I do not own the Numb3rs characters

A/N: I really want to thank those of you who stuck with the story this long.

Chapter 38

It felt good to have the mud washed off of him. He curls had been stiff with it. When Charlie stepped out the shower he noticed that he had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with him. He tied the towel around his waist and called his dad.

Alan came to the door. "Yes Charlie?"

"Can you please bring me some clothes? I forgot them."

"Sure. Be right back."

When Alan knocked on the door he opened it and thanked his dad for the clothes. When he looked at them though, he found that these were not his clothes. The boxers were his but the shirt and jeans were not.

"Dad?" He called out once more.

Alan was back at the door. "What is it Charlie?"

"These are not my clothes."

"Whose are they then?"

"They're Don's clothes. Please check again for mine."

"Charlie are you sure?"

"They're not mine Dad."

"Uh son, I only brought one change of clothes for each of you. Those were the orders from those people that were rushing me out the door."

Charlie opened the door a small bit and his face appeared in the small opening.

"Are you telling me that I don't have anything to wear but boxers?"

"Sorry. I can't understand it. They were in your dresser drawer."

"That would be because you're the one that does the laundry Dad."

"Well just try them on Charlie."

Charlie had put the jeans on. They were just a little too long and drug the floor. That would've been okay but when he fastened the snap on the pants, he knew he would have a problem. He turned them loose and sure enough, they fell right to the floor without the slightest hint of being slowed down by a hip.

"Dad, they don't fit."

"You are just going to have to do the best you can with them."

Charlie put the shirt on. It was just a normal t-shirt though and it was not so bad being a size or two too large.

"Dad? Did you bring a belt?"

"Do you even own a belt Charlie?"

Charlie sighed heavily. "The sweats that I sleep in?"

No, sorry. I didn't think of pajamas for any of us."

He considered the situation and decided he had very little choice. He opened the door. He hand was twisted at the top of the pants to hold them up. He could see that his Dad was trying not to laugh. Don however had not even tried to contain his.

Alan said, "See, you should have listened to me when I tried to get you to eat more."

Charlie glared at both of them. He looked at his brother and noticed that Don was not wearing any articles of Charlie's that could have been mistaken for his. "Dad? You didn't bring my either toothbrush did you?"

"Well Charlie, the man WAS rushing me out of the apartment and mine and Don's shaving kits were already together. Your stuff was a little more spread out."

"Did you bring anything for me at all?"

"I brought straws." Charlie went into one of the bedrooms and closed the door on his brother's laughter.

He found some socks that were Don's and sat down to put them on along with his still muddy shoes. Charlie had an idea. He opened the bedroom door. Alan was in the kitchen and did not see him. Charlie did not look at Don. He walked to the main door of the room, unlocked it, opened it and stepped outside. He was still holding the pants up.

He knew it wouldn't take long and sure enough there was an agent headed his way when Don grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back into the room. Charlie did manage to hold the door open though. His pants were grasped with very arm Don was pulling on.

When the agent appeared in front of him Charlie shook his arm loose from Don. He smiled at the agent. "Agent…?"

"Reynolds, sir."

"Agent Reynolds. I will give you eighty dollars for your belt."

The man's jaw dropped. Charlie was sure the agent must have not heard him correctly. He looked like Charlie had just offered to buy his wife.

"My belt?"

"Yes, it seems my father did not bring any of my clothes and I need a little help here."

"Sir, I need my belt."

"I could call the Director…." He never got to finish since Don yanked him back into the room and slammed the door.

By the time the door was closed and Charlie could take in what Don had just done, he was too busy reaching for the slipping pants to yell at his brother.

"What did you do that for?"

"You were going to threaten that agent to get what you wanted. Sounds like the Director has spoiled you just a little."

"I offered to pay for it. Don, I just want to be able to walk around without holding my pants up."

Alan appeared from the nearby doorway. "Dinner's ready."

Charlie turned toward the small kitchen just to get away from Don and sat in one of the chairs at the small table.

