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.
Author's Note: This chapter's kind of a long one, so it took me a while to get it right. And no, this story is still not completely finished – I'm thinking probably one more chapter to go (some D/T hurt/comfort stuff is coming, I promise).
Chapter Sixteen:
Don anxiously paced the waiting room of the hospital's emergency wing, casting nervous and impatient glances toward the double doors that led to the treatment rooms. He had been waiting for nearly an hour and a half for news on Terry's condition but had received little information from the receptionists, who were growing steadily more exasperated at his endless questioning. Whenever he approached the front desk, the nurses all seemed to suddenly remember other appointments that they had to rush off to, all trying to avoid the worried interrogation of Agent Don Eppes.
Don thought that he'd restrained himself considerably – he'd only asked for an update eight times…well actually nine times, but the first time he was only checking over Terry's medical history, so he told himself it didn't count. Catching himself mid-glance at checking the time for the forty-seventh time that night, Don leaned against the wall with a sigh, keeping a fixed gaze on the double doors.
Until this point, he hadn't even had time to stop and consider how close they had truly come to losing Terry – fifteen seconds later, and she would likely have been killed. His stomach clenched involuntarily at the memory of seeing her lying on the floor, bruised and beaten, the man who had hurt her being led from the room emotionlessly. Though he instantly wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and convince both her and himself that everything would be all right, he couldn't help but admire her strength. The paramedics had offered her a stretcher to take her to the ambulance, but Terry refused, slowly and unsteadily walking out on her own, Don's hand hovering protectively near her elbow.
When he wordlessly climbed into the ambulance after her, she gave him a small smile, though one that Don noticed didn't quite reach her eyes. As the paramedics asked her repeated questions as to her condition, Terry brushed off their concerns, insisting that she was perfectly fine. Though Don sat silently beside her to allow the paramedics to do their job, he noticed the slight grimace that crossed her face when the ambulance bounced too harshly over potholes and the way her left hand gingerly supported her right arm, which was wrapped in bloody strips of her torn shirt. He was thankful that the ambulance staff insisted on a complete physical at the hospital despite her protestations. After escorting her into the emergency room, she had turned to him and placed a hand on his sleeve. "I can make it on my own now, Don. Thanks for coming this far," she said softly.
He nodded, understanding that she needed to do this part of the visit by herself. "I'll be waiting for you when you're finished. Just have someone come and get me when you're done."
She gave him a small nod, and he felt her lightly squeeze his arm. As one of the nurses walked her through the doors to the treatment area, he watched her go, a painful lump forming in his throat as he noticed her slow limping steps to the doorway. At that point, he folded himself into one of the plastic waiting room chairs with a clipboard and pen, filling in the gaps of Terry's recent medical history. This process took a horribly short amount of time, so he was left with nearly eighty minutes to pace and worry, broken only by a brief phone conversation with David who wanted to check up on the lack of information about Terry's condition.
Grinding his teeth impatiently, Don threw another anxious look toward the wall clock and found that time seemed to have come to a complete standstill inside the hospital. 'Ninety minutes…what could possibly be taking ninety minutes?' he thought worriedly.
The emergency room doors that led out to the parking lot opened with a slight whoosh, and Don did a double take after glancing over his shoulder in the entrance direction. Charlie, his cheeks slightly flushed and curly hair in even bigger disarray than usual, was standing in the doorway with a paper bag. He caught Don's eye and rushed over to him, not even bothering to acknowledge the nurse who had politely asked if he needed help.
"Charlie? How'd you know—"
"Dad told me," he explained breathlessly. "David called the house from the office, but I was down teaching a night class, so Dad took a message for me. As soon as I got back, he let me know that you guys found her and that she was being looked at by the doctors. Have you heard anything yet?"
"No, not yet," Don said, collapsing into a chair. "The doctors haven't said anything, and the receptionists are getting tired of seeing me." Charlie chuckled, though it was a laugh laced with tension and nervousness. "What's in the bag?" he asked.
