Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or anything to do with the show.

Don looked at the number of the room written on the paper Miss Sloane had thrown past him. He rolled his eyes, as he noted it was the number of the old detention room. Well, he knew where that was, he thought, then headed quickly down the hall, as he realized it was almost time for the career day speeches to begin.

Entering his old detention hall digs, Don was struck with the feeling of nostalgia. Placing his sunglasses in his suit jacket, he evaluated the room and decided it did not look any different from the last time he had been there. A chalkboard covered the front wall of the room, with an old metal desk sitting in front of it. In neat rows ten deep, student desks combined with attached chairs lined up facing the chalkboard and desk. Looking to make sure no one was watching, Don tried to squeeze his solid frame into one of the seats. He was pleased that he just fit- but maybe a little too snug, as the edge of the desk pressed into his ribs. When he heard voices coming down the hall, he quickly tried to stand up, taking the desk with him.

Damn!

Just as a woman and five teenage boys entered the room, Don shoved the desk down and away from his body. All six people raised their eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the suited agent grappling with the desk, and then the small crashing noise it made as it finally released Don from its grip and fell to the floor. Straightening up, Don placed the desk upright, shook his shoulders out, and walked stiff-jointed to greet the visitors. He tried to ignore the increase of heat that he felt on his face, and the mutter of 'loser' from two of the teens.

"Hello," he said to the woman, holding out his right hand, "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Are these young men my lucky audience today?"

The woman looked at the five boys who stood beside her.

Giving her attention back to Don, the woman introduced herself, sarcasm enrobing the words that she directed with equal venom to the agent and the five sullen boys.

"I'm Ms. Close, the lucky teacher- in- charge to your lucky audience. Why are they so lucky? While the rest of the school population is in the gym to hear a boring speech given by the personal appearance of- she named a famous baseball player- they have behaved so well this past semester, we decided to award them with a personal appearance by you. After all, if the past two years are indicators of future accomplishments, these boys are bound to be involved with law enforcement some time soon- though, I don't think they'll be part of the positive end of the enforcing."

The English teacher then jerked her head towards the student desks, indicating for the boys to take seats, which they promptly did. With the boys settled, Ms. Close excused herself, explaining to Don that she was just going to run to the ladies room, but the agent suspected she would be heading to the gym and he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

Left alone with the obviously angry and dejected teens, Don strode nervously to the chalkboard, his back to the students, looking for a piece of chalk. Finding a small one-inch scrap, he slowly wrote his name on the board, himself angry at the situation. He knew Rooney was responsible for this. The principal had insisted that there be no talk about guns or violence during his speech- "You know, after Columbine, we try to avoid that kind of talk". Don had reluctantly agreed, even though he knew that what was left of his career was boring paper and foot work. He had accepted the fact that the lecture he would be giving to his volunteer audience would be boring. Now, however, the restrictions on his speech and the fact that his audience was not volunteer had conspired to make Don the punishment for a group of totally disinterested captives.

He hoped the captives didn't revolt.

Turning around, Don surveyed the teenagers.

All of them wore jeans and T-shirts with different messages written on them. From "Don't Bother" to "What You Looking At", the words on the shirts easily confirmed the negative attitudes that fell dripping off the faces of the teens. Don was unconsciously aware that the students were a racial mix- two white, one black, and two Latino; when he had attended school, the student body had been entirely white. Don figured the changes in the make-up of this small group of students probably reflected the school as a whole, as the racial blend of the entire country was also changing.

All but one of the Latinos were taller than him, each one standing over six feet; the shortest one was actually quite tiny, probably only a few inches over five feet. Their bodies were solid muscle, but very lean, the only bulk they had coming from the layered shirts and thick jeans they wore. It would be difficult to guess any of their individual weights. Despite the hard looks that each teen wore, Don was glad to see there were no obvious signs of gang apparel- no colors were displayed, their jeans fit snugly at the waist, and none sported any kind of tattoo or jewelry. Their hair was worn short. All in all, they appeared neat and clean. If it weren't for the harsh angles of their limbs and torsos- coupled with the scowls that continually hung on their faces- Don would have labeled them the typical suburban kids of Hollywood and television.

Standing in front of the desk, Don began talking, explaining to the students who he was and about his job in the office. The students ignored him, looking around the room, some settling their eyes on the ceiling, obviously counting tiles. Two-hundred eighty-four, Don remembered, as he continued talking, aware of the disinterest of the students, trying to pass the time himself as he didn't want to be there any more than the teens. Just as he began the fascinating story of proper case report writing, a loud booming voice cut through his speech.

"Donny!"

