestioned devotion as he should have, but he was learning to - or reminded of, he wasn't quite sure about that. While he did remember more and more of the good moments between him and Charlie, it was somehow hard to remember his feelings back then, or rather said, to sort them out. He knew that there had been love, as well as jealousy for Charlie back then. Sometimes also hurt, and sometimes pride. But had he really ever simply appreciated to have a younger brother in whose eyes he could do no wrong, in whose world he was the hero, no matter what?

(Flashback)

"Donnie?"

Don refused to answer. The last person he wanted to talk to was his stupid nerd of a little brother. Ha! Brother! Pain in the ass would nail it better.

"Donnie?"

Or wasn't it Charlie's fault (Again!) that they wouldn't do this weekend what Don wanted to do and like his parents had promised him to, namely go to Sea World? But no, of course they weren't going! Why had he thought this time would be any different? Charlie had to go ruin it once more, winning yet another meaningless award. And now, instead of going to Sea World, they were going to Boston so the little genius could accept his award. It wasn't fair! This weekend was supposed to be his! Mom and Dad had promised him that he could say what they were doing this time! From the day on Charlie had solved his stupid math homework with three, Charlie had always messed up everything, so why should this have been any different? That cursed brain of his!

A gift, Mom said.

Ha! A curse, that was what it was.

"Donnie?"

Angry, Don stared at the door, wishing Charlie would simply go away. Why couldn't Charlie leave him alone? Always, he had to hang out with Don, following him around like a lost little puppy. If one could at least do something with him, but the little brat was five years younger and all he talked about was his stupid math! If he at least could have been like Tommy, Mike's little brother. He was a nuisance as well but at least you could play ball with him or play police and robbers. But with Charlie - oh, you could play, but within fifteen minutes into the fun he would start babbling about numbers and statistics. And that was no fun at all.

"Donnie, please?"

"Go away, Chuck!" Don growled, glaring at the door.

"Charlie? Your father needs your help with the kois, Honey," he heard their mother tell Charlie.

"But Mom, Donny..."

"Go, Charlie," their mother ordered gently.

Relieved, Don heard Charlie's little feet moving away, descending the stairs. At last. His relief was short lived though.

"Don, open your door."

He refused to move.

"Donald Eppes, you open that door now," his mom repeated.

He knew that tone. He better moved before she used all three of his names. Grudgingly, he stood up and moved to open the door. He went back to his bed and sat down, his back towards his mom.

His mom sighed. "Don, I know you are disappointed that we're not going to Sea World this weekend but that is no reason to let that out on your brother."

He snorted. "Why not? It's his fault!"

His mother approached him and sat down beside him. "No, Don. It's not as if Charlie chose to win this award or had any idea that the ceremony would be this weekend. And I promise you, we will go next weekend instead."

Don drew up his shoulders. "Please, Mom. Something else will probably come up. Or we spent too much money on our trip to Boston so we can't go to Sea World as well. And you know, Charlie participated, didn't he? He had to know he'd win. He always wins. I bet he had it all calculated so he knew exactly that the ceremony was this weekend!"

His mother was silent, which surprised him a little. He would have bet she'd reprimand him. She always did when he vented over Charlie.

"Do you really think that, Don?" his mom finally asked and there was a sadness in her voice that made him feel uncomfortable. "That Charlie would do something like that on purpose?"

Once again, he refused to answer.

"Oh Donnie, don't you know by now that your brother adores you? That he would never do something to disappoint you?" his mom sighed.

"Yeah right," Don answered bitterly.

And still - he remembered last week when Charlie had come flying into his arms after Don had won the baseball game for his team with a home run, yelling at the top of his lungs that this was his big brother and that he was the world's greatest baseball player. That had been nice. Damn, actually, that had been pretty much cool. He had never seen or heard Tommy cheering on Mike like that. But of course, a few hours later Charlie had to tell him how his math told him how Don could have been even better.

He startled when suddenly, his mom got up and held out her hand. "Come with me, Don."

Stubborn, he ignored the outstretched hand.

"Don."

Then again, the last thing he needed was to get grounded on top of it all. Reluctantly, he got up - still refused to take his mom's hand though. He wasn't a small child like Charlie anymore after all.

