A/N: Slightly longer chapter here. This is where Charlie's lecture on pursuit curves is in the episode, but this works just as well.

"Changing" may be an understatement, Reeves. What the hell kind of To-Do List is going through this woman's mind? "Shoot my underage boyfriend's dad; rob a couple liquor stores; steal some cars; flee across the country; kill a salesman; blow up a meth lab."

Ian had seen felons do a lot of crazy things over the years, and while other agents may chalk the ludicrous crimes and pointless killings up to pure insanity, he generally believed that even the most irrational actions made some twisted sort of sense to the person committing them. And it was his job to determine precisely what that logic was, because understanding the inner workings of his prey's mind was integral to the hunt.

That, he knew, was the difference between him and Reeves. She used textbook psychological profiling to explain why a criminal did what he did. But to Ian, it was more of a sixth sense he had developed over the years, and it was something very deeply interconnected with his pursuit tactics.

Unlike the Professor, Agent Edgerton put a lot of trust in his instincts. He might even call it faith, in lieu of any similar confidence in a higher power. He mentally smirked. He would never actually bring it up to the mathematician, but when the other man got just a little too overconfident in the power of his numbers, the agent was sometimes tempted to point out that Charlie Eppes owed his life to Ian Edgerton's instincts. Your calculations were pretty close to finding that sniper's position, Professor. But my bullet was a hell of a lot closer.

Right now, standing in the doorway of the burnt out meth lab, Ian's instincts were telling him that Crystal Hoyle may be one of the most dangerous fugitives he had ever tracked. And that's saying something. She and Winters, who he was almost certain was simply along for the ride, seemed to have no discernible plan of action.

Their victims had switched from random to targeted and back again. They had moved on from convenience store robberies to blowing up meth labs. And Ian, frustratingly, had very little upon which he could base a supposition of their motives. Even his razor sharp, finely honed instincts were leaving him in the dark on this case.

Edgerton subtly took a few deep breaths, releasing some of the heightened tension he could feel building up in his muscles. Decades in the military and the FBI had made the calm front he always wore an automatic feature, needing absolutely no direction from his mind to be erected. But Ian was well aware that underneath that, and the sturdy barriers surrounding his deeper emotions, he had a hell of a temper. He made sure - for the sake of Eppes, his team, and the crime scene techs wandering around collecting evidence - that it was tightly reigned in before he moved away from the door frame.

A few steps inside the doorway, the edge of a boot print caught his eye. He crouched and lifted up the singed piece of wood on top of it to get a better view. He automatically catalogued the features of the print - size, tread quality, pattern of the sole – and allowed his photographic memory to match it up to other mental images of identical prints. For a math geek and a sniper, it's scary how alike the Professor and I are in some respects. He was just about to call Eppes over when Reeves came in behind him.

"Witnesses saw a male white and female white leave the scene in a Trans Am," she reported.

"Size nine work boots. See the star-shaped scuff on the in-sole? Buck picked that up between Kansas and Missouri," Ian added, in confirmation of what the team already knew. This was the work of his spree killers, which seemed more like a misnomer with every new crime.

Ian rose to follow Reeves as she continued to talk, glancing quickly around the ash-covered room for any more important clues.

"You know," she began, "Meth labs like to use users as workers, cause they can pay them in product."

"Lydia Campos?" Ian asked, easily latching onto her train of thought. "You figure she worked here, gave em the setup?"

"Right?" Eppes chimed in. "I mean they gotta have fifty to a hundred G's in cash around here. Double that in product."

Ian saw where they were coming from, and had to agree since they were following the evidence, but he also felt compelled to point out the discontinuity between Eppes's logic and his knowledge of his killers. For whatever the hell that's worth nowadays. "It's never been about the money before."

"Yeah, but drugs are what got Crystal arrested and sent back home. Maybe this was symbolic, or... retributive." Profilers...

"Or," Eppes yelled from the small crawl space he had stuck his head into, in a tone that told Ian he was definitely not going to like whatever he was about to say. "It's all about grenades. Hey, I got a whole cache of weapons up here, guys!"

Ian moved next to the step ladder Eppes was standing on and took a peak up into the section of space lit by the other agent's flashlight. He could discern several boxes containing various handguns and a few cases of ammunition before Don motioned for him to grab a crate he was handing down to him.

There were two very concerning features about this crate. The first was the lettering on the side that read: U.S. ARMY FRAGMENTATION GRENADES. The second was the fact that it was completely empty. Hell...

"Been awhile since I've seen one of these," Ian remarked, his dry wit emerging to cover the tinge of apprehension he felt about this shift in Hoyle's threat level. "Somehow, I get the feeling they weren't just using the empty box for storing canned goods."

