Series: Numb3rs
Season: 2
Part: 4/7
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

A/N: I would like to thank CELADON for helping me proofing this part. Thank you! I really appreciate your help. I still have some issues with my English, but I'm learning. Please be patient – Thanks!

Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long

Chapter 4: You Are Not Alone.

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FBI Special Agent Megan Reeves paced the entrance of UCLA Medical's Emergency Department. She and her colleague, Special Agent David Sinclair, had made it there in a record time, beating the Eppes. On their way to the hospital, she had established the first contact with the ER personnel in order to brief them on the suspected cause of her Team Leader and friend's illness – Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome, or HPS for short.

They had met Dr. Jim Ma, the Chief Immunologist, on arrival. The physician, an Asian man in his mid-forties, assured them that the proper protocols were being put in place.

"What's taking them so long?" Megan asked, frustrated.

David had no answer for her. He was leaning against the wall, his features tight. Finally they heard the distinctive sound of an ambulance siren closing in.

"They're here," Dr. Ma announced, as he joined them along with two female nurses in their mid-thirties.

Two paramedics rolled in a stretcher with a very still Don Eppes lying on it. Megan felt a knot form in her throat as she took in her friend's condition. His eyes were closed. An oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth. He was too pale. She did not give any attention to the medical personnel surrounding her as she started walking alongside the stretcher, focused only on Don. She gently reached for his shoulder. She was not surprised to find heat radiating through his clothes.

They reached an examination cubicle. Megan stood out of the way as the paramedics transferred Don to awaiting bed. Following one last exchange with the doctor, the two EMTs gathered their equipment and left. Quickly, one nurse settled her patient's IV bag on a pole, while other hooked him up to a heart monitor. Blood was drawn while Dr. Ma started to poke around his patient's body, taking notes on a chart as he went. He gave a few orders to one of the nurses, who then left purposefully. They were eventually joined by a technician with a portable chest X-Ray machine.

Don's lungs were X-Rayed, while the nurse came back with another IV bag and a few syringes.

"I want an EKG and an echocardiogram before we send him upstairs to the ICU," he told the nurses. He then turned to face Megan. "Agent Reeves, we won't know for sure if it's indeed HPS before the lab confirms it, but Agent Eppes already shows the prodomes for it: fever higher than 101.O F, dry cough, myalgias, headaches, nausea and vomiting. At this point, I'm mainly concerned by his apparent tachycardia and tacchyapnea."

"Tacchyapnea?" Megan asked. "I'm familiar with tachycardia: fast heart beat, but what's tacchyapnea?"

"Fast breathing. The patient breathes 26 to 30 times per minute," the doctor explained.

"And myalgias are muscle pains, right?"

"Yes. We're starting him on a wide spectrum antibiotic therapy right away to be on the safe side," he gave her a kind smile. "He's conscious. You may have a few minutes with him."

Megan walked up to the bed. Don eyes were closed. He looked asleep. She wondered if the doctor had not been mistaken in saying that he was awake. Gently, she put a hand on Don's right arm. She blinked as she noticed his dark eyes looking up at her.

"Megan," she heard him say despite the mask.

"May I?" she asked one of the nurses, pointing to the mask.

The nurse briskly nodded, before going back to her monitoring.

Megan pulled the mask down delicately.

"Hey," Don breathed.

"Hey yourself," she said with a smile. "Don't feel so great, huh?"

"You know what's going on?" he asked between two breaths.

She recognized her boss's 'down-to-business' attitude.

"We've got some suspicions," she replied calmly.

He tilted his head to the side and coughed. "Heard HPS," he told her as he made eye contact with her, again. "Hantavirus?" He was worried. With good reason.

"That's what we're afraid of," she confirmed.

Tears were threatening to rise. She forced them away. She had to remain strong. For both of them.

"Deadly." Don's whisper caught her full in the chest.

"It might be, yes," she was forced to agree. "Listen to me, Don. Let's see what the Doctor finds out before jumping to conclusions. Okay?"

"How - how did you find out?" He answered his own question. "Others have it."

"Three others came down with it so far," Megan informed him. "One in New York and two in Montreal."

"Véronique and Pierre-André?" Don asked.

Véronique Dupuis and Pierre-André Leblanc were Don's main Canadian liaisons on the International Anti-Sex Trade Task Force.

"Véronique has been infected, but not Pierre-André. He's tests came back negative," she told him. "Don, the thing is, we don't know where you contracted the virus. We were hoping you could help us out with that."

He closed his eyes for a moment. He coughed again. The same dry cough. "Been on the road a lot. Megan, I've seen – this - in New Mexico," he told her. "The odds are -"

"The odds are 50/50," she finished for him, knowing he was talking about his 40-50 chances of survival.

"Not even." Of course, he would be aware of the real odds. "Dad? Charlie?"

"They must be here by now. David's probably with them."

"Charlie – he's no good with this stuff."

"We'll take care of him. We'll take care of both Charlie and your father. Don't worry. Concentrate on getting better."

"My case files are -" He was getting tired and it was harder for him to breathe. "At the house. Charlie - he can help you… Give him something to do."

"I will. Don't worry about Charlie. He wouldn't want you to. Rest, now." She put the mask back over his face, putting an end to their conversation. She watched him close his eyes and slowly drift away. She forced herself to swallow and to keep taking deep regular breaths. Why was this happening? Don was one of the finest men she had ever worked with – that she knew. This was not fair! It was not fair for any of them. She brought her left hand to his forehead and caressed his hot skin, gently. "You have to fight this, Don," she whispered. "We'll be right here with you."

