Sorry for the long delay. Life and stuff, ya know. I will keep updating until this is finished, but I can't promise they will always be timely. This chapter takes place between Two Daughters and Pandora's Box. Hope you enjoy.

"You've worked with the Los Angeles Violent Crimes squad several times over the past two years," the man began in carefully measured tone. "What is your opinion of Agent Eppes?"

"My opinion of him?"

"As an agent. A team leader."

"He gets the job done. And he gets it done well."

Another man spoke, this one decidedly more determined, though it was hard to tell what toward. "He ever seem... aggressive? Unnecessarily forceful with a suspect or with his team?"

There was a pause before the answer came. "He seems passionate about the job."

Subtle glances were exchanged between all of the white-haired, business suit-clad, poker-faced men on the opposite side of the long rectangular conference table, and then a third speaker finally posed the question – albeit a strange variation of it - that he had been anticipating for the past hour of what seemed like a never ending inquisition.

"And just how much did that 'passion' influence his judgment during the case in question?"

"Agent Reeves had been abducted by a violent fugitive. As team leader, he was responsible for her safety." The reply was delivered calmly but firmly, leaving no room to doubt the rationality of their actions. Even if they had admittedly been desperate.

"So he shot Crystal Hoyle as payback for threatening a member of his team?"

That question threw the agent off guard; from the moment he'd received the official summons three weeks earlier, he had meticulously thought over every response to every question they would ask. Despite his unanticipated appearance before a full review board – he'd been hoping for nothing more than an informal inquiry, and had been sorely disappointed – the meeting had mostly gone as he had predicted, aside from the confusing preoccupation with Don Eppes.

From what his keenly trained observational skills could tell, one of the men on the board – Assistant Director Wright of the L.A. office – was trying to defend Eppes's actions. At least as much as he can without putting his own ass in the fire. Two of the others seemed to be neutral, only interested in conducting a standard review of a case that had, in many unfortunate ways, been anything but standard. But the remaining three – the big wigs, he knew – seemed intent on crucifying Agent Eppes.

And not for the reason he'd expected, which was why he suddenly found his practiced calm demeanor faltering as he mentally scrambled for an answer. He didn't have to worry too much about them noticing his unease; his stoic façade belied nothing, as always. But his quick wit wasn't doing him much good in this instance. Even he could hardly deliver a sarcastic quip to the directors of the FBI during a formal investigation.

Hell, he had even been reduced to wearing a damn suit.

He clenched his hand in his lap, resisting the urge to pull at the tie around his neck, as he finally offered the best response he could muster. "Sir, Crystal Hoyle was an armed and dangerous fugitive who destroyed a meth lab to steal the grenades she had in the car that she drove straight at our roadblock. Agent Reeves tried to convince her to stand down; I believe they developed some sort of... understanding... when she was held hostage. Hoyle was determined to die – and to take us with her. Someone had to take that shot."

"And why, exactly," one of the directors, the harshest, not-quite-shouted, "was that someone not you, Agent Edgerton?"

Shit.

One of the more neutral inquisitors spoke up next. "It does seem rather odd that Agent Eppes felt the need to take the shot with one of the top five best snipers in the country on the scene."

Ian wanted to remind the deceptively cheerful old bastard that he had moved up to fourth, but held his tongue as he deliberated how to answer that. So far, it looked as if he would get out of this unscathed. The board had been disturbingly unconcerned with his and Don's decision to beat information out of Hoyle's accomplice, even when he had admitted to them without hesitation what he had done behind those closed blinds. Sometimes it was better to offer up information willfully; any indication that he was holding back would be looked upon with suspicion. He hadn't held back, and he hadn't lied.

But he had a great respect for Agent Don Eppes, and he would be damned if he'd let the Bureau throw him under the bus for one slight error in judgment during a deeply personal case. And they do have a point. If Eppes hadn't shot Hoyle, I would have. A cold-blooded murderer was dead, which would have been the result no matter who pulled the trigger. Don had simply jumped the gun – literally.

Which, he suspected, was what the board was truly concerned about. It had concerned him too, the way Don had acted that day. The way he had steadfastly avoided discussing the incident with his team, his uncharacteristic defensiveness when Ian had shown up at his apartment and the argument they'd had that night. Ian didn't hold that against Eppes, and he never second-guessed his choice to visit Don before leaving Los Angeles. Because for whatever reason he considers me a friend.

And what the hell? I figure I owe him one for that case anyway. From what the review board had asked him, Ian suspected that Don's official report had severely understated the force he had used in his interrogation of Buck Winters.

"I was positioned several yards to the right of Agent Eppes. From where we were in relation to Hoyle's vehicle, and given the speed at which she was advancing on us, Eppes happened to have the clearer shot." God, I sound like his brother. Again.

Ian, despite his rugged emotional discipline and carefully controlled exterior, fought not to show any sign of nervousness as the members of the board scrutinized his answer. It wasn't exactly a lie. For anyone else, it would likely be true. A diagonal shot into a car window was often complicated by the car's frame, which was not only a visual obstruction but something even a high velocity round was unlikely to penetrate. But Ian was exceptionally skilled, even among the most talented and experienced of snipers. Of course, that also meant there were very few people the board could get to validate – or rather invalidate - his claim.

