Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or any character therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated with any other person, real or imagined.

Author's note: I have finals this week, so the next chapters won't be till this weekend. Sorry for the delay- I thought this was a good stopping point, as the next chapters get into the specifics of Don's rehab, some more of the criminal investigation, and, of course, Melinda's plan. I have had some time trying to coordinate this, and hope in the end it comes together correctly.

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The phone calls started about 7:00 am. Monday morning. Friends and family all calling to find out how Don's first days home had gone, after politely leaving the Eppes alone on the weekend, but not so politely calling so early in the morning. Alan was fielding the well-wishes as they poured in, quickly clicking from one call to the next as call-waiting signaled another person wanting to know if Don was doing alright. Charlie sat down at the dining room table, bemusedly listening to Alan defend himself to the latest caller-Aunt Irene.

"Yes, I have been taking good care of him." He listened, nodding his head, "Of course, we'll make sure he eats right; he's been on a special diet, and- and….No, I'm not letting him go back to work. He's on extended leave; his condition is more complicated than what we originally thought. Yes, of course, he has an appointment this morning." Alan quietly sighed to Charlie. "Yes, Irene, as soon as he's better, we'll make sure to bring him by. Thanks for the offer- I don't think we need anything right now, but I might take you up on it later. Bye."

Alan hung up the phone, this time sighing loudly to Charlie.

"Well, hopefully that's the last of them for now."

"You didn't give Aunt Irene too many details about Don."

"When the Bureau first found him and everyone wanted to visit, I made my explanations then; any other information about his condition we'll let Donny tell them later, if that's what he wants. They're just overexcited because we finally got him back, and want to see him."

"I was the same way- when I think of the celebration I wanted to have…" Charlie shook his head.

"Hey, I think we'll still have that special dinner- some day. By the way, Larry called. He wanted you to know he found professors for all your classes this semester and next, if you need the time. The university sure seems to be going overboard for you, young man."

"It was that, or I threatened to offer my resignation. With the new alteration I made to the Eppes Convergence finally appearing in publication next month, and the free advertisement for the university that comes with it, they aren't about to let me go."

"You play dirty, Charlie." Alan smiled approvingly. "So, Donny is all dressed and ready to go?"

"Yes, I didn't have any difficulty with the bath or dressing him. However, it is not the easiest thing to shave another man; hats off to barbers everywhere."

"Well, I am quite skilled in that particular craft. We'll just have me do it from now on- as long as you'll keep giving him a bath."

Charlie's tone turned serious, as he remembered washing his brother. "I'm glad Don has to use bubble bath," Charlie observed quietly. "It made the water milky, so it was hard to see all those scars on his legs. It was difficult enough to look at them when I helped him get dressed- I don't like to think about how he got them."

Alan didn't like to think about that part of Don's kidnapping, either. He knew Dr. Thompson had explained them away, but he had never asked Megan how. He knew it would make him furious to hear what he was sure were paltry excuses for letting rats eat away at his son; instead, he assumed the worst from the evidence in the medical reports, believing she had purposely planned the deed, and allowed himself the benefit of another reason to hate the woman who had stolen his son. Alan walked to the dining room doorway, staring across the room at Don, thankful he had not had any nightmares since coming home, the nightly sedatives appearing to have done their job. Don sat sadly on the couch sucking his thumb and petting Buddy. "Does he understand where we are going?"

"I explained it again. He keeps saying he's hungry, though; can't we give him just a little…"

"No," Alan cut him off, ignoring his own desire to weaken and give in to Don's whining. "The test has to be on an empty stomach- no liquids, no solids. You should know better than to ask, Charlie."

"I know, I know," Charlie replied, slightly exasperated with himself. "He just looks like he's going to cry every time I say 'no'."

"In case you haven't noticed, he cries over just about everything."

"Yes, I have noticed," Charlie said defensively, "And I also understand it is a symptom of his anxiety, and because his emotional control unit has short-circuited, and it's a result of whatever the hell that woman did to him. It doesn't make it any easier for me to see him do it."

Alan went to Charlie and put his arm around his shoulder. "I know- I feel the same way. But we're going to have to tough it out. Otherwise, we'll never be able to do what's best for Donny."

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Don was scared again. The previous night, he had felt happier and safer than he had in a long time. After reading books, they had all watched baseball on television and finished putting his train together, Don watching intently while his brother and father had done the actual work. Over the evening, Don had felt more and more like he was where he was supposed to be and he would never leave. That is, until Charlie had explained to him before bedtime that he had to go back to the doctor in order to take a test and see two 'therapists'; they were going to help him learn to be like Charlie and Daddy- like a man. But Don remembered the last time he had tried to be a 'big boy' and how he had failed. He knew they would not punish him, but they would know for sure how bad he was at doing everything; Don didn't know why, but he knew he would feel terrible if he disappointed Charlie and Daddy.

