My Beautiful Doll

Warning: Nothing. Just Don's poor life choices and self-preservation instincts.

A/N: Honestly I don't have any notes today, so enjoy a short one. Have a nice day! :)

Don rolled over, ignoring the pounding headache and the sharp pain that came with the jostling of his right shoulder. Then he felt it, the intense burning sensation on his left arm. Putting it up, he belatedly realized that the fabric was on fire. Looking around, he noticed that there was a puddle of water nearby. Not thinking much, he instantly slammed his arm onto the water, screaming as he felt an intense wave of pain go through his arm. At least the fire's out. Then he decided to put a handkerchief that he always had in his pocket into the water, serving as a makeshift smoke protector.

Then he gritted his teeth and shakily got up, grateful that his legs were holding up, and started slowly getting to the downed officer. Using his suit jacket as protection, he pushed the flaming material out of the way, hissing as he felt the fire through the cloth. Once everything was out of the way, he looked at the man and winced. Gary didn't look good. Not counting the fact that the man was out cold, Gary's face was pale and one leg had blood running down it, no doubt due to the debris that fell down on top of the man earlier.

He grit his teeth as he bent down and pulled the man up, praying that he didn't have any possible spinal injuries. His own body protested at the action as he felt a stabbing sensation emit from his shoulder, almost making him pass out. Putting Gary's arm around his shoulder, he took the damp handkerchief and placed it over the unconscious man's mouth, blocking out the smoke as much as he could.

"Dammit Gary!" he shouted, gripping onto the man tightly so that he didn't fall off. He took a deep breath, coughing at the smoke that made its way into his lungs as he pulled the man up, supporting most of the unconscious man's weight. His body screamed as every single injury that he had made sure to make itself violently known.

Keeping a tight grasp on both the man's arm and the handkerchief covering the man's face, Don managed to drag the both of them through the fiery house, stopping once when a piece of the celling fell down sending flaming wood crashing below. Don cursed, jerking to the other side to avoid getting crushed. Then he stumbled again, squinting as the smoke grew heavier. He couldn't stop coughing, praying to every deity in existence that his measly attempts at protecting Gary's airway would be enough to spare him from the heavy side-effects of smoke inhalation. Somehow, Don managed to blindly stumble his way through by sheer force of will. He managed to kick the door open before being bombarded with plenty of shouting and flashing lights. Not caring on what was going on, he ran as fast as he could with an unconscious man in his arms.

BOOM!

Another loud explosion ran through the house. For the second time that day, Don felt himself being forcibly shoved forward by the shockwaves. Fortunately, he was far enough that he only stumbled, falling to his knees with Gary still knocked out beside him. Don took the moment to gently set the man down next to him, before slumping forward, his injured arm being the only thing keeping him upright. He started to hack and cough even harder now that the air wasn't filled with fumes, making his eyes water. Thankfully the ringing in his ears stopped, so he wasn't going deaf anytime soon (hopefully…).

Suddenly there was a soft touch on his back. He jerked upwards, groaning at the pain that started to bloom in his chest. In front of him was a medic, her blue eyes looking at him with worry. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Don blinked for a moment before surveying the area around him. He just realized that the flashing lights he saw earlier were from the ambulance parked in front. There were also a few cars, their sirens blaring loudly. "I'm fine…" he mumbled, feeling the soreness in his throat.

Then another medic came, gently helping him up. "Are you dizzy or nauseous?"

Don shook his head. So far the only thing he's feeling right now is an intense need for a nap. That and the pain radiating from his shoulder, head, and arm. "Gary…" he managed to bite out as he looked around, realizing that the older man was nowhere to be found.

The medic smiled sympathetically, "If you're talking about the man you carried out, he's being tended to in another ambulance".

