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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Charlie held Buddy in his arms, petting his left ear as Don smiled approvingly.

Two-hundred and eighty-seven.

That was the exact number of fur strings Charlie counted on the rabbit's left ear, hoping that he did not reduce it by even one. He and Don had been sitting next to each other in the solarium, quietly enjoying each other's company. When he felt they were ready to talk about the problems they'd had that day, Charlie gave Buddy to Don and smiled when he saw how his brother kissed the rabbit's head, clinging to it as if Buddy had returned from a long trip. Charlie appreciated Don's selfless act of sharing the toy, an indication to him that Don thought that healing his brother's pain was more important than having the security of his best friend by his side. Slightly amused with himself, Charlie wondered if he had been guilty of feeling jealous, too, only of Don's relationship with Buddy rather than with an actual friend.

"Don, do you finally forgive me?" Charlie tried to read his brother's eyes, but could not reach them as Don kept them cemented to Buddy's head.

"I do...And... I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, too. I understand that it can be hard to share someone you love with other people. Sometimes you get afraid that they won't come back to you. But I'm your brother, and I always will."

"Like Mommy." Don stated.

Charlie frowned. He hated having to talk about that woman as if she were really their mom. But he also knew it was important to get Don to talk more about her visit, so Charlie agreed, "Yes, she did come back, didn't she, on Monday night- and when she left, she took something with her."

Don nodded tearfully. "She took the belt."

"No, Don she didn't." Charlie watched as Don raised his head and stared at him in disbelief. "She took the lockbox, Don, but the belt wasn't in it." Charlie grappled with the words he was about to say, wanting them to be perfect. "I didn't lie this morning when I said the belt was gone and she didn't have access to it. Well, at least I didn't mean to lie. I was wrong to imply that it was in the closet, and I understand why you got mad at me for pretending like it was, when you knew it wasn't. But I was not lying when I said she didn't have it. Monday morning, I gave the belt to some friends of ours- so they could keep it safe. When she came that night, you might have thought she took the belt, but all she got was an empty container. Now she has no way to hit you anymore."

Don licked his lips. "It was empty?"

"Yes, Don," Charlie ran his finger in an ex across his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Don sat and thought about how Mommy had hit him the night before, over and over. She had been able to do that and she didn't even have the belt. Fear clutched at his throat as he thought about how much power Mommy had. And Mommy would know by now that the lockbox had been empty. Don turned to Charlie- how will Mommy teach you to be good when she finds out you gave away her belt? It was too much for Don to think about, his anxiety causing him to shiver.

Charlie pulled Don to him and held tight, trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking of his body. He had thought their discussion would make Don feel secure again, but it hadn't worked. Somehow, it had made matters worse, and all he could do was try to dam the overflow of fear that was streaming through Don's body.

"Please, Don, it's alright. Tell me what is wrong?"

"She...she..." Don stuttered.

"What, Don. Come on, you have to tell me."

"No," he said, "she'll hurt..." No further sound came from his mouth, just raspy breaths of air.

"Hurt you, Don?" It dawned on Charlie that if Don thought Thompson really hit him last night, and if he believed him now about the belt, then Don knew her possession of it made no difference in her ability to hurt him. For this, Charlie regretted that he had needed to tell Don the truth about the belt, as he had inadvertantly increased Don's assessment of Thompson's ability to cause harm. "Don't worry, I'll still protect you and take care of you."

"Yes...and...and..."

Charlie remembered what Megan told their dad about Thompson threatening them. He tightened his arms around Don and said, "She may want to hurt me and Dad, Don, but she can't. We are too strong for that. You have to believe me- I promise."

Don pictured all of the things his mommy had done to him, and how strong she was when he tried to fight her off. Charlie was not as big as him and Daddy was much older. How could they win against her if he wasn't able to? He didn't believe that Charlie was lying to him. Don knew he should not think that again, especially after the bad day they'd had because he thought Charlie had lied the first time. But Don knew Mommy better than they did, and he knew it was easy to think that she was weak.

But she wasn't, Don thought, not at all.

Charlie began to hum in Don's ear as he rocked their bodies back and forth. Don's shivering had almost disappeared when Alan appeared in the doorway asking, "Are you friends again?"

"I don't know for sure." Charlie separated from Don. He knew it would be a long time before Don learned that he did not have to fear Thompson. In the meantime, he wanted to make sure that he and his brother had at least solved the problems from that morning. He asked Don, "Well, what do you say? Are we friends?"

