Author's note: Welcome to my first Numb3rs fic! I never thought I'd actually write for this, but when inspiration strikes, the pen starts moving. I hope you enjoy. More at the bottom.

And of course a Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs or anything related. Nor am I profiting from this, except maybe my mind is expanding, but I don't think you can win that in a lawsuit!

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Charlie awoke. He was laying on his back on top of the covers of his bed. The textbook he must have been working with last night when he fell asleep was open, half on his chest, half on the bed. He lifted his head off the pillow to survey the damage his sleep had caused. Math notes and what unfortunatly looked like term papers were strewn across the room, on the floor, covering his desk and on his bed. They rustled quietly from the breeze created by the ceiling fan. He lay still for a while trying to calculate how fast it needed to spin to create a breeze that would blow the rest of the papers off his bed, or at least the ones he wasn't laying on.

Noises from the kitchen downstairs brought Charlie out of his current train of thought. He guessed that his father was making breakfast. It was a logical conclusion until he turned his head to look at his alarm clock. It was almost 11:45am! A wave of panic hit Charlie; he couldn't remember if it was Monday or Tuesday. He had come up to his room to grade papers and get away from his father and brother as they watched a baseball game on Saturday afternoon. That had been a couple of days ago, and he had kind of gotten lost in the numbers again.

If today were Monday, it would be okay because he had no classes to teach, he was just having lunch with Amita to go over parts of her thesis. But if today was Tuesday he was in big trouble because not only had he missed his lunch with Amita, but also he had a noon class. A noon class that would be expecting graded term papers back, the same papers that were strewn across his bedroom.

He leapt off his bed and ran to the top of the stairs. "Dad! Is it Monday or Tuesday?" he yelled.

"Monday," his Dad, Alan, called from the kitchen.

"Oh thank Heavens!" Charlie sighed under his breath and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

"Does this mean you're rejoining the land of the living?" Alan asked. He waited a bit and called Charlie's name again, but was only met with the sound of running shower water, which was good enough for him.

Meanwhile, Charlie had started the shower running, but it was not his present concern. Last Thursday he had noticed a small bump on his right let where it met his hip and had guessed that a bug had bit him while he was working in the garage or something. He had waited for it to go away. Now it was Monday and not only had it not gone away, but it was bigger and tender to his touch. He was still certain it wasn't a big deal, but he decided to ask his dad if he had any cream he could rub on it or something after he got out of the shower.

Alan was just finishing up the world's best meatball sandwich when Charlie came down the stairs. "Do you want a sandwich?" he asked his son.

"No thanks, Dad, I've got a lunch appointment with Amita at 1:15," Charlie explained as he poured himself a mug of coffee. He fiddled with the mug a bit before bringing up the question with his dad. "Um, Dad? Do we have any medicine for spider or bug bites? I think something bit me while I was out in the garage."

"I'm not sure, son. Let me have a look at it."

"No! Its kind of in a sensitive spot!"

"Where?"

Charlie pointed to the spot on his leg near his hip.

"Charlie," Alan started calmly, resting a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "I am your father and I am a man. You don't have anything I don't have, or haven't already seen. Now come on, I can't help you unless I take a look at it."

Charlie finally relented to his father's wishes and pulled down his pants, exposing the lump on his leg. He wasn't sure why he found this whole situation so embarrasing, but he did. He didn't watch as his father examined him, choosing rather to stare at the ceiling and recite prime numbers in his head, but by doing so he missed the growing concern on his father's face.

"Charlie, I don't think this is a bug bite. There is no puncture mark or anything," Alan observed. "I don't like it. I think we'd better take you to the doctor."

"Dad! No! I've, I've got things to do, and, and…"

"Charlie, don't fight me on this, now go get in the car!"

"But I'm meeting Amita for lunch!"

"You can meet her later, but we'll both feel better about this after I take you to the doctor."

"Oh all right," Charlie gave in. He went to go call Amita as his dad grabbed the car keys.

XXX

Don Epps was having a particular heinous day. What should have been an open and shut case was not only still open, but it had become exponentially more complicated. What had started as a routine drug bust turned into a major drug operation with terrorist ties. That's when the FBI had been called in. Now they were tracking the flow of illegal drugs back to the source. Charlie had stopped in to help last week, using math problems to track possible locations and directions of drug flow through the city, but studying Charlie's work five days later, Don couldn't make heads or tails of it. He was just thinking about calling his little brother when Terry popped her head in.

"Don, we've just gotten confirmations on three more drug spots. Do you thing Charlie can plug them into his formula?"

"I was just about to call him with some questions of my own. I'll ask," Don reached for his phone and dialed the house. He was surprised to get the answering machine. Normally on Mondays at least one Epps man was home. He hung up and dialed Charlie's cell phone. After a few rings the line was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Dad?" Don was surprised to hear his father's voice. "I thought I dialed Charlie's phone."

"You did. He's just finishing up with the doctor. He should be out in a second," Alan explained.

