Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated when any other person- real or imagined.

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Don kissed Ms. Sloane deeply, licking the taste of cherry lipgloss from his front teeth.

"Do you have everything?" he asked, wondering if everything included himself.

"Yes- suitcases are all in a row." Guess not.

Ms. Sloane snuck a nibble at his neck, running her finger along his jaw line when she stepped back.

"Thank you so much- for everything," she whispered seductively.

Warming from head to feet, Don turned his back to her, carrying the luggage to the front door.

Oh, boy! Her cab will be here soon- no time for that.

"You know I'll miss you," she smiled at his back.

"I'll miss you, too."

Miss Sloane went up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "If I could stay, you know I would."

"I know."

"Don, I have a favor to ask."

Grinning, he twisted his face to hers. "Don't think we have time, but I'm game if you are."

After smacking him lightly on the bottom, she tickled his sides. Laughing, he breathlessly promised, "Okay, okay- I give! Anything, anything you want- I'm all yours."

"Good," she said, sliding around to face Don, her arms still encircling him. "Now that I'm leaving, the 'Detention Dawgs' are going to need someone to keep an eye on them. So…"

Don's face suddenly turned serious. "Look, I liked those boys, but I don't exactly have time to check that they're doing okay in school. That's why they created parents."

Returning his stern look, Ms. Sloane pointed out the obvious, "They don't all live with their parents. And the ones who do, well, believe it or not, saying working parent nowadays is rather redundant."

Shaking his head, Don refused to accept the responsibility. "What, I just show up and tell Rooney I'm there to see the private grades and records of a bunch of boys I knew all of, what, two weeks?"

"No," she said slyly, "you show up and tell Rooney you are their new mentor and club leader. Then you ask the boys how they're doing."

"Club leader? They have an official detention club now?"

"No," she began playing with his tie, knowing it drove him crazy to have her hands working so near his body, but not actually touching him. While he was thus distracted, she continued, "But they do have an official Future Federal Law Enforcers of America club."

"Really," he murmured, pressing his hands against her hips, "that is so, so"-

Don suddenly straightened, looking at her in surprise and denial. "No, wait a minute. Since when do they have a Federal Law Enforcers club? You're making that up."

"Okay, I confess- I did make it up," she smiled smugly, leaning against the door jamb, pressing her shoulders back so Don could admire two of her greatest assets, "but it's official as of yesterday. I wrote up the papers and signed Rooney's name to it myself. I even had him approve of a certain federal agent as mentor and club leader."

"Uh, huh." Don spoke mechanically, his thoughts roaming to places he had recently visited upon the state of Sloan.

"So," she said, sidling up to him, her hands moving under his jacket and settling on his hips, rubbing gently back and forth. "You'll go to the school tomorrow? They have the fun-fair coming up. If you get them signed up, they can have a booth, raise some money, and participate in school in an appropriate way."

"Mmm, hmm," he gave in, his eyes half-closed. Dipping down to kiss her again, he raised his wrist behind her head and checked the time. "How 'bout we spend a little time behaving in an inappropriate way- just so I get it out of my system?"

"Mmm, hmm," she mumbled into his mouth, thinking about the meter that would be running on the cab.

This is going to be one expensive good-bye.

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Don looked up at his old high school, his sunglasses keeping away the glare of the sun. He did not really want to be there; hell, if Grace hadn't been so convincing, he would have given her a firm 'no'. Unfortunately, he had instead given her a firm 'yes'- twice, as it turned out, before the cabdriver had finally started laying on his horn. After they'd hurriedly dressed and he had given her a quick kiss good-bye, he had lingered on her walkway and watched the cab until it disappeared, while he thought what a cliché he had become.

Not liking that his greatest ally was no longer there, but more than empathetic to her need to go back east and care for her ailing mother, Don entered the school with reservations about becoming a mentor. He knew he had become a good example as an adult: his rewards and medals were testimony to that. It was just that for some reason and despite his best efforts, being around Rooney seemed to bring the worst out in him.

Entering the principal's office, Don felt the place looked forlorn and empty without Ms. Sloan. A skinny, young woman stepped into the room, her arms full of files. Her hair was a bird's nest, her clothes messy- a long skirt and white blouse covered by a long-sleeved sweater; the buttons were done up incorrectly, so that it hung unevenly on her body. Pushing up large, circular black glasses, she asked Don if she could help him, while she dropped page after page of papers on the floor.

Don bent over, picking up the loose pages.

