Never, never, never, never give up

111100

November 4th

"Agent Eppes," AD Merrick called from across the bullpen. "We need to talk." He indicated the conference room.

Don followed his boss into the room and closed the door behind him. It had been a week since Charlie had been abducted. Seven days in which Don's world had turned upside down. He hoped Walt Merrick wasn't about to bring up the shrink again. He didn't have time for that.

"I wanted to talk to you before I assign you a new case. I-"

Don cut him off, startled. "You're not taking me off Charlie's case?"

"Please listen to me." Agent Merrick spoke softly, something Don didn't expect. "There was a bank robbery. I need a good team on the scene. I'll do what I can to make sure it won't take too much time out of you, but I need you to do this today. Two people were killed."

Don nodded reluctantly. He knew Merrick was doing what he could to help him within his limitations. "We'll take care of it."

111101

"How was dinner?" John asked as he walked into the living room. Charlie was lying on the couch, notebook at hand. He was trying to do whatever John wanted and move as little as possible to cope with the pain. The daily assaults left him aching all over. He had no idea where the pain was emanating from anymore.

"It was good." Charlie couldn't remember what he'd eaten.

John grabbed the remote and sat back on the sofa. "What are you working on?"

"Cognitive emergence theory," the mathematician answered automatically.

John turned on the evening news and Charlie prayed they wouldn't run his missing person's notice again.

"What's that all about?" Charlie looked up at John, seeing the TV screen from the corner of his eye.

"It's a mathematical application of neurons processing in the brain." Charlie recited his declared statement. In truth, he was working on a way out.

"How long will it take you to figure it out?"

Charlie smiled for a second. "A lifetime."

John laughed, sending shivers up Charlie's spine.

"… On recent news, an armed robbery took place today in the LA branch of the San Francisco Federal Bank, killing two and wounding seven. Federal agents on the scene have…"

The news anchor was speaking in the background, and neither one of the men in the room was listening. John was looking away from the TV, and Charlie tried to keep it that way. But the mathematician couldn't hide his surprise as he saw familiar faces on the TV screen. First it was Colby. Then Megan and David and finally, he saw Don. Charlie saw his brother order his team as he had seen him do many times before, but today it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His eyes were transfixed on the screen until John interrupted. "No!" John yelled and threw the remote at the TV, smashing the screen to pieces. "He's gone!"

Charlie tried to stay unnoticed. Too scared to move, he stayed as quiet as he could.

John looked at him, visually considering his next move. As he finally made a grab for him, Charlie prepared himself for what was about to happen. He wasn't sure how one prepared himself for torture, but figured that was what he was doing.

And then it came.

111110

November 5th

Charlie was sitting in the wheelchair next to his bed, his notebook resting against the armrest. He was thankful he had passed out before the worst had come, but he knew he hadn't been spared. John had concentrated on his legs for some reason, and now Charlie sat in the wheelchair simply because it was the least painful position.

There were several bruises and boot prints across his legs and lower body, but his biggest problem was his knees, which had taken the brunt of John's anger. Charlie couldn't tell what the injury was, but he was sure he'd be bound to the wheelchair for weeks - the level of his discomfort and difficulty moving indicating that recovery would take a while.

Charlie passed his good arm over the armrest, feeling the chair's cold metal with distaste. It was a new prison, smaller than the room he was locked in, different than the leash around his neck. It was another restraint that he now couldn't live without.

He leaned his head back in the chair as he thought about what he'd seen last night with a smile. Don had looked tired, and Charlie knew he was the likely reason for his brother's distress. But despite the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his form, Charlie thought his brother looked great. He wished he could've seen his father as well.

The mathematician turned his attention back to his notebook, adding his observations from the last few days to his calculations.

111111

Don studied his reflection in the mirror. He was surprised by how haggard he looked and ducked his head to wash his face in the sink. He hated the guy he saw in front of him, and considered punching the image just to vent his anger. He knew that his chances of finding Charlie were diminishing with every passing minute. Nine days had already passed and any clues his brother's abductor might've left behind were disappearing.