While Don was thinking, Alan sank down on the couch beside him, and Larry appeared in his stead. The small man dropped cross-legged on the recliner once he detected that the tension that previously filled the air had faded.

Charlie saw the stress in Alan's face. He raised two questioning eyebrows, and Alan whispered during naptime as his answer in return.

Don looked over at Larry and frowned, sizing up the scientist with a knowing eye. Larry didn't look scary; he had already decided that. He was a little funny-looking; his clothes didn't look like they fit very well, the buttons not even in their right holes and the fabric all wrinkly. Taking in the short height of the man, Don decided Larry's mommy needed to be more careful when she dressed him. Sneaking a glance at Charlie, Don was satisfied that his brother hadn't shifted his attention to his friend. Then Don remembered.

Charlie said Larry was our friend.

Maybe that was why Larry had given him the sucker. He was being a good friend, trying to make Don happy, just like Buddy always did. Thinking of his best friend, Don realized he had shared him with Charlie and it was okay. He felt certain that Charlie had done the same with Larry, and had shared him with Don. Now he and Charlie both had two friends, but more importantly, they still had each other.

His approval of Larry finalized, Don told his father, "Yeah...we're all friends." And he smiled at Larry, who flustered and offered a smile of his own.

"About time, young man," Alan admonished, "You are over an hour late for lunch and overdue for a nap."

"Sorry," Don dropped his eyes. "Didn't mean to."

Alan gave him a quick hug and kiss on the head. "I know, Donny. I just hate whenever you and Charlie argue."

Don gave him a baffled look. "We don't argue...not before."

Charlie grinned next to Don. "To be honest, Don, we have in the past."

Don switched his attention to Charlie. "No we didn't."

"I'm afraid your brother is correct," Larry said from his seat, "But you've always been able to make up."

"Sometimes, though," Alan said ruefully, "You two have held a grudge, and it has taken days, even weeks before you would talk to each other."

"Like that one ridiculous disagreement you and Don had," Larry rolled his eyes up and to the side, thinking, "the one your dad told me about. I believe it ended with you two on the front lawn."

"You would have to bring that up," Charlie laughed, joined by the rest of the room's occupants, though Don wasn't sure what had been funny. They were enjoying the benefits of the released tension, all of them so at ease with each other it was if Melinda Thompson had never entered their lives and it was just an average afternoon in the Eppes home, all four men joking with each other.

"On the front lawn...doing what?" Don asked, excited at having fun again.

"On the front lawn fighting," Alan smiled, the worries of the day erased from his face.

"No!" Don said, and then he giggled. "Who won?"

Quickly, Charlie said, "Nobody did! We came out exactly even."

Then all four men laughed. "Don't believe you." Don said, but feeling guilty for saying it, he added, "You're just wrong."

"Oh, I think he is a tad bit more than wrong," Alan busted out his youngest son. "I believe he lost the girl in the end."

"Dear me, I had forgotten the fight was about a young girl," Larry smiled, "It seems impossible that you boys would go to such lengths over any girl."

"What, don't all teenage boys settle their disputes on their front lawns?" Alan inquired, smirking between laughs.

"Fighting in the dirt no less," Larry shook his head and chuckled, "over something as simple as a date."

"Wait a minute!" Charlie sat up, moving his hands back and forth over each other, as if calling someone safe, "This was not just any date. This was prom. And she definitely was not just any girl."

"No," Don quipped, nodding his head knowingly, "It was Val."

Three pairs of eyes widened and turned toward Don, who continued to laugh merrily, completely unaware of the scrutiny of the others in the room.

Charlie, Alan and Larry looked at each other, sharing the same thought- Don remembered someone. Trying to remain casual and not put too much pressure on Don, all three men laughed again, adjusting their positions in their seats. Charlie sat at an angle, his limbs thrown about on his small share of the couch. Alan lay against the side of the couch, casually throwing his arm over its back. Larry climbed onto the arm of the recliner and perched there, his feet dangling over the side.

"Wow! That was funny," Charlie exclaimed, laughing nervously, "us fighting over Val. I don't even remember what she looked like." Then he looked expectantly at Don, as if anticipating an answer.

Don laughed back. "Bet she pretty."

"Sure was," Alan contributed with a large grin on his face, "all that blond hair."

Continuing to laugh, Don told his father, "No, brown hair." And then he added for good measure, "long...soft...like Buddy." He held the toy out to Alan and petted it in an effort to get him to understand.

"Really?" Charlie tried to look amazed. "I remember her having blond hair, too, and the bluest eyes I have ever seen."

