Being married turned out to be strange in that it wasn’t strange at all. Charlie’s life didn’t change a bit after he and Amita stood before friends and family at CalSci and declared their vows to one another. He’d expected to feel different somehow, as though a lifelong commitment to another person would alter him fundamentally, but he didn’t. It didn’t. He still loved Amita just as he always had.

England, however, was definitely life-changing. He loved the university and the old bookshops and the architecture of just about everything, which turned out to be a surprise. He’d been to England before, even fallen in love there, but everything looked different to him now that he wasn’t so self-absorbed. Charlie grinned a bit to himself at the thought, wondering just how bad he’d been, back then. He didn’t remember being a horror, but then, he’d been so consumed with school and Susan that he hadn’t paid much attention to anything else.

Now, though…Charlie sighed in happiness as he wandered down a narrow lane in Oxford. He’d taken a million pictures to email home and admit to his new love of architecture, something his father would be sure to love, he knew. It was a rare day off and the weather was cold and damp, winter just settling in, but he was bundled up against the chill enough that only his nose and cheeks were cold.

An alarm beeped from his wristwatch, reminding him to meet Amita at a café and he sped up a little from his meandering pace to make it in time. He made it with five minutes to spare and grinned at her surprised expression as he bent to kiss her cheek. “I set my alarm. You see? I can change.”

“So I see,” she teased. “I ordered you coffee, despite the horrified look I got from the waiter.”

Charlie chuckled and said, “Thanks. How was shopping? And where’s Georgia?”

Amita’s TA was local and the girls had hit it off instantly, becoming best friends within days. Charlie rarely saw Amita without Georgia and never Georgia without Amita. The slight blond girl was cheerful and kind, as well as easy company, so he didn’t really mind. She knew enough not to interrupt him if he was working and actually took some of the stress out of being in a new city for Amita, for which Charlie grateful.

“Charlie? Is that you?”

Startled by the familiar voice, Charlie’s head jerked up and he found Ian Edgerton standing a few feet away. He looked exactly as he always did, strong, secure and confident in comfortably worn jeans and a leather jacket, his dark eyes warm. Well, they’d always seemed warm to Charlie, even when the other man had been amused by Charlie’s challenges. He stood as Ian broke into a broad grin and closed the distance between them.

Ian pulled him into a tight hug, slapping him on the back a couple of times before releasing him and stepping back. His dark eyes flickered over Charlie, assessing, and then he complimented, “Married life agrees with you. Hi, Amita.”

Amita smiled and accepted a much shorter hug from Ian before offering, “Join us?”

Charlie ducked his head in embarrassment as he suddenly remembered what Don had told him before they’d left. He said earnestly, “I am so sorry for not inviting you, Ian. I didn’t even know you were in the area at the time.”

Ian chuckled as he sat and gripped Charlie’s shoulder, telling him, “I was joking, Charlie. I didn’t really think Don would pass that on.”

Relieved, Charlie said, “Oh, good. So what brings you here? Or can’t you say?”

Ian winked and replied, “I am working, yes. How’s the teaching going? For both of you, I mean.”

The next couple of hours passed quickly with good conversation and food. Georgia returned a few minutes after Ian arrived and introductions were made. Charlie couldn’t believe just how good it was to see Ian again. He’d felt disproportionately bad about not inviting him to the wedding, even before Don’s comments, considering that they didn’t generally keep in touch outside of the cases they’d worked together. There was just something about the other man that was both easy and challenging to be around. He was almost Charlie’s antithesis, using his physicality and experience to come to the same conclusions Charlie did, oftentimes faster, and sometimes more accurately.

When it was time to go, Charlie stood reluctantly and asked, “Are you in the area for long? It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Amita said dryly.

Startled, Charlie stammered, “Oh! No, I didn’t mean…”

She laughed softly and tugged on a curl, telling him that she’d been teasing. He let out a woosh of breath and then gave Ian a sheepish grin before repeating, “Will you be here long?”

Ian shrugged and said, “Depends on the assignment, but I’ll definitely swing by so we can hang out again, how’s that? Here, this is my cell number. Give me a buzz some weekend you’re at loose ends.”

Charlie smiled as he replied, “Sounds great. Be careful.”

Ian winked at him and promised, “I always am. Take care, Professor.”

The fond nickname sent a warmth through Charlie that he didn’t recognize, but felt good so he just accepted it and waved goodbye. He watched Ian leave the small café and then turned to Amita and found an odd expression on her face. Confused, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she said hastily, “Nothing. All right, are we set to go home? Do you have everything, Charlie?”

He made a face at her and teased, “Yes, Mother, I have everything.”

Georgia giggled and said, “Be nice, Charlie!”

The familiar teasing didn’t erase Amita’s frown, though, so he leaned in to kiss her softly, knowing words weren’t really his strong suit. When he pulled back, she smiled at him and tucked her arm around his and the three of them left the café together.

* * * *

Over the next few days, Charlie couldn’t help wondering what had brought Ian all the way to England. He also wondered if he could help in some way, if maybe Ian wouldn’t be in quite so much danger if he did. Not that he knew what the other man was doing, specifically. Charlie didn’t even know what he did aside from sniper and prisoner retrieval but suspected that it was a lot more than just those two ‘simple’ things. He suspected black ops and danger around every corner like some dime store novel, even though he tried not to think about it.

There was a lot more he didn’t know about Ian than what he did. The only thing Charlie knew for sure was that at his core, Ian was a good man and an honorable one with his own code. That was partly what drew him in, a familiar sense of right and wrong according to his father’s teachings. An eye for an eye, albeit tempered with wisdom.

Yawning, Charlie turned his focus back to grading papers with great difficulty. One thing seemed universal; first year students in the US and UK were all horrible with homework, even the bright ones.

At least there’s a greater percentage of students actually turning it in over here, he mused silently.

