Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or any of its characters.

Author's note: I got notice that Don is 35. I thought 37. Is there a consensus? Thanks.

Nine and half weeks earlier

Sitting on a black iron bench, she watched him from the corner edge of the park. He was standing with a younger man, both of them laughing and eating fudgcicles, the frozen chocolate treat dripping on their hands in the hot summer sun. She saw him grab a handkerchief from his pocket- so gentlemanly, so old-fashioned- and wipe his hand; then he offered it to the other man, who shook his head and cleaned his fingers and knuckles with quick licks of his tongue.

How vulgar, she thought.

The casual interplay between the two men was completely lost on her. She only saw the differences that confirmed in her mind that they could not possibly be related.

One was tall with straight-cut hair, a suit and tie combined with expensive leather shoes that reflected the afternoon sun from the shine that had been so well-rubbed into them. His back and limbs were held stiff even when bending to place his trash in a can nearby, his posture serious and well-controlled. Though his large hands looked battle-worn, the nails were trimmed and immaculate, the sure signs of a professional manicure. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes- preventing others from seeing into them, preventing others from seeing what he thought- a small barricade cutting him off from the rest of the world.

When he sat with his companion on the bench next to hers, his body was still as he sat straight up with his right leg crossed over his left, both hands clasped in his lap.

His companion was almost a polar opposite. When he finished his treat, he jumped in the air, twisting his shorter and gangly body as he shot his trash into the can like a player trying to shoot a basket. His red t-shirt rode up from the faded and torn jeans that hugged his hips, the unbuttoned shirt he wore over it flapping behind him. The long curls that hung around his face never ceased to move as he bobbed his head about, every inch of his body seeming to be in perpetual motion of one kind or another. When he finally sat down, he was sitting yoga style on the bench, waving slim hands with dried chocolate streaking through the feathery layer of chalk dust that coated them. His feet were clad in broken gym shoes that tapped the bench in some unknown rhythm. Leaning back, his arms thrown across the back of the bench, he was open to the world around him.

Definitely not related, she thought.

Casually moving closer to the two men as they continued to talk, she acted like she was trying to feed a couple birds that sat on the ground near the end of the bench. By angling her head just so, she was able to overhear their conversation.

"Dad's going with me, can you believe it? This whole weekend just me and him. He thinks it'll be some kind of bonding thing between us- like living with me isn't bonding enough."

Laughter.

"C'mon, you can humor him. You know I'd have joined you, but I've got all this paperwork to do. My suspicion is I'll get more done holed up at my apartment than holed up with you two."

Pause.

"Besides, 'bonding' with dad will be more fun than sulking in your hotel room 'cause Amita and Larry had to stay here to work."

Silence.

"Charlie- is there something wrong- what'd I say?"

"Nothing really, Don, it's just- I'm not sure if Amita really has work to do or she just didn't want to come with me.."

Light laughter.

"Charlie- don't worry about it. If she could have gone but didn't want to, she'd have said so. She hasn't made up excuses before- as a matter of fact, I think she has been more than forthcoming."

Silence.

"Yeah, I know you're right- I just can't seem to shake this feeling-"

"I'm always right- and forget the feeling. You'd just rather be going to Diego with a hot, flashy brunette than a brunette that's old enough to have hot flashes."

Laughter.

"Man, Dad would kill you if he thought you were implying he was going through menopause or something."

"Yeah- well, only if his memory held out long enough to remember what I said."

Major laughing.

"You know, Don, you always have a way of making my mood change for the better, even when the situation itself hasn't changed."

"Someone's gotta look out for you, bro, and I guess that someone's gotta be me."

She watched from the corner of her eye as the two men stood up, the taller one putting his hand on the back of the smaller one, leading him out of the park as they continued to talk.

Clicking the rings on her left hand together, she counted two good things that were going to coincide this weekend: his pseudo-family would be gone all weekend, and he was finally going to be away from work. This weekend would have to be it then. And she was actually ready- everything she needed was at the house, all her preparations finally good to go.

