Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs.

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Alan didn't even know why he tried. It had rained every other day this week. They had only gotten to Hole 3 when the bottom dropped out. Not only was it rain, it was freezing rain. He shivered, climbing the stairs a little faster to get to the promised relieving warmth of the shower. As he trudged his way up the last few steps, he noticed something was off.

The door to Don's old room was cracked, almost closed. He heard the sound of the squeaky bed as someone rolled around in the sheets. Alan walked gingerly toward the door; it was only three and no one should be home for at least two hours. "Donnie?"

Alan saw his oldest son curled in the too small bed, bare-chested and sweaty. There was a trashcan lying next to the bed. "Donnie?" He called again. Don turned to look at Alan.

"Yeah?" He sounded pitiful. Alan walked over, took a seat on the edge of the bed and gently placed his hand over Don's forehead. Don was too tired to swat it off.

"You're burning up. Did you get sick at work?" Alan's tone reminded Don of the times when Charlie was sick as a kid. Charlie always seemed to be sick. He should probably stay away.

He nodded weakly. "Megan made me come here. She drove… my car is still at work…" His voice, if more volume had been behind it, might have been indignant. Instead, he sounded strangled and exhausted. "You can leave. I don't want to get you sick too. Tell Charlie not to come in here." There he went again, always protecting Charlie. It bothered Alan.

"Charlie's fine. He had this a few weeks ago, I think. He won't be home for a few hours; maybe you'll be better by then." The thought made Don more nauseous. He shooed his father out. As Alan walked toward the shower, he heard the unpleasant sounds of his son's illness.

Don was just so stubborn. He just couldn't be taken care of. He probably hadn't slept well recently either; the case they had been working on had really been eating at both of his kids. But Charlie, who worked hard, didn't work himself to the bone like Donnie did.

The hot shower felt good. The cold weather in September was unusual for L.A., but then again winter was supposed to come early this year. After Alan was dressed, he brought a cool washcloth from the bathroom and peeked into Don's room. Don was totally out, unaware of the cloth being put across his forehead and over his eyes. Alan would probably get in trouble for it, but it was good to keep the fever down. He did want Don to get better. But then again, if he got only slightly better, it would be back to working nonstop on the case.

Alan trudged down the stairs, hungry, but reluctant to cook anything that usually smelled the whole house up. He decided on ordering pizza, which wouldn't be too powerfully scented. He waited patiently, watching the news and some replays of a baseball game he missed. The pizza came and he thankfully devoured a few pieces, leaving some for Charlie.

The doorbell rang, and Alan wondered who it would be. As he peeked through the little glass hole in the door, he was confused when it was only Charlie. He opened the door and took in the scattered professor. "A bunch of my kids were sick today and I had to get the work to them… I'm starving… Dinner?"

Alan nodded and moved out of the way so Charlie could enter with his armful of files and papers and an overstuffed briefcase. "There's pizza in the kitchen." He waited until Charlie was settled in to let him know about Don.

"Wow… Don's actually taking the day off?" Charlie glanced at the staircase, wondering how sick his brother really was. "He must be bad off…"

"I think the only reason he is here is because Megan made him come… He probably would've stayed or just gone to his place. But he needs someone… he's pretty pitiful." Alan's concern made Charlie smile. Finally, they were getting to fuss over Don. It was about time.