Upon awakening that morning, Don's small anxiety had begun to blossom into more than concern that he might disappoint his family. Though Don had believed Charlie the night before when he had told him that he would always want to be with him, Don's mind was unable to separate the limited doctor's visit Charlie had described from his previous experience of being left for extended time at the institution by his mommy. His mind began overlapping what had occurred previously with what he had been told was going to occur, so that he could hardly distinguish the two. It was understandable, as the parallels were obvious: when he went to the doctor the first time, Mommy had told him that he was going there and explained why- just like Charlie; she had told him she loved him and would take care of him- just like Charlie; and she had promised she would come get him, only she never did.

And though Don now had a strong belief that Charlie loved him and wanted to take care of him, he continued to have a strong belief that Mommy loved him- yet she had left him and never come back. Don had learned to trust in his brother, but his mother's abandonment prevented him from learning to trust in his own worthiness to be loved, so it was simple for him to be scared that Charlie and Daddy would leave him at the doctor, too. Despite his underlying faith in Charlie, Don's confused mind began to identify a doctor's visit as the precursor to abandonment, and his newfound desire to be with his family made the prospect of leaving the house too stressful for his uncontrollable emotions. Don twisted Buddy's ear each time he thought about it, deciding he did not want to go to the doctor; he wanted to stay right where he was, so he would not have to risk losing his new family and home.

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Alan packed three bottles in a cooler; Don would be starting his diuretic that evening, so the plan was for them to be his last. Alan was only going to give him these three because of practical reasons. Don would be at the institute for the entire morning and early afternoon; he would be hungry after his test, and there would be little time in-between it and his next two appointments with the occupational and speech therapists. Alan knew he could quickly feed Don with the bottles for lunch, and then start him on solid food at dinnertime, when the change in routine would be less stressful for Don and the food could be properly prepared, as Alan anticipated it would not be what he was used to cooking.

Grabbing Don's binder, Alan went to get him while Charlie finished a call to Megan up in the privacy of Don's bedroom. Charlie had retrieved the ominous belt from the closet and was letting Megan know of his discovery that it was the instrument of Don's abuse; while Don had slept the previous night, he had given the same explanation to his father, who had expressed the desire to use it himself- on Thompson. Continuing his conversation with Megan, Charlie told her where he would place the belt before leaving the house, and emphasized to her if she could not come pick it up after all, someone needed to get it before they came home from the doctor. Don did not need to see it had been removed from the closet, as he might think someone planned to use it on him again. Megan agreed, telling Charlie it was her shift to watch their house and she was actually observing from down the street; she would wait to see when they left before retrieving the evidence, to avoid being seen by Don. They agreed that if no one else could discern the pattern of the belt in the vague pictures of Don's back, Charlie would come in later that week to show the team what he had been able to see. They further discussed Charlie's research into traumatic brain injury, and the algorithm he was working on to pinpoint what might have caused Don's injury; Megan enthusiastically affirmed that knowing what to look for would help them in their search for evidence against Dr. Thompson.

Downstairs, Alan cautiously approached Don. "Are you ready to go, Donny?" he asked quietly, standing directly in front of him.

Don looked down at the ground, gave a slight turn to Buddy's ear, and shook his head 'no.'

"Are you that scared, Donny?"

He nodded his head 'yes' slowly in response.

"Charlie and I will be with you the whole time. You can hold one of our hands, and we'll take it slow, so you know everything the doctor is going to do."

Don shook his head again. "You don't want me."

"What? Why would you say that, Donny? Of course I want you." Alan sat down next to Don, attempting to put his arms around him; but Don moved away and lay on his side, covering his face with Buddy while he started to cry.

"Don't want to go."

Charlie hopped into the room, satisfied with his call to Megan, his mood quickly changing to one of serious concern when he saw Don's position on the couch. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Alan told him, getting up from the couch and stepping aside to let Charlie talk to his brother, lowering his voice when he continued. "He said we don't want him. I think he believes we're taking him back to the institute for good."

"That makes sense," Charlie quietly replied, "considering it's what happened the last time he went there."

Leaning over Don, Charlie lifted up Buddy from his face. Charlie bit his lip when he saw the big tears soaking Don's face; it did not matter how many times he saw Don crying, Charlie knew it would always hurt him like a fresh cut in his soul each time he saw his brother expressing himself so despondently. "What's wrong, Don?"

Don shut his eyes in an attempt to hide, telling Charlie, "You don't want me."

"I want you to stay here with me, Don. But I also want you to get better. The only way that can happen is if you see the doctor. You want to do all the things you see me and Dad do, don't you?"

"I can't," Don informed Charlie. "No good."

