One full episode. Timeframe is undecided, but Megan is already gone, so somewhere around the end of season 4, start of season 5. Usual script-pairings for those who were wondering, plus one fic-pairing surprise in the future.

Disclaimer: I don't own numb3rs, math, it's concept on math for crimes, and it's sexy characters… especially Colby (though I sort of wish I did :3)

The cold wind stung the bare back of Don Eppes as he stood in the terrace of Robin's apartment. He could not sleep, nor could he relax, and had only been in bed for a few minutes just so he could be with Robin until she entered deep slumber. How could he sleep, when there were so many things troubling him? Unsolved cases going on for ages, and new ones on top of that. It was a prison he cannot escape. A prison of problems. He sighed involuntarily. He was tired. He was deathly tired. He had been carrying most of the load for his team. For David, Colby and Nikki. For Charlie. He shielded them from the dirty side of the job; the blame, the after threats, the vengeance. And tomorrow, when he and Robin would separate with a smile, he would plunge again in the world he had grown to love. And hate.

His phone suddenly vibrated on top of the mahogany cabinet, creating a slight ruckus. He quickly ran inside and picked the phone, hoping that he wouldn't disturb her. He held his breath as he saw Robin shifting her position ever so slightly and assume to her deep breathing. Don exhaled and relaxed. Thankfully she wasn't able to hear that.

"Eppes." He whispered, moving back to the terrace where he could talk a bit louder.

"Don, there's a dead body in front of the house of the Irish consulate." It was Granger speaking, which was pretty logical. Colby was always the one nearest to where the commotion normally was. Home of the beer and the ale.

Don checked his watch. Half past twelve. So much for dead hour. "Yeah, I'll be there."

He quickly closed his phone and started wearing his shirt and coat. Geez. Not even an hour for rest. Robin was still asleep when he closed the door. Lucky her.

- - -

"Looks like a common hit and run case." Don said, looking at the asphalted ground for the trail of blood, as the men carried a sheet covered. He arrived later than he had expected, though there was no traffic. No one questioned his purpose and he was glad they didn't. He didn't know how to tell them how tired he was of his job. He suddenly figured out why Megan chose to work somewhere else.

"We're guessing it's the consulate. The hair looked Irish, though his face is pretty much smashed up so we can't be too sure." David tried recall the image. He arrived as soon as Colby called, and found himself staring at an unidentifiable man. The eyelids sunk to fill the space where the eyeballs were supposed to stay. Both of the hands were severed, which was impossible in a hit and run case.

Don nodded. "Alright. Any leads?"

"So far… none. Though to back up the consul theory of yours, no one was inside the consul's house." Liz joined them, looking more haggard than before. She had just finished a guest lecture down in Quantico, droved all the way back to Los Angeles and had arrived only a few hours ago. There were dark circles around her eyes and she did not stand as tall as she usually would stand, though Don was guessing it went beyond the lecture and the drive. He gave her a worried looked, which obviously unnerved Liz. "I'm okay Don."

"Here." Colby appeared from behind, passing Liz a cup of strong coffee, as he took a spot beside David, joining the small circle of his team. He had found the reluctant witness who reported the incident in awhile ago and had promised witness protection if she had a long narration of the whole thing (which she had). She was being secured by some agents for the moment. He gave Don a plain I-know-what-you-did-awhile-ago look before sharing his part in the story. "Old grandmama over their said she saw a dark full-size van pulling over in front of the consul's gate and driving away quickly a few minutes after. She didn't pay much attention until after she saw the body… which was a few minutes after the van left"

"Okay, so no suspect, one witness, one van, no faces, no one in the consul's house." Don squeezed his temples in between his forefinger and thumb, trying to calm himself down, ignoring the annoying look on Colby's face. Not a hard one, please. Why did it have to be now? He wanted to vent everything out, but he can't. It wasn't in his position to complain now.

"Why don't we call Charlie? He does have a few magic tricks on faces up his sleeve" Liz suggested, grateful more for the warmth of the coffee, not so much the caffeine. She was so tired she was immune to any upper. Excluding of course, drugs. All she wanted to happen right now was to get the immediate things done so she could sleep her ass off and double her efforts the next day. The immediate things being one, find the evidence, two, document and seal for observation, three, find witnesses, talk to them, and four, call Charlie and ask for his help. He was always a useful person.

"Yeah sure." Don said, already busying himself with his phone, of which—he observed—already had five missed calls, all obviously from Robin. He ignored them first, did what his job required him and called home. Three rings, six rings… no one was picking up. Charlie was up for an early-nighter, surprisingly. Don did not trouble himself to persevere in his efforts. A brain well rested would work better in the morning. "Nobody's picking up. We'll just have him tomorrow"

"In the meantime," Don continued, thinking quickly what else was needed to be done, all while trying to shorten his explanation to Robin in a text message. "Colby and David, you second search the consul's grounds for anything; bullet holes, wallets, cellphones, jewelry… but only the grounds. I don't want you going in the house again. Liz… you go get yourself some rest"

"I can still—" Liz defended, but was cut short by a piercing scream in the air.

HELP!!! SOMEBODY PLEASE!!!

Their help-oriented ears picked up a strong distress signal. Panicked, check, Pitchy, check, Woman, check… no doubt this was real. All four grabbed the guns on their pockets and walked cautiously towards the source of the voice, namely, the house of the consulate. But there was no need to go far. A woman whose whole body was covered in blood and dirt crawled from behind one of the clumps of bushes in the house's lawn.

(To be continued...)

Cliffers are da bomb!

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This story is dedicated to faLLen-anGel-19-SasuSaku and to Miss Min.