Title: You Need A Vacation. Part 2 of Some.

Author: FraidyCat

Genre: Drama, Angst; Can't guarantee nuthin.

Time line: One Year from Last Time

Summary: For anyone out there who has ever had a brother. Slight insinuation of whoopee (het).

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em – but wanna cuddle 'em.

Chapter 1

Sam rolled over and spooned Jenna, rocking the RV a little. "I don't care," he muttered. "I don't like him."

"You know what I think."

"I'm telling you, he has shifty eyes."

She kicked backwards at him, exasperated. "He does not. He's an FBI agent, for Pete's sake."

"So why didn't he come looking for Charlie last year? He's probably what Charlie was running from."

"Samuel Carver! We don't know that. Charlie never even hinted about that. I still say you're jealous."

Sam snorted. "Of another guy?" He grinned in the dark and touched her…there. "Haven't I made myself clear on that?"

In spite of herself she gasped, pulled away from him a little. "Stop distracting me. You know what I mean. Charlie is like a younger brother to you now, and you don't want to compete with the real thing."

"I'm not jealous," he retorted in a tone that clearly stated he was. He touched her somewhere else. "Does this distract you?"

She twisted around to face him. "Maybe. Listen, they're only going to be here five days. Be nice to him, for Charlie's sake."

He pulled his hand back, sulking. She snuggled closer, let her own hand wander. "Does this make you feel any better?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I still don't understand how you convinced the university that this trip is research related. I mean, I'm glad you did, since that was the only way they'd let you go, and I appreciate your doing it so you could coordinate with my time off…I just don't get it."

"Me, neither," Charlie admitted. "On the application for a few days off, all I said was that I was working on a logorithim regarding the duco, or enumeration, of the gutter ratilus, in hopes of developing a program that will assist wildlife preservationists in the Northwest, and that I could more accurately collect necessary data in the field."

"That's why I said I don't understand."

Charlie grew defensive. "I shouldn't have had to 'convince' anyone of anything, the hours I've put into that school…"

"Hey, Hey, I'm not arguing that," Don assured him. "Are you really going to develop this thing? And what is it?"

Charlie bent over the fire to add another log. He glanced around him, but the few other campers were spread around the campground. They couldn't hear him, he decided, but he stepped closer to Don and lowered his voice anyway.

"I'll collect data," he said. "And I know you don't like Sam…"

"I never said that," Don interrupted. Even in the firelight he could see that Charlie wasn't convinced.

"Anyway, it's from something he said to me last year, when I first told them what I really do with my life." Charlie looked around again, nervous, lowered his voice even more. "Don," he whispered, "I'm here to count rednecks."