Welcome to the third and final installment of the Rabid Raccoons extravaganza, Perception Deception. Please read Perception Deception and Perception Deception Part 2 - Audrey to fully enjoy our last installment: Perception Deception Part 3 - Tuttle.

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 3 - Tuttle

by Rabid Raccoons

Chapter 1: Homecoming

Don lounged in his father's recliner, nursing a beer, and frowning as he studied his brother. Charlie sat quietly at the dining room table, head tilted in that new awkward way that meant he was accommodating for his eyesight, pecking away at his laptop. He was half blind and completely miserable, and both situations were Don's fault. First, he had dragged his little brother all over the country and come close (more than once) to getting him killed. Then, he hadn't been cognizant enough of the lingering effects of Charlie's injuries. His own brother had become addicted to pain medication, right under his nose. As if that weren't bad enough, Charlie had continued working the Tuttle/Montague case; Don had at least suspected as much. Truth be told, even though he had protested, he had let Charlie keep plugging away because he had hoped his brother might find something...work his usual magic. Charlie had found something all right - and Don had let them both barge into yet another dangerous situation like clumsy bulls in a fine china shop. No backup. Charlie almost killed - again. And the physical ramifications paled in comparison to the biggest casualty of all: Amita had finally reached her limit. Charlie and Amita should be married by now, or at least knee-deep in wedding preparations. Instead, Amita's engagement ring was upstairs in Charlie's sock drawer, and Amita was cooling her heels in Switzerland. Don's fault, all of it. Some big brother he'd turned out to be.

Robin settled on the arm of the chair and blocked Don's view of Charlie. He scowled up at her, and she smiled nervously. "Hey. I come in peace." He grunted, looked away and swallowed some more beer.

Robin tried again. "It's nice to have Larry back from Europe." When Don still didn't respond, she continued. "It will be good for Charlie."

Don looked back at her, dark eyes blazing with barely repressed fury. "Oh, yeah," he answered sarcastically. "That's why Larry and Dad are playing chess in the solarium and Charlie's sitting out here all alone."

Robin pulled back a little, her spine straightening. "Of course Larry's return is a painful reminder that Amita chose not to come back at the same time...but Charlie will get past that. At least she's speaking to him again."

Don kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the growl it contained. "He'll 'get past it'? Yeah, what's a broken engagement compared to going blind and almost dying?"

Robin flushed and her expression became less sympathetic - and more angry. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," she whispered. "Amita told Charlie she'd be back around spring break; that's just a few more weeks. Maybe the time apart will have been good for them." She stood abruptly, raising her voice to a normal tone. "I've heard that a break can do wonders."

Don stared at her for a moment, then slammed the recliner footrest to the floor and rose to his own feet. "I've heard that, too," he snarled, before draining his beer. She crossed her arms over her chest and held her ground, lifting an eyebrow but saying nothing. Now that he was standing, Don could again see Charlie at the dining room table. His brother worked on, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the living room. He was rubbing his temple now, as if he had a headache. Don started for the kitchen, taking a wide berth around Robin. "I need another beer," he grumbled.

She didn't argue. She just let him go.

...

Special Agent David Sinclair gazed out the tiny window and watched as the lights of L.A. seemed to come toward the aircraft. He wondered what kind of reception awaited him.

Oh, there would be nothing at the airport - how could there be? He hadn't told anyone he was coming. Sure, A.D. Wright was expecting him in the office bright and early that Thursday morning, but even he didn't know exactly when David was arriving in town. Not for the first time, David mused about how he should spend the week. He had already contacted his old landlord, who had a vacant apartment and was happy to rent to David again. Sinclair hadn't taken all his furniture with him to D.C.; he'd rented a furnished place and put everything in storage, as if somewhere, in his deepest soul, he had always known he'd be back. He had an appointment to meet the movers at the storage facility in the morning. Everything would be back in an apartment that looked eerily like his old one before noon. He would spend some time stocking up at the grocery, unpacking the two bags he'd brought with him, connecting various utilities...but any way he looked at it, David was still going to be faced with a few days of downtime before he was due at the office.

The aircraft's wheels touched down with a jolt, and David briefly closed his eyes. He hoped this wasn't just another in a long line of bad decisions. His eyes snapped open and he frowned though the window at the tarmac. Maybe he should just get off the plane, go to the nearest ticket counter and buy a ticket to...Aruba. Somewhere. Anywhere. After all, he hadn't really intended to get his old job back - he had only contacted A.D. Wright for some advice when the new job in D.C. hadn't panned out the way he'd planned. Promised his own detail in a new, groundbreaking unit, he was surprisingly less than disappointed when a renewal of the government funding for the new venture suddenly fell through, to the shock of everyone on David's new team. His new superior promised to try to find him something else in D.C., but David didn't want to wait. He missed Los Angeles. He missed working with people who understood and respected each other.

He missed his partner.

