Chapter 22

DRIVING HOME

The glass diffracted the lights of traffic against an inky blue night sky into a dramatic dance of reds and whites and yellows, and there was a peaceful droning noise as the tires glided over bumps and dips in asphalt. The comfortable softness of the back seat held him suspended in what could have been weightlessness, with all of its disoriented joy and upside-down reality.

Aware of the silence, and hoping it wasn't an awkward one, Don glanced at Charlie and Alan. They seemed as content as he was. Charlie caught the look and impulsively reached out his hand, entangling his fingers in Don's. Don looked out the window again, letting the lights blur with their peace and dancing unpredictability, beauty the only constant. He tightened his hand around Charlie's, unwilling to look away.

Maybe that had always been his problem, not being able to look away. Being wired to look right at the horrors. But if you closed your eyes, you missed this beauty. If it took the devastating blankness of a jail cell to bring out the incredible peace and beauty of LA traffic in the evening, maybe it also took the horror of human violence to make a man truly feel what it was to be loved, to appreciate the exquisite feeling of a tender touch, to fully feel this.

And what of the constant fight against numbness? How many murders, how many suicides and grieving family members, how many hours in a cell before the human psyche simply called it quits and decided not to feel? I won this time, but what about tomorrow? Can you keep remembering that it's worth it?

His eyes drifted away from the lights and onto Alan's face reflected in the rearview mirror. Further, onto Charlie's endearing attempt to relax and give him space by engaging in intense study of the passenger door lock.

Yeah. I think that'll be doable.

EPPES RESIDENCE

Don's black FBI rig was parked where he'd left it on the day of his arrest, and he gave the warm metal an affectionate pat, wondering who had been thoughtful enough to return it to him.

"Close your eyes," Charlie asked, grinning. Don obeyed with an awkward smile, and Charlie led him to the back yard.

"Open your eyes," Don heard his brother say. It seemed symbolic. Open your eyes. The nightmare is over.

Don heard crickets and a crackling fire, and opened his eyes.

The back yard was filled with chairs, and a low fire danced in the firepit. Robin, Alan, Amita, and David were smiling at him with upheld champagne glasses, and David pressed a glass gently into his hand.

"Welcome home, son," said Alan.

"Don -" Robin couldn't finish the sentence before diving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair, seeking out a soft cheek with his lips. There was a tear running down it, and he wiped it away with his own cheek. They didn't kiss at first, but simply pressed their faces and bodies together in the deepest possible embrace.

"You - are the most wonderful thing I -" he whispered, stopping in mid-sentence to kiss her on the cheek. He'd been so afraid in the middle of those long days, with nothing but time to think, that she was going to be gone when it was over, that this was the sweetest and most unbearable sort of relief. "Thank you." The soft fingers wrapped around the back of his neck twisted themselves in his hair almost angrily, pulling him even closer.

"Are you all right?" Her voice shook, and Don closed his eyes, his face tracing along hers until he found her lips and kissed deeply. Don forgot everything for that moment, content to let the world with all its pain vanish completely.

"Of all the ways to lose you…." Her whisper was unsteady, and she tucked her cheek against his chest. He stroked her hair with his fingers, trying to reassure her. Trying to reassure himself that she was actually there, and this wasn't just him in a cell thinking up fairy tales that would never come true. "God, Don. I was so scared."

He tucked his head down against hers. "Me too, sweetie. Me too." He wondered if there could be any greater comfort in this world than the feeling of her body held against his with such intense care and trust. "Did you ever think I -"

"- was guilty? No. Not for a second."

He held her even tighter, and after a moment a hesitant voice asked a question of her own. "I wasn't there for you."

"We both had to sit this one out," said Don. He stroked her back, hoping his touch would reassure her in ways he couldn't accomplish with words. From the way her body melted in his arms, he guessed that his message had gotten through. Finally they separated, with Robin keeping one arm wrapped possessively around his back, to Don's great delight.

His eyes fell on his brother, who was watching with the sort of sideways look that spoke of shy embarrassment, but when their eyes met it was something a great deal more. That expression he'd seen in school, at the FBI, in his shrink's office, and somehow managed to take for granted.

Adoration.

Every thing I've put him through, and one of the most renowned minds in the world is looking at me with unconditional love.

It struck him that he'd hugged Charlie twice in his adult life, and both times in the midst of utter heartbreak.

Amita's kidnapping, my arrest. Oh, and if you can even count that as a hug, shivering in my arms after a sniper almost killed him. Never just because I love him.

"Come here, Chuck," said Don, waving Charlie over. "I think we have a hug to finish."

Charlie approached, but he stopped and faced Don squarely, his bearing so focused and adult that for a moment, Don mistook it for anger. It wasn't.

"I'm in awe of you," said Charlie. "I'm in awe of what you do, and who you are as a person. You amaze me."

Don blinked, unprepared for the blunt intensity of Charlie's words. Unable to respond verbally, he simply did what he had planned to. He hugged his brother. After a moment of awkward tension, they relaxed, and Don gripped Charlie even tighter, thinking about all the times he hadn't done this. "You were my lifeline in there, buddy."

Charlie didn't say anything. He just clung to Don, shaking slightly just the way he had before they were ripped apart at the detention center. Don suspected he was crying, but if he was, Charlie kept his face well hidden.

Alan turned towards the table and set to work sliding slices of pizza onto the plates so that his two sons wouldn't see the emotion on his face. The years of wondering if he would live to see this moment, or even if they themselves would live to see it....

"Is it seriously raining?" asked David. He had been hanging back quietly, unwilling to intrude on the moments he was being allowed to witness. He held out his palm and felt the wet sensation of raindrops beginning to fall on his skin. "Et tu, Pasadena." He and Alan exchanged glances and sprang forward as one to grab food to rush inside.

