-1Obsession

Disclaimer: See Prologue

A/N: You guys are just amazing!! Thank you so much for your reviews.

Spoilers: "Structural Corruption"

Chapter 26:

The big cat ripped another chunk of hide from the deer with his massive jaws and chewed the meat slowly. P-1 stood up on all fours as he swallowed the last bite and moved away from the carcass. His appetite now sated he sat down and began to clean the blood and flesh from his paws. Slowly and methodically he licked first one paw and then the other.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the vultures move in to finish off the remains of the deer. The hungry birds had been anxiously waiting to finish off the remainder of his kill but had kept their distance until he moved away from it. All except one of them, that one had gotten too close to him while he was eating and now joined the carcass of the deer, a mistake that none of the bird's companions appeared eager to repeat.

The cat froze with one paw in mid-air as a strong breeze danced around him. His head swiveled into the wind, and he lifted his nose as he sniffed the air. There were intruders in his territory…. he could smell them.

His curiosity piqued, he rose up gracefully and started forward, padding softly and purposely along the dry, rocky terrain.

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At first the trail was easy for him to follow, but with the waning light the Professor's tracks were becoming harder to see. Reluctantly, Bashere made the decision to discontinue his search until the morning. The search would be more desperate tomorrow because he was sure that Don Eppes and the FBI would arrive at first light and then it would be a race to see who found the professor first. "Don Eppes." he thought darkly, "the bane of all of his problems. He should have killed the man when he had the chance. Fool." he called himself. "The first time in his life that he let himself become emotional and look where it had landed him. Well, he wouldn't make that mistake again, no sir, the Professor would have to accept his terms now and if Don Eppes crossed his path again it would be for the last time."

The important thing now though, was to find some type of shelter for the night and another glance at the sun told him he was running out of time. He continued to walk slowly along the trail, only this time he was paying closer attention to the terrain. There were many chaparral and low lying shrubs lining the trail but he dismissed any thought of camping out beneath them. He needed a place that was protected on a least three sides….he needed a place where he could only be approached from one direction….he needed…. "that might work." he mused when a large outcropping of rock caught his eye.

He left the trail and climbed to a group of rocks. One in particular had a twenty foot recess and a slight overhang. Tossing his duffel bag into the opening he quickly began a search for wood that he could use to build a fire. Fortunately for him there was an abundance of firewood all around the area and by the time that dusk had fallen he had collected a stack of wood that he was satisfied with and he piled the majority of the wood inside his little cave. Quite a few pieces were really large and would burn for a long time. He placed some of the wood in a straight line that stretched across the opening but leaving a few feet between the pile and his shelter so that the smoke wouldn't enter his area. Bashere pulled the small twigs that he had collected from the duffel bag and placed them between the stacks of wood and pulled out a handful of one hundred dollar bills that he had gathered at the crash site. He stuck them in between the twigs and finally pulled his lighter out of the duffel bag and just as darkness descended, Henri flicked on the lighter and the bills burst into flame. The dry twigs began to burn immediately and soon Bashere's sanctuary was protected by a wall of flame.

Henri grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of peanuts from the bag and stretched out to get more comfortable. His eyes drifted to the darkness behind the flames and his thoughts turned to the young man that he had become so enamored with. Perhaps Charlie would see the firelight as a welcoming beacon and come up to join him. Henri could keep him safe, the mountains could be a dangerous place at night, especially if you were hurt. He tossed a few more pieces of wood along the fire to make it burn brighter. "Yes, Charlie would see it and join him."

Bashere's eyes reflected the light as he eagerly continued to peer out beyond the flames and into the darkness.

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Charlie wearily bowed his head and with both hands he gently kneaded the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. At this point he wasn't sure what had caused his neck and shoulders to become so stiff and sore. It could have been any number of things. For instance; the plane crash or his slide down the ravine, the climb up the tree or even the struggle with the men at the house. Probably a little of all of them, he thought ruefully as he peered out between the leaves of the surrounding branches.

The darkness was not complete; millions of dancing lights flickered in and around the tree. There were swarms of lightening bugs out for their evening romp but their constant flickering had him seeing spots before his eyes and he had to blink several times to clear his vision. The sounds of the woods were both soothing and unnerving. The constant hum of the insects and the croaking of the frogs seemed to be in perfect harmony with one another. Their sounds blended together in a peaceful, melodious tune, punctuated by the dulcet tones of the night birds calling out to one another from their lofty perches among the tree tops. They were lulling him to sleep, his heavy lids began to close as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk and despite his best efforts to stay awake he began to fall asleep.

