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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When Charlie reentered the house, he found Don asleep on his father's chest, Alan brushing his lips across his head and continuing to touch him wherever possible without disturbing his son. Slipping back out and locking the door behind him, Charlie asked Larry for a ride to retrieve his dad's car. Megan, David and Colby left, promising to keep in contact. It took almost two hours for Charlie to return home; he parked his car and entered the house, not noticing Megan sitting in her car across the street.

It was becoming worse for her. Not having a job to occupy her time, she found her thoughts randomly thinking about Don. She would watch a game on TV and wonder if he was watching, too. At dinner, she tried to imagine what he was eating and if he was improving his swallowing. When she slid into bed, she thought how nice it would be to hold him and offer him the comfort he sought from everyone else around him, cuddling under the blankets and in each other's arms.

This has got to stop, she told herself.

But of course, it didn't.

Tonight had been hard for her, seeing Don so scared, standing with that damn rabbit and sucking his thumb. She chastised herself again and again, but her other self argued that there was no woman on the face of the earth who wouldn't have wanted to pull him into their arms and soothe him. Megan had to leave immediately upon seeing him, knowing she wanted to push Charlie aside and have Don in her embrace, not his.

This is ridiculous, she kept saying to herself.

Ridiculous or not, she couldn't stop feeling the way she did. What I need is to find a man and fool around with him, remind myself that Don is no longer one and is a child. But anyone could see that no matter what his mental functioning, Don was definitely a man. And late at night, after she was asleep, her dreams were not about holding or soothing or comforting the child she had seen tonight, but about raw passion and touching and kissing and entwining with the man she knew was still hidden inside there.

Megan was patient. She believed she could wait for that man to emerge again, and this time, she would make a move.

Until then, Megan decided that with all the time she had on her hands, it would be a good idea for her to watch the house as often as she physically could- at least until the hearing. It was foolish to think possessively of Don, but she knew she was not going to let Thompson take him away again- not from Charlie or Alan or from me, she thought, wondering when the hell her emotions had crossed the line over into insanity.

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Alan and Don were no longer in the living room, so Charlie headed to the stairs. He stopped at the dining room table. In the middle of it, there sat four of the levers that he had attached to the doors of the house. It was apparent that his father was taking no further chances of Don escaping again. Charlie put the levers into the hall closet, glad to see that it still had its lever attached to its doorknob; his father must have only removed the ones from the exit doors.

Charlie went upstairs and saw the bathroom door was shut. When he entered, he observed his father was toweling Don off, a fresh set of clothes and a pair of special briefs sitting on the toilet lid.

Sighing, Charlie remembered the stain on Don's shirt, knowing what had happened. He asked his father if he wanted him to take over.

"No, that's alright, Charlie. I'm almost done." He proceeded to powder Don and then get him dressed for bed, ignoring the sad eyes that stared down at him.

"Don't wear these," Don whined, but Alan continued to put on the special briefs, and then pulled up his regular ones.

"You allowed her to feed you all that liquid again, didn't you Donny?" Alan asked quietly as he to put on Don's shirt.

Don looked away guiltily.

Alan set him on the toilet lid and began to gently brush his hair. "If you keep letting her do things like that to you, then you'll have to wear things like special briefs the rest of your life. Do you understand?"

Don stuck his thumb in his mouth, his eyes wet; Charlie lowered his, feeling bad. He had promised his brother that whenever he had an accident, he would be the one to make it right, keeping it just between the two of them. Now, Don was not only back in his special briefs after just one day, but he had also been put in the position of having their father take care of something that he had not wanted to share with anyone else except Charlie. For whatever reason, Don wanted that part of his care to fall to his brother alone, and Charlie felt a momentary glitch of guilt for having been away, even though the reasoning part of his mind knew someone had to pick up their car.

Somehow, Charlie thought, I keep failing you, Don.

When Alan finished with Don's hair, he helped him to his feet and led him past Charlie into the bedroom. Charlie stayed behind, pulling Don's jeans from the hamper and taking the chalk from their front pocket. He was glad to see that it had not been a victim this time, and took it into the other room, placing it beside their mother's picture on the dresser.