Rolling her eyes, his mom led him out of the room, down the stairs and out through the back door. Quietly, they entered the garage.

Confused, Don looked around himself, then back at his mother. "What are we doing here?"

But his Mom held a finger to her lips and motioned him over to where she stood at the open gate. Once he joined her, she pointed towards the pond where Charlie and Dad were sitting.

He was about to ask what was going on when he heard Charlie cry out. "But, Dad, it's my award! Why can't I decide if I want to go get it or not? They can send it with the post like they did it with the British award. I don't want to go!"

Don frowned.

"Charlie, this is important. You said yourself that this award is a pretty big thing," their dad told Charlie. "Besides, didn't you tell me only two weeks before that you hoped you would win so you could go and see Boston?"

"But I did win and that's what counts. I don't need to go get the award, they'll only ask me endless questions again or showing me around all the time. Sea World would be so much more fun! And Donnie promised me we would go swimming with the dolphins. Please, Daddy, let's go there."

Their father shook his head. "No, Charlie. It would be impolite not to go, especially as they were kind enough to cover for our expenses for the voyage." He stood up and laid a hand onto the top of the curly hair. "We will go to Sea World another time. And you'll see, once there we will surely have much fun as well."

Charlie looked up and with his father's broad back out of the way, Don could see the tears and unhappiness on his little brother's face, causing his heart to twitch. "But, Daddy, Donnie, he..."

"Charlie, Don is a big boy. He'll understand," their father interrupted him in his final tone and with a last pat went back inside.

Charlie stared after him, his lips trembling, then turned abruptly to curl up into a tight ball beside the pond. There was no doubt left that Charlie clearly wasn't happy with their father's decision or words. Don watched the small shoulders of his brother shaking and suddenly felt a large gulp in his throat.

From behind, his mom slipped her arms around Don and held him tight. "I know that it's not always easy for you to have to deal with Charlie's gift, Baby. That you've got to make concessions that your friends don't have to make. That Charlie isn't like other little brothers. That he isn't even like you or me or Dad. But the math, those numbers, they are a part of Charlie, Donnie, and yes, it makes him special. Different. But, Donnie, you need to understand that Charlie can't help to be like he is and that it's not easy for him either. And that despite his gift, he is still just a little boy. A little boy whose only and best friend is his brother. You heard him: he wanted nothing more than to go to Sea World and swim with the dolphins with you. It wasn't his choice to go to Boston instead." She turned him around to look Don into the eyes, her eyes soft but serious. "Now, do you still think that Charlie wanted to ruin the weekend for you on purpose?"

Don bit his lips and shook his head. No, no he couldn't believe that anymore. And with the anger gone, he now felt guilty for being so harsh to Charlie. It was still unfair though.

His mom smiled at him, smoothing his hair back. "Good. I knew you would understand. You are growing up so fast, Baby."

He scrunched up his nose and ducked his head. "Mom!"

Her smile got bigger for a moment, but then she turned serious. "I am sorry that you have to cut back for your brother sometimes, Donnie. But please, don't blame Charlie for it. I know it's not that easy. Just try to always remember that your brother is a gift and just because it's so hard with him sometimes, it's an even greater gift, okay, Donnie?"

Don wasn't quite sure if he understood his mother completely, but he thought he caught the gist of it, so he nodded.

"Okay," his mom said and, with a last caress of Don's cheek, stood up. "Well, I should get back to the kitchen if you guys want dinner tonight. Any special wish?"

His stomach growled in response and he looked up hopefully. "Can we have steaks and baked potatoes?"

To his delight, his mom nodded. "Steak and potatoes it is," she said grinning and with a last glance towards her youngest, went inside.

Slowly, Don turned around to look back at Charlie who was still silently crying, judging from the way his shoulders still shook. He looked down and buried his hands into his pockets, shuffling his feet uneasily. This wasn't what he had expected. He had counted with Charlie beaming and bragging about his award, not crying his eyes out and even raising his voice towards their father. Charlie never raised his voice.

And all that because he wanted to go to Sea World as well?

From somewhere deep inside, there was a voice silently whispering to him: No – because he wanted to go with you to Sea World and swim with the dolphins. Because you wanted to go.