The agent splashed his face with cold water again, trying to control the anger John provoked in him. As an FBI agent he had solved many cases and helped many families, but he couldn't help his own. His father, his baby brother… himself. He hated himself for his failure. He hated himself for all the bad words that'd been said and all the good ones he had kept inside. He hated himself for not hugging Charlie more, for not laughing with him more, for not watching him more when he was filled with excitement as he explained math to someone.

Don's little brother was never as cocky as he was smart. He didn't tell people he was a genius - that he was special - and Don had always appreciated that about him. At some point in their lives, Charlie had realized that his brother liked it that way and had stopped telling him about things that had to do with his work. It was only recently that Don realized that his younger brother had won prizes he had never told him about, praises he had never boasted about. Don had only realized, after his brother's kidnapping, that the mathematician had consulted on some big projects and was highly appreciated as a consultant by some very important people. Over the past week, Don had been getting calls from people he had only heard about in the past. He was beginning to realize that the level of cases Charlie had been helping him with was small stuff compared to what he was accustomed to. Don was becoming more and more proud and honored to have Charlie for a brother and a friend.

Don washed his face again. He really hoped those phone calls would stop soon. He was amazed that the CIA or the DEA were finding his brother so valuable, but every time he had to tell some high ranking official that he had no news for him, he felt even more like a failure.

1000000

November 6th

Charlie leaned back in the kitchen chair as John was serving the meal. He looked at his food distastefully. The less he ate, the less his body protested the mistreatment with the pain of hunger. He had gone over 24 hours without food and it didn't hurt as much as he knew it should've. He was never a big eater, and it didn't take a lot for his body to get used to his current situation. Charlie was very aware of the fact he was starving. He could already see the weight loss in the mirror and it scared him.

He eyed John for a moment and then returned his gaze to his food. He had had to be carried to the kitchen again, a thing John seemed delighted to do. Charlie was surprised to feel a tear sliding down his face and whipped it away with his good hand quickly.

The young mathematician closed his eyes. His face was badly swollen and it hurt to keep them open for too long. He tried to conjure an image of his family into his mind. The more time went by and the life he had been used to living became more distant, the harder it was for him to get a clear picture.

"Aren't you hungry?" John asked innocently, dragging Charlie from his thoughts.

"Yeah." Charlie opened his eyes and picked up the fork. It took him a second to hold the utensil well enough to use it, since his movement was hindered by his injuries. His abductor looked at him piteously and Charlie had to force himself to concentrate on his food.

1000001

"Hey, buddy." Don walked into his brother's living room.

"Don." Charlie was surprised to see his brother. The surprise was instantly replaced by alarm which rapidly turned to panic. "You can't be here."

"Why not?" Don asked with a smile. "I thought I'd come to watch the game with you."

"John will find out." Charlie stood back from his brother. "He'll beat me again. I can't do it anymore. Please go away." He backed away into a wall. "Please," he said with no voice. "Leave me alone," he cried. "Please."

Charlie woke up panting. Still feeling tired, he closed his eyes again, hoping he wasn't bleeding from the new cut on his back.

1000010

"Eppes," Don answered his office phone abruptly.

"This is Malcolm Fish. You asked me to call if I found out anything more about your packages," the caller said, hesitating.

Don allowed himself some hope for a second. "Yes?"

"You received another delivery three days ago. It was sent from our branch in Carmel by John Eppes. Is that helpful?"

Don, who knew he had scared Malcolm when they had first met, tried to sound happy and stress free. "Very. Who do I talk to there?"

"Martha Billing," Malcolm replied. "She'll be expecting you."

"Thank you, Mr. Fish." Don hung up the phone and slowly let go of the breath he'd been holding. "David," he called out. "We're taking a road trip."

