Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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The third thing they did was beg.

Alan rose from Don's bed Thursday morning and sat at its edge. He ran his hand along the center of the mattress, feeling coolness where his sons' bodies used to lay and provide warmth. Charlie had not fully slept since Sunday night, taking short naps on the cold cement of the garage, refusing even a blanket or small throw pillow, as if hiding in a dungeon whenever his mind and body shut down and he was no longer receiving solace from his numbers.

Trying to rise, Alan had slipped to his knees from his own lack of any real sleep, his emotions battering into his soul in waves and falling back again, dragging the last dredges of his hope behind it. He twisted his body and rested his forehead on the edge of the bed, pulling lamely at the blankets and began to pray. He told God of all the things he would do if he could only have his son back- the charities he would donate to, the things he would never eat again, the places he would never go, the people he had seen on TV who he would help, the dedication and prayers he would say daily, hourly, minutely- if he could just hold his son safely in his arms again. He tried bargaining with God, changing his offers from one to another as he believed he was receiving no response, finally resting his head on the floorboards and losing his mind to his wailing laments once again.

He was unaware that God had listened.

Charlie was busy writing on his chalkboards, unknowingly having made his own bargain with God.

His solution was simple; he needed to solve P v. NP. The last time Charlie was losing someone in his life, he had been faced with this same challenge. On Monday, when he first began working on this problem again, it had briefly crossed his mind how he had also worked on it while his mother was dying.

And this morning, after he had written down another series of numbers and taken a break that was long enough for him to wipe the sweat from his brow and do nothing else, it had suddenly come to him.

God wanted him to solve this problem.

How could he have not seen that before?

When his mother died, Charlie should have never stopped working on it. So God had taken away someone else he loved, to get his attention back on what He wanted Charlie to do.

This time, Charlie would do it.

He made that unspoken promise to God.

Charlie would trade giving the world the solution of P v. NP in exchange for God giving him his brother.

He thought it was a fair bargain; after all, he was a mathematical genius, and well, God was God- he could do anything.

Now all Charlie had to do was the impossible.

He had to solve that which was unsolvable.

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Don had been comfortable the first day he'd come home with his mommy. He had fallen asleep in her arms and felt comforted. By Tuesday evening, he had already been complaining he wanted real food, not bottles. On Wednesday, he had spent the day alone in his bedroom, his punishment for having an accident. Thursday had been better, he'd not had too much to drink the night before and had stayed dry till Mommy gave him his bath; they had spent the day playing baseball and it had been fun- not like with Charlie and Larry, but enough that he had thought everything would be alright, forgetting the events of the previous day.

It was now Friday and all that hope was going to disappear. Don was entering the park with his mommy, her hand tightly in his. He held his head down, but when he saw there was no one nearby, he felt better than he had when they had first left the house. They went out into an open field and he waited while Mommy put on his special glove. Maybe he could be happy with her again, he thought, as she sent the ball his way.

They played like that for almost two hours, until Mommy said she needed rest. She left to sit on a nearby bench and Don started tossing the ball to himself, up above his head. He hadn't noticed a lot of people had entered the park during the interim; he blithely played, unaware of the presence of others until he heard a child laugh behind him.

Don turned towards the sound, grinning for the first time in days. He remembered the little boy who had played with him in the toy store. When he faced the owner of the laugh, his smile faded away. It was another boy that he faced, only this one was older, just shy of being a teenager, and he wasn't offering a welcome smile to Don- he was clearly laughing at him.

Lowering his eyes to the blue sailor top and shorts his mommy had made him wear, complete with a back flap and red tie, the white anchors on them matching the ones on his cap and socks, Buddy's ears pushed into the top of his shorts so he wouldn't get lost, Don could feel a blush come across his face. He pulled the blue baseball cap down, so low he could barely see, and then he ran over to his mommy, dropping beside her and burying his face in her neck and forcing his arm around her stomach, breathing hard so he wouldn't cry; he just couldn't let that boy see him cry.

Melinda was sitting talking with two other women; they each had a stroller and a baby inside. They had been in the process of exchanging stories when Don had appeared at his mommy's side.

"Ohhhhh," Catherine cried to Melinda. She was a young blond with long hair and a sympathetic smile. "He's so shy."

Melinda smiled, laying her head on Don's. "Yes, he is," she told the young woman, "he always hides when he's around new people or in a new place."

"He's just too sweet," Beth sighed, a young brunette with short hair. "You can see he's special," she said rudely.

