Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated with any other person, real or imagined.
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"Melinda, it's Gordon. I'm just calling to tell you that I'll be filing our papers to contest on Friday."
"Any problems?"
"No. You are aware, of course, that the judge will be asking your son several questions?"
"Yes?"
"Well, we might be knowledgeable of your relationship with him, but in court it might be embarrassing if he refers to you as 'mommy'."
"I've already thought of that."
"You need to take care of the problem before court."
"Obviously. And the Eppes are sure to talk Donny into naming Dr. Wang as his doctor, not me?"
"We can be fairly certain that they will try."
"I don't like things that aren't more than 'fairly certain'. Pause. "I think I need to pay a visit to my son."
"And pray tell, Melinda, how do you plan to do that?"
"You underestimate me, Gordon, and my resources…"
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"I don't understand, Charlie. What could be so important you have to go now?"
Alan was locking the seatbelt around Don in the front seat of his car. Charlie dropped a pile of catalogues on the floor of the back seat along with the bags he had been carrying. He had run and gotten the items from Jim when Don was finished getting dressed. After shutting the door, he squeezed past his father and crouched, looking a frightened Don squarely in the eyes. "I promise I'll be home as soon as I can. Do you understand?" Satisfied with the yes he received from his brother, Charlie poked the button that locked the door and then climbed to his feet to face Alan. "I don't have time to explain. But it's important. You'll have to trust me." Charlie looked at the other's appearance. "Do you think you'll be alright without me?" He was taking stock of his father: drooping eyes, sagging shoulders, and slow movements.
"It's a short ride home and I'm a grown man. I think I can handle it." Guilty about leaving his tired family, Charlie hesitated, tossing the keys to the car from one hand to the other. Alan snatched them and waved his youngest on. "Really, Charlie. We'll be okay. You know, I do have some experience taking care of my son."
"I never said you couldn't take care of Don," Charlie defended himself. "You look like you're about to fall asleep and I didn't know if you could"- Alan frowned, so Charlie corrected himself, "would want to handle him all on your own."
"I appreciate your concern, but if you have business to take care of, this is a good time to do it. I think Don is too worn out to do anything else, and is probably full enough from his late lunch that he won't want to eat. So shoo, go," Alan flapped his hands at Charlie, who decided that his father was right- it was a good time to go. By the next day, there might not be any time available for him to go to the bank. At least, not for several days. And Charlie did not want to wait that long. So he told his father good-bye, waved once to Don and sprinted across the parking lot, checking his watch; the bank was right up the street and he should just be able to make it before it closed. Don's eyes had already begun to slip shut when Alan closed the car door with a clang. Bolting up, Don saw Charlie's form disappearing around the corner of the institute. He began fingering his left ear, his anxiety increasing with the loss of Charlie's steadying presence. Once more, he dropped his hand and rubbed the chalk in his pocket and fingered his chart of stars. The actions were comforting enough to enable him to close his eyes and fall into a shallow sleep.
Alan was about to slide into the driver's seat when his cell phone rang. Leaning against the car, he opened up the phone anddrowsily barked, "What is it?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Eppes. You forgot Don's eating tools. Could you meet me at the back door to the institute- it will only take a minute?"
"I'm sorry, Olivia. I didn't mean to yell at you. It has been a very trying day, and quite frankly, I'm exhausted."
"Don't worry about it. The first consultations are always exhausting. Personally, if I were in your position, I would have started screaming about two hours ago."
"Thanks for understanding." Alan looked at the back exit of the institute. It was located across the parking lot and situated parallel to his car. If he looked over his shoulder while he walked, he would be able to see through his window across the front seat to Don, who now appeared to be thoroughly asleep. Alan checked the parking lot for large blue cars, wanting to be sure Thompson wasn't in the area. He noted the lot was almost empty. The few cars that were left were parked one or two spaces down from his own. He checked those and the cars he could see sitting on the curb along the street; thinking Thompson might have changed her transportation, he squinted to see if they had any occupants, but he did not see anyone inside. "Okay, I'll meet you at the exit." After shutting his door and pulling on the handle to make sure it was locked, Alan strode away from his sleeping son, glancing back once or twice to make sure he was okay.
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"I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. I guess I could have brought this to you." Olivia was holding the exit door open, leaning against the door jamb.
"That's okay. I shouldn't have forgotten it."
Olivia handed Alan the package, but he dropped it during transition. The contents of the bag spilled inside the open door. Sighing, Alan stepped forward and bent over to pick up Don's feeding tools, Olivia letting the glass door shut behind him. He began to think he shouldn't have insisted to Charlie that he would be able to get Don home, the weariness of the day suddenly settling into him.
"I'm sorry," Alan said, tossing another piece of equipment into the bag Olivia had snagged and was now holding open.
"You don't have to keep apologizing."
"Yes, I do. I can't use Donny's condition as an excuse for yelling at people."
"Maybe not. But you don't have to say an apology for dropping a bag because you're too tired to hold it."
Alan took the proffered bag from Olivia. "Have I told you how glad I am that you're working with Donny?"
"No. That's another thing you don't have to say- I believe it's obvious."
When he stepped out the door, Alan briefly glanced at his car. Don's vague form was not moving, and Alan assumed he was still sleeping. As he thanked the speech therapist, his phone rang. "Excuse me, Olivia," he said, clumsily clicking his phone open.
