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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Colby slowly peeled Caleb's fingers from his arm, sliding her hand between his own and leaning toward her face. "I find it hard to believe a gentle woman like you could have murdered anyone, especially a child."

The older woman bowed her head, repossessed her hand and sat back in her rocker. "Maybe not murder, but I did take a human life, a small, innocent life." She suddenly stood up and walked to the banister at the end of the porch, sitting down on the thick weathered wood and drawing her knees to her chest, her back against the baluster behind her. Caleb stared with haunted eyes to the rear of her house, to her farmed land and the old barn in front of it.

"Right there, in that barn, five lives were changed forever. All because I thought I could do something I had no right to even attempt doing."

The afternoon sun tilted in the sky, encircling Caleb as if in an attempt to further expose her dark secret to the world. Colby couldn't keep his eyes off the woman, her sorrow reaching across the slats of the porch and engulfing him, his heart heavy with empathetic grief.

"As I've said, things were different back then. We didn't think we needed anything that spoke of being modern. The electricity I have now- we didn't have it. Not even running water. Had to pull it up from a well." A thin smile shaped her lips. "It must sound insane to someone who's used to computers and portable stereo players- everything run by some source of energy other than your own body's reserve, but that was what we believed was healthiest for a person- both physically and spiritually."

Colby finally spoke. "In the desert, there were times I had nothing to rely on but my friends and our wits. It was difficult, but for some reason, both were easier to trust than an electronic device that could fail because of a tiny grain of sand. I still believe a good buddy is more sturdy and reliable than any contraption a man can devise."

"Yes, you do understand. We had decided to rely on each other, not modern machines, the tools of the well-known establishment." Caleb continued dreamily. "And it was fine, for what we needed. We had outhouses, far removed from the core of the commune, and, of course, our farm- more of the land was tilled than you see now. People came from all over, camping out in the valley, exchanging ideas- sometimes peacefully, sometimes not. We were one large community of ever-changing citizens, sharing whatever we possessed, whether it was the ability to sing a song, make a stew, or extra clothes for someone to wear- some things legal, some things not."

As the woman spoke, Colby was able to imagine the farm as the commune it once was, flurrying with activities and a cultural group of young people that he had only read about in books and seen in documentaries.

"I'm surprised your neighbors didn't try to run you out."

"They wanted to, but I had help. This wasn't my land, not at first. It belonged to my boyfriend, Alfie; it had been in his family for generations. It was Alfie who was responsible for keeping all of the commune's opposition at bay."

"Pardon me for saying, but the name 'Alfie' doesn't tend to strike fear into many people."

Caleb let a bashful smile slip through. "Alfie was his nickname. It was his idea to plant alfalfa, but he went overboard- we ended up with two acres of the stuff. He used to take me out amongst it and make love to me, slow, sweet love. Then he would braid my hair, poking wildflowers in-between his latticework. He always told me the alfalfa fields were our own private commune."

"No wonder he wanted to defend it," Colby said breathlessly, taken aback by the image of two young people and their love-making amidst the beauty of the valley.

"He didn't get physical with our neighbors, if that is what you're thinking. Alfie's battles were fought in court. His use of the law in defending us always left the opposition off-kilter. They never knew how to respond. It was this skill with legal issues that kept our commune intact, its members exquisitely free to do almost anything as they pleased."

Caleb paused, folding her hands over her lap.

"Then two years into this unbridled wonderland come wealthy Randy Thompson and his wife Melinda. They were such a fine-looking couple, stepping out into the valley as if they were royalty; my parents' generation would have referred to them as 'handsome'. And that term really fit."

Caleb laid quietly against the baluster, as if waiting for the ghosts of the past to reappear. Colby spoke, guiding her to continue. "What interest would a rustic commune have for a spoiled rich kid like Randy?"

"It wasn't unusual for the privileged few to show up at places like our commune. Often they were trying to prove something to the world, to themselves, by trying to live like common people. To them, getting dirty and sweaty was a ritual that made them better than those of their own class. They didn't understand that our purpose was not in making ourselves better, but in making the world better. It was this lack of understanding that made so many of them flee back to the comforts they were accustomed to within days of coming here. But the Thompsons were different; at least, Randy was."

"He wasn't looking to better himself?"

"No. Like your friend, he was a good man- it was innately part of him. You could see that characteristic in him by the respectful and kind way he treated people, especially in the love that he bestowed on his young wife. He chose this commune because he and Alfie knew each other. They had been friends since they were little boys."

"I noticed Randy was fifteen years older than Melinda. With that age difference, he must have been a part of the movement for some time before he met his wife."

