Disclaimer: I do not own the right to Numb3rs or characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

Author's note: Still doing DD- of course, those chapters are about 3-4 times longer, so take more time to write. Sorry.

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Lonely rivers cry, wait for me, wait for me

I'll be coming home, wait for me

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"Hurry!"

Charlie grabbed his father's arm, dragging him down the hospital corridor that had become a familiar track to them long since Don had been admitted there. They stopped outside a room in intensive care, looking through the window and trying to see what the doctors were doing to Don, frustrated that their view was blocked by the bodies of various medical personnel stepping busily around him, their hands working quickly.

"When did he wake up?" Alan asked. He leaned his forehead against the glass, willing the blur of motion to stop so he could see his son.

"About thirty minutes ago. He doesn't understand why he's hooked up to all those machines- Doctor Hadiya said he could have torn his esophagus the way he ripped at the ventilator." Charlie stared guiltily into the room. "I tried to calm him down, but he wouldn't listen."

Alan raised his head and gave Charlie a reassuring smile. "Your brother is stubborn- I doubt a long sleep has changed that one iota."

They watched as the bustle of activity slowed. One by one, the personnel left the room, only a single doctor and nurse remaining. Alan and Charlie waited to be invited in, both because they didn't want to disturb the ongoing medical ministrations and because they wanted time to think about how to answer the bundle of questions Don was sure to ask them about the time he had been in the hospital. They're hesitation to enter the room was whisked away when Don sat upright and threw his legs over the side of the bed in an attempt to leave. Charlie and Alan rushed into the room and sided with the medical personnel, helping them carefully but forcefully lay Don back down.

"Dammit! I'm alright." Don struggled against four sets of arms. "I don't want to be here anymore!"

Alan firmly told his son, "Stay still!" Adding gruffly, "I'm too old to be fighting with you."

Don guiltily looked at the strain in his father's face. He eased his movements, settling back onto the bed. With a sigh of relief, the nurse repositioned his legs under the blankets and reattached several wires that Don had pulled loose amidst the throws of his endeavor to escape.

Dr. Hadiya looked at Don's chart, murmured a few comments and then addressed her patient. "Agent Eppes, I understand your desire to depart from this place. However, you must have a thorough physical examination first. If everything checks out, you can leave tomorrow morning- is that agreed?"

Don nodded sullenly.

Before the doctor could leave, Alan took a hold of her arm and steered her to the door of the room. "Tomorrow? Won't he need physical therapy or something? I've been reading up on his condition and never heard of someone leaving within a day of"-

Dr. Hadiya pushed a long strand of black hair behind her right ear. "Don's mind and lungs were in a coma but the rest of his body was functioning perfectly fine- he might be a little stiff, a little disoriented, however, I suspect the tests we are going to give him will confirm nothing more than that. Once he understands what happened and adjusts to the time loss, I do believe he will be more than capable of going home tomorrow. Really, I could probably release him within a few hours, but I do tend to be cautious."

"Well, thank you for that, I guess." Alan's brow burrowed into three crooked lines. "Should we be the ones to talk to him about what happened to him- or do we need to wait for a psychologist?"

"I think it would be best if you and your son talk to Don. It has been my experience that news of this sort is better received from loved ones who can offer proper emotional support." Dr. Hadiya checked her watch, made a notation, and turned to leave. "Just in case you're a little worried about his mental and physical condition, I'll prescribe bed rest for a week." She winked at Alan. "Make it impossible to refuse an offer to stay with you."

Alan grinned at her. "You must have been reading my mind."

After the doctor and nurse left the room, Alan quickly returned to Don's side. Charlie was sitting on the bed opposite to him, refusing to let go of Don's hand despite his brother's attempts to pull himself free.

"So, sleepyhead, how do you feel?" Alan asked.

"Fine, perfectly fine. I don't understand why they just don't let me go home." Don tugged on his hand, but Charlie's grip tightened in response, making Don roll his eyes in exasperation. "Buddy, let go. You're acting like it's been years since you saw me."

Charlie exchanged a glance with his father, one that was not lost on Don.

Sitting up suddenly, Don finally managed to free himself from Charlie. "It hasn't been, has it? I mean, years?"

"No," Alan told him. He put his hands on Don's shoulders and forced him to lie down again. "But it has been over a month."

Don's eyes widened and he ran his right hand across his forehead. "Over a month?"

Charlie took advantage of his brother's distraction and grabbed his left hand, this time holding it with both of his own, stating, "Actually, it has been forty days- almost to the minute from the last time anyone had contact with you in Dandridge Woods."

Don stared at the ceiling, his eyes clouding over. "Amanda Jane," he whispered dreamily.

Alan started brushing his fingers through Don's hair, something he had been doing habitually ever since his son had first been admitted to the hospital. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Yes, and...no."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I remember finding Amanda Jane dead- and I don't want to talk about that. But I want to know what happened afterwards- I can't seem to remember anything after calling in our location to the rest of the team." Don's eyes lowered to his father's. "Megan- has anyone contacted her? Let her know I'm awake?"

Charlie kept his eyes on Don's hand and his own, silent, leaving the question to be answered by their father. "No, Donny," Alan said softly, "I don't think she'd want to be here."

"Why not?" Don asked nervously. "She's already moved on? I mean, it's only been a month...?"

"Forty days," Charlie reminded him.

Like Charlie, Alan decided to sit on the bed besides his son, taking his right hand and holding it tight. "The circumstances," he began, then stopped to rethink his words, "the way they found you in Dandridge Woods- it upset her, Donny. You don't remember anything that happened after finding that child and her mother?"

Don closed his eyes, trying to picture the recent past. Finally, he opened his eyes, shaking his head. "No, just seeing Amanda Jane lying there so...so... I really don't want to talk about...about her." Don frowned. "What do you mean after I found Amanda and her mother? Dad, nobody else was there- just me and Amanda."

"That's all you remember, Donny?"

"Yes. Dad, please- tell me what upset Megan."

"Donny, I read the reports- David slipped them to me, and I have to admit, I was also disturbed."

"What...what was wrong?"

Alan sighed. "It was just, I don't know- the whole thing was so strange. Megan and Colby found you in the last position you gave them- on the bank of a stream. Amanda Jane was there- they said the poor child had been dead for some time. But her condition, unfortunately, was not what they found unusual." Seeing the dread that filled Don's eyes, Alan hesitated to continue.

"Dad, please, I need to know what happened."

Because of his own discomfiture, Alan was unable to look at his son any longer. He turned away before he explained, "Don, Catherine Crowell was there with you, on the embankment. You were wrapped in her arms, legs all tangled up, the two of you bundled together next to that dead child."

Don began to sweat. He sat up, leaning into his father's shoulder, whispering in his ear. "We must have fainted or something- it wasn't anything else. I swear I'd never, not with a victim's parent...not right next to a dead child...oh, please, don't tell me Megan thought we were...I wouldn't, Dad, I swear...I couldn't."

"I know, Donny. It's just, you and Catherine Crowell," Alan turned to look directly in Don's horrified eyes, "you were both naked, Don, no clothing or gear within miles of where they found you. Believe me, they looked."

"What did Ms. Crowell say about it?" Don asked, desperate to know how they had ended up that way, the memory lost to him.

"Nothing, Don," Alan replied sadly, "she was unable to say a thing. I think that is what upset Megan so much, seeing you two lying there naked in each other's arms, your lips locked onto Catherine Crowell's so strongly they had to literally pry you apart. Only, Donny...

Catherine Crowell was dead."