Melinda did not take her words at their obvious meaning. She simply thought the woman thought the same as she did- that her little boy was special- unique. All morning, others had let her know the same way, not with words, but with the looks they gave her son.

When she had first sat down on the bench, Melinda had been keeping her eyes on her son. It had not taken her long to realize others were doing the same. In her blissful ignorance, she enjoyed the stares her little boy was receiving. Yes, she told them proudly in her mind, that's my son you see standing over there. She had straightened on the bench, a gleam in her eyes as she watched people walk by, stop and stare, and then look at her, envy clearly in their eyes that they didn't have such a perfect little boy.

When Catherine and Beth sat beside her, Melinda knew it was because they wanted to show off their own babies; but she was sure they would be disheartened when they realized theirs could not compare to the beautiful one she had playing ball in the middle of the park. Melinda had cooed at the women's babies, speaking sweetly of her own. Then Donny had appeared and by the exclamations of the women, Melinda was certain they were aware of their defeat in showing off their little ones- no other child could compare to her little baby boy.

"Go home Mommy," Don mumbled into her neck.

Melinda lifted his hat and kissed him on the temple. "Don't be silly, baby. We've only been here a couple hours."

Don was sure he could hear more laughter from behind him. He pressed against Melinda, almost causing her to fall against the women on her other side. She looked at them, giving a nervous smile when they commented how endearing her son's bashfulness was.

"I know," Melinda said, pulling off Don's hat and running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm his fear, "sometimes, though, I'm not sure what to do with him when he's like this."

"Food is always good," Catherine laughed, "I don't know any kid that isn't happy when a piece of candy is put in front of them." Looking at the time, she added, "Speaking of which, it's time for my little one to eat." She and Beth opened their baby bags and pulled out a bottle each, positioning their babies to eat.

Melinda looked at the women. It was close to lunch for her baby, too, and she knew it did tend to calm her son down when she fed him. Melinda had planned to feed him while they were at the park, but hadn't thought about where it would be appropriate to do so. Seeing the women besides her feeding their babies simply where they sat, she decided she would probably not find a more suitable place herself.

Melinda pulled her arm from around her son and faced forward, leaning over to bring her own diaper bag out from under the bench, complete with ducks embroidered into its canvas side. She was aware that Catherine and Beth were staring at her when she opened the bag and grabbed two bottles for her son. While pushing the air out of them, she explained to the women, "He can't chew solid food or hold utensils, so this is the only way he can eat- unless I hooked him to a machine. She added with sadness in her voice, "I would rather go through the trouble of bottle-feeding him than do something like that."

Both women nodded sympathetically, reassuring Melinda she was doing the right thing and that she could feed her son alongside them- they understood and wouldn't be ashamed.

None of the three women took into consideration Don's shame.

Don was still hiding his face, his head almost completely behind the back of Melinda's shoulders.

"Come on, baby. Time for lunch," his mommy whispered at his head.

Don trembled. He lifted his face enough so he could put his lips near his mommy's ear. "No, Mommy," he begged her, "not here." He hadn't been aware of the people staring at him all morning, but he did remember the laughter of the boy. It had just started fading from his ears when his mommy told him he had to eat, and Don didn't know how he knew, but he was positive he would hear the laughter again- even louder than before- if he drank his bottles in front of all the strangers in the park.

"Now, don't be difficult baby," Melinda told him firmly. She maneuvered her body so her left arm slipped behind Don's back and she could pull him forward, his head coming from his hiding place beside her neck. Quickly, she slipped a nipple against his lips and pushed. When he did not open his mouth and tried to move away, she managed to grip Buddy, who continued to hang from his shorts, and give the rabbit a quick tug, letting Don know what would happen if he didn't comply.

Don opened his mouth and began to suck on his bottle, keeping his eyes closed, drinking as fast as he could. He could hear the women sitting with Mommy commenting on what a good appetite he had, making him turn his face and try to hide again.

"Stop fidgeting, baby," Melinda warned, "or you'll make a mess." He stopped moving, not wanting milk stains on his shirt for the rest of the day, because he was sure anyone who looked at them would know what he had done in front of everybody at the park.

And they would laugh at him, just like that boy.

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The fourth thing they did was give up.

Friday night, Alan sat in his recliner in the solarium. He hadn't shaved or showered that day, nor had he eaten. At sometime during the day, he was conscious he had gone to the bathroom. But even that brief sojourn from his depression was soon fading from his memory. A hole had opened up in the ground and he was slowly sinking into it. It was a slide he did not try to counteract. He could have gripped the edges of his mind, tried to hold on to his surroundings.