Alan attempted to wrap Don in the top sheet. But Don refused to lie down under it. "Please, Daddy," he said, lying on his side so he could face his father. When Alan climbed into bed, he was surprised that Don was clinging to him again, just like the first night when he had come home. He welcomed his son's need, pulling him close once again. Don was soon lost to an exhausted sleep.

Charlie slipped out of his jeans, shut off the light and slid into bed next to Don. He propped himself up on one elbow and waited for his eyes to get used to the dark. When they had, he looked at his father, who was so close to Don that they were almost one body. Charlie could see his father now appeared to be trembling. He reached across to him and gripped his hand, squeezing.

"Dad, it's okay. We have him back."

"No, Charlie, it's not okay. I don't think it ever will be." Alan pulled his hand from Charlie and began rubbing Don's back, needing to make contact with his eldest through as much touching as possible, just to make sure he was really there.

Charlie smiled. "Remember our motto- things will get better. I promise, they will."

Alan sighed deeply. "No they won't. I don't believe that anymore. Today was more proof of that. When she wants him again, she'll get him, only the next time she'll keep him forever."

Then Alan started sobbing, putting a fist to his mouth to stifle the sound because he did not want to wake Don.

Charlie slipped his arm through Don's, his hand resting on his father's side; his head hidden against Don's back, no longer smiling. He didn't know how to make his father stop hurting or how to rescue his brother from Thompson's influence. He was beginning to believe that his father was right- Thompson was playing a game they were going to lose, and he ground his teeth, pressing his eyes together so that he did not join his father and start to cry.

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Thursday morning, Charlie found himself brushed to the side as Alan took charge of Don's care. He bathed him, dressed him, and fed him. When they entered the solarium, Alan refused to let Don do any of his exercises. Instead, he turned on a cartoon and positioned himself in the center of the couch, pulling Don down beside him and putting his arms around him. Don looked over at Charlie, scared at the change in routine. Charlie nodded that it was okay, and watched as Don pulled his legs up onto the couch and settled against his father's chest, sucking his thumb and holding Buddy while he watched the TV, Alan rubbing his arm and occasionally setting a small kiss on his head.

Charlie stood watching them. After almost losing Don the day before, he needed to be with his family, too. He sat down on the recliner, moved into one position, then another, but could not get comfortable. He sat forward, his fingers loosely in his hair, looking between the TV and his family on the couch. Finally, he got up and sat next to his father, sitting against the back of the couch. A few minutes later, he bent his left leg, angling it under him; it was not long before the other one joined it and Charlie was awkwardly sitting on the couch like his brother, his legs gathered under him and leaning toward his father. Alan lowered his eyes to Charlie, who raised his to meet his father's, a flush of embarrassment on his face. Smiling, Alan lifted his left arm up over Charlie, saying, "Room for one more." Charlie felt silly for a moment- he was too old to want to rest against his father. However, the moment passed when he felt his father drop his arm around his waist, bringing his youngest son's body to his own. Charlie's head rested on Alan's chest, the top of his hair touching the tip of Don's head; while they watched the television, Charlie twisted a lock of hair while Don twisted Buddy's ear, both men now three years old and needing their father's arms around them.

Alan relaxed into the couch, both of his sons drawn up against him, the innocence of a cartoon playing before them on the tube.

Don and Charlie listened to their father's heartbeat, so steady and soft. That steadiness had been a part of their father that they had always relied upon, and it felt good to be experiencing it once again. Charlie thought sadly of how that heart had been broken so harshly- by their mother's death and by Don's disappearance- not once, but twice; yet it managed to survive. He wondered how erratic it would become in its pounding if- no, when- Thompson made her next move. For the time being, though, it was good to know he and Don could still depend on it.

About ten o'clock, the psychiatrist arrived to do the new evaluation of Don that Judge Salem had requested. Reluctantly, the Eppes men separated, missing the warmth of each other the moment they stood from the couch. When Dr. Fillmore was led to the solarium, he asked Alan and Charlie to leave him alone with Don, but neither man trusted having Don out of their line of vision, so Alan stood in the entryway to the living room, able to observe but not hear Don and Fillmore in the solarium, while Charlie stood directly on the other side of the door to the garage. By their positions, Charlie and Alan knew that the two exits from the solarium were covered.