"Yes, he had taken a role in it years before they came together. He was involved in the Civil Rights Movement from the mid-fifties, a well-known and respected oratory opponent to voter discrimination, long before it became popular with the upper crust. To many people, he was known simply as Thoreau, his middle name, because of how well he was able to intertwine deep philosophical insights into his speeches. In the late sixties and early seventies, many of the voter registration efforts in California were directly initiated and carried out by him, sometimes funded entirely by his father's pharmaceutical company." Caleb sighed deeply. "Randy's experience and age made him the mature one in his marital relationship, so Melinda trusted him. It was because of that trust that she agreed to let me…" Caleb bit her bottom lip.

Colby began to gently interrogate Caleb, not wanting the woman to reconsider her confession. "So, they stayed two months, then left?"

"Originally, their visit was supposed to be longer. Randy loved to be surrounded by young people- he often said their auras filled him with confidence about the future of our country and the world. When Melinda became pregnant, he decided our commune would be the most loving and expressive place to bring a child into the world. So, they came that summer, with Melinda so heavily pregnant she looked like she'd deliver with each step she took."

Still unable to believe Caleb could have killed Thompson's son, he asked, "But something bad happened to the child some time after he was born?"

"What happened was me, and my selfish belief that I could, and should, do anything I wanted, never thinking about how my actions could harm those around me."

"Please, explain. I want to understand."

"Do you really think you can?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure I understand anything that happened during that era. Most people say you had to be there, and in this circumstance, I believe that may be correct. But, even if I can't understand, I need to know, because there really is a chance it can help my friend."

Caleb and Colby did not speak for several minutes. Caleb adjusted her shoulders against the baluster, at last finding physical and emotional positions that were comfortable enough to allow her to continue.

"Many types of people came through this commune, offering their services. Some of these included midwives. These women fascinated me, how they were able to help a new life safely enter the world- like they held the power of life within their hands. So, I watched two deliveries." Caleb turned to Colby, repeating firmly, "I watched two deliveries." Having made her point, she resumed her previous position, staring at the barn. "When Randy came here, he wasn't prepared. In his own way, he was naïve about this place; despite his political activism, Randy was still living the life of the privileged, that position protecting him from the harder aspects of the Civil Rights Movement- the government harassment and brutality often shown in documentaries. It also prevented him from understanding the physical limits of this commune. And the fact that people tended to come and go as they pleased."

"Randy and Melinda didn't like going without electricity and running water?"

"Neither one of them complained about living like the rest of the community. It was just physically difficult for Melinda, it being her first time with child and coming here so late in the pregnancy. Randy thought she could handle going without creature comforts, but she had never visited a place like this before, and moving here was too hard of an adjustment for a woman like her, especially in her condition. Still, Randy and Alfie assured her everything would be fine, that having a baby was so natural that a hospital wasn't required, nor was a doctor. To compensate for her discomfiture, both men tended to her every need. Alfie spent so much time with them, I jealously thought myself banished from their strange triangle, forced to the periphery of my relationship with Alfie; I was sure he wanted to be with Melinda and only her."

"It must have hurt to see him spending so much time with another woman."

"It did and, in a way, it still does; even though I can now reflect that he was only trying to help Randy. But I didn't come to that knowledge until I was much older, and it was too late to change my actions. At the time, I wanted desperately to be allowed into the inner sanctum that surrounded Melinda and her pregnancy, so I could be close to Alfie again."

Colby was sure he knew where Caleb's story was leading, but he allowed her to confirm his suspicions at her own pace. "So Randy decided to have a midwife deliver his son?"

"Yes, he decided. Melinda trusted him so thoroughly, and he was so adamant about staying away from the establishment's medical practitioners for the actual birth…She was only twenty, not too sure of herself. I don't know how she is now, but when I knew her, she was really not much more than a child, her radiant eyes so innocently trusting of everything those around her said- including me."

"You helped convince Melinda to allow a midwife to deliver her baby?"

"No, I convinced her to let me deliver her baby."

"But, with all your inexperience, why would she do that?'

"Because I lied to Melinda… to Randy… to Alfie and myself. When Randy came here, he had an experienced midwife ready to help in the delivery. But like so many of the people who partook in this commune, she drifted away one night, without warning. So I lied, said I could perform the services. It was my way of becoming a part of their little circle. They needed a midwife, so why not me? Suddenly, I was a part of everything they did, giving them advice along the way, suggestions that would supposedly help when Melinda finally gave birth."

"How could an intelligent man like Thompson believe you were a capable midwife?"

"We saw midwives younger than me come through this commune; they were mostly from the south, trained by their mothers and grandmothers. And Randy had that inherent faith in young people- it would never have crossed his mind to question my ability. As for Alfie, I guess he believed I could do anything I set my mind to. It really should have been alright, because giving birth is a natural procedure. But when a problem arises, you need at least one person present who knows how to solve it, otherwise, bad things can happen. In this case, they did."