"I need to report this," Eppes said, stalking out of the room. Megan looked a little perturbed at his sharp tone, but Ian understood perfectly well. It was easier for Eppes to show that he was pissed at the demanding turn the case had taken than it was for him to admit to his fear of all the damage Hoyle and Winters could do with a duffel full of contraband Army munitions.

Ian followed Eppes outside, where he'd found a quiet spot at the edge of the street to make his phone call to the Assistant Director. He could tell from his body language that the call was not going well. You can take that one, Eppes. Never liked reporting in to the higher ups. That's one nice thing about working on your own out in the wilderness. He waited for the other agent to finish his call before moving into Eppes's field of vision and quirking a brow in question.

Eppes ran a hand through his hair before answering, which Ian knew was a sign of his mounting stress. It was a habit the two of them shared. "He's gonna call in to D.C. to report the stolen weapons. That much firepower, who knows what the hell we could be looking at here? We need to find those grenades. Now."

Ian snorted. "You won't get any disagreements from me, Eppes. But they aren't exactly leaving us a map to their location. As much as your brother might argue otherwise." That got a small smile out of Don, but it faded almost instantly as he settled back into business mode.

"We pretty much agree at this point that they do have a plan though, right? I mean, if they just wanted to blow up a meth lab... I hate to admit it, but there are plenty in L.A. I think you and Megan are right about Lydia Campos giving them the setup, and about Pierce Brenner being somehow connected."

"Reeves thinks Hoyle might be on some kind of revenge kick," Ian told Don. "The meth lab hit does seem to fit into that. Why now, though? Fifteen years is a long time to wait to go on a killing rampage." Ian's brow quirked again. Especially with her complete lack of criminal history between then and now.

Don thought it over for a minute, and seemed to come to the conclusion that their hypothesizing, while helpful in confirming that they were still on the same page, was doing little to help them find Edgerton's killers. "Let's get back to the office. See if anything new has come up."

"What are Granger and Sinclair up to anyway?" Ian asked, hoping it was something useful. The other agent looked off to the side for a moment, and didn't reply. "Don?"

"Uhhh..." Oh hell, Eppes. Maybe he's not always such a great leader after all.

It had been a slow morning. Reports from the meth lab were still coming in, but so far there didn't appear to be anything particularly useful. Forensic science could tell you the who, what, where, when, and how of a crime, but figuring out where a perpetrator would go next? There was no test or machine or method for that. Unless you include the Professor's wacky algorithms.

Ian nearly lost it when he made it to the break room, craving his fourth cup of coffee for the day, and once again found the pot empty. And the cupboards empty. God damn it. Of all the god damn times to run out of coffee...

"Try not to hurt yourself there, bud. I already put in a requisition for more."

"Better get it quick, Eppes," Ian mumbled irritably. "How the hell does a federal office run out of coffee anyway?"

"Well, we usually restock once a week. But someone has been hanging around the last few days drinking it all."

Ian shot the man a look so deadly that he backpedaled and put his hands up to ward off whatever manic onslaught the caffeine-deprived sniper might throw at him. Edgerton sighed. Eppes laughed.

"So Charlie suggested I invite you to dinner at his place tonight. He has plans, so he won't actually be there, but my dad's in one of his Cook-a-Feast-for-Whoever's-Around-to-Eat-It moods." Ian shot him a bewildered look. Did Eppes just ask me to a family dinner or am I actually going insane from lack of coffee? "He figured you probably don't get many home cooked meals. And my dad's been wanting to meet the infamous Agent Ian Edgerton for awhile now."

Ian couldn't help but chuckle, which, combined with the fact that he was actually considering Eppes's offer, he took as a sign that he was indeed losing it. "Infamous, huh?"

Don smiled. "So? You in or what?"

Ian really had no personal experience with close family relationships. The type of bond the Eppes family obviously shared was so... foreign... to him. He knew he could never be comfortable in that setting, but part of him was also curious.

He had heard a great deal about Alan Eppes and their family home from Don, Charlie, and David. It seemed very warm and inviting, and it didn't take much to imagine the pleasant environment the Eppes brothers must have come from to have turned out the way they did. Not really my usual thing, but what the hell? The Professor has a good point; I'm always up for a good meal. Especially when I don't have to catch it myself.

"Sure, Eppes. Why not?" Ian gave him a genuinely grateful smile. It may seem odd to him that the two treated him like just another pal, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it. However... "On one condition though."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Get me some damn coffee."