Don stopped laughing, a frown creasing his mouth. "Don't think so." Closing his eyes, he affirmed, "Brown...with green spots." When he opened his eyes again, he grinned, proud of himself as he was acutely aware that he had garnered an audience.

Recognizing the self-satisfied expresssion on Don's face, Charlie decided to forgo the roundabout efforts and directly asked him, "What else do you remember about her?"

When Don closed his eyes again, the other three men unconsciously leaned forward as one.

"Pretty, yes..." Don sighed. Then he settled into his seat and rested the back of his head against the couch. "Tall, white teeth….smart." He peeked an eye open, making sure he had the attention of everybody in the room.

He did.

Don scrunched his eyes shut and tried to picture the girl. She reminded him of Mommy, with her long, dark hair, but then she didn't. Val, Don said in his mind, letting it float about before repeating her name- Val.

Then Don could see her and they were dancing, her body pressed up close to his, lights everywhere, shining in their faces, and he thought the lights must have been hot, because he was warm, very warm.

"Dancing slow." Don spoke aloud. "Lights and…and…palm trees?"

Charlie turned and leaned back toward Larry, "Our prom theme had something to do with paradise- some stupid thing like that."

Overhearing him, Don said, "You don't know…it's stupid…didn't go."

Larry and Alan muffled a laugh. Charlie smiled and shook his head.

Eyes still closed, Don thought about the big dance, the prom. Val was beautiful in his arms; he smiled without thinking.

"Do you remember something else, Don?" Alan asked.

"She's so pretty." Don sighed again.

Time flashed forward in his mind. Val and he were no longer dancing; they were in a room, pressing against each other. Don licked his lips. Val was like Mommy, she was getting him dressed. No, that wasn't right. She was taking off his clothes, and he was kissing her. Not on the cheek, like he did Mommy and Daddy, or when they kissed him on the head. And it made him feel different, not safe at all. It made him feel nervous and happy and scared and excited all at once.

Continuing to sit languidly against the back of the couch, his hands lying loosely on either side of him, Buddy fallen away, eyes closed, Don whispered happily, "Soft skin…real soft hair…silky…ev'rywhere…"

Val's eyes held his, directly across from him. She grimaced, and arched her neck, huskily grunting his name before he kissed her again.

"Feels warm and hot…" Don's tongue flicked out as if to taste a treat. "Tastes like…good, better than…suckers…her nails are strong…scratch in my back… she strong, too…push against me…hard."

"Uh, oh." Alan said, realizing what Don was beginning to describe. "Donny, maybe those are enough memories for now."

"No," Don said, "It's nice…real nice…she's soft…and hot…ev'rywhere." Don's voice was filled with awe.

"That's really enough, Don," Charlie said, sitting forward and taking a sterner voice than Alan. "You did a great job, but we have to eat lunch now."

Don could no longer hear the people around him. Everything was Val. She ran her fingers along his spine and goose bumps coated his arms. She flicked her tongue along his lips, and rubbed her calf up his leg, higher and higher. When she opened her arms, drawing him in, he was sure he was being consumed by fire.

Sweat beaded Don's forehead and a quiet gasp escaped his lips.

"Donny," Alan shook his arm gently. "That's enough for now."

Then everything crashed- Don's thoughts shattered into a million pieces. Desperately, he grasped at them, but they refused to realign and he was left with just the name of a woman whose memory he had lost once again.

Don sat forward and put his head between his knees, a headache beginning to surface. "She's gone…all gone," he said with remorse.

Concerned, Alan took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at Don's brow, drying the sweat dotting it. "It's okay, Donny. If I know anything about your past, there are a lot more memories where that came from." While he rubbed Don's neck, Alan looked over to Charlie, who sat with a slightly perturbed look on his face.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I think it's great that he finally remembered someone." He got up, putting a hand under Don's arm to help him stand. When all four men were heading to the dining room, Alan pulled Charlie under his arm and asked him, "You're not upset that Don's first memory was of a girl, are you? Because you know he'll remember us soon enough."

"No, no, that's not it," Charlie responded, stopping while Don and Larry sat at the table. "Really, it's not important." But his father had his eyes on Charlie, waiting for him to explain. "It's really nothing. It was just a little annoying to find out that Don, uh, lied to me."

"About what?" Alan asked curiously.

"About Val," Charlie said. "It's not that important, not compared to him remembering someone and all. It's just that he, uh, when I asked him about it afterward, he told me nothing happened, you know, prom night. He and Val never did anything."

