A/N: Thanks go to Separatrix for her invaluable beta reading services once again and for her continued support in getting this story written. Any characters created outside those of the series Numb3rs are my own. I may not have everything correct in terms of procedure in regards to Don and his FBI status, and use of fire arms, but I'm not about to spend a lot of time researching it :). Any errors remaining are my own.

Unavoidable Truths - Chapter 15

Don got an earlier flight to Vegas than he expected. It was even a first class seat on the front row so he would have plenty of stretching room for his legs and a comfortable cushy seat in which to rest in. The seat had cost almost an arm and a leg, and in his mind he laughed at the idea that Charlie had given his arm and he had given his leg to put them both in just this situation. He then called the Renaissance Hotel and booked a room. He'd tried to get one close to Charlie, but they wouldn't let him know what room Charlie was in even after claiming that he was his brother, nor when they patched him through to Charlie's room, did he receive an answer.

Alan drove Don to Don's apartment to pick up some clean clothes and to make sure everything was still a-okay at his place. After Don locked up his apartment once more, they drove to the airport. Alan dropped him off just outside the terminal. He helped unload the one piece of luggage and Don was grateful when a porter came and helped tag the luggage then placed it for pickup so Don wouldn't have to actually carry it into the terminal.

"Good luck, Don. I'm sure things will have been straightened out before you come home. And enjoy the time there. Win some, lose some and take in some shows. Have a good vacation and knock whatever sense you need to into Charlie's head."

"Thanks, Pop. And well.. thanks."

Alan hugged his son and watched as the man walked into the airport with the help of a cane. He hoped both men would work things out between them. And if things did progress from a sibling relationship into something more, he'd still be supportive. They were his sons, and he loved them both equally. If they found love with each other, he'd be happy for them and sad that the prospect of grandchildren would not be coming his way. His worry though would be their friends. Would they be able to handle the knowledge? He sighed and headed the car for home. It would be a long week; he had to hope that one or the other would keep him in the loop or he would worry.

Charlie sat across from 'Lynda with a y' and listened as she talked about her recent forays into gambling and how well she'd been doing. She said her family had always told her she had luck, and that it was turning out to be very true. He had been nursing his one bottle of beer since joining her in one of the many lounges scattered along the perimeter of the casino and had tried to see if there was some kind of spark to be had. There was nothing. And he was bored. When had he gotten so cynical that not talking about his equations or his work with the FBI made him feel bored? He should be more open to relationships with people from outside his background and field. Maybe he just had to come to the realization that he would always be drawn to someone he shared interests with. But if that were true, wouldn't I have stayed with Amita?

He smiled and nodded his head at timely intervals as he continued to half listen to Lynda talk. Maybe I could back out now and claim that my injury is bothering me, that I have to go up to my room and take my medication and rest? I have to get out of here or I'll explode.

Charlie waited until there was a lull in the conversation before mentioning that his arm and shoulder were bothering him. "It was nice to meet you, Lynda. I had a wonderful evening sitting here chatting with you. Perhaps we'll run into each other sometime before I go."

He tried to escape her grasp, but she reached out and trapped his hand that had been holding his beer. "Are you staying here, maybe we could meet for breakfast and continue spending time together?"

Charlie hated lying, but he wasn't above it when it suited his purposes; especially like now. "Actually, I'm staying with friends and we have plans for tomorrow. I don't know what they are or when we'll be doing them, because they're just fly by the seat of their pants kind of people, but we'll definitely be busy. I'm sorry. Really, if I run into you again while I'm here, we should have drinks again." Charlie stood up and gently squeezed the hand that had captured his. He knew that she knew it wouldn't happen -- that they wouldn't run into each other again. No phone numbers were exchanged and no last names were given. Charlie heaved a sigh of relief as he left the casino. He couldn't get to the shuttle fast enough.

He thought of going into one of the lounges at the Renaissance and then drinking himself into a nice mellow oblivion, but he decided against it and went instead to his room. He took some of his medication with a glass of tap water, then stretched out on the turned down bed. He thought briefly of trying to struggle by himself into preparing for sleep by undoing his sling and trying to get out of his worn shirt, but gave that up for the moment while he waited for the pain to fade away as the medication kicked in. As he lay there, Charlie thought over the entire night and wondered if the epiphany he'd had about Don just over twenty-four hours ago was what had kept him from wholeheartedly pursuing the beautiful woman he'd just left with hardly a hand shake. Had he been bored because his mind couldn't fully concentrate on the here and now and part of him had been subconsciously mulling over the situation he was currently in, the reason he'd fled his home for a vacation that he hadn't even made plans for two days ago?