When Wright offered him a position in the L.A. office, David had been surprised - and obviously tempted. Then Wright told him it was his old job, as second-in-command on Don's team - and David seriously backpedaled. How could he just show up, after all these months, and start telling people what to do? He refused the position outright. Finally, Wright agreed that putting David into a position of authority might not be a good idea; he would tell Don to name someone else - and Sinclair would fill out the team as just another agent. It would, Wright warned him, be viewed as a voluntary demotion. David thought about it for almost three weeks, weighing the alternatives; he could also choose to put in for a transfer and just go where the wind blew him. In the end, he decided that he wanted the wind to blow him home.

David sighed and stayed seated, still staring out the window, as the other passengers struggled to claim carry-on luggage and hurried to clog the center aisle of the aircraft. He had to let the team know he was coming. It wouldn't be fair to simply show up. Wright had agreed to let David inform Don that he was rejoining the team, but he was pretty sure Wright expected him to do that before he actually appeared in the middle of the bullpen. The entire team was expecting somebody - Wright said that in the few months David had been gone, three junior agents had already washed out, and the team knew that next time, Wright would be bringing in someone with some serious experience - but he'd left the details up to David. It was a display of respect, certainly, and not a gesture David should ignore.

So, he owed Phillip Wright: for getting him the gig in D.C., then for welcoming him back to L.A. just a few months later. God knew, he owed everybody else. He'd let down the entire team. He had let petty jealousies and hurt feelings affect his leadership; he owed LIz and Nikki for that. His head wasn't in the game when it should have been, and they'd almost lost the Eppes brothers; he owed Don and Charlie for that. He hadn't trusted the best friend and partner he had ever had, hadn't looked past appearances to the heart of what made it such a good friendship and partnership; God knew, he owed Colby for that. David wasn't sure he could make it all up to everyone - but he knew that he had to try.

...

J. Everett Tuttle was, by nature, a careful man.

Apparently, he had not been careful enough. His trusted assistant, Ralph Nardek, had completely blindsided him. It was a fact of life that was difficult to live with, but one that was easily remedied. When he had first returned to the States, Tuttle had almost gone to the prison to visit Nardek. After all, he, Tuttle, was not a wanted man; he had been cleared in the investigation into last summer's Eppescapade, and had been out of the country during Ralph and Audrey's ill-fated attempt at de-Eppesifying the world. In the end, he decided not to go. The last thing he wanted to do was set himself up as a suspect when Nardek was found dead in the prison yard.

That should happen any day, now. J. Everett Tuttle was also a man with contacts. It helped that one of them, his former right hand man, Derek Mace, was being held in the same correctional facility. Nardek had tried to take Tuttle's money and his bedmate - and the money part really pissed him off. It was almost a shame that little Ralphie would not live to regret his mistakes.

Tuttle had gone to see Audrey; mostly because he didn't trust the bitch. After all, it had turned out that her idiot brother, Vincent, was not such an idiot. The supposedly comatose man had laid flat on his back and summoned the cavalry; there was always the possibility that she was faking it, too. So Tuttle had located her in a state-run nursing home - disguised himself in a red wig and a thick pair of glasses, and signed the visitors' log as Dr. Scott Carson, Omega Research Institute. Carson really existed - he was part of the research team that had freed Mark Vincent's mind, and was now helping run the foster home Vincent had set up in Audrey's house. Tuttle had seen Carson's name in the newspaper articles he had read.

His visit to Audrey had revealed an emaciated woman with graying hair who bore little resemblance to the Audrey Montague Tuttle had once known. She actually made his skin crawl a little; it repulsed him to think of the number of times he had been inside that. He left convinced that she wasn't a threat; in fact, the nursing staff had told him that she was prone to infections, and not expected to live much longer. He wondered if he could somehow bluff his way into Vincent's foster home. He didn't see Vincent as a threat, either; he just wanted to meet the man. Congratulate him, even. In the end, he decided it wasn't worth the risk; he just re-read all the news stories he could find, and made an anonymous donation to the Vincent Brain Research Facility.

Nardek, Montague and Vincent taken care of, J. Everett Tuttle settled into his home in the hills above Los Angeles and took his time making his next set of plans. The Eppes brothers had screwed him repeatedly, and he would not let them win again.

This time, he was going to make them wish he had just taken them out.

The internet search engine coughed up pages of material on Dr. Charles Eppes. There was so much to wade through that Tuttle almost missed the engagement announcement, listed in an issue of the paper several weeks prior. He probably would have missed it, if not for the dark beauty in the attached photo. She had definitely caught his eye. He studied the photo for a few moments; saw the way the professor gazed at his intended. He remembered that Agent Eppes also had what looked to be like a serious relationship - with Brooks, the ADA who had taken Audrey down the first time.

Tuttle leaned back in his chair and smiled. Maybe it was time to admit he couldn't shake the Eppes brothers; maybe he needed to find a way to make them play on his side for awhile. He had no doubt that he would be able to convince them to carry out his requests.

They would probably beg for it.

...

End, Chapter 1