Disclaimer: No, I don't own Numb3rs or the people who are in it. No matter how much I wish. I don't.

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Alan smiled as the door opened. "Hey, Donnie."
"Hi Dad." Don replied. "Smells good."
"It should." Alan said with a smile, "Go and get your brother, dinner will be ready in just a few."
"Alright." Don said, he started walking into the living room, then he turned back and went into the kitchen, "Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Where is Charlie?"
"Oh." Alan said, "He's just in the garage." Alan looked at his son, "Wait. Before you go, tell me what happened."
"W-What happened?" Don asked, backing away slightly.
His father gave him a stern look, "Yes. What happened? You are walking as if you got hurt today."
Don sighed and sat down. "Charlie came by the office today to help us with a case."
"And he helped?"
"Do you want to hear the story or not?" Don asked with a smile.
Alan waved his hands, showing his son that he would stay quiet.
Don continued, "And Charlie did help us. A lot. He told us where the perps where and everything. But when we got there, they weren't to happy to see us and they started shooting."
"You got shot?!" Alan yelled at his son.
"I was wearing my vest and all I got is some bruised ribs. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?! You were shot at, Donnie. That is a big deal." Alan scolded his eldest son.
"Alright. Fine. It's a big deal." Don said, getting a beer from the fridge, "Just don't tell Charlie."
"Why would I not tell Charlie?" Alan asked.
Don took a drink, "Because if you tell him then he will just freak out. And I don't want him to be doing the P vs. NP again. You know how he would react to something like this."
Alan nodded, "Fine. Fine" He sighed, "Just go and get him."
Don nodded and made his way to the garage.

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What Don and Alan didn't know is that while in the garage, Charlie could smell the food. His stomach growled. He put down his chalk and clapped his hands together, getting all the excess off them. He had had a good day, he even saw Don and the rest earlier. Don said that he was going to come over for dinner, but Charlie knew that you couldn't always count on Don for that, being a FBI Agent and all.
When he was done putting everything away he opened the door and made his way to the house, he heard his dad and brother talking. Before Charlie could open the door, he heard Alan yell something at Don, something about Don being shot.
Charlie closed his eyes and listened. He couldn't stay for the whole conversation. He had gotten his brother shot at. He ran back into the garage. He had to do something.

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Don could hear the frantic noise when chalk met board. He smiled and shook his head, that was Charlie for you. He opened the door and stepped inside. "Hey, Buddy. Time to eat."
Charlie didn't stop writing.
"Buddy. Did you hear me?"
Charlie still didn't stop writing.
"Charlie." Don's tone was getting annoyed, the clack of the chalk was making his nervous - with how fast it moved. "Charlie." Don said again, stepping toward his brother. He put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Charlie?"
Charlie just kept writing. He didn't stop. He kept going faster and faster.
Don looked at the black board. He recognized some of the writing. Why would he recognize it? "Oh. Shit." Don dropped his beer bottle and then he tried grabbing Charlie without hurting him, but Charlie would not movie. Don sighed and ran in the house. "Dad! Dad!"
"Donnie?! What is it?" Alan came striding over to him, "What's wrong?"
"It's Charlie!" Don yelled.
"What about Charlie?! Is he hurt?! Do I need to call 9-1-1?"
"He's doing P vs. NP." Don answered him.
"Oh my." Alan said slowly.