Charlie turned without thinking and banged his knee into the desk, making him yelp in pain and grip the new bruise, which was right on top of the old one. His office was tiny in comparison to the one at CalSci with just enough room for a desk, an ancient filing cabinet, and an overstuffed bookshelf. While he hadn’t pictured something as big as what he’d had, he hadn’t thought they’d stuff him in a broom closet, either.

His cell phone rang and he found ‘Blocked’ on the caller ID. Frowning, he answered, “Professor Eppes speaking.”

“Charlie, get out of there now,” Ian ordered urgently.

Standing in response to the tone, Charlie demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“No time to explain, just get out. Go to the quad and stay in public. Now, Charlie, run! I’m on my way.”

Heart beating heavily in his chest, Charlie immediately dropped the papers still in hand and squirmed around the desk to the office door. He looked both ways in the corridor and found it empty, which was normal at this time of night, and then spotted two men in dark clothing striding his way, which was not. Charlie swallowed back his rising fear and ran in the opposite direction, hearing their footfalls also break into a run.

Charlie made it to the stairwell and slammed through the door, running down the stairs as fast as he could, taking them two and three at a time. He landed wrong the last jump and something sharp gave in his ankle, but there was no time to stop. Ignoring the pain as best he could, Charlie ran out of the stairwell through the fire door exit, setting off the alarm. He flinched at how loud it was, but only for a second since he was instantly outside.

He staggered into the main part of the quad, limping the whole way, and was immediately surrounded by concerned students. Charlie let them lead him to a bench and assured them that he was fine, he’d just sprained it. One of them called campus security anyhow and it was only a few minutes before they arrived with a nurse.

Charlie’s heart remained beating fast in his chest because whoever those two men were, they stayed in sight, clearly waiting for an opportunity to get to him. His mind raced faster than his heart, trying to figure out if this had to do with his work at the CIA, NSA, or the FBI. Probably the CIA given that he was out of the country just then.

You’ve done it, Professor,” the nurse announced. “It’s definitely sprained, maybe more from the swelling. We’ll need an x-ray to be sure.”

He didn’t know whether or not he should go and vacillated, undecided. It was only because he was looking at the mystery goons that he saw them go down, the unmistakable but silent splatter of blood indicating that Ian was in the area, probably somewhere high with a good line of sight. The distant crack of a gunshot echoed a split second later, the sharp retort muffled by distance. Relief coursed through him as much as horror at the death so nearby and in the midst of students.

Screams broke out seconds later and the two security guards spun to find a couple of girls running from the bodies on the grass. There was running everywhere then, as people instinctively understood a shooter was in the area. The nurse bravely tucked her shoulder under Charlie’s and helped him to the nearest body as they tried not to get run down by far more mobile students. He couldn’t exactly tell her that it was safe now that they were dead, though, and so went with her, trying not to pass out from the pain.

Once he was inside, she ordered, “Don’t move, Professor,” and even more bravely went back into the quad to help.

Charlie stayed where he was, knowing that Ian would’ve seen where she put him and would now be on the way.

It was a good ten minutes later before the taller man arrived, grim expression in place that warred with worry on his careworn face. A baseball cap sat low on his head, likely to obscure his face from security cameras. Baggy jeans and a battered, black leather jacket adorned his lean body, hiding his true frame, giving him a bigger appearance than was actually the case. The cameras would get his height and skin-tone, but that was it, and only that much if the recordings were in color.

Ian relaxed a little on seeing Charlie and let out a small sigh before offering his hand and ordering, “C’mon, Charlie, let’s get out of here.”

Charlie took the strong, callused hand and stood hesitantly, gritting his teeth and leaning on Ian as he said, “The nurse thought it might be broken, said I should get an x-ray.”

“Then we will, just not here and not under your name,” Ian told him firmly.

Charlie limped beside him through the building and out the front to where the motorcycles were parked. Ian gestured to a black racing bike of some kind and angled them that way. Charlie gratefully sat on the back of it and then took the helmet from Ian, settling it nervously on his head.

Ian grinned at him suddenly, adjusting the strap and closing the faceplate before saying, “Never thought I’d see the day you’d willingly get on a crotch rocket.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie informed him, “This is hardly willing, this is necessity. And um, you are a good driver, right?”

Chuckling, Ian climbed in front of him and turned the key before kick-starting the engine. “I’m a great driver. Hold on tight, Professor.”

Charlie hesitantly wound his arms about Ian’s waist and scooted closer so their bodies were pressed together. It was distracting in an unfamiliar way and then the bike eased forward, as if giving him a chance to get used to the idea and the balance. Charlie’s eyes remained open for about ten seconds before they closed to shut out the frightening imagery of the world flying by without the safety of being in a car. His grip tightened around Ian and he rested his helmet on the other man’s shoulder, praying not to get into an accident.

* * * *

When Ian took the assignment to look after Charlie overseas, he’d done it out of a sense of friendship and even maybe a small sense of debt to Don to keep an eye on the man’s little brother. Working for the CIA was never his favorite gig and definitely not the most straightforward, but this was someone he knew, liked, and respected. There was no way that he could turn it down, even though it was going to last for six months. He was sure they knew that from his psych profile, which irritated the crap out of him, but didn’t really change his answer.

Charlie’s naiveté about how the world worked was refreshing and, he had to admit, attractive. Even with the work he’d done for the various agencies and knowing about all the evil in the world, Charlie persisted in believing in the inherent goodness of people. And that, of course, was why he needed someone looking out for him. England wasn’t hostile territory, but they were geographically close enough to enemies who would love to get their hands on Charlie. At least in the States he’d had a buffer of being further away.

The first couple of months passed without any problems. Ian took an apartment across the street from Charlie and Amita’s place and ran surveillance on them without any trouble. They were regular as clockwork, which made his life a hell of a lot simpler. Up and gone by nine in the morning. At the university until lunch at one of three cafés on a rotating basis that they probably weren’t even aware of. Afternoon classes. Office hours until six. Grading papers either in the office or meeting for dinner and grading them at home. Sex two or three times a week, depending on Amita’s mood.