Benny Cameron stood in the doorway of detention hall, filling the door from top to bottom, and side to side. He wore a white sweat suit and a big grin, entering the room to shake Don's hand so hard the agent's entire body shook, too.

"I can't believe it", Don yelped, pulling his former Dog into a bear hug.

Big mistake, as Benny wrapped his arms so tight around his friend that Don became dizzy from lack of oxygen.

Separating, Don and Benny eyed each other.

"Well, obviously Karma does not exist", Benny sighed, as he noted Don's excellent physique and thick waves of hair. He himself was completely bald.

Don grinned.

"I think that's what Rooney was thinking when I met with him earlier this morning", he replied.

Realizing that his buddy must be at the school for a reason, Don enquired as to his purpose.

"Why, Donny, I'm the football coach here- didn't ya know?" Benny beamed with pride.

Don beamed back, "No- I haven't been around here in twenty years, and I don't really read the high school sports pages anymore…But that's just great, just great…" Don's words trailed off, as he was a little jealous when he realized that his out-of-shape friend had a career in sports and he didn't.

"Well, I owe it all to you, Donny, and the rest of our crew. That stunt you pulled with the T-shirts and nicknames senior year- you wouldn't believe the confidence-booster that was for me. I thought I was gonna end up a burger-flipper for sure, but, man, after I became so popular senior year, so many people kept telling me to go for it, go to college. I just didn't think there was anything I couldn't do, not with all those people backing me. Now, here I am- over ten years of teaching under my belt and four regional titles- might even go to state this year."

"And I owe it all to the Detention Dogs", laughed Benny- "maybe, even, indirectly, to old Nipplehead Rooney".

Don laughed at hearing the principal's old nickname. Having spread it around himself, Detention Don had shown Rooney that the then-teacher wasn't the only one who could come up with nicknames. Unfortunately for Rooney, he had no friends to put a positive spin on that one.

At the mention of Rooney's name, five pairs of teenage eyes were suddenly wide open, staring at the two men reminiscing at the front of the room. Five bodies sat straight up in their chairs, as five pairs of ears opened, concentrating on the words of their phys ed teacher and the agent who had somehow become interesting.

Don and Benny kept laughing, updating each other on their current situations. Benny was married to his college sweetheart, and had three kids of various ages. He had started teaching before Rooney had become principal- he probably wouldn't have hired me, Benny pointed out- and, after winning regional when the school had not even won a single game in over five years, when Rooney had become principal, he was stuck with his former pain-in-the-ass.

The more the two adults talked about Rooney and their obvious adversity to him, the more the five captive teenagers leaned forward in attention. Finally, one of them raised his hand.

The tall Latino youth asked Don-

"You're Detention Don?"

Surprised to hear the teen speak his former nickname, Don turned to him and proudly declared, "YEP"- and your name is?"

"Jose, but my friends all call me Joey. They like to tease me that I'm like that guy on 'Friends', but" he said, glaring at the other boys- "I don't think I'm as smart".

His friends laughed congenially, as they knew he meant to say "I don't think I'm as dumb". As usual, the reason for his friends' laughter flew over Joey's head.

Next, the small Latino teen introduced himself and the rest of his friends. "I'm Miguel, this guy here"- he pointed to the blonde white teen- "is Adam", next pointed to the black teen, "Jeff" and finally, the remaining brown-headed white youth- "Ben".

Don smiled. "Well, now that we're all friends, you can just call me Don- you need not address me with the formal title 'detention'."

The teens smiled back.

"We've heard about you- a couple older teachers snicker about how Rooney thinks he's so hot, but they remembered when "Detention Don" put him in his place".

Benny and Don looked at each other, pride in their chests.

Miguel, with an angelic look on his face (yeah, we're talking 'and the Academy Award goes to'…) oh, so, innocently asked Don-

"You're a federal agent now- you didn't really do anything bad in high school, did you?"

Don, his ego bloated from Benny's gratitude, the interest of the teens, and the fact that people at his high school still remembered his name, forgot his FBI training and completely let his guard down. He sat on the edge of the desk, while Benny pulled up the teacher's chair, both men relaxing. Then Don and Benny started talking like suspects without lawyers- they gave too much information to the wrong people.

"When Rooney was hired here, we were juniors", Benny began, exchanging knowing glances and smiles with Don.

"We were really popular", Don said, Benny pleased that he had said 'we'- as he hadn't really been- "and Rooney was just too easy a target."

"So, we kinda took out all our frustrations on him", Benny explained, sounding a little too much like the educator he was.

"Yeah," Don continued, "our 'frustrations' included a long line of practical jokes."

"No way!", Ben declared, with mock disbelief masking a small smirk trying to climb onto his face, "what kind of jokes could you come up with back then- I mean, they must've been really lame."

