A/N: Welcome to a continuation of the Perception Deception trilogy. Readers should re-familiarize themselves with the first story, Perception Deception, to fully enjoy the following experience.

Disclaimer, Applicable to Entire Story: In the case of fanfiction, the author(s) will usually give a disclaimer saying that the author(s) of the fanfiction do not, in any way, profit from the story and that all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s); in the Numb3rs universe, those creator(s) are Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci.

Perception Deception Part 2: Audrey

by Rabid Raccoons

Chapter 1: 20/200

Charlie stood in line at the deli, smiling. He had even caught himself humming during the brief walk from the taxi to the restaurant.

The last several months contained negatives; that much was certain. Finding himself on the run with Don, leaving his brand new fiancée behind, was never how he intended to spend his summer vacation. Pneumonia, a broken arm, and serious eye injuries hadn't made the list either. And of course, the fact that J. Everett Tuttle and Audrey Montague had so far avoided being linked to the electronic funds transfer fraud that sent the brothers Eppes underground in the first place - that was a hard pill to swallow. In truth, Charlie was still trying to connect some dots, make enough connections, and present to the authorities the unmitigated proof of Tuttle's involvement. Don seemed to have moved on, though, and Charlie would die before he would worry Amita over this case again - so he was keeping his research to himself, for the time-being.

Despite the negatives, Charlie was feeling happy, today. He felt...lighter, and quite literally. It was almost Halloween. When the new school year had begun a month ago, Charlie had received unwelcome news from his orthopedic physician. The cast had been due to come off his arm the same week school started, but an x-ray had shown that the fracture was not sufficiently healed. Charlie had been surprised; true, he had experienced more pain for a longer period of time than he had really expected - he had even been forced to refill his tramadol prescription - but he hadn't been expecting to lug the cast around for another four weeks.

In retrospect, however, the cast had been somewhat fortuitous. His smile faded as he wondered what he would use for an excuse now. It had been easy to convince people that his balance was adversely affected by the bulky cast; when his compromised eyesight occasionally caused him to veer off-course (on at least two occasions, he had walked right into a wall); the casted arm was a ready scapegoat. Now that the doctor had finally removed the cast, Charlie wasn't sure how to handle those awkward moments.

He placed his order and began to smile again as he waited for it to be filled. Maybe he wouldn't walk into any more walls. As of two weeks before, the gas bubbles inserted to help his retinas reattach had been completely absorbed in both eyes. Vision in his left eye was already 20/60, and improving rapidly; Charlie's own theory was that the left eye was trying to compensate for an obviously weaker right eye. Well, more than weak – he actually could see very little out of his right eye, but he was trying to be optimistic. The doctors had told him that the right eye, after sustaining two injuries, would take longer to heal. He tried to do as much of his own work as possible, but his eyes tired quickly. Amita was always willing to help, but Charlie did not want her to know how marred his vision still was, so he was relying much more heavily on his TAs. Charlie's ophthalmologist said that vision correction would be prescribed when the visual acuity numbers stayed the same for two months in a row; until then...well; Charlie didn't need two perfect eyes to know how beautiful Amita was, or to understand how happy she made him.

Besides, he found it a little amusing, in one way. Once again, he found himself waiting on the numbers.

...

Don pushed the rolling chair back a few inches from the desk and suppressed a groan as he rose to his full height. Paperwork - even virtual paperwork; it was the bane of his existence. If he had not been sitting at his desk for so long, his knees would not be protesting now when he stood, and he would not have to hide the fact that he was Just. Getting. Old. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking over the cubicle dividers toward Colby, who was still punching at his computer's keyboard with a scowl on his face, and David, who was standing near the printer, apparently waiting for a hard copy of his report. Liz was on vacation, and Nikki was on loan to the Sacramento field office, which had been hit hard by the H1N1 virus. "You guys up for lunch?" he asked.

David smiled in his direction. "Always," he answered, gathering his report and heading back to his desk.