Charlie began what was now a routine of massaging Don's shoulder and back. "Yes- you can, Don. You just forgot how to do them. Dad and I are going to learn how to teach you so you can remember. And eventually, you'll be as good at doing them as we are."

"No, I won't." Don was adamant.

"Yes, you will," Charlie was even more adamant. "Don, you don't remember, but a lot of the things I'm doing for you now, you taught me to do." Don opened his eyes in disbelief at Charlie. "It's true. Before you needed a doctor, when we were little, you tied my shoes, and put on my clothes, and helped me eat and… you protected me so no one could hurt me."

Don tried to believe what Charlie said was true- it was just too hard. He could not imagine he could have ever done those things for Charlie, especially when he could not do them for himself. Mommy said he was a little boy and he needed to be taken care of; everything Don knew about himself told him this was true. And protecting Charlie- how could he have done that, when he was always afraid and he needed Charlie to protect him? If Charlie expected him to be able to do all those things at the doctor's, then maybe he would leave him there when he saw that he couldn't.

"Don't leave me," Don told Charlie, crying even harder.

"Shhhh. Please don't cry, Don. I won't leave you. I promise." Charlie was lost, not knowing what to say next. He knew that he and Don had bonded the night before, but he also knew his brother was not thinking clearly; it was apparent that Don did not understand the difference between this limited visit to the doctor and the last time he had been institutionalized. Charlie believed he just needed to find the right words, and Don would remember he trusted him- but Charlie was having trouble with that task. He found it distressing that Don was going through such an adverse emotional change from the night before, when he had been so happy and content; now, he was at the other end of the spectrum, miserable and afraid. Don's conversion from one emotional extreme to the other was taking its toll on Charlie, because his own mood was a reflection of whichever one he detected in his brother; the sudden shift was making him tired and deflated, and made it difficult for him to think.

Running a hand down his face, Charlie stopped midway, his fingers resting on his mouth. He again observed how Don clung to Buddy, the toy providing him physical comfort for his emotional turmoil and confusion; Charlie wondered if he could give Don some other tangible reassurance to cling to, something he could physically touch like Buddy, so it would continually remind him that Charlie would never leave him anywhere. "Don, what if I gave you something that is special to me, like Buddy is special to you? You'd never leave Buddy at the doctor's, would you?"

Don shook his head.

"What if I gave you something too special for me to forget or leave behind at the doctor's? Something I could never do without. You could hold it the entire time. That way, I couldn't leave you at the doctor, because I would be leaving it, too."

Don's crying slowed as he thought about Charlie's offer. He looked at Buddy, knowing that it was true- he would never leave him anywhere. Don decided that Charlie's idea was a good one. "Okay," he agreed, his tears starting to slowly dissipate and his anxiety to recede.

"Now," Charlie rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think what to give Don. "What do you think is so important to me I'd never leave it anywhere?"

It was Don's turn to think. He sat up on the couch and wiped at his tears with the palms of his hands. Looking at Charlie, different images flashed in Don's mind, whisking in like tattered shreds of faded film and blowing back out again: Charlie in an office, surrounding by white boards and computers; Charlie outside a building, writing on a clipboard; Charlie in a car, typing on a laptop; Charlie at the dinner table, talking with his hands waving through the air; Charlie kneeling outside, staring into a pond with fish; and Charlie in a room with blackboards hung all over its walls, grasping piece after piece of chalk in his hands, writing numbers…

"Chalk." Don whispered.

"Chalk?" Charlie looked at his father. Alan smiled, crossing his arms and saying, "I'm not surprised he made that association with you."

"Chalk." Scratching his head, Charlie turned back to Don. "Chalk is useful to me. I need my chalk to write all of my numbers. And I would never leave it anywhere. So, I agree that it is very special to me, just like you are, Don. I'll go get it for you." He jogged to the garage, coming back to the living room with three broken pieces of chalk held out in his hands. "Stand up," he directed Don, "and I'll put it in your front pocket." Don did as he was told, not taking his eyes off Charlie's hand while he slid the three pieces of chalk into his front jeans pocket.

When they walked towards the front door, finally leaving for the doctor, Don let Charlie hold his right hand, while he pressed his left one against the hard bumps under the fabric of his jeans pocket, rubbing his palm over them back and forth to make sure they were really there. He felt more secure about seeing the doctor with the chalk in his pocket. When he did everything badly, and his family saw how worthless he was, at least Charlie would have to take him home if he wanted his chalk back. Don was confident Charlie would continue to want it, because, unlike himself, it was useful to him.

Charlie would be disappointed, though, Don thought sadly, because if holding the chalk meant he would never get left behind and could always stay with Charlie and his daddy, then, Don had decided, he was never going to let it go.