Show: NUMB3RS

Genre: Action/Adventure/Suspense/Angst

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

Pairing: Don/Terry

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: Well, this is it – the final chapter of this story, and you have no idea how long it took me to get this one the way I wanted it to sound. I had the idea for the ending since I started, but had no idea how to write it. Plus, yesterday was my last day of high school ever, and I bawled my eyes out virtually the entire time (I've known kids there since we were three). It was really not a good day for me to be writing, so here I am today. Hope that you like it.

Chapter Seventeen:

Terry rolled over gingerly and stared at the alarm clock on the nightstand – 11:09. After Don had dropped her off, she had realized how exhausted she was and decided it would be best to go straight to bed. Unfortunately, sleep had so far eluded her, and she had spent the last two hours restlessly tossing and turning, the bandages and her nightgown making her hot and uncomfortable. Sighing impatiently, she finally sat up stiffly and switched on the light, blinking and squinting against the brightness. Carefully climbing off the bed, she padded to the bathroom and turned on the shower – the hot water might do her some good.

She slowly peeled off her nightgown, wincing when the fabric tugged at the bandages around her arm. Doctor Bailey had given her several plastic bags to protect her cast and bandaged arms and ribs from water, and she dutifully wound the plastic sheeting around her wounds and secured it with rubber bands. Stepping into the shower, she closed her eyes and allowed the soothing water to massage her tired muscles. Suddenly she looked down and immediately shut her eyes again; her hips and legs were a rainbow of bruises, and she could see the white bandages around her ribs and abdomen beneath the plastic sheeting. She blinked back tears of anger and shame as she self-consciously touched the deep cut on her cheek and the scabbed gash on her neck. After only a few more minutes, she clumsily shut off the water with her bagged and cast arm and wrapped a towel around herself as she left the bathroom.

Terry made her way to the dresser and began to rummage through the drawers for something more comfortable to wear to bed. She paused in her search when she found a large, faded baseball T-shirt in the back of one of the drawers, and she slowly pulled it from the rest of the folded clothes. Terry felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth – she'd completely forgotten about this shirt. Don had lent it to her back when they were in the Academy. They'd gone to a local park together for a concert during spring break, which was interrupted by a sudden and unexpected rainstorm. By the time they'd gotten back to his place, they were completely soaked, and Don insisted on lending her a dry shirt to wear before he took her home. She supposed that she'd forgotten to ever give it back to him; the crumpled material still smelled faintly of his aftershave, and with a smile, Terry pulled the shirt over her head, smoothing it down until it reached almost to her knees. She put on some cotton pajama shorts as well and carefully unwrapped the plastic from around her arms and midsection.

Glancing over her shoulder toward her unmade bed, she realized that it had never looked less inviting. Her apartment, dark and lonely, was quiet and had an almost predatory feel to it that unsettled her immensely. She suddenly realized that the last thing she wanted to do was shut off the light again – that would leave her alone with her thoughts and feelings, an idea that was far from appealing. Then, as though her legs suddenly had a mind of their own, she began to walk toward the kitchen phone to call a cab. She knew that she had to get out, and it didn't even matter where.

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Don lounged on the couch, the blue light from the quietly flickering television casting an eerie glow in the darkened apartment. He had been aimlessly flipping channels for the past forty-five minutes and had finally landed on a rerun of Jurassic Park that was playing on Sci-fi. It barely registered that the tyrannosaurus had just attacked and eaten the lawyer since he was staring at the television with a glazed and barely focused expression.

