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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Sunday had been a nice day, the Eppes men spending the majority of it relaxing, Alan and Charlie quietly talking to Don about how happy they were to have him home and that they hoped he felt the same. Don had looked at them sadly, telling them he loved them, Charlie responding by bouncing a few balloons through the air towards him, telling Don he loved him, too, and that it was a good thing- a happy thing.

Smile.

Don had done just that Sunday morning; waking up to what he called a rainbow on his ceiling, lying on his back with his hands behind his head and watching the varied-colored spheres float about the room, with his younger brother doing the same beside him, their father already downstairs making breakfast. Charlie had told him to make a wish and Don had silently said one, listening as his brother told him that there was always treasure hidden under a rainbow, and then Don had lifted up his head, twisting it and looking around to find it, till Charlie told Don that he didn't have to search for it, that he was the treasure in their house, and he better never forget it.

Smile.

By early evening the balloons were no longer on the ceiling, just hanging a few feet off the floor. Charlie had taken them out of the bedroom to allow them to freely roam about the house, moving to and fro, here and there, as a door opened and another one closed, someone walking nearby stirring the air and their placement in the house. And then Charlie had started playing with some of them in the solarium, dissatisfied that his brother said he loved his family but did not seem happy about his statement, wanting to cheer him, wondering why he was so sad, what was bothering him, but unable to get an answer.

Smile, because I love you.

Before they went to bed, Charlie had gathered the balloons, now sunk to the floor, and placed them into the garage, Don sadly saying goodbye to the rainbow, a momentary stab of fear piercing Charlie's heart as he feared the treasure hidden under it had been taken, too. Only, Don was still there.

Smile.

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Alan stood leaning against the kitchen counter, right eye twitching, his hands running nervously up and down the front of his jeans. Charlie chose to pace; his hands were pressed prayer-like in front of his lips and were bobbing back and forth off of them.

Now it was Monday and anxiety had filled their home once again, brought to them in the form of a short, thin man with small spectacles at the end of his nose and a black suit that was so stiff he looked like he was wearing cardboard. The court investigator, Mr. Conrad Dean, had arrived promptly at eleven, entering the Eppes' home and ignoring their greeting, coolly walking upstairs, the sound of doors opening and shutting as he entered and exited each room. Then down to the first floor he bounded, brusquely passing Charlie and Alan without a word, into the kitchen, where the Eppes could hear cabinets being searched as well as the refrigerator. Finally, the investigator made a curt review of the other rooms in the house, walking briskly from one to another, taking notes on a clipboard, not even looking at Don, who sat frightened on the couch in the solarium.

His examination of the house over, Mr. Dean asked for a room where he could talk privately to Don; when Alan stated his son would be most comfortable in the solarium, Dean brushed him and Charlie into the kitchen, telling them to remain there until they were called. His demeanor changed, however, when he started to address Don. He sat in the recliner, facing him, his posture and facial expression softening, talking so quietly Don had to lean forward to hear him and forcing him to give the investigator his full attention in the process.

Don had been anxious all morning, not wanting to meet another stranger. His mommy had told him it would be alright, that it didn't matter what he said, as long as he didn't bring up her secrets. Other than that, he could tell the man the truth, that he loved his father and brother and that they took good care of him. Knowing that he did not have much to remember helped stay Don's nerves somewhat, but when the court investigator had arrived, the man's presence caused Don to realize that this would be the last day he was spending with his family.

And it made him sad and nervous, not wanting to leave them and unsure exactly how Mommy would treat him when he went home to live with her again.

Don had known the day was not long in coming. It was the reason he had cried so badly on Saturday; he had felt he'd been working hard and deserved a day to play baseball at the park with Charlie. His brother and daddy had said no at first, justified in their unwillingness to trust him to stick by Charlie and not run away again. But they had made that initial decision because they thought there would be plenty more days to go to the park, and Don had known otherwise. So it was the knowledge that his time with Charlie was limited that had propelled Don to use every skill he knew at pleading and begging and looking miserable to convince his brother they should go; Don had known that once Charlie said yes, it would not take his brother too much time to get their daddy to agree.

Charlie was just smart like that.

Mr. Dean asked Don two more questions and then told him he had done a fine job, peering over his glasses and deciding that the man before him looked in good health and did not show any signs of abuse.

The court investigator headed towards the front door, calling to Alan and Charlie. He wrote for several minutes before addressing the two nervous men. Standing casually, completely opposite from when he'd first appeared, Dean told them, "You two have done a splendid job on this house. I am used to bars being placed on the bathroom walls and up the stairs, but the levers on the doorknobs are especially nice."

Charlie smiled, relaxing along with his father. "I've bought a lot of assistive devices like those. We've been slowly utilizing them one by one."

