Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. Any character in this story is fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Five black vans slammed their brakes and curled to the side with a jarring halt, encircling the home of Dr. Melinda Thompson.

Three vehicles in front, two in back- a cascade of agents flowing out, forming an encampment around her front and back doors, a scattering of black-clad men sliding down the sides of her home to peer in non-barricaded windows.

"Got a sighting- a lone woman sitting on a couch in the living room."

"Any view of Eppes?

"Negative."

"If Thompson is in the living room, he is probably the body in the bedroom. No windows."

"Okay- let's hit the front door and"-

"Wait- Thompson's on the move."

"Location- now!"

"Appears to be heading toward the front door- be ready!"

The entry team moved aside, carrying their battering ram with them. Megan stood to the left side of the front door with her weapon drawn, David and Colby on the other side. A team of S.W.A.T. agents had spread out behind the vans in front, their sniper rifles poised and aimed, as the front door slowly swung open, revealing the amused smile of Dr. Thompson-

"I do have a doorbell, you know."

Megan blinked twice in succession, her body giving a harsh jerk in surprise.

This woman is something else.

Recovering quickly, Megan pointed her gun directly at Thompson's head-

"Put your hands on your head and turn around- NOW!"

Thompson did as she was told, making sure her body spoke the language of meekness and subordination.

Putting her weapon back in its holster, Megan spoke into her mike- "Hold off on entrance" - and pulled her handcuffs out, drew Thompson's hands down one by one, and locked them behind the psychiatrist's back.

"Dr. Melinda Thompson, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and confinement of Special Agent Donald Adam Eppes, an officer of the government of the United States, as pertains to Title 18 of the U.S. Code."

Megan read the psychiatrist her Miranda Rights, handed her over to an officer ready at her side, and began to enter the house with her partners right behind her, tilting her head to speak into her mike the orders to begin entry again.

That's when Thompson began to rapidly speak, shouting across to Megan, refusing to be lead away-

"You'll scare him- he's not used to strangers."

Megan hesitated.

"Donny's in his bedroom- I left his door unlocked. He's all prepared and ready to go, except- if you all go barging in like that, he'll become anxious and upset. Please- you don't want to frighten him?"

"Reeves," the S.W.A.T. commander was talking in her ear, "You've stopped the operation- what's going on?"

In less than thirty seconds, Megan ran every aspect of the situation through her mind and came to a decision-

"Continue entry; but do not- I repeat- do not access bedroom with Eppes. Point team will take the lead on that."

Megan, David, and Colby entered the home as Thompson was taken to the nearest waiting van. Simultaneously, the back door of the home flew open and agents scurried over the house, shouting "All Clear!" as they went from room to room, and into the basement and garage, avoiding the first bedroom off the living room.

"Except for that designated bedroom- we have an all-clear on the house."

"Okay- we're going to see about Eppes. Bring the ambulance out front- have it ready to go."

Putting away their weapons, Don's team members approached his bedroom door. Melinda had not lied- when Megan tried the knob, it turned without resistance in her hand. Mindful of Thompson's warning- and Bob's previous observation of Don's fear- she entered slowly and quietly, peering around the edge of the door, taking in the setup of the room, looking for Don.

She could not help but gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth so as not to make any other sudden noises.

What the hell?

Pushing the door all the way open, she tried to understand- is this the room he's been staying in?

She noted the cartoon characters on the twin bed; she walked softly to the dresser, looked at the dvds- children's movies. Scanning the room in a circle, she noted the toy box and recliner- painted blue for a boy, she thought. She walked over to the bathroom- matching towels to the blankets and sheets on the bed.

Megan could not understand- she had known there must be some reason that Don had been kidnapped, but she had never thought to find a child's bedroom to be the scene of captivity. Somehow, she had imagined it would be a bare room in a basement with a cot and a bowl for water- not this, a comfortable hideaway that indicated caring and love on the part of the decorator. But Thompson had referred to Don as her son when talking to Bob- had allowed him outside to play baseball- did the woman have the delusion that he was a young child? If she did- and he behaved that way- how could it have been possible for such an innocuous, petite woman to be able to turn a strong, intelligent man like Don into that child?

And how badly had he succumbed to her delusion- would it be possible to bring him out of it intact?

