Chances

Author: Dragon's Daughter 1980

Spoilers: Season 1

Pairing: Don/Terry

Disclaimer: CBS has ownership over Numb3rs. That being said, I'm just borrowing the cast for my own enjoyment and I promise to return all characters unharmed.

Author's Note: While I have tried to do some research, I haven't a clue if Yongsan Area is actually located within the city of Seoul or if the Marine Corps helps the South Korean military guard the demilitarized zone. On a more personal note: Happy New Year!


Benson Memorial Hospital
Quantico, Virginia
(6:30 PM, Local Time)

Another day of work done, Jasmine hurried to the hospital. Despite regular phone updates, no one in the office was satisfied or fooled by the bland 'Agent Lake is doing as well as can be expected' that the nurses hoped would soothe their concern. Everyone had seen for themselves the grim faces of the paramedics as they had hurried out of the building, the dry blood pools visible through the interrogation room window if anyone cared to look, and the neon yellow crime scene tape that sealed off the doorway. They knew how serious it was.

But life in the office continued as usual. It had to. The post-raid interrogations went ahead as scheduled, but they were conducted under heavy security with three agents escorting prisoners and a guard in the room at all times. Both veteran and rookie agents were jumpy and hyper-vigilant. It might take weeks or months before the office would return to its relaxed, though professional, atmosphere; or it might just simply take the close of this particular case for everyone to release a sigh of relief and get things back to normal.

After she had gotten into work, Jasmine had spent a few minutes with Lisa, hoping to gauge the younger agent's state of mind. What she found didn't surprise her. While Lisa was able to perform her duties competently, the young woman was still severely shaken. Jasmine made a mental note to confine the other woman to the office until Lisa regained her equilibrium. But that reminder was soon forgotten in her mental chaos.

Her mind was scattered at the moment, pulled this way and that by so many issues, all demanding equal attention. Despite the disorienting events of the previous twenty-four hours, there were two raids planned for that night in coordination with the Virginia State Patrol as well as various local agencies. And while Carl had generously offered to lead the raids (well, if she was honest with herself, he had firmly told her that she was in no condition mentally to lead the operations and she had silently agreed), she was still in charge of making sure that everything, paper-wise, would run smoothly. Thank goodness that whatever hell broke loose in the actual execution of the planned raids would be Carl's problem, not hers.

She was slightly concerned that Eppes had not once called her. Higgins, after he came off guard shift, had told her that the man had spent most of his time wordlessly sitting next to Terry's side. 'Only God knows what he's going through, waiting for her to wake up.'

When Jasmine arrived at the hospital, she looked at Linton, asking him a silent question. He shook his head. 'No change.' She nodded and turned to walk into Terry's private room, nearly running into the nurse who was coming out. Jasmine checked the bedside monitors. 'She looks better, color in her face, a steady heartbeat… Terry, why aren't you waking up?'

"Agent Eppes?" she called quietly.

"Please," he said quietly, turning around in his seat without rising or relinquishing the tight grip he had on Terry's hand, "Don." She smiled back tightly before offering him the same familiarity, "Then please, Jasmine." Her smile disappeared. 'I have to tell him. I've put it off for too long already. He deserves an explanation.' "Visiting hours are almost over," she said, "and I still owe you an explanation for what happened. How about we get you checked into the hotel and talk this over dinner?"

"Thank you," he said, accepting her offer. He looked back at Terry as he stood up slowly, studying her, reassuring himself that it was all right to leave her bedside. He let go of her hand reluctantly. Jasmine could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He wanted to know who did this to his partner and Jasmine needed to come up with a satisfactory answer to that. 'I don't know if I can….'

"All right," he said, signaling his readiness to leave. She waited for him to pick up his suit jacket from the back of his chair before she led the way out of the hospital.


Southern Oasis
Quantico, Virginia
(7:30 PM, Local Time)

The two of them ended up in the back booth of her favorite restaurant, sipping coffee while they waited for their dinner. She had been silent while she drove him to the hotel and helped him check in, trying to gather and organize her thoughts. He patiently waited for her to speak. 'He seems to have all the patience in the world.' When Jasmine was sure she had all of her emotions under control, she took a sip of her coffee, sighed and began.

