Note: Set during season three or four of Numb3rs, reference to Blackout. Set between season three and four of Leverage. References to The Wedding Job, The Stork Job, The Fairy God Parents Job, The D.B. Cooper Job. Big spoilers for The Morning After Job. Also, thank you to my good friend dietcokechic for the beta read and also to TimeLord98 for her help.

Don Eppes could feel the headache before he opened his eyes. It started at the back of his skull and just radiated forward. His left shoulder was shooting pain down his arm, and his body ached. He tried to reach up and touch his head with his right hand—but he couldn't. His arms remained firmly pulled behind his back, and he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs pressing into them.

Suddenly a lot less groggy, he squinted, blinked a few times, then fully peered out at the room around him. The walls were gray cement, at least 25 feet high. Several stacks of cardboard boxes stood around the room, and the only light came from a somewhat small window near the roof.

Without his watch, he didn't have much of a concept of what time of day it was—he couldn't see the position of the sun, but the light was pretty good. Looking down at himself, he could see that his gun, badge, cell phone, radio and Kevlar vest were all missing. He couldn't see his feet, but he could feel the bonds fastening them to the legs of the metal chair.

Tilting his head back, he searched his mind for the memories of the morning. He'd been with his team to conduct a bust on a house suspected of being a key point for an interstate drug distribution ring. He'd sent David and Colby to take the front with SWAT, and he and Megan had taken the back.

When they got inside, Megan had gone right, and he'd gone left. The first door he opened led to a basement, and he'd gone down to clear it. Actually, it looked kind of similar to this warehouse room, only with a lower ceiling. He'd crept around stacks of cardboard boxes and some typical clutter. Just as he neared the far corner of the room, he'd felt an intense pain at the back of his head, then nothing. Clearly someone had been down there with him, and he'd let them get the jump on him.

He sat up straighter and looked around again. There was nothing to indicate where he was or how many other people might be in the warehouse with him. Nothing happened for hours, not until the sunlight from the window began to fade. That's when the door at the far side of the room opened, and a heavyset man in a flannel shirt, jeans and a ski mask walked in.

That he was bothering to hide his identity was probably a good thing, Don thought. At least they might not be planning to kill him.

"So you're graduating from selling drugs to kidnapping a federal agent?" Don said.

The man walked toward him slowly, not reacting to Don's words at all.

"You weren't so shy when you clocked me in the head," Don said.

The man reached him and slowly lifted a water bottle in one hand and unscrewed the top, moving it toward Don. Don turned his head away, but the man landed a fist hard on Don's cheek, grabbed his hair and yanked his head backward. He forced the bottle into Don's mouth and poured the water in.

Don tried to spit it out as it came in, but the water was pouring in too fast. Swallowing was certainly better than breathing in the water, so that's what he did. After what seemed an eternity, the man stopped pouring and took the bottle away. Don coughed and sputtered. He tried to say something, but the no sound would come out until after the man had left the room.

A few minutes later, the cardboard boxes he was staring at seemed to be getting fuzzy around the edges.

Great, so it *was* drugged, he thought.

His eyelids seemed to be sinking down, as much as he fought them, and soon, his chin slumped to his chest, and he was out.