1000011

Alan sat on his back porch, enjoying two cups of coffee and the cool weather with Larry.

"Has there been any news?" Larry asked his friend's father.

"Nothing. Or, at least, nothing Don wanted to tell me." Alan shared a brief, knowing smile with Larry. They both knew Don would be reluctant to tell his father anything besides the news that said Charlie had been found.

"He's protecting you."

Alan sipped his coffee and considered Larry's statement for a second. "I think he's protecting himself," Alan said honestly. "I can't say I blame him."

Larry mused, "Those two have an interesting relationship."

"Things are pretty good these days. It hasn't always been this way."

"I know."

Something about the way Larry said that caused Alan to look at him curiously. "I have a feeling there's a story behind that," Alan said with a small smile.

"After Charlie's first semester in my class, I asked him to come and see me." Larry traveled down memory lane. "I saw potential in his work and I wanted to talk to him about it. Of course I had no idea how old he was, I thought he just looked young." Alan chuckled, knowing Charlie had gotten a lot of interesting reactions from people. "When I told him I thought he was good with numbers, he looked really amused." Larry smiled, his voice slightly pitched. "I had no idea what was going on." Alan started laughing with the physics professor.

"Talk about stating the obvious."

"That's what he said." Larry leaned in as if he was telling a secret. "After I found out how old he was and about the circumstances that brought him to CalSci, he mentioned that a lot of people react badly when they find out."

"Yeah." Alan sighed. "He's had some problems with that." He took a moment to consider what Larry was saying. "Especially with Don. They had it rough for a while."

"I got that impression - did something happen?" Larry asked the question he'd been wondering about ever since he had first gotten to know the young Charlie Eppes.

"Don became a teenager." Alan chuckled. "And in a true teenage way, he lashed out at his little brother." He took in a deep breath, trying to keep his voice level while remembering those problems. "Charlie didn't go to school with kids his own age and a lot of his confidence and socialization involved his brother. So when Don got to that age, he…" Alan sighed, rubbing at his face. "The more attention Charlie got from people, the more Don gave him a hard time. If you would've told me back then that they'd work together the way they do, I would've laughed." He smiled lovingly. "It's so good to see them now."

"I got the feeling there was a lot of anger there."

"From Charlie? I would assume so. He was always aware of the fact that he was different and it was really hard on him as a child. Don just reminded him on daily basis." Alan did his best to forget the awful fights his sons had had, causing Charlie to close off for days and Don to try and get away from him, only isolating Charlie more.

"He still seems uncomfortable with it." Larry sipped on his coffee.

"For him, being as smart as he is didn't mean being unique, it meant being different… unusual. Kids called him names - including Don - and he agreed with them. He knows now that it's a good-different not a bad-different, but I think that on some level he doesn't completely differentiate between the two." Alan looked at his son's quirky friend hoping he, of all people, would understand. He knew that somehow he never had.

"He's getting there." Larry commented after some thought. "And Don's helping him do that."

"Yeah." Alan smiled. "They're doing better than ever."

1000100

November 7th

"NO!" Charlie woke up screaming. He felt the fear from the dream, but he couldn't remember what he had dreamt about, only that it involved Don and that it was violent. And that John had been there.

He sat up in bed, still breathing heavily from the dream, his hands sweating despite him being cold. Charlie looked at the wheelchair in disgust. He wanted to go to the bathroom, which was only a few feet away, but every movement hurt and the voyage to the bathroom was excruciating at times.

He took a big breath and started his efforts to get from the bed to the chair. His knees still protested the little he moved them, and he barely got through what he had to do. Charlie had stopped keeping track of his cuts and bruises - it seemed that there was always something getting bruised and he had learned to ignore the sore areas. The cuts were harder to ignore and he suspected that John knew that when he made them. His back now supported quite a number of slices in different stages of healing.

Finally getting into the chair, he used his hand to lift his legs onto the leg rests. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his father.

1000101