A.N: This and the next chapter were originally supposed to be one chapter, but it continued to grow extraneously. I have decided to split it into two. Thus, this is Peyton's chapter and the next is Don's. Hopefully, she will be redeemed as one of my reviewers has made it clear that they don't care for her attitude. :)

Disclaimer: Alright, fine, I admit it. I am the one who owns Numb3rs, I'm responsible for everything that happens to this show... I'm the reason behind everything: David always getting shot, Colby being a "traitor", Don needing a shrink because he is just one step away from going crazy, Megan leaving and then coming back (well, maybe that was her own devices), Larry being so out of touch with reality and going to be a monk for a while, and Charlie never going to get anywhere with his romantic love life with Amita. There it's all my fault... No, not really, that would be the people over at CBS. I just own the DVD's and this story... which has to count for something right? No, oh well...it was worth a shot. And I am not a songwriter either.

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"Mmmm whacha say, Mmmm that you only meant well?, well of course you did"

-Imogen Heap-

Keys jiggled as the knob turned, the door swinging open to rebound against the glass wall. Heels echoed across the tile as the Assistant Supervisor of the L.A.'s FBI Crime Lab dropped her bag and jacket near her chair. Nimble fingers pushed the button on the monitor and then crossed the room, closing the door and hitting the lights as she went by.

Seating herself at her desk, Peyton began her normal morning ritual. Taking a sip of her coffee, she logged into the system, finding herself with nothing new except for an e-mail about leaving your office door unlocked at night for the janitors. With a sniff at the absurdity of FBI policy, she reached for the phone. The message board's automated monosyllabic voice told her she had no voicemails. The oak wood was bare of any notes from the night secretary. Apparently, nothing of importance had happened last night that needed to be brought to her attention. This didn't bode well with her. She'd finished all the paperwork yesterday after returning to the lab and without something to fixate her mind upon her thoughts tended to drift on how awful her relationship with Agent Eppes was. Despite Kathryn's assurances, she felt that it may be too late to do anything about it. 'Maybe I could send him a fruit basket?' she thought humorously.

After yesterday's incident she hadn't been able to think about anything else but yesterday. There had been no sleep for her last night. The phrase "no rest for the wicked" sudddenly became all the more clear to her. She'd wandered around the townhouse while Kathryn slept peacefully and guiltless on the other side of the door. Finally, she had brewed a pot of coffee and cracked open an old analytical chemistry textbook at the kitchen island. Peyton had sat there for hours in the low light with the constant drip-drop from the sink faucet breaking the silence in the house, and that was the scene that Kathryn had walked in on, with her nursing her fourth cup:

Peyton looked up from the stark white pages as Kathryn came into the kitchen, rubbing the grit from her half lidded eyes. With a double take, her robed friend for almost thirty three years stopped and leaned against the other side of kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?" her brow furrowed and she looked suspiciously at her. "How long have you been down here?" Her voice, despite the early morning, was incredulous.

Peyton glanced at the clock on the stove. The digital red numbers read 6:13, meaning that seven hours had passed since the island seat had called her. She shrugged at Kathryn. "Dunno."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Pushing off, she poured her own cup, added the fixtures, and joined her. "When you don't sleep it's because you are feeling guilty. You manage to sleep during everything else: happiness, depression, anger, denial, etc… You've done something that was wrong and now you feel bad about it. So, come on spill, what did you do?"

"Nothing." Moving to the sink, Peyton slammed her mug down. Would everyone just quit with the damn accusations. Why was it her fault? "I did nothing!"

Her temporary psychiatrist for the morning gave her a pointed look from her seat. "Check your nose, Pinocchio. Does it have anything to do with the McFed and your argument yesterday?"

Whirling around so fast that she almost gave herself whiplash, she smashed her elbow on the counter. "Shit…No! No nicknames! The replacement of a name with a "friendly" nickname implies friendship. It means that we like him." The pain gradually faded as she rubbed the spot.

"I do like him…"

"Whose side are you on, Brutus?" Peyton cut her off, crying out in outrage, elbow forgotten.

