WYWH, Chapter 12: Father Knows Best

When Alan reached to grab Oswald and began demanding to know where his sons were, the poor boy slipped over the edge of panic again. For a moment he thought he was being punished for even considering bolting, after all the Eppes family had done for him. By the time Colby stepped forward, grabbed one of each of their arms and dragged the party to the edge of the sidewalk, under the shelter of a jewelry store awning, he had pulled it together somewhat.

"Oh, man," Oswald started, looking from Colby to Alan. "Am I glad to see you guys! You got any money?"

The question effectively silenced Alan but raised Colby's FBI hackles. "Why?", he asked, speaking roughly. "You in on this? You after ransom?"

Oswald tried to take a retreating step, but Colby tightened his grip on his arm. Oswald winced and paled, appealing to Alan. "No, no, man, you've gotta believe me! Me and Don have been looking for Charlie all day, and we got too close. They got us, too!"

Alan corrected his grammar automatically, before he knew he was going to do it. "'Don and I'".

Colby ignored him and continued to question Oswald. "If they got you, what are you doing here? And where's Don? Who got you, and how?"

As Oswald tried to fill in all the blanks, Colby eventually let go of his arm. Oswald spoke in circles, still too upset to think rationally, but his conclusion got some action. "So I hid in the monitor box, and then I found Don and Charlie but I couldn't get them out. Don sent me after you. We need money so we can take a cab back to the warehouse." Streetlights had come on by the time Oswald had bumped into the men, and now he looked at them worriedly. "We gotta hurry. They said they were going back there at midnight." He looked at Colby hopefully. "They probably want to take out the bodies under the cover of darkness, doncha think?"

Alan staggered as if he'd been hit. After Oswald had indicated Marshall Penfield was behind the whole thing, he had zoned out of the narrative for a while, stunned, but he heard that part clearly.

Colby saw him stumble and barked a command at Oswald. "Hold him!", he said, zig-zagging between pedestrians for the street. He stepped off the curb and started to raise his hand for a taxi when he noticed a middle-aged woman unlocking her parked car. "Come on!", he yelled over his shoulder, as he quickly ran to her, badge and ID in hand. He shoved it in her startled face and grabbed the keys from her hand. "FBI," he growled. "I'm commandeering this vehicle."

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The rough transport through the warehouse into the freezer had begun to awaken Don, and the chill inside had finished the job. He rolled over, wincing at the pain in his head and ribs, and thought he saw Charlie and Oswald lying nearby. He blinked until he was less dizzy and nauseous, and decided that it was only Charlie – the two images were beginning to merge into one. Don waited for his vision to settle, and wondered where Oswald was.

Charlie remained unconscious throughout being dragged to the freezer, and dropped roughly inside. Don had just managed to crawl across the floor to cradle his brother and try to wake him up, when Oswald banged on the door. Don carefully lowered Charlie back to the floor, wishing he had a jacket or something for a pillow. Painfully, he got to his feet and staggered to the door to answer Oswald. By the time he had decided the door wasn't opening, and had convinced Oswald to go for help, Charlie was starting to stir.

Don carefully lowered himself to the floor beside him again. "Buddy? Charlie?" He saw that Charlie was shivering, and again cursed his lack of a jacket. Knowing it was hardly enough to make a difference, Don rapidly stripped off his dress shirt and laid it over Charlie. A low moan escaped the younger man, and Don brushed at his hair, taking in the blackening eye, the obviously broken fingers on one hand and the cut fingers on the other. He also noticed again, as he had when he had first seen him in the warehouse, that Charlie was barefoot and both feet were covered in blood. "Ch-Ch-Charlie?", he prodded again, his own teeth chattering now that he had only his t-shirt for protection from the arctic air in the freezer. He rubbed at Charlie's arms through the thin material of his shirt to try to warm and stimulate him.

He felt enormous relief when Charlie's eyes began to flutter; and then concern, as he saw the dilated pupils and lack of focus. Did Charlie have a head injury, too? "Charlie…how do you feel, Buddy?"

Charlie stifled another moan and tried to maintain eye contact with Don, although it was obviously difficult. "Don?", he croaked. " 'Scold."

He was slurring, elevating Don's concern. "I know, Charlie. We're in some kind of refrigeration unit, but Oswald escaped. He got out, he's going after help." He spoke with more conviction than he felt, and smiled. "It's going to be all right, soon."

Charlie drew his feet up toward his chest a little and closed his eyes. "Feet…", was all he could manage, and Don realized that his feet must be – literally – freezing.