When Dr. Fillmore finished talking with Don, Alan went to his son and resumed watching cartoons with him, laying him against his chest once again. Charlie answered a basic and life skills questionnaire for Dr. Fillmore, similar to the one Alan had answered when being interviewed for the first time by Jim. Afterwards, Charlie enquired as to what Dr. Fillmore's evaluation would say.

"Well, Professor Eppes, I would have to say that it only took a few minutes with your brother for me to determine he needs someone to watch over him. His responses are short and childish in nature, he does not comprehend but a small portion of what is happening in his life, he does not have the physical or mental skills to care for his needs, and he definitely has an attachment to that stuffed toy of his. I would think it was a family member from the way he talked about him."

Charlie smiled. "In an indirect way, Buddy is a family member." He was thinking about his conversation with Megan and was referring to Buddy as an effigy of himself.

Dr. Fillmore paused in the task of putting away his notes. "Pardon me?"

"Uh, nothing," Charlie said. "Do you know when you will have your report ready for our attorney?"

"Late tomorrow morning."

Charlie frowned. "That doesn't give him much time to file our papers."

"Well, do you want it done fast, or do you want it done quickly and correctly?" Dr. Fillmore picked up his briefcase and headed towards the front door. "I think you will be pleased with the evaluation. My summary will include a plea that someone be assigned to look after your brother." With that, he was gone.

Seeing is father ensconced on the couch with Don, Charlie was tempted to join them, but decided to make lunch instead. He was slightly perturbed when his father insisted on feeding Don again, though he was still not able to properly get the feeding glove on him. Charlie stood to the side, sighing silently in his head, his hands on his hips.

Alan glanced at Charlie and saw the disappointed look on his face. He released Don's hand and stepped away, smiling in apology. "I guess I've been trying to keep him all to myself, huh?"

"No," Charlie said, smiling in return as he moved past his father to feed Don, "you've been hogging him."

Alan laughed- a wonderful melody in Charlie's ears. After lunch, Don and Alan took their nap while Charlie retreated to the garage.

His chalkboards were covered in grids from the search that had been conducted the night before, all of his work on determining the cause of the brain injury thoughtlessly erased. Charlie allowed himself the luxury of losing himself in his numbers for the first time since Don had come home, setting up a new algorithm and entering new data, trusting his father would not let Don out of his presence for even a second. Charlie was finally called from his bubble by the sound of the phone ringing, over and over again, incessantly. Dropping his chalk onto the bottom of the nearest board, he ran out into the living room and snatched up the phone.

"Hello," he said breathlessly.

"Charlie, I'm so glad I finally reached you. This is Jim, over at the institute."

Looking at the lateness of the time, Charlie groaned. He had forgotten Don's aqua therapy. "I'm sorry, Jim. It's been chaotic over here. Believe it or not, Thompson took off with Don again."

Jim was silent on the phone for several pauses. "Did you find him?"

"Oh, yeah, he's home," Charlie replied. "He was reevaluated this morning by a new psychiatrist. We're hoping to be back in court on Monday and have new conservatorship papers."

"Then you planned to come today?" Jim asked.

"Well, yes, we just forgot." Charlie sat on the arm of the recliner. "Hey, this doesn't mean we lost our slot, does it? I'll pay you for today anyway, and next week we'll be there again- on time, I promise."

"I'm confused, Charlie." Jim hesitated.

"About what?" Charlie slid into the seat of the recliner. "We missed one session- I know you guys are expensive, but other people must have called off before."

"Oh, no, I mean, yes, they have. That's not what I'm confused about."

Charlie waited, not knowing what could be bothering the therapist.

Finally, Jim asked, "Charlie, you and your dad are still communicating, aren't you?"

"Of course we are- we live in the same house." Charlie started drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, becoming impatient.

"Well, it's just, Alan- your dad- called the institute late last night. Said Don wouldn't be coming for a few weeks- that you guys were keeping him home. And Marie down in accounting says all of your bills were paid in full."

Charlie leaned forward. "What?"

"I said your father called the institute..."

Charlie shook his head so he could think clearly. "No, I'm sorry. I understood you the first time, only I didn't know he had called. It must be a misunderstanding."

"No, according to the receptionist, he was adamant that Don would not be returning and that we were not to contact the house. I'm sorry, but it sounds like your father no longer wants our services."

"Well, whether he wants them or not, Don does." Charlie stood up, his hand tightening on the phone. "We will be back next week for all of his appointments. If my father calls again, it would be better if you just ignore him and listen to what I have to say."

