Hi, everyone!
…And thanks a lot to TranquilityofPassion (alias Natasa ) for your review! You can't imagine how happy you made me by these two lines!

14 – CHAPTER FOURTEEN – 1.207^14

When Don hobbled down the stairs the next morning, his brother was already loading the dishes in the dish-washer. Don paused for a moment before he decided to regard his brother as possibly friendly, but also determined.

"Morning," he greeted with some reservation as to how his brother might behave.

"Morning," the answer came back, and even if Charlie didn't look at him, the greeting still sounded friendly or at least polite.

Again Don watched his brother's movements for some moments. At least he didn't seem to run the risk of Charlie running off in order to avoid a discussion. Don felt he could take another step further. "Have you already called Millie and told her you won't be teaching the next couple of days?" Drat, maybe he'd missed a step? If Charlie just didn't go crazy again now…

"Yes."

Wait, wait, wait – what had that been? 'Yes?' Charlie had told Millie that he was going to Baltimore? Had he gotten something wrong here? "What?"

Charlie finally turned around to look at him, his face a mask. "Yes, I have informed Millie and taken a few days off," he repeated. With all that had gone on recently it had nearly been forgotten that yesterday, CalSci's administration had chosen, with remarkably unfortunate timing, to close the disciplinary investigation and to welcome Charlie back as if nothing had happened.

Don tried to decrypt Charlie's face. He couldn't believe it: Charlie had been playing the petulant child, and now he'd come to his senses overnight and had already settled everything? That somehow sounded too good to be true.

"That means," Don assured himself, "you're really going to accompany dad to aunt Susann's? Sure?"

Charlie now sounded increasingly irritable. "What are you doing? Did you change your mind or what?"

"No, no… it's just… you're really going?"

"Yes, dammit, and now let it be!"

Don was so relieved about Charlie's decision that it didn't bother him that Charlie flew of the handle like this, nor that his brother hadn't been able to look into his eyes. Charlie had a good reason, however, for his behaviour. After all, it didn't happen everyday that you lied to your brother, particularly when that brother was an FBI agent.

Since Don and Colby were still in Pasadena around noon, they decided to drop by once more at the Craftsman before Alan and Charlie flew off into safety.

"Hi, dad. Have you already packed?", he inquired as soon as he'd entered the house. At the bottom of the stairs, there was already a mid-sized case.

Alan came out of the kitchen drying his hands with a towel. "Donnie! Nice you dropped by. Hello, Colby."

"Alan."

"You're getting along with your case?"

"A bit," Colby answered while Don said at the same time, "No". Alan acknowledged Colby with a questioningly raised eyebrow and Colby reported. "We first have to find out how the group is organized so we can detect the men having abducted Don and Charlie and those who gave the order. We hope that by that we'll be able to figure out what the organization is planning. Anyway, we have to check all the old statements once more and be sure that we and the colleagues in the previous cases didn't miss anything that could maybe help us now understand the organization's structure." Colby hesitated half a second. "We'd certainly get it done quicker with Charlie's help."

Don glanced at him angrily. "Charlie's going to Baltimore, got it? I don't want him here. End of discussion. Where is he, anyway?"

"In the garage, where else?"

"In the – what? What the hell is he doing there?"

"Ask him." Charlie had informed Alan – that had been inevitable – however lying was something Alan wouldn't do for his youngest, especially not to his brother.

A few instants later, Don was standing in the garage, immediately fixated on his brother's figure standing as usual in front of the boards as if nothing extraordinary was going on. A surge of resentment rolled through him when he recognized the papers on top of the over-loaded desk as copies of the documents he himself had taken with him during their flight from their prison. There really was nothing he could do right, Don thought sullenly.

"Hey, Charlie, what you doing here?" Don didn't even try to hide his resentment. Although the plane didn't take off for a few hours – Charlie had to let go of this case once and for all. And the sooner the better.

His brother didn't even turn around and face him. "I'm trying to bring the work to termination as much as possible. Rounding off threads. So that I won't get tripped up."