"Oh, thank you," she gushed, "There aren't too many people who just offer to help anymore." After she dropped the files haphazardly on her desk, she gave Don's hand a firm shake. "I'm Dita McDonald. Just Dita to my friends."

"Special Agent Don Eppes- just Don to my friends."

"Oooh- special agent? Like James Bond?"

"No, federal agent; like the Untouchables."

To Don's surprise, she shyly flirted, "Oh, I bet no one would ever say that about you."

Grinning, he asked for Rooney.

"He's in his office," she sighed, "coming up with some other inane task for me to do, I'm sure.You know, Miss Sloane had everything organized so well; he seems to think he has a better method, though I've yet to figure out exactly what it is." Whispering confidentially, she told Don, "I think he's just avoiding his own responsibilities. You should see the stack of papers on his desk."

"Ms. McDonald," Rooney suddenly appeared behind Dita. "I take it you have better things to do than gossip with uninvited visitors."

"Yes, sir, of course." Shrinking further into her oversized clothes, Dita ran from the room.

"Well, Don- nee," Rooney said with unwarranted satisfaction, "I guess I should offer you my condolences, what with Grace leaving you and all."

"Maybe- but the getting was good while I was getting it." Don smiled with warranted satisfaction. "But then, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about, seeing as you've never gotten any"- he paused for effect"- thing from anyone."

Fuming, Rooney asked Don through clenched teeth, "Exactly why are you here?"

"Oh, I came to sign the paperwork to be mentor of the Future Federal Law Enforcers of America club. I was told to speak to you."

"Law Enforcers club? Hmph! We've never had one before, and we don't have one now. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"The paperwork is right here on my desk, sir," Dita spoke up from behind Rooney, having returned with a new stack of files. Dropping them on a chair, she rummaged through the mess in front of her, pulling out several sheets of printed paper.

"Give me those," Rooney snapped, grabbing the papers from her hands. Dita stepped back several feet, obviously afraid of her overbearing boss; Don frowned. "Well," Rooney observed, "it seems that not only have I signed the papers for this new club- but somehow, it must have slipped your memory that you did, too." Rooney showed Don a perfect reproduction of the agent's signature on the last of the pages held in his hand.

Don looked closely at the signature. Impressive, he thought, almost as good a forger as me. I wonder how long it took Grace to get it right.

Releasing the papers, Don tapped his head. "Sometimes I don't know where my mind is; I remember now, Grace had me sign them on our last date. I guess I just forgot, as it wasn't the most memorable thing I was doing that night."

Snatching the papers and slamming them on the desk, Rooney conceded, "Fine. You're a new mentor. I suppose I already know who the members of the club are?"

"Why, I do believe there were five signatures under mine; your eyesight isn't going in your old age, is it Ward-ee?"

Ignoring Don's question, Rooney replied. "Ms. McDonald will get you a list of mentor responsibilities." He suddenly smiled, as if remembering something. "Oh, by the way, you are required to meet at the school once a week. And I'm afraid the only day we have a room available is Friday. But with Grace moved out of town, I don't think that should be a problem now, should it?"

With that, the principal dismissed Don with a wave and exited to his office, grinning.

"He is such a-a, a butthead," Dita stated, shaking her head back and forth. "If you want, I can help out on Fridays. I don't have much of a social life myself."

"I'd appreciate it," Don thanked her. "Sometimes my schedule doesn't run nine-to-five and I might be late, or unable to make it. Now, how do I sign our club up for the fun fair? And how does it operate- we had them when I attended way back in the day, but it's been awhile."

"Oh, you'll probably think it's just as fun as you remember! All the clubs get assigned a booth in the gym; you know, games like ring toss, or a roulette wheel, even a dunking booth- though, between you and me, it's not very popular with club members, what with having to be dunked in a tank full of cold water. Then, whoever raises the most money wins a prize. This year, it's a field trip for the club and its mentor, plus any necessary chaperones." Dita moved in closer to Don. "There's also a dance at nine o'clock in the cafeteria- makes the whole night one big school party."

"It does sound like I remember. Only, we didn't raise money for competition- we just did it to pay for the clubs."

"Well, Ms. Sloane told me a lot about Rooney- she said he thinks everything should be a serious competition."

"Yeah, just like him to take the fun out of fun-fair. Well, I can't front the bill for this club on government salary, so I guess we better sign up for a booth."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, smiling as she pulled out another set of forms. Don was amazed at how efficiently she found what she needed in the leaning paper towers built vicariously on top of her desk. "Miss Sloane signed these for you, too."