Charlie could hear Jim breathing through the phone. It irritated him so much he wanted to throw the phone across the room. "Is there anything else, Jim?"

"Just one more thing; have either you or your father contacted any of those support groups I recommended."

"No, we haven't had time."

"Charlie, I think it would be a good idea if you did. It sounds like you two need to talk to someone about'-

"We don't need to talk to anyone," Charlie snapped into the phone, "we just need everyone to leave us alone." He slammed down the phone and stalked out of the room, looking for his father and Don.

Charlie could not find them in the dining room or kitchen. He realized it was long past the usual time they would wake from their nap, so it didn't make any sense that they were still upstairs, but he went looking for them there, knowing they would not have left the house.

When he reached the second floor and before he opened Don's bedroom door, Charlie forced himself to calm down. He knew his father was afraid of losing Don and yesterday's events had been hard on him.

This won't do, he told himself, I have to get control of myself or I'll end up fighting with Dad.

He placed his forehead against the wall and pressed his palms flat on its surface, breathing deeply, counting by square roots in his head while deciphering several equations at once, allowing the numbers to reach into his body and pull from it all of his anger and frustration. When he was ready, he opened the bedroom door, not the same child that had sought his father's comfort that morning but the man who had argued and won the right to mortgage his house, which was his first confrontation with his father. Charlie walked in as his father was pulling a new shirt over Don's head.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked, trying to sound casual.

"He had an accident while we slept, so I took care of him." Alan gave Buddy to Don and patted his son on the bottom, pushing him toward the door. "We were just about to go downstairs and watch some more TV."

More television, Charlie thought, no exercises. It had been good for them to be together that morning, and they probably needed it again this afternoon. But the basic chewing, tongue, and gripping activities took very little time, so there was no reason to skip them again.

Charlie took Don's hand and led him from his father.

"Where are you two going?" Alan asked

"You and I need to talk, and Don doesn't need to hear us, so I'm putting him on the top stair." Charlie took Don to the stairs and helped him sit down. "I'll be able to see you from the bedroom, so don't even think about moving." Don leaned against the wall, frightened that he had done something wrong.

When Charlie entered the bedroom, he cracked the door enough so he could see Don but not enough for Don to hear them- hopefully.

Alan stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Charlie to begin.

"Dad," Charlie said slowly, speaking low because he did not want his voice to carry out to Don, "Jim just called. He told me you canceled all of Don's appointments at the institute."

Alan's face went pale. He sat on the bed, his head falling into his hands. "I called last night, when you left. I didn't want Don to have to leave the house again- I thought it would be best to keep him here."

Charlie sat down beside him, his arm across his back. "Dad, we've been over this before; you know we can't do that. Our goal is to get him back out into the world again- back to risking his life in gunfights and raids and rescuing people- not toy rabbits. What happened yesterday can't change our goal."

Alan lifted his head, tears dripping off the tip of his nose. "Don't you think I know that? I was desperate last night. I even took the levers off the doors so Donny couldn't get out again."

"I noticed that and I don't think that was necessarily a bad idea. I hate to say it, but right now, we can't trust him. Thompson may have plans for him to run away with her another day, one where it will be more convenient for her to get him out of town."

Alan tensed. "I hadn't thought of that."

Regretting having mentioned it, Charlie tried to soothe, "I don't think that is her ultimate plan, I'm just pointing out that we don't know what she is going to do and we can't stop living because of it."

"I know that too," Alan sniffed, "there are people all over the world who face worse threats than Thompson, yet they manage to make it through the day. But I couldn't make it- not last night, not when I thought about Don going back to the institute and the threats that seem to come whenever he leaves the house."

"I understand that feeling of panic that you felt. I've had my moments, too. However, now it's today and not yesterday, so we need to make our decisions using our brains not our emotions, and agree that Don has to keep his appointments."

Alan stood up. "Yes, Charlie, of course. I'm ashamed that I called the place and talked to them so harshly. They must think I've gone off the deep end."

Charlie joined his father, grinning, relieved that the problem had been solved amicably. "You haven't gone as deep as me. I just yelled at Jim for suggesting we see a support group."

"Oy," Alan smiled, paraphrasing, "the pupil doth overtake his teacher."