Alan snorted, "Charlie, how could you believe that? It was prom night- at some point, it had to have crossed your mind that Don lied?"

Charlie shook his head, "I know, I know. But up until now, at least I was able to pretend it was true. And I know it shouldn't matter, but a little feeling of envy kind of stabbed me in the chest- not much, but still," he shrugged his shoulders. "But what bothers me more is that I was thinking- what if more memories come up about other stuff he kept from us? Things maybe he didn't want us to know for good reason. Don's always kept his personal life private, and now it's like we're going to be cutting it open and displaying it to the world. I don't want him to resent us for that later."

Alan turned Charlie towards him, so they were facing each other. "I think we need to handle Don's memories like we have all of our problems- as they occur. And I hate to say it, but Don's older memories are going to be the least of our problems. You know how emotionally traumatic it will be when Don- our Don, not Thompson's- becomes aware of the recent events in his life. We already know that the humiliation of what she did to him, and what we have had to do to keep him secure now, is going to be overwhelming to Don. Whether they're bad memories or ones he wanted to keep private, at least the ones we're helping Don dig up are his; these most recent ones are more Thompson's memories than his own, and I think Don's knowledge of them is what will affect him the worst."

Charlie nodded in understanding. Unfortunately, his father was right. Even if Don would not want them to know about certain events in his life, Charlie knew his brother would be less concerned about that than how they had babied him now.

When Charlie sat down next to Don at the table, he put the feeding glove on him, and then positioned his hands to massage his throat. He was almost slipping into a depressed mood of his own, when Don flopped Buddy on the table between them and smiled at him, as if everything in the world was right. And thanks to Don's presence, Charlie was at least able to pretend it was true, even if it was only for a little while.

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Caleb again found herself on her front porch watching the twin headlights of Colby's car disappear, regretting the loss of light as it was extinguished by the curve of the hill. She hugged her body when she glimpsed the wispy memories that hung from the eaves of her house like icicles. But when her thoughts turned to Maggie and Alan's little baby boy and how she would help him, Caleb was surprised that the flimsy memories melted and for the first time in thirty-five years, she became aware of her surroundings. Not of the valley that had carried a commune on its back, not of the barn that had housed death, and not of the black earth that covered a sin; Caleb was aware of the fresh smell of grapes breezing across her face from the distant vineyards, bright stars crackling at her eyes, tall reeds fluting a soft song in the wind, warm air shadowing her back, and the taste of redemption wet on her tongue.

Caleb found it strange, but she no longer felt comfort from the night, but desired as much light as she could obtain. Quickly, she went into her home, dashing from room to room, turning on every switch. When she was done, Caleb dropped down the stairs, energized by the promise Colby had made her that he would return that night with a fax from the USDA, a piece of paper that was to be Caleb's salvation. She felt that Colby was right, if she testified on her own, she would be paying her debt to the Eppes; but her final debt to Melinda would be paid with the promise she had obtained- that, if possible, Melinda would be given help rather than punished.

Wanting to be prepared when Colby returned, Caleb packed a small duffle bag with clothes and necessities, just enough for a day or two. Then she took a flashlight from a drawer and went outside, where she searched along the side of her house until she found a shovel. Next, she took a sheet down from her clothesline in back and carried everything to the front of her porch, climbing down under it and dragging the shovel and sheet behind her as she crawled backwards to the grave of Melinda's baby.

So busy was Caleb, she did not notice another set of lights come over the distant hill and down towards her valley. Not that she would have been concerned if she had seen the lights. Caleb would have just assumed the occupants of the car were lost, and would turn around once they reached the end of the road. Or, if they got stuck, that they would use the shovel Colby had left by the side of the road to dig their way out and then leave. In either case, the appearance of car headlights would not have alarmed her. That would have only occured if they did not disappear over the curve of the hill, but were extinguished instead-

-just as these particular headlights were.

Some time later, Caleb wormed her way out of the crawlspace, pulling a bundle after her. She stood up, trying to hold the filled sheet in front and away from her with both hands; she carried it around to the front steps, the flashlight held between her teeth and her eyes on the narrowly illuminated path before her feet. When Caleb got to the bottom step, she attempted to climb up, but lost her balance.

Quickly, she opened her right hand, releasing her grip on the sheet and reaching out to grab a banister.

But it wasn't hard wood that she touched; instead, her hand landed on the thin arm of a man.

Caleb looked up, then became petrified from fright, as she stared into the dark eyes of Gordon Fairfield.