Sitting back a little, Don removed his own shoes, took off his socks and then replaced his shoes. Gently, he put the socks on Charlie's feet, noticing the cuts on the bottom. "What did they do to you?", he asked, not really expecting an answer. He was surprised when Charlie half-chuckled. "I did it," he confessed. "Stepped on glass." Charlie pried his eyes open again and tilted his head enough to look down at Don, who was still trying to put his own socks on Charlie's feet. He grinned a little wickedly before he slurred out more information. "Sat in glass, too. Can you kiss it, and make it better?"

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It was 10:15 when Alan, Colby and Oswald reached the warehouse. On the way, they had discussed notifying the police, but all three of them were concerned the bumbling fools would somehow make them regret it if they did. In the end, Colby reminded them that as a federal agent, he had jurisdiction everywhere. Alan and Oswald let it go at that.

As the only one who knew where he was going, Oswald had driven the commandeered vehicle. He committed so many traffic violations on the way, Colby was sure they'd end up with police on their tail anyway. Somehow, they avoided detection, however, and Oswald screeched to a halt outside the warehouse. Alan and Colby were out of the car almost before it stopped. Oswald ran past them, toward a door at the rear of the building. "This way," he called. "The freezer is back here!"

He started to turn the light on again, but Colby stopped him and produced a flashlight. "Don't want anyone to know we're in here," he reminded the young man. Then Colby considered his own words. "Better go move the car out back. We'll wait for you right here."

It turned out to be almost impossible to hold Alan back, now that he was this close to his sons, but Colby managed. "We don't even know where it is," he whispered frantically. "Just wait for a few more seconds!"

When Oswald jogged back inside, Colby breathed a sigh of relief, and he let the kid lead the way to the freezer. When they arrived, Alan started banging on the door immediately, yelling for Don and Charlie. Colby trained his flashlight on the touchpad for the sophisticated timelock and felt fear. They would never be able to get them out of here without blowing the thing up.

Inside, Don had laid down behind Charlie and wrapped his arms around him in an attempt to keep both of them warm. Charlie had been slipping in and out of consciousness, and Don's worry was increasing. When he first heard his father's voice, he smiled, thinking he must be unconscious himself, and dreaming. Then he heard Oswald, too, and his eyes opened wider in fear. Where was Colby? He couldn't believe Colby had let his Dad walk into this hellhole.

He turned his head toward the door and yelled. "Dad! Dad, you've got to leave! It's not safe!"

Finally he heard Colby's voice. "We've got some time, Don. Oswald heard them plan to meet back here at midnight. I've got to try and crack this code, and override the timelock."

Don's heart fell. He had gotten a pretty good description of the lock from Oswald earlier, and the two of them had tried everything they could think of. He didn't think Colby stood much of a chance. Besides, if he and Charlie were in here much longer, it wouldn't matter anyway.

While Colby tried code after code, both alphabetic and numeric, Oswald fed him suggestions and Alan tried to get information through the thick door. Charlie regained consciousness, and was alert enough to understand that a rescue attempt was underway, but he didn't have the energy to yell loud enough for his father to hear him. Don tried not to let his worry show in his voice as he glossed over Charlie's injuries when he described them. The professor had stopped shivering, and a lesser informed man might have been relieved. Don found himself in the uncomfortable position of knowing too much. Charlie's body had ceased trying to warm itself, and was settling into hypothermia.

For almost an hour, Colby tried everything he could think of, most of it twice. Finally, in mounting frustration, Alan called to Don. "Donnie, is your brother awake?"

Don, still holding Charlie in his arms, shook him a little and heard a quiet grunt. "I…I think so," he answered.

Alan's voice became a little louder, and contained the no-nonsense, "I'm-in-charge-here" tone that both of his sons instantly recognized. "Charlie! Charles Edward, I need you to tell me the most important thing in Marshall Penfield's miserable life, and I need you to tell me now! Don't make me ask you twice!"

Charlie stirred a little in Don's arms and mumbled into the floor. Even Don couldn't hear him, and had to ask him to repeat himself. "Me," mumbled Charlie, a little louder. "Wants my theory."

A light switched on in Don's head and he yelled at his friend and fellow agent. "Colby! Is there a limit to the number of characters in the word, or number?"

"Probably." It was Oswald who answered. "Statistically, most of these passwords are limited to seven characters."

Don thought a moment, and then felt a hope surge in his chest that he prayed wasn't unfounded. "Try 'cogemer'", he yelled. "For 'cognitive emergence'!"

When he heard Colby's "Damn it!" a few seconds later, Don lowered his head to Charlie's back and felt the hope replaced by a crushing feeling.

He didn't even pay attention when Alan yelled through the door. "We're trying 'cognitv'!" Don was sure he had drifted into unconscious again, and was dreaming the click that echoed in the freezer.

Until he saw the door swinging slowly open, and his father rushing joyfully at him.