Ian figured that if it were left to Charlie’s apparently low sex-drive, Alan would be out of luck in the grandkids department. On the nights without sex they were in bed around eleven. On the nights with sex, they were in bed around one in the morning, sometimes later. Ian had to admit that once he got in the mood, the Professor certainly had staying power. Not that he intruded once they started going at it, that was just too personal.

It was a strange way to get to know someone. Ian had done surveillance plenty of times before when bringing in an escaped prisoner, or trailing a target, but this was different. It was a lot longer, for one, and with a protective intent instead of a deadly one. He learned what kind of toothpaste Charlie liked and that he was definitely not a morning person. He found out that Charlie liked the left side of the bed and always put down the toilet seat for Amita. He saw how animated a teacher he was and how much his students loved him, even if they didn’t know what he was talking about half the time.

Ian came to know Charlie’s face almost better than his own, he stared at it so often. He could tell when the other man was happy or troubled, when he was puzzling over work versus if he had the right ingredients for the occasional boxed dinner. Ian decided he liked Charlie clean-shaven versus scruffy, though the second scenario was far more likely since Charlie seldom got up early enough to shave properly.

Just when he’d begun to relax and think nothing was going to happen, Ian had spotted a guy at the cafés where they ate lunch in the middle of the third month. He’d taken pictures when it seemed the man was more interested in Charlie than the food and sent them off to be ID’d. When the name Carlo Giotto came back, a henchman for a serious arms dealer that Charlie had helped to put away years back, Ian broke cover and made contact with Charlie and Amita. At that point it was more important that Charlie know he was in the area and to be able to contact him in case something happened.

All of a sudden things were very real. While he’d always entertained the possibility that someone might try and make a grab for Charlie, Ian hadn’t really believed someone would. As targets to acquire went, Charlie didn’t seem like a hot ticket, even for revenge.

Carlo Giotto changed that, though. The man he worked for, an American ex-patriot named Gary Fielding, was someone who held a grudge. As soon as Giotto was ID’d, Ian boned up on everything in his jacket and then everything in Fielding’s jacket. Within twenty-four hours, he’d memorized both and would know Fielding’s top henchmen on sight. Fielding had run his organization from inside his maximum security prison, though the Feds had never been able to figure out how. And then he’d escaped during a prison riot three years ago, returning to his black market arms sales within weeks. He was ruthless, efficient, powerful, and brutal.

Fielding was a man Ian desperately wanted in his crosshairs.

Until that happened, Ian practiced all his escape routes when Charlie was safely in class. He knew every road and turn and alley in a five square mile radius. He was on a run when he spotted Giotto and a man he didn’t recognize on their way to the campus. Ian took the next left and circled back, parking in front of Charlie’s building and then jogging to the one beside it.

Pulling out his cell, he called Charlie’s and the man answered, “Professor Eppes speaking.”

Ian immediately ordered, “Charlie, get out of there now.”

Worry instantly sprang into Charlie’s voice as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he answered, “No time to explain, just get out. Go to the quad and stay in public. Now, Charlie, run! I’m on my way,” and then dialed his team to have them grab Amita, just in case. He put the phone back in his pocket just as he reached the top of the stairs. He exited to the roof, the alarm disabled long ago. His rifle was hidden in a previously unscrewed duct and he pulled it out, unzipping the case and swiftly, automatically, putting the weapon together. Not even a minute passed before he was aiming it into the quad and waiting for Charlie and his would-be kidnappers.

Charlie burst out of the side door seconds later, setting off the alarm and limping heavily.

Ian shook his head fondly and murmured, “Charlie, what did you do, fall down the stairs?”

Giotto and his friend exited a few seconds later, but by then Charlie was surrounded by concerned students. One of them called security who brought a nurse to the scene to look at Charlie. While they were all engaged with helping Charlie, Ian aimed at Giotto first and took him out with a bullet through the brain. A split second later, he did the same to the other man.

As soon as they were down, he policed his brass and began taking apart his rifle. He was done before the first scream and used his sight to see which way Charlie went. As soon as he made note of the door, Ian hid his rifle again, using the mini-electric screwdriver to put in the bolts. He was off the roof within thirty seconds and then taking the stairs three and four at a time to get gone.

Ian ducked out of the building around front and went in that way, rather than take his chances on the security people out back asking for an ID. He jogged through the hallways, ignoring the scared kids huddled in groups and reached Charlie within a couple of minutes. Face-to-face with those big brown eyes on him, it was hard not to just hug Charlie and promise everything would be fine. He got the younger man on his feet and on the bike without too much trouble, which was a boon, even if it was probably due to shock and pain.

Charlie’s tight hold around his waist brought out every protective instinct Ian had. He navigated the streets safely, but took every back alley and side road, staying off the main ones to avoid both CCTV and traffic. Not that it was really possible to avoid all the CCTV cameras since England was second to none in that area, but he did the best he could. At least they weren’t in London.

It wasn’t until he was on the opposite side of the city that he stopped at a clinic, parking by the curb. Charlie had a death grip by then and Ian grinned a little as he patted the hands and said, “We’re here, Charlie, you can open your eyes now.”

Charlie’s head lifted and his hands slowly unclenched from Ian’s jacket before dropping away. “I officially hate motorcycles.”

Ian snickered and climbed off the bike as he replied, “Yeah, I didn’t think it would be your favorite mode of travel, but it’s the best for a quick getaway.”

Charlie struggled with the helmet for a few seconds before Ian batted his hands away and undid the strap, carefully tugging it off. The normally unruly curls were completely wild now and Charlie lifted a shaky hand to run through them. “And why did I need a quick getaway? Who were those two men? What’s going on, Ian?”

Ian’s hands twitched to reach out and comfort, but he only said, “You remember Gary Fielding?”

