Disclaimer: Sadly, I have no affiliation whatsoever with Numb3rs. I'll have to let the characters go soon, though. They're getting entirely too inventive in planning their escape. If one of them managed to get away, I'd be in hot water indeed.

Retribution Ch.3:

Alan disconnected the call thoughtfully and placed Charlie's cell phone back on the counter. He stared at it for a moment, replaying the conversation with his eldest son in his head. After a moment's indecision, he turned and made his way back up the stairs to Charlie's room. Opening the door soundlessly, he watched as the young man stirred in his sleep. He had just about made up his mind to let him alone when Charlie let out a low moan. Alan stepped into the room and knelt beside the bed. Placing a hand on Charlie's forehead, he was shocked to find it hot and dry. Truly alarmed now, Alan put both hands on Charlie's shoulders and shook him gently.

"Charlie, wake up," he said softly. Getting no response, he shook a little harder. "Charlie!" He raised his voice, not bothering to disguise the tinge of panic that crept into it. "Charlie, son, wake up! Wake up, Charlie!"

Charlie tossed his head for a moment before coming around. Seeing this, Alan flipped on the bedside lamp. Charlie looked at him through glassy eyes, his face flushed. He swallowed a couple times before managing to whisper, "Dad?"

"Charlie," Alan said, panic mounting, "You're burning up, son. You've got a fever. Do you want a drink of water?"

The young mathematician regarded his father for a second and then a blank look passed over his face.

"Charlie?"

Without warning, Charlie flung back the covers and launched himself out of bed. His hand clamped firmly over his mouth, Charlie made it to the bathroom just before he became violently ill. Alan followed and stood in the doorway, concern etched on his features. After a few minutes with no sign of letup, he said, "I'm calling an ambulance." He turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving Charlie crouched over the toilet bowl. At the bottom, he grabbed the portable phone and was just about to dial when Don and Megan burst through the front door.

"Dad!" Don said breathlessly. "Is Charlie still in bed?"

Alan demanded, "Don, what the hell is going on? What's wrong with your brother?"

Don glanced at Megan before replying. "I'm not sure - maybe nothing. Why? What happened?"

"I was about to call an ambulance," Alan said heatedly, gesturing with the phone still in his hand. "After you called, I got worried, so I went and woke him up. He barely made it to the bathroom in time, he's so sick."

"Dad," Don placed his hands on his father's shoulders. "I'm sorry, but…" He glanced at Megan. "We think Charlie may have been poisoned."

"Wh- what?" Alan faltered. "Poisoned? How? With what?"

Megan spoke. "Mr. Eppes, we think Charlie may have drank something. We don't know what it was yet, but it might be the reason he's sick now."

Don turned to her. "Megan, stay with my dad and call the ambulance. I'm going to check on Charlie." He faced Alan and said, "He'll be okay, Dad," before heading for the stairs. Megan took the phone from Alan's limp grasp and dialed 9-1-1. Don started up the staircase just as she began speaking to the emergency operator.

Suddenly there was a resounding crash from the second floor. Don hesitated only a second before racing up the stairs, his father now directly behind him. Both men called desperately as they gained the upper hallway. Don skidded to a stop in the open bathroom doorway, causing the older Eppes to crash into him.

From the look of the room, Charlie had attempted to wash his face and blacked out. The water in the sink was still running, objects from the top of the vanity had been swept to the floor, and there was a wet washcloth lying on the edge of the sink. The mathematician himself was in a crumpled heap in front of the tub, unconscious.

"Charlie!" Don cried, galvanized into action. He dashed to his brother's side and turned him over. Alan entered the bathroom more slowly, mechanically turning off the tap as he passed. Don checked his brother's vital signs and was reassured to find a faint pulse, although it was fast and irregular. He placed his hand on Charlie's face.

"He's burning up!" He looked up at Alan. "How long has he been like this?"

"He was okay when he came home," Alan replied. "He didn't eat much for supper. Said he had an upset stomach."

