Vendetta
By BeckyS
April 2005-2006

The Eppes family and the characters and situations from the TV show "NUMB3RS"
are the property of the Scotts and the creation of Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci.
No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

"What happened?" Don asked the agent in the truck, a man named Woods, as he fastened the passenger seat belt around his hips. He was in the front seat this time.

"Someone tried to kill your brother. Everyone believed what the first kid said, until the AD checked out the scene for himself and discovered he was still alive. The campus cop might lose his job over it, even if it was the first violent crime he's ever seen. Anyway, Merrick had the paramedics rig your brother up with an oxygen mask and a tank, then they covered him up like he was dead to take him out of the building. When they got to the hospital, they took him to the morgue, but they had an ER doctor come down. He examined Charlie and determined what treatment he needed, and after talking with Merrick, suggested this place. They have doctors on staff who are used to monitoring neurological problems, which is basically what's wrong with him."

"But why—" Don was fighting to get everything to come back into focus.

"Someone's trying to hurt you through your family. If they think Charlie's dead, they won't try again to kill him. CalAmeriTours told the rest of your dad's tour group that he decided to stay in Mexico for a couple of days, so he isn't in danger, either, as long as no one sees him." He grinned, wolflike. "That leaves you as the primary target, Agent Eppes, and that's something we can all deal with."

"Protect the innocent . . ." Don said softly, remembering Merrick's words. And the AD also hadn't allowed him to call his father – saving Alan the hours of agony he would've gone through if Don had told him what he'd believed to be true. It was a side to Merrick that Don had never seen before, and realized that he might not see again. It was good to know it was there, though. "How many people know the truth?"

"The AD and his secretary, the ER doctor, though he doesn't have all the details, Bud-the-chef and me. We got this duty because we were Merrick's backup at the scene. And now you know, and then whatever you choose to tell your team."

"Whatever I choose?"

Woods nodded. "Merrick left it up to you. Who, when, and how much. You shouldn't be on the case at all, but he's being careful who he trusts with this. Because of the attack on your brother, he knows he can trust you, and he knows you'll be careful who you pick to work with."

"So do I know everything yet?"

Woods shook his head. "I don't think anyone but Merrick really knows what's going on. That tells me it's pretty big – might have some political angle."

"Well, I hope he decides to tell me some time soon – how can you work a case when you don't have all the facts?"

Wood grimaced in commiseration. "After I drop you off, I'll be back on duty watching over your dad and brother, so it'll be just you and your team to really dig into it. There's others working on pieces of it – everyone likes Charlie, and they're mad as hell at what happened to him – but they don't know the whole story either. Merrick says it's up to you to put it together and run with it. He also said you'd know when and if to hand it off."

That was a warning. In other words, if he pulled it off, he'd be a hero; if he didn't, both he and Merrick could come up before the disciplinary board.

Don suddenly realized he was exhausted, and that wasn't going to help put a good plan together. "I think the first thing we do, if you and Bud can hang in a while longer, is for me to go home and spend some time thinking. I've supposedly been at a bar for the last hour, so if I walk out like I'm plastered and hit the sack for a while, it'll keep the story alive."

"Uh-huh. I'd guess that if Charlie really had died, your next mood when you woke up would be royally pissed."

"On top of being hungover? Oh, yeah. So after I get some decent sleep, I'll storm back to the office and get down to business." He gazed out at the streets for a moment, musing on how this trip back was so different from the trip out. "You going to report to Merrick?"

"Soon as I drop you off."

"Tell him thanks for me, will you? If I'm going to make this real at the office, I'm probably going to end up yelling at him – but it'll be an act. Let him know, okay?"

Woods nodded. "I will. Now get your head down; we're almost there."

David drained his – or supposedly Don's – fourth beer; significant portions of numbers one, two and three had gone into the philodendron at his left elbow. "How long is this going to take?" he asked.

"I don't know any more than I did the last time you asked," answered Megan, twirling the ice in her third glass of tea with her swizzle stick. "I wish he'd hurry up, though. I'm about to float out of here." Only part of her second glass had landed on the anthurium behind her head. It was an experiment she didn't care to repeat, since she'd managed to shower herself at the same time.

David grimaced in agreement. "Let me see what I can find out." He rose, and in a much louder voice told her, "I don't care what he said, I'm going to go check on him."

"You just want the head," she whispered with a grin.

He leaned over the table and looked her straight in the eye. "You got it."

She chuckled, but after he left, her face dropped back into grim lines. If Charlie had died because of a vendetta against Don, she knew it would scar him forever. Regardless of what Merrick said, Don would feel responsible. In fact, according to the internal code most of them operated on, he would be.

She frowned. The AD knew that – he was hardwired the same way. She ran the scene in the office through her mind again. When Don had made that connection, Merrick had said "no," and he'd meant it. She concentrated on her memory of the moment. Merrick had been very sure of himself on the first word, but then his tone had changed to slightly less certainty, even though what he was saying was all related.

That was odd. One of a number of very odd things about this case, not the least of which – she glared in the direction of the restrooms – was where her partner had gone when he slipped out the back door. And now it seemed she'd lost David, too.

On impulse, she slid out of the booth and went up to the bar to settle their tab. Once she had her change, she headed for the ladies' room and, when she didn't see either man in the dark hallway, ducked inside. She was wasting time fiddling with her hair when she heard David's voice in the hall. She slipped out just in time to grab Don as he staggered.

She studied her partner. He certainly looked like he'd had four beers – in fact, he looked absolutely poleaxed. She couldn't decide if whatever happened had been a good thing or if it had made it worse. Well, all they could do was get him back home again. "I paid up," she told David, "so we can leave."

"Good," he answered. "I don't think he needs anything else."

They accompanied him out the door, one on each side. As they approached the car, Don stumbled again and this time nearly knocked Megan over. She grabbed him and together they got their balance back, but not before he whispered, "Sit in the back with me."

She shot him a concerned look, but said, "David, you drive. I think I'd better be ready to open a door for him if we have to pull over suddenly."

"Got it," he said, but she caught the look in his eye that what he'd really gotten was that there'd been a significant change in the case. Whatever it was, he was prepared to wait for it.

They loaded Don into the back seat of the car. Megan helped him with his seatbelt, then settled next to him.

Don leaned forward and said very softly, "Call Larry Fleinhardt and have him bring Amita to the house, but get Colby to sweep the place first. Use David's phone – I don't think anyone outside would have tapped him yet. And get someone to bring me one of those new secure laptops, too."

He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if pretending to fall into a drunken sleep, but Megan noticed his breathing evened out almost immediately, and years of worry seemed to drop from his face. Whatever had happened, she decided it must have been good.

"David, I need your phone."