"Oh…I borrowed Terry's house key and brought her a change of clothes. I though she might want to change into something clean for her trip home tonight," Charlie said, pulling a white blouse and slacks from the bag.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate it, Charlie," Don said, giving him a smile. Charlie's mind, however, didn't seem to be that devoted to small talk at the moment, and his eyes darted nervously in the way they always did before he broached a sensitive issue.
"How was she?" he asked suddenly, in a hesitant voice. "When you found her…was she okay?"
Though Don had a feeling that that question was coming, he found he wasn't quite sure how to answer. "Well, you know Terry. She insisted on walking out on her own – I think the paramedics were a little miffed that she wouldn't use their stretcher." Charlie gave a little smile that told Don he wasn't buying his light humor. Don sighed, slumping back in his seat. "To be honest, I don't really know. She kept saying she was fine – didn't want to be fussed over, I guess."
"She didn't look fine to you?" Charlie asked softly.
"He was about to kill her. She'd be dead if we came any later." Don suddenly glanced up at Charlie. "You know those cases we get with abuse or drug rings, where we find bodies in ditches with their faces bashed in and their clothes ripped apart? Bodies that you know were torn apart by complete sadists?" Charlie slowly nodded, eyes wide and dark. "That's almost what it felt like to me. Seeing her like that…it was harder than anything else I've had to do."
Don fell silent, hardly knowing what else to say. It was too difficult to put all of his emotions into words, and as Charlie gave him a comforting grip on the shoulder, he knew he didn't even have to try.
"You know what, I think I'm going to head out," Charlie said. "She's been through a tough time, and I'm sure the last thing she wants is a lot of attention."
"I know she'd be happy to see you, Charlie."
"It's okay. She's probably exhausted, and she's closest to you anyway. You should be with her – it'll give her time to talk. Will you tell her…" Charlie trailed off and suddenly dashed out of the waiting room, leaving Don completely confused. His brother returned only a few minutes later with a bouquet of daisies and baby's breath from the hospital gift shop and awkwardly handed them to Don with the paper bag. "Just tell her that I'm glad she's all right."
"I will. Say hi to Dad for me," Don said and felt the corners of his mouth twitch into an involuntary smile at his brother's affectionate gesture to his friend. Charlie waved goodbye and headed to the parking lot.
With the distraction of Charlie's visit gone, Don became acutely aware of the time again and looked down at his watch only to find that seven more minutes had gone by. He made his way over to the receptionists' desk again, where a single young intern gave him an apprehensive glance. He handed her the paper bag saying, "Could you please make sure these get to Terry Lake? She's being treated now, and she might want to change before leaving for the night."
She nodded and hurried off through the doors to the treatment rooms where she passed a middle-aged, balding doctor with a kindly looking face who was carrying a clipboard and exiting into the waiting area. He locked eyes with Don and gave him a grim half-smile, which was all the encouragement Don needed to quickly cross to the doctor.
The doctor put out his hand and introduced, "Doctor Richard Bailey."
"Don Eppes. You've been working with Agent Lake?"
"Yes, the nurses should be finishing up with her right about now."
Don sighed in relief. "That's good. How is she?" Don was too experienced at reading other peoples' faces to miss the way Doctor Bailey's eyes lowered, flitting nervously around the waiting room. His relief immediately vanished, and he felt all of his earlier apprehension and panic return.
"Maybe we should speak about this in a more private place, Agent Eppes," Doctor Bailey said hesitantly.
"She said she was fine! What happened to her?" Don asked, hearing his voice rise.
"My office is just down the hall. Why don't we speak about her condition there?" Bailey said, kindly but firmly.
Don allowed himself to be led through the glass double doors into the treatment wing, though questions and worries were now swirling in his mind. Doctor Bailey led him to a small, brightly lit office and closed the door behind them, sitting composedly behind his desk. Though there was another available chair, Don remained standing and paced the tiny office.