"So you want to go on working, from over there?"

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"We're on our way from an interview and…"

"I thought you're supposed to be on desk duty, because of your ankle."

"It boils down to the same. And now don't try distracting me – you don't really want to continue over there, do you!"

"You want to forbid me even that or what?"

"Now come on, Charlie, everything I'm doing is for your own safety."

"And what are you doing for your safety?"

"I'll take care of myself, don't worry, okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I promise. But now you too have to promise me you'll keep out of the matter."

"As soon as I'm safe with dad, nothing will happen to me anyway. And if I'm not mistaken you could use some help as well."

Don made an unhappy face. Of course, Charlie was in general right – but who could guarantee to him that Charlie was really going to be safe in Baltimore? The less his brother had to do with this case, the better.

"Have you even packed yet?" Don guided the conversation to other areas again.

"No, not yet."

Don stared at him. "You do intend flying together with dad, don't you?"

Charlie didn't answer immediately. God, this really wasn't easy! He still had to string Don around a bit, though. Until Don realized that Charlie had no intention of leaving and that the plane had flown to the east coast with only Alan on board. They would both then, independently from each other, be able to work at least some hours efficiently. And when Don realized that Charlie was still there, he would have thought of something to justify his choice and why logically it was better that he was here in LA. Don would realize that somehow Charlie should stay and that it was for the best.

Until then, he'd just have to keep up appearances. "Do you want to call Millie? She can confirm it to you if you don't believe me. I've really signed off the next couple of days." That was right. After all, Don didn't have to know that he'd taken some days off to work on the case. "Do you want her phone number?"

"No, of course not." Don was aware that it would have been a sincere betrayal of trust if his response had been different. "I believe you." And after all, his father also had her number.

Charlie whirled around to turn towards the boards and thereby hide his grimace. Don believed him. Nice. And Charlie was lying to him. Great.

"Colby and I have to go on now," Don informed him. He was aware that he wouldn't manage to get anywhere with his brother today. "After all, we only dropped by to say bye."

Charlie closed his eyes in tension. God, it was really more difficult than he'd feared. He bit his lower lip and then said to his brother, though without turning around, "Okay. Take care. Be careful. See you. Bye."

Don stared at him. Well, okay, they weren't a family that constantly touched each other, and their relationship might be a bit tense at the moment, but Charlie could have at least looked him in the eye, right? Who knew, after all, when everything would be sorted out here and they'd see each other again?

Don stepped behind Charlie and laid his hand on his shoulder. Still, Charlie didn't turn around. It had to be enough, though. "Okay… you too take good care of yourself, listen? And dad. Make sure that he and aunt Susann don't argue too much."

Charlie could hear that Don was smiling, but he felt more like crying. "Uh-huh," he muttered.

Don hesitated another brief moment, but then realized that Charlie wouldn't turn around, squeezed his shoulder briefly and then left the garage. 'Take care, Chuckie,' he thought sighing quietly, glancing back towards his brother in front of his boards. 'Take good care of yourself.'

0 – 0 – 0

"Anything new?"

"They've sent the old one away," Malenkov reported. He raised the corners of his mouth sneeringly when the boss bowed his head, elbows on the table, hands folded against each other. They weren't far from Hollywood, and its influence seemed to have spilled over into criminal circles. Malenkov found the whole situation so absurdly cinematic that it appeared nearly laughable. Only the subtitles were missing, but after all, everybody in their group understood the Russian language. And the rest fit perfectly into the image: the calm figure at the great table, the room and the darkened windows. Yes, that was how people imagined a mafia boss. Just – why didn't he feel as if he stood in front of one?

Anyway, the fact was that they would attract as little attention as possible in the small and nondescript apartment that served them as their headquarters – and it was much easier in a low populated area than out of town in industrial or office areas.

To avoid attracting attention, they had also pulled down the blinds, very like a normal citizen. Only the darkness of the room was something that Malenkov was tempted to put down to the boss's fondness for drama. The boss said he could think better in the dark and he'd get a headache from the light. He didn't seem aware, though, that the darkness matched his black soul and of course that it definitely had an impact on the atmosphere.

