Changes and Choices

Disclaimer: CBS owns Numb3rs. I don't.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! My apologies for a long wait. (This is what happens when you start with a one-shot and end up with a novel. Sometimes I have no idea what's going to happen next.) My life will be a little busy for the next two months so I think the next chapter will cause an equally long delay. --'

Death.

One would think that after years of working as an FBI agent, Don would be able to deal with the end of life with some degree of serenity. After all, he risked his life whenever he went out into the field. Surely he had come to terms with dying. He thought he had, detaching himself from the victims in his cases as best he could. It was a coping mechanism that most agents developed. They had to, in order to do their jobs.

But all that distance had collapsed into nothingness when he had received that fateful phone call three years ago. Don still could hear his mother's soft voice as she told him over the phone that she had cancer, most likely terminal. All the regrets he had: the missed parties, the too-rare family visits, the childhood resentment of Charlie being her favorite, his purposeful neglect to request a transfer back to Los Angeles… All of it had bubbled up from inside him. So he had gone home, gone back to his family, gone back to his mother, and made his peace.

Don now understood his mother a little better than when he had left for Quantico. Yes, undeniably Charlie was her favorite, but she didn't love her eldest any less. Margaret Eppes worried, as any mother would, about the son who, as a federal agent, hunted down cold-blooded criminals for a living. She just also happened to have concerns about the son who was a mathematical genius, trying to give him as normal a life as she could. Don had been there to say his apologies and receive a few unexpected ones from his mother before she passed away.

But with Terry… Don closed his eyes, shutting out the image that was seared into his mind. Terry, his vibrant, spunky partner, his friend for over a decade, motionless on the hospital bed, eyes closed and her skin a deathly pallor. There was still so much left unsaid, unresolved between them. This was what he was always afraid of: that if he allowed himself to fall in love with her and something happened to her while they were in the field… He couldn't handle it, not being able to protect her. But he could not handle this. He could not bear the thought of losing her without ever telling her how much he still loved her. Don opened his eyes again and tried to take in a steadying breath before he slowly approached her bedside.

Machines hummed softly around her recumbent form, monitoring her vital signs. Automatically, Don looked at the heart monitor. It was beeping steadily, but he couldn't shake the fear that was strangling his breathing. A hint of white bandaging peeked out from under her hospital gown, concealing whatever wounds that had put her in the ICU and fighting for her life. He sank into the chair by her bedside. He had never seen her look so vulnerable. Don took her hand, so cold, so limp, in his own warm ones, willing for her to open her eyes and smile at him, give him the chance to say what he needed to say. She gave no sign of recognizing his presence. Don felt helpless, sitting there by her side, waiting for her to wake up.

Time passed slowly for him as he sat by Terry's bedside, waiting and praying. Jasmine had come in once to inform him that the still-ongoing case needed her presence at Headquarters and told him to ask the guard to contact her if he needed anything. Don had nodded in reply. Understanding his state of mind, the other agent had left without another word.

Don struggled to keep himself optimistic and he began to think about what he wanted to say when Terry woke up. An abrupt confession of love would not do. That could ruin everything that the two of them had if she didn't feel the same way. He would have to break his feelings to her gently and see if she responded in the like. From there, his mind, exhausted, began to drift through old memories that Don had not thought of for years.

"Hi," a female voice said quietly behind him. In the process of packing up his books in the rapidly emptying classroom, Don half-turned to see the strawberry-blond standing behind him. She smiled slightly, her hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. She hugged her textbook on Forensic Science against her chest.

"Hi," he replied, turning fully around to face her. She was one of his classmates in Criminal Profiling at Quantico. Out of the many bright agents-in-training, she was near the top of the class in rank. Don rapidly ran through a list of his colleagues in his mind, finally remembering her last name. He asked with a friendly grin, "Lake, right?"

At that, her smile, if anything, became broader and she replied, "Terry. My first name's Terry."

"I'm Don," he shook her hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," said Terry in her soft voice. "I was just wondering if you would be interested in joining a study group on the weekends. We could really use someone who's good with Forensics."

"Sure," he said. Don found the experience of becoming a FBI agent challenging, but enjoyable. Besides being physically fit, they had to study psychology and profiling, memorize extensive law codes, and learn the proper procedures that would protect them in the field. Finals would require extensive preparations academic-wise and he had not looking forward to doing hours of revision alone. With a study group, it might actually make revisions less dull and more interesting.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but being out on his own, so far away from his family, was very lonely for him. Don was used to being able to come home and having his father there with the latest baseball stats, or Charlie to ramble on about math, or his mother to cook one of her delicious turkey dinners. But now they were on the other side of the nation and he had his chance to learn how to live without depending on anyone but himself. He looked forward to getting a chance to get to know his future coworkers beyond the classroom setting and to enjoy the company they would provide.