Edgerton, now happily satisfied with the cup of steaming coffee in his hands, sat in the team's briefing room with Reeves and Eppes. They had tapped in to the surveillance devices trained on Lydia Campos, who'd had no contact with anyone in the hours since the hit at the meth lab. He was still itching to get back into the hunt, but at least the caffeine was curbing his frustrations, if only slightly.

Without appearing to do so, he was watching the interaction between Reeves and Eppes. At first, Ian had wondered if there was something going on there. But he saw no evidence of that between the two senior agents on the team. He knew Eppes was used to being the Big Brother and figured he probably felt that way about his entire team, not just Charlie.

Once in a while, Reeves would look over at him with mild curiosity, most likely wondering whether he was silently fuming at their lack of progress or was simply an unusually quiet person. Unlike Eppes, she treated him the way most people did: kept her distance, with a wariness that told him she had no idea what to make of him. Makes sense I suppose. People fear what they can't understand. All the standard profiling techniques go out the window with someone like me. It didn't bother him one bit that she didn't try to be his friend. As long as it didn't affect their ability to work together.

A low-pitched ringing from the speaker drew the attention of the three agents. Ian felt his pulse quicken, ever so slightly, when he heard Hoyle's voice on the other end of the line. There truly was nothing quite like the relationship between a hunter and his prey.

His interest was piqued at Hoyle's mention of a bag she had left for her friend. Probably money. Or drugs. Payment for her assistance in whatever the hell Hoyle and Winters are up to.

"The mailbox she's talking about is visible from the front door," David's voice piped in. "We go for it, she's gonna see us."

Ian caught the determined look in Don's eyes, and realized he was about to make a decision they might all regret. "She's still our best lead," Ian reminded him. And then added, more firmly, "We've gotta let her run."

A flash of disbelief shone in Reeves's eyes. "Yeah, and what if the bag that Crystal just left her is full of hand grenades?" Why the hell would she leave her a-

"I agree. I don't think we can risk it," Don added.

"Risk?! You wanna talk about 'risk,' what about letting these two run loose for even one more day?"

"Ian, there's no decision here. David, take it. Take the bag!"

Ian felt his temper rising closer to the surface, but he had enough experience to know that now was not the time to question Eppes. The decision had been made, and Ian would respect that. No matter how passionately he disagreed with it. He took a large gulp of his coffee. It wasn't as satisfying as it had been a few moments before, but it helped him temper the anger bubbling deep inside him. What the hell is it with this case, getting to me like this?

After a moment, David's voice floated from the speaker. "We've got her, Don. Colby's bringing her in now."

"What did Crystal leave her?" Don asked sternly.

"Looks like about ten thousand in cash," David replied after rifling through the bag. "And a few kilos of meth. No weapons."

Ian snorted quietly, but said nothing as Don gave David instructions to search Campos's apartment and then bring in the evidence. As he ended the call, he motioned for Ian to follow him into one of the adjoining conference rooms. Here we go...

Once they were alone in the room, Don took a seat and suggested Ian do the same. The sniper silently declined, instead leaning over the top of the chair across from Eppes.

"Look, Ian, I understand you're technically the agent in charge of the spree killer case-"

"Technically, Eppes?"

"But," Don continued over Ian's snort, "As soon as they hit this city they became my jurisdiction. And, for better or worse, my problem. I appreciate your position. I do. But I can't let someone else make decisions for my team."

"I know it's hard to accept, Eppes, but your guys can do their jobs without you looking over their shoulders." Ian paused, taking a small, silent breath to expel the trace of anger from his tone. "And so can I."

Don decided to ignore that, instead reiterating the justification for his decision. "We have no idea what Hoyle and Winters are planning to do with those weapons they stole. I can't take the risk of them-"

"And I say again. If you want to talk about risks, what about letting a couple of dangerous killers run loose in this city? If you're so concerned about what they're going to do with those grenades, I would think you'd want to bring them into custody as soon as possible!"

"Of course that's what I want, Ian. That's always what we want." Don leaned forward in his chair, running his hands through his hair and then over his face. "Look, I made a call. I still think it was the right one. We'll just have to go with what we've got. Maybe Megan'll get something from Campos that we can use."

"Yeah, maybe then this case will start making some damn sense," Ian said in more agreeable tone. For now, their argument seemed to be settled. Or at least set aside.

This is why I hate calling in favors.

David: "You ever get the feeling everyone's forgotten about us?" Colby: "I get that feelin a lot." Don really did forget about you in my version. Sorry, boys. And (spoilers) Don's insistence on making the decisions kind of came up on its own as something that's going to come back to bite him in the ass in Two Daughters, but I remember now that he discusses that issue quite heavily with his shrink a few episodes later. So I guess that was either unconsciously in my mind from the episode or just a good call on my part.