A/N: Sleepy's full request appears at the end of the story.
"What have we got?" Don asked as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
"Raphael 'Rocky' Taylor," Colby answered as he stepped away from the car he'd been poking around in. "One gunshot wound to the head execution-style, just like the other two."
Don nodded as he leaned inside the blue compact car, his eyes trailing across the dead man's face and around the inside of the vehicle. Forensics would be checking out the car soon enough, but Don already knew what they would find – nothing. Just like the others, he thought bitterly. "Who called it in?" he asked as he backed away from the vehicle and nodded for ERT to take over.
"Trixie," Colby grinned as he gestured to a nearby woman talking to two LAPD officers. "Prostitute with a pretty sharp sense of humor."
"I'll bet." Don put on his best smile and joined the group, indicating the officers should step away. "Special Agent Eppes, ma'am." Much to his surprise, his usual knock-out smile only served to further anger the woman.
"Do you know how much money I make in a night?" she demanded. "And I missed out last night because you guys got some dead body cramping my style. If you're so special, get that bloody mess off of my corner and let a working woman work."
"I'm working on it," he assured her.
"Nice little play on words there," she snapped. "You think a girl like me is too stupid to get that?"
"No ma'am, not at all." Don gestured to Colby and then looked back at her. "In fact, my friend over there says you've got a pretty good sense of humor. And I know people with a good sense of humor usually have a good sense of the world and what's right." He paused as the anger faded from Trixie's face, leaving behind a woman much too young to have already steered her life down the wrong path.
"What do you want, Fed?"
"Tell me what you saw."
"A dead body," she fired back. "Why else would I call the cops?"
"You said it Trixie – you make a lot of money in a night. So I know you were here last night." Don lowered his voice and adopted a slight pleading tone. "Help me catch the guy who did this on your turf."
"Some guy in jeans and a windbreaker," she finally replied. "Tall – a little over six feet – around two hundred pounds. He carried himself with a lot of authority – didn't even hesitate when he shot that guy."
"That's good," Don encouraged. "What else?"
"The sick animal stuck around after he did it. Dug around in the guy's pockets and then bent down and messed around on the street around the car. Then walked out of here like he was strolling through the park or something."
"You see his face?"
"I didn't want to see his face," Trixie stated. "I waited till I knew he was gone and gave the local boys a call." She leaned around the agent and watched the men combing over the car. "That's all I got, special agent. Now, can you and your boys get out of my office?"
"We'll be long gone before tonight," Don promised. He left her with the two officers and joined Colby. Nodding at the vehicle he asked "They find anything?"
"Do they ever?"
"Right," the senior agent mumbled as he headed for his SUV, Colby trailing on his heels.
"That's the third jewelry fence in a month," the younger agent remarked. "No evidence at any of the scenes."
"Trixie said he was messing around on the ground after he shot our guy."
"Policing his brass?"
"Sounds like it to me," Don agreed. "That and the lack of trace has me thinking we've got a real pro on our hands."
"I called Megan and gave her our latest vic's name. She's working on a profile of our killer."
"Good," the senior agent approved. "You and David run down our victims' associates and see if they had any in common."
"We'll get on it. Meet you back at the office?"
"Yeah, let me make sure things are wrapped up here." Don watched his teammate leave the scene before turning back toward the blue car and its unfortunate occupant. He'd taken no more than two strides when a loud, booming voice sounded behind him.
No way, he thought as a smile lit up his face. He turned around and saw a very familiar, if not much older face giving him a hard look.
"Tell me, Eppes – what fool put you in charge of your own team?"
"I don't know," Don shrugged as he walked toward the other man who was being kept behind the crime scene tape. "Maybe the same kind of fool that decides who trains agents at Quantico."
"You might just be right, Rookie."
Don shook his head as he held out his hand. "Henry Allison," he said in amazement. "How in the world did you wind up here?"
The bear of a man shook the agent's hand and rolled his eyes. "Retirement and vacation time. Gotta hate them."
"Who has time for a vacation? And don't start with the 'r' word around me. I thought you'd be teaching at Quantico up until the day you died."
"You and me both, Rookie. But the higher-ups wanted someone younger and more in tune with modern policing techniques. So it was desk duty or retirement."
"So you come to LA on vacation and those instincts of yours led you right to the nearest crime scene?"
