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: Indeed, it has been a long road to the end of this story and I hope you have enjoyed the journey as much as I have. I don't know if this is the sure, final end to 'Chances;' there is a partially written chapter/epilogue that takes place further in the future. If you wish, I will post it. Though I say it every time, I truly do thank all my readers and reviewers for their continued support. Thank you so much!


I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today.

One Hundred Poems from the Japanese, Kenneth Rexroth

Amita walked into the cluttered solarium, the winter sunlight streaming in through the windows. The room never failed to bring a smile to her face and relaxation to her soul. It reminded her of so many moments with Charlie: lazy afternoons spent discussing the latest mathematical theories, stolen moments of passionate kisses while grading papers, quiet nights gazing at the stars and whispered confessions of love in the darkness….

Sitting down in 'their' chair with her latest copy of her thesis draft, Amita almost immediately put her binder in her lap and leaned forward toward the small table. A flash of light caught her gaze when she had leaned back in the chair and it had awakened her curiosity. She moved one of Charlie's notebooks out of the way. Her eyes widened when her fingers alighted on cool metal. With delicate care, she drew the object out of its hiding place and held it up to the light. A small gasp of surprise escaped her when the crown of three small diamonds caught the sunshine and threw a brilliant prism of light around the room. 'This can't be Charlie's, so… oh my…' A smile curved her lips before she laughed quietly. 'I wonder when he's going to ask.' It occurred to Amita that Charlie had told her earlier in the week that the whole family was going out on Friday night. When she had asked why, he had simply smiled and kissed her gently on the cheek. The satisfied look on his face when he moved away from her had told her that she wasn't going to get any more information from him.

A creak of the floorboards made Amita look sharply towards the doorway, her every sense on alert. She put the ring back on the table. She knew Alan was in the backyard, tidying up the garden for winter, and she also knew the backdoor squeaked when it was opened, but she hadn't heard anything. Besides, Alan always called out to her whenever he entered the house, asking if she needed anything. Her eyes darted to the stacks of paper surrounding her. Charlie had been jittery for the past week; he wouldn't tell her why, which led to the possibility that he was working on something he didn't want to — or couldn't, she conceded — tell her about. That in turn led to the somewhat, but not completely, illogical and impossible possibility that someone had broken into his house in hopes of gaining sensitive information. She reached for an abandoned glass sitting on the table. The quiet footsteps crept closer and her grip on the glass tightened, ready to throw it at the intruder.

"Don," she sighed in relief when her future brother-in-law appeared in the doorway, lowering her makeshift weapon. Momentary surprise crossed the FBI agent's face before he smiled at her and asked, "Amita, what are you doing home so early?"

She laughed with relief as she put the glass back on the table, "It's Thursday. After my morning classes, I'm free for the rest of the day. How's the case going?"

"Pretty good," said Don, nodding as he stepped into the room. "We're making progress." She noted that he wasn't looking at her as he spoke, almost as if he was searching for something….

"Good," she said, watching him shift a stack of Charlie's notebooks. "I talked to Charlie last night, about the case and things."

"Yeah," Don looked at her, shuffling a few loose papers into a neat pile, "and how did that go?"

"Well… he's going to sleep better after the case is over." Don nodded, his attention returning to his search. Amita took pity on him and held up the ring, asking quietly, "Are you looking for this?"

The relief, and then embarrassment, on Don's face was near comical when he saw the ring safe and sound in her hand, but Amita knew that when it came to Eppes men, they were sometimes extremely self-conscious when it came to romantic matters. So she just held it out for him to take. Don accepted it with slightly trembling fingers.

"Thanks," he said, his voice wavering between businesslike and grateful. She smiled knowingly at him, "When are you going to ask her?"

"Tomorrow night," he said, looking down at the ring. 'Well, that explains the dinner.' He took out a white silk handkerchief and wrapped the ring carefully in its center.

"Good luck," Amita said quietly, "I know she'll say yes."

"Thanks," Don replied, slipping the precious bundle into his pocket, "Well, I should get back to work." He turned to leave the room, "Oh, and I'll drop Charlie off when we're done for the night." He added as an afterthought, "At a decent hour for dinner."

"Okay," Amita said, hiding a smile. Ever since Alan had scolded his younger son for forgetting a dinner date with his fiancée, Charlie had always tried to make it home in time to eat the evening meal with his family. 'And I'll remember to set out two extra plates for both of you because you'll be too wiped out to drive Terry and yourself home.'

"See you later," he said, nodding a goodbye and smiling.

"Bye," she said in reply, watching him disappear out of her sight. This time, Amita heard him going into his old room, putting the ring somewhere safe, before slipping out of the house, the soft click of the front door telling her that she was once again alone with her thesis and her thoughts. A broad grin crossed her face as she settled back in the chair and opened her ring binder. 'Tomorrow night is going to be very, very special; that's for sure.'


"Did you find it?" asked Charlie quietly, pausing briefly in his calculations.