Don grabbed the cloth from the sink and folded it before placing it on Charlie's brow. Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed Megan standing in the doorway.

"Rescue's on its way," she said. "I told them it was a poisoning, and they're prepared."

"Good," Don nodded. To Alan, he said, "Dad, take one of those towels and get it wet, will you? We've got to try to cool him off."

Alan grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and threw it into the tub. Stepping over Charlie's still form, he turned the bathtub faucet on full, drenching the fabric in seconds. After wringing it out slightly he handed it to Don, then pulled another off a shelf and threw it in the tub, too.

Don placed the towel on Charlie's torso, instantly soaking his thin t-shirt. Charlie shuddered, but didn't regain consciousness. Don lifted his brother's head and put the second damp towel underneath. He picked up the washcloth and felt it, then handed it to his father, saying, "I don't know if it's helping, but I can't think of what else to do." Alan took the cloth and held it under the stream of water. He handed it back, barely wrung out. As Don reached for it, he glanced at his father's face, startled by what he saw there. Alan's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. A siren could be heard in the distance.

"Hey, Dad," said Don, his own vision beginning to blur. "It'll be okay." The older man simply nodded and turned to shut off the tap.

Megan cleared her throat, startling them both. "I'm going to go wait for rescue downstairs, okay?" she asked.

Don barely looked at her. "Good idea. Send them up here." She nodded once and disappeared from the doorway. Don refocused his attention on Charlie, noticing for the first time a shallow cut on his forehead. Picking up a corner of the washcloth, he gently dabbed away the blood, saying softly, "C'mon, buddy. Wake up."

"Don," Alan said. Don slowly lifted his eyes to meet his father's direct gaze. "Tell me this has nothing to do with you. With a case you're working on."

Don looked down at Charlie, unable to answer. Alan spoke again, more urgently. "Tell me, Don! Tell me if this is something you brought your brother in to help you with, that got him…" he broke off. The noise of the siren, growing in volume, suddenly stopped.

"Dad," Don shook his head. "I don't know what happened. I don't know who did this." He paused and took a deep breath. Expelling it slowly, he finally looked up, deliberately masking his inner emotions. "But I can promise you this - my whole team is on this case, and we will find who did it. And when we do," his voice went flat, "Whoever it was will pay dearly." He stood as two paramedics hurried into the room, efficiently taking control of the situation. They carried bags of equipment and a long spinal board, the latter of which they slipped under Charlie's prone form almost immediately. One of the men glanced up at Don, then Alan. "Can either of you tell us what he ingested?"

"No," Don replied. He watched as they went back to work, checking Charlie's vitals and starting intravenous lines. They had him strapped to the board and ready to move in less than two minutes. Each shouldering a bag, they stooped, picked up the board at either end and expertly maneuvered out of the small space, experience showing in every move. Somewhat comforted by the show of efficiency, Alan let out a sigh and laid a hand on Don's shoulder. "I'm going to go with him," he said quietly.

Nodding, Don replied, "I'll be right behind you."

Downstairs, the paramedics had Charlie strapped onto a stretcher and were rapidly wheeling him out to the waiting ambulance. As soon as he was loaded in, one climbed in to sit beside the stretcher while the other helped Alan step up into the vehicle. Slamming the doors shut, the second medic raced around the side of the unit and hopped into the driver's seat. As the ambulance roared away, lights and sirens going full force, Don turned to Megan.

"Did David call?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she replied, "Granger doesn't have anything from the lab yet, either. I checked."

Don made for the open door, saying, "We're following the ambulance to the hospital. When we get there, I want you to go back to the office and go through that tape - find out everything you can about this guy." He stopped to lock the front door behind them. "Help David go through those files and see if you can pick out likely candidates."

Climbing into the truck, they mechanically fastened their seatbelts and closed the doors, each thinking the same thing: finding this guy would be like searching for the proverbial needle. Without something more to go on, he could very well slip through their fingers, leaving him free to strike again at whomever he thought was important to Don.