"That and a little scanner I keep handy," Henry said with a wink. "I heard all the radio traffic and figured I haven't got anything better to do so I might as well come check out the action. I thought it would be LAPD, though. Imagine my joy when I see that the Bureau's involved and that you're the one running the scene."
Don turned and found the head of ERT waving a clipboard at him. "We're getting ready to transport the body now."
"Great, I'll be over there in a minute." He turned back to his old friend and patted him on the shoulder. "Look, I have to finish up here but how'd you like to catch up on old times tonight?"
"I'll see if I can pencil it in on my calendar."
Don heard the bitterness in the other man's voice and knew this was an image of who he would be several years down the road. Taking pity on the other man, he suggested "Head on over to the FBI office. I'll meet you there and introduce you to my team. Then we can do dinner."
"That sounds like a plan."
"So," Megan smiled as she joined her boss in the break room. "Henry's your old training instructor?"
"Yeah," Don nodded as he poured milk into his coffee. "He taught me almost everything I know."
A loud burst of laughter from the bullpen drew their attention and Don shook his head as David and Colby slumped over in their chairs, panting from laughing so hard.
"He's certainly enjoying the spotlight," Megan observed.
"Henry's like that. He'll regale you with stories too wild to believe until you ask around and find out they're all true." Don grinned as he leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. "Makes you respect him even more."
"How's that?" she inquired as she slipped into a chair, studying her boss.
"I dunno." Don shrugged uncomfortably under her gaze. "I mean… it's like he doesn't feel the need to exaggerate to impress you, you know? Straightforward and honest – two qualities I really appreciate in an agent."
"He sounds wonderful. You were lucky to learn from him."
"I know," he agreed. "I can't help but think how unlucky the new classes of agents are not to have the same opportunity I did."
"Rookie!" Henry's voice boomed through the office. "I'm about to tell them about your first undercover op."
Megan laughed as Don flew from the break room, moving faster than she'd ever seen before. She followed him at a slower pace, arriving just in time to hear her boss groan.
"Henry, you didn't!"
"Hey, you learned some valuable lessons from that op, didn't you? I thought your team could learn from your experience."
"Yeah," David sniggered. "What's the most important lesson you learned from being a dancer at a gay strip club?"
Trying to salvage what was left of his dignity Don held his chin up high and said, "That I could make enough in tips to retire from this job."
"Really?" Colby snorted. "I would have thought it was something like 'never put on a pair of leather pants without making sure they had a back to them'."
"Laugh it up, Granger," Don growled. "But consider this very carefully – who doles out the assignments around here?"
"I'd put your tip money to shame," Colby boasted.
"You're impossible," Megan said, rolling her eyes and slapping Granger's shoulder.
"So, Rookie," Henry beamed. "You want to stand around here and talk or head on out for dinner? I'm starving."
"Dinner," Don quickly replied with a playful glare on his face. "You can't embarrass me as well with your mouth full."
"How long you been in LA?"
"Three years," Don told his friend. "I moved out here when my mom got sick."
"How's she doing?" Henry asked, his voice dropping to a normal level for the first time that day.
"She died. Cancer."
"That's rough, Eppes."
Don shrugged as he chewed on a piece of steak. After a long moment of silence, he looked up and cocked his head. "How about you, Henry? How long has this retirement thing been going on?"
"Five months," the other man sighed. "And I've hated every one of them." He shook his head and stared at the younger man with a sad look on his face. "People like me and you – we don't retire. We can't. It's in our blood to stop the animals out there."
"I hear you. What about a hobby?"
"The crocheting classes were full."
"Seriously," Don chuckled. "What about fishing or golfing?"
"I bought an RV," Henry told him. "I've been driving around the country and seeing our great land." He sighed and fingered his napkin. "The great land I spent most of my life protecting and serving."
"Sounds like it could be kind of fun," Don said doubtfully. Before Henry could respond, his cell rang. He checked the ID and recognized Charlie's number. Mouthing a silent apology to his friend, Don flipped the phone open. "What's up, Chuck?"
"Not much, Donald. Colby sent over some information on your latest case. He said he and David couldn't find any common associates for your three fences and wanted to see what I could do."
"I think I've got something. Can you come by tonight?"
"Hold on." Don covered the phone and gave his friend an apologetic smile. "It's my brother. He's helping on the case and he's got something."
"Brother? You never really mentioned him much back in the day."
