Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or anything connected to it.
Author's note: Okay, I tried for funny. I guess I got more mushy. Hope you still like.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Don stepped off the elevator at work, whistling quietly to himself. He had had his first- and not final- date with Ms. Sloane (Grace) the night before. The date had been a casual one at a small, intimate Italian eatery, the soft candle light hazing the signs of aging that had snuck up on them over the past twenty years. Between the ambient facial touch-up and the butterflies in his stomach, it had been easy for Don to believe he was an eighteen-year old again, out with the exacting simile of the secretary he remembered from his youth.
Life was good-
"Eppes- need to see you a minute". Merrick called Don from his fantasies.
Don stepped into the director's office, official posture and serious expression overcoming his body as he quickly tried to assess the situation.
Ward Rooney was sitting in a chair in front of Merrick's desk. He, too, sat in an official posture, a stern look overcoming his face when Don chose to stand to the left of Merrick's desk. Don's attempt of showing authority by standing while the principal sat was not lost on any of the men in the room.
"Please, Special Agent Eppes, take a seat", Merrick directed Don to a seat that was placed halfway between the director and Rooney, to the right of Merrick's desk. The positioning of the chair between the two men was not lost on Don, but he sat anyway, directing his attention to his boss.
And the four large files on his desk, each bearing the name "Eppes, Donald Adam" in bold, black marker.
Don recognized his disciplinary records from high school. He was confused, though, as he thought it was school policy to dispose of them when a student graduated. Ahhh, he thought, Rooney. He then flashed a look to the principal, who threw a less-than-professional grin back toward Don that only lasted a moment. With a little trepidation, Don looked toward Merrick, waiting as butterflies again filled his stomach- maybe they were more like moths, as they felt heavy and beat hard against his insides.
"You know", Merrick began to explain, sliding into his chair, then leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, "according to Principal Rooney here- you remember him, don't cha- some unusual things have happened at his school this past week- as a matter of fact, they seemed to have started exactly the Monday after career day- kinda weird, he thought, as the only two speakers he had were two highly respectable professionals" Merrick paused, looking pointedly at Don- "who had given talks about two highly respectable fields"- again the emphasis with his eyes- "so, it would seem something must have occurred that had nothing to do with either of the speakers."
To the amusement of Rooney, Don could not help but to shift in his seat.
"However," Merrick continued, "Principal Rooney stated that he seemed to remember similar incidences happening at the school before- quick-drying cement in the doors of the school offices, paint placed on the arms of the office chairs, all the printer cartridges stolen from every computer in school over the past week- and fake hall passes (it seems the school has been blanketed with forged passes, with 50-100 kids roaming the hallways every hour, with every one of the students insisting that Rooney wrote his or her pass himself). Well, these things struck a memory chord with Rooney, as he thought, these occurrences were not unlike a series of events that happened at this same school years before- oh, maybe twenty years ago- to be exact. "
Don did not shift in his seat. He was absolutely immobile, the only movement on his body the sweat that started to seep into his hair.
"So," Merrick sat upright, talking low and hard to Don, "Principal Rooney decided to dig up all the old files from that year, and, luckily, he was able to find the files of a former student who had been suspected of performing the same kind of, uh, pranks, during his junior high school year."
Merrick's voice volume started to rise with every sentence. "A former student who had a long case history of performing pranks throughout his entire high school years."
He now sat at the edge of his seat. "A former student who just happened to have been invited to give a lecture about THE FBI, AND NOT HIS FORMER HIGH SCHOOL HIJINKS".
Merrick was yelling now, throwing the nearest one of Don's files at him, catching the agent off guard as he tried to catch the papers, his failure resulting in a pile of papers all over himself and the floor.
Rooney could hardly contain himself- but he did.
Turning to Merrick, he stood up and shook the director's hand, all professionalism and seriousness, as he spoke to Don's boss.
"I am now positive that you will follow through with the disciplinary action that we agreed would be appropriate for Special Agent Eppes' most unbecoming conduct."
"Yes, yes", Merrick waved a hand in the air, "I am a man of my word."
With that, Rooney left the office, carrying Don's earlier whistle with him.
Don leaned over, grabbing papers and shoving them back into the file that lay in his lap.
When he was done, he boldly grabbed the other three files from Merrick's desk and deposited them all in the nearest trash can. Only then did he sit again to face the wrath of his boss.
Merrick shook his head.
"That guy really has it against you, Eppes- and from what I read in those files, I guess I can't blame him- that is, if this were twenty years ago- some people just never let go."
Don smiled, relaxing a little as the tone and volume of his boss' voice became friendly.
"I'm not just talking about Rooney letting go, you know," Merrick looked at Don, hoping he was getting his point across. And he was. Don became embarrassed; he suddenly realized that within the few short hours of time that he had spent at his old high school, he had risked his career, the reputation of the job he loved, and had poorly influenced a group of minors to do things that put at risk their own futures- all for the sake of an immature and over-bloated ego.