Don was taken aback. "Why is Charlie at the doctor's?"

"Well," Alan started but stopped. "Wait a second Don, Charlie's out." Alan had pulled the phone away, but Don could still hear them speaking.

"Ready?" Alan asked.

"Yeah, I just need to schedule a biopsy for Wednesday."

"A biopsy? But Charlie, what happened?" Don could hear the concern in his father's voice.

"Can we talked about it later? I just want to get out of here," Charlie's haggled voice replied.

"Sure son. Oh, your brother is on the phone."

"Tell him I'll call him back, okay?"

Alan put the phone back to his ear as Charlie walked to the scheduling desk. "He's going to have to call you back Don."

"Dad, what's going on? Is Charlie okay?" Don could hear the panic in his own voice. He knew the word biopsy well from his mother's own bought with cancer just over a year ago. Several horrible situations arose in his mind, each one worse that the last.

"Don, maybe you should come home for dinner tonight," Alan replied.

"I'm coming now if I can. I'll see you soon," Don hung up the phone and started collecting papers off his desk. He had totally forgotten that Terry was even there until she spoke.

"Don, what happened?" he was thankful for the concern in her face and voice.

"Dad took Charlie to the doctor's. I'm not sure why, but I heard the word biopsy."

Terry walked over and sat on the edge of Don's desk. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back in his chair so their eyes met. "Don, just because Charlie needs a biopsy does not mean that he has cancer, nor does it mean he is going to die like your mother."

"I know. But what if he does have it? What if he does…" he let his voice trail away. He didn't trust himself to say those words. He didn't want to think about what happened to his mother, that it could now happen all over again. He didn't want to think if he and his dad could survive that again. He snapped out of that train of thought. He needed to keep his head in the game.

"Look Terry, can you cover for me? Say I've gone to consult with Charlie about his findings or something. I don't want anything getting out until I know exactly what's wrong."

"Sure thing, Don."

"Thanks," and with that he gathered up the last of his notes and headed for his car.

XXX

When Don walked through the front door he found his father on the living room couch, nursing a cup of something that looked like scotch, staring at that spot in the room. It was the spot where they had kept mom when she had gotten so bad she couldn't make it upstairs anymore, where she lay before she went to the hospital for good. Don walked in and sat down next to his father.

"Dad, what happened?"

Alan let the floodgates open and related how they found the lump on Charlie's leg, that the doctors wanted to take a closer look since it looked like an infected lymphnode. "We should know by Friday if, if…" Alan couldn't finish the sentence. It took all his might to hold back the tears.

"Dad," Don comforted him. "Charlie isn't going to die, we'll get through this together. Don't worry." He put a reassuring arm around his father and hoped he sounded more confident then he actually was. "Where is Charlie anyways?"

"In the garage."

"How's he holding up?"

"Well he hasn't reverted back to that P thingie yet, so that's a good sign."

"I'm going to go check on him."

Alan nodded. "Hey Don?" Don turned around. "Thanks for being such a good son and brother." Don gave his dad a weak smile and headed towards the garage.

He found Charlie working there as if nothing horrible had happened today. He had a piece of chalk behind his right ear and one in his hand. The dust streaked his face and clothing. Charlie was checking his work on the board against some notes he had made earlier and was not aware of his brother's presence until Don spoke.

"Anything new?" Don asked openly.

"No, just rechecking some things on the last drug figures. Anything new with you?"

"Terry sent you some more data to plug in, and I had some questions about the projected hot spots where we haven't found activity yet. How you holding up?"

"Oh I'm fine."

"Charlie," Don gave him a stare which Charlie knew meant 'I'm your older brother and you can't hide things from me.'

"Dad told you didn't he."

"Yeah, he did."

"Oh" Charlie went silent and returned to checking his numbers.

"Charlie, you can't just ignore this away, you know."

Charlie looked back at his brother, "I know. I'm not, really! I just, well, don't want to worry until we know exactly what it is. Statistically I'm probably just fine."

"That's optimistic, that's good." Don strode over to his brother and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Don," Charlie said in a quiet, wavering voice.

"Yeah buddy?"

"Dad said this morning that we'd both feel better after we went to the doctor's. Well you know what?"

"What's that?"

"I don't feel better," Don could see the tears weld up in Charlie's eyes, and he could only bring his brother into a hug.

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The return of the Author's note: I just wanted to let ya'll know that this is actually based on a real life experience I had while I was living in German serving a mission for my church. I was living with 3 other women, and my good friend Holly had this situation happen to her. Poor thing had to go back to the states for treatment, but she recovered and we all learned something from the experience. Her story was a bit more complicated though since she lost the packet that contained all her medical records and her biopsy slides the night before she was to return to the states. It sort of got lost in with the mail and was sent to the post office, but we managed to get it back. It was all a trying experience.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this so far, and would like to express your feeling in a review! Thanks so much for reading and look forward to the next installment!