"About two months ago, the agent in charge of leading the profiling classes at the Academy took an emergency personal leave of absence. A family member was in the hospital and he needed to be there for his family. Various agents filled in for him while the search for a temporary replacement went on. As you know, we eventually offered the position to Agent Lake. She agreed to lead seminars on profiling and forensic psychology for one month while we searched for a permanent replacement.

"At the same time, we were in the midst of a large investigation," she said, silently adding, 'We still are.' "I can't go into details here, but we were preparing to make a bust when she arrived. Knowing that profiling was her area of expertise, we approached her for help in conducting a few interrogations for us. She agreed." 'Why did she have to agree? I know she came because of the investigation, but I wish she hadn't come, but then again… She would have come anyway… and… If this had to happen to someone, Terry wouldn't let anyone take her place…She would not change a thing, just like if I was in her position, I wouldn't let someone take my place… I just…Why did any of this have to happen?'

"Last night, when one of the suspects was being removed to lock-up, he managed to grab another agent's gun." 'Kirsch, how could I have forgotten him? Carl put him on leave. He's so shaken. I hope he's handling this all right…. This isn't his fault. And I should…I wish I could tell him for sure that Terry's going to be okay. The brass better not chew him out for my mistakes. He's a good man and a good agent; this was my mistake.' "There was a struggle between the three of them for control." Jasmine looked down at her coffee mug, unable to look Don in the eye as a wave of guilt washed over her. She could barely make herself heard as she forced the next words out. "She was shot at close range in the chest."

"And the suspect?" he asked, sounding surprisingly composed. She quietly cleared her throat before she tried to answer, "He was subdued. As I've said before, he will be tried for assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder, and I have no doubt he will be convicted." 'Because I know the team won't rest until he's behind bars. And no righteous citizen is going to acquit him once they see that tape.' She sighed mentally to herself. 'I'll have to call the D.A.'s office on Monday. See if they've decided yet on charges…what am I thinking? Of course, Dunne will file. It'll be personal to him. It's personal to all of us.'

"I see," said Don, his emotional control slipping slightly. She could see the anger and pain in his eyes. 'How could I allow this to happen under my supervision, put Terry and Don through this? And how could that scum of the Earth think he could—' She stopped herself. Unless she wanted to go through a breakdown in public, she couldn't afford to continue that train of thought.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, closing the conversation between the two of them as she saw the waitress approach. He just nodded. Jasmine looked down at her plate; food wasn't truly on her mind, but she ate anyway, knowing that it had been hours since she had eaten. The silence that reigned for the rest of the meal wasn't oppressive or guilt-leaden. Instead, it was reflective and uneasy, precisely what she was feeling herself. After dinner, she drove him back to the hotel, promising to pick him up at eight the next morning. But instead of going home to an empty apartment, she went back to the office. 'Finish up on some paperwork, get things done, and maybe, maybe I can work myself to sleep.'


Quarters of Major and Mrs. William Lake
Yongsan Area, United States Army
Seoul, South Korea
(6:00 PM Local Time)

"Honey, I'm home!"

"Kitchen!" his wife called back. He walked further into the house, dropping his cap on the hallway table. Major William "Bill" Lake stepped into the kitchen and, standing behind her, wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, "What's my sweetheart up to?"

"Hi Honey," said Patricia Lake as she paused in her cheese-shredding to turn around and drop a kiss on his cheek before she returned to making dinner. "How was work today? Chicken Lasagna for dinner."

"Pretty good," he replied as he divested himself of his jacket and carefully draped it over the back of a chair. Patricia had roundly scolded him once for hanging his jacket in a way that left a small crease on the cloth; he did not plan on incurring her wifely wrath more than once. "Yours?"

"Same old, same old," she replied, teasing him. "It's not flu season anymore, so it's just the usual cuts and scrapes at the clinic." She looked over at him, "By the way, a message came for you while you were out."

"Oh?" He washed his hands in the kitchen sink, rinsing off the soapsuds with luxuriously cool water. "Was it Havers?" he asked, naming one of his close friends in the service. His wife shook her head.

"No, someone named Lewis, I think. I'm not quite sure; he left a message with Staff Sergeant Parks because you were on duty. Do we know anyone named Lewis?" He searched his memory and came up blank with any familiar faces. He dried off his hands on a dishrag.

