Alan walks into his home, burdened with two bags of groceries. It is uncharacteristically silent, especially since Charlie was home. The nonexistent squeak of chalk on a chalkboard comforts Alan, though; at least his son wasn't working on the unsolvable problem he had attempted to solve when he had first learned about the bank robbery and Don's injury.

"Charlie, you in here?" Alan calls, without hearing a single sound for several moments. His pace quickens as he makes his way to the kitchen.

He sees Charlie, hand clutching an empty cup, face pressed firmly against the table.

"Charlie!" Alan says, nearly dropping the grocery bags on the table. Charlie abruptly his head, clearly startled.

"D-dad," he stutters, rubbing his face with both hands. "I didn't know you were home."

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Alan asks, sitting down next to his son. Suddenly a horrible thought comes to his mind. His stomach twists with fear. "You didn't get a phone call, did you?"

Charlie shakes his head, and relief pours into Alan. He leans back, relieved that no one has called about Don.

"Thank God. But, honestly, Charlie, what's going on?"

"We're going to get that call," Charlie mutters, his words barely perceptible.

"Don't say that," Alan reprimands. "Don's perfectly fine. He's going to be home tonight. How could you say that?"

"The odds are against that possibility, Dad," Charlie says, his dark eyes filled with certainty.

"Oh, Charlie," Alan puts an arm around his youngest son. "Charlie, I want you to ignore the math for a second."

"How can I? I tried to all day. I tried so hard, but I couldn't help it. Do you really think I want to know the likelihood of my brother returning alive?"

"Charlie, stop thinking about the numbers and think about your brother. He's tough. He's been in the FBI more than half his life. And he's been in hundreds of situations far worse than this one. He can handle himself, Charlie."

"I factored in his experience, Dad, and the odds are still against him."

"Did you factor love in, Charlie?" Alan asks, catching Charlie off guard.

"Love?"

"Don loves you, Charlie! You think he would leave you? Don't you think that knowing you are waiting for him to come home makes him work a little harder? Don't you think that he's trying to stay alive so he can see you again?"

"I never thought about that," Charlie says, leaning back.

"Well, think about it, Charlie." Alan stands, his arm still around his son. "I'm going to put the groceries away, alright? Don't worry about him, Charlie. He's not going let anything stop him from coming home tonight."

Charlie nods, in deep thought. He has never used emotion in an equation before. How could he? There is no numerical value for emotion, or love. And even if he attempts to assign a value, who can say if he is correct?

There is no way he can put love into a mathematic equation. It is impossible.

"How are the odds now?" Alan asks, coming in with a few bags.

"I don't know," Charlie admits. Though he can say that even if the odds are not in Don's favor, they are much better than he had previously calculated.

"Well, why don't you help me put the groceries away so I can dinner started?" Alan watches as his son complies, his own anxiety rising. Charlie's words frightened him, forced him to consider possibilities he did not wish to.

He glances at the phone for a moment before heading back to his car. He realizes that he can only hope that his youngest son is wrong.

Charlie stares at the wall clock for a moment. It is nearly ten. And Don is still not home. He returns to his nervous pacing.

Alan watches his son pace back and forth while he unconsciously stirs his chili. Don always came home late. It is nothing unusual. Only Charlie is still afraid for his eldest brother.

"Maybe I should try his cell," Alan suggests. Charlie stops in his pacing.

"No, no," Charlie answers. "He's fine. Besides, I don't want him to know how much of an idiot I've been today."

"You haven't been an idiot, Charlie," Alan says gently.

"Nevertheless, I don't want to bother him," Charlie says, and begins to pace again.

The youngest Eppes closes his eyes for a moment, his anxiety eating away at him. He wants to call his brother so badly, to see if he's all right.

His anxiety is rising; he feels his chest begin to heave. He tries to regain control, but he cannot. He has to know if Don's alive, he has to!

Just as he approaches the phone, he hears the front door open. He freezes mid step, his heart pounding. Could it be?

Don shuts his car door, looking at the front of his father's house. He smiles, thinking of what lay in wait for him. As he hoped, that question did not have to be answered today.

"Hey, guys," he says as he walks into the house. Alan is sitting at the table. He smiles at his father, relieved to see he is calm as usual. Probably to him, this has just been another ordinary day for Don.

He then gazes at Charlie, whose entire body seems to sigh with relief at the sight of his big brother.

Charlie watches his brother enter the room, warmth rushing through his body. After a day of worrying, his big brother is fine.

The three sit down at the table, Alan watching his sons for a moment. Don smiles at Charlie, his question unanswered. Charlie stares at his brother, all numbers falling away against the sweet reality of Don's presence.

Whatever the odds are, Don has surely beaten them. And suddenly, Charlie realizes that Don has beaten them every day of his life, and will continue beating them due to that invaluable problem that Charlie will never solve: love.

FINIS

Author's Note: Thank you so much, everyone, for your wonderful reviews. You have all inspired me to continue writing for Numb3rs. Thank you again.