Malenkov still couldn't wipe the taunting grin from his face. The boss – did he even deserve the term? – was sometimes pretty quirky and his decisions, although made with the co-management of the others, sometimes got them into trouble. He was very willing to take risks; otherwise he wouldn't have got into this position. However, it just didn't always end well.

A case in point was what happened with the abduction of the two Eppes brothers. True, they couldn't have foreseen the escape – but it really was close to arrogance to kidnap a federal agent. And now they had to pay. It seemed they now had the whole agency on their backs. For example the fact that they had sent the father into safety hinted at that. The FBI was preparing for war.

"Where is he?" the boss inquired.

Malenkov's grimace disappeared from his face and his features froze. "We don't know. We only know they've sent him away, but not where to."

"The brother?"

"Is still there. The agent also wanted him to leave, though, but he didn't. He's still in the house."

Malenkov watched the boss frown. Maybe they had acted too late. Maybe they should have taken care of this brother first. However, postponed was not abandoned. "This brother… couldn't we do something there?"

"What do you mean?"

Eventually, the boss lifted his head, his eyes still looking at nothing before he continued talking slowly. "I don't know yet… But something will turn up. We'll have to consult with the others."

0 – 0 – 0

The afternoon came with further inteviews and ended in trolling through piles of dusty, badly organized files. During the tough interrogations, Don had wondered if he should work through the night so that they could finally get somewhere but he knew that they might still be sitting here for days or even weeks. And besides, he was still tired and exhausted from the overwhelming events of the past days. Still, it was ten o'clock in the evening before David, Colby and Don finally called it a day.

Don decided to stay in the Craftsman that night. The majority of the arguments just argued against his apartment. For one, the distance to his flat was greater, and for two, he could this way verify if everything was alright at the house. Check that the stove and iron had been turned off. And besides, his Charlie's house was more comfortable and maybe he would feel nearer to his family and not so lonely…

Don managed a wry smile. 'Stop this sentimental bullshit!' Still, he guided his SUV to Pasadena, with the splint on his foot serving him very well.

The Craftsman lay in front of him, abandoned and dark. Don let the cumbersome crutches in the trunk, opened the door and entered slowly and quietly. It was a strange feeling; he nearly felt like a trespasser, as if he had no business being here as long as his father and brother were gone.

He decided not to switch the light on. He was tired and fed up and the bright lights would just make him unnecessarily awake. He wasn't in the mood for an evening of TV alone, or really anything else to be frank. He just wanted to sit on the sofa and think, finally calm down…

There was a light current of air coming from somewhere. It took Don only seconds until his head told him that something was wrong. There was a draft, he was sure – but there couldn't be one, could there? With Charlie, Don wasn't certain, but at least Alan would check every window a second and third time before he left the house for a few days, even if they had to leave fairly suddenly. So where was this gentle breeze coming from?

Forgetting his tiredness, Don strained every muscle. Somebody had to be here, here in the house. Burglars? Or even the mafia? Maybe they had wanted to assault Charlie and Alan in their sleep and… or they wanted to take advantage of the abandoned Craftsman and spy how far Charlie had advanced with his work. Whatever it might be – maybe they were still inside and that meant to Don that he had to be careful.

As quietly as possible, he drew out his weapon and sneaked to the back door from where the draft was coming. He didn't like this, he didn't like this at all. All of a sudden, he had a burning urge to call for back up, but his mind told him that by now it was too late, that he'd give himself away that way. And anyway, there was no reason to suppose a crime was being committed here. Apart from the queasy feeling in his gut.

In the wan moonlight Don could now – although barely – distinguish the silhouette of the back door that led to the garden. He went the few steps towards it and felt out with his hands for the wood. The door was open.

Don couldn't deny feeling threatened. There's someone here… He could sense the presence of another creature that was here somewhere, close to him, much too close…

The hand with the gun still stretched out in front of him, Don was about to turn when he received a heavy blast on his forearm and the weapon fell out of his hand.