"I remember a Lewis from Basic Training," he said slowly, replacing the cloth to its usual place by the sink "But I heard he didn't reenlist after his tour. So, no, I don't think we do, at least, no one from stateside that would call us. Did he say what he wanted?"

"I don't know. The only thing Parks said was that it sounded urgent, but with the new orders…."

"Yeah, all right," he picked up the phone and dialed the number to the base's mail center.

"Mail Center," a young man answered, "PFC Jones speaking."

"This is Major Lake, I understand that someone called and left a message for me."

"Hold on a second, please, sir." There was a few seconds pause while the enlisted man searched for the information. "A Jasmine Lewis with the FBI called at 1025; she wanted to talk to you."

"Did she say why?" asked William, his voice sharp with sudden fear. His mind went instantly to the safety of his little sister. Patricia looked at him as she put the lasagna pan in the oven, her eyes questioning. For a Marine, he was a gentle soldier who rarely raised his voice without reason.

"No sir; it doesn't say."

"What's the number?" he asked, uncapping a pen and cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could write. The private first class quickly gave it to him. William recognized the area code as belonging to Quantico, Virginia, the place where both Terry and he had trained in their respective careers. For a brief second he wondered why an FBI agent stationed across the country from his little sister would be calling him. 'I don't get why a woman from Quantico would be calling me when Terry's in Los Angeles. If anything happened to her, it'd be her boss Don calling. At least, that's what she said when —' He swore softly under his breath when he remembered his last conversation with his sister. 'Damn it, she's in Virginia. She'd better be all right. If she isn't….' He hated feeling helpless.

"Sir?" asked the startled soldier on the other end of the line. At the same time Patricia approached him with a concerned expression, "William?"

"Thank you," he said curtly and disconnected the call before the other man could say anything else. He immediately dialed the number he had scrawled on the notepad.

"William, what's wrong?"

"It's Terry."

"Oh God," Patricia might have said something else, but William didn't hear her. Instead, he listened impatiently to the ringing tone of the phone line. It seemed like forever before someone answered the phone, though it was in all likelihood two, maybe three, rings in reality.

"Lewis," a woman's voice answered with authority.

"This is Major William Lake," he forced himself to be calm. "Is this Agent Lewis?"

"Yes, you're Terry's brother." It was a statement of fact. Before he could demand news about his sister, the other woman said firmly, "Your sister will be fine. She's at Benson Memorial right now. Her condition has stabilized considerably since she was shot on Friday night."

"Friday night," he repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing. He demanded righteously, "It took you three days to contact me?"

"Sir?" the woman was politely confused. "I'm sorry that I didn't call sooner, but it took me a while to find your information and, while I know it's not an excuse, she was injured only last night…"

"International dateline," murmured Patricia, glancing at the clock and doing some quick math in her head. "It's about 11:00 at night on Saturday over there. You woke the poor man up!"

William didn't bother to correct his wife in her assumption about Agent Lewis' gender. Instead he asked, "What happened? And how serious is it?"

"She'll be fine," she replied after a slight pause which told Bill that she was being evasive. He bit back an expletive. He hated being cuddled by civilians.

"With all due respect, Ma'am," his voice was steel, "I've been a Marine for over a decade. I think I can handle it."

"She was shot in the chest," she said softly after a long pause, "but the doctors were able to stop the bleeding and remove the bullet. She did spend last night in the ICU, but she's in Recovery in stable condition right now."

"Shot in the —" he repeated numbly. He had seen that happen before in his years in the service. It had not been pretty. His heart skipped a beat as his mind imposed the image of his little sister's face on the body of a ghost. "Is she awake?" he choked out. 'Terry, please be okay. I need to talk to you, to hear your voice, to banish these damn ghosts back to where they belong.' Seeing her husband in obvious distress, Patricia began to rub his arm soothingly.

"No," Lewis answered softly," Not yet."

"Is she in a coma?"

"We don't think so," was the steady reply. "It may just be that she has a stronger reaction to anesthetics than most people."

"Wait," his mind backtracked for a moment, "What do you mean 'it took you a while' to find my contact information?"

"Oh… I thought you knew…" It was the first time that he realized how exhausted the woman sounded. But his inner fears and Older Brother instincts overrode common courtesy and he pressed, "Knew what?"