When he had come home from dropping Terry off, he had changed out of his suit and tie into a T-shirt and boxers, hoping to get some well-deserved sleep after several agonizingly long days. Of course, his thoughts were still with his partner, and he found it impossible to erase the image of her from his mind. He finally gave up on sleep and wound up on the couch, wasting time by channel surfing, and still thinking about Terry and her condition. He understood what Doctor Bailey had said about her physical recovery, and after seeing her bandaged and bruised he knew that she would be out of the field for several months. Instead, Don found himself involuntarily returning to the car ride to her apartment when Terry was silent, pensive, and withdrawn, completely unlike her normally confident and friendly self. Seeing her curled into the corner of her seat, staring out the window with a dazed, blank expression caused his chest and throat to tighten powerfully with emotion. If only she would talk to him and tell him what happened, he might be able to –

A quiet and uncertain knocking was heard at the door.

Puzzled, Don switched on the light and moved to the door, undid the locks in a few quick motions, and opened it. Terry was standing in the hallway, clad in pajamas and half-turned as though she was planning on bolting. She took in his casual attire with wide, uncertain eyes and rubbed anxiously at the bandages on her right arm.

"Terry? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" he asked concernedly.

"Yeah…um, I'm sorry I bothered you, Don. It was just…never mind. It's late, and I'm just going to go home. I'm really sorry," she said as she took several small, hesitant steps backwards. He immediately reached out to catch her arm to stop her from running off, and he pulled her towards him gently.

"It's okay. Come on inside for a while." Seeing her anxious glance toward the staircase, he quickly said, "I won't make you stay, but at least come in and relax for a few minutes. You really shouldn't be wearing yourself out too quickly."

As he spoke, Don gently guided her into the apartment, softly closing the door behind him. He watched her as they walked over to the couch and couldn't help but notice the way her eyes darted nervously around the room and the uncertain, shuffling steps she took in her bedroom slippers. Putting Jurassic Park on mute, he let her sit at one end of the sofa and began to quickly tidy up some newspapers and magazines at the other. "How'd you get here, Terry? Your car wasn't fixed yet."

"I called a cab. I didn't even know where I was going until we started driving." Don took in the way she sat at the end of the couch, hands folded tightly in her lap and slippered feet barely touching the ground. The baggy sleep shirt she was wearing made her look small and child-like, and her thin shoulders rose and fell with the quick, rabbity breaths she took. Suddenly she glanced up at him, her normally large eyes even more enormous than usual, and Don averted his scrutinizing gaze so she wouldn't be any more uncomfortable than she already was.

"Terry, if you want to talk or anything…"

She gave a little shake of her head. "No, Don, it's really okay. You don't even need to say anything. You being here is enough. I just…I didn't want to be alone."

Don nodded understandingly. "Okay. I'm going to make some tea. Would you like me to turn on the TV and get you a cup?"

At her grateful smile he un-muted the television, and the quiet noises of Jurassic Park filled the living room. Throwing a last look at Terry over his shoulder, he went to the kitchen to boil water and find some clean mugs. He luckily had a few herbal tea bags left, and he allowed the tea to steep with the hope that it would help her relax and get some much-needed sleep. Carefully carrying the two steaming mugs along with a box of Teddy Grahams he dug out of the pantry into the living room, he paused momentarily in the doorway. Terry, still seated at the end of the couch, now had her knees drawn up to her chest, her cast arm wrapped tightly around her legs, and her chin resting on her knees. Her hair hung loosely around her face and brushed lightly against the purplish gash on her cheek, and he heard her sigh audibly, bottom lip trembling as she did so.

Don walked over to the couch and smiled as he handed her one of the mugs, which she wrapped her hands around and balanced carefully on her knees. He sat down beside her and opened the Teddy Grahams, earning an inquisitive glance from Terry as he did so. "Charlie likes them, so I keep them around for him. I wouldn't get them on my own," he lied ineffectively. "He claims they're brain food or something."

He could tell by the quirked smile she gave him that she didn't buy it for a minute. "I'm sure. Charlie seems just the type to find the answers to math equations in a box of cinnamon Teddy Grahams."

He grinned, but to his disappointment Terry seemed to uncharacteristically lose interest and resumed staring at the television set. Though he didn't want to push her into conversation, he was deeply concerned about her aloof and reserved behavior. The next several minutes passed in silence, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she slowly sipped her tea.

