In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on

110

Megan and Colby were looking at the broken door. They had already called forensics and now were just waiting for David and Don. They were avoiding Alan's questions and they all knew it, including Alan who found their silence incredibly disturbing.

"Tell me what's going on." Alan spoke quietly and with an authority he had learned to use as a father, especially as a father to an absentminded mathematician and an FBI agent.

"Maybe we should wait for Don," Colby said, obviously unsure what to do when it came to his boss' family.

"Despite what you might think, Agent Granger," Alan retorted sharply, "I'm not a child, and I want to know what you know about my son." Alan rarely lost his temper, but he really didn't like it when people were trying to hide from him what had happened to either of his sons. His imagination was filling in for what they weren't telling him, and it was giving him images he didn't like.

"We think he was kidnapped," Megan said softly, seeming to sense that Alan's findings this morning and all the waiting he'd had to do were weighing heavily on him. They all knew that sometimes not knowing was worse than knowing the truth.

"Why?"

Alan's voice was controlled. He had had to deal with the danger in Don's job for a while, and he didn't raise a boy like Charlie by losing control at any sign of trouble. Still, he looked rather shaken.

"The man who took him sent us a picture of him," Megan said, her eyes momentarily shifted to the spot on the floor where Alan had found the blood.

"Was he hurt?"

"A few cuts, nothing serious." Megan smiled reassuringly and Alan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Dad?" Don's voice carried from the main entrance to the house.

"We're in the kitchen."

Don walked into the room, taking in the scene. David had filled him in about the broken door and the blood, but he wasn't completely ready for it. Nor was he ready to see his father this shaken. "Anything?" He asked to no-one in particular.

"No." Megan answered, sounding frustrated. "And I talked with the tech guys, and they couldn't get anything off the e-mail. There was a number sent with the picture; maybe Larry and Amita could take a look at it."

"Do it."

Megan nodded and stepped outside to call Larry.

"Start asking questions." Don commanded. "Find out if there's anyone with a grudge against him. Also run down all our cases. That picture was sent to us for a reason."

Everyone acknowledged Don and moved away to do their job as well as to give father and son some time to speak.

"We'll find him, Dad."

Alan sighed. "I trust you, Donnie, it's just… we don't even know when he was taken. He could've been gone the whole night and I didn't even…" Alan couldn't finish his sentence.

"Don't blame yourself; you had no way of knowing."

"Don," Alan's tone became serious, "I want to see that picture."

"No," Don answered a little more harshly then he intended. He softened his voice. "Trust me; you really don't want to see it. It's not that he's injured, it's just… take my word on this, dad."

Alan nodded softly; unfortunately, he understood.

111

Charlie was sore. His bones were pressed against the chair's unyielding metal, and every small movement hurt. By the time he was finished testing his restraints, the length of his back and neck felt bruised, and he could barely move his head at all.

He closed his eyes tightly when he heard the door open. He felt his heart resuming its furious beat.

"Are you hungry, Charlie?"

The unexpected question came from Charlie's left. He wanted to nod in response but found that it hurt; instead, he mumbled something that he hoped sounded like a 'yes'.

"You know, it's been about sixteen hours; you must be thirsty too."

Charlie was past thirsty ten hours ago but said nothing.

"Here." John spoke softly while pressing some kind of wet cloth to Charlie's lips. Charlie sucked greedily at the welcomed moisture.

"Take it easy, Charlie. I won't let you get dehydrated." John removed the cloth from Charlie's mouth and gave him a straw. Charlie took in the water eagerly, knowing that it could be snatched from him at any second.

John removed the straw and paused. Charlie felt tense whenever John did that. He knew he was being watched, though he couldn't see John doing it. Instead, Charlie was getting very familiar with the stains in the ceiling.

"Eat," John ordered quietly and put a piece of bread next to Charlie's mouth. Charlie did as he was told and took a bite.

"Tell me more about Donnie." John fed him the bread piece by piece, letting Charlie speak between bites.

Charlie didn't like the way John used Don's name, creating a familiarity with someone it was obvious he hated. He spoke carefully, hoping he'd found a safe subject. "Like I said, there's not much to say. We pretty much stayed out of each other's way."

"You were in the same class," John said.

Charlie swallowed hard, the metal around his throat hurting when he swallowed.

"Yeah, but I'm his little brother; you know what it's like."

John's mood seemed to darken. "No," he yelled as Charlie heard some metallic items hitting the floor. "I don't know what it's like." Every word sounded like it was being forced out. "Not all brothers are bastards like yours." With that, John stormed out of his room, slamming the door behind him, Charlie's meal long forgotten.

