A/N: So, this is by far the shortest chapter, but don't worry, because I've got another coming. I hope everyone likes this one. Clearly the story's wrapping up, so it shouldn't be too long now!

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Numb3rs.


Now I'm down on my luck and I'm black and blue
Gonna give you another chance
I'm all alone and I'm expecting you
To lead me off in a cheerful dance

-"Workingman's Blues #2," Bob Dylan

Chapter 11-Rescue

Don regained awareness to the sound of a gunshot. He experienced a moment of panic—the shot… But no, he was very clearly alive. The pain attested to that. But what about the others?

Don's eyes snapped open, searching for his team. There they were, staring towards the door, frozen in place, listening. Hett was nowhere in sight. Don listened too, hearing nothing.

Then, after what seemed like ages, there was the sound of a key in a lock. The door swung open.

"Am I late?" Ian Edgerton stood in the doorway, a rifle slung over his shoulder. At first Don thought that maybe he still had more of those drugs in his system than he'd initially suspected. But then he decided that there was no way his subconscious would ever have come up with this.

"Edgerton!" Colby exclaimed, sounding just as shocked as Don felt. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been tracking Hett across the country," said Ian, getting directly to the point as always. "Wanted for a string of murders. Took a little while to make the connection to your case—Hett's a new name. After I figured it out, I simply had to look for any property he might have here in L.A. under his real name. This was the only place he could have been keeping you guys." Don mentally nodded to himself—the thought of moving was too painful. They hadn't run Hett through facial recognition because they'd already had a positive I.D. Therefore they'd had no idea that he'd had anything besides his house, let alone another identity.

"And when I arrived," continued Ian, "the cavalry was outside, biting their fingernails. Some wimps you got out there. Afraid to come in. Everyone okay?" A faint note of concern had entered his voice as he made his way over to the team.

"Don needs help." Robin sounded desperate. Don vaguely wondered if Ian and Robin had ever met.

"Woah, Eppes, you don't look so good," Edgerton said, noticing him for the first time. The concern had sharpened.

"Good timing, Ian, 'cause I don't feel so good either," said Don, his voice tight with pain. It hurt to talk, although Don wasn't sure why. He spit out some blood.

"I think we might all appreciate being let out of our cuffs right about now," David announced. "Tell me you've started carrying standard FBI gear, like keys?"

"He hasn't," came a voice from the doorway. "That's why I'm here." Liz Warner walked towards them. She looked briefly at Don, and Don saw the same horror in her eyes that he had been seeing in the rest of his team's. "Don?" Her voice came out unsteady.

"Been better," Don answered the unspoken question in her voice. "Get the others first."

Liz made her way over to the others and pulled out her keys to the standard handcuffs. She began by unlocking Robin and made her way down the line. Robin lurched to her feet immediately, swaying slightly. Don wanted to tell her to be careful, to remind her that she probably had a concussion, but his mind hadn't quite caught up to what was happening around him and he found himself unable to do anything but watch. Finally, Liz turned to him.

When she released his cuffs, Don's knee hit the floor and he grunted in surprise and pain. The other leg hit then, and he felt the shattered bones in his ankle grate against themselves. His arm swung down from where the cuff had been holding it, and the bullet hole in his shoulder seared with pain. Don tipped over, landing badly on his broken arm. He cried out, the world spinning. He realized vaguely that he'd knocked his head on the floor as well.


Robin watched Don fall. Every time part of him moved his pain seemed to increase. She wondered if maybe leaving him hanging there might have been the nicer thing to do. Not that she could have seen him chained, helpless, to the wall for one more moment. She rushed towards him, stumbling. Liz stepped back to let her through, clearly not knowing what else to do. Robin hovered over Don, not wanting to touch him.

He looked bad, she thought. He looked awful. She wondered for a brief moment if he would make it, even now, but she banished the thought from her mind. Instead, she turned to Ian, but found him already on his phone, calling in paramedics. She changed directions, looking back at Liz.

"Hett?" she asked, her voice slightly unsteady. "He's dead?"

"Yes," Liz told her.

Robin nodded. "Good." Her face was expressionless, and her voice had grown hard.


The next thing Don knew, he was being loaded onto a stretcher. He groaned, opening his eyes, looking for Robin. She stood beside him. He whispered her name. When she leaned in closer to catch his words, he simply kissed her on the forehead. The cut there had been bandaged, he noticed. She closed her eyes at the touch of his mouth, sighing slightly. He smiled, his lips still on her skin. Then he slipped back into unconsciousness.