Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs, obviously.

Chapter One

~*#*~

The dull thud of running feet echoed off the buildings, as Don pursued a dark shape down the alley way.

Another raid, always at least one runner and naturally, he drew the short straw.

"Freeze!" He shouted, gun in hand. "FBI!" As if that ever worked.

Case in point, the shadow disappeared around an even darker corner and Don slowed his pace, approaching with caution.

Completely alert, he crept around the corner and found himself at a dead end. Taking note of a streetlight illuminating part of the alley, he carefully raised his gun and left the cover of the building.

It seemed like whoever he was chasing had completely disappeared and he was cursing himself when something hit him in the side, with enough force to knock him to the ground. Hearing his gun clatter to the ground, Don rolled to his back and grabbed for it, only to have it slip out of his grasp.

A shadow fell over him and Don looked up at his attacker, eyes wide with surprise… and recognition.

Distinctly feminine features were distorted by shadow and a stocking cap covered her head, but catlike green eyes regarded him warily.

After a long moment, she looked at his gun in her hand and slid the clip out, tossing it to the side. Jacking the bullet out of the chamber, the rest of the gun followed suit.

As she walked away, Don distantly thought to follow her, but at that moment an exhaust pipe discharged into the alley. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.

~*#*~

Back at the field office, Don stepped off the elevator, wincing slightly.

"What's the damage?" Megan as she approached, file in hand.

"Nothing broken or cracked." He answered, as they made their way to the bullpen. "Gonna have one hell of a bruise, though." She smiled slightly, handing him the file.

"This might make you feel better. The lab ran the prints on your gun."

"And?" Opening the file, he paused almost imperceptibly and Megan's eyes narrowed.

"Alex Reed. Career criminal, and we have no idea what she was doing at the meth lab tonight. But it's a start." Nodding, Don looked up from the file as they approached the team's workspace and sat down at his desk.

"How are reports coming?" He asked David and Colby, and the two men grinned.

"Done." Colby said, grinning and Don frowned. He must have been at the hospital for longer then he'd thought. "Unless we have more work to do." Colby added, shooting a meaningful look at the file in his boss's hand.

Leaning back, Don checked his watch and shook his head.

"Nah. Go home and get some sleep. It can wait till morning." He smirked as David pumped his fist, grinning and Colby grabbed his jacket. As they left, he shot a look at Megan. "How about you? Report done?"

She nodded, though she didn't leave quite as fast.

"Are you okay?" She asked and Don raised an eyebrow. "You just seem a little off tonight."

He smiled, finding himself grateful for her concern and nodded. "I'm fine. Just a little bruised." Megan snorted slightly.

"Alright. Have a good night… and get some sleep, yourself." Grabbing her jacket, she nudged his shoulder and headed for the elevator.

Shaking his head, Don turned to his desk and laid the file open on his desk, studying the mug shot. It was definitely the woman from the alley; she had the same green eyes. More details were visible; short, curly red hair. Freckles. Height, five foot four inches.

Leaning back in his chair, he opened a drawer and pulled out another file folder, opening it next to the one that was already open. This file had only a few newspaper clippings.

Don picked up a clipping that had two pictures on it. The first was of an eighteen wheeler collision with a much smaller car, both of them on fire.

He could smell the smoke, hear the tires skidding on the pavement and feel the force of the explosion, almost as if it had just happened right in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, Don set the clipping down on his desk, the second picture level with the mug shot.

The second picture was a copy of another mug shot, black and white and nearly identical to the mug shot of Alex Reed. Studying them both, it was almost uncanny. Impossible. The only difference was the expressions on their faces. The black and white was expressionless, stony.

Looking at the colored mug shot, though, she seemed to be smiling.

Lips pressed together, Don leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

There was a caption above the first photo. Fugitive Dies in Collision Evading FBI