She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised that everything was coming together so well. There was no relationship more natural than that between mother and son, and it was natural that the necessary events would coincide so that she could re-establish that relationship. Like the sun and the moon, she felt she and her son had been orbiting around each other for two years now, each following a different course. Now, as everything was falling into place, she felt that they were finally traveling the same trajectory, a path that would end with them as aligned as the sun and the moon when those heavenly bodies spectacularly overtook one another in an eclipse. The thought of the climax of their meeting left her awestruck, as she was overwhelmed with the need to be with her son.

She had waited so long.

She left the park, making plans.

Many plans.

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Special Agent Don Eppes hung up his office phone. It was just past 9:00 on a Friday night, the bullpen hushed as only a few agents continued to work. His father and Charlie had called to let him know they had arrived in San Diego safely. Somehow, he knew they were really checking up on him. Shaking his head at their obvious concern for him, Don had informed them he was about to leave the office and enjoy crashing into bed for as long as he could, the next two days off being a windfall for him. Well, other than the paperwork; but, surprisingly, he was almost done with that.

After his reassuring talk with his family, Don moved his neck in a small circle, placing his right hand at the base of his neck, trying to push and move the kinks that had stiffened him. He leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply a few minutes while rubbing his eyes. Feeling a little refreshed, he gathered the few remaining files he had stacked on his desk, preparing to take them back to his apartment to finish. The baseball game would still be on when he got home, so he might be in time to see a couple good plays. With this in mind, he threw on his suit jacket and left quickly for the elevator.

Once in his SUV, Don began running down a to-do list in his head as he drove through the thick traffic that kept him from getting to his apartment in a decent amount of time. It was his late arrival at his apartment that kept him from being as careful as he usually was- that, coupled with the weariness that weighted his body as he got out of his SUV and started for the apartment complex door.

"Excuse me, sir" a woman's voice called across the parking lot to him.

Don turned to see a woman about six inches shorter than him standing near a parked car, three spaces down from his SUV. He could barely make out her features, as the light over her parking spot was not working.

"Yes?" he inquired, turning the folders in his hands over, and then placing them under his right arm.

The woman took a step forward, hunching her shoulders while her hands stayed hidden in her pockets.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to change a flat tire? I know I sound cliché, but my generation of women didn't grow up learning to do these things- and, well, they say it'll be a couple hours for the tow truck- I just hate waiting here by myself."

Don looked around, his FBI training sniffing about for signs of an ambush. He did not see anyone hiding around the lady's car, nor within the cars on either side of her. He placed the files he held in his hand back into his SUV, taking off his jacket and lying it across them as he began rolling up his sleeves. He left the door unlocked so he could quickly grab them when he finished. Then, he walked slowly toward the car.

His cautious approach to the car was a result of his trained FBI instinct; the fact that he approached to help at all was the result of his natural Boy Scout inclination.

"Thank you so much," she smiled at Don. He got the impression she was at least middle-aged by how still she held herself; she didn't waste any energy moving about, as if it pained her to move. Her features were hidden in shadow, but he could make out long black (brown?) hair that flowed past her shoulders.

"No, problem- is the spare in your trunk?"

"Yes, it is."

As the woman appeared to be shivering, Don hesitated a moment. He wondered what she was nervous about- again, he looked around. Not finding any sign of movement, he placed his cautiousness to the side, realizing she did not know him and might actually be afraid of him. He followed as she lead him to the trunk of her car, his mind on the baseball game he was missing, wanting her to hurry up so he could get up to his apartment and just flop down on the couch, a cool beer in his hand.

Don was standing behind her as she opened up the trunk with her key, and then she moved aside to allow him access. He looked about the trunk, but the only thing that appeared to be inside was a blanket thrown open at the bottom. Don leaned over to see if the spare was tucked under the back edge of the trunk- man, this trunk is almost as big as my backseat- when he became aware of a sharp buzzing feeling that emanated from his back and worked its way throughout his body, his limbs suddenly limp at his side, the shock of steel causing echoes of pain to reverberate off him when he fell, a loud clang sounding overhead.

As he landed, bright sunspots splashed across his vision in quick outbursts-

and then-

eclipse.