The serenity of the moment was suddenly shattered by a loud "hoot" and Charlie's eyes snapped opened in alarm. Another nerve-racking hoot resonated from somewhere overhead and he twisted around on the branch until he spied two large eyes glaring at him from a smaller branch a few feet above him. It was still too dark to see the outline of the owl, giving the eyes a disembodied appearance; as if they were floating in the air above him. It was rather disconcerting the way that the bird's eyes would tilt first one way and then the other while it studied him. Suddenly, without any warning, the owl abruptly rose into the air. Charlie jumped in surprise but felt a sense of relief that the large bird had decided to look elsewhere for his evening meal.

Charlie continued to stare upward, relieved that the large bird had decided to fly away but he jumped again a few seconds later when a sudden cry erupted from out of the darkness. His heart began to hammer in his chest as the terrified cry of a small animal continued to wail through the trees. Silence descended just as abruptly and he strained to hear any other noises . The gentle rustling of the leaves as the breeze glided through them was the only sound to be heard. He swallowed thickly as the bile rose in this throat; it appeared that the owl had found it's dinner.

The thickness in his throat had him fumbling for one of the water bottles that he had stuck in the pocket of the jacket. He drank sparingly of the warm liquid, wanting to make it last as long as possible. He only had two bottles left and he wasn't really sure what tomorrow was going to bring.

He moved around on the branch. It was still too dark to see anything but the breeze had brought with it an odor of smoke and he shifted his position so that he could face into the wind. The smell was faint so the fire was still a good distance away. From his lofty height, he could see a faint glow coming from a high point on the mountainside.

"Bashere." he thought grimly. The man was certainly persistent, no, obsessive would better describe the man and unfortunately the Frenchman was fixated on him. Charlie just couldn't figure the man out, at times he was exactly the arrogant person that he remembered from their first encounter, cold, calculating, and controlling. Yet, there had been a few times on the plane where he seemed to be someone else or he was trying to be someone else. At times the man had appeared to have real feelings toward him. That thought sent a shudder through his body but it certainly would explain some of Bashere's odd behavior.

Charlie settled back against the tree and crossed his arms, mulling over the events of the day. His heart ached when he thought of his family and what they must be going through right now. They had no way of knowing if he even survived the crash or what his condition was. If only he had a cell phone he could ease their minds and his too, he realized. He knew that the plane had collided with a vehicle on the runway and he had no doubt that it was Don's SUV. What if he or one of the team had been hurt? It was going to be a long night for him, with no way of knowing if Don was okay or injured.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought of his brother. Bashere's sudden assault had driven all rational thought from his mind and he had reacted out of desperation, asking Don for his forgiveness if he took his own life in order to free himself from the Frenchman. Charlie didn't have to close his eyes to see the anguish that had been in his brother's dark eyes when he granted him that forgiveness or the tear on his cheek when he begged Charlie to wait and give him a chance to rescue him first.

He had come to all of the wrong conclusions and his solution to the problem was terribly flawed… he could see that now. He owed Don an apology and he desperately wished that he had a way of telling him that he was sorry for putting him in that position. He had been so wrong to even consider suicide as an option, he knew now that he could never take his own life.

Charlie remembered Finn Montgomery, a former student at CalSci, and how devastated the boy's parents had been when the young man had killed himself . He remembered the pain and anguish that they had suffered and that it would probably remain with them for the rest of their lives.

Sighing, he realized what a selfish act that would have been and the terrible effect it would have had on his family if he had followed through with it. He loved them far too much to put them through that kind of anguish.

Charlie leaned back against the tree and relaxed. "No," he thought grimly and clenched his teeth. "If I die tomorrow it will not be from my hand ….but I will not go down without a fight… I will not be taken prisoner again."

In the distance he could hear a pack of coyotes howling to one another but they didn't frighten him, he was safe enough, hidden in the branches of the old oak. No, there was only one predator that he feared this night and it was not one that was normally found in this domain.

He glanced up at the night sky and quietly rejoiced at the appearance of the stars, the moon would soon follow and brighten the dark sky.

Charlie hooked his arm around the small branch and shifted his position again to make himself more comfortable . Lifting his eyes to the sky he lost himself in the multitude of patterns that the stars were forming as they began to dot the horizon.

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Don stood on the porch of the ranger station and watched the taillights of his SUV disappear into the darkness. He had finally convinced his team to go to the nearby diner and get something to eat. They were at a standstill anyway until Stendhauser got back to them with more info.

The agent checked his watch again and let out a sigh; 10:30 and he still hadn't talked to his father. Reluctantly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped it open to checked his missed messages. Alan had called four times since the kidnapping, but Don had been too busy to answer them, three of them he noted were after the news broadcast. He clenched his jaw wishing that the reporter was within reach of his fist. Even if it meant another session with Bradford, he didn't care, it would be worth it to deliver a right hook to the man's chin..