He sighed, reluctantly accepting that. For a moment longer he watched his little brother before he slowly walked over and sat down beside him.

"Hey, Chuck."

The curly head dug deeper. "My name's not Chuck," Charlie sniffed.

Don shrugged. "So… You won another award, huh? Which one?"

Now Charlie shrugged, his head turning away. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

For a moment, Don was startled. "Sorry? Whatever for?"

A shudder ran through the small body of his brother. "For winning. That I messed up your weekend and we won't go to Sea World."

Suddenly, Don felt two very strong emotions. First, guilt for more or less blaming Charlie for exactly the same thing and second, anger, that this so called gift of his brother had not only brought him to do that but that it had also brought Charlie such obvious pain. He didn't know what to do with these strong feelings so he did the only thing he could think of: something he hadn't done in a while. He reached out and pulled Charlie into a short but tight hug, releasing him quickly to ruffle his hair. "Jeez, Chuck, don't think so much of yourself," he laughed and shrugged. "We'll go to Sea World next weekend. Besides, I heard Boston's pretty cool as well. Hey, and we'll get to fly. I mean, it's at the other coast, so sure we'll fly." He grinned at that thought. "I can't wait to fly. It must be so cool!"

Charlie finally looked up and he stared at his big brother with those big brown eyes, full of confusion and hope. "You really think so? You don't mind us going to Boston this weekend instead of Sea World, Donny?" he asked tentatively, his voice small.

Don swallowed and nodded, still grinning. "Positive. Come on now, let's play some basket ball until dinner's ready."

His face lightening up like that ball at New Year in New York, Charlie jumped up. "Really?"

Don just gave him an exasperated look. As if that was such a big deal.

But apparently it was, because a second later the thin arms of his brother were thrown around his neck and Charlie's body was pressed tight against the much broader form of Don. "I love you, Donnie. You're the best brother in the world!" whispered Charlie into Don's ear.

Awkwardly, but with a strange but fierce warm feeling in his chest, Don returned the hug briefly and patted Charlie's back before pushing him away. Not bothered at all by that and all traces of tears being gone, Charlie flashed him a huge smile before dashing towards the garage to go get the basket ball. For a moment, Don stared after him, contemplating what had just occurred, until Charlie emerged with the ball in his arms.

"Come on, Donnie!" Charlie urged him on, heading toward the basket ball basket their Dad had installed for them a few months ago.

All thoughts leaving Don, he raced after his brother.

His last thought though was that Charlie wasn't that bad a brother after all.

(End Flashback)

"Don!"

He blinked, coming out of that memory with a heavy heart.

'Oh Mom', he thought painfully. And Charlie…

Growing aware of three sets of worried eyes resting on him, he took a deep breath and forced himself to get a grip. Right. Right.

"What?" he asked harshly, dimly noticing that his voice still didn't sound like his own.

"They are ready to bag Ch... the body and haul the wreck back to the labs," Megan said carefully, as if she expected Don to break down any moment.

His chest tightened for a moment.

It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly stepped away from the car with the body inside, unsure of just how much time had passed since he and Megan had arrived at the scene and for the first time grew aware that the sky had darkened and the group of spectators had loosened up while some of the CSI guys were already packing up their things again.

Damn.

He must have spaced out quite a bit.

The coroner moved past them and spread out the black body bag, proceeding to carefully lift the burnt remains out of the car, not quite succeeding though. The right hand was still dangling from the wheel.

For a terrible long second, Don lost his mantra and panic pushed him towards the edge of a bottomless black pitch, filled only with his pain and screams of rage and devastation.

It's not Charlie!

He hurried to reassure himself with gritted teeth and the panic slowly ebbed away. But the brother's confidence had suffered a serious crack, he could feel it. He needed to find Charlie. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold onto his fierce belief that Charlie was still alive and not being bagged at this very moment.

As long as he could believe that this wasn't Charlie, he would manage, Don knew that. But he sensed that as soon as he was loosing that belief, that hope...

No, he didn't want to think about what would be then. Or rather said, he was too afraid to think about it. He had always thought he was a sensible man, one who never gave up, no matter how hard the obstacles were and one who, if pushed to choose, would always do the right thing. With Charlie gone though, murdered... He wasn't so sure if he could still live with himself after he would be through with the bastards who had taken his little brother away from him. Oh no, he wasn't even going to think about that right now. Besides, it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't Charlie after all.