The agent's confusion was intensified by the absence of Don- where is he?

Megan walked back out to the bedroom, bending over to look under the bed.

Behind her, Colby voiced her earlier thoughts-

"What the hell is this?"

A rustling sound came from behind the recliner. Megan, David, and Colby all looked at each other, nodding in agreement to remain silent.

Walking on tiptoes, Megan approached the recliner from the left, leaning forward to look over its top. She could just see a mop of black hair and the top of hunched shoulders. Stepping back, she mouthed to her partners- go back out- as she pointed to the bedroom door.

All three exited noiselessly.

Shutting the door, Megan talked into her mike-

"I've found Eppes- appears Thompson may have been telling the truth. He's hiding- apparently from us. Pull the teams back- I'm going to see if I can bring him out to the ambulance."

"Is he armed, Reeves?" This from S.W.A.T.

"Don't know, but he doesn't appear to have a weapon. To be on the safe side, my two team members will continue support outside the bedroom, but everyone else needs to pull out."

"All right- I can agree to that plan. Only, I'm going to keep some men sighted on the house until you can confirm that he is unarmed."

"Affirmative."

Leaving David and Colby in the living room, Megan entered Don's bedroom again, walking straight to the recliner. She crouched down next to it, her weight on one knee. Peering around the side of the chair, she saw two moist, wide-opened eyes staring back at her.

Don was sitting scrunched in the corner behind the recliner, his knees to his chest, his arms squeezing his legs together, chin resting on top. Megan observed that he was shivering, and almost imperceptibly, he was trying to push himself into the wall.

"Hey, Don- remember me?"

No response.

"It's me, Megan."

Again, nothing.

Getting down on both knees, Megan tried to reach for Don, to pet his arm.

That garnered a response- he began shaking, eyes closing as he put his hands over his head, his face pressed into his legs.

Megan stood up, walking away from the recliner. She was disturbed at Don's reaction- he obviously did not recognize her and his fear was indicative of some kind of trauma, but she did not know what that trauma could have been. She hypothesized that he was dependent upon Thompson- typical in cases of Stockholm syndrome, in which the captive identifies with his capturers and begins to trust them when they do not harm or kill him- acts that the captive often fears will be carried out when they are first abducted. As Thompson had kept Don captive over two months- apparently without outside contact- Megan was not surprised at the current predicament; the woman was probably the only person that he trusted. But knowing this did not help her in getting him out to the ambulance- at this juncture, her only option would be to force him, which might aggravate his already unstable state of mind.

Sighing, Megan realized she had no other choice. If she wanted him to go with the minimum of fuss and damage, she'd have to allow Thompson to escort Don to the ambulance.

She left the room, explaining the problem to David and Colby, as well as to the rest of the teams.

Megan met Thompson when she was brought back to the front door of the latter's home, unlocked the cuffs around the psychiatrist's wrists and freed her hands from behind her back.

"Thank you," Thompson smiled, "I would like to make this as easy for him as possible."

Too late for that, Megan thought.

Escorting the psychiatrist to the first bedroom, Megan gave her a quick once-over. She noted the button-down blouse, the jeans, and canvas tennis shoes, slim body, soft facial features- her long black hair held back with a head band.

She's really quite attractive, Megan thought, her files say she's fifty-five, but I'd have guessed mid-to-late forties. Seems perfectly normal- comes across like a suburban wife and P.T.A. member.

The assessment of 'seems perfectly normal' faded once Thompson and Megan entered the bedroom, and the woman began to address Don like a mother would her young child.

"Baby, it's me- come on out," she sang sweetly.

Thompson walked over to the recliner, leaning over as Megan had earlier. The agent scrutinized every move made and every word said- she knew it would be good observational material to use when she made her profile of Thompson later.

Movement could be heard coming from behind the recliner, then Megan watched as Thompson offered a hand to help Don come out of hiding; he came nervously to his feet, his legs wobbly.

As he stood in front of Thompson, Don's eyes slipped to Megan; when she smiled at him, he became stiff and dropped his head to his chest, his arms straight at his side and stock still.

"Now look at how wrinkly you are, baby, and after I made sure to iron so you'd be all nice and neat."

Megan heard Don mumble something, but could not make out his words as he spoke into his shirt.