"I'm sorry; I'm very scattered right now, but I thought you knew. You're not Terry's designated next-of-kin." That rattled him and prompted William to ask sharply, "Who is?"

"Well, her partner."

"Partner?" 'Now who the hell could that be?' William frowned in thought. 'She hasn't mentioned any boyfriends lately… not to me at least. But it isn't like she'd tell Angie…would she?'

"Yes," Lewis sighed, "Don Eppes, her partner from Los Angeles."

"Oh," was all William was able to say. 'Why the hell did she designate some stranger to be her next-of-kin instead of us, her family? Don't we deserve to know firsthand if she's hurt, or God forbid, killed in the line of duty?' However, he refrained from taking his fear-fueled anger out on the female agent. "Don't shoot the messenger" was a lesson he had learned over the years.

"I'm sorry," he ran a hand through his military haircut. "I just…"

"It's all right," she replied soothingly. "I've just given you distressing news. I've had worse. Now, I promise I will call you the moment she wakes up, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, please, Agent Lewis."

"It's not a problem. You can always reach me with this number unless I'm in the middle of something important."

"All right," he sighed. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"You're welcome. Good night, Major," she replied.

"Good night," he said and hung up. He stood staring at the phone motionlessly, his mind still trying to process the news. Patricia looked at him expectantly as she drew him to sit on the couch.

"Well?" she prompted him after they had sat in silence for a few moments. "Is Terry all right?"

"Yes, no, I—she was shot in the chest."

Patricia muttered a short prayer under breath before asking, "Is she —?"

"The woman said that she will be. She'll call me when Terry wakes up." 'And then I'll be having a long talk to her about family.'

That can't be all that's bothering you," said his wife after a moment. Leave it to her to dig deeper into his mind and motives. William sighed heavily. 'Leave it to me to marry a perceptive woman. She's not going to stop until I tell her everything.'

"I'm not her next-of-kin," he said abruptly. "A man named Don Eppes is."

"Don Eppes?" repeated Patricia with a raised eyebrow. He couldn't tell if it was in surprise to the name or his reaction. "What's wrong with that? He's Terry's partner, right?"

"Right," he answered shortly.

"So what's the problem? His name has come up several times in the past, don't you remember? All in positive terms?"

"The problem, Patricia, is that none of her family is her next-of-kin."

Patricia sighed, "She trusts him, right?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

"They've been partners for years; so he's not a stranger to her."

"Yes…"

"He was, until recently, in the same city as her, right?"

"Yes…"

"She chose him knowing he would make the right decision for her."

"She better have."

"Have some faith in her, will you? Do you trust him to do that?"

"No."

"Is that Major Lake talking or Bill the older brother talking?" The disgruntled look her husband gave her told Patricia she wasn't going to receive a reply on that question. She switched to another line of questioning, "Would you rather your parents to hear about this from some stranger?"

"No…"

"Do you think Angie would be able to handle it?"

"Maybe," he sighed.

"But you think it's perfectly logical for you to be contacted first, despite the fact we're a twelve-hour flight from stateside, never mind Virginia," she said, her voice telling him precisely how illogical she thought he was being.

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Honey," she took his hand in hers, "we're in South Korea. If anything happened to her, you wouldn't be able to make any crucial decisions for her immediately." There were a few minutes of silence as he mulled the logic of that over.

"You're right," he finally conceded, albeit grudgingly. "I just… How in the world could this happen? She's supposed to be…" His frustration robbed him of words.

"Honey, don't you think I worry about you every day? This posting is 'supposed to be safe' compared to Iraq or Afghanistan. But for all I know, tomorrow North Korea will go "To hell with the treaties" and invade. And then we both know how safe your job would be. Yes, this is supposed to be a safe place, stateside is supposed to be a safe place; but both of us know that there are no completely safe places. You're both in dangerous professions, but you both are fully aware of it. Terry isn't just your little sister anymore. She's a grown woman, more than capable of taking care of herself."

"I know," he sighed, "but I can't stop thinking of her as fourteen, watching me as I'm teaching her how to defend herself."

"I know," said Patricia quietly, patting his arm.

"I just… I just want to hear her voice again and know she's okay."