"Bye," she whispered, shutting the door.
"Alan, Harvey here."
"I hope you're calling with some more good news, Harvey. I don't think I have the energy to hear anything negative right now."
Fatigue beginning to overcome him, Alan almost dropped his phone; to retain his grip, he shifted the package he was holding to his right hand, leaning his shoulder against the building for balance. Reoriented, he was about to start walking back to his car when Harvey blurted, "It's about that woman who kidnapped your son, Alan. I think she was responsible for our early hearing date."
Alan sagged against the wall, his right shoulder bearing his weight.
"How could you possibly know that?"
"I don't know for sure. But I made a phone call to the judge who changed our date and he was very evasive when I brought up Thompson. Call it a feeling or intuition, but I think that woman is up to something."
Accidentally dropping his package to the ground, Alan rubbed his eyes with his free hand, lightning clashing behind his eyelids from the building storm of a headache.
"Why," he moaned. "Why would she want us to have an early hearing date? It doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't seem to. That's what has me concerned. If you are granted permanent conservatorship of Don's person, then, most likely, she'll never be able to take him anywhere without your consent. That seems adverse to her previous motives of wanting possession of your son. However, there is a legal reason for wanting the hearing. She couldn't contest the temporary papers you were given- she's only allowed to do that with the permanent ones."
"Could we change the hearing to a later date?" Alan opened his eyes, but the glare of the setting sun reflecting off the institute's windows created more sparks, so he shut them again.
"No point in doing that. We might as well go ahead with our petition, because the papers you currently hold will dissolve in three weeks. If we don't try now, you might end up with a hearing date long after the temporary ones expire and we will essentially be starting from scratch."
"No, no. I don't want to start all over. But can you give me some time to think it about it. If we go Monday, then it's like we're playing her game. Don has been listening to Charlie. If he continues to do what he says, I'm not sure it is necessary for us to pursue permanent conservatorship."
"I'll leave that decision up to you, Alan. Let me know by Thursday at the latest. I want to be prepared in either case. However, my professional opinion is that we should take advantage of the date and pursue it."
"I appreciate that, Harvey. Let me and Charlie discuss it, and I'll get back to you- tomorrow. Uh, Harvey, is there any chance they would...?" Alan paused, the words stuck in his stomach, churning acid. "Is there any chance they would give Donny to her?"
"Don't talk crazy, Alan. The law has a clear and stable list that they follow when determining who should be conservator of a person and his or her estate. And if Dr. Thompson were even on it, she would be the last person listed."
"Are you telling me that the court has to make the parent the conservator?" Alan's stomach was beginning to experience some relief.
"Not exactly. The first person on the list is spouse. Don isn't married, so that one's out. Then we have adult child, and no one qualifies for that title, either. Third is parent, and that means you. So, in your case, yes, unless there is any serious reason to the contrary, the judge is obligated to name you conservator."
"That"s good news, Harvey. But I still don't understand why she would contest our petition if she can't be named conservator herself."
Harvey was silent a full three minutes before he finally answered. "Her goal might simply be to get him away from your protective care. This is hard to ask, Alan, but in order for me to do my job to the best of my ability, I'll have to."
"Go ahead, Harvey. Ask anything." The stomach acid had resolved itself, but relief from his headache was slow going.
"Is it possible for her to prove some kind of abuse? I read Dr. Wang's reports, and there were obvious signs that Don had"-
Alan pulled away from the building, anger clouding his vision. "Not any she could prove from me or Charlie, if that's what you're implying."
"I'm sorry, Alan. Please understand- I had to ask so I'd be prepared for the eventuality of her using it as a reason to contest."
"I guess that's what I pay you for." Alan found himself apologizing once again. "Since she has no basis for abuse charges, does that mean I'll get permanent conservatorship?" He had to be sure before they made the decision as to whether or not they should keep the hearing date.
"Again, I'd have to say yes. I don't see any problems, but if I find out anything new, I'll give you a call. Look, don't worry. Like you said, that's what you pay me for."
"Thanks, Harvey." With his lawyer's assurances, Alan's headache was fading at last, pain no longer flashing across his eyes. He looked for the package he'd dropped on the ground and bent over tiredly to pick it up. When he straightened, he noticed that the sun was beginning the final leg of its descent, the night racing shadows across the parking lot and into the interior of his car. As he thought about his phone conversation with his lawyer, Alan began to approach his car. He was a hundred feet away from it when he saw what he first thought was a last burst of light from the sun on the other side of his car, but then the interior of his car was bathed in what he now realized was an artificial light, and he could see that there had only been shadows within. The solid shape of his son's body was nowhere to be seen.
Alan's heart began to beat rapidly.
He raced to his car and peered disbelievingly into the driver's side window.
And then across the front seat and through the glass of the passenger window.
To a car that sat hidden on the other side of his own.
At a man who was dropping into the driver's seat, pulling his door shut and throwing his car into gear.
But who took the time to look at Alan and grin.
A big, mocking grin.
And then the car began to pull away.
Alan sped around his car, reaching for the stranger.
Because the last thing he'd seen after the door shut was the silhouette of his son.
Who sat beside the stranger, calmly sucking his thumb.