Professor Eppes and his voodoo could probably do it, but Ian suspected that even the timid mathematician would have the guts to stand up to the FBI if it meant protecting his brother. If he can stand up to me, he can stand up to anyone.

As a general rule, Ian Edgerton disliked bars. If he wanted to drink, he usually did it alone. And, aside from the occasional bottle of beer or glass of scotch, he only experienced such an inclination after a particularly frustrating case. Except, of course, for his unusually sociable experiences with Team Eppes.

Tonight was another rare exception, using a combination of alcohol and atmosphere to calm his frayed nerves. He suspected the inclination to drink was, at least for the most part, a delayed reaction to the frustration of the Crystal Hoyle case. After that incident, he'd immediately been drawn into another hunt, which had lasted the past nine weeks. The summons from the review board had been relayed to him in the field, which had instantly alerted him to the seriousness of the matter. No one bothered Agent Ian Edgerton when he was on a hunt.

As he always had when he was on a mission, he'd set aside any and all distractions from the previous case and focused solely on the task at hand. A psychiatrist would probably nag him with some inane babble about "repressing his emotions," but it had always worked for him. And, in his line of work, he couldn't often afford the effort of pondering over his feelings. But there were times that even he just needed to take a break and sort himself out. Since the review board had "offered" him a few days off, he'd decided this would have to be one of those times.

Unfortunately, he preferred to conduct his sporadic soul-searching in the wilderness, where he felt most comfortable being alone with his thoughts. It was familiar to him, even soothing. And if I ever think too much and lose it, I won't be able to hurt anyone.

The wry thought brought a bittersweet smirk to his lips as he pictured what Evelyn would say to that: "Don't be ridiculous, Ian. You're too much of a professional to kill anyone in a fit of rage." She was one of the few people who'd embraced his twisted sense of humor without batting an eye. Probably because hers was just as bad.

Because the powers that be had requested he stay in the area during his involuntary leave, Ian had settled for a late night at the bar. Not to socialize, but to observe. He tended to feel a bit suffocated when he wasn't on a hunt, practicing his skills. Sitting in a dark booth in the back of a crowded bar did at least give him the chance to observe people, which was one of the skills he most favored.

Along with his chameleon-like talent for blending invisibly into any environment. No one paid him any undue attention, and that was exactly how he liked it. He was a predator, hiding in the grass and capturing every sound, every movement, with the ears of a bat and the eyes of a raptor. The only thing that would make him more comfortable in this moment would be having a rifle in his arms.

Ian took another slow sip of his drink as he wondered what Eppes had felt when he lined up Crystal Hoyle's head in his crosshairs. Despite his conviction that all had ended as it should have in that case, there was a small, nagging part of him that wondered if the review board's concerns about Don might be justified. Ian had seen plenty of Agents either burn out or go dirty after too many years on the job, and Eppes had even admitted to him that his time in Fugitive Recovery had taken a severe enough toll on him to drive him back to regular field work.

Oddly enough, Ian found himself wishing that Don had opened up to him that night, rather than pushing him away. He hadn't heard anything about the team in the last nine weeks – other than a brief recognition, in the science and technology section of a newspaper he'd picked up, of some new mathematical application, designed by none other than Dr. Charles Eppes – and idly wondered how the rest of them had been affected by the fallout.

Wonder if Eppes even knows yet that they're looking to put his head on a pike. It was standard procedure during an inquiry into an agent suspected of severe misconduct for any other culpable parties to be questioned first, before the agent was informed.

As he finished off his drink, Ian wondered for the hundredth time why Eppes and his team mattered so much to him. He had been involved in cases with other teams that had gone horribly wrong, cases where inquiries had led to agents being dismissed from the bureau and, in one instance, brought up on felony charges.

He knew the answer was both simple and complex. The simple part was that none of those agents were Don Eppes. But, as much time as he had spent contemplating his bizarre relationship with that man and his team – and his family, to make things even more strange – Ian still could not define the emotional investment he seemed to have made in their lives. And the impact they had on his.

He was, by nature, a loner to the core, but Ian Edgerton was beginning to wish he could talk to someone about this whole situation. Not a damn shrink. If Evelyn were here- But she isn't. So you'll just have to deal with it.

He set his glass down and stood to leave, suddenly uninterested in the throng gathering for happy hour. He was halfway to the door when a soft feminine voice unexpectedly stopped him in his tracks.

"Agent Edgerton?"

He turned toward the voice, senses heightened, and was surprised to find a familiar face. "Agent Lake."

Huh... maybe there's someone I can talk to after all.

I know... "Gah! Cliffhanger!" But it had to be done. I originally planned to just skip straight to Pandora's Box after the review board (which is briefly mentioned in the episode, if you're wondering what's up with that) but the idea of Ian bumping into Terry just seemed too fun to pass up.