He was stalling, he realized, partly because he knew how hard his news was going to be on his father and partly because telling him would force Don to admit to himself that Charlie's chances of surviving were extremely low. He stubbornly set his jaw and reinforced that little spot in his heart that kept him believing that his brother was still alive.

Don knew that even though it was late his Dad would still be waiting by the phone …….waiting for him to call and tell him about Charlie.

Taking a deep breath he pressed the speed dial button and hoped that he would be able to do this. He needed to prepare his father for what might happen in the morning; for the possibility ….no, that wasn't going to happen...he had to believe that there was still a chance.

The phone was answered before the first ring had a chance to finish.

"Donnie!" the anxious voice of Alan Eppes called out over the airwaves.

"Hey Dad." Don responded quietly.

"Did you find him…..is he okay…..where can I meet you?" Alan began a rapid fire of questions, breathlessly going from one to another before Don even had a chance to answer the first one.

"Listen…Dad…I…"

"Donnie, I need to know….was your brother on that plane that crashed? I saw it on the news and I was going to come down but I wanted to talk to you first…find out if it was true….only…only I saw your face…and…I wasn't sure where to find you."

"Dad!" Don finally had to raise his voice to interrupt the flow of questions. He knew his father was consumed with worry and he felt miserable because he didn't have any good news to tell him.

"Listen, please…this isn't easy for me to say." He paused to swallow, choking back the fear that was growing within his breast.

A gasp echoed over the phone and then…."No…oh, God, no….he's not ….!"

Don stopped this line of talk quickly. "Dad, calm down, we don't know anything yet." he had to cough to clear his voice. "Listen to me, there are only a few things that we do know for sure."

Total silence greeted him on the other end of the line.

"Dad, dad are you there?" Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, suddenly afraid that his father was having a heart-attack.

A shaky voice finally responded. "I'm all right son. Please go ahead and tell me what you do know."

Don absently rubbed his hand through his hair as he sat down on the steps of the ranger station.

"Dad, Charlie was on that plane. The security tape from the airport showed him being carried on board." he said. "And it's my fault that the plane crashed…I may have killed my brother." he thought to himself, not ready to share those terrible words with his Dad, not like this, not over the phone. "The plane didn't explode on impact, so there is a chance that he could have survived. We know that some of the men that took him are alive because they fired on the helicopter, but you know that from the news broadcast."

Alan's forlorn whisper only intensified his own anguish. "What happens now?"

"Tomorrow, at daybreak, I'll take a swat team and a medical unit up to the cliffs." he paused , his voice choking with emotion. "After that… well …we won't know that until we get up there." Don sighed and took a deep breath, this was so hard o say. "Dad, any survivors …or bodies…that we find will be taken to Malibu Memorial Hospital in Hermosa Beach. The hospital is on alert to expect casualties at daybreak. Look, I'll call you as soon as I…as soon as I find him, I ..I…promise." he stammered softly.

"Donnie, you be careful when you get up there." Alan's voice cracked but he continued. "I want both of my sons to come home."

"I'll be careful Dad." his voice choked up. "Good night."

"Good night son." Alan whispered back.

Don closed his phone and slid it back into his pocket. He remained seated on the steps and looked up at the night sky. The moon had finally risen and hung high above the silent mountain, it's light illuminating the darkness.

If Charlie had survived the plane crash then at least he wouldn't be in total darkness, maybe that moonlight would help him survive the night. If he was uninjured, if he could get away from Bashere, if he could avoid the local wildlife. So many if's, so many obstacles in his path and so long until morning. Don checked his watch again; it was only 11:00 p.m..

His heart cried out to his brother, he needed to be up there on that cliff top with Charlie, right now, not in the morning, and having to wait until then was tearing him up inside.

Don leaned forward and rested his head in his hands as the despair that he had so desperately been fighting washed over him.

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The acrid smell burned his nostrils as he lay hidden beneath the chaparral bush. P-1 stared at the man-creature through the burning flames. He had learned long ago to be wary of these creatures and a singed paw from an old encounter with them had taught him to stay away from the dancing lights.

Curiously, the cat stared at the eyes of the man. His eyes were all wrong and he smelled funny, different from the other men that he had seen. This one had no fear-smell to him, there was something wrong with this one….it was broken.

He studied it a little longer and then lifted his nose, sniffing at the wind. There was another smell on the air, one of more interest to him... blood. He rose to a crouch and with one last wary glance at the broken creature in front of him, he left to find the source of the smell.

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Alan turned off the phone and slowly set it down beside him on the old sofa. He sat unmoving, shoulders slumped with his hands lying limply in his lap; inwardly fighting to control the terror that was threatening to consume him.