He took a deep breath and finally addressed his team. "You know what you have to do. Question witnesses, get all available footing you can find, talk to your buddies in other agencies and the LAPD. Talk to Larry and even Charlie's students if necessary. I want to know where he was and with whom he was for the past two weeks." He nodded at the car wreck and the black body bag lying beside it. "Get them to put a rush on this. Even if it's only a fiber, I want to know everything they can find in the car and on the body. Oh, and get in touch with traffic control. We need to find out where the car came from." His fingers were still fisted into a tight ball. He didn't seem to be able to unclench them anymore. As if he let relax them it somehow was like letting go of Charlie. But that wasn't going to happen. Never. He stared at Megan. "That okay with you?" he asked neutrally.

This time, he wasn't in charge. Probably the most important case he ever had to solve and he wasn't in charge. Sure, in Merrick's position, he probably would have made the same decision. But he wasn't. He was just an agent with a missing brother. A brother for whom its best was done to make him believe that his little brother was dead.

Megan nodded. "Of course." She hesitated, biting her lips. "And what are you going to do?" she finally asked tentatively.

Don stared past her at the news vans gathered beyond the crime scene tape. "Going home," he answered flatly, refusing to let the despair and dread he was feeling at the task ahead of him show in his voice. "I need to tell Dad before he learns of it from the news."

Alan paused, staring at the picture he had just dusted. After his beloved Margaret had died, he hadn't been able to dust them without pausing, halting, remembering - grieving. After a while, he had managed to just dust them then move on and nowadays, that was the common thing.

Still, from time to time, he would dust them or even only walk by and something called to him, to pause, to go back the memory lane.

He stared at the picture of his late wife, one of their boys under each of her arms, Charlie, still small and bony, despite already almost as big as his mother on the left, and Don, already big and broad to her right, all three obviously happy and he wondered what had caused him to pause this time. He took in his eldest, how even on this picture from his early college days he already had that unwavering air of confidence around himself, and couldn't help but marvel at how wonderful a man and person Don had turned out to be. Disciplined, protective, selfless, passionately fulfilling his duty for the people, regardless of what the job cost him all.

Yes, Alan was very proud of Don and even though he could definitely live without the constant worry he was in, he wouldn't want anything else for Don. He knew that his eldest loved his job, that was why he was so good at it and when he thought back at his son's childhood, he couldn't help but think that it was predestined. Don had always been good with people, always at the center of a group, usually the favorite and more often than not the leader. He hadn't always played by the rules, only when it counted, but perhaps it was just his hang for the mischievous that made him understand the criminals better in order to catch them now. And of course, Don had always been protective, a side of him that had come out to stand out starkly after his brother had been born. True, he and Margaret had always encouraged Don to look out for his younger brother, especially after learning of Charlie's amazing gift for mathematics. Perhaps a bit too much. Then again, he knew that Don would have always looked out for Charlie even without the incentive from his parents. From the first moment on when Charlie had stooped crying after a seemingly endless night of crying to open his eyes, see his brother and smile, reaching out for him with his little arms, Don had been hooked, grabbing the little hand and holding on to never let go again.

Well, almost. Alan was more than aware that his two sons had had a time in which they had drifted apart that started tight in the time frame this picture had been taken in, when both of his sons had set out to college, ready to conquer the world, Don at eighteen and Charlie at tender thirteen years old, a drift between them they had only started to kit lately.

His eyes wandered over to his youngest and he felt the old doubts coming up. Often, he and Margaret had worried if they were doing the right thing, supporting and promoting Charlie's gift like they had, letting him have tutor after tutor instead of letting him attend a real school and then later sending him to high school and college with kids almost twice his age. They had tried to give Charlie as normal a childhood as possible - but really, how much normalcy could you give a young mind that was able to calculate mathematical problems even the experts had trouble with? Not much. In the end, they had had the choice to either let him have a normal childhood or to let his impressive mind blossom and fly. It was mostly Margaret who had insisted on the latter, and as she had always seemed to understand their youngest a lot better than Alan, he had trusted his wife's instinct in that matter.

