Show: NUMB3RS

Genre: Action/Adventure/Suspense

Rated: T (some violence and language, but it'll be kept at a minimum)

Pairing: Don/Terry friendship

Summary: As Charlie works on his formula to find the perpetrators of a devastating robbery and murder spree, Terry disappears. When Don and the team are given an ultimatum, will they be able to find her in time and uncover the identities of the criminals before another attack?

Disclaimer: I swear I don't own NUMB3RS. I swear I don't make money by writing this. Please don't beat down my door and arrest me, nice-awesome-CBS-executive-people.

Chapter Two:

The day proved to be another long and difficult one. The team worked tirelessly until noon when Don insisted they all take a break to stay fresh. Agent Brooks left to make a phone call and didn't return until after lunch. David, Don, and Charlie gathered around a pizza and discussed the evening's baseball game while Terry curled up on the couch with the newspaper. The break went all too quickly, and the group soon found themselves furiously working away late into the night.

Don leaned back in his chair, wearily rubbing his eyes. It was 10:15, and he felt utterly exhausted. David had gone home earlier with a stack of files – his bedtime reading material for the night. Charlie had his fingertips pressed to his forehead and was perched pensively on a stool in front of the whiteboard. He looked as exhausted as Don felt; he'd make sure his brother got some sleep tonight.

He heard Terry laughing softly, and he glanced over at the corner where she and Agent Brooks had been working. Brooks was pulling on his coat, talking quietly with her. As Don watched, he shook his head and gave her a pat on the shoulder, waving goodbye to the Eppes brothers as he headed out the door.

Don watched Terry with a bemused expression. Feeling his gaze, she glanced up and caught his eye. "What's that look for?" she asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering what was so funny," he answered playfully.

"It was nothing," she replied. Seeing his expression, she insisted, "Really! He just offered to walk me home. I told him I'd be fine on my own."

"Well, I could give you a ride if you wanted one. Your place is right on the way home for Charlie and I," Don offered.

"I don't mind walking, it's just twenty blocks." Terry stood, gathering her things. "It's a nice night, and it'll give me time to think."

"Well, if you're sure…" he said, doubtfully.

She grinned at him gratefully. "I'm sure, but thanks anyway. I'm going to take copies of the Hardaway and Rutgers files home, see if I can find anything there."

"Sounds good. If I can't dissuade you from your cross-country trek, I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning," Don said.

Terry laughed, "Absolutely. I'll see you guys later."

Charlie waved goodbye in an absent manner, and Don stood, stretching and groaning as his joints creaked and popped painfully. He clapped Charlie on the shoulder, pulling him away from his notes and out the door of the now-deserted office.

Terry pushed open the doors of the FBI building and headed out into the cool night breeze. The streets were slowly emptying by this time of night, and most of the store-front windows were dark and barred. The evening was surprisingly clear and she could see several stars in the sky – a rare sight in Los Angeles.

She walked for several blocks, passing no one and enjoying the relative silence. Her mind swirled with thoughts of the case, and she gripped the copies of the case files even tighter. Charlie was getting close to finishing this one, maybe even in the next day or so. If only they could—

"Excuse me, miss?"

The voice startled her out of her reverie, and Terry turned swiftly on the balls of her feet. The man behind was tall, nearly six foot six, with a dark, chiseled face, barely illuminated by the shadowy quality of the street lamps. She had no idea how someone so enormous had managed to move so quietly.

"Could you tell me how to get to West Avenue?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," she said, slightly flustered, "It's two blocks back the way you came. Just make a left on 7th Street."

"Thanks." Terry turned to go but felt her stomach tighten as his hand closed on her upper arm, iron fingers easily clamping down and yanking her backwards.

She swung around, panic and fear suddenly blossoming in her mind. Dropping the case files, she brought around her left fist, but the man caught it in his other hand with ease. Futilely trying to fend him off, she was horrified to find he seemed to anticipate and block her every move. She attempted to hook a foot around his ankle and trip him up, but he rebutted with a swift kick in the shins. Thrown to the pavement, Terry felt her head slam painfully onto the cement. Black spots bloomed before her eyes, and her attacker pinned her to the ground, stuffing a handkerchief into her mouth.

Suddenly, Terry saw a van come careening around the corner, screeching to a halt next to the sidewalk. The car's side doors flew open, and three more men burst out. They hoisted her off the ground as she struggled against them. She managed to free her right arm, lunging toward an opening in the mass of bodies. Something cracked into the back of her neck with explosive force, and Terry crumpled to her knees. She was dimly aware of being lifted and thrown into the open van, slamming into the far wall as the world suddenly went black.

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