"Sir, I am sorry at the position that I put the Bureau in, and that I would allow myself to be such a negative force upon those students. I am embarrassed and ashamed of myself and my actions."
"Well, Eppes, you should be. Rooney came in here threatening to sue us, take this to the press- but between that idiot principal and myself, we were able to agree on what he thought was 'a punishment to fit the crime.' So, he backed off of his threats."
Don responded with enthusiasm, "Well, I'll agree to anything- six months desk duty, an appropriate talk with those kids- hell, I'll even apologize to Rooney in front of-"
Don was cut short by a gruff 'hurumph' from Merrick.
"I said we agreed on a punishment that Rooney thought fit the crime- if it was up to me, I'd just stick you on that desk duty. Got a lot of reports need writing up. However, if I want to avoid the scandal, the consequence must satisfy him, not me, so you're stuck with what he thought up."
Listening to Merrick, Don realized the moths in his stomach had transformed into bats.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Don was eighteen again. The clock read 3:57. He had to be signed in to detention by 4:00 or he'd get another day for every minute he was late. He pushed past streams of teenagers going in the opposite direction- shoving a little harder than he meant to- everything around him becoming a blur- voices blended together- he was trying to be on time- because he knew Rooney would be watching- making sure that his nemesis would get the appropriate discipline for not arriving on time or doing the work he was given. Don was perspiring- his shirt clinging to his back- he tripped over the feet of a Freshman student- who glared at him, but reconsidered when he noticed Don's size. Freedom lay in the opposite direction, a path that Don could not take. He desperately needed to be on time, so he took the stairs two at a time, running down the hall to the assigned room. Don was out of breath when he pushed through the door to detention.
Just as he thought, Rooney was sitting behind his desk, watching the clock on the wall, smiling at Don as he rushed into the room, trying hard to get in more oxygen.
The clock had just turned to 4:00 as he quickly signed his name on the paper in front of Rooney,- Special Agent Donald Eppes.
With nervousness gripping every inch of his body, Don Eppes was eighteen again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Principal Ward Rooney smiled as his former student entered detention hall. Normally, he was not in charge of detention, as it was a position beneath his current status as head of the school; but he wouldn't-just couldn't- miss doling out the punishment he had gotten that idiot Merrick to agree to give to Donny Eppes.
Rooney was quite pleased with himself.
First, he would be embarrassing Donny Eppes in front of his peers; he was confident with the way office gossip was that it wouldn't be long before every FBI agent in Los Angeles knew that the 37-year old agent had been assigned one week of detention to be served at his old high school, the same punishment as the students to whom he had given his 'lecture'.
Second, he was having Eppes serve the detention with those same five students, so they would see what he himself had always known about Eppes- that, FBI Special Agent or not, the guy was irreparably a loser. Rooney was convinced that this knowledge would make the students change their minds about the attire they were currently proudly sporting. Rooney laughed in his head- he was sure they wouldn't wear it again.
To Principal Ward Rooney, life was good.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After Don signed his name on the detention sheet, he took two worksheets with a list of words from Rooney, a pencil, and a dictionary. Merrick had made it clear- either he serve detention for two hours a day for a week, or he would be put on leave without pay, pending review. He could not be late- Rooney could add a day for each minute he was late. He also had to do the simple work the principal supplied on a daily basis- Don was sure it would probably be a week of looking up definitions, something not beyond his capabilities. Rooney could also add a day for unfinished work. Finally, Don had to behave. If he disrespected Rooney in any way, argued with him, made any cracks- so much as looked at the principal funny, Don was looking at another week. If it continued, he might be disciplined at work, as well.
When Merrick had recited the terms of the punishment, Don heard Rooney's words of twenty years before as a mocking curse reverberating in his head-
"At the rate you're going, you'll be serving detention well into your thirties."
For the first time in twenty years, the name Detention Don no longer made the agent feel proud of having won in a fight against a teacher who should never have gone into education.
In the end, Rooney had won- and he had gotten his revenge.
Don turned to walk down the nearest aisle, his head hanging low, when he noticed there were five other occupants in the room. To his dismay, there sat Joey, Adam, Miguel, Jeff and Ben. This was a nightmare for Don.
All five boys were smiling at Don, sitting up as far as their bodies allowed so they could proudly display that they were all wearing T-shirts that had "Detention Dawgs" written across the front in black permanent marker. Looking for the agent's approval, their faces became landscapes of confusion when they observed Don start walking down the aisle, his head looking at the ground, until he finally squeezed himself into a desk at the back of the room.
Realization crashed the students' looks of stupor, their faces and bodies all twisting down in their seats, the proud air that had previously puffed them up leaking from them as they whispered-
"He's how old and they can still give him detention?"
"I can't believe he still has to do what Rooney says."
And, almost in unison-
"Man, what a loser."
Don ignored the stares that the five boys threw his way. He chose, instead, to open the dictionary and try to concentrate on the work he had to finish. It was difficult, though, especially after he glanced up and saw that each boy had a list of their five names on the back of their shirts, also written in marker.