"I'm sure that Agent Eppes will make sure that she's well taken care of," she said reassuringly. "And we'll just keep on praying."

"The kids will be home soon. We'll have to tell them somehow…."

"We'll do it together, and we'll tell them that she's just hurt. Terry's a fighter; we both know that. She'll pull through. Don't doubt her."

"I know."


Benson Memorial Hospital
Quantico, Virginia
(5:58 AM, Local Time)

Lisa entered the hospital with a brisk, authoritive stride. She acted like she belonged there and no one questioned her presence as she moved through the busy corridors. It was that special time in the morning, when the sun's rays were just beginning to peak over the horizon, offering breathtaking views of Nature's splendor. The clear, cloudless skies promised a beautiful Sunday that should be spent with family and friends, relaxing on a blanket cuddled next to her husband, picnicking on the grass next to a lake where the cool breeze provided relief from the comfortable warmth of the summer sun. But today was not that sort of day for her. Today, Lisa was far from relaxed.

Her footsteps were sharp on the linoleum floor and she moved without any trace of her usual grace. Her steps slowed and softened as she neared Terry's room. She nodded at Linton who had looked up sharply at her appearance.

"How is she?" she called quietly as she approached her colleague, dreading the answer.

"The same," the older agent answered, vacating the chair for Lisa. "She still hasn't woken up." He checked his watch. "Meeker will be here soon." She nodded sharply, dropping her shoulder bag next to his. She sat down.

"I think Meeker and Jasmine are getting worried," Linton confided softly, leaning against the wall. "She was supposed to wake up yesterday."

"Everyone reacts differently," she said, trying to impart hope when all she felt was suffocating dread. "She's stable, right?"

"Yeah," the older man sighed. "Thank God for that." He glanced down at his watch. "I guess I'd better go. Lindsey will want me to help out." But he didn't make any move to leave. "I'll ask the pastor to say a prayer for her today at Services."

"We all are," she replied softly. He nodded, picked up his bag and coat, and left to rejoin the world beyond white-washed corridors and the smell of disinfectants. Lisa sighed heavily and leaned down, unzipping her bag and taking out a textbook. She settled in for hours of watching and waiting. 'Terry's got to be okay. She's going to be fine. Why can't I just make myself believe that?'


(7:00 AM, Local Time)

Lisa looked up from her book when she heard footsteps approaching, her hands automatically tightening their grip on the book. But she relaxed as she saw a doctor and nurse approached Terry's door. His name tag read 'Dr. H. Meeker' and she nodded in greeting. The man inclined his head slightly in return as he walked into Terry's room. Feeling a need to move, Lisa stood up, put her textbook on her seat, and walked to the doorway. She watched as Meeker read over her colleague's medical chart, took her vital signs and gave quiet instructions to the nurse. He gently touched Terry's arm, murmuring something to her before he turned away from the bed. Lisa quickly stepped out of the doorway. As he walked past her to continue his rounds, she impulsively said, "Doctor….," catching his attention.

But she found she didn't know to say when Dr. Meeker turned around to face her. The older man gave her a look, one that said to simply explain and not to ask. Lisa cleared her throat and tried again. "I was there," she said, her voice frail. His years of experience allowed him to understand what she couldn't bring herself to say. Meeker put a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Agent Lake will be fine," he said gently. "She's still critical, I won't deny it, but she's been stable for a long time. What happened to her was a shock to her body. Even with the transfusions, she still needs time to replenish the amount of blood she lost and start the healing process. When her body's ready, I expect she'll wake up on her own."

"And if she doesn't?" she asked, voicing her deepest fear.

"Then I order a few tests, but I doubt I'll need to. There's no swelling or heavy bruising that I can see that would cause worry. Everyone reacts differently to incidents like these."

She nodded. He could tell that his words had failed to completely convince her of a positive outcome to what she had experienced. Meeker smiled at the young woman, imparting a personal thought of his to her, "I've been a doctor here for over a decade and I'll tell you one thing: of all the agents that I've treated over the years, women like you and Agent Lake are some of the most resilient people I've ever met. You don't give up easily and you rarely back down. Agent Lake will be fine, trust me."

"I trust you," Lisa said softly, not realizing she had vocalized her thoughts.

