Acknowledgements:
Omi as always
Beta Kim who, despite never writing any fan fic before, contributed a
crucial passage in Chapter 1
Beta Kevlar for surviving an ellipses induced coma to beta this fic for me
Betas Mel and Dana (twin spitfires!) for their neverending support
A special thank you to Beta Cyn for working her magic on my opening
chapter as she did with Don at the Bridge
All the BTN8rs who participated in the Open Beta for this fic - Thank you!

Disclaimers:
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend" - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
I do not own the characters Charlie, Don, Alan, Larry or Terry nor do I
have any rights to anything related to the TV show Numb3rs. I plead fair
use and claim only my own writing and characters.

Chapter One:

Thursday Morning

"Final boarding for Delta Flight 448 for Burbank, California."

Don was running late for his flight but made it just in time. Everything about this trip was running late. The off-site visit hosted by the Office of Protective Research ran late, the OPR dinner meeting ran late, the last minute Office of Homeland Security briefing ran late into the night and now Don had almost missed his flight home as a result of his cab running late in traffic. His eight days in the nation's capital had been a whirlwind of leadership training and new technology seminars at Quantico, vendor visits to experience those new technologies first hand, endless briefings and back-to-back meetings. Don hadn't had a free hour since he'd arrived and was looking forward to catching up on his sleep when he returned.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Delta flight 448 from Washington D.C. Dulles Airport to Burbank Airport in Southern California. Your pilot today is Captain Jackson Weber and our flight time will be approximately 5 hours and 10 minutes. We hope you enjoy your flight and we thank you for flying Delta Air Lines!"

The flight attendant's voice was artificially cheery and annoyingly high-pitched. Don was grateful when she finally stopped talking. He closed his eyes and hoped he could get some rest once they were in the air.

After several hours of fitful sleep, Don got tired of being woken up repeatedly by noise from the other passengers and pulled out his laptop. Luckily, the plane was a newer one and offered in-flight wireless Internet access. With all his last minute phone calls, Don hadn't had a chance in the cab to check his voicemail, but he could at least catch up on his email. Being off-site all day yesterday he'd pretty much ignored his cell phone. Everyone at the L.A. office knew he wasn't available during this trip. His caller ID had shown that the only people who'd called his cell had been his father and Edwin Moses, the coach of the FBI baseball team that Don had recently joined. He figured both could wait until he got back.

Don booted up his laptop and connected to the network. He closed his eyes again for a few minutes while his email downloaded. Not only had this trip been draining, he'd had to work a lot of extra hours getting his team ready for him to be gone for over a week. Terry was a capable lieutenant and he was confident she could handle the team in his absence, but there wasn't time to get her up to speed on all the paperwork ahead of time and hand over his current cases to her. So he'd just done the paperwork himself, even though it meant weeks of late nights and a drastic reduction in his social life.

A quick glance at his work email told him things were running smoothly. He opened up a web browser to check his personal email account next. He was happy to see a reply from his old college baseball teammate, Alex Abuto, and opened that up immediately.

"Hey Eppes!

Man, it's good to hear from you! Been a long time. Congrats on joining the FBI team! You really are going to be a ringer for them!

Yeah, let's hook up at the batting cages. Great idea. I could use a little swing time now that I'm getting older. Dying to see how you solved your low and outside problem...

By the way, I read about Charlie in the L.A. Times Local section this morning. Hope it's nothing serious and that he's okay.

Anyway, let me know what weekend works for you for batting practice and I'll be there, okay?

Give my best to your Dad and tell Charlie to get well soon...

-Alex"

Don sat and stared at the email. Charlie? In the Times? Don was used to his brother being in the media for his academic achievements but Alex's email... Don felt a little chill wondering what he could be talking about.

Don brought up the L.A. Times web site but found that the online version of the Local section was only available to subscribers. He stopped a flight attendant to ask if they had newspapers, but they only had that day's Washington Post. Don's initial agitation was quickly turning into alarm. He needed to know what was going on. He got out of his seat and walked the aisles asking anyone who was reading a newspaper if it was the Los Angeles Times. He finally found a man reading the L.A. Times Sports section near the back of the plane. Don could tell by the game they were reporting on the front page that it was that morning's edition.

"Sir, I hate to bother you but if there's any way you could let me see the Local section of the paper. There's something in it I really need to see right away."

The man fished the section out of the stack of papers and handed it to him. "Keep it. I'm done with it."

"Thanks," Don barely managed to say as he strode back to his seat already scanning the front page for any signs of his brother's name. Don noticed the 'Inside Local' page number references and began to read through the half dozen titles there. He froze when he saw the third item listed.

'Local Math Genius Collapses at Conference'

Don felt like the plane had just dropped out from under him. Hands shaking, he sat back down in his seat and quickly turned to the page listed, almost tearing the fragile newsprint in his rush to read the article. When he got to the page, his eyes found the headline immediately. The subheadline stole the breath from his lungs.

"Cal Sci Professor Dr. Charles Eppes Hospitalized"

A feeling of panic swept over Don as he read the article as fast as he could, rapidly skimming the important phrases.

Wednesday morning... National Council of Teachers of Mathematics Conference... While giving a speech... Dr. Eppes collapsed and was taken to nearby Huntington Memorial Hospital... No word on his condition...

Don's head reeled and he was shaken to the core. How could this happen? How could he not know? Don knew he'd been avoiding his father's calls lately, but this? It seemed inconceivable that the Times could know more about his little brother than he did. A deep-seated guilt rose up in him; Don had told himself he'd never again allow the distance to creep in between him and his brother, like it had before he'd moved back home from New Mexico. But here, in his hands, was proof it had. Don had been so disconnected from his brother, from his family even, that an emergency of this magnitude had failed to reach him even after a whole day had passed.

The article went on to provide more biographical background on Charlie but Don didn't need any of that. What he needed was more information about what happened to him.

He used one of the airplane phones to call the house but his father didn't answer. He tried his father's cell phone, every number he had for Larry and Amita, even Charlie's office and cell phone hoping Amita might pick up there. Nothing. He finally called Terry. After getting her voicemail on her desk phone, he called her cell.

"Lake!"

"Thank god, Terry, it's Don. I need a favor."

"Sorry Don, can't do it right now. I'm on surveillance and my target is just heading out. I'll call you back later."

She hung up and Don almost slammed down the phone in frustration.

He finally called his own voicemail and listened to the messages his father had left him.

"Donnie, it's Dad. Listen I'm in the car on my way to Huntington Memorial. Larry just called to tell me something's wrong with Charlie. Call me back!"

"Donnie, I'm at the hospital with Charlie. I had to turn off my cell phone, hospital rules. So if you tried calling me while it was off and didn't leave a message well, call me again and leave me a message letting me know how quickly you can get back from D.C."

"Don, I've been calling your cell all day but lately I've just been getting a message saying you're off the network. I'm not sure where you are but your little brother's in the hospital and we need you here."

"Don, I called your office and they said they called Quantico to give you the message. I still have no messages from you so I'm not sure what's going on. Call me!"

When the messages were over, Don hung up the phone and put his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his temples as if to squeeze the sound of his father's voice out of his head. Each progressive message had been more frantic, and he could hear first the anxiety, then the disappointment, and then the anger in his father's voice as he realized Don wasn't returning his calls.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into Southern California and should be touching down in Burbank in twenty minutes."

Those twenty minutes felt like an eternity to Don.

He needed to see his brother and he needed to see him now.