She turned to Dr. Ma, who was now standing behind her.

"Have you learned any information that could help locate the origin of the virus?" the immunologist asked.

"I've got a place to start looking," she replied.

"Assuming this is HPS, and I'm pretty sure that it is based on his symptoms and chest X-Rays," Dr. Ma began. "I would say that he's been infected sometime during the last 10 days. However, it could go as far back as five weeks ago."

"Five weeks!" Megan's heart sank even further. The sooner Don was treated, the better chance he had. Five weeks. Don could be gone in a matter of days, even hours…

Her eyes met Dr. Jim Ma's.

"We'll take good care of him," he assured her. "His father and brother have arrived. They're with your colleague. Let's go brief them on Agent Eppes's condition while the nurses prepare his transfer to the ICU."

Megan nodded. Her gazed fell back on Don's still form one last time. She said a quick prayer. Then she followed the physician to the waiting area.

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"Man," Colby sighed. "He looks awful."

"And he's about to get a lot worse," Megan stated dejectedly.

Special Agent Colby Granger had joined Megan at UCLA Medical ICU for an update on his boss's condition. They were standing side by side, looking at two doctors and a nurse fussing around Don through the glass window. Don had his head tilted towards them. Again, his eyes were closed. An oxygen mask was still covering his face.

"What are they doing to him? Do you know?" Colby asked, referring to the doctors.

"They're inserting a pulmonary catheter through one of the femoral vein in his arm," Megan explained. They opted for that route instead of a subclavian one because his breathing problems. It takes longer, but that way they don't have to tilt his head downward. Doing so could have comprised his breathing even more."

"I was reading on HPS earlier, before I came," Colby told her. "There's no antivirus for this. The best treatment is to put the patient on a ventilation system. Are they planning on doing that soon?"

"Yeah. The pulmonary catheter will give them more accurate information on when he will go into the next phase of the disease. I think they'll put him on the ventilation then. He should get into that phase within the next 24 to 72 hours. Maybe sooner."

"Hey," Colby whispered, bringing a hand to Megan's shoulder for support. "Don's going to pull trough this. This virus might be nasty, but it never met our tough-as-nails boss before. It's in for a fight! And my bet's on Don for the win."

"My bet is on him, too," they heard Alan Eppes's confident tone coming from behind them. "I'll admit that it feels good not to be the only one, though."

"How are you holding up, Mr. Eppes?" Megan asked.

"It's 'Alan', Megan. Please. For all of you," the elder Eppes reminded them, not for the first time. They nodded. "I'm holding up as best as can be expected. Thank you for being here."

"Where's David?" Colby asked. "I thought he was here already. Is he somewhere with Charlie?"

"Yes," Alan answered. "They went back to the house to retrieve Don's case files. It's good thing, too. Charlie doesn't have to see this again," he said referring to the procedure Don was presently undergoing. "He saw Margaret go through a similar procedure at the beginning of her treatment. That was quite enough for him. I wish they were done by now myself."

"They're almost done," Megan assured him. She looked up at Colby. "We hope to be able to pinpoint where Don and the others were infected using his case files. According to Dr. Ma, they could have been exposed any time from a week to five weeks ago, but more likely sometime during the last 10 days. Don's already showing the latent symptoms of the first phase of the disease."

"Well." Colby let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. "Considering how rare HPS is, having four cases of it should make it easier to find the source of the outbreak."

"I hope so," Megan said. "Although Don and Véronique have been pretty much attached at the hip for the last few weeks, we don't know yet all the connections between them, the man in New York, and the dead woman they found in Montreal."

"One person died already?" Alan asked, somewhat alarmed.

"I'm afraid so," Megan confirmed. "Her body was found in a vacant field near the Saint Lawrence River, four days ago. The virus was not the cause of death, however. She had been shot before her body was dumped by the River. She was infected before Don and Véronique came in contact with her body – and apparently, so were they."

"How's Véronique?" Alan inquired, solemnly.

"Critical. She developed the symptoms more rapidly than Don did. She's already in the second phase of the disease. Her partner, Pierre-André, is the one who quickly linked her symptoms with the pathologist findings for their dead victim. That's what motivated them to run more specific tests on Véronique. He alerted us once he failed to reach Don."

Alan shook his head. "He would have been tested sooner if he'd gone to Montreal as he was suppose to. Instead, Don came home and turned his cell phone off for more then a day."

"At least he came home," Megan said. "To be with you and Charlie."

Don's father nodded, recalling his Son's visceral need to be with his family as he was starting a fight for his life.

"Have you ever met, Véronique?" Colby asked him.

"I have, twice," he replied. "She first came to L.A. a few weeks before Margaret passed on. She then came back for her funeral. It meant a lot to Don."

Colby nodded. "She's very kind like that," He was not surprised to learn that Véronique had stood by her friend during that difficult time.

"She's also very funny," Megan added. "She seems to enjoy giving Don a run for his money."

Colby chuckled, remembering the energetic and pleasant Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer, correcting Don on his broken French. In turn, he was always very quick at pointing out that she could not pronounce her "th". It was hilarious every time.

"They're very good friends," Megan said. "You could even think that she's the sister Don never had."

"Well, then," Alan sighed, sadly. "Don't let me lose two children at once."

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TBC…

AN: Is there enough drama, anguish, and H/C in there for you? Myself, I almost wish I could go on a ventilator, too. Keep breathing, Isa, and keep writing.

Thanks for reading!

May 2006.