"Good," he nodded, patting her arm gently. "I have to go." He studied her. "Do you need anything?" Lisa shook her head as she drew away from him and sat back down in her chair.

"I'll be fine now," she said with a weak smile.

"All right," replied Meeker, giving her one last concerned look before he moved on to the next patient. Lisa sighed and turned her attention to the textbook she had brought with her in relation to her latest case. It was some time later that Jasmine had arrived at the hospital with Terry's next-of-kin. After a few brief words, the man vanished into the room and Jasmine went to the office. Waiting with patience and faith, Lisa returned to keeping a quiet, watchful vigil outside her friend's door.


It was a soft persistent beeping that drew her attention from the depths of darkness and warmth curled around her left hand. It reminded Terry of when her kitten sought to be petted, nudging Terry's hand with its head repeatedly. However, this warmth was different, yet familiar. She searched through her mind, trying to pinpoint the reason for her recognition. But her mind, oddly scattered for some reason, came up with nothing. Something played at the edge of her memory. Without knowing why, Terry pushed it away. She had a feeling she didn't want to deal with it just now. 'We're going to take good care of you.' Someone had said that to her, but why?

Deciding that it would be a good time to find some answers, she opened her eyes and was greeted with an unexpected sight. Don was sitting next to her bedside, reading a stack of papers. Or trying to anyway, he was fidgeting slightly, a habit of his when he was nervous or troubled. A small part of her registered that he was holding her hand, but she was too concerned by his appearance to care. She had never seen his face look so drawn and haggard since his mother died. His eyes were bloodshot and it was clear that he was anxious.

"Don?" Her voice rasped slightly in her throat and she was surprised at how weak she sounded. 'What happened to me?' She turned toward him, trying to articulate her questions, but failing. Don's head jerked up at the sound of her voice. He looked at her and sighed quietly in relief. Putting down his papers, he leaned forward and smiled, putting all of his usual charm into it. Like always, it never failed to cause her heart to flutter slightly.

"Hi there, Terry," he said softly. He gently brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, his fingers lingering briefly behind her ear. As the shadow of his hand fell away, she blinked in the morning sunshine. Her eyes adjusted to the lighting. The ivory-colored walls and faint smell of bleach in the air told her that she was the hospital. 'Did I push myself too far? I remember being tired. Maybe I collapsed at work? But I don't remember being that tired. Jasmine would have sent me home before that and I wouldn't have argued. Why is he so worried about me if that's the case? I mean, he wouldn't have flown all the way here if it wasn't serious….' It took a second for her logic to catch up with her thoughts. 'Wait. I'm in Quantico. What's he doing here?' She felt tired, but it was a heaviness that urged her to rest. It was slightly difficult for her to draw breath, as if her ribs were bound. 'Mom has asthma. But my physical should have caught that and why would it happen now? Did a raid go wrong? But Jasmine… at least, I think I was just doing interrogations for her. I wouldn't have been on a raid.' She took as deep of a breath as she dared and focused her energy on moving her lips.

"I thought you were in L.A," she said, taking care not to slur her words. She half-expected him not to answer. 'Maybe I'm slightly delusional right now.'

"I was," he replied quietly and slowly. "I came here to see you."

"Oh," she whispered. 'Why would he come here to see me? Does he know about…?' Without realizing it, her eyes were closing and lethargy was spreading over her. He brushed his hand against her cheek, his voice soft and tender, "Get some rest. I'll still be here later." She nodded, not wanting to speak. 'This must be a bizarre dream. Don's never been this expressive towards me.'


(8:23 AM, Local Time)

Lisa released a low sigh of relief when she heard two voices speaking from within the hospital room. She waited until silence descended again before peeking in the doorway, nearly tipping her own chair over. Terry was fast asleep and so was her next-of-kin. The man was leaned back in his chair, his body getting some much needed rest after hours of tension. She quietly got up from her chair and entered the room, draping the man's jacket over him. He stirred only slightly. Lisa straightened and moved around him to stand by the bedside. Carefully, she took the older woman's wrist and, feeling Terry's pulse fluttering steadily underneath her fingertips, Lisa allowed herself to relax. She returned to her post outside the door, a comforted smile on her face. 'Meeker was right; looks like today isn't so bad after all.'