"Yes, way", Don declared, trying to sound cool, "we got to school early for two weeks straight, playing a different prank every day. We just about drove Rooney crazy."

The raised eyebrows of the five teens coaxed the desired explanations from the two men.

"First thing we did, we put some fast-drying clay into the lock of his door. He couldn't get into his room- every one of his first few classes had to meet in the cafeteria while he was on his knees for three hours, using a screwdriver to chip away the clay, until finally he could get the key in to work", Don started the storytelling, relishing the rapt attention the teenagers were bestowing on him.

"Then we glued all the pages of his teacher books shut- he had to buy a new set cause he couldn't prove who'd done it", continued Benny, who did not use books himself, so he was oblivious to the danger of telling five of his students about this particular little escapade.

"We also did the usual- put ink on the arms of his chair, broke all his chalk, stole the ribbon from his typewriter, even got a hold of one of his sets of passes" Don thought back, trying to remember everything they'd done.

"I remember that," Benny contributed, "You were a pretty good forger, Don- remember how you wrote hall passes for all the kids in Rooney's classes with his signature on 'em? Man, the principal was sure mad when he saw how many passes he'd written- he must have screamed at Rooney for over an hour about how 'if you don't want kids in your class to teach, why'd you become a teacher?" I thought Rooney was gonna cry."

Don smiled at the memory, "Yeah, he always looked like he wanted to cry. What a wuss."

Ben raised his hand, challenging the two men's memories with "But how'd you do all that stuff without getting caught- someone had to see you?"

Don spoke in a conspiratorial whisper-"The cafeteria left its delivery doors open at 5:00am- we just took advantage of that and delivered ourselves through to Rooney's room."

The two men went on to tell the students about other stunts they had pulled on Rooney, including the Detention Dogs and how they had been formed in retaliation for Rooney's name calling. The teens nodded their heads in understanding, indicating that the principal had failed to drop the habit of nicknaming his students.

As Don and Benny started wrapping up their storytelling, Joey raised his hand.

"You never explained why you called Rooney 'Nipplehead'.

A smile absorbed the bottom of Don's face.

"Well, obviously, it's because he's balder than bald under that toupee of his."

All five teens shot upright in their seats, leaning forward eagerly.

"He wears a toupee!" they shouted, the volume of their voices forcing Don to lean back on the desk.

"Well, yeah, of course, though…" Don reflected for a moment, and then realized that Rooney's current toupee was a really good one- the agent had only known it for what it was because he had prior experience with the man. "When he first started here, he had a really bad toupee- man, it was just so obvious that the hair was fake and he was bald. The color didn't even match his eyebrows, and it just barely covered the top of his head. The word 'rug' was a justified description of it. "

A mischievous smile formed on Benny's lips, as he added to the story,

"Don told everyone it was a toupee, but nobody seemed to believe you could lose your hair when you were in your twenties." Benny rubbed the top of his head. "Some of us found out-later on- that you really could." Hesitating a moment, the phys ed teacher relished telling his students, "But Don proved us wrong senior year. He spent all year aiming paper airplanes at Rooney during detention, trying to knock it off."

"Over and over again", Don sighed, "but that thing was stuck on stronger than I thought. Until…" he stopped, scrutinizing the teens. Seeing his look, they suddenly struck idyllic poses, languidly sitting in their seats, paying attention but not apparently desperate to know. Satisfied, Don continued, "One day it hit me- I needed something that would help the airplanes have enough force to knock Rooney's hair off, cause the planes just kinda bounced off his head, that toupee moving some, but never enough so I could prove he was bald."

"What did you do?" asked Michael.

"It was really simple- I just put a piece of chewed up bubble-gum on the end of the plane. The weight of it helped guide the plane to 'hit the spot'; Rooney lost that toupee the first shot I took. When everyone saw how bald he was, I started calling him Nipplehead- and so did everybody else."

Everyone in the room laughed.

Just then, Ms. Close entered the room. She stopped short, angrily looking at the happy students reposing in their seats.

"Come on", she said, nodding her head in greeting to Benny but completely ignoring Don, "we need to get you back to class." She turned on her heel and left the room, waiting for her students just outside the door.

The five teens got up to follow, but first stopped to shake Don's hand, falsely promising to follow up on the requirements necessary to enter Quantico. They waved goodbye as they left the room, then quickly put their heads together when they began walking down the hallway, whispering amongst themselves as Ms. Close kept suspiciously glancing back at them.

"Now what are they up to?" she thought. She decided she didn't really want to know.

Don and Benny hugged a brief goodbye, promising to keep in contact with each other.

All in all, Don thought, that wasn't so bad- I think those kids even learned something.

They sure did.

They sure did.