"We didn't really relate to each other back then." Don's face brightened as he sighed. "Still don't all the time, but it's getting better."
"Say, I know I might be imposing here, but I'd love to meet your brother. See what my best rookie grew up with."
"Sure, no problem. Just… how do you feel about math?"
"You weren't kidding, Rookie," Henry laughed as he and Don stood in front of a chalkboard covered in equations. "I feel like I'm failing algebra all over again."
"Sorry," Charlie said, his head never turning away from his work. "It looks complicated but the results are easy to understand."
"Understand?" the retired agent laughed. "Son, all those symbols are Greek to me."
"They are Greek," the professor chuckled, appreciating Allison's sense of humor.
"So," Don said, steering the two men back on topic. "What does all that stuff tell you?"
"Your three dead fences didn't have any common associates."
"Charlie," Don sighed in frustration. "We already knew that."
"But when we dig a little deeper – look into their associates' associates – then we get something interesting. A name, actually." Charlie handed a piece of paper to Don, smiling as his brother's eyes widened in excitement.
"Isn't he on the terrorist watch list?" Henry asked.
"Yeah," Don nodded as he ran through Charlie's notes. "We've suspected him of funding several terrorist cells throughout the world. He's got a nice little black market jewelry trade going on."
"All three of these fences repeatedly dealt with men who had an ongoing relationship with men in Georgopanos' organization," Charlie summarized.
"But why kill them?" Don wondered out loud. "As far as I know none of them were acting as informants or even under investigation. They wouldn't have posed a threat to him."
"Maybe he's not the one ordering these killings," the professor suggested. "Maybe a rival dealer?"
Don looked up and nodded. "You got anything to support that?"
"No, but I can keep working on it."
"I didn't know we were having a party in the garage."
"Hey, Dad," Charlie greeted as his father spoke from the doorway. "Don came over for some help on a case."
"Oh?" Alan inquired as he stepped toward the unfamiliar face. "Are you new to Don's team?"
Henry laughed heartily and shook his head. "Do I look young enough to be new to anything? I'm Don's old instructor from Quantico – Henry Allison."
"Alan Eppes – nice to meet you," he smiled, shaking the larger man's hand. "What brings you out here?"
"I know that tone of voice," Alan commiserated. "I was retired very briefly before boredom kicked in."
"A man after my own heart. How'd you deal with it?"
"Started my own business."
"Sounds like a great idea, Mister Eppes."
"Alan," he corrected. "Anyone who taught my son how to be an agent – to stay safe in the field – is on a first name basis with me."
"All right then, Alan. What say we have a drink and visit while these two work?"
As the two older men left the garage, Charlie cast a delighted look at his brother. "I promise I'll work on this tonight."
"But?" Don raised an eyebrow.
"I want to go visit with them. I just know there's a blackmail-worthy story waiting for me in there."
"And a severe butt-kicking if you ever repeat anything Henry says."
"Of course," Charlie nodded. "Anything you say… Rookie."
"What on earth happened to you?"
"I had an accident with an eraser," Charlie grumbled as he fingered his chalk dust-covered curls.
Alan gave Don a hard look but his oldest just shrugged innocently and sank into a chair.
"So, Rookie," Henry boomed. "I was telling your father about that time on the obstacle course when that kid – Sam something or other – had the accident with the rope swing." He turned to Alan and continued on, making sure to glance over at the professor from time to time, too. "He jumped on to swing across the muddy pool and for some reason the rope snapped. So down into the water go Sam and this rope. The pool is right at six feet deep so we're all expecting the kid to pop up sputtering and embarrassed but unharmed at any second. Only he doesn't. All these trainees and instructors I've got are just staring at the water, some of them whispering and wondering why Sam hasn't come up for air. Your son is the only one who seems to be able to think under pressure and into the water he goes. It takes about a minute and a half but we finally see Don shoot up from the pool, an unconscious Sam in his arms." Henry shook his head and smiled at the memory of his favorite student. "I help your boy get him out of the water and we realize he's not breathing so Don clears his airway and goes to work. Before you know it, Sam coughs up a lungful of water right in Rookie's face."
"Wow," Charlie said.
"Wow is right," Henry agreed. "Know why it took your brother so long to pull the kid out?" The professor shook his head and Allison smiled. "That rope had somehow gotten knotted around the kid's legs and then tangled on a branch underwater. He had to work on the rope before he could bring Sam up for air. That's when I knew your brother would be one of the best agents the Bureau has ever been blessed with."
