A/N: This is it! Really. I promise. Only 3 times longer than my original estimate! I've had a great time writing this, and it has helped me in more ways than I can count. I hope you all enjoyed reading it almost as much as I enjoyed writing it. But if not, that's alright. I won't be offended. ;) So here it is, the last installment to Pain and Failure.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
Megan walked into the bullpen expecting to be the first one at work. Looking toward the war room, she found that her expectation was wrong. Don was sitting on one of the tables, feet on the seat of a chair. His head was down, hands together, pressing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes.
Concerned, Megan set down her stuff on her desk and made her way to the war room. Don hadn't moved, apparently unaware of her presence in the bullpen.
From what she could tell, he'd been doing fairly well of late, even managing to deal with some really rough cases. In fact, he'd been doing so well that she'd started to let down her guard with looking for signs that he was struggling. Had there been anything before this? She couldn't remember. Silently, she rebuked herself for not doing her job and for not paying enough attention to notice these things any more.
"Hey, Don. What's going on?" she asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.
Don lifted his head up and looked at her briefly before dropping his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
Megan's eyes grew wide. What had happened? Should she have seen it coming? "What are you sorry about?"
"I screwed up. I'm sorry," he repeated. Before she could ask what had happened, Don rolled up his sleeve. A single cut was visible on his right tricep.
"What happened?" she asked quietly, trying to still sound neutral. The last thing that Don needed was for her to freak out, condemn him, or express disappointment.
"I was at the batting cages last night. That's one thing that's really been helping me lately. When I was done, I bent over to pick up my keys off the ground inside the cage. Part of the chain-link fence was sticking out, and my arm snagged it. It wasn't much, but it started to bleed. When I got home, I cut it back open. And then, all the pain was gone, just like that. One cut. And everything I've been working toward for the last ten weeks… gone. Just like that. One cut. God, I screwed up. I am such an idiot. I guess everyone was right to worry about me."
Megan stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. "No one thinks you're an idiot. It'll be alright, Don. You should talk to your psychiatrist about this."
Don looked back up at his partner. "I've already called and scheduled an appointment. First opening is in an hour. I also called and got a meeting with Merrick for this afternoon."
Megan finally pinpointed the tone in Don's voice. It was despair. "Don, I don't think Merrick's going to fire you just because of this."
"It's well within his rights," Don replied despondently. "He already warned me."
"Yes, it is within his rights. But it isn't really in the Bureau's best interest. Talk to Dr. Gibson before you do anything, okay?"
Don nodded.
"You want some coffee?" Don shook his head.
"If you need to talk, I'm here."
"What can I do for you, Agent Eppes?"
Don sat down across from the shrink, unsure of how to begin. "I… I screwed up."
"How so?"
Don recounted the same story he'd told Megan. "I don't know… going to the batting cages has helped me a lot. It just doesn't give the same level of release as cutting. I can hit baseballs for hours and still not feel like the pain is all gone, when I know all it would take is one cut."
Dr. Gibson nodded. "I'm going to be totally honest with you. I don't think you'll ever find something that works quite like cutting. Really working through pain takes time, but there are things that can help you. Like batting."
"But I blew it. I cut again. God… I didn't even think about doing it, I just… did."
"How long has it been since you last cut, other than yesterday?"
"Seventy-three days," Don rattled off immediately.
"Seventy-three days before you relapsed; seven weeks of that was time you spent in the field. I'm not going to justify your behavior, and neither should you, but relapsing once isn't the end of the world. It probably won't even be the end of your FBI career. What matters is where you go from here. Do you want to cut again?"
Don's response was quick, but not immediate. "No. I really don't. And I'm not just saying that because my job is on the line. I've spent ten weeks learning to live and cope without cutting, then I do it one more time. It did release the pain, but now I have to live with myself, knowing that I let everyone else down. Knowing that I let myself down. I think I'd rather have the elephant sitting on my chest. Because as much as I thought I had control because of the cutting, I was wrong. Cutting controlled me, not the other way around. I don't want to have to go through all of this again, just to stay free of the knife."
Dr. Gibson smiled broadly at the agent. "Don, that's it. If anything, I think relapsing might have helped you. Just remember everything that you just said to me when it gets hard. When you really want to cut. You blew it once… no one expects you to be perfect. Just learn from it, and move on."