It didn't matter how long it had been since he was in high school- Don recognized that these boys did everything together, and probably meant everything to each other. Rooney was probably as hard as he could be on this mishmash group of boys, and they had struck out at the principal in protest- in Don's mind, probably with good reason. He remembered how badly Rooney had abused his authority as a teacher- how much more was he abusing his power now that he was principal?
And Don had let these boys down, cowing to the principal when they so wanted someone to understand how they felt- to understand that Ward Rooney was an ass but one in authority, so they had no other way to express their dislike (hatred) toward the man other than to cause him trouble. It was easy for Don to view this trouble-making as harmless, in this age when students shot their teachers over something as simple as receiving an undesired grade. After all, cartridges could be returned to printers, cement could be chipped out, passes could be gathered up- but the fragile ego of a young boy could never be repaired when someone like Rooney took his razor tongue to it.
The more Don sat and wrote, the angrier he became, frustration building as he knew he could feel the way he wanted to feel, but he could not act on it.
After an hour, a bathroom break was called. Don was careful not to go until the other five detainees had come back. When he got up to stretch his legs and take his break, Don noted that the Detention Dawgs had turned their shirts inside out – the teens' silent way of distancing themselves from the agent.
Don sighed, took his break, and sat down to work. Merrick had been right. There were times when people needed to let go. He just wasn't sure if this was one of those times…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At a quarter to six, the detention hall was absolutely quiet. Six heads were peering with tired eyes towards books with writing that was starting to bleed across the page. Ward Rooney, principal extraordinaire, sat at the front of the class, reading a magazine, well-pleased with him self. Four more days of this, he thought, and those boys would be throwing wads of paper at Donny Eppes, calling him names under their breath, and trying to pull a few pranks on him when Rooney conveniently turned his back. He knew their anger would be better-placed if it were directed toward the man who had betrayed them, rather than the principal himself.
He had just turned the page in his magazine when he felt a fly land in his hair.
Reaching up, Rooney was surprised to feel a small paper airplane was somehow stuck in his hair, a squealed cry of of "What?" leaving his lips.
He quickly looked up.
So did the five teens in the room.
Seeing the plane stuck in Rooney's hair, five pairs of eyes followed the path that Rooney's took, to the back of the classroom, where one Special Agent Donald Eppes sat quietly working, his head tilted down as he continued to write definitions on the paper in front of him. Rooney was about to make an accusation against the agent, but realized that the edge of the other worksheet he had given him was sticking out of the dictionary he was using. The principal quickly shifted his gaze to the teens; he tried to stare the guilty student into confessing, but they all looked as confused as the principal himself.
The blank stares of the students were too much for Rooney. He stood up and tore the plane from his head, about to start yelling, when he realized too late why the plane had stayed so well within the lines of his hair.
A large wad of wet gum had been placed on the tip of the plane.
This same gum was adhered to his hair.
This same hair was not so adhered to his head.
To the entertainment and laugher of five teenage boys, Principal Ward Rooney pulled plane, gum, and expensive toupee off his head with one strong tug.
Glaring at the back of the classroom, anger and frustration flooded Rooney's body as he observed Don sitting in the back quietly ignoring all that was happening around him, his head still tilted downward as he continued to write.
Rooney swore loudly and violently as he stomped out of the room, toupee swinging in his right hand, slamming the door behind him, but not so loud he couldn't hear the cries of "Nipplehead" that echoed down the hall as he practically ran to his office.
The laughter in detention hall began to die down, then the five teenage boys began to ask each other, "You?" "No?" "You?" With each negative response, a sneaking suspicion came over each boy, as they nudged their chins to the back of the class.
"Now, that was smooth", Ben whispered, trying not to be heard by Don, wonder and awe in his voice as none of the boys were able to figure out how the agent had pulled it off.
At a suggestion from Miguel, the boys nodded at each other in agreement, turning their shirts right side out, and laying them out on their desks. Quickly, a marker was passed around as a sixth name was added to the list on the back of each shirt.
Don allowed himself a quick glance up, the flurry of activity of the teens in front of him catching his eyes. He was quite pleased with himself when he saw that the boys had not only put their shirts on correctly, but they had also written in letters twice the size of anything else on the shirt- the name Detention Don.
Suddenly, five pairs of eyes were staring at Don. Glancing at the door to make sure Rooney wasn't returning, Special Agent Donald Eppes lifted his head and stared back into the faces of the five teens, finally allowing a most-wicked grin to spread across his face.
And in return, the approving smiles of five future FBI agents beamed back at him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, mush, mush. I haven't written finished, cause I decided I liked the idea of Don becoming a mentor to these boys. My summary for the next few chapters will run something along the lines of:--Don lets Ms. Sloane talk him into becoming a mentor for the Detention Dawgs, but does he get in over his head- literally- when he volunteers to sit in the dunking booth their group is assigned at Octoberfest. I figure if I blow that story idea, at least the idea of Don getting wet may distract people from that fact.