Thompson pulled his black t-shirt down at the bottom, tugging it here and there, smoothing it over with the palms of her hands, spreading the hem evenly across his matching jeans. She reached up and straightened Don's hair with her fingers, and made him turn around to check his overall appearance. Finally satisfied, she told him-

"Baby- remember I told you we had to go bye-bye today"- Megan winced at the way Thompson was talking to Don, her voice high-pitched and sing-songy- "Well, this lady is here to take you to that someplace special."

Don shook his head slowly back and forth.

"It's okay, baby"- Thompson began calming Don, rubbing his arms and collar bone, lowering her voice and leaning into him; Megan memorized every movement.

She wondered if she was watching a performance for her benefit, if Thompson was trying to portray herself as kind and loving; but Megan knew that simply rubbing Don's arms and talking sweetly to him had not turned him into the quivering person she saw before her- something else had to have been done to him, she just couldn't guess what.

At least- not yet.

Before they could leave, Megan turned her mouth to her mike and sounded an 'all-clear' for the room and a confirmation that Don did not have a weapon.

When Thompson decided he was ready, she gripped Don's right arm and led him from his room, keeping up a litany of soothing words and sounds to keep him moving along with her.

Slowly, patiently, she took him to the waiting ambulance, which had been positioned immediately outside the front door. The entire time, Don refused to look up, focusing his eyes on Thompson's hand, allowing her to take him wherever she wanted to go, avoiding the stares of the agents that surrounded the house, guns pointed to the ground but still at the ready.

Letting everyone see her dominance of him, Megan thought, as she walked beside them.

David and Colby followed behind, wondering about the odd behavior they were witnessing between the two, but not offering any comments except the exchange of puzzled looks.

Once they came to the ambulance, Thompson instructed Don to climb in and sit on the bed. Megan noticed that Don did not lift his left arm- he pulled himself in using only his right hand, even though it appeared a difficult and awkward way of doing so.

Could he have had a stroke- is that what started all of this? she thought.

When a male EMT started toward them, Thompson stopped him, looking at Megan-

"He does better with women- don't you have a female one?"

The paramedic looked at Megan, who just nodded. He went around to the front of the ambulance, and a female attendant appeared in his place.

Stepping inside the ambulance, Thompson and Megan sat on either side of the bed, the psychiatrist facing her former captive.

"Lie down, baby, and let me tuck you in."

Don shook his head, starting to cry. Megan had never seen him cry before, and had to restrain herself from reaching out to comfort him, he looked so forlorn. She was not the person he wanted to comfort him, though, so she sat idly by while she watched as Thompson sat down next to him and began a familiar routine, wrapping him in her arms and whispering in his ears, massaging his shoulders and back, kissing his head; he laid his head over her shoulder, crying and muttering a few indiscernible words.

Megan was torn at the sight- her feelings were a mix of horror at Don's weak behavior and attachment to his kidnapper, and misery for tearing the two apart, as it was so painful for her friend, even though she knew what he was feeling was not emotionally healthy or real, and had been caused by the very woman to whom he clung.

The bitch is good- she hated to admit.

After a few minutes of whispered directions, obediently, Don lay down, closing his eyes and keeping his arms flat at his sides. Thompson pulled the blankets up around him, promising him he would see her soon, kissing him one last time on the cheek, and adding-

"Don't forget to be a good little boy, Donny."

Megan got on her mike, trying not to be sick at this last statement-

"You can take Thompson back into custody. I'm going to ride with Don to the hospital; Sinclair, please act as liaison in my stead, and Granger- contact the Eppes- in person."

Before she left the ambulance, Thompson pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Megan. Glancing at it momentarily, the agent looked up with a quizzical expression on her face.

"It's a list of private institutes," the doctor explained, "I am quite well-known and have a lot of connections. I don't think the general population at county would be good for Donny. And if money's a problem- I have plenty. Just let me know if you need any help."

Megan was stupefied- the woman had to have done something to make the independent and brave man she once knew into the submissive and terrified- child?-she had been observing; now the crazy lady was offering to pay for the therapy that might repair the damage she had done?

Not responding to the offer, when the officer arrived to take Dr. Thompson away, Megan handed the list to him and said to bag it as evidence. With that, the female EMT shut the doors, strapped in Don, and the ambulance began its long trip back to Los Angeles.