Those few pieces of bread did not quiet Charlie's hunger. All he could do was to find a distraction in the patterns on the ceiling.

1000

Megan stepped into Larry's office quietly, not wanting to startle the professor.

"Megan, hello," Larry greeted her, looking somewhat surprised, "What's going on?"

"Larry," she began, knowing she had to say it quickly. "We think Charlie has been kidnapped." Megan let the information sink in, noting Larry's shocked expression. "We got an email with a number on the bottom, I thought maybe you or Amita could figure it out."

"When? How? Why?" Larry didn't seem to know what to ask first.

"We don't know too much," Megan stepped closer, trying to give some support to her friend. "The number on the picture was '840'. Talk to anyone Charlie might've worked with. Maybe it would mean something to someone."

Larry nodded silently. Looking like he was still trying to grasp what had happened to his good friend.

1001

Don felt like banging his head against the car's window. He'd let David drive him to the office, leaving his car in his apartment since he felt too charged up to drive himself. He was so deep in thought and distracted with worry that the ring of his cell phone startled him.

"Eppes."

"Good morning, Donnie."

Don's instinct told him something was off. He didn't recognize the voice, and no one outside of his family called him that.

"Who is this?"

"Don't be impolite, Donnie-boy. I'll let it slide this time because of your brother. Poor guy, he's not very comfortable right now; probably hungry too."

Don's buttons were being pushed, and he knew it. He quickly signaled for David to pull the car over to the side of the road and call for a trace.

"To answer your question, Donnie, you can call me John." He continued, "Charlie does anyway."

"Let me talk to him." Don realized that his voice sounded harsher than he'd intended.

"Don't be impolite, Donnie," John repeated as if he were talking to a child.

"Please," Don said through clenched teeth.

"I'll call you back."

The click of the phone told Don that John had hung up on him.

"Anything?"

David shook his head. "We didn't have enough time."

Don closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his hand wearily over his face. He could feel a headache coming on.

1010

Charlie took a deep breath when he heard the door open again. He was beginning to worry about the extent of John's instability.

"We're going to play a game, Charlie." He could hear John rolling some equipment on the hard floor. "You see, I know what Donnie did to my brother, and now I need Donnie-boy to know what I'm doing to his brother. He's earned that right." John's words were full of venom, and Charlie had to take deep breaths to quell his fear. "So what I'm going to do is call your big brother and play some phone tag. Every time he makes a mistake, his little brother will pay, just like mine did. As long as he behaves himself, he gets to talk to you."

Charlie heard some computer equipment powering on and swallowed hard.

"Don't you talk about my brother, Charlie. I'm warning you, you'll regret it if you do." Charlie believed him. He didn't have a doubt that this man was unstable enough to do things even crazier than what he had done so far.

Charlie closed his eyes and counted heartbeats, waiting.

"Eppes." Charlie heard his brother's voice on speaker. He had never been this happy to hear that familiar voice.

"Don." Charlie's voice came out a little hoarse, and he attempted to clear his throat.

"Charlie?" Don asked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Charlie kept his answer short. He felt like he was about to break down and cry.

"What's going on?" Don's tone of voice was slightly higher pitched, and Charlie realized he was worrying his brother.

"John knows you're trying to trace this call and he's doing something to hide our location. A high-tech hide and seek sort of thing."

Charlie listened to John's typing on the keyboard, bracing himself for something bad to happen.

"What's the catch?" Charlie chuckled at Don's comment, and as he did, he heard John hit a button that didn't sound like a computer key. It took Charlie a fraction of a second to realize what was happening. His first thought as the electric shock went through him was that he was sitting in a metallic chair with metallic restraints, a very bad idea considering the electricity surging through his body.

If anyone would've asked him, he could've never described the pain, nor say how long it lasted. It seemed to go on forever.

When his pain started to subside, he realized that he was hearing himself screaming, but his voice sounded strange. Only after the fire in his veins dulled somewhat did he realize that his body had arched away from the chair in reflex to the intense pain and that the ring around his neck pushed into his larynx, weakening his voice.

The white fire slowly subsided into a dull pain throughout his body, and Charlie could finally take a mental stock of himself. The joints that were bound to the chair and had fought against it now felt bruised and raw, and his shoulder had started throbbing again. He was fairly certain that there was no permanent damage; all John wanted was to cause pain.

Charlie kept quiet, catching his breath.

"That was the catch?" Don's voice was shaky at best. Charlie knew that hearing his brother going through that was killing Don and hated that there was nothing he could do to change it. He wished he could touch Don right about now.

"Yeah." Charlie's voice still sounded odd.