Alan did neither of these things.

It was easier to slip down the depressive ramp that had been laid before him when the court gave away his son.

So much easier not to fight, to give in to the darkness that was rising before him, a black cloud that enveloped him and was now sealing over the last of his thoughts, so that he was in an empty, lightless hole-

-no beginning, no end.

Just unfeeling nothingness.

Charlie sat on the floor of the garage, crying. He held a chalkboard he'd taken down from its hooks in the ceiling, propping it in front of him and holding its edge with his left hand, sitting cross-legged while he was running fingers up and down its length, marking lines through the white writing up and down the length of its dark, flat surface.

He couldn't solve it.

N v. NP was beyond him.

And he didn't care anymore.

God would never give him his brother back.

And he didn't care anymore.

Don had chosen Thompson after all; let him be with her. What did he care? He was only his brother. He had spent so much time trying to catch Don, why should he spend the rest of his life running after him when it was so obvious he did not want to be caught?

Charlie wiped some chalk from the board, his thumb, damp from his tears, smearing through the numbers.

Stupid judge, he thought childishly, stupid court, stupid laws, and stupid bitch-

but most of all, stupid brother.

Charlie didn't want Don anymore.

After all, Don didn't want him.

Sniffling a flow of tears into his mouth and nose, Charlie cried.

I don't care what happens anymore, Don.

I don't care.

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Megan had followed them to the park.

She sat in her car, sunk down low, watching them with her binoculars jutting up just at the bottom of her car window. Luckily, the park had a lot of trees surrounding it. By positioning her car in a far corner, she would not be easily noticed, but she had a clear view straight to Thompson and Don.

Megan was mortified at the way Thompson had dressed Don.

On a three-year old toddler, the outfit would have been adorable.

On a thirty-five year old man, it was just ridiculous.

Megan wondered what the insane woman thought everyone else would think when they saw how she had dressed her grown son. But to her dismay, the woman seemed ignorant of the stares and widened eyes that took in the spectacle that she had made Don into.

What was worse, Don was unaware himself.

That was, until Megan saw a boy stop near Don, who was now playing by himself, and laugh.

She watched as Don scurried to Thompson and hid in embarrassment. Megan gritted her teeth, ripping another nail as she could plainly see Thompson was still clueless as to the way people were reacting to the way Don was dressed.

Then she saw Thompson pull out two baby bottles, clearly intent on feeding them to Don. And Thompson's little controlling move of shaking Buddy to make Don drink them, clearly a threat, did not escape Megan's perceptive eyes.

Dammit! Megan thought. Why the hell didn't I bring a camera? Anyone but the two idiots sitting next to Thompson had to be able to see Don's discomfiture and shame at being bottle-fed in public, emotions Megan was sure a good camera would capture.

Megan continued to watch, deciding she would try to reach Charlie and Alan the first chance she had. She wanted to let them know that Don was physically fine, but that they needed to come up with a plan to get him away from Thompson. Maybe take turns snapping pictures of them together in public.

Surely a judge would remove him from her care if they were able to present pictures of that shameful mistreatment of hers.

As Megan continued to watch Thompson's interactions with Don, she found herself groaning.

How much humiliation could one person take?

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After feeding Don, Melinda saw how Catherine and Beth pressed their babies' stomachs to release their gas. She knew about these things, but was still unsure what would be appropriate in public; so she took her cue from the women next to her and decided to follow their lead. Looking at Don, whose head was hidden behind her neck again, Melinda briefly thought about the physiology of the human body, knowing the right spot to press; she laid her right hand into position against Don's body and pressed firmly several times, pleased when she heard slight escapes of gas come from his mouth, ignoring the way he tried to hide his face further down her back and impossibly squeeze his torso behind her own.

Melinda looked back at the two women, watching as they checked their babies for dampness. She faced Don again.

Don tried whining to go home again, but Mommy had her hand on his stomach and his words were suddenly cut off when he burped, making him ashamed so much that he buried his face further from his surroundings. Confusion had free reign in his mind- he didn't think anything was really wrong with what he was doing. He might not like drinking bottles and wearing clothes that only babies did, but he was trying to obey his mommy and be a good little boy- what could be wrong with that? His emotions were telling him otherwise- that it was wrong because he wasn't a baby; Charlie had promised him that.

Don was starting to favor his emotions, the scale tipping towards their side when he felt Mommy's hand slip up into the right leg of his shorts and over, probing the front of his special briefs, Don aware that they were sitting only inches from two strange women and out in public, where everyone could see. He wanted to hide completely behind Mommy, because he believed all the people in the park now had to know he wore special briefs.