Don finally couldn't stand it anymore, and he turned to fully face her. "Terry, I wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened."

She looked up toward him in surprise. "Why are you apologizing?"

All of the guilt that Don had felt during the entire situation finally bubbled over, and he began in a rush, "It was my fault that you got involved like that. You were a means to an end for him, and if you hadn't been a convenient target he would have left you alone. I shouldn't have let you walk home alone. I'm supposed to look out for you, make sure that you're safe…and I didn't do that, and it was my fault that they found you."

"Don, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known that –"

"It doesn't matter. I have a responsibility to you, and I let you down…and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't made it."

She edged closer to him on the couch and gently took one of his hands in hers, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "But I did make it, and you were the one who found me. Don't blame yourself." He searched her eyes, but she broke off contact and looked away, pulling her hand back as she did so.

Don reached out a hand and tentatively touched her shoulder, but he yanked it away when he saw her cringe. His eyes dawned with understanding as he softly asked, "What did he do to you? How did he hurt you?"

At first Terry didn't respond, but then she looked up at him, and he was horrified to see tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He could hear her breathing with hitching, uneven breaths, and she wrung her hands uncomfortably in her lap. "I hate him," she whispered, "I hate him for what he did to me. I wanted to stop him, but I couldn't…I wasn't strong enough to stop him."

As quiet tears began to course down her cheeks, Don gently put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into a comforting embrace. He felt one of her hands clench a handful of his shirt material as she buried her face into his chest. Don stroked her hair with his other hand, planting several soothing kisses on her forehead as he did so. He could feel Terry shaking with sobs that were eerily silent, and he carefully rocked her, making sure not to press too closely to her bandaged ribs. Considering what she had been through, Don thought he should hardly have been surprised at her emotional state, but this was Terry. He had always seen her as strong, resilient, an emotional rock, and seeing her this distraught was almost more than he could bear.

After several minutes he could feel the sobs racking her shoulders subside as she rested in his arms. She slowly brought herself up, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and brushing at his shirt which was now soaked in her tears.

"Oh Don, I got your shirt all wet," she said softly, her eyes lowered.

"Don't worry about it," Don said. He cupped her face gently in his hands and tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. Giving her a smile, he used his thumbs to wipe away the last tears that lingered on her cheeks. "Do you feel a little better?"

"Yeah. Thank you." As he continued to watch her, she smiled nervously. "You're staring."

"Sorry," he said, tearing his eyes from her face. Suddenly he grinned and looked back at her. "I guess I couldn't help but notice whose shirt you're wearing."

She glanced down, and her smile brightened slightly. "I just found it tonight. I guess I forgot I even still had it. Don't worry though – I'll actually return it this time."

"That's okay. I think it looks much better on you anyway." Don noticed a pink flush appear on her cheeks, and she turned her attention back to the television wearing a faint smile.

"What are we watching?" she asked.

"Jurassic Park," he answered. At her questioning glance he explained, "There wasn't very much on, and call me a male, I happen to like dinosaurs. But I suppose that as my guest I can give you official and uncontested control over the remote."

Giving him an affectionate smile, Terry took the remote from his hand and began idly flipping channels, much as he had done not long ago. She eventually stopped on a channel that was playing a movie starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

"You found something?"

She nodded, and as he felt her soft hair press against his arm, he realized that he still had his arm around her shoulders. "You've Got Mail – it's one of my favorite movies, but –" she smiled up at him innocently, "it's a chick flick."

"I've already told you that you have 100 percent control tonight. I won't say a word," he assured her.

The next two hours were spent in pleasant quietude. Don was surprised and happy to find that Terry didn't pull away from him as they watched the movie but instead stayed curled contentedly next to him. He heard her laugh quietly at her favorite parts, and even he had to admit that some of the lines were humorous. By the time the movie began to wind down it was nearly 2:00 in the morning, and he was thoroughly exhausted. Don suddenly realized that Terry's head, which was resting on his chest, had lolled forward slightly and that she had one hand tucked underneath her cheek. He could hear her slow, steady breathing, and he gently tugged the remote from her other curled hand and turned off the television. Glancing down, he saw that she was fast asleep and looked perfectly contented.

