Acknowledgements:

Omi as always
The BTN8rs - with apologies
The Numb3rs dot org crew - since I did the whole alphabet inspired by their challenge

Disclaimers:

"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend" - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
I do not own any Numb3rs characters nor do I have any rights to
anything related to the TV show Numb3rs. I plead fair use and claim
only my own writing and characters.

1986

The officer marched Don down the long hallway to the holding cells, holding on to his arm as his hands were cuffed behind his back.

The cuffs were removed and the cell door closed on him.

"The transport to juvie leaves in three hours," the officer said. "Plenty of time to get to know your cellmates."

Don turned around and looked at the other boys in the holding cell. Some glanced back with little to no interest while others glared challengingly, daring him to start something.

Don kept his head down and sat on the lone empty bench.

When the transport came, he was shackled hands and feet and attached to the other prisoners in the cell. They were led out slowly and walked into the van for the trip to Juvenile Hall Detention Center.

Upon arrival, Don had to give up his clothes and possessions and change into a standard issue prison orange jumpsuit. Once they were all checked in they were allowed to eat dinner before being shown to their cells.

Don's cellmate just glared at him and claimed the top bunk. Don didn't argue.

The night was long and he barely slept at all, the chill of incarceration finally getting to him. For a while he felt like he couldn't breathe, that the simple idea that he could not go outside when he wanted to robbed him of the fresh air he craved.

The next day he was released.

He stood in the sun outdoors, reluctant to go inside and close a door behind him.

At dinner he picked at his food, even though he was happy to be eating his mother's cooking rather than horrible prison food.

"So," his father said. "How did your Police Explorers overnight go? I know you were looking forward to seeing the Juvenile Detention System from the inside, but you haven't said anything since you got back. Was it educational?"

Don pushed his peas around on his plate and shrugged a little.

"Leave him be, Alan," his mother said quietly. "Some experiences you just need time to reflect on."

"I can't believe you went to jail on purpose," Charlie said with a smirk. "I mean, why would someone volunteer to go to juvie?"

Margaret hushed him and he went back to making patterns in his mashed potatoes.

"I'm glad I did it," Don finally said. "I wanted to understand what it was like and now I know."

His parents nodded.

"I know it's the last time you'll see the inside of Juvenile Hall, that's for sure," his father said, clapping him proudly on the back.

2006

Don walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a cell, waiting for the guard to open the door. Once it opened he stepped inside, nodding his greeting to the teenager sitting on the lower bunk.

"I've got nothing to say to you."

Don nodded and leaned up against the wall.

"That's fine. How about I talk instead? I could tell you about how your trial will go, about how long the judge is going to sentence you for..."

Don could see the boy pale. He'd only been in Juvenile Hall for two days, but was obviously unnerved by his sudden and unexpected confinement.

"Can you picture yourself in a cell for the next ten years? Is sticking by your friends worth a decade of your life?"

Shaken, the boy tried to look strong but failed.

"I'll only talk if you let me walk. Get me out of here."

Don shook his head. "No can do. We've got you on the stolen car so you're doing time regardless."

"So why should I help you?" he shot back.

"Because," Don moved to stand over him. "You can do ten years time in a dank cell where they only let you out to eat, or you can do a couple years in minimum security where you get to go out and see the sun every day." He crouched down beside the boy and spoke in a low voice. "Being locked up? It drives you crazy. You start to crave the sun, you're dying just to walk around freely and you feel like you can't breathe unless you get some fresh air... Right... now..." He put extra emphasis on the last words and watched as the boy started gasping slightly.

"You don't know what it's like in here," the boy said, finally letting his misery show.

"Actually I do know," Don said kindly. He pulled up a chair and sat down. "So let's talk..."