The imaginary laugh of the boy sounded in Don's ears again.

Melinda looked around for a bathroom. Her baby hadn't had another accident, but he had been sweating and his briefs were damp; she was concerned the dampness rubbing against her son's private area could cause him to get a painful rash.

This she wanted to avoid.

When she located the bathrooms set on either side of a small pavilion, she excused herself and stood up with her diaper bag. She put Don's hat back on his head and tugged his arm. He immediately got up, staring at the ground, thinking they were headed home.

Melinda approached the men's washroom with Don in tow. She yelled inside and when she received no response, she entered on her own, a look of disgust on her face when she saw how dirty it was. Back outside, she pulled Don to the women's bathroom and gave another call. No response and she dragged Don in behind her. Once inside, Don lifted his eyes enough so he could look around, aware they had not headed back to the car. A woman appeared from a stall, saying "Oh!" when she saw Don. He heard his mommy whisper something, and then the woman nodded at Don, washed her hands and left.

Don shook his head and tried to leave.

"Not this one," he said. This was not where Charlie had taken care of him when he took him to the park.

He stood still when he heard Mommy harshly say, "Not this one, what?'

Don licked his lips and avoided her eyes, whimpering, "Mommy."

"Now, baby, don't give me a hard time. I've seen all the mommies come in here today to change their babies." She pulled off his cap and forced his chin up. "Open your eyes and look." When Don obeyed her, she showed him the changing station. "See, if I wasn't supposed to take care of you in here, why would they place this here?"

Don couldn't argue with her. He didn't know why Charlie had changed him in the bathroom for men when it seemed he should have been changing him in the women's, which did have a place for his mommy to place all of his things; it would have made it easier for Charlie to take care of him, but his brother had still done a good job despite the lack of it.

Melinda pried open her bag and set out Don's personal things, taking Buddy from Don and sticking him next to them. She directed him to a stall, pulled down his shorts and two sets of briefs, then waited until he was finished before leading him to the changing station, where she took off his special briefs, threw them away, and opened some ointment.

During those times over the past three months that Don had been without clothing, he had not been aware of his own nakedness for almost the entire time.

But his brother's insistent on giving him dignity had changed that awareness, though neither Charlie nor Don had known it.

Charlie had been refusing to let but a few people see Don naked, out of respect and love for his brother. Don had not really paid attention to that fact. He had been doing what Charlie told him to do and if Charlie had decided to undress him in front of city hall, Don would not have said a word.

But Don's brother had not chosen to do that.

Instead, he had quietly told Larry he should leave the room when Don needed to be undressed in the locker room at the institute. And from the time he'd had his first accident, all except twice, Charlie had been the one to care for Don's personal needs, implying to Don that he had even kept them hidden from even their father. The previous Saturday, Charlie had made sure to keep others from the area in which he was caring for Don, again directing Larry to give them privacy.

All these things Don's mind had registered and filed away, though it did not alert his consciousness to them.

Until now, when his mommy stood in front of him, starting to rub ointment on his most personal area, and Catherine and Beth walked in.

They stared at Don, and he was suddenly self-conscious, aware that he should not be naked in front of strangers, especially not two women, his face blushing. They stared at him briefly, and then shrugged their shoulders, lugging their strollers into the bathroom.

"No problem," they told Melinda, "we understand he's special. Do what you need to do- we can wait till you're done to use the changing station."

Melinda smiled at the young women. They were so nice and understanding. Turning back to her son, she squeezed out more diaper rash medicine and began to smooth it in.

"Excuse, me," Catherine said behind her. Melinda straightened up from her task. "I don't mean to tell you what to do," Catherine continued, stepping forward in front of Don. "But really, it goes in much better if you use a circular motion. If you don't mind?"

Melinda handed the young woman the cream, feeling satisfied that she and her baby had been so readily accepted by their fellow mommies, that they had been able to discuss and compare notes about their children, just like she had always imagined it would be.

Catherine squeezed out some cream and used her fingertips to work it into Don's skin and nether regions, explaining, "See, it goes in real good like this- then you don't have to worry about excess leaking out the sides of his diaper."

Don wanted to hide, doing the closest thing he could by putting his hands over his face.

"Ah, he's shy," Beth said from across the room. "I bet he doesn't want us looking at him."

Catherine glanced up at Don and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry- I have a little boy, too. I put this stuff on him all the time."

Don didn't hear what she was saying.

It was impossible to hear a thing over the laughter he heard sounding in his ears once again.