Don had one lingering question. "So where does this leave me, as far as therapy is concerned?"
The shrink smiled. Every agent he had ever counseled had one thing in common – the strong desire to not be in counseling. "Well, I still don't think you're ready to be completely rid of me. However, we dropped back to having sessions once a week a month ago. I think you're stable enough that we can continue with weekly sessions, and we don't need to go back to two sessions each week, unless you want to."
The look Don gave the psychiatrist was priceless, making Dr. Gibson laugh aloud. "I didn't think so. I'll see you next week then. If you have time to stick around for a couple minutes, I can write up a letter that should keep you out of too much hot water with your boss."
Don expressed his gratitude and agreed to wait while the shrink wrote the letter.
Merrick arrived in the office promptly at 1:30 pm. When Don saw his boss getting out of the elevator, he stood up from his desk and walked over to greet him. As he maneuvered around all the cubicles to get to the elevator, all three members of his team gave him little signs of encouragement - a thumb's up, or a small nod and a smile. He'd taken them all out to lunch and told them what was going on. Megan already knew, of course, but he wanted to keep David and Colby in the loop. After greeting Merrick, Don waited until they'd reached the conference room and shut the door before explaining why he had requested the appointment.
"What is this about, Agent Eppes?" Merrick started.
Following Merrick's lead, Don remained standing. "I wanted to inform you that I relapsed last night. I didn't plan on it; I didn't even think about it, it just happened. I'm not making excuses, I just want to be honest with you." Merrick didn't immediately respond, and Don didn't want to risk pausing and losing his nerve, so he plodded on. "I told Agent Reeves this morning when she got here, and I scheduled the first open appointment with Dr. Gibson. The psychiatrist and I have already discussed the whole incident, and he wrote his impressions and recommendations in a letter for you." Don reached into his suit coat and pulled the sealed envelope out of the inner coat pocket. He handed it over to his boss, adding, "I haven't seen what it says, but Dr. Gibson seemed optimistic about my progress."
Merrick ripped open the envelope so he could read the letter it contained. The next couple minutes while his boss poured over the letter were agonizing for Don. It seemed to him that it hadn't even taken Dr. Gibson this long to write the letter, what on earth could be taking Merrick so long to read it?! Finally, Merrick lowered the letter and looked at Don as if measuring him up. For a couple minutes, Don felt like he was a kid again, getting scolded by his parents.
"While I am not at all pleased to hear that you succumbed to your old habit, Agent Eppes, I think that Dr. Gibson's assessment is fair, and I am willing to give you another chance. This is it, though. Dr. Gibson's letter nearly assures me that you won't cut again. However, if you do, I will remove you from your position as team lead, and I will recommend to the FBI Headquarters that you be immediately relieved of your job as a special agent. As you are well aware, if I make such a recommendation, there is very little chance that HQ would disagree."
Don tried to keep Merrick's response in perspective. This morning, he had been expecting to be fired straight-up, so this warning should be an incredible relief. However, after his appointment with the shrink, who had been so encouraging, Don was taken aback by the harshness of the reprimand. When Merrick had finished, Don immediately responded. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Thank you for giving me another chance." His mouth felt as dry as if he'd eaten sawdust.
"As long as that is understood, we're done here," Merrick concluded. Don nodded and started to head out the door of the conference room. "I don't want to have to talk with you about this ever again, Agent Eppes," Merrick delivered his parting shot as Don stepped over the threshold into the bullpen.
Don turned his head to look at his boss. "You won't have to, sir," he responded with more confidence than he felt.
When Don returned to his desk, he was pretty discouraged with how that meeting had played out. However, as the minutes passed, he was reminded of Dr. Gibson's optimistic prognosis. True, he had relapsed once since starting therapy. But the relapse and its aftermath had shown him that he never wanted to go through it again. His motivation was no longer that his job was on the line, or that his family, friends, and coworkers had told him that he had to quit. Now, his motivation to stop cutting came from inside himself. He didn't want to cut any more. And it would take a hell of a lot to make Don Eppes do something he didn't want to do.
Thus ends my first Numb3rs fanfic. Thanks for sticking it out with me, ladies and gentlemen!