It took all of two seconds for Charlie’s eyes to widen and to exclaim, “He’s supposed to be in maximum security prison for another ten years!”

“He escaped three years ago,” Ian told him.

Charlie gaped at him. “And, and you’re here to protect me from him?”

Ian shrugged and allowed, “Among others. We didn’t know who would make a grab for you, didn’t know if anyone would really, but no one would take the chance and leave you unprotected. You’re too valuable.”

Charlie stared at him for a few seconds and then stated, “You’ve been watching us, the whole time we’ve been in Oxford.”

Ian nodded, confirming, “I have. We were hoping it would just be an easy six months and no one would pay you any attention to you. Then you could’ve gone home without even being the wiser, but looks like that’s not happening.”

“Oh my God, Amita!” Charlie suddenly exclaimed, jumping off the back of the bike.

Ian grabbed him, hauling him in close when he stumbled with a cry of pain. Supporting him with an arm around the waist, he said, “Easy, Charlie, you’re hurt, remember? Amita’s fine. I called in my team to keep an eye on her. Right now you’re the one in danger, not her.”

Giving him an uncertain look, Charlie asked, “So, what now? Can I, can I keep teaching or do I go home?”

Ian gave him a friendly squeeze and replied, “Right now we get that ankle looked at. By now my team will have gotten to the bodies and hopefully found where Giotto’s been staying. They’ll search the place and we’ll reassess once we have more information. Now come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

Charlie leaned on him and Ian helped him into the clinic and settled him in a chair before he went to get paperwork to fill out. He had all of Charlie’s information, real and created, memorized so he filled out the forms standing right there at the counter. He handed them back and asked, “About how long ‘til someone can see my partner?”

The woman gave him an amused look and said, “His head’s not comin’ off, and he ain’t bleedin’ t’death, so it’ll be a couple hours yet.”

Ian snorted and muttered, “All the comforts of home,” before walking back to Charlie. He found the Professor on his phone, talking to Amita, from the sounds of it.

“No, no, I’m fine, I promise, it’s just a sprained ankle. I’m at the clinic now,” Charlie said patiently. “Yes, of course I should have called you, I’m sorry. How is everyone there? Have they found out what happened?”

Ian waited, curious as to the answer of that.

“I see. Yes, I guess it’s just as well I did hurt myself since I was off-campus when all of that happened,” Charlie lied.

Interesting, Ian thought. So he can lie when he needs to.

Even more interesting was that he’d lied to Amita and was apparently not going to tell her what was really going on. At least not right away.

“Okay. Yes, I’ll call you when I’m ready to get picked up. Bye, Amita.”

Ian gave him an expectant look and asked, “So what happened after we left?”

Charlie sighed, scrubbing fingers through his hair as he said, “They shut the school down, evacuated the campus while the police look for the sniper, which is all she knows. Amita and Georgia are at the apartment now with some friends of yours. I’m sure she suspects something’s going on, she’s not stupid.”

No, Amita definitely wasn’t stupid. She would soon put together the security detail with the shooters and then Charlie would probably get an earful.

Charlie’s cell rang and he looked down before showing ‘Don’ to Ian and asking pointedly, “Do you want to take this, or should I?”

Ian chuckled and took the phone from him, answering, “Hey, Eppes, it’s Edgerton.”

“Ian? What are you…damn it, Ian, if you’re going to run an op that involves my brother you damn well better talk to me first!”

Don was shouting by the end of it and Ian winced, holding the phone away from his ear. When Don finished, Ian said, “Need to know, Eppes, and you didn’t at the time.”

There was a long, ominous pause before Don prompted in a low, dangerous voice, “And now?”

Ian reminded himself that the man on the other end of the phone wasn’t someone he truly wanted to piss off, as much as he enjoyed baiting Don. He answered, “He’s safe for now. I got him out of the situation and we’re getting his ankle looked at. Once that’s taken care of, I’ll meet up with my team and see what’s what.”

“You better keep me in the loop on this, Edgerton,” Don warned.

Even without the threat, Ian would have done so. He respected the other man too much to exclude him from something so important as Charlie’s safety. He promised, “I will, Don. Here’s Charlie.”

Charlie took the phone with a smirk, obviously having heard the shouting, and Ian rolled his eyes before getting up and walking to the door. He leaned on the wall next to it, which gave him a direct view of the street without being seen and then took out his own cell to check in.

“Red light, green light.”

Ian snorted at the words and answered, “Catch a tiger by his toe. This is Edgerton.”

“Hey, Ian, it’s Mary. Your girl is safe and sound at home and under watch.”

“Good. Status on the bad guys?”

“Trey and Bob are on the scene. I should be hearing from them any time. How’s Big Brain?”

Ian snorted at Charlie’s code name, just like he always did, and answered, “Got a sprained ankle in the exit, but we’re getting it looked at. Gonna be a couple of hours.”

“He really can’t walk and talk at the same time, can he?”

Chuckling, Ian confirmed, “Definitely not. Call me when Trey and Bob have info.”

“On it, Boss.”

He disconnected and returned to watching the street.

* * * *

As soon as Charlie said hello, Don demanded, “Are you all right? What happened? Why is Edgerton there?”

Looking over at the man leaning against the wall by the door, Charlie answered, “I’m fine, Don, I promise. And he’s ah, he’s here to protect me. I guess certain people thought it wasn’t very smart for me to just wander off to Europe for half a year. And I, I guess they were right considering what just happened. A couple of guys came for me today and he, well, I assume you saw the news and that’s why you called?”

“Yeah, it’s all over the news, buddy. When a big time university like Oxford has a sniper attack, it’s going to be,” Don confirmed. His voice softened when he asked, “You’re really not hurt?”

Charlie made a derisive noise and said, “Well, I landed wrong jumping down the stairs, so I hurt my ankle. Other than that, I’m fine.”

Don chuckled, which told Charlie he’d regained his equilibrium. “Yeah, that sounds like you, Chuck. How’s Amita?”