"What did Terry tell you about her experiences?" Bailey asked.
"Not very much – we didn't really have time to talk before coming here."
"Agent Lake's injuries are more…severe than she had us initially believe," Bailey began, obviously choosing his words delicately.
"But Terry told me that she was fine, she said she felt fine!" Don insisted.
"She may have been trying to put on a brave face in light of her situation. But after our physical examination of her, we believe her recovery period will be long and difficult." Bailey motioned to the other seat again, but Don stoically ignored him.
"What did he do to her?" he asked softly.
Doctor Bailey flipped open Terry's medical file and began to read. "She had a severe concussion, and the blow also gave her a nasty cut on the back of her head. The cut on her cheek went clear to the bone, but we've glued it shut, and it should heal without complication. Her left wrist had a hairline fracture, so we've given her a cast for a few weeks. She was also complaining of chest pains, so we took an x-ray of her chest cavity; four ribs were bruised and cracked while two were completely broken. She was actually pretty lucky there – one of them missed puncturing a lung by only two centimeters. There isn't much we can do for that except give bed rest and wrap the ribcage. She also said that she fell down the stairs right before you found her, which resulted in slight internal bleeding. She may have bruised her kidneys on the way down, so we told her not to be surprised if there are blood traces in her urine, though she should contact us if it continues longer than a week."
As the doctor rattled off the damage report, Don was shocked into silence; she had been beaten to within an inch of her life. At this point he wanted nothing more than to strangle the bastard who had done this – she was lucky to have escaped alive. Struggling to speak, he asked, "There was also a gunshot wound. How's her arm?"
"The bullet missed major arteries or veins, but she still lost a lot of blood. The tissue will repair itself, but it'll take time. We've given her several doses of antibiotics in case of infection, so we'll need to keep an eye on its healing," Bailey explained.
"But she'll be okay?"
"Yes, physically she'll recover given time and rest," he paused, as though choosing his words before speaking. "I'm more worried about her emotional state at this point. She's been through an extremely traumatic experience, and right now she hasn't said very much to me or the other physicians. She told me that you're her partner?" At Don's nod he continued, "She may not want to talk about what happened right now, but eventually she's going to have to come to grips with her experiences. Don't press her to face it immediately, but she will want to talk about it at some point. Just be there for her – listen when she feels like talking and support her any way you can."
Though Don understood what the doctor was telling him, he also knew Terry extremely well. She prided herself on her ability to bottle up and conceal her emotions, a trait that was critical in dealing with difficult cases. Don also knew that she had difficulty in getting rid of those emotions and though sloughing off emotional deadweight was important, it was hard for her to do. She could be extremely withdrawn if she wanted to – Don doubted if he'd ever know exactly what happened to her.
Bailey gauged Don's reaction to the information and found it to be calm and collected – the epitome of a seasoned FBI agent. "They're probably finishing up with her right about now, if you'd like to see her. She can go home tonight as well, if you wanted to give her a ride home."
Don nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Bailey. What room is she in?"
Shaking Don's outstretched hand, Bailey said, "Exam room 12. It'll be the fifth door on your right."
Quickly striding from the office, Don immediately started down the corridor, clenching Charlie's flowers tightly in one hand. At the door to room 12, he knocked lightly and entered. Terry was sitting on the treatment table speaking with the nurse as she buttoned the white blouse that Charlie had brought her. Her progress with the buttons was slow as one hand was encased in a blue cast and the other arm was tightly bandaged. Don couldn't help but glance at her exposed abdomen and saw bleach-white bandages wrapped around her lower ribcage. He quickly averted his eyes with a painful swallow.
Terry and the nurse finished their conversation, and the nurse moved over to him. "She's all yours. Make sure she gets plenty of bed rest and gets enough fluids and nutrients – we've had her on an IV here, but she's pretty dehydrated. We'll need to see her back here in three days unless there are any additional problems."