Man, my brain hurts just trying to untangle that question. All Charlie knew was that even when he wasn't trying to think of Don, he was thinking of Don. He'd tried to escape his older brother, and he couldn't. As the prescribed medication washed the pain in his shoulder and back away, Charlie drifted off to sleep thinking of what he would need to say to Don and his father when he called home tomorrow. He knew he should have called at some point during the day, and he still had time this evening, but the thought of it caused his stomach to heave and he shuddered in fear. I'll just sleep on it one more night. Perhaps things will be clearer in the morning.

As the night progressed, so too did Charlie's dreams. If he were awake and aware, he'd likely label them as nightmares more than fantasies, but while he slept the sleep of the lightly medicated, his fantasies were something any red blooded woman or gay man would love to see in real life. Don was slowly stripping Charlie of his clothing, trailing kisses down every inch of exposed skin. Neither man was hampered by their current injuries, and so the dream progressed as irrational and illogical as dreams are wont to do -- they were naked in the blink of an eye and well on their way to climax by rubbing and grinding against one another. Charlie didn't dream of learning and exploring the new territory of another man's body, just of being enthusiastic and eager to love.

Don was physically and emotionally tired by the time the cab dropped him off at the front of the Renaissance Hotel. It was just after eleven at night, and he should have been at the hotel and checked in two hours ago. He had sat as patiently as possible in the terminal and on the airplane as delay after delay had occurred. He thought his luck on his travels had changed when on his arrival he had found a cab with some ease, but that thought died a quick death when just after leaving the airport, the road the taxi was on became a parking lot. A four car pile up had happened just a mile up the road and no turn off was available close by. He knew the hotel wasn't far from the airport, and if his leg hadn't been bothering him for the last hour, he would have easily walked the rest of the way.

He limped into the lobby and was approached by a porter almost immediately. He thanked the man as he handed over his bag and the two of them went up to the check-in desk. After Don had registered into his own room, he tried once more to find out information on the room his 'brother' was staying in without the use of his badge and credentials, but when the attractive woman with the slowly dimming smile was about to hail the night manager, he hauled out his badge and told her that he needed to find his brother to help with a case. She looked at his badge with caution, and still called for the night manager anyway. Don's leg was throbbing at that point, and his head was about to explode from the tension and anxiety. He didn't need this hassle, but he had to find some way of getting in touch with Charlie this evening without alerting Charlie first to his presence. If it was because of Don that Charlie had run, he didn't want to have the man run yet again by being forewarned.

Don noted the manager's name badge on the hotel issued blazer and then looked directly into the man's eyes. "Mr. Lauer, you can call the FBI headquarters in Los Angeles to verify I am who I say I am, and if you do, please be quick about it. I was shot this past Tuesday in a hostage situation and my leg is killing me, so I would just love to get to my room as soon as possible to lay down. Oh, and thinking on that, I should probably rent a safety box from you to store my weapon in while I'm here."

Don pulled out his gun from inside his jacket and he showed his license to carry a concealed weapon as well. He'd already had to show it once while going through airport security, but he knew that precaution and safety on flights was paramount and hadn't begrudged showing proof.

"Certainly sir, I'll just be a moment then."

"Then I'll go wait," Don turned and pointed to some seats in the lobby area, "over there."

Don asked the porter to go ahead and deliver his bag to his room, while he waited and handed over his key-card. "I'll be sure to tip you when you come back with the card." He gave the other man a tired smile and watched as he departed. The chairs in the lobby were actually comfy and had a tall enough back that Don could lean his head against it and close his eyes for a second. He was interrupted once, on the return of the porter, and he thanked the man again and tipped him for his help. The lure of sleep though was great, so he closed his eyes while he waited once more.

After what was probably only ten minutes, Don felt a light touch on his shoulder and he jerked awake. "What?"

"I apologize Agent Eppes. Your home office sent a fax to verify your identity and confirmed that your brother also consulted with the FBI. He's located in room 503. I took the liberty of calling his room after seeing if he was in, but there was no answer. So he's probably asleep. Let us know if you or your brother need anything while you are here."

"Thank you, Mr. Lauer. We appreciate that." Don thought briefly of just heading straight to his room, but knowing that Charlie was definitely in and not likely to be going out anytime soon, he headed for room 503 instead.

As he stood facing the door, he reconsidered his actions and then shoved them aside. Perhaps by waking Charlie from sleep, Don would get a more honest answer in the response Charlie gave when he answered the door. Don knocked three times loudly on the door. Then waited about half a minute, before doing it again. He repeated his pattern twice more, and was just about to give up when the door swung open.

A bleary eyed Charlie stood before him, and Don watched as Charlie tried to blink some of the sleepiness away. Don held his breath, as he waited for Charlie to recognize him and what stunned him was the beautiful smile that graced Charlie's face as his bro..cousin said his name. Before Don could respond, Charlie reached out with his left hand and grabbed a hold of Don's shirt and dragged him into the room. Don's breath caught as he felt Charlie's lips press against his in the sweetest kiss he thought he would ever have.

TBC