Though the sun continued to beat down on them, Caleb shuddered, cool apparitions from the past touching her soul.

"I was ignorant- of the birthing process, of the experience and training a real midwife has to have in order to partake in a delivery, of all the skills involved. I watched two deliveries, and was suddenly cocky enough to believe that I could take the title, bragging to Melinda and Randy how they would be my first delivery as an official midwife, that since he was Alfie's friend the delivery would be more special for it. Melinda did ask about my experience and I lied, told her I delivered two other babies, under observation by an older midwife. I thought the process would be so easy and nothing could go wrong, so my lies seemed like exaggerations at the time. But lies they were."

"The birth didn't go as planned?"

"No, nothing went the way I thought it would. I didn't understand all the different things that can affect a pregnancy and birth. When Randy told me the delivery date their doctor had given them, I thought that it was written in stone- I really was that ignorant. Then late one night, almost two weeks before that date, Randy came running to me, telling me Melinda was in pain, horrible pain. Oh, did I love being in charge, having the responsibility of determining what should be done. Here I was, barely out of my teens, and this man, almost twice my age and respected by so many people, was begging me to tell him what to do. I was relishing the ownership of power, but I was too young to recognize the dangers that came with that particular possession, especially when used in regards to a fragile life."

"What did you do?"

"I sent them to the barn. I was already set up there, in anticipation of my big debut. Randy and Alfie had to carry Melinda; she couldn't walk, she hurt so badly. I thought she was taking the regular pain of contractions and overemphasizing it, as it was her first birth and she was bound to be scared. But I was wrong, terribly wrong; by the time I realized my mistake, she was screaming so loud and hard, I could do nothing but quiver on my knees next to her. All I could see was the blood- on the blankets and my clothes….and my hands, searing my hands."

Caleb lifted her hands to her face, shocked that they were clean of blood because her memories were so vivid. Quietly breaking in, Colby asked, "What happened?"

"Alfie went to find a real midwife- someone who knew what she was doing. When she got there, she practically flung me from the barn. Alfie followed me, both of us waiting, scared, while Melinda continued to scream, our guilt hidden in the dark. I don't know how long we stood there, but it wasn't long. Randy came to us, got Alfie to help him get Melinda down to a car and to a hospital. I tried to follow, stay by Melinda's side. But then she raised her eyes and pleaded with me, "My baby? Where's my little boy?" I fell behind, wondering what had happened myself, not really wanting to know. Moments later, the midwife came out with a bundled blanket. She handed it to me- a physical accusation; she left me holding the evidence of my ignorance, my lies, and my out of control jealousy."

"What was in that bundle?"

A solitary tear looped down Caleb's face. "The baby I'd killed- Randy and Melinda's dead little boy."

Sorrow washed through her words, the kind of mourning that only long years of regret could produce. Colby knew the woman had been a mere child herself when she had behaved so foolishly, as so many young people tended to do; yet she seemed to be so forgiving of her friends' mistake in trusting her, but could not extend that forgiveness to her own youthful sins.

"Caleb, it sounds like you were young and headstrong. You were bound to make bad decisions."

"Lying is not a bad decision. Jealousy is not a bad decision. Causing the death of another is not a bad decision. They are actions that are bad, and cause bad things to happen. And I did them all, taking the lives of five people in the process."

Colby adjusted his jaw and then sat back in his rocker. He took a swallow of tea, noticing how his stomach grumbled when the liquid hit it. Looking at the cake that still sat unappetizingly on the table beside him, Colby ignored his stomach's request for sustenance and focused his attention back on Caleb. "I thought only the baby died. Who else lost his life that night?"

"Melinda, of course. The doctor's did what they could for her, but it wasn't enough; she could never conceive again. That baby had been the focal point of her life, and without it, or the hope of another, the innocent life she had led was effectively ended. Randy used his father's resources to hide the fact that she'd ever given birth, but she never forgot. Nor did any of us. I know you've been to war, may have seen hundreds of men killed in the line of duty. But nothing, absolutely nothing, is more horrendous than holding the lifeless body of a baby, especially knowing you were the cause of its death." Caleb paused, as if deciding whether or not to tell Colby something. Making her decision, she continued, "Alfie said Melinda should have been institutionalized, but to keep things quiet, she received professional care at home."

Caleb climbed down from the banister, allowing the scene of her moral crime to fall from view. Sitting down in her rocker, she eagerly watched as the sun slowly dropped in the sky, knowing its eventual disappearance would grant the night permission to cloak her sins once again. Colby sat patiently beside her, knowing her story was nearing its end.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb attempted to finish. "Randy's life was taken, too, of course. He never got over the guilt of having brought Melinda here. She was his wife and he was much older- he felt he should have known better. Then there was Alfie and me. I found it impossible to be around him, the guilt overshadowing everything that had been good in our lives. Eventually, he left this place, and I would have gone, too. Only, I received a visit from a lawyer one day, and signed some papers. The effect was that this farm became mine. By then, the commune had closed down. No one told the people not to come- I think they just knew not to."

