CHAPTER 17
Sorry this took so long. My muse went on vacation right when I needed to line up some plot points carefully, and that resulted in a long delay. Good news is, the next chapter is almost written as well.
BULL PEN, FBI OFFICE, 28 DAYS AFTER THE ARREST
David took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair. "So, I just got back from meeting with Sam Lobell's lawyer. Apparently he wants to talk, but there are strings attached. Lobell's still heavily medicated and pretty unstable. His lawyer wants the AUSA to sign a stipulation that we agree anything he says will be inadmissible in court, and we agree not to attempt to present it as evidence."
"Better than nothing," said Liz. "Do we even really care about prosecuting him?"
David gave her a small smile and shook his head. "They also want the file sealed under witness protection so that there's no way Traxler Lobell's defense attorneys or his associates can learn that he talked to us. It'll restrict how we're able to go forward if he gives us a name."
"Well –" Colby shrugged. "Having to be careful with how we investigate is better than not having anything to investigate."
"I agree," said David. "The last thing is, Lobell's not interested in talking to us. He only wants to talk to Don."
Liz smiled, glancing away. "Don must have made an impression on the kid."
"Video feed?" asked Colby.
David nodded. "Set it up?" He handed Colby a sheet of paper. "They'll let us have him any time in the afternoon tomorrow or the next day, see what you can coordinate with the detention center."
US DOJ METROPOLITAN DETENTION CENTER, 28 DAYS AFTER THE ARREST
"Damn it, Charlie! You sat across from me while I spilled my heart out to you, and you don't have the nerve to tell me about a major development in my case?"
Don let out a tightly held breath and shook his head in utter frustration. "Look – I don't blame you for the fact that some mercurial bastard sent me to jail to boost his profit margin, and if you think I'm that much of an asshole, maybe you're still as out of touch with reality as you were ten years ago. But I do blame you for being afraid to tell me."
Charlie shrunk down in his chair. "I was afraid – you'd react like this."
Years of working together, and Don still had the ability to break his heart apart with his words while Charlie wished desperately to convey I adore you, I admire you, I didn't mean to screw up. The ability to make Professor Charles Eppes feel about six years old.
"Oh, for the love of –" Don clenched his jaw, trying to contain the words that would merely send their fragile relationship back into a tailspin. He forced himself to remember Charlie hiding the fact that he was being stalked on the road, because of his overreaction to a chewing out. What was it Alan had said? He's not one of your agents?
"You're not one of my agents!" Don snapped. "You're my own damn family! I – look, I meant it when you said you could tell me anything. What I can't stand is when you hide stuff because, what, you don't have the nerve to risk getting yelled at? Do you seriously think –" he cut off his own words and groaned.
"Look – I told you things about me and the messed up stuff in my head that I've never shared with anyone, okay, buddy? That was me trusting you. A lot, you know?"
"I know," Charlie said, subdued. "That meant a great deal to me, I didn't want to ruin it. Maybe I just wanted to pretend for one day that we could have that kind of relationship."
"Charlie –" Don shook his head again in disbelief at how much his younger brother could need things spelled out for him at times. "Look – I just don't get you sometimes. But I don't ever want you getting that confused with the fact that I love you, all right? No matter how ticked off I get, that's not gonna change."
Charlie's head snapped up, and he stared at Don, his eyes wide open in shock. After a few utterly confused blinks, he asked, "You love me?"
"Some genius," said Don, his voice playful. It was utterly serious for his next words. "Of course I love you, buddy."
Charlie's eyes filled with tears, and he squirmed in his seat, looking around the bleak little visiting room for an escape route. Finding none, he simply shrank down even further.
"You're scared, aren't you?" Charlie asked finally, a choked whisper all he could force out of his throat. "Do you think you're going to be killed? Are you saying goodbye to me? Because –"
"No!" Don drew a deep breath and forced himself to consider the grief and love this confusing curly-haired bundle of emotion and numbers was experiencing. Damn this table between them, and the guard and the rules that reduced the limits of human interaction to words.
Trying to be more careful not to hurt people starts at home, right, Eppes?
"Charlie." Don kept his voice soft. "Of course I'm scared, anyone would be. But I trust all of you to sort this out, and I'm not gonna get killed, all right? I really come off as this much of a hardass?"
"Well – " Charlie braved meeting his eyes. "You've never said that before."
Don frowned. "Course I have. Well, maybe not in words, but - I'm just not into spelling out the obvious."
"Well, some of us aren't that smart, you know. We need things spelled out for us." Charlie's playful grin overshadowed the dampness in his eyes, and Don couldn't resist a return smile.
WAR ROOM, FBI OFFICE, 28 DAYS AFTER THE ARREST
Charlie froze in mid-sentence when Robin slipped in quietly, hanging to the back of the room. She was like a ghost, appearing in the office as an apparition that vanished when the living took excessive notice. "I'm glad you came," said Charlie.
"I'm here on an unrelated matter," she said. She sat and gave them all a pointed glance. "I thought I'd wait here until Liz has time to talk to me about the Richardson case."
Charlie smiled. "Of course." The pain behind Robin's blank expression tugged at his heart, but he turned away and brought up the software on screen.
"I've been spending some time with this program, and Amita and I were able to find the underlying errors and correct them. If we could do it in such a relatively short period of time, I'm confident that another relatively skilled mathematician would be able to achieve the same results."
"Relatively skilled…want to define that for me?" suggested David.
"Well – not your average mathematician," said Charlie. "But given some time to devote entirely to this project, if wouldn't take a – well, it wouldn't take someone like me. We're definitely looking for someone with a high level of talent and probably someone not unknown to the academic community."
"Well, Lobell says he'll talk to Don. If he gives us the name of a studio, we can get you a list of all the employees. Do you think you could recognize potential suspects based on that?"
"Sure – of course," said Charlie.
David's phone rang. After a brief discussion he tucked it back in his pocket with a sigh. "Gonna have to cut this one short, LAPD's pulling us in on a bank robbery."
BREAK ROOM, FBI OFFICE, TEN MINUTES LATER
Charlie followed Robin in and fixed two cups of coffee, handing one to her. She looked at Charlie, still not speaking.
"Robin?" Charlie asked.
She sipped her coffee. "I'm scared." She took several moments to think before speaking again. "Alan said one of the guards beat him up."
Charlie nodded. "I don't think it bothers him all that much, though. You know him, he's physically – well, insanely brave."
Robin winced. "I know." She flicked her eyes up at Charlie for a second, uncomfortable discussing Don with another person. "Is he coping okay with being in solitary confinement?" Her face twisted and she turned sideways to Charlie, leaning on the counter.
Charlie sat down in one of the chairs, sharing Robin's discomfort and trying to formulate a response. "He's stable."
Robin's back was to him, her words clipped. "He's suffering."
"He's questioning himself, maybe more than usual," said Charlie. He stopped. This felt wrong. Don and Robin were too emotionally private for him to be treading on this territory.
Charlie set down his cup and approached Robin, touching her shoulder. There were deeply held emotions there that words couldn't address.
She accepted the invitation and almost collapsed into his arms. Robin closed her eyes and pressed her face against Charlie's shoulder, letting him feel the worry and tension that filled every inch of her body. Charlie did the same, stroking her back while they both gained some measure of comfort. "I think he knows he's loved," said Charlie very quietly.