"You never told us about that," Charlie said accusingly.
"Never came up," Don shrugged. "Besides, that was a lifetime ago."
"It was, wasn't it?" Henry asked sadly.
"Tell us some more," Charlie requested, sounding like a kid wanting a bedtime story.
"Charlie, I'm sure Henry's tired…" Don began.
"No," the retiree cut him off. "I'm always willing to talk about my best trainee. Let's see, something else about your brother…"
Don sat, as patiently as possible, for the next hour and a half while his old mentor spoke about life as his instructor. There were tales from the gun range, the shooting house, the sparring ring, even the cafeteria and dorm halls. To Don's relief, Henry didn't repeat the undercover story he'd shared in the office earlier. Now I just have to make sure my team doesn't repeat that story to Charlie, Don sighed. He was drawn from his thoughts as Henry let out a loud yawn.
"I'm going to have to call it a night, Mister Eppes… Charlie. It sure was nice meeting Rookie's family."
"The pleasure was ours," Alan said warmly, embracing his son's old friend. "You're welcome back any time the retired life starts getting you down."
"I may just take you up on that."
"I'll go work on the case," Charlie told his brother. "I'll give you a call if I find something."
"It was nice to hear those stories. It'd be nice to hear you tell them, too."
The agent smiled and affectionately patted the younger man's shoulder. "I'll keep that in mind." He looked over at Henry and gave him a teasing look. "So old man, you ready to go back to your palace on wheels?"
"Hey, anywhere I can park is home."
"Yeah," Don chuckled. "But I bet most people don't call the parking lot of the Open Range Steakhouse 'home'."
"Home, home on the range," Henry sang in a loud, off-key voice.
"Never mind." Don waved his hands in surrender and rolled his eyes at his father and brother. "It's going to be a long drive."
"Thanks for dropping an old man off at home."
"You're not old, Henry," Don said with a grin. "You're just very wise." He studied the large RV parked in front of them and let out a low whistle. "You must have spent a fortune on this thing."
"No wife, no kids," the older man shrugged. "It was easy to build up my savings over the years."
"Still…" Don said as he admired the exterior of the vehicle. "It's got a lot of bells and whistles?"
"All of them, Rookie. Has to if I'm going to keep myself entertained while traveling."
"So where all have you been?"
"Left Virginia and did a tour of the southeast. I hit Miami to see what retired life was like and then sped out of town as fast as I could."
"Yeah," Don chuckled. "I don't see you as the Hawaiian tees and Bermuda shorts type of guy."
"And the nudist colonies were all booked up," Henry roared with laughter.
"Thanks for that image," the agent groaned. "So where else? Florida is a long way from LA."
"I stayed close to the coast. I stopped down in New Orleans and then made my way on to the great state of Texas. I tell you, you think Feds have egos and stories to tell? You ought to spend a while out there. Great people, though."
"You hit up Vegas? Gamble away some of your savings?"
"Not this time around," Henry answered. "I plan on traveling for a while though. Maybe next time."
Don's cell rang and he checked it, frowning as he saw Megan's number. "Work," he apologized.
"Go ahead," his friend smiled. "I'm not in a hurry."
"What's up, Megan?"
"We've got more bodies."
"We ran a search through NCIC and found five more murders of fences in the past three months. We sent the data over to Charlie and all five of these guys dealt with members of Georgopanos' organization."
"How did those not come to our attention?" Don demanded.
"They weren't in LA," she explained. "The first three were in Miami and then two in Houston."
"Not so far. I check the other major fencing city – New York – but it looks like our killer hasn't made it up there… yet."
"Did anyone on those cases find any evidence that might help?" Don asked hopefully.
"Nothing. Our guy is definitely a pro."
"Right," Don sighed. "Keep me posted." He flipped the phone shut and looked at Henry. "This case is going nowhere fast."
"More dead fences?"
"Yeah, and not a shred of evidence from any of them." Don shook his head. "I didn't mean to drag down your night, Henry. Where were we?"
"Talking about my travels."
"Right," Don nodded. "So where to from LA?"
"Across the Midwest, I think. Ultimately, I want to make it to New York City."
Don's stomach turned and he tried to keep his nervousness from showing. "You want to see the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building?"