“Fine, but a little shaken up. Ian’s got people watching her, just in case,” Charlie told him.

“Good, good. Hey, call Dad before he sees the news, okay? I don’t want him freaking out,” Don ordered.

Charlie’s stomach clenched at just how badly their dad would freak out if he heard about this third hand like Don had. He promised, “As soon as I hang up from you, I’ll call Dad.”

“Okay. Be careful. And remind Edgerton to call me with any changes.”

Charlie smiled fondly at the command and said, “I will. Bye, Don.”

“Bye, Charlie.”

Charlie disconnected and immediately hit number 2 on his speed dial.

Alan answered sleepily, “Charlie? What’s wrong? Or did you forget the time difference again?”

Charlie had, actually, and glanced down at his watch. It was just about three, which meant it was almost seven in the morning in LA. Wincing, he said, “I did, but I wanted to get you before you watched the news.”

“Why, what happened?” Alan asked, voice immediately much more awake and suddenly suspicious. “What did you do that made the news?”

Charlie sighed and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dad. There was a, uh, shooting incident on campus about forty-five minutes ago. I’m fine and Amita’s fine. None of the students or faculty were injured, just a, uh, a couple of men who, well, they were, ah…yeah, I can’t really go into details, but trust me when I say no one’s going to miss them.”

Alan carefully questioned, “Does this have to do with your other work? The ah, the non-teaching kind?”

Relieved, Charlie confirmed, “Yes, exactly. But I’m fine.”

“Charlie.”

Wincing again, this time at the disappointment in his father’s voice, Charlie hastened to say, “I’m just here to teach, Dad, I swear! This is just, well, it’s from a previous assignment, I guess you could say.”

Alan sighed and said, “As long as you’re safe. You are safe now, right, Charlie?”

Glancing back at Ian, Charlie hedged, “I should be, yes.”

“Should be?”

“I don’t have enough information to do more than theorize, Dad. As soon as I do, I’ll let you know.”

“Did you call your brother?”

“He called me, actually. I just got off the phone with him.”

“Good, that’s good.”

There was a long pause before Charlie said, “I’ve got to go, Dad. Don’t worry, okay? I’m in good hands.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” Alan demanded.

Charlie looked at Ian again and said honestly, “No, I’ve got the best looking after me. Oh hey, don’t tell Don I said that, okay?”

Alan chuckled and said, “I won’t, son. I love you. Take care of yourself.”

“Love you too, Dad. Bye,” Charlie said and then disconnected.

His phone rang as soon as he put it in his pocket. Groaning, Charlie pulled it back out and saw ‘Larry’ on the ID. Taking a breath, he answered emphatically, “I’m fine, Larry, and so is Amita.”

There was a pause and Larry asked, “I’m glad to hear that, Charles, is there a reason you wouldn’t be?”

Charlie bit his lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity. He’d forgotten that Larry didn’t watch the news. Taking a breath, he explained what had happened, receiving Larry’s concern with as much patience as he had left. Thankfully, his friend didn’t require as much reassurance as everyone else did and soon turned to a different topic, which was setting up a field experiment for Charlie’s classes, which was the reason he’d called in the first place.

“Mr. Moore? Is Mr. Moore ready for treatment?”

Charlie jumped when a hand came down on his shoulder. He looked up to find Ian standing next to him and the other man said, “He’s over here. You have any crutches he can use?”

Startled by the false name, it took Charlie a few seconds to remember Larry was on the line. He said hurriedly, “Larry, I have to go. I’ll call you in a few hours, okay?” and hung up without waiting for an answer.

A nurse brought over crutches. Charlie awkwardly settled them under his arms, glad that Ian walked with him into the exam area, a steadying hand at the small of his back.

Once Charlie was seated on the exam table, the nurse said, “Sorry, sir, but you’ll have to wait outside.”

“I’m his domestic partner,” Ian lied smoothly. “I’d really rather stick around.”

She nodded and said, “That’s fine then, the doctor’ll be right along,” and proceeded to take Charlie’s vitals.

Charlie tried not to gape at Ian, but couldn’t make his mouth close. Logically, he knew it made the most sense to claim that, since they didn’t look at all alike, there was no way they could be brothers. Ian would want to stay by his side until the danger had been sorted for good. It just sent a strange sensation through him that Ian seemed to have no problem claiming that privilege.

“Charlie, close your mouth, babe, you’re gathering flies,” Ian admonished, winking.

Charlie’s mouth clicked shut and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. The endearment had rolled off the other man’s tongue entirely too easily.

The nurse put a cloth over his throbbing ankle and then a gelpack as she told him, “Your pulse is running a bit fast, do you have any heart problems?”

The cold forcibly brought his attention back to the moment and he hissed in a combination of pain and welcome numbness. Ian gripped his shoulder and Charlie gave him a grateful look before he said to the nurse, “No, no it’s just, ah, Ian brought me here on his motorcycle and, well, I don’t travel well on it.”

She wagged a finger at Ian and scolded, “Those are dangerous normally, let alone with an injured man on the back. Take a cab next time, lad.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ian agreed, smiling.

“All right then, lads, the doctor will be along shortly,” she said, putting the blood pressure cup back in its holder.

Charlie looked at Ian when she was gone and asked, “Where do we go once we’re done here?”

Ian shrugged and replied, “That depends on what my team’s found so far.”

“Since when do you work with a team?” Charlie questioned, confused. Everything he knew about Ian, which granted wasn’t much, stated flat out that he worked alone. Even Don had had a partner for his prisoner retrieval, but Ian never did. He tracked and hunted and…killed…alone. That was what snipers did.

Ian’s mouth twitched as he admitted, “They’re not really my team, I’m just in charge of them until you go home. It’s my operation and I’ve been your primary since day one. It’s just been me watching, Charlie, don’t worry. No one else invaded your privacy.”

