"You look worried," said the older Eppes, staying a few paces back. He'd learned that when verbally crowding his son, things tended to go better if he avoided doing so physically as well.

Don set his jaw and didn't reply. There was too much swirling around in his head to verbalize. Anger, guilt, heartbreak, more anger…

"You know, when one of my boys gets arrested on federal charges, I think that's something I'm not out of line to want to talk about, Donny."

"Okay, fine. I'm worried." Don looked away, looked at his watch, hoped the phone would ring. Anything to stop the images in his head of his little brother in federal detention.

Alan pressed the matter. "About what? Do you think he's in danger? Is he going to be mistreated?"

Don finally recognized the shades of fear behind his father's questioning. At least dad could verbalize them. "He'll be safe. He won't be mistreated." He closed his eyes. "He'll be – scared."

Anyone who didn't know the older Eppes brother as well as Alan would have missed the split second waver in his voice at that last bit, or at least failed to understand the depth of emotion it revealed. Alan approached now, and put a hand on his son's back.

Don shook his head. "I always thought it was weird – how people can freak out when you take a family member into custody. It's not like we're hauling them off to a gas chamber or anything."

He ventured a look, albeit a very brief one, at his father. "Seeing Charlie being handcuffed – God, I just wanted to do – something." Thinking about his little brother, his gentle, kind little brother, being handcuffed and processed and locked into a metal and concrete cage hurt more than he ever could have known.

"He'll be fine." Don bit his lip, regretting the words the second they came out, knowing what they revealed about his thoughts.

"Tell me about it. Two things a father can do without, having a son shot and having one arrested. Neither one is a bundle of joy, let me tell you that much." Alan sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the living room.

"I should have stopped him," said Don. "He doesn't know what he's getting himself into – I should have known he'd do something like this. He's going to lose his security clearance even if his lawyer gets the charges dropped, he's going on terrorism watchlists, - he may even wind up with a criminal record."

He spun around and faced his father. "So much for his career. So much for ever working with the FBI again, hell I may even have to move to another field office so I can't be suspected of collaborating with him."

Alan sighed. "Since when has an Eppes let consequences deter him from doing what he was convinced was the right thing? Speaking as someone with a fair amount of experience in civil disobedience, I'm sure he knew what he was giving up."

Don groaned, sitting down and burying his forehead in his hands. "In that case, I might take the little – pest – out back for a good beating when he gets home."

"Is it true what he says, that this research could save thousands of lives?" asked Alan.

"If he says so," said Don.

"Well, if that's the case, I'd say it's worth a small amount of personal sacrifice, wouldn't you?" challenged the older Eppes.

"Yeah. Yeah, but he didn't have to break federal law to do it. He should know that, he knows the system, he should know better!"

"Seems to me, knowing the system and seeing what it was doing is what prompted him to do this," said Alan.

"I need a beer," said Don, standing and shaking his head. "Or maybe a new brother, one without the ivory-towered innocent do whatever I want and to hell with the consequences attitude."

"You do realize ever part of that sentence, with the possible exception of innocent, could be applied to yourself? Right Donny?"

Don scratched his head, at length breaking into a smile. "Point taken. You want a beer?"