"Yes," Henry nodded solemnly. "But I want to see where the towers stood, too. Where those terrorist cowards tried to destroy our country."
Don remained quiet as he studied his friend in the shadowy parking lot. Don took a deep breath and prayed his gut was wrong as he quietly asked "Texas – you went to Houston?"
Henry sighed and leaned against the RV. "Like I said earlier – people like you and me don't retire. It's in our blood."
No, it's not possible… "Why'd you really come to LA?" Don asked, his mouth dry and his head swimming.
"Because I want to see this great land we live in, Rookie. But I also want to make sure future generations can see it, too."
Don ran over the facts of the case in his head, frowning as the circumstantial evidence sent a chill down his spine. He and his team had assumed the killer was a professional because he knew about policing brass and cleaning up evidence, but a retired FBI agent and trainer would certainly know about that, too. And the timeline and locations of the murder lined up with Allison's travels. "Henry…"
"They fund the terrorists. They may not do it directly so they can pretend there's no blood on their hands, but they know where the money's going."
"Murder?" Don demanded. "That's your answer?"
"Self-defense," Henry countered. "They're attacking the US by funding these groups. I'm just stopping them from doing it again."
"Then arrest them – throw them in jail!"
"All the courts see is some lowlife who's never committed a violent crime. They get probation or a few months in jail. What does that do?" The older man stood up suddenly, prompting Don to draw his weapon. "I only went after the ones I knew had helped Georgopanos' crew. Only the guilty ones."
"You're not judge and jury," Don argued heatedly, his aim steady as he held his old friend at gunpoint. "You can't determine their sentence and the mete it out like that. You're supposed to believe in our justice system!"
"Our justice system is a joke," Henry spat. "I know it and so do you." He took a step toward Don, his eyes narrowing when the younger man shook his head. "You won't shoot me, Rookie."
"No, I won't because you're not going to move except to get on your knees, hands on your head." Don's cell rang, startling both men, but he kept his gun sure and steady, aimed at his old friend.
"Your team is looking out for you," Henry said as he nodded at the phone still clipped to the other man's belt. "You think those stories I told Granger and Sinclair about visiting Miami and Houston finally sank in? Reeves finally realized her profile could point to someone in the law enforcement community? Or that genius brother of yours ran down the list of connections to those fences and somehow found me? I made a point of selling to each one of those fences under a different name to avoid arousing suspicions. Once we met and traded gems for money, I killed them and took my merchandise back. That one little bag of diamonds cost me a fortune, but it's been worth every penny."
"On your knees," Don repeated forcefully. "Right now."
"Not tonight, Rookie. I've got work to do out there and you're going to let me go."
"Not a chance."
Henry grinned, something in his features slightly off and disturbing as he took another step toward Don. "You would really shoot me – the one who made you what you are today – to save some useless scum? Are your priorities really that skewed?"
"I'm not going to say it again," the agent warned, though inside he was wondering if he could actually shoot his old mentor. Much to his relief, the sound of sirens filled the air and grew closer to their location.
"I'll be…" Henry beamed with pride. "I guess your father and brother told your team where you were taking me. They sure didn't waste any time getting here."
"All the more reason to get on your knees."
"Or make the dramatic, last ditch effort to escape. Isn't that how it works in the movies?"
"Don't do it," Don tried to reason as the sirens grew so close they were almost deafening. "Don't throw your life away over them."
"Going to jail would be tantamount to throwing my life away, Rookie. Go ahead and save me the trouble." Henry stepped forward, his eyes pleading with Don to stop him.
"Stay where you are." The sirens were right on top of them now and Don could hear doors opening and footsteps running toward them.
A flash of something – relief, fear, conviction – crossed the retired agent's face and he nodded to his former student. "Do me proud, Rookie." He took an aggressive, hard step toward Don, a loud bang from the distance halting his movements and sending him crashing to the pavement – dead before he hit the ground.
Don sat on the back stoop of his brother's house, head in his hands as he tried to block out the images of the day. It seemed like he'd been riding an emotional rollercoaster forever, not less than twenty-four hours. Don still had no idea how a visit with his mentor turned from reminiscing about the good old days to experiencing the ultimate betrayal. Every time he tried understand what had happened he was left just as confused and twice as ill as before.