Colby glanced up, harried. "What?"

Don laughed. "Looks like you need a break, Granger." He opened the top drawer of his desk and reached for his car keys. "Let's get out of here for awhile, guys."

Colby still didn't understand that lunch was involved, but he didn't have to be asked twice to abandon his report. He depressed the Save button and stood just as the elevator dinged to signal an arrival. "Sold," he responded.

The three men met in the corridor between their desks, then headed for the elevator, Don in the lead. As he rounded a slight curve, however, he was confronted by the jack-o-lantern grin of his brother. A bulging take-out bag from the deli just down the street - a favorite lunchtime haunt of the agents - hung on one of Charlie's arms; he balanced a cardboard drink tray rather precariously. He seemed relieved to see them. "Hey," he greeted. "A little help, here?"

Colby surged forward like the ex-linebacker he was. The tray contained one soda, and three large cups of coffee. Granger reached for the soda. "Tell me you brought me Dr. Pepper," he ordered. "Even if it's not true."

Charlie laughed. "Take it, Colby; I didn't forget. Don, David, can you guys grab two of the coffees?"

Don and David coordinated their efforts, leaving Charlie holding just his own cup. Don tried to get a peek into the bag. "What's in there?"

Charlie let his brother remove the bag from his arm. "Everybody's favorites," he answered. "One roast beef, one pastrami and Swiss, one turkey, one cream cheese and avocado...four pasta salads, and a dozen fresh chocolate chip cookies, from Dad."

Colby licked his lips even as he crinkled his nose. "Avocado and cream cheese," he muttered, shaking his head. "Amita is going to make you a vegetarian. I just know it."

The group snickered, and Charlie protested. "Trust me; I don't think I'll ever give up red meat." He seemed to redden. "She has broadened my horizons..."

Don started to lead the agents and his brother to the lunch room. "Too much information," he teased, passing Charlie. "What's the occasion? You just barely caught us."

Charlie fell into step on Don's right side, sipping at his steaming cup of coffee. He was tempted to close his eyes in bliss, but he had a hard enough time seeing where he was going when he had them open. He held up his cast-free arm and wiggled his fingers. "It's off," he announced. "I thought I was early enough to catch you guys - you told me last night that you'd be catching up on paperwork all morning."

Don arched an eyebrow and smiled. "Hey, congratulations! Yeah, we were heading out a little early, before Granger's head exploded."

Colby wasn't so far behind them that he hadn't heard that comment. "We were going to lunch?" he asked innocently. "Hurry up, guys...I can smell those cookies from here."

David grinned. "Seriously, Charlie; thanks for lunch. Perfect timing - and congratulations on losing the cast, man."

Charlie turned his head slightly to thank David; unfortunately, he did this just as two other agents exited the break room. Charlie was looking toward David; the peripheral vision in Charlie's right eye was not good enough to register movement near the break room door. Before he could speak, he and one of the other agents had walked right into each other. Charlie's eyes widened in shock and his cup of coffee tipped toward his chest. He jerked back when the hot liquid began to spill, and the bulk of Colby Granger pushed him forward again. He yelped, dropped the cup, and immediately tripped over it. Almost faster than anyone could comprehend what was happening, Charlie fell onto his outstretched arms, crying out in pain once more.

...

Aaron Shulman had a passing familiarity with Agent Don Eppes.

The physician was not an observant member of the Jewish faith, himself; a situation which caused no small amount of heartache for his father, Rabbi Shulman. Aaron was not adamantly opposed to the faith, however. He and his parents managed to stay very close; sometimes, he even visited his father at the synagogue. It was there that he had briefly crossed paths with Agent Eppes. Aaron no doubt would have immediately forgotten the meeting, if his father had not asked him, a little later, if he would accept the agent's brother as his patient. The orthopedic specialist currently had a full case load - he was not even accepting referrals from other physicians - but his father rarely asked him for a favor. When he did, Aaron remembered the tired and slightly haunted expression on Don's face...obviously; the man could use a break. Dr. Shulman was busy, perhaps even somewhat faithless - but he was not without a heart. He had readily agreed to become Charlie's doctor.