Something inside relaxed at the reassurance, a fear he hadn’t even realized until hearing those words. That a stranger had watched his every move, and Amita’s, for the last three and a half months made him faintly nauseas. Knowing it had been Ian helped, even though it felt weird to know that Ian knew everything about him now while Charlie still knew nothing at all about him.

“They were on-call for the chance that someone came after you,” Ian continued. He gave Charlie a wry smile and said, “Even though they’re the best in their fields, I was hoping we’d never have to really work together, because that meant you’d be in danger.”

There was something about Ian’s words, something hiding below the surface, a tone, but Charlie couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. He’d heard it before, but couldn’t place it. The door opened before he could ask anything further and a tall man in his mid-forties entered, a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in hand. He wore glasses and seemed harmless to Charlie, but he saw Ian shift his position to be within arm’s reach.

“Mr. Moore? I’m Dr. Kendle,” the man introduced, holding out a hand to Charlie.

Charlie took it and replied, “Uh, yes, that’s me. Hello.”

“And what have we here?”

The exam was startlingly fast. Charlie bit back his gasps of pain as the man turned his foot this way and that, then ordered an x-ray and told them that he’d be back to examine the films.

Trying to regain his thoughts from before the interruption, Charlie asked, “What happens if you find out that Fielding really is after me? What are my options?”

Ian gave him an incredulous look. “Your options? Charlie, you go home if Fielding is really after you! Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger? Why would you put Amita in that kind of danger?”

Charlie looked down at his hands and thought for a long minute, trying to put his thoughts into words that didn’t trip him up. Finally, he said slowly, “I can’t run from this, Ian. If it isn’t Fielding, then it would just be someone else. How can I go home if it’s because some, some predator thinks that I’ll just, just run away? You wouldn’t. Don wouldn’t. Not even my father would do that. What makes you think I’m any different than the rest of you?”

Ian sighed, running a hand through his ink black hair.

Charlie noticed that it had grown distractingly long, brushing the other man’s shoulders.

Standing right beside the exam table, Ian said, “Charlie, you’re a professor. You aren’t trained to even protect yourself. If someone grabbed you, you couldn’t fight back. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s just outside your skillset. You understand that, right?”

“Don’t be condescending. And Dad’s not trained but he wouldn’t run,” Charlie said stubbornly.

Groaning, Ian began, “Charlie…” but the nurse bustled in with a portable x-ray machine, interrupting him.

She made short work of taking the x-rays and told them, “Shouldn’t be more than another half-hour, lads.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Charlie said, “What happens if there’s still a threat and I don’t go home?”

Ian gave him a sour look and replied, “I don’t know. I guess we’ll make our presence known and you’ll have a bodyguard while going about your business. And Amita, since someone could use her to get to you. Maybe with a visible threat, Fielding and anyone else eyeing you for whatever reason will lay off.”

Charlie clarified, “But you’ll still be here?”

“Yeah, Charlie, I’m not going anywhere,” Ian promised, sounding rueful. “You’re stuck with me until you go home.”

Ian sat in the chair against the wall and Charlie lowered back on the exam table with a sigh of relief. Whether that relief was because he was finally prone with no one prodding his ankle or because Ian would be there in the future protecting him, he didn’t know.

* * * *

Charlie’s going to be the death of me, Ian thought as he closed the apartment door on the sight of Amita hugging Charlie to within an inch of his life, crutches and all.

Ian left the apartment building and crossed the street to where Mary should be waiting. The plan had always been that if someone went after Charlie, they would run the op from where Ian had been running surveillance.

Sure enough, Mary was seated among all the electronic equipment, typing on her ever-present, suped-up netbook. Tall and thin with long, blond hair, refined features, and bright blue, mischievous eyes, Mary was the sort of woman every man wanted to bring home to Mother. She was smart and funny and didn’t put up with anyone’s shit, but did it in such a way that no one could take offense.

Looking up at his entrance, Mary offered, “Trey and Bob are on their way in. They looked over Giotto’s digs already and found zippo. Oh hey, nice job, Boss. I hacked into the CCTV to watch the hit go down. Very spooky.”

Ian snorted. “Thanks, Mary. Any word on Fielding’s whereabouts?”

“He’s in Nice right now,” she reported, “and there’s been no unusual activity. And speaking of activity, I got Giotto’s cell number from the local LEO network and he only made one call to Fielding’s villa about two weeks ago.”

Ian commented, “That’s right when he started tailing Charlie. And thanks for not actually saying the word ‘hacking,’ it makes my reports much easier to type.”

Mary nodded with a cheeky grin. “Anytime, boss.”

The door opened again to admit Trey and Bob, the two black men trooping in with plastic shopping bags in hand. Ian’s eyebrows lifted and he asked, “Was it your turn to buy groceries?”

Bob rolled his eyes and answered, “Trey decided to clean out Giotto’s place instead of leaving all the shit there for the cops to find.”

“All what shit?” Ian questioned, walking to meet them.

They dumped the bags onto the small, kitchen table and Ian saw a ton of pictures of Charlie and Amita among notebooks and wrinkled, folded up maps. A chill ran through him as he leafed through one of the notebooks and read…C wore the blue sweater today again, don’t know why. Maybe he just forgot to take it off…C smiled at me and didn’t even know it. It was perfect…That bitch had her hands all over him at lunch today. I can’t wait to cut them off…

“Jesus,” Ian breathed.

Trey nodded, long dreds bobbing with the motion. “That was one crazy obsessed mofo.”

Ian was suddenly very, very glad that Giotto was dead on a slab somewhere instead of out in the world ready to do very bad things to Charlie and Amita.

“Figured we shouldn’t leave the cops anything to connect back to the Prof,” Trey finished.

Ian nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good thinking. Okay. Mary, have fun logging everything and shipping it back home.

She made a face at him. “Thanks, boss.”

A brief smile quirked Ian’s lips and he continued, “The plan now is to make sure Giotto was just a crazy obsessed mofo and not working for Fielding.”