Don turned the key viciously in the ignition, venting his frustration on the vehicle's starter. Seeing Megan's sidelong look, he slammed the transmission into gear and the big SUV once more leaped into the street.

"We'll get him, Don," she said firmly, hoping the conviction in her voice got through to him. His ice-cold demeanor worried her. When he didn't respond, she looked directly at him and repeated, "We'll get him. We're all working on this."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. After a moment, he nodded. Megan faced the street again and added, "We'll also look into how he managed to get whatever that was into the office." Don finally tore his eyes from the road and looked at her fully, his mouth open in surprise.

"Well didn't you wonder?" she said defensively. "It's not a cafeteria in there, it's the FBI office. It's not like he could waltz in and out without there being a record of it somewhere. Even your brother…" she trailed off, unsure of whether to finish the thought. Don did it for her.

"Even my brother needs identification." He sighed and nodded his head. "You're right, Megan. I should have thought of that."

"If it'll make you feel better," she replied with a small smile, "I'll tell everyone it was your idea."

Don did a double take and then smiled despite himself. Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. He chuckled softly and said, "Yeah, you do that."

Upon reaching the hospital, Don jumped out and Megan slid over. He turned to her and said, "I'll have my phone off, so I'll call in about half an hour." He hesitated, then added, "Thanks, Megan."

"You're welcome," she replied, fastening her belt. "Good luck."

"You too," he called as she pulled away. He paused for a moment to power off his cell phone, then hurried through the emergency doors. He found his father waiting just inside the entrance, the tension he was feeling evident in every movement.

"Don! There you are!" the older Eppes exclaimed.

"Hey Dad," Don said. Placing a hand on his father's elbow, he steered him to a nearby nursing station. "Has anyone told you what's going on?"

Alan shook his head sadly. "They just told me to 'make room' and took him through there." He gestured to an area separated from the main corridor by sliding frosted glass doors. Just then, the doors parted and a harried looking man in green scrubs came out. He stopped for a moment, glancing around, then made his way to the station through various groups of people who were milling around. Reaching the desk, he leaned over and said to the woman standing there, "Eppes?"

Don moved toward the man, holding out his hand. "Don Eppes, and this is my father, Alan."

"Chris Garret," he said, shaking each one by the hand. "I'm the resident on Charlie's case."

"How's he doing?" Don asked.

Garret scratched his head, reminding Don of his brother's friend Larry. "Not too well, I'm afraid. He fell and cracked his head - which isn't serious, by the way. Few stitches there, that's all. As for the other… " He trailed off.

"We think it may have been in something he drank, Doctor," Alan put in. "Can you find out what it is? Maybe give him an antidote or something?"

"We're running tests now," Garret replied. "So far, nothing's conclusive. He was lucid for a while, and he said he'd actually thrown up a few times, which would account for the dehydration." He looked at Don curiously. "You're with the FBI?" he asked.

"Yeah, how did you…?" Don began, but his father interrupted. "I told the paramedic on the ride over, Don."

Garret continued, "So your brother ingested this poison this evening?"

Nodding, Don said, "It was in a cup of tea he drank."

"How do you know this?" the resident asked. "Did you have it tested?"

Don glanced at his father before answering. "It's being tested now. That's why I can't tell you what it was yet. The results haven't come back."

Garret shook his head, clearly puzzled. "How do you know it was in the tea, then?"

Don sighed, bracing himself for his father's response. "The person responsible called me and told me he was going to do something - as payback."

"What?" Alan burst out. "Some psychotic animal called you and said he was going to poison your brother to get you back?" Don put his hands up to fend off the verbal assault. "Why didn't you say something? Warn him, at least?"

"Dad! Dad, slow down," Don said, taking a step back. "Just calm down. Don't you think I would have if I'd known about it? The guy only called me after the fact. Charlie had been out of the office for at least three, maybe four hours by then." He placed his hands on Alan's shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. "Once I figured out he was talking about the tea, I phoned you and headed straight for the house."