Charlie was irritated at both his brother and his father over the pants. He was frustrated that he could not even go back to his apartment and that there was the very important question of how many more were there out to get him, and exactly who "He" is. He was angry at his team members for the misplaced trust. He had seen two men die and he was standing close enough to one of them that if he had fallen in his direction he would have fallen on him. He was edgy and could not relax and he felt like he would just explode. He was beyond being able to control the emotions that were boiling to the top. He needed to run or he needed chalk. Both were out of reach for him right now.

Irrationally the only thing Charlie could think of was that if he ran out the door and had to run holding his pants up the agents would only catch him and haul him back and he'd probably lose the pants in the process.

Charlie was sitting just staring at the middle of the table. His anger and frustration was apparent on his face and when Alan opened his mouth to tell Charlie to eat, Don shook his head at him and mouthed "Not now."

A few minutes later Charlie scooted his chair back and when he got up and left the room, the chair fell backward onto the floor. He went back into the bedroom and he slammed the door. His adrenalin did not slow down any.

Back in the kitchen, Don propped his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his hands and sighed. "He'll be okay Dad. He has some anger he needs to get out and trust me, I've seen it many times, even felt it myself on occasion. Once he gets rid of the anger he should be fine. He'll overreact to everything until he can let go of it. It will be in the best interest of all of us if you and I can ignore the outbursts until he finds his way."

After he helped his father clean up Don came up with an idea. He went to the bathroom for the muddied pants that Charlie had been wearing earlier. They were stiff. He brushed the dried mud off as best he could and he walked to Charlie's room with them in his hand. He tapped lightly in case Charlie was sleeping.

But Charlie was leaning against the headboard with one hand behind his head and he was staring at the ceiling. His other hand was on his jaw. 'Probably because that tensed jaw looks to be gritting teeth.'

Don knew his words would get a reaction. "I'm getting us out of here for a little while."

Charlie looked from the ceiling toward Don. Don continued. "If you look out the window, you will see that there is a really large field behind this building. I'll convince the agent in charge that you need to get out and he can have his men watch the parking lot. The field is surrounded on two sides by fences anyway and you can run off some energy. You'll have to put up with me, but I think I can convince the agents to stay back to the parking lot."

Charlie was almost afraid to believe that he would be able to get outside. "What about Dad?"

"I think Dad will go along with it." He handed the jeans to Charlie and turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Don went back into the kitchen and found the medications. He got one of the pain pills for Charlie, a straw and bottle of water and went back into the main room and sat next to his father who was busy with a crossword puzzle.

"Charlie and I are going to head over to that field that's just on the other side of the parking lot. He'll be fine and can run off some of that anger he has."

"What about the agents in charge?"

"I'm headed that way to talk to them now. Are you okay with his?"

"I don't know if we have much choice. He will only get more tense as the night goes on."

He handed the items in his hand to his dad. "Great, I'll be right back. Give those to him when he comes out and make sure that he waits here for me to get back."

Don was back in less than five minutes. The agent was not happy with the idea but Don got on the phone with the Director to get full cooperation. He assured Thompkins that Charlie could be seen from the parking lot and the agents could still keep an eye on him. Don would be with Charlie and he would be armed. The Director understood the anger issue; he was dealing with some of that himself.

When Don and Charlie reached the field, Charlie just starting running with no warning at all. Don had seen the look in Charlie's eyes and he had a feeling that he would never be able to keep up with his brother. He was wrong, he kept up with him for the entire first lap and after that Charlie was on his own. Don knew that Charlie hadn't even noticed that his running partner had fallen behind. He was off in his own world now.

By the time Charlie slowed down and then stopped Don was sitting in the middle of the field just waiting. Charlie bounded up and sat on the grass with his brother. "Thanks Don that was a great run." As he was doing cool downs, Don could not help but notice what a difference it made to Charlie to be able to run. Don envied that he could make all of his problems disappear so easily if only for just a little while.

Alan had stood at the window of the apartment and watched after his sons left. It was almost as if Charlie was channeling all of that brain power to his legs, given how long Charlie could keep at it.

When Don and Charlie returned to the room they found a belt hanging on the door knob.

Charlie smiled at the gesture of one of the unknown agent and then again entered the room, closed and bolted the door.