Disclaimer:Numb3rs isn't mine. I wouldn't forget such an important thing like owning a TV show… would I?

Author's Note:Ah, an ambitious plot bunny. I know the amnesia thing has been done a lot, but I wanted to satisfy my curiosity about a question I had since I was a kid i.e. would we still be who we are if we had no memories? I'm pretty sure I would never eat escargot, memory or no memory. And since my mother would probably frown on my making Brother #2 a test subject, Don has to be the guinea pig. It's ok, he's fictional, I'll put him back… somehow.

Medical Disclaimer: I'll be using good old-fashioned logic, as well as an article by a genuine doctor on InteliHealth. Let me know if you want the link. For everything else, I'm cashing in my creative license. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Oh, and don't you love the title? I think I love the title more than anything else. It's a McCarthy-ism originally, but I took it from an episode of Angel.

A million thanks and more to Shaolingrrl for being my beta and all around good cheer. However, any and all remaining weirdness is mine.

Had to fix a minor plot error in this, sorry if it results in an extra alert for the chapter!

Are You Now, or Have You Ever Been?

Chapter One-Prologue

The ray of light passes through the prism and breaks into seven colors:

Orange…the glow fills the cluttered space dominated by the curly-haired mathematician as he twirls his laughing girlfriend in a dance to music only they can hear, revelling in the happiness of the moment…

Violet…the cosmologist observes the florist's cart and his wares for the better part of an hour, as other customers come and go around him, finally deciding on a bouquet of violets with which to surprise his loved one when they meet for dinner that night; he had a feeling the colour would astonish her more than the flowers themselves. After all, one must widen one's horizons…

Indigo…the life-sustaining star begins its decline over the City of Angels, giving way to the indigo flares of the forthcoming night, slipping deeper and deeper into repose in this part of the world…

Green…the patriarch of the family smiles as he adds spinach to the mixture he prepares for dinner that night, knowing that both his sons would soon be voicing their protests over the hated vegetable…the assistant director gives his go ahead for the raid…

Yellow…the dark-haired federal agent barely notices the small devices attached to the base of the wall in time to shout 'Motion sensors,' before yellow fills the vision of everyone, amidst the sounds of explosion…

Red…the bald-headed teammate attempts to rouse the downed agent in front of him, a swinging flashlight showing him for a moment the streaks of red covering the face of his team lead and friend…

Blue…the box-shaped vehicle zooms through the city streets in a flurry of flashing lights and sounds, on its third run of the day to save the life of one of its occupants…

Charlie sprinted across the hospital parking lot, leaving Amita in his wake to lock the car. When he had received the call, it only took Charlie asking "Which hospital?" for Amita to grab his car keys off his desk and say, "I'm driving."

Charlie did not lessen his speed until he entered the hospital and caught sight of the familiar form of the FBI agent he had known longest, second to Don. David, still clad in his FBI body armour, looked out of place in the pristine ER hallway. He turned at the sound of a curly-headed typhoon headed his way and put up his hands in a placating gesture:

"Easy, Charlie, take a seat," advised David.

Charlie allowed himself to be led to a row of chairs where he and David wouldn't be in other people's way. He almost cringed at the faint smell of smoke surrounding David, and not the cigarette kind either, but his need for information and concern for his brother overrode all other instincts.

"How's Don? What have they said?" Charlie asked in a rush.

"That's the thing: they haven't said much. From what I can gather, none of Don's injuries are life-threatening, it seems. They're mostly concerned about how hard he hit his head when he got thrown into the wall," replied David.

"Uh huh…," Charlie absorbed this, "and how exactly did that happen, again?"

David sighed before answering Charlie's question: "The warrant for the raid we'd been planning for the better part of this week came through today and AD Wright gave his OK as well. Don and Colby went in first with the primary SWAT team. We didn't notice the motion sensors but Don's last-minute warning allowed the other teams to be more careful but… he and the others weren't able to retreat fast enough."

"If a bomb did go off, how come Don is still alive?" Charlie hated how the question sounded but… it had to be asked. There were only so many times his brother could be an anomaly before his number came up.

"The devices attached to the sensors were only meant to incapacitate, not do permanent damage. At least, we hope. Something must have malfunctioned, because for incapacitation purposes, they should have gone off a bit earlier. And if to kill, they should have been bigger. So in some regards we were lucky, in others… not so much," concluded David.

"How's everyone else?" asked Charlie, nodding at Amita who had joined them and had taken a seat next to Charlie.

"Nobody dead on our side and it looks like it's going to stay that way. Colby is somewhere around here, getting stitches in his arm. Megan's standing in for Don at the scene, and then later at the office. She wanted you to know she'll get here as soon as she can."

"Good," nodded Charlie distractedly. He surveyed the room around them before asking quietly:

"How bad is it really, David?" The question was vague but he knew David would know what he was asking about.