Garret interrupted, "I'm sorry, Agent Eppes. Did you say 'once you figured it out'?" Don nodded at him. "What did this person say, exactly?"

Don thought for a moment, recalling the man's exact words. He hesitated before divulging the information, though, as it was part of an ongoing investigation and therefore confidential. Alan saw this on his older son's face and said, in a threatening voice, "Don!"

He gave up. His brother's safety came first. "He told me to have a cup of herbal tea and spend a few minutes with some prayer beads to calm me down."

Garret's face drained of color. "Prayer beads?" he asked. "Are you sure - are you positive - that's what he said?"

"Yeah, why?" Don asked, and Alan said, "What does that mean, Doctor?"

The resident stared at them with a shocked expression on his face. "It's not good, if it means what I think it does. Agent Eppes, is there any chance your office would have those results back by now?"

"I can call now," Don said. "Where are the payphones?"

"You can use the one here," Garret replied. He picked up the phone on the desk and set it on a ledge next to Don, who began dialing.

Alan glanced at the glass doors, then turned to Garret. "Shouldn't you be in there?" he asked.

Shaking his head, he answered, "Not at the moment. He's being monitored and there are three people in there taking care of him. Until we find out what he took, all we can do is keep him hydrated."

"Okay, thanks Colby," Don said and hung up. Turning to Garret, he said, "Our lab says it's something called 'abrin'. Can you get an antidote for that?" Alan turned to the young man hopefully.

Once more, Garret shook his head. "I was afraid of that, as soon as you said 'prayer beads'."

"What?" Don demanded. "Afraid of what?"

Alan reached for Don's hand, reluctant to hear the doctor's response.

Garret took a deep breath, then guided them to a nearby bench, motioning them to sit. After they complied, he perched on the edge of a handy wooden planter and explained. "Abrin goes by many names, one of which is 'prayer bead'. It's not contagious, but it is a very, very dangerous substance." He paused to let this sink in, then said quietly. "There is no antidote for abrin."

"What happens now?" Don asked in a strangled voice. "Is Charlie going to… " He couldn't finish.

Alan tried. "He's going to make it, though, isn't he?"

The doctor looked at them both steadily for a moment before replying. "Charlie's got a very good chance at surviving this. He's young, healthy and strong. But I won't lie to you," he added. "It's very unusual for abrin to take effect within hours. Usually it takes anywhere from one to three days for the symptoms to show. He must have had a large dose." He looked at Don to see if he could provide any information. Don said, "It was quite a bit, I guess. I don't know how much for sure."

Garret stood, and the other two men followed suit. "The main thing is, we have to make sure he stays hydrated, and monitor him closely for any other symptoms. If anything else shows up, then we'll deal with it aggressively, so all Charlie has to do is get better."

Alan looked at him closely. "What other symptoms are we talking about here?"

"Mr. Eppes," he began, then hesitated. Obviously, he wasn't happy about going into details, but he seemed to come to a decision and continued. "Abrin affects the cardiovascular system, the digestive system, the muscles, the liver, the kidneys - it's an insidious drug. I say 'drug' because it has its uses, too. But mainly it gets into the cells and prevents them from making proteins. If we can get Charlie through the next three or four days, he'll be fine."

Don asked, "Can we see him?"

"Sure," Garret replied, turning toward the sliding doors. "I'll give you a few minutes alone. He's not conscious, but he'll know you're there." He led the two men to the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Twenty minutes later, Don emerged from the hospital looking considerably calmer than he felt. He had left his father at Charlie's bedside in the intensive care unit with a vow to return soon. Charlie had been completely out of it, not responding in any way to their repeated pleas to wake up and talk to them. He was still flushed, but his fever had gone down somewhat and his skin was no longer dry.

Taking out his cell phone, Don powered it up and then hit the speed dial for the office.

"Colby?" he said when it was answered. "It's Don. He's… as well as can be expected. They're doing what they can. Listen… I'm all finished here for now, so can you tell Megan to come back and pick me up? I'm going to…" He paused while the other man spoke.

"What do you mean, she never came back?"