It was a good thing, too. Dr. Aaron Shulman was busy because he was damned good at his job. A lesser physician might have taken Charlie's arm out of its cast on schedule, which was too soon. The fracture was slow to heal. By the time he was making that decision, Aaron had all of Charlie's medical records - and he wasn't surprised. The body could only do so much at one time. Between pneumonia, the eye injuries and the fractured arm, the arm had taken last priority, as far as his body was concerned. Healing white blood cells were on the job elsewhere for several weeks. The extra month in a cast may have been annoying to Charlie, but it had done the trick. A properly knit bone should be stronger than it was before being fractured; in Dr. Shulman's considerably respected opinion, such a state had been realized.

Still, when Charlie appeared in his office within two hours of having his cast removed, his arm slightly swollen and a clearly worried brother glued to his side, Aaron performed a cursory exam before he sent Charlie back to his radiology department. He knew Charlie well enough to see that he was growing frustrated and feeling smothered, so he suggested that Don wait in the exam room; there wasn't a lot of room in radiology, he said - even though, in truth, he had spent nearly three hundred thousand on a remodel the year before. Don appeared distraught, but Charlie flashed the physician a tiny smile of relief, so Aaron Shulman went with his instincts. He usually did, and doing so had served him well so far.

He opened the exam room door for Charlie, then paused before he followed him into the corridor, smiling reassuringly at Don. "Relax," he counseled gently. "I know your brother has been through a great deal this year. That can be as difficult for the family members as it is for the patient. I'm fairly certain the x-rays will confirm my belief that his arm has not sustained additional damage."

Don didn't look convinced. "It obviously hurts, and there's swelling," he retorted, almost accusingly.

Dr. Shulman's tone remained comforting. "Charlie's arm has been in a cast for a long time; the muscles are weak. He'll need some serious physical therapy to remedy that situation. I've already referred him to a therapist. With some ibuprofen to treat the inflammation and pain, I'm sure he'll be fine in a few days. He's very lucky he wasn't seriously burned by the coffee."

Don nodded, his frown deepening. "I guess it had cooled enough," he mumbled. "But you said he had a couple of second-degree burns. That's bad enough."

Aaron closed the door and turned to fully face Don, the expression on his face empathetic. "Only one small patch," he reminded the agent. He thought for a moment, then continued, his voice soft. "These accidents will happen, as Charlie adjusts to his new level of sight. Of course we don't want him seriously hurt again - for example, he's not driving, and he needs to be especially cognizant in situations like crossing a street, or descending a staircase. What we have to remember, is that we don't want him to become paralyzed by fear, either, and become a recluse. I think it was a very good sign, his taking a taxi to the deli and then to your office, bringing everyone lunch. He's really doing quite well, considering that he is legally blind in his right eye."

The doctor stopped speaking abruptly. Don Eppes had paled so dramatically, Shulman was afraid the agent might pass out. Aaron stepped away from the door and placed a steadying hand on Don's upper arm. "Agent? Are you all right? Perhaps you should sit..."

He tried to lead Don toward the only chair in the small exam room, but Don pulled away from him. He backed into a wall and looked at the doctor as if he had just told him that Charlie was dead. "He's what?" he whispered.

Shulman winced; he had made a serious and regrettable error, assuming that Charlie had told his brother about his right eye. "I'm...I'm not an ophthalmologist," he stammered, flustered. "It was in his records. It's only been a few months; his vision could still improve...please forgive me, I thought you were aware of your brother's condition..."

"So did I," choked Don, moving forward to fumble with the door knob.

"Please, Agent Eppes," began the doctor, but Don interrupted, his back to the physician.

"I've gotta get out of here," he said, jerking the door open. "Tell Charlie I'll wait for him in the car."

...

End, Chapter 1