David sighed again. It was all he was meant to do that night, it seemed. "Honestly, I have no idea. I was the first to reach him but… he didn't wake up then and the nurse said he still hasn't woken up yet. We'll just have to wait and see what the doctors say…" David nudged Charlie in the shoulder and gave a small smile. "But Don will be fine, don't worry. When I say the Eppes men have hard heads, I don't only mean figuratively."

Amita snorted at this and Charlie allowed a twitch of the lips in gratitude of this lightening of the tension surrounding them. However, it proved to be short-lived as Charlie heard his name being called out by his anxious father who had just arrived at the hospital. Charlie was prevented from replying by the arrival of a nurse calling out:

"Eppes family?" and after a series of nods from all around, "the doctor can see you now about Agent Eppes' condition."

EENIEMEENIEMINAMOE

Charlie sat in a chair beside his brother's bed, elbow on one of the chair's arms, resting his head against his hand. His father had gone in search of a decent cup of coffee and perhaps some sandwiches from the hospital's cafeteria and Charlie had been left behind to try not to mimic his brother in sleep, having already nodded off a few times, then jerked awake at the last moment.

Don, however, showed no signs of waking at the moment and Charlie was left to wonder if it would be inappropriate to try and rouse his brother by tickling his feet with a feather. His plans were dashed when he remembered that a hospital would be very unlikely to keep a store of feathers somewhere within its premises.

When Charlie and his dad had first walked into the room, Charlie had winced at the colourful bruises dotting his brother's torso and arm, but fortunately the gash on Don's forehead had been kept from view by a large piece of gauze. The doctor had listed all of Don's thankfully minor injuries and although he could give no exact approximation of Don's waking up, chances were that he eventually would.

Charlie looked up when he heard someone enter the room, expecting his father, but finding instead Dr. Bourne, Don's doctor, standing there.

"Hello. Hope I didn't wake you. Just wanted to do one last check-up on our G-man here before I go home for what's left of the night," said the doctor somewhat cheerily.

"Na, I wasn't asleep. Although you'd think 'monkey see, monkey do…'" muttered Charlie.

"You would think," smiled the doctor. "But in this case, I'm hoping Don is the monkey and seeing you awake would speed him al-- holy hell. Looks like someone's decided to join us," said Dr. Bourne, getting over the fright of seeing his patient with his eyes open and staring directly at him.

Charlie scrambled to his feet at the first sound of the doctor's exclamation and stood next to his brother's bed.

"Don?" he ventured, hoping his brother would turn to look at him but the most he was rewarded with was a muttered "Where am I?" as his brother strove to get his bearings.

"Hold your horses, Charlie," said Dr. Bourne, pulling out a penlight and flicking it on.

"Don. I'm Dr. Bourne, your attending physician on this fine August night. You're at UCLA Medical Center. Do you remember what happened?"

"No," mumbled Don, blinking his eyes rapidly to get them fully open.

"That's fine, that's normal in cases like these. Follow my finger, would you?" said Dr. Bourne, and as Don complied he said, "Alright. I'm going to list four things and I want you to remember them for me, ok?" and at Don's grunt of assent, he said, "Chocolate, tree, orange, math. Keep them in mind, yeah?" Don allowed himself a minute nod of his head.

"Good. You're going great. Can you tell me your name?"

"Don Eppes,"

"Date of birth?"

"July 15th, 1970,"

"Who's the current president of the United States?"

Don opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. A look of confusion overtook his features, followed by a look of concentration before being replaced by a look of panic. "I don't know. Why don't I know? Why don't I remember?" asked Don in a rush.

"Calm down, it's ok. It's probably your brain not being very happy at being treated like it was tonight and is being a bit temperamental. I'm going you to schedule you for some tests and we'll take it from there, ok? Before I go, can you repeat the four items I asked you to remember?"

"Math, tree, chocolate, orange," replied Don with a pause between each item.

"Excellent," commended the doctor. With a last pat on his patient's arm and a sympathetic look at Charlie, who was staring at him wide-eyed, Dr. Bourne left the room.

Don turned his head to look at the silent person on his left who wasn't wearing any hospital apparel he was familiar with.

"Who are you?"

Charlie jerked in surprise as Don spoke up, tearing his eyes away from the door through which Dr. Bourne had left, and his heart leapt into his throat as he realized that his brother was asking who he was.

TBC

Let me know your own thoughts on the matter. How much of you would you still be if you had hardly any memories? Now that is one convoluted sentence.

Man, it feels good to be back. Usually I write/post once a week but I wanted to be a few chapters up of this. And I still have Z is for Zanzibar to write... and the rest of my alpha track. And all the stuff in school. But look on the brightside, we might all be uber-busy, but the new season starts in 3 weeks.