Bob asked, “And we do that how?”

Ian half-grinned and said, “I thought I’d go and ask him.”

Trey and Bob exchanged a look and then Trey observed, “I think you’re a crazy obsessed mofo.”

Ian grinned wolfishly at that, but didn’t deny it.

* * * *

It took surprisingly little time to get from Oxford to Nice. Ian left Mary in charge of keeping an eye on Charlie and Amita and took Bob with him. The most time consuming part of the op was getting his tools together. The flight itself was only a couple of hours.

When they got there, they headed straight to Fielding’s villa on the water. It was guarded, but only on the land side of the perimeter, so Ian didn’t anticipate too much trouble with the route he had planned. There would be electronic surveillance, but Ian would be wearing a ski mask and wasn’t worried about being identified. Not unless he was caught, and if that happened he’d have more important things to worry about than being ID’d.

Getting onto the property was the trickiest part. They observed the perimeter and timed the guards’ routines for two days before he went in. Ian timed his entry down to the second, cutting his way in through the fence with a tiny, soundless butane cutter and then sprinted down the long driveway at the edge of the yard, by the tree line. He held impossibly still as one of the guards walked right passed him and then finished the route into the house.

This part was much easier since they knew from infrared scanning that the guards didn’t stay in the house. Apparently, the only ones allowed inside were invited guests and business partners. At two in the morning, Fielding was in his bedroom, sound asleep. Or he had been just before Ian had left to infiltrate the estate. There was no reason to think the man had suddenly changed his habit of sleeping through the night.

Ian had memorized the manor’s layout the day before and jogged quickly and without hesitation through the large living room to the hallway just beyond. That led to the stairs which he took to the second floor, pausing at the top to peer around the corner before deeming it safe. He turned the corner to where Fielding was sleeping and jogged to the bedroom at the far end. Ian stopped at the door to pull out the bowie knife from the sheathe bound to his thigh. The handle was long-familiar, his fingers wrapping easily, with certainty, around the well-worn hilt.

The psych profile said this could go one of two ways. Fielding could take the intrusion as a personal affront to his manhood and hunt down Ian’s identity to find and kill him. Fielding could also choose to look at it as all Giotto’s fault and go after him, especially if he thought Ian was scary enough not to go after. Ian knew how to be scary and grinned wolfishly at the thought of getting at least one very bad guy off Charlie’s back forever.

Standing beside the bed, Ian pulled out the ball gag from his pocket and nimbly hopped onto the bed. Fielding woke the moment Ian’s weight hit the mattress, but he’d landed on the man, straddling his chest. When his mouth opened, to draw in a breath to shout for help no doubt, Ian shoved in the gag with one hand and held the blade tight against Fielding’s throat.

Fielding froze in place and looked up at him, seemingly unafraid.

Ian half-smiled and said, “Good. You’re not stupid. You tell me what I want to know and I leave without so much as shaving off your stubble. If you don’t, then I’m going to have some fun carving you up. Do you believe me?”

Fielding nodded slowly.

“Also good,” Ian said. “I’m pulling out the gag now, but I’m sure you know what’ll happen if you try to shout for help.”

Fielding nodded again and Ian pulled out the gag, setting it aside.

“So. What do you know about Giotto being in England for the last month?”

A puzzled look flashed across Fielding’s face, as if it was the last question he’d ever expected to hear, but it was gone almost too fast to notice. If Ian hadn’t been waiting for some kind of reaction, he’d have missed it.

“Giotto’s a free agent,” Fielding replied. “I cut him loose.”

Ian knew he was telling the truth, if only from the way Fielding’s now-steady pulse remained steady against his finger. “Why?”

Fielding snorted. “Because the fucker’s crazy, that’s why. Got obsessed with a local girl last year and killed her because he thought she was cheating on him. With her own husband. I can’t afford that kind of scrutiny.”

Also true, though Ian didn’t need to feel the steady pulse to know that. Fielding had few places left that he could go without some other country finding out and then extraditing him. The only reason the US hadn’t already put anything in motion was because Fielding hadn’t resumed operations in, or going to, the States. Everyone knew that by the time the paperwork was files, Fielding would be gone. It was better to know where the scum was than to have to spend time looking for him in the future.

Of course, none of that meant that Fielding hadn’t sicced Giotto on Charlie in the first place and then let the obsession culminate on its own. He hadn’t been sure whether to even bring Charlie up during the brief interrogation. It was possible that by doing so, Fielding would be clued into Charlie’s proximity if he hadn’t already been.

Leaning in close, maintaining eye contact, Ian informed him softly, deadly, “I believe you. Almost. You get this one warning. You keep away from Charlie Eppes and his family or I come back for you. And if I come back for you…”

Ian pressed the knife hard into the underside of Fielding’s throat, the edge almost cutting into tender skin as he continued to stare into the other man’s eyes.

Fielding gazed back at him and then said, “I hear you. Eppes and his family are untouchable by me or mine from here on out.”

He sat back at last, though he kept the knife in place as he pushed the gag back into Fielding’s mouth. In a smooth movement, he pulled the cuffs from his back pocket, already wiped clean of prints, and attached one end to Fielding’s wrist and the other to the metal headboard. Ian hopped off the bed and then pulled out another pair to cuff Fielding’s ankle to the footboard. Stretched out like that, there was no way Fielding could attract any attention. He wouldn’t be found until he was missed at breakfast and they’d be long gone by then.

The trip out of the estate proved to be just as simple as his entrance had been. Ian was flooded with adrenaline by then, though, and he had to make sure to focus and not make a stupid mistake.

Nothing was done until it was done, after all, and Murphy could be a real bastard.

He reached the van where Bob waited not even twenty minutes after he’d left it. As soon as Ian was in the passenger’s seat, Bob started the car and pulled away from the curb onto the street as he commented, “You’re getting slow, Edgerton.”