"So what do I have to do so that won't happen again?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know where you are?" Don changed the subject. Charlie assumed Megan or David were steering them that way.

"An abandoned industrial building somewhere. I don't know where."

Charlie heard the button again and tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming, but he never got the chance. The blazing fire returned with a vengeance and seemed to last for another eternity. Charlie didn't want to scream. He didn't want Don to have to listen to that again, but there was nothing he could do to stop. It was beyond his control. His own choked, screaming voice sounded like white noise in the background of it all. He tried to ride it out as best he could. He tried to concentrate on anything except his body. Eventually, he tried to go where he once promised Don he would never go again. He hoped Don would understand. But even P vs. NP couldn't distract him from this pain as it had helped with the pain of his mother's illness.

Eventually the agony dulled again to a throbbing that seemed to go everywhere. Charlie took a deep breath and opened his eyes, unsure of when he had closed them.

"Don?" his voice was disappearing, fast, and he couldn't let that happen. He needed his voice to talk with Don.

"I'm here, Charlie." Don cleared his throat, but Charlie could tell how hard Don had taken the screaming he had heard.

"Its okay, Donnie; I'm okay." Charlie really needed him to know that. He needed him to be strong for their father. He needed him to be strong, because he had never seen him any other way.

"Did he give you any food or water?"

"Yeah, it's okay." He couldn't lie to his brother, but he would stretch the truth if he could. He knew it, and Don knew it.

"Say goodbye, boys." John spoke for the first time.

"Hang on, Charlie; we'll find you."

"I know you'll do your best," Charlie said, and the line went dead.

Charlie could hear John once again fiddling with his equipment.

He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his aching muscles to ease, submerging his consciousness in P vs. NP.

1011

Don wiped absentmindedly at his eyes. He was extremely tired, but didn't dare go to sleep. He knew what he would dream about, and he wasn't ready to face it just yet. Besides, Charlie needed him.

The rest of his team each left to do their assigned tasks and gave Don some time to himself to go over case reports. The office around him was relatively quiet since everyone was unsettled by what they had heard Charlie go through.

Don buried his head in his hands. It had been five minutes since the connection with Charlie was severed, and he couldn't get his brother's weak voice or his agonizing screams out of his head. He knew they would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He felt like banging his head against the wall again. There were no forensic evidence at the house, no witnesses, no information on the e-mail, no trace, and he doubted there would be much on the tape. He didn't even know how long Charlie had been gone. They were assuming he'd been abducted sometime in the evening when no one was home, since Alan would've been awakened by the noise from the breaking door, but they just didn't know for sure. All Don could do was go over the files of cases Charlie had worked on, hoping to find someone with a grudge against them all.

Don sighed when his cell phone rang. He felt like throwing the phone out the window after the last conversation he had and never use it again, but right now it was his only link to his little brother.

"Eppes."

"Don? You don't sound very well." Don knew that Alan could always read his sons.

"We… we got a call from the kidnapper, and I talked with Charlie." Don wanted to reassure his father but couldn't find the strength to hide his exhaustion and worry over the conversation he had. "He said he's okay."

"And?"

Don knew Alan needed to know everything that had happened to his youngest son, but he couldn't bring him self to tell him what he had heard.

"He's okay, dad. I talked with him; he sounded okay, considering. We don't have anything more right now." Don put his best effort into sounding convincing.

"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"Dad –"

"I'm a grown man, Donnie." Alan cut him off. "I don't like it when my sons hide things from me, or the fact that you think you should. This is the last time I'm going to have this conversation with you. Tell me what's happening to my son." Alan didn't raise his voice, but his message came through loud and clear.

Don knew his father was right; he didn't have the right to keep this from him.

"He's in pain, Dad. I don't know what's happening to him, and we don't have any leads." With those words, Don felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"I know you'll do everything humanly possible, and you will find him."

Don sighed heavily. "That's what he said."

"Well, you should listen to him. He is a genius you know." Alan got a small smile from Don, though neither of them felt any better. "You sound exhausted."

"I can't sleep."

"Try and rest. You won't do him any good if you're too tired to see straight."

Don knew his father was right, and somewhere deep inside he knew Charlie could hear the strain and exhaustion in his voice, and the last thing he wanted was for Charlie to worry about him.

"It's just…" Don didn't want to finish the sentence. He didn't want his father to know he was afraid to dream.

"What?"

"Nevermind, Dad. I'll sleep soon." Don sighed deeply. He knew he couldn't get out of this conversation otherwise. "I promise; I'll come home, we'll have a meal together and I'll get some sleep."

Don said goodbye to his father and rubbed at his eyes again. He was exhausted.

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