Don thanked her and watched her go, immediately turning his attention back to Terry who finished fastening a particularly difficult button at the top of her blouse. She looked up at him and gave him a smile then tried to clamber off of the treatment table. Don immediately rushed to her side to help as he put one hand on the small of her back and the other on her elbow.
"Thanks, Don," she said as she looked at him gratefully.
"That's what friends are for, right?" he joked gently. "Oh, yeah, before I forget, these are for you." He presented the flowers with a flourish. At her questioning glance, he explained, "They're from Charlie. He came down to see how you were doing and to bring you your change of clothes. He didn't want to overwhelm you, so he asked me to give you his best wishes. He's glad that you're back."
"That was sweet of him." Terry nestled the flowers into the crook of her arm. "Can we go now, Don? Please?"
When she glanced back up at him again, he could see in her eyes that all she wanted to do was leave the hospital and begin putting this horrible nightmare behind her. "Sure. My car's right outside waiting for us. Do you want me to carry anything for you or –"
"No, I'll be fine. Let's just go," she said, walking slowly toward the door of the exam room. He walked with her down the corridor, proceeding slowly but steadily out to the parking lot, where he helped her up into the passenger seat and took his spot behind the wheel. As they pulled away from the hospital, a light rain began to fall, spattering the windshield and car windows. Don stole several glances at his silent partner who was refusing to make any effort at conversation.
"Terry," he began awkwardly, "I know that you don't feel like talking, but if you do, you can always come to me. It doesn't matter when or where, because I'll listen. Nothing is more important to me than knowing that you're okay."
"I know," she said, her voice sounding distant and far away. He looked over at her again. Her fingers were curled around the daisy stems, and her head was resting against the window as she watched the raindrops streak past the glass. As the car passed beneath the streetlamps, the light played over her face, creating a dark shadow over the deep gash in her cheek.
"Terry, I know that you don't want to feel like I'm patronizing you, but you're more than welcome to stay with me for a while, at least until you start to heal up a little bit. Charlie and my dad have extra guest rooms at their house too, if you'd feel more comfortable that way –"
"I'll be fine Don, I promise." She tore her eyes away from the window to return his glance. "Right now, I just need to go home and be by myself for a little while. I don't mean to push you away, but I'll be all right." She gave him a smile that he could tell was far from completely genuine and turned back to the window after he nodded.
The rest of the car ride passed in relative silence as Terry wanted nothing more than to sit pensively in the passenger seat, and Don wanted nothing more than to respect her wish for quietude. Upon reaching her apartment, Don jumped from his seat and rushed to help her from the car, carrying the small bag of antibiotics with him. He let her lean into him as they slowly walked up the stairs to her building and up the elevator to her floor. At her door, she fumbled with the lock only momentarily and managed to open the door and switch on the kitchen light. Don put the antibiotics neatly on the counter and picked up the bouquet of flowers from Charlie that she had put on the table.
"Do you want these in water?" he asked.
"Sure, thanks." She carefully leaned against the wall and watched Don carefully trim the stems of the daisies, fetch a vase from the top of the refrigerator, fill it with water, and deposit the flowers in the vase, arranging them with a seriousness and concentration that was so endearing she couldn't help but smile.
Having finished with the flowers, he turned to face her with a sigh. "Are you sure you want to stay here tonight? There's nothing else I can do?"
"I'm sure, and you've done more than enough for me already," Terry said, straightening up and walking toward him. She brushed the fingers of her cast arm across his cheek then gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks for finding me."
"Thanks for hanging on," he returned, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Suddenly, without even thinking about what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, and then in an even more astonishing move, kissed her lightly on the lips. "Call me if you need anything."
She nodded and watched him leave, her head still reeling from the surprise and delight of such a beautiful and unexpected welcome home gift.
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I will finish this soon. Until then, what did you think?