"Yes, yes" Dean replied, "I noticed the array of tools you had laid out in the solarium. The holding glove is very useful. My aunt's had one for several years- can grip a pool cue with it. Wouldn't think it, but she actually won a few trophies wearing one."

"Well, of course," Alan piped in, "Don won't have to wear one forever. He does daily exercises to help him improve his grip. The doctors expect a near or complete recovery."

"Yes," Dean stated, "I've heard that before." At the Eppes' crestfallen faces, he apologized. "I'm not saying that it won't happen in this case, but too many others have told me the same thing and they don't bother with any of the new assistive devices. Too late they realize how effective they can be in helping their loved one be independent and making their own lives easier in the process. I'm glad that you haven't fallen into the trap of believing Don will become well overnight."

"Oh, we know Don's rehabilitation is going to take a while," Charlie assured him, "like you said, though, we want to help him be as independent as possible in the meantime. He really likes to be able to do all that he can on his own."

Dean nodded, "I can see that you are trying to motivate him to do exactly that. I'm supposing that is the purpose of the charts."

Charlie and Alan were surprised the man had noticed them and guessed what they were for. Alan said, "You are correct. He receives a star for every task he completes and then a reward at the end of the day. Don did so well last week that Charlie even took him to the park on Saturday."

Dean put his clipboard into a satchel, "Don mentioned that to me. Fresh air is good for the body and the soul- I'm glad you're not keeping him locked inside."

"No," Charlie frowned, "We would never lock Don away."

Dean grabbed his satchel and went to the door, telling them, "Well, if the judge says Don will need a conservator, my report will not adversely affect the court assigning him to you." He stopped in the process of exiting through the door. "Of course, I'm not supposed to tell you that, so please keep it strictly between me and you."

Charlie and Alan said it was no problem. They watched from the door as the little man climbed into a huge Cadillac, barely able to see over the front dash, and drove off.

Alan eagerly called Johnson, telling him that the interview had gone well. His lawyer chuckled, reassuring his client that of course it had. Now they just needed to make their brief appearance in court in order for Charlie to be named conservator.

However, Alan wanted to be cautious, remembering their prior visit to the court. "What if Thompson contests again? Maybe she found out something about Charlie."

"Like what, Alan? You said so yourself that he has an impeccable past, present, and will have an impeccable future. That woman can complain all she wants- Charlie has first right to claim Don and the law will stand behind him."

"But what if"-

"Alan," Johnson sighed, "if she stops Charlie's petition, we'll fight it this time by appealing the judge's ruling. It means you will all have to appear in a courtroom complete with a jury, but I think it would be a much better route than applying again- which we won't have to do, let me add, because we are going to win."

"Well, as for appearing tomorrow, Don is not going to; he's staying home. I don't want to put him through another court proceeding."

"I'm fine with that, Alan, and Salem will be, too. He already talked to Don at the first hearing and the court investigator will have asked any further questions that he needed answered."

"Good, then I'll leave him home for sure. Back to Thompson, do you have any idea what reason she'll give for contesting this time?" Alan's chipper mood was beginning to wan as he reminded himself the court investigator had not given them custody of Don and that they still had the final hearing to overcome.

"I don't know, Alan, her lawyer hasn't filed any papers as of yet. It appears they're going to wait till the last minute."

"Then how will you know what we're up against?"

"I'll have my runner get me a copy before we appear in front of Judge Salem. I assure you, I won't need much time to plan a strategy- give me ten minutes with the papers and I'll know exactly what to do." Johnson spoke unabashedly. "I'm just that good."

"Well, if you say so…" Alan said doubtfully.

"Alan, you need to trust your lawyer and you need to trust the legal system. We're both set up to work for you. Now, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

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Charlie stood behind Alan, waiting his turn to hug his brother goodbye. When his father stepped aside, Charlie slipped his arms around Don and held him, his head next to Don's, taking a deep breath so he could remember the baby powder scent the rest of the day, a new and pleasantly fragrant reminder of his brother. When he released Don, Charlie could see the tears in his brother's eyes. He wiped them gently away.

"We'll be back soon, Don. I promise."

Don had no doubts about that. He was sad that he wouldn't be there for his family's return.

"I love you," he told Charlie.

"Love you, too," Charlie smiled reassuringly.

Alan was waiting for them to finish saying goodbye. Charlie put his hands in his pockets and lowered his head. It seemed silly they were taking so long- he and his father would only be gone a few hours. Looking out the front window, Alan commented at the weather outside, returning to stand besides his sons.

"Figures it would rain," he sighed.