"As your best friend I'm always on your side, P, but I like Agent Eppes. And I like his teammates. They're good people, Peyton, and they're good at their jobs. You should give them a chance."

"I don't want to give them a chance." She said, sounding very much like a petulant child.

"Oh for the love of Christ, act your age Peyton Huntzberger. You need to quit being so mad at Agent Eppes for all of this and get mad at the people who really are to blame: Our government. They suck."

"I don't pay you to be my shrink." She muttered in defeat, hugging herself. She didn't like this conversation with all of its blaming and pointing out how she was so clearly in the wrong.

"You don't pay me to be your best friend, but I do it anyway because I love you. And I'd rather be your Jiminy Cricket. You know I don't like psychiatrists with all their psycho babble." Kathryn rolled her eyes playfully and waved her hand around at the words "psycho babble".

Peyton leaned back against the cool marble and processed Kathryn's admissions. Who was she really mad at? It was the people at the FBI in D.C. who had "asked" for her to switch positions. She didn't know their names, but she knew that Don Eppes was not one of them. He had made that abundantly clear yesterday. Had she really been that awful? Yes, she had been. She'd blamed everyone else except the people who really deserved her anger. Peyton had preached about respect and done nothing to show for it. These people had no idea who she was and they had no reason to. No one had told them that they had a genius working for them or the best forensic scientist ever seen throughout the world. Peyton was a highly esteemed member in the scientific community, but that was really no excuse. She had better class and manners than that and it was time that she showed them. "I've been a bitch haven't I?"

Kathryn held up her hand showing two fingers close together and smiled around her mug. "Maybe just a little."

She growled. "Ergghh… How am I going to fix this?"

"Well, you could always apologize to the McFed." Kathryn's chair scraped against the stone tile as she stood. Stretching, her friend patted her on the shoulder and then moved off down the hall. "I'm going to get ready. I'll ride with you. You know, just try being nice to him. I know that's hard for you, but…" Her voice trailed off as she retreated back to her room.

"Be nice…Yeah… Wait, McFed? Kathryn, you've been watching Grey's Anatomy again without me? Why does it have to be a "Mc" nickname; don't you know what those stand for?" (1)

Frowning, Peyton returned to the land of the living, leaving her memories of the morning behind, as her desk phone rang. She hit the speaker and answered with a curt "Huntzberger."

"Dr. Huntzberger, there's someone from the L.A. Crime Lab to see you." The ever chipper voice of the secretary crackled through the speakers.

"I'm in here. You can send them back, please."

"Yes, Dr. Huntzberger."

"Thank you." The speaker's clicked as the woman disconnected and Peyton hung up. Peyton knew that she had to face the music and Agent Eppes sometime soon, but for now she'd settle for the cop-out and deal with her unwanted guest. She had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly who it was from her old job that had come to pay her an early morning visit, and Peyton would almost rather deal with the senior agent than this ass.

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(1) For those who don't watch Grey's Anatomy or have not heard of the "Mc" nickname, it is used for two of the male stars on the show. They are McDreamy and McSteamy. My mother called Don the McFed one time after an episode on the phone. So that's what we call him now. Thank her for it. I find it funny.

A.N: Not feeling too well at the moment, I'll have the next one up soon. I'm off to find some stronger medicine. I've had over 500 hits for this story and only 5 reviews. Thanks to simanis who has reviewed for every chapter. Guys, this is really your story, I've already got the story for me. I put this up here for you guys, so I am imploring you as one writer to another, let me know what you think... I know it's slow at the beginning and I'm revising and posting as fast as I can, but really let me know, even if it is just like one word or one sentence. Constructive Criticism is what I appreciate. If there is something that you don't like, tell me, and I might fix it, so long as it doesn't disrupt the entire story. And I can promise that pain and suffering are coming later... but we have to build up to it, got to get the base line going before I hurt and torture my characters. So, R&R please. Also, the song by Imogen Heap is called Hide and Seek and is a beautiful song.