"Yeah," Don muttered, glancing at the open door, hoping that no one was listening. The whole office was humming with work, as usual. Terry was nowhere in sight, having left the office earlier with her newest agent to question a witness. He tried to look busy, re-skimming the case file when he could recite the whole thing by heart. He rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out what, if anything, he was missing that might crack the case. 'Fourteen bars of pure gold aren't something that can be carried around without anyone noticing…so why can't we find them? I like Phan for this, but we have no proof, and since we have no proof, we have no warrant….'

"Don't freak out about it," his younger brother advised sagely, turning back to his whiteboards. This prompted Don to reply distractedly as he turned a page, "Yeah, says the genius who asked his fiancée to marry him in the middle of a rainstorm."

"No, it wasn't a rainstorm," Charlie corrected mildly, "It was a light summer shower."

"Well, I just hope it doesn't rain, in any form, tomorrow night. Put a pretty big dent in my plans. And are you sure you're okay with—?"

"Don, it's fine," Charlie put aside his numbers, focusing his attention on his older brother. "This is important to you and it's all right if, out of the fifty-two Fridays in a year, we don't stay at home for one night. And I promise that when I asked Dad and got him to agree with me, I didn't tell him why you wanted to go out. All I told him was that it was important and it would help both of us relax after the case."

"You swear?"

"Yes, yes I do," said Charlie with a hint of impatience. "I didn't say a word about your plans to anybody, not even Amita. In fact, Dad hasn't asked you about grandchildren lately, has he?"

"No," replied Don, "he's been asking you, but I won't be surprised if he does soon." He firmly shoved away any and all remote hints of what 'grandchildren' would imply, mostly because he was at work and if he got started… it could be a while before he could focus again.

"Hi Charlie," Don nearly dropped the file at the sound of Terry's voice, "did you figure out what was wrong with those accounts? Hi Don." He looked up to see his girlfriend standing in the doorway. She gave him a coy smile, teasing him, and Don didn't hesitate to grin broadly at her. He privately hoped that she hadn't heard a word of his conversation with Charlie. He wanted to surprise her.

"Ah, hold on," Charlie riffled through a stack of papers, found what he was looking for, and was on the verge of handing them over to Terry when he stopped and looked down at his scrawled, handwritten notes, "Actually…how about I talk with your accountants first?"

"No, that's okay Charlie," she smiled, "we're going to have a briefing in a few minutes anyway. So if you don't mind Don," she gave him a knowing look before returning her attention to Charlie, "Charlie, you're free to come and teach us."

"Sure Terry," the mathematician nodded. "Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Of course," she said understandingly, adding, "we'll be in the main conference room." With a final flirtatious smile directed at Don, she returned to work. He watched her go, allowing his mind to briefly wander off-duty, before firmly returning his attention to his work. 'Just breathe before you ask her and take it out of your pocket. As long as you don't drop it, everything will go fine…. I can't believe I'm fretting about this. Was I this bad when I asked Kim? No. But Kim is not Terry. Who knew a piece of precious metal could make me panic?'

"Of course," he muttered to himself, suddenly seeing an explanation, "he's a metalworker. He'd have access if he wanted to melt something down. Charlie, were there any metalwork companies in your analysis?" Don reached for a stack of files, rapidly flipping through them.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." It took a second of searching before Charlie pointed at a region on the map, "Somewhere in here." Don glanced at the location and then at the file jacket he was holding.

"Right, Glittering Arts," Don nodded and grabbed his suit jacket, "Thanks Charlie."

"Hey, be careful!" Charlie called after him. Don raised a hand, signaling that he had both heard and would do as his little brother had asked.


"I won't talk…I won't breathe…I won't move till you finally see that you belong with me…."

Terry sighed happily, nestled securely in Don's arms after another grueling day at the office. The cases they were working on were closed, the criminals caught and justice wrought. Now, she could look forward without any reservations to a relaxing weekend with Don, Charlie, Amita and Alan. If anything came up — and she had grumbled to Don that it better not — David knew that he no longer had to make two phone calls to his colleagues, just one. By now, it was mostly accepted fact at the office that the two of them were 'together.'

It had raised a minor hailstorm in the office when their relationship first came out. One of the secretaries caught Don comforting Terry about a particularly disturbing case involving a woman being shot and killed with a bullet to the heart. It had just hit too close to home for Terry and she had broken down in the parking garage. Don had wrapped her in a comforting hug, calming her tears, when the young secretary had spotted them. Perhaps hoping to ingrain herself to her coworkers, the other woman had quickly dropped a rumor by the water cooler.

When the couple had returned to the office, they were greeted by some whispers and Terry had spent the rest of the day being the target of more than a few pointed remarks. The clincher, however, had come when Merrick caught wind of the gossip and called both of them into his office that same afternoon. But instead of reprimanding them, as he had every right to do and as regulations usually demanded, Merrick had told them to make sure that they maintained a strict separation between their personal lives and work (or else he would transfer one of them), that their on-the-job conduct remained professional, and that they were discreet in their relationship. Then he handed them two new cases and dismissed them. To say that Terry and Don weren't shocked would be a lie. Once word got out about Merrick's blessing — well, as close to a blessing that the couple was going to get from the Assistant Director — the gossip died down…slightly.