There was a torrential downpour surrounding their home, making it almost impossible to see outside. Don looked out the window past Charlie's shoulder. He licked his lips, cringing when a bolt of lightning appeared outside. Charlie quickly stood up and pulled the curtains shut, but he could not keep the storm's presence away. The wind was too strong, shaking the window panes and making them hum longingly, the thunder continuing to rebound off the clouds and batter against the house, the lightning charging the air in the room with electricity.

"We better get going," Alan said. He placed a loving hand on Don's cheek, giving him a final kiss on the temple. He turned to Charlie. "Let's head through the garage- the side door is closer to the car."

They headed through the solarium to the connecting door to the garage, Larry and Don trailing. "Now, you have my cell phone number and Charlie's, too?" Alan asked Larry for the twentieth time.

"Yes," Larry replied, "and the number to the court house and your attorney's cell, too."

Twenty dying balloons still lay on the floor of the garage, Charlie not having the time to discard them. He and his father made their way past them and opened the door nearest the driveway and their car, pulling their jacket lapels up around their faces. "I'll go first," Alan shouted above the howling wind, "and unlock the doors. At least one of us won't have to be soaked."

He ran out to the car before Charlie could protest, and fumbled with his keys, cold water drenching him through to his soul.

Charlie looked one last time at his brother, mouthing smile. Then he ran towards the car, jumping over several puddles and landing in one, six balloons blowing out of the garage after him. When he jumped into the passenger seat next to his father, Charlie wiped the condensation from the windshield in front of him and watched as the balloons were caught up in a harsh gust of air, his eyes following them as they were carried away and disappeared, far from the world below and never to be seen again.

He sat back, wondering if it was an omen.

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Charlie and Alan found themselves sitting in the last pew in court, looking about for Dr. Thompson and her lawyer. It disheartened them to see her appear, well ahead of time, flashing them a sharp smile as she headed to the front row.

"Where's Johnson?" Charlie asked nervously. His father had explained the attorney had to wait until that morning to see the papers Thompson had filed with the court. Fairfield had indeed waited until the last moment to put them in.

"He's out in the hall someplace, waiting for his runner." Alan tried to pull at his slacks, but he found they immoveable, so wet that they stuck to his legs. He gave up when the bailiff called the court into session and Judge Salem appeared with a fresh bottle of antacids in his hand.

They sat through four cases before theirs was called. Alan was nervous now, not seeing his attorney anywhere. But the bailiff called them again, and they had to move down to the front of the court room, Dr. Thompson and Gordon Fairfield waiting for them at the opposite table to their own, an eerie reenactment of the week before, sans Don and Johnson, Charlie sitting where his father had previously sat.

"Where the hell is Johnson?" Salem asked the Eppes. He accepted a set of papers from his assistant.

Alan was about to say he didn't know when the door of the court opened and he turned to see Johnson quickly coming down the middle aisle. The attorney dropped to the seat beside Charlie, looking worn and drawn. For the first time since they had met him, both Charlie and Alan could guess the man's true age had to be somewhere in the early fifties.

They did not think this could be good news.

The bailiff swore the members of each party in, and then the judge flipped through his papers, wanting to re-familiarize himself with the case.

"What took you so long?" Alan whispered to his attorney, leaning behind Charlie.

"I was contacting the court in Nevada City." Johnson's hair was disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly.

Alan and Charlie frowned.

Something was definitely wrong.

"What's in Nevada City?" Alan said quietly, his eyes on the judge, not wanting to interrupt him when he decided to start the proceedings.

"It's the county seat for all of Nevada County," Johnson replied as he sat back in his chair, talking out of the side of his mouth. He could not look his client in the eyes.

"So, what about it?" Charlie was turned towards Johnson. His stomach was beginning to feel sour.

Johnson nervously flipped through a set of papers in front of him. He glanced over at Fairfield, who sat confidently at the table next to theirs, staring ahead. Johnson's eyes fell to the papers in front of him, knowing that despite his prior boast ten minutes would not be enough time for him to solve the fiasco that awaited Alan and Charlie- there would never be enough time, because what was about to occur was already written in stone and was just waiting to happen.

"Harvey!" Alan barked.

The attorney startled in his seat. He finally looked at Alan, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Alan. I would have never expected…would never have thought in a million years…" He turned away. "I've never dealt with people like this before, Alan"-

He was interrupted by Judge Salem. Charlie and Alan straightened up, their attention on the man before them.

Judge Salem slowly started. "This proceeding concerns the petition for permanent papers of conservatorship of Don Adam Eppes, by his brother, Professor Charles Eppes." Salem's eyes slid over to Charlie. "There have been two previous hearings concerning this matter. I sat at both of them, granting temporary papers of conservatorship to Alan Eppes at the first one, and then reversing my ruling at the second, as Alan Eppes was deemed a poor choice to make decisions concerning the monetary and physical welfare of Don Eppes, here forward in these proceedings to be referred to as simply Don."

