A/N: hey there everyone! yeah, it's pretty cool cause this right here was supposed to be a one shot about a case that the eppes brothers had just finished, complete with some brother bonding, but half-way through writing the intro, the idea morphed into a full fledged fic in my head, and so i couldn't help but run with it:):) r & r, and enjoy:):) -- cause there's plenty more to come:)

P.S: this chapter has been reposted now that i have a working spellchecker:)

By: thebondgirl

Chapter 1 - So It Begins

Don's black SUV cruised down the dark, nearly empty campus road, the speed at which it was traveling clearly indicating the exhaustion of the one driving it. Trusting his mind's autopilot to kick in and take him where he wanted to go, he let his thoughts wander back to the events of the past week, going all the way back to Monday morning when the case had first arrived on his desk, the crisp manila folder that held it giving no indication of the troubles and hardships, both emotional and physical, that its contents were to bring about. The vehicle slowed even further as he recalled those days leading up to the present, and he sighed deeply, wearily at the memory.

The case had been built on the 'Jersey Cop Killers', or so they had been called, dubbed as such because New Jersey had been host to their first victims: seven patrolmen in the space of one week, each found with one bullet in the side of their heads, in addition to one in their chests, what was believed to be a killing duo striking at either the victim's home, or, to up the risk and thrill, just as they were coming off duty at the station.

They had wasted no time in moving on to their next city, upping the risk even further as they started going after not only police officers, but FBI agents as well, including in some cases the families of both types of law enforcement, choosing to strike in New York, then Miami, Las Vegas, and finally at long last, Los Angeles, right on the doorstep of Don and his team...and Charlie. The mere thought of everything involving Charlie over this last week made him wince openly, an inevitable pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. From the second that the first L.A. victims had been claimed, an FBI agent by the name of Brad Trenton along with his new wife, Don had been on edge, spending twenty-two hours of every day, and sometimes twenty-four, studying the clues left at the crime scenes, running down small leads where there were some to be found, and shuffling back to the layout room for another lead when the one that he'd chased had ended in a dead end. He'd of course involved Charlie after the first two days, knowing better than anyone that if there was a pattern to the otherwise seemingly random killings, his brother would be the one to find it, bringing this massacre to an end.

Suddenly unable to see the street clearly, Don pulled his vehicle to the side so that it hugged the curb, turning off the engine, leaving the key in the ignition as he sat back in his seat with a shaky sigh. Starring out his windshield, he saw the Math building of CalSci looming at the end of this street, a single light burning in the window of an office that Don had visited many times before. He shook his head, knowing beyond a doubt that the lone occupant of that cluttered office, a one-of-a-kind genius with once bright but now tired brown eyes, and a head covered in unruly curls was glued to the floor in front of his chalk-boards, scribbling equations onto their surfaces like a madman. He also knew that, thanks to him, that genius probably hadn't rested for days, probably hadn't stopped to eat since supper the previous night, and definitely worked now with a heart full of worry, hurt, and determination, born of his big brother's words.

Don shook his head slowly, blinking at the tears of frustration and self beratement that burned the backs and corners of his eyes as he thought back to that Wednesday morning, wishing feverently and with heartfelt sorrow that he had never picked up that phone and dialled that number, wishing that he could have had a chance to change his mind about calling before his baby brother had picked up and accepted the job.

Closing his eyes tightly against the beginnings of a stress-induced migraine, Don remembered that Monday morning, remembered that first scene, remembered when this whole disaster had started, the things that had transpired since, wrapped his arms tightly around himself, and cried.

Don stifled a contented yawn with the back of his hand as he pulled his SUV off of the road and into the parking lot of L.A's FBI headquarters, quickly finding and occupying his given place near the door before killing the engine and carefully plucking his cardboard coffee cup out of its holder beside him to take a large, satisfying gulp to warm his insides. Just thinking about last night, the first night in three months that he'd had eight hours of sleep made Don smile broadly. Their caseload before yesterday had been ridiculously heavy, his team tackling file after file as it came along at an unstoppable flow that was hard for even them to keep up with. But somehow they had managed, and here he sat, grinning like an idiot out his windshield while he drank his coffee, feeling really entruly refreshed for once.

A light rapping on his window drew him out of his reverie and he turned his face to look out of it, removing his seatbelt and opening the door almost immediately when he saw who it was, snatching up his tie from his seat, along with his coffee, before shutting and locking the door and turning to face his visitor who bore an amused smirk at his upbeat demeanour.

"I take it somebody had a good sleep last night," Megan said teasingly as they started walking towards the front entrance. Don's grin broadened even further and he took another gulp of java before answering with good-natured sarcasm.

"You really are an amazing judge of people - I knew I hired you for a reason," he laughed, opening the door for the profiler before following in after her. Megan cocked one eyebrow and looked over at him with a half-smile.

"Funny - if you thought I was that good, I should think that I'd have gotten a raise by now." They made their way steadily past the receptionist, to whom they tossed a brief nod before stepping into an empty elevator and hitting the button for their floor. Don tossed her an incredulous look.

"It just so happens that you have the highest pay of everyone on the team," he huffed, stuffing one hand in his pocket as he used the other to bring his cup once more up to his lips. Megan stared straight ahead as she spoke, her smirk back on her face.