Since then, Don and Terry had been dating steadily, both of them making slow overtures to each other, enjoying the courtship instead of rushing into wedlock like they had in their youth. Even though they knew each other quite well from their years of friendship, it was fun to rediscover old quirks and uncover the changes time had wrought in each other.

"Terry?"

"Hmm?" She was perfectly content with her head resting against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. The whole family had come to this outdoor restaurant. Terry had briefly thought it strange, seeing how the family usually stayed home for Friday dinners, but Alan, Charlie and Amita had readily agreed. They had arrived at the restaurant and were promptly led into an open-air area surrounded by a grove of trees, lending the place an air of seclusion and privacy. Illumination came from the soft light cast by the strategically placed strands of lights, candles and the occasional lantern. As they dinned, the family chatted about their week and their work, though Terry, Don and Charlie held back about their latest case. While they were waiting for dessert, Don had asked Terry to dance with him. She had readily consented.

"Terry," he repeated insistently and she raised her head, a questioning look in her eyes and a playful pout on her lips. He stepped back from her and she looked at him in puzzlement, her playfulness vanishing, wondering if he had just spotted a danger or a colleague of theirs enter the restaurant. While it was accepted by their colleagues and superiors that the two of them were in a serious relationship with each other, they avoided overt displays of courtship when they could.

"Terry," he repeated with a slight shake of his head, his voice soft, reassuring her that there was no need to worry. "Do you remember that question I asked you about a year ago?" Her mind flew back through the months of their official relationship and she nearly smiled. 'How could I forget the day we saw each other again? The look of happiness on your face at the airport? That grin, the one you smile just for me each time our eyes meet? The way you kissed me breathless? I could never forget it.'

"Of course I do," she answered, doing a quick count of the months. "It's actually been…a year,"— Terry was surprised; time had passed quickly since she had returned to Don's side — "to the day since I came back from Virginia."

"Right, of course," he said casually. 'Maybe a little too casually,' she thought, noticing that his normally steady hands were trembling ever so slightly. He slipped his left hand from hers and reached into his pocket. 'What's he doing?' His other hand, placed on the small of her back, gently guided her towards an isolated corner of the dance floor, away from all the other couples. Eventually, they ended up hidden in the half-shadows of the trees, giving the illusion of privacy. He stopped and looked at her before briefly glancing toward their table. Terry followed his eyes and saw that while Alan was watching them with curiosity, Charlie and Amita were watching and smiling knowingly, even though they tried to hide it. She looked back at Don who suddenly seemed a little uncertain; something he rarely ever was. Little pieces of his behavior for the past two weeks started falling into place, pieces that led to only one conclusion. 'Is he…?'

"You don't know what you do. Every time you walk into the room, I'm afraid to move…"

Uncomprehendingly, she watched him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Sure enough, Don withdrew a small white silk handkerchief from his pocket and got down on one knee — his bad knee, she noted; at least, the part of her brain that wasn't threatening to turn into happy mush. His right hand had somehow slipped from her back and taken her left hand in a gentle grip.

"I love you, Terry," he said, looking up lovingly at her. "I have for a long time. You've been my best friend and partner for years; you know me sometimes better than I know myself. I want to wake up every morning next to you, raise kids together, and spend our years together. I want to share my life with you. Because of this, Theresa Lake, I am asking you to give me the honor of your hand in marriage." With a small shake of his wrist, the soft lights of the room fell on the shimmering silver engagement ring, the three small diamonds on top sending small prisms of light dancing across the polished floor.

It only took a second of soul-searching. Terry was beyond happy to say that every fiber of her being had no uncertainties about her answer. She loved him and he would never hurt her. There was nothing more she wanted than to spend the rest of her life with him. Oh, marriage would be hard at times — there could be no doubt about that, especially with personalities like theirs — but she was certain that holy matrimony for them would work. She was his, and he was hers, heart and soul.

"Yes," she whispered, overcome by joy, "yes, I will." Don smiled, his charm winning her heart all over again and ever so gently slipped the ring onto her fourth finger before he stood up, drawing her close for a kiss. It was then that Terry realized what song they had been dancing to. She wondered if he had chosen the song on purpose and then decided it didn't matter as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sometimes, it was simply enough to take life as it came, with all its joys and sorrows, without trying to predict the next twist of fate.

"I've waited all my life to cross this line to the only thing that's true. So I will not hide. It's time to try anything to be with you. All my life I've waited…This is true"

"I love you," he whispered as the last strains of the music faded. She smiled.

"I know. I love you, too," she murmured as their lips met again.

Alan chuckled quietly as he watched his eldest son and his girlfriend — correction, fiancée, my second daughter-in-law-to-be — kiss on the dance floor. 'Well, Maggie, looks like my hope for grandchildren will soon be fulfilled. But that aside, I'm thankful that he's found someone who loves him with all her heart. And I pray that they have many, many happy years together.'

'But do you know how many gray hairs this is going to give me?'