Alan gripped the edges of the table when he heard judge's condemning words.

Harvey Johnson was barely listening to what Salem was saying. He was thinking hard about his options and whether or not there was anything he could do to stop the final ruling.

"Now, I requested that the attorney representing both Alan Eppes, and the new petitioner, Charles Eppes, provide me with a new evaluation from a court-approved physician, one who would provide an unbiased opinion as to whether Don is in need of a conservator." He shuffled through some papers, pulling out one and placing it in front of him. "According to Dr. M. Fillmore, Don is currently suffering from several mentally and physically incapacitating conditions, the combination of which prohibits him from caring for his own personal needs. So, in that, this court recognizes the need of Don Eppes to be provided a conservator."

Harvey Johnson suddenly stood up. "Excuse me, your honor," he said, louder than he had intended, "at this time we would like to request another hearing date, as I have just acquired a copy of the papers that were filed by Gordon Fairfield on behalf of his client, Dr. Melinda Thompson. We would like the new date in order to have adequate time to review these papers and prepare a response to the information that they contain."

Judge Salem's entire four-hundred plus body seemed to shift forward across the bench, as if bearing down on the attorney. "I think I warned you, Johnson," he heaved at him, "that you better do your job. Apparently you didn't, or at least I highly doubt your clients will think you did."

Alan's left leg began to shake up and down; he gripped Charlie's arm, panic setting in. After placing a hand over his father's, Charlie froze in his seat, willing his mind to stay in the room and not drift away on the billowing numbers that floated above his thoughts and invited him to escape.

"But your honor," Johnson fairly begged, "Fairfield filed his papers too late for me to"-

"No excuses," Salem barked. "Besides, what difference does it make when they were filed? You know the law and what I'll have to rule. What's the point of giving you one more minute, whether alone several days or weeks? My decision will not change."

Johnson knew the judge spoke the truth. The time to change the course of the day's events had ended the previous Friday. He sat down, keeping his face forward, unable to answer when Charlie bent his head towards him and asked what the judge was talking about, knowing his client would have his answer shortly.

Salem pulled out a separate set of papers. "Now, as regards who should be named conservator. Don was interviewed at his home by a court investigator, Mr. Conrad Dean, at the bequest of this court. The first thing we should address is Don's absence in the courtroom today." Alan was about to speak, but Johnson saw him from the corner of his eye and finally turned to look at his client, waving him silent. Salem continued, "Mr. Dean states that he asked the proposed conservatee if he would like to attend this hearing and received a negative response. With Don not in attendance today and no one to represent him, it falls upon this court to take into consideration the facts it has before it in order to make the best decision concerning his placement, and see to it that it is carried through whether he agrees with the ruling of the court or not, as his current judgment is clearly impaired."

While Salem flipped another page and perused it, Charlie whispered to Johnson, "We represent Don. Doesn't he know that?"

"Not legally," Johnson quietly told him, "I represent you and Alan. In a sense, the law is representing Don."

"Should we have brought him with us, then?" Charlie hoped they hadn't made a mistake in leaving Don at home.

"No, Charlie," Johnson sighed, "it doesn't make a difference if Don's here or not. The judge is going to rule according to who is first on the list of people able to request conservatorship- not according to your brother's preference."

Before Charlie could respond, Salem started talking again. "Mr. Dean states in his report that Don told him that his current placement was satisfactory. Dean further wrote in his summary that the home is set up to accommodate his needs, speaking highly of Alan and Charles Eppes."

Alan and Charlie leaned forward, thankful Don had not sad anything to counteract their petition.

"However," Salem said, "the law is clear in prioritizing to whom papers of conservatorship should be assigned when two separate parties are requesting to be named as conservator of the same person, the list beginning with spouse, than going down the line with adult child next, then legal parent, sibling and so on. In this case, there are two parties filing a petition to be named conservator of Don Eppes, and they are Dr. Melinda Thompson and Professor Charles Eppes."

Alan's fingers dug into Charlie's arm, both men unable to breath.

"According to the report of the court investigator, when Don was asked if he would be amicable to living with his only legal parent, he responded positively. Dean also states that he saw no signs of prior abuse and was not informed of any by Don when he questioned him about it."

Salem coughed and then he dropped two antacids into his mouth before finishing.

"With this interview in mind, and being aware that the first person on the court's list of people who should be assigned conservatorship of Don Eppes' is his legal parent"-

We won, Charlie and Alan thought at once-

-"it is this court's ruling that Don Adam Eppes, now legally known as Don Adam Thompson, shall be placed under the care of his mother, Dr. Melinda Thompson, to whom permanent papers of conservatorship shall be granted, in effect as of this moment."

Gavel down.

Bang, Bang.