Don had joined the study group which was made up of some of the brightest minds in the Academy. All of them had been brought together by academics and a drive to succeed, but friendship gradually replaced grades as the main reason for the group to continue meeting. Even after graduation, the eight or so agents still kept in touch with one another through the occasional phone call, email or case. Don and Terry's acquaintance had started out like all the others in the study group, but it had gradually developed into something beyond friendship.

As he hit the padded floor again, Don mentally berated himself for being a chauvinistic fool. Terry, still standing, smiled down at him. On the mat next to them, a trainee fell over, caught off balance by her partner. The two of them went down with an 'oof!' Around them, other agents-in-training were sparring or practicing maneuvers to disarm suspects. A few days ago, Terry had offered to tutor him in hand-to-hand combat. Wanting to spend more time with her, away from the study group, Don had accepted. He just hadn't expected her to be so tough.

"You're getting there," she remarked. "Just stop underestimating me." Ah, so she knew too. Don guessed that he did deserve the beating he was getting. Her brother, apparently, was a Marine and had taught his little sister a few tricks to protect herself during her adolescent years.

'I just hope all of the suspects that I encounter don't look as pretty as you.' Heavens, did he just say that aloud? Don froze on the floor. Terry, however, didn't seem to have heard his remark. He quickly stood up again while she took a drink from her water bottle.

"Ready?" he asked, privately hoping the answer would be no. His body was already beginning to feel sore from the pounding she was giving him. 'This is good training,' he reminded himself, trying to remain optimistic. After all, there was going to be a field exercise in about two hours. 'It's going to be worse in the field.' Another part of him chimed in that it was going to be worse in the training exercise for him because of Terry's pounding. He ignored it.

"Sure," she smiled brightly at him and put down her water bottle. Don wrote a mental note to himself to never ever mess with Terry Lake, especially in hand-to-hand combat.

Even in the midst of his fear and inner turmoil, a slight smile graced Don's lips as he remembered when he had first asked her out. Terry was by no means the first woman he took out on a date, but he had felt nervous just the same. It must have been their third year in the Academy on a beautiful spring day….

"See you in Forensics!" Their informal study group had been meeting in the library during a rare free period during the day. As classes were due to resume in ten minutes, the group had broken up to depart to various locations scattered across the compound until there were only Don and Terry left. He mustered up his courage, steadied his nerves and walked over to stand next to her. She glanced over at him as her hands quickly packed her notebooks back into her satchel.

"Would you like to go out with me tonight?" he asked.

"I would love to," Terry answered, "but I have to do my laundry." She slung the bag's strap over her shoulder. They walked out of the library together. Her answer, while throwing him off for a moment, didn't deter him from trying again.

"That's okay," he quickly replied. "We can do our laundry together." He silently thanked his mother for teaching him how to use a laundry machine properly all those years go. He did not want to look like a fool, not in front of Terry.

"All right, if that's what you want," she acquiesced, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. As he walked her to her class, the two of them chatted about other subjects, including a fellow classmate's courtship with an enlisted man from Norfolk. When they reached Terry's classroom, Don stopped and asked, "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"All right," she gave him a coy smile just before she entered her class. Don indulged in a few moments of jubilation that he finally asked Terry out before hurrying to his own class. From what his classmates had told him, he had a small self-satisfied look on his face for the rest of the day.

Even when he was courting Kim, nothing matched that date in the Laundromat. The two of them had joked and laughed as they washed their clothes. He would always remember the gentle, hesitant kiss the two of them shared that night before she went into her apartment: the twinkle in her eyes as they leaned in closer, the softness of her lips, her low moan that sent tingles up and down his spine, the gentle vanilla scent of her soap, and the beautiful blush that had spread over her cheeks after they broke apart. Those little things had clung to his memory, even after they had parted ways post-graduation.

When he had met Terry again, after all those years, Don had expected to see some changes. He knew about her short-lived marriage that had ended in a nasty divorce. He knew that being police officers, both of them had seen the darker side of human nature. He knew that being a profiler meant that Terry had the ability to think like a criminal and surely that would change her. But he was surprised by how much she had not changed.

She still retained that dazzling smile, though he saw it rarely now. The twinkle in her eyes was still there when she was amused. She was still a steadying force in Don's life. Even in the worst of circumstances, she kept her calm and could be counted on to be reasonable, especially if a situation went south. She was there to comfort him when he struggled to cope with his mother's impending death and through the grief-filled months following her passing. Terry was blunt when she had to be, especially when he was frustrated. She helped him understand how Charlie thought and reasoned, no easy feat. She was his loyal partner who, as his father had hinted, had a lot more hidden behind her façade of partnership. Would they have a chance to explore it? As Lewis had said, "Things could still go either way."