"Aside from you of course." The comment froze the cup in its journey and Don looked over at her with narrowed eyes. The elevator doors chose that moment to open and Megan strode out ahead of him, leaving him to catch up to her, all the while shaking his head and muttering something about hitting bellow the belt as they made their way through the empty office towards their cluster of cubicles and bullpen. Shrugging off his suit jacket, Don draped it over the back of his desk chair, carefully placing his coffee by his keyboard before quickly and professionally tying his tie and straightening his dresshirt collar over it. He heard a mirthless chuckle coming from behind him and turned to see Colby shaking his head disgustedly.

"It's too early to look that proper," he muttered, and Don grinned as he took in the man's rumpled suit and the tie that was clenched in the man's left hand, an extra-large coffee occupying the other.

"Had a late night Granger?" he asked innocently, smoothing down his tie as he sat down in his swivel chair, facing his younger agent's desk. A grunt sounded from behind the tall cup before he swallowed in order to answer.

"It was the first free night we've had in forever, so naturally the last thing my friends'll let me do is kick off early," he gripped, tossing his tie down beside the monitor of his computer. A laugh that Don recognized as David's sounded from behind the wall of Colby's cubicle before the neatly dressed agent emerged from around the corner, leaning casually up against it.

"I remember hearing something about peer pressure at one of those presentations they give you in high school," he commented, looking up at the ceiling as though in thought before returning a jibbing gaze to his friend's unimpressed face. "'Just say no' wasn't it?" He dodged a swat from his co-worker and headed over to his own desk still laughing as he shuffled through the papers there. "I'm sure I speak for everyone though when I say that I'm looking forward to a boring week for once," he said, sitting down with a sigh.

"Amen to that," called Megan from her seat after returning from opening the window to let in some fresh air. Don had to nod in agreement; even with a full night's rest, his brain still felt scrambled from the hurricane that had been his work of late and he was seriously looking forward to recuperating, even considering taking some of that vacation time that he had coming to him. He leaned back in his chair.

Maybe I could stay at Charlie's for a while, he thought seriously to himself as he listened to the others settle in around him. After all, I've hardly had a chance to talk to him or Dad for the past three months, never mind stopping in for supper. We could probably -

His thoughts were interrupted by the far off sound of four sharp cracks that drifted in through the open window, his subconscious immediately recognizing it for what it was despite its lack of volume. Unsure however if he had simply imagined the disturbance, he glanced quickly around at the members of his team, knowing right away that they had heard the same things: gunshots - from the parking lot bellow.

Not a word was exchanged as instinct led to each of them drawing their guns and immediately taking the elevator back down to the lobby where they found the receptionist already calling for back-up, training leading them in two-by-two cover formation to the front doors through which they saw the lobby's two morning guards chasing and firing after a small, black Buick. Without hesitation, they continued on through the doors, eyes scanning the lot for the possible targets and/or victims of the shots that he and his team had heard before. When at last the sound of the shooter's vehicle faded into the distance, Don heard it: another running engine, near by...

His ears led him to his left, to a small car in a space not far from Don's own whose tailpipe still spewed exhaust, and whose driver's side door was still open on the side that didn't face a parked car. He could also see two figures occupying the seat up front - neither were moving.

The agents approached cautiously, slightly fearful of what they were certain to find, their fears confirmed when they came up on either side of the vehicle and looked in, unable to help the sinking feeling in their stomachs: in the passenger's seat of the vehicle was a young woman, her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed and her face slackened as though asleep, though the growing stain on the front of her shirt proved otherwise. And in the driver's seat was a man in a mirrored state, a man that they all four of them recognized: Special Agent Braddly Trenton - he worked in their division. Don immediately whipped out his cell phone and dialled, holding it to his ear as he watched the return of the security guards and waited for the call to be answered.

"911, Emergency Response - Please state your emergency." The calm, collected female voice of the emergency services operator certainly matched his exterior, but was the polar opposite of the thoughts and fears that ran rampant at his core. An agent was just murdered mere minutes ago...along with an innocent civilian... right on the FBI's doorstep. Shit.

"This is Special Agent Don Eppes with the FBI - I have an agent down, repeat: I have an agent and a civilian wounded - I need paramedics at the following address..." Don rattled off their location and quickly hung up, tucking away his gun before crouching down beside Brad and pressing his hands as hard as he could over the wound in his chest, only now seeing the blood that had been flowing from the side of his and the woman's heads; they were both already dead. Swearing under his breath, Don stood from his crouch and looked over to where Megan had already begun to question the security guards who looked as though they had just run a marathon, both of the rookies gasping as they leaned back against one of the cars a short distance away, trying to catch their breath enough to provide the information that Megan was looking for.

Don glanced over at his other two agents, finding David to be on the phone, no doubt calling the FBI's Deputy Director, and Colby wiping what was more than likely to be the woman's blood off of his hands with a hanky probably provided by Megan. Blinking, Don finally looked down at his own hands, only really noticing right then that Brad's blood covered them. He forced himself to swallow the bile that inadvertedly rose to the back of his throat.

So much for a boring week.