The agent didn't look up, not entirely sure if he wanted to talk to his father or not. Everything seemed so jumbled and detached… Don needed some time to work through things before he faced his father. How do I say 'I'm sorry I invited a serial killer into your home tonight'? It's not like they make a card for that occasion.
"Mind if I join you for a bit?"
Don lifted his head, not surprised to find that his father was already sitting next to him on the cold, concrete step. A feeling of shame crept over him and he returned his head to his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For what?" Alan inquired softly.
"Oh, I don't know… bringing a killer home?"
Don looked over at his father, certain he hadn't heard him correctly. "I didn't?"
"No." Alan took a deep breath and stared up at the starry night sky. "You brought your old instructor from Quantico to visit. And I must say it was wonderful to hear those stories about you."
"But he…" The agent stared at his father and tried to understand his level of calm. "I put you and Charlie in danger."
"No, you didn't. Why would your mentor want to hurt his favorite student's family?"
"Because he snapped?" Don suggested bitterly. "Because the job pushed him over the edge and he lost it? You know – the same reasons he was driving cross-country in an RV, killing fences as he went."
"You think it was the stress of the job?"
The question caught Don off guard and he quickly looked away from his father's eyes.
"Is that what you're afraid of?"
No, Dad, let's not go there. It's late, I'm all confused and I'm getting a killer headache.
"You're not him, Donny."
The agent braved a look at his father's face, relieved when he found only love and support in his kind features. "I know I'm not," he whispered. "But I'm a lot like him. Enough that it scares me."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you that I'm not scared? I know you'll never be what he was."
"You got a crystal ball stashed somewhere?"
"No," his father smiled at his son's attempt at humor. "Even better."
"Charlie ran some risk equation about me?"
"No. Well… he probably did, but that's not what I'm talking about."
"I'm tired, Dad," he sighed, a slight pleading quality in his voice. "I'm not sure how much more conversation I'm good for."
"It's in your heart, son. I know your heart and soul – probably even better than you do – and you are not capable of turning into what he did."
Don opened his mouth to argue the 'better than you do' part, but quickly shut it as he realized the older man was probably right. Still, there was one last thing bugging him… "Henry never married or had kids."
Alan remained silent, patiently studying his son and waiting for him to continue.
"Seems like I'm heading down that road too, don't you think?"
"No, I don't. I just don't think you've found the right woman yet and I commend you for not forcing anything that's not there."
Don's jaw dropped open and he looked at his father in disbelief. "Did you just make a positive comment about the fact that I'm not married? You – the man who drops hints with all the subtlety of a two-ton bomb?"
Alan smiled, ignoring the teasing comment as he locked onto his son's gaze. "Your friend didn't snap because he didn't have a family."
"But if he had… maybe they would have seen something and been able to stop him. Instead he spent his life alone, married to the job." Don blew out a slow breath and shook his head. "Just like me."
The older man draped an arm across his son's shoulders and – sensing his son needed the contact – hugged him close, resting his head on Don's while he rubbed his shoulder. "You're not alone, Donny. You may not have a wife or kids, but you have a brother and father who love you more than anything else in this world and will be here for you whenever you need them."
"Even if that's at…" Don consulted his watch and raised an eyebrow. "…one in the morning and they have to be up early?"
"As long as you bring the coffee."
Don let out a heartfelt laugh as he turned in his father's grip so he could embrace the older man. "Thanks for the pep talk, Dad. It really helped."
"Good." Alan tightened his embrace before releasing Don and pulling back. "Speaking of talking… there was something I wanted to ask you."
"Charlie said he'd been talking to your team earlier tonight and Colby made an interesting comment. Something about a pair of pants?"
Granger, you are so dead.
Sleepy's FTO Request
Characters: Don, O/C, the FBI team, Alan, Charlie, and anyone else you need (bad or good guy)
Setting: Eppes home; the FBI Offices; crime scenes (wherever you decide to take it)
Situation: Don's mentor from his early days in the FBI comes to town. He turns out not to be who he appears to be. (or the man Don knew.)
Mood: Start upbeat then morph to tension and angst
Reference/ the "word": Betrayal
- Take the plot and run where the muse leads but please include:
1- The mentor goes to the Eppes for dinner and shares a tale or two from Don's early years with the FBI (funny and/or angsty). Maybe the FBI team gets to hear a tale too as they sit around the office.
2- Some action/crime plot.
3- Don having doubts about himself by the end and has a talk with Alan about it.