At that thought, his vision began to blur and his breathing became harder, but he didn't take notice. It was only when someone's hand came into his line of vision, silently offering him a tissue, did Don realize that he was crying. The young nurse gently set the box of tissues on the bedside table beside him and smiled sympathetically. She then silently checked Terry's vital signs and left the room.

Don continued his vigil as the afternoon passed, afraid that if he left her bedside for too long, he would return to find the unspeakable. There was some shuffling outside the door when the guards changed shifts and the nurse came by periodically, thoughtfully bringing Don a water bottle once. She hadn't said anything when she gave him the bottle, but the look on her face had silently ordered him to drink without fuss. He had obeyed. But other than that, there was no disturbance.

That changed when the nurse came in on her fifth visit. Instead of walking directly to the foot of Terry's bed to pick up the medical chart, she came to his side and leaned down slightly to speak in his ear.

"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse said quietly, as if afraid of waking her patient, "but visiting hours are over soon. You'll need to leave. I assure you, if anything changes, you'll be called immediately." She added, reading the emotions on Don's face correctly, "Ms. Lake has been stable for the past six hours. I can't say for certain that she'll be all right, but I'm fairly sure of it. And to be honest, sir, you look like you could use the rest. Let us look after her tonight."

"All right," he conceded reluctantly. The nurse squeezed his shoulder in support before she performed her duties and left, skirting past Jasmine Lewis who was standing in the doorway.

"Agent Eppes?"

"Please," he turned around in his seat without rising, "Don." She smiled back tightly, "Then please, Jasmine." The smile disappeared, "Visiting hours are almost over and I still owe you an explanation for what happened. How about we get you checked into the hotel and talk this over dinner?"

"Thank you," he said. He looked back at Terry. The nurse had been earnest in her reassurances and he would have to trust her. Color had gradually returned to Terry's cheeks over the past few hours and warmth to her hands. It did indeed seem that she would be all right. Don relaxed his grip on her hand and stood up slowly. Terry would be okay. He repeated to himself like a mantra. She would be okay. Now it was time he found out who had put her in this condition.

"All right," said Don, picking up his suit jacket and following Jasmine out of the hospital.

The two of them ended up at a small local restaurant in a back booth, sipping coffee while they waited for their dinner. Jasmine had been silent while she drove him to the hotel and helped him check in. Don waited for her to start. He could tell that she knew he would not like what she had to say. The female agent took a sip of her coffee, sighed and began.

"About two months ago, the agent in charge of leading the profiling classes at the Academy took an emergency personal leave of absence. A family member was in the hospital and he needed to be there for his family. Various agents filled in the position while the search for a temporary replacement went on. As you know, we eventually offered the position to Agent Lake. She agreed to lead seminars on profiling and forensic psychology for one month while we searched for a permanent replacement.

"At the same time, we were in the midst of a large investigation. I can't go into details here, but we were preparing to make a bust when she arrived. Knowing that profiling was her area of expertise, we approached her for help in conducting a few interrogations for us. She agreed.

"Last night, when one of the suspects was being removed to lock-up, he managed to grab another agent's gun. There was a struggle between the three of them for control." Jasmine looked down at her coffee mug. Her voice was barely above a whisper and filled with anguish and self-recrimination. "She was shot at close range in the chest."

"And the suspect?" asked Don. It took all of his training to keep himself calm and ignore the emotions boiling within him. To the FBI, he had to be her partner, nothing more, nothing less. He had to stay in control.

"He was subdued. As I've said before, he will be tried for assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder, and I have no doubt he will be convicted."

"I see," he said tightly. Don didn't ask if he could have a little 'chat' with the suspect. It would be unprofessional of him and Jasmine would not grant the request even if he did ask. She was smart and had probably had the man transferred to a federal penitentiary long before Don's flight had landed in Virginia. Then he caught a glimpse the anger in her brown eyes, mirroring his own. He amended his thoughts; perhaps she had the man sent away before anyone was tempted to 'chat' with him about nearly murdering a federal agent.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Don just nodded as the waitress approached with their warm meals. He forced himself to eat. Jasmine kept her silence, letting him sort through all of his emotions in peace. After dinner, she drove him back to the hotel, promising to pick him up at eight the next morning. Don went up to his room, called his father to reassure him that the flight was uneventful and that Terry's condition had improved, showered and changed into more comfortable clothing before he tried to get some rest. He tossed and turned in bed, occasionally waking up in a sweat, his heart pounding from nightmares, both old and new. It was only in the early morning hours that his body, finally pushed to its limits by exhaustion, collapsed into an uneasy, restless sleep.