Still... Charlie had missed out on so many things and though it looked as if Charlie was happy with his parent's decision, Alan couldn't help but wonder. Especially when he looked at Charlie's life and saw how little friends he had, at least from his past, or the scarce good memories he could tell the few friends he had nowadays. On the other end, he thought, gazing at the adolescent boy smiling up at his mother in a way he only had ever smiled for her and that had died along with Margaret, Charlie too had turned out to be an impressive man and person. Not just because of his expertise in his field that seemed to know no boundaries, but because of his passion and strangely unique way to look at the universe. He had dedicated himself to help, similar to his brother, though in an entirely different way. As a teacher, he helped young minds discover the mysteries of math and Alan had it from various good sources that Charlie excelled at that task. As a mathematician, always eager to find new ways for his math to help improve the world they lived in. And finally as a consultant, working for law enforcement like the FBI, helping put criminals behind bars and save lives.

Yes, Alan was very proud of both of his sons. Now they just had to get their act together on the personal side, find themselves a nice young lady and finally start giving Alan the grandchildren he hoped for. The lack of them was really the only thing he had to complain about with his sons.

He shook his head and reached out to caress his wife's face, feeling the loss her death had left behind with a sudden heaviness. God, how he missed her, her sparkling laughter their sons had inherited, the silent support she always gave those she loved, the unquestioned love she brought in all of their lives. If it weren't for the boys and his promise to her, he didn't think that he would have had the strength to go on after her death. But he had survived it and as much as it saddened him, it mostly got easier with each day. Sometimes though the devastating loss would overwhelm him, making his heart clench.

"Oh, Maggie," he whispered, having to close his eyes for a moment in order to get back his bearings - his will to live, even with his precious wife gone.

So far, he never had given up and he had no intention to do so anytime soon. His boys still needed him, especially Charlie. His mother's death had nearly destroyed his sensitive baby boy, there was no other word for it, and though he was slowly healing, Alan knew that his son wasn't ready to loose the last parent he had. Or his brother for that matter. And Don... He didn't worry as much about his eldest, but then he did like to think that even his badass FBI agent of a son still needed his old man from time to time. Besides, he had all kinds of embarrassing stories to tell his future daughters-in-law and grandchildren.

That was, if those two loners would finally see the light.

With a snort, he moved on in order to get the housework done. He was just about to add a finishing touch when he heard a familiar car door slam, emanating a smile from Alan. He really had no idea how Don did it, but he sure had a knack of knowing just when to arrive in order to get a good free meal. Not that Alan complied. This way he knew that his eldest at least sometimes got some real food to sustain him. He made a quick trip to the kitchen to see how his goulash was forthcoming and wasn't surprised at all to find out that it was almost ready, with only mere minutes left. Now all that still missed was his youngest to come home and they would be ready to have a nice family dinner. Hearing the house door softly opening and closing, he headed out to greet his son with an amused smile.

The smile died instantly at the first look Alan got of his eldest. It was all it took to know that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Donnie?" he asked quietly, stepping towards his son.

Don lifted his head, avoided to look at him though. That alone made Alan's heart stop with cold dread, an irrational fear for his youngest suddenly filling him.

"What happened?" he asked sharply, crossing the last distance between himself and Don. When Don still wouldn't answer, he gripped his son's shoulder and forced him to look up. The look in his son's eyes let him almost stagger back.

No. God, no...

Not his baby boy.

Alan's breath hitched as wild panic started to settle down.

Not Charlie...

But there Don was, his shoulders slumped, his eyes raw and swallowing, as if he had trouble to speak. And Alan knew that there was only one thing that could render his usually so strong son into such a desolate state.

Charlie...

"Dad," Don finally managed to say in a croaked voice. "Charlie..."

His voice broke and with it, Alan's world crashed down.

TBC!

(Author's Note: First of: Thanks again to my beta for checking my writing. And then: sigh... Ah, I love writing the dramatic parts, with tragedy looming above everything... Hope you enjoyed it as well. More soon. In the meantime, thanks for the wonderful reviews! It's not the only thing that keeps me writing - but it sure has a part of it as well, all this encouragement! Thanks.)