He had been sitting in the garage when Don had called him. Somehow he felt closer to his youngest son out here. Maybe it was because Charlie spent so much of his time in front of the chalkboards that he kept here. Alan was surrounded by a multitude of equation covered chalk boards. His misty eyes drifted over the equations that Charlie had worked on and he could almost his son's curls bouncing up and down with his frenetic movements.

The present seemed to fade away and the past appeared in front of his red-rimmed eyes. Alan smiled sadly and remembered a bright-eyed, curly-haired five year old asking for a chalk board and chalk for Christmas. His big brown eyes had been full of excitement as he explained how he used one in his kindergarten class and that he really, really, really needed one at home so that he could do his numbers.

Alan shook his head as he remembered how amazed he had been that his little boy wanted that chalk board more than any toy that he had tried to distract him with. A bag of toy soldiers had only distracted him long enough for him to count them, even though his older brother had thought they were cool. His little feet had padded frantically from package to package, searching for that one gift that his heart had so desperately desired. Tears were on his lashes when he had finally turned to look up at his father. Alan remembered picking him up and carrying him to a large package that was leaning against the wall behind the tree. Charlie had squealed with delight and squirmed out of Alan's arms at the sight of it.

And that had just been the beginning, for not long after that, he needed another one. The equations became larger and more complex with each passing year and now his son surrounded himself with chalk boards and used his math in ways that Alan had never dreamed possible.

Unbidden, the present intruded on his memory and he gathered himself together and got to his feet. He shuffled through the back door and into the kitchen. His movements were automatic, his thoughts elsewhere, as he rinsed and refilled the coffee pot for the fourth time that evening.

The room was a disaster, still scattered with the preparations of the party and dirty dishes sitting on the counter The FBI forensics team had not allowed them to touch anything and the yellow tape was spread throughout the house. They were coming back in the morning so he had to leave everything as it was. The brew was almost finished before he realized that he had just been standing there. Sighing inwardly, he went in search of Amita and Larry, trying to decide how much he should tell them.

Alan pushed through the swinging door and paused with a hand on it. This room was worse than the kitchen. Broken dishes, and stale food littered the table. The cake with a piece cut out of the middle only made the hole in his heart ache even more. He forced his eyes away from it and with weary steps headed for the living room.

Amita had cried herself to sleep on the living room sofa with the pieces of Charlie's note and some rose petals clutched tightly in her hands. Somehow she had kept them hidden from the FBI team and he couldn't blame her. The blanket that Alan had covered her with had slipped off her shoulders and he gently bent down and pulled it back up again.

Larry also had fallen asleep, sitting up in the lounge chair near the couch, his cell phone in his hands waiting for Megan to call.

The TV was still on and as he watched a "Breaking News Banner " appeared on the screen along with a picture of Charlie. It appeared that the reporter had finally received confirmation from the FBI about Charlie's kidnapping. Alan numbly picked up the remote and switched off the television set.

Alan studied his friends momentarily before turning back toward the kitchen. He would let them sleep a little longer and then wake them up to let them know what Don had told him. He would leave it up to them to decide what they wanted to do because with or without them he was heading for Malibu Memorial at four a.m.

He silently retreated to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. He knew that he really should try and get some sleep…he was exhausted, but thoughts of what the sunrise might bring had him on edge. He picked up his coffee cup and quietly returned to the garage where he could still feel Charlie's presence around him.

Alan stopped in front of one of the chalk boards trying to picture that laughing five-year old once again and his fingers closed around a small piece of chalk. "It was amazing," he thought to himself, " how such a small inanimate object could hold so much meaning for him," but Charlie had used this piece of chalk and that made it precious to him. His shoulders sagged and chalk in hand he turned back toward the couch. He slowly sat back down on the old sofa and silently gazed at the equations on the chalk boards.

Alan's hand closed tightly around the piece of chalk as his belief that Charlie would come back to him began to crumble.

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Charlie woke with a start and his leg slipped from the branch that he was sitting on. He rubbed at his eyes and peered through the leaves at the ground beneath him trying to find out what had awakened him. Spotting nothing there, he nervously glanced upward to see if the owl had returned and let out a breath of relief when he noted the empty branch above his head.

The full moon provided ample light to see the open spaces around him except for the areas that were covered up in shadows. Shadows from other trees, rocks and hillsides….enough shadows for someone or something to hide from view.

He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and goose bumps began to appear on his arms. Something was near by …..something that he sensed was dangerous. Ever so slowly he raised his leg back up to the branch and carefully stretched it out beside his other one. Barely daring to breathe he concentrated on the trail below him and watched for any signs of passage. The wind rustling the leaves was the only sound the night was giving up but he knew something was there.