Not wanting to wake her, Don carefully eased himself out from under her light weight and grabbed a pillow from the other end of the sofa to place under her head. She stirred only slightly as he stood and took a blanket from the nearby armchair. When he turned back to face her, his eyes were caught by her legs which were covered in a myriad of bruises. He felt a painful lump form in his throat when he saw the large, shadowy marks in different shades of yellow, purple, and blue darkening her smooth white skin. Don hurriedly unfolded the blanket and gently covered her, tucking the edges around her. Kneeling beside her, he brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. As he stood and walked toward his bedroom, he gave a final glance over his shoulder toward his sleeping partner and turned off the light.

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Terry awoke with a start and looked around the darkened room in momentary disorientation. Breathing heavily, the details of both the prior evening and her nightmare came flooding back to her. She remembered coming to Don's apartment for reasons that she couldn't explain; she must have fallen asleep at some point, and the nightmares that followed had resulted in a restless sleep. Carefully disentangling herself from the blanket on the couch, she stood on shaky legs and wrapped the blanket around herself again. Moving to the kitchen, she helped herself to a glass of water when she noticed her hands shaking nervously. The nightmares had deeply unnerved her, and she doubted whether she would be able to sleep again that night.

After placing her glass in the sink, she wandered from the kitchen and found herself in the doorway of Don's bedroom. For a reason that she couldn't explain, Terry tiptoed to the side of his bed and looked down at his sleeping form. She could hear his deep, steady breathing and could see how he slept on his side with one arm flung over his head. Carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, she gently touched his sleep-tousled hair with a smile.

Suddenly needing to be closer, Terry lifted the covers on the empty side of his bed and quietly slipped beneath the blankets. She pushed herself backwards until she could barely feel Don's chest against her back. 'I'll just stay for a few minutes,' she thought, 'Just until I calm down enough to fall asleep.' Closing her eyes with a heavy sigh, she felt Don stretch in his sleep, one arm falling and looping casually around her waist, and instinctively drawing her closer. She could feel his breathing on the back of her neck and his warm, muscular chest pressed against her back. Terry was immediately relaxed and sleepy. The safety and protection she felt in his arms caused her to involuntarily drift back to sleep within minutes.

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Don heard the sounds of cars and people on the street below his apartment, and he could tell without opening his eyes that early morning sunlight had begun to filter in through the window. Blinking against the light as he opened his eyes, he glanced down with the sudden realization that Terry was curled up next to him. One of his arms had managed to find its way around her waist, and her face was inches from his, the top of her head tucked up under his chin. Pulling away from her slightly so he could look into her face, he watched her sleep.

Her right hand rested on his chest, and her hair fell over the pillow in a tousled spray. A faint smile tugged at her mouth, and he could see her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones as she dreamed. Though the deep, purple gash was still glaringly evident on her cheek, Don somehow found it easier to ignore it when she was in such a calm and peaceful state and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

As he watched, she gave a contented sigh and snuggled closer until her head came to rest in the hollow beneath his collar bone. Feeling his own eyelids droop in tiredness, Don protectively tightened his arm-hold around her waist, content to drift off to sleep again. At that moment, the horrible events of the last few days fell away, and he finally allowed himself to believe that everything would work out for the best.

LA FIN!

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Author's Note 2: As always, reviews are accepted, loved, and cherished, and I'd be especially interested in hearing what you thought about the story as a whole (now that it's finally done!). Thank all of you soooo much for your constant support – this was my first fanfic for anything, and it was great knowing that you were all there. Your kind words made it worth the long hours. You made this a great experience, and I can't wait until the plot bunnies bite me again! Hope I can write for you again soon!