A/N: It's been a while since I updated. School's been killer.
REVIEW RESPONSES: To Jas0643: thanks! Here's the update. To RogueHoney: thank you. To Ash-rox: thanks! To Coconut-dreamer: Thanks, I'm glad I'm keeping it realistic. To StoryDreamer: Thanks so much. I'm new to the Numb3rs fanfic community, relatively at least, so I wasn't sure if this would be trite, so I'm glad to hear that it's not. To DD2: thanks! Sorry it took awhile. To FindaHappyPlace: thanks. Here's the update.
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Homecoming
Chapter 7:
Sam was playing with the ring on her right ring finger; she always did when she was nervous. Every now and then, she would touch the locket around her neck, as if to check it still hung there as it had for twenty four years.
They had just finished crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Compared to some plane trips she'd taken in the past, the remaining distance was nothing more than a stroll down the block.
Sam always had very specific flight times – even when she was doing tours. She would always take flights that would land her at the destination at about 8AM or so. That way she could sleep on the plane and for a couple hours at the hotel before going out to see the sights or preparing for the night's show. She'd become amazing at sleeping through the most adverse conditions, but she had yet to close her eyes. She was as wide-awake as if the jolt from tens shots of espresso was just kicking in. And she'd been like that for hours. She was too nervous to focus on anything – reading, writing, even the music she's brought along was beginning to annoy her.
"Samantha," Kimberly said from her right, her eyes still closed. "If you don't stop jiggling that damn leg, I'm going to murder you."
"I'm nervous."
"You can play in front of thousands of fans; I'm sure you can face a little family time without problem."
"I'm going to have the conversation I've been avoiding since I found out I was pregnant."
"And what's that?" Kimberly asked with an exasperated sigh, obviously having given up on sleep to calm her neurotic friend.
"'What's the matter with you? How could you get pregnant before marriage? Why aren't you married? What do you mean you won't live only for your children? Why can't you be more like a proper mother and stay at home – one home – with you daughter?'" Sam mocked in her best impersonation of her father.
"I'm sure it won't be that bad."
"Oh, that'll just be the interrogation part. There's still the angry yelling, the disappointed frowns, the cold glares, and my personal favorite: complete and total freeze out."
"If you don't want to see them so badly, then why are we on a bloody plane to Los Angeles?"
"Oh, it's not them. I mean, I expect some anger from Don and Charlie, but that – that's going to be all my father."
"I'm sure it will be fine," Kimberly said after a moment of silence. That was always what Kimberly said after she was sure Sam's ranting was through, and she was usually right. But this time, it didn't calm Sam.
-
It's against FBI regulations to use the network for personal reasons. But this time Don was the supervisor. No one would question his tracking down some obscure American citizen who lived overseas. No one could tie Samantha Mann to him personally – Sam obviously paid a lot to keep the average citizen from tracking her without committing numerous felonies, most likely to deter paparazzi from delving too deep into her past.
But he wasn't an average citizen. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. Megan was on the phone; Colby and David were discussing a new development on the case. Good. No one would question a special agent looking for someone, expect for the team. They would know it had nothing to do with the case, especially Megan who was already suspicious of his response when she first brought up Samantha Mann.
That was odd. There was recent activity on her pass port within the US. He checked where it was used. LA International. His mouth went dry. That couldn't be possible. She was in LA?
His phone jolted him out of his thoughts.
"Eppes," he answered, slightly flustered.
"Don," a feminine voice said cautiously.
"Yeah, who's this?" His heart was beating fast. His name rolled off her tongue like no one else's. She could be no one else.
"It's Sam," she whispered. She was silent. He was silent.
"You're in LA," he said finally, making sure to sound authoritative on her whereabouts. He didn't want to give her a chance to lie.
"Yes, she whispered again.
He recognized the whisper. It wasn't that "I can't talk because someone is listening" whisper, but the "I've never been this nervous in my entire life" whisper. He smiled knowing he could still recognize such a small detail.
"Do you remember where Mikey's Place is?"
"Yeah," she answered, closer to her normal level, gaining confidence.
"Can you be there at noon?"
"Yes," she said this time without hesitating, completely in control.
"I'll see you there."
Noon couldn't come fast enough.
"Where are you going?" David asked as Don headed towards the elevator, jacket in hand. The rest of the team turned to stare at him. Don Eppes did not leave during a case.
"I'll be back in a little while," was all he said, drawing even more curious stares.
Mikey's was on the other side of downtown from the FBI office. During high school, Mikey's was the place to hang with friends or go to impress a girl, especially if you were a sports star. Mikey always honored the local high school heros. Hell, Don was still up on his Wall of Fame.
Don walked in. It was still the place for teens, it seemed. He was probably the oldest patron in the place – no, scratch that, there was some one else his age. His exact age.
A group of high school jocks looking to score with the beautiful, slightly older woman surrounded her. She certainly wasn't the same girl she was in high school. She smiled sympathetically at the boys' attempts, not a hint of the exasperation he would have expected from a teenage Sam. The joy he had from realizing he still knew her voice quickly died. He knew nothing about her.
"Well, boys, as delightful as this conversation has been, my lunch date is here," Sam announced over the din the teens were making. She hadn't even turned her head to see Don standing there; instead, she sat with perfect poise and continued to look at the boys with her sympathetic smile as they complained about leaving. But Don took it as his cue to rescue her, which he did, and sent the boys away.
Once they were gone (after one last attempt at getting her number), Don sat down across from Sam. In person, it was obvious they were close relatives. They had the same eyes and nose. When they were younger, people commented Sam was the feminine version of Don, and that seemed to still be the case.
They stared at each other for a few minutes, not saying a word. There wasn't exactly a standard way of handling seeing your long lost twin after eighteen years.
"I'm surprised you didn't kill those boys," he said suddenly; the silence was driving him insane.
"Oh, I've, uh, gotten used to it."
"Right… I figured with the fame and everything."
"You know?" she asked, taken aback.
"Yeah, I've been to your website."
"Oh well, don't believe everything you read," Sam said and took a sip of her water.
"You lied on your own website?"
"Of course not. You know I don't lie, Don." And it was true – Sam never had to lie to be deceptive. "I simply presented the truth in a way that might cause people to be misled."
Typical Sam, maybe she hadn't changed.
"So… if you read that bio, then you know about…"
"Your daughter," he completed.
"Yeah…" she seemed to be nervously waiting for his approval.
"What's my niece's name?"
Relief swept over her features, and she smiled broadly. "Danielle, well, Dannie – everyone calls her Dannie."
"Why didn't you tell me about her when Mom died?"
"I didn't want you and Charlie and Dad to know," she answered quietly, probably anticipating the anger that came with her admission.
"You didn't want me to know I have a niece; that Dad has a granddaughter."
"Don," she began without a hint of anger. "You know as well as I do that everyone, especially Dad, thought I was some coke whore."
Don wanted to bite back in defense, but he knew it was useless. He had thought she turned into a druggie whore, and her being pregnant would only reinforce that idea.
They fell silent again, and a waiter came to take their orders. They didn't speak again until their food came.
"How'd you find out about the website?" she asked finally.
"Charlie's girlfriend is a fan," he replied and noticed Sam break out into a brilliant Cheshire cat grin.
"Charlie has a girlfriend?" she asked as though just to check she head him correctly.
"Yeah – Amita."
"Charlie has a girlfriend!" she sang out ad laughed. "I'm so proud."
Don relaxed completely. This was definitely the Sam he knew.