Ian huffed in amusement and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.

Charlie was safe again, at least in regards to Fielding and his goons.

* * * *

In the four days since he’d last seen Ian, Charlie had returned to what passed for his life with teaching classes and interacting with students during office hours and going home to Amita. He was always conscious, however, of the black man sitting casually in the back of the lecture hall or trailing somewhere behind him. He was also very conscious of Amita’s frown of worry and the way time seemed to slow down whenever he wondered just where Ian had disappeared to.

He could ask his newly visible minder, but Charlie didn’t know if he would get an answer. He also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what the answer was, not really, because if Ian was off somewhere killing someone to protect him…

“Charlie? Hey, you with me?”

Blinking back to his surroundings, Charlie smiled at Amita and said, “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“So I gathered,” she teased. “What about?”

Charlie thought about it a moment and then said, “Ian. I was just wondering where he was.”

Amita’s frown instantly returned and she replied, “I honestly don’t want to know. Charlie, what are you going to do if he says that it isn’t safe to stay?”

“I’ll go home,” Charlie answered with a shrug.

The more he’d thought about that possibility, and he’d thought about it a lot since Ian had vanished, the more he’d realized he had to go home if there was a real threat. He’d realized that it wouldn’t be just his life on the line. Ian would be between him and any bullet aimed in Charlie’s direction. He didn’t think he could live with Ian’s death on his account, especially not if he could have done something as simple as leaving to prevent it.

Leaning on the table, Amita took his hand as she said, “But your work’s here now, Charlie, and it’s important. You can’t just work for Don the rest of your life.”

Charlie frowned at her. “This isn’t about that. And even if it were, I don’t work for Don, I consult with the FBI. That’s important, too, Amita.”

“I know it is, but…”

“But?”

Amita sighed. “Charlie, you’ve been really working on your cognitive emergence theory since we’ve been here. You’ve been, you’ve been brilliant and you’re doing real, incredibly complex things with it because Don hasn’t been distracting you with cases. This is what you were meant to do, Charlie, change the world, change our understanding of the universe and ourselves.”

Charlie stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. He knew that Amita liked Don, that she liked everyone at the FBI and they all liked her, too. He also knew that she respected everyone who worked there. She hadn’t espoused this kind of thinking for a few years, not in his hearing at least.

“You don’t know how happy I am that you’re finally concentrating on your own work,” Amita finished, smiling.

Her dark eyes shone with passion and her face was flushed attractively. Charlie got the correlation, then, suddenly and unexpectedly, that like many of the ‘math groupies,’ Amita was turned on by his mind. It wasn’t a new revelation, really, but he looked at her with new eyes and couldn’t classify the sensation that tightened his chest and made his stomach drop. Always before, he’d enjoyed her admiration and been flattered that she found him attractive enough to actually seem to want him. This was the first time that he felt unsure it was actually him she loved, all of him, not just his mind.

Amita’s smile faded and she asked, “Charlie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assured her hastily. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine. Just, I’m tired. Good night, Amita.”

He the kitchen left before she could respond, hobbling away from his half-eaten dish of ice cream that sat mostly melted on the table. A dessert that had not tasted at all good to him even though he loved ice cream. It was close to eleven, so it would be an early night for him, but he was due. He’d been unable to sleep well since the incident in the quad and Ian’s subsequent disappearance.

A knock at the apartment door detoured him and he peered out the peephole to find Ian standing outside. Relief swept through Charlie and he opened the door, smiling broadly with all the relief he felt. “Ian!”

Ian smiled back and said, “Hey, Professor. Just wanted to let you know that everything’s okay for now. There’s no active threat anymore so you can relax.”

Charlie did relax and then he offered, “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure, but just for a couple of minutes,” Ian agreed, stepping into the apartment. “How’s the ankle?”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie answered, “It’s still broken, but thanks for asking.”

Ian chuckled, following him into the living room. “You’re looking pretty handy with those crutches, all things considered.”

“Well, I’ve used them enough over the years,” Charlie replied, dry. He settled on the sofa and Ian sat next to him, leaving some space between them. Angling towards the other man, Charlie asked, “Are you all right?”

Ian seemed surprised by the question, but smiled again and nodded, dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he replied, “I’m good, thanks. Just got back a few hours ago and had a ton of paperwork to fill out, but other than a hand cramp or three, I’m back on schedule.”

“The schedule of me,” Charlie commented, making a face.

Another warm chuckle graced the air and Ian tugged on one of Charlie’s curls. “Not the worst assignment I’ve ever had.”

Amita cleared her throat from behind them, startling Charlie into looking over at her. She stood in the kitchen doorway with an irritated look on her face as she said, “Hello, Agent Edgerton.”

Ian stood and replied, “Hey, Amita. I didn’t mean to disturb you two, just wanted to give you the all clear.”

Charlie tried to stand up and couldn’t quite make it from the deep cushions. Ian took hold under his arm and hefted him upright and Charlie stumbled against him before gaining his balance. Laughing a little, he said, “Sorry about that.”

Ian clapped him lightly on the back. “No problem. I’ll just say good night. See you tomorrow, Charlie.”

“Will I?” Charlie asked curiously.

Ian winked. “Well no, but I’ll see you. Night, Amita.”

“Good night,” Amita replied.

Once the door closed behind Ian, Charlie gave Amita a frown and asked, “What’s wrong? He’s just doing his job.”

Amita walked over to him and pushed him back onto the sofa. “Putting his hands all over you is not part of his job. That’s my job.”

Charlie laughed a little at the possessive statement and then gasped when Amita simply climbed on top of him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, he stammered, “Amita, what, what are you doing?”

She unzipped his pants and shot him a wicked look as she said, “Reminding you exactly who’s in charge here. You’re all mine, Charlie, don’t forget that.”

Charlie had no idea what had gotten into her, but decided to just go with it, moaning as she undulated over his groin.

So much for going to bed early.