Don relaxed, thankful that the man was being taken care of. Then he scowled as he realized that he was being herded into an ambulance as well. He tried to get out of the man's grip, but it seemed that his legs decided that it would be a great time to fail him, the traitors he thought to himself. Then he was placed on the bed, an oxygen mask placed on his face. "We need to take you to the hospital sir" the woman said when Don shot her a questioning look. He sighed before coughing up a storm, bad idea…he thought. Feeling exhausted, he leaned back and let the medics do their examination.

This is going to be a long day

Don really had to stop predicting the future because evidently, fate really liked to prove him right whenever it was most inconvenient for him. As soon as he got carted to the hospital, he was subjected to multiple tests and even more questions. He was barely able to move a finger before a swarm of nurses and doctors hovered over him, preventing him from freedom. He sighed as another nurse came up and started to clean the wound. I am completely capable of doing it myself thanks… he thought sarcastically. But he didn't voice it out loud, mostly because he knew he would feel bad later for snapping. So he leaned back and let them do whatever they wanted for now. The faster we do this the faster I can get to Gary and close this damn case. He tried to be optimistic, but as another doctor rolled in for another round of questioning, Don started to doubt whether it was a good thing that he kept escaping the killer.

It took a while, but eventually he was able to escape the clutches of the medical personnel. After a stern lecture and a laundry list of things he should and shouldn't do, he was allowed to sign out (with much disapproval from everyone but Don decided to ignore that part). He also managed to get a number for Gary's room and made his way there.

As soon as he was in the vicinity of the room, he saw armed police officers standing there. Word moves quickly, he thought to himself. He flashed his badge at the men and after a confirmation that yes, he was who he says he was, they let him in. Once inside, Don couldn't help but wince. The older man looked even older than usual, the tired lines on his face more pronounced. His leg was propped up and in a cast. He also had an oxygen mask on his face.

"You look like shit Eppes" Gary smiled as he stirred, cracking one eye open.

Don quirked an eyebrow, "That's rich coming from you". Then he sat down on the chair beside the bed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "How are you?" he asked.

Gary propped himself up further and shrugged, "I'll live". Then he pointed his chin at Don's bandaged arm, "What happened there?"

"Just a small burn"

Gary let out a small snort, "Knowing you, it most likely means that you really shouldn't be up right now."

"Gary, I can't rest now. I need to finish the case" Don said, "Either way, it would be especially shitty of me to back out after this."

Gary looked confused, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Don couldn't help but guiltily look away, "You got hurt because of me" he muttered.

Gary rolled his eyes. "Come here," he ordered.

Don decided to humour the man and pulled the chair closer. Then he was suddenly hit with a light smack to the back of his head. "OW!" He hissed, rubbing the area. "What was that for?"

Gary grinned, "For being a dumbass, that's why". Then the man leaned back, "You can't foresee everything Eppes. There will sometimes be things that slip through the cracks. It's not your fault. The man might've targeted you, but he could attack anyone". Gary waved a hand around lazily, "If it wasn't me, it could be another cop or civilian. The point is, you're never to blame, it's that crazy son of a bitch". Gary then fixed him a stare, "Tell me, if someone on your team or your family were faced with the same problem and you got caught in the crossfire, do you think they'd be to blame?"

Don shook his head, "Of course not, they didn't choose to be targeted."

"Exactly what I mean". Gary then patted his arm, "I know it's hard Don, but you have to give yourself the same leniency and forgiveness you give to others. Plus, it's about time the rest of us catch some smoke from this guy" he joked, "Can't have you hogging all the attention."

Don sank into the chair further, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He knew what Gary said was correct, but a large part of him couldn't really agree with that. He had to hold himself to a higher standard because mistakes can happen if he didn't. And mistakes in his position could lead to lives being lost. Maybe Gary was able to find that peace, but Don doesn't think that he has it in him to do the same. He loathes to admit it, but he was afraid of what would happen if he did.

"I guess…" he muttered, somewhat unconvinced. Looking at his watch, he cursed. "Sorry to cut it short Gary but I need to go."