"Did rumors get around about what had happened?"

"No, no one ever said a word. The core of the commune was far from the barn and no one seemed to notice our movements in the dark. And none of us ever said anything, including the midwife. I think this place just became…sad afterwards. And people could sense it, so they stopped coming, seeking out happier places to rest. For over thirty years I have stayed here alone with this unhappy valley, mourning the lives that I took, including my own."

Probing for more information, Colby asked, "But why all the secrecy? Your actions were from lack of experience, and were not necessarily criminal."

"The push to have minorities register to vote- it wasn't popular with everyone. Neither were free-spirited communes. Randy thought his opponents would use his son's death and his involvement in it as a type of propaganda against the movement, and our way of living. Like coming here, keeping the whole incident hushed up was another decision Randy made that Melinda paid for. According to Alfie, she wanted to talk about her baby- and nothing else. Randy wouldn't let her, trying to avoid the scandal, not because he didn't love her, but because he loved the movement and its people, maybe too much."

"What happened to the baby?"

"I buried him in one of the distant fields behind the barn. Exactly where, I don't know. It was still dark when I found a spot that could easily be dug up, and in the morning, I could not face what I had done, so I made myself not think about where the baby laid."

"Did you ever tell Melinda where the baby was buried?"

"No. The one time she returned to the commune, long after the incident, she was seeking a live child. That's when Randy swept her away and got her more thorough professional help. After she received that care, she never visited this place again. I haven't seen her in over thirty-five years."

"Caleb, would you swear out a statement to all the things you have told me? Maybe go before a grand jury?"

"I don't know if I can do that. What purpose would it serve?"

"It may help that friend of mine. If you don't feel you can do it, can you tell me where to find the other people who witnessed the birth; maybe who the midwife was? Or where to find Alfie? They could testify instead of you."

"Though she was only a few years older than me, the midwife is long dead- killed in a car accident back in '75. Randy, of course, died of cancer two years ago."

"What about Alfie?"

"I know he's still alive, but I don't know how to contact him."

"Then how can you be sure that he hasn't passed away?"

"For two reasons. First, because he continues to pay the property taxes on my farm; considering I have never had any income, I could not have paid them all these years."

"And second?"

"Every year, on my birthday, I receive an envelope in the mail, no return address. There's never a card inside, nothing written- just a sort of loose potpourris made entirely of wildflowers."

Colby stood from his chair, letting it rock back and forth behind him. The sun was lowering in the sky. Feeling he had gathered as much information as he could from the woman, Colby held out his hand to her. "Thank you for everything you have told me. I must emphasize that it would be very helpful if you'd testify to all of these events. It may alleviate your guilt knowing your confession helped another person."

"I've been hidden here with my secret for far too many years. I think it is too late to try to make amends for it."

"In any case, I am going to be back. I'll give you some time to think about it, but I may have to insist that you come with me when I return."

Shaking Colby's hand, she assured him, "I don't think I'll change my mind. And if you feel the need to arrest me, you would find that it had done you no good; I have excellent practice in remaining silent about this entire affair." Stretching up from her chair, Caleb excused herself. She came back moments later with a shovel. "Stick it upright in the sand when you're done. You are not the first person to get stuck in that dry spot, and I might as well save someone the walk to my house."

Colby grinned. "Thanks. I had completely forgotten. Don't think I'd have been too happy to get back to my car and realize I still needed it."

Caleb walked him to the head of the path, asking, "If I did testify, how would it affect Melinda?"

"It might put her behind bars."

"For what?"

"Kidnapping of an officer of the United States government; we believe she illegally confined that good man I told you about, my friend, Special Agent Eppes."

Caleb stopped short, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. Colby could see a change in her posture, as if he had said something that hit a chord, making her remember some forgotten aspect of her story. When the woman did not speak, Colby wished her good-bye, asking that she continue to think about what he'd said, and then he headed down the trail. The agent knew he'd have to call his team members and tell them that he would be delayed in his return; Caleb was obviously holding something back, and he knew he would have to make another visit the next day to see if she was willing to talk about it. He was halfway to his car when he heard Caleb calling from behind him. Turning around, he watched as she jogged down the path to where he stood.

"I need to know something before you leave, Colby."

"What's that?" he asked, leading her back up the path. Maybe she was ready to finish their talk.

"This Agent Eppes, this friend of yours…"

"Yes, what about him?"

"He wouldn't happen to be Maggie and Alan's little boy, would he?"