Gary sighed, looking concerned. "You sure you up to it?"

Don let out a humorless laugh, "Honestly? Not really. But I don't think I get much of a say in that".

"You always have a say".

Don shook his head, "Not this time" he said, already thinking of the workload that awaited him when he gets to the office.

Don went straight back to the office after his visit to Gary. Although exhaustion was starting to pull at him, he stubbornly refused it. Instead he went straight to the war room, throwing the sling he was wearing earlier onto his desk. He needed both arms for this one.

Don could feel the concerned looks as he walked through, steadily deciding to ignore that as well. He knew he looked like hell. His clothes were dusty, dirty, and were burnt in some spots, especially on his sleeve where it caught on fire. There was blood on his shirt and even fresh blood running down his head because he had accidentally reopened the cut he sustained to his head earlier. The worst was probably the large bloodstain and hole on his right shoulder, the hole bigger than earlier due to the previous events.

He got inside the war room and got to work, looking over lists and jotting them down. He was thankful that the place was almost empty with most of the agents already home. He decided to look over the cases again. As he read, he noticed that some of the addresses of the crime scenes were tugging at his instincts. Frowning, he decided to look further in. When he did, he almost felt his jaw drop. This…this could be it! He scrambled to grab the rest of the files, a hypothesis forming in his mind.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, working alone in the room. All he knew was that there was a gentle knock at the door. Looking up, he saw Baker, his face concerned. "Are you sure you should be up and running?"

Don waved his hand dismissively, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. "Doesn't matter. What does is that I think I managed to narrow down our list."

Baker looked surprised. "Really? How?"

"I thought about how suspicious it was that the killer has all these abilities and access to information that would be hard to come by. Then it hit me. We were always looking for a regular person who is able to get into the FBI office undetected, but we never thought about looking for an FBI agent who is able to get access to all these places".

"You think this is an inside job?"

Don nodded, "Most likely". Then he placed a file in front of the man, "These are the list of warehouses and empty places that the killer has used to store his victims, see anything interesting?"

Baker's eyebrows rose as he read the files, "They were all used in other crimes."

"Exactly! Now that could be one of the biggest coincidences in human history or…"

"The killer knew about these places because he either investigated the crimes in these places beforehand or knew someone who did" Baker finished, realization dawning on him. "How did you find out about this?"

Don sighed, "I read the files a little more after I came back and I realized that some of these places seemed familiar, like I've seen them before. So I looked into my old cases and it turns out a lot of them were from scenes I've investigated. Then I decided to look into all the places even more and well…" he gestured towards the boards behind them, all filled with pictures and scribbles, "this is what I've got".

Baker let out an impressive whistle. "Whew…how long did this take?".

Don checked his watch and almost balked at it. "Too long…" he muttered under his breath. He looked out the window and winced, now realizing that he feels extremely exhausted. He had walked out of the hospital around two or three in the morning and went straight to the office. It was eleven now and he was really starting to feel the side effects of everything. He placed his head in his hands, the pounding headache worsening as everything started to catch up to him.

"Don, are you okay?" Baker asked worriedly.

"Great…" he groaned, placing his head on the table. His body now felt like lead, the blood that ran down his face earlier now felt sticky and dry. Every injury decided that now would be the best time to start reminding him that they exist, violently. He hissed at the sharp burning pain that emitted from his shoulder and arm, "I think reality is starting to sink in…" he muttered. God I feel like shit he thought to himself. He felt like he was dragged through hell and back. This can't get any worse, right?

"DONALD ALAN EPPES!"

Don instantly flinched, the violent jerky movement against the table caused the wound on his head to reopen again and blood to start dripping down the side of his face. Looking up, he paled. As soon as he saw who stepped out of the elevator, his flight instincts kicked in.

Of course it can…

A/N: Donnie, Donnie, Donnie...didn't you remember the last time you said that? :)