"Where?" David and Alan stopped and glanced at each other, wondering where to set up now that the idea of an outdoor party had been nixed so inconsiderately by the weather.

"Solarium?" suggested David. Alan nodded approval.

"Solarium, huh?" asked Don, as touched as he was amused. "Outdoor picnic? You guys think now I can't handle walls?"

"I've no doubt you can handle pretty much anything," said Alan in a dry tone. "But if I were in your shoes, I'd be pretty tired of them, that's all."

"You got a point," agreed Don. "Still, eggshells crunch pretty loud underfoot." He looked around and asked David, "Where's everyone from work?"

David gave him a sheepish, sideways grin. "Walking on eggshells," he admitted. "We thought that – well, you know, what if Colby get drunk and started shooting at stars in a galaxy far, far away, or Liz and Nikki –"

Don rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Not sure my delicate constitution could take that horror."

"A little help, David?" said Alan, balancing pizza boxes. David grinned at Don and turned to help Alan.

It was raining, but warm. An invigorating wind filled the night air, and Don stopped on the way in, drawing in a deep breath and letting the raindrops fall on him, enjoying the cool sensation of their slow trickle across his skin. The lights of the house were like a friendly beacon through the rain, and he closed his eyes, savoring every second.

Charlie watched as his own heartache of the last month was replaced by that joy. Don stretched his palms out to catch the raindrops, a delighted grin growing on his face.

SOLARIUM, EPPES RESIDENCE

Amita raised her glass. "To my future brother-in-law, who has meant more to more people than he will ever guess."

Don raised his own glass. "To faith, and trust." He hesitated before adding his last words. "To love." His eyes searched out each person in the room, one at a time.

"All the forces of the universe fight to tear the earth apart, yet gravity holds us together," said Charlie. "Larry said that once, and I always thought it had deeper meaning."

"You know," Don swirled his glass and watched the bubbles float upward, as convenient an excuse as any not to make eye contact. "The first time I went to temple, I was just feeling it out. Thing is, I'm standing there, and the whole thing was so - beautiful."

He sipped at the champagne, stopping to enjoy the crisp bubbles on his tongue. "Think I went in because it humbled me, knowing this – this work of art was devoted to something unknowable."

Don drew a deep breath, realizing his eyes were so averted that his head was almost twisted sideways. The expectant silence behind him was worse than facing them and finishing the damn speech.

"I don't like how hard this was, my life in the hands of other people, no control over my future…." He looked at them, and saw understanding. "This is every bit as humbling, because I am just in awe of what you did for me. I feel like that took so much love, and faith, and those things are what I'm feeling now because of you."

Don held up his glass, and closed his eyes. "Thank you for this."

"To the things that humble us," said David softly, raising his glass to Don's. The others joined, and Don took a large gulp before striding to the window and staring out. The choices seemed at first to be jumping out the window or tears, and either option was plainly unacceptable.

"I seem to remember somebody promised me pizza," he ventured.

"Nice soggy pizza, now," said Alan. "Would you like the Portobello mushroom and water pie, or the pepperoni with acid rain reduction?"

"Oh, stop whining, dad." Charlie rolled his eyes. "You're the one who wouldn't let me set up a weather forecasting model to determine the likely success of an outdoor meal."

"Kinda' quiet, David," observed Don, walking up beside him.

David smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I'm just wondering how many months it's going to be before your heart stops sinking when you open the door and see us out there."

Don explored the bubbles in his champagne at length. "How long did it take Colby?"

David took his own time studying his glass. "I don't know that there is any such thing as better or worse when it comes to trauma. Maybe just who we have at our side, and I have to wonder what happens if they're the same people who arrested you."

"Yeah," said Don, a look of affection settling deep in his eyes. "You know, the last time I had a real partner was Billy Cooper?"

David looked puzzled, but let Don continue. "I mean, we work together, I think we care about each other, I just never thought it would run this deep."

David gave him a half smile. "You're a moron."

There was something deeply happy in Don's return grin. "Well, I just gotta say, my family feels about three times bigger." He reached out and clinked his glass against David's.

Don's phone rang, and he checked it. "Video feed. From Colby," he said, pressing the answer key.

"To celebrate your release from jail, and your unhealthy obsession with interrogation footage, I am proud to announce that we here at the LA Violent Crimes Squad have done a little fabrication of evidence ourselves." Colby held out a DVD and wiggled it at the camera with a wickedly amused smile that caused Don's heart to sink at the teasing this doubtless meant he was going to be enduring very, very soon.

"I do not obsess!" Don protested. "You got the wrong Eppes brother on that count." He glared at the noise his complaint caused. "Colby, was that a snicker?"

It happened again. "No, Sir." Colby cleared his throat with a cough. "Your rampant abuse of the instant replay button on the interrogation room CCTV feed is just a hobby, we all understand that."

Liz's voice called out from off screen. "Here, aim it at the monitor." After a moment of swinging blurs, the picture focused. "Okay, we got it. Hit play." Nikki obeyed, grinning. "Enjoy the preview!"

In the black and white of their standard interrogation footage, Don half threw himself across the table at a suspect, shouting in feigned rage. "I did not -" the camera did a quick cut to a very similar scene "- have sex with that man!" A moment later, he was sitting on the metal table, thoughtful. "How do you define that?"

Don yelled in the phone. "Colby! I'm going to kill you…."

Nikki laughed in the background. "We love you too, boss."

Footage was still playing on the monitor, and Don saw a suspect handing him something. "What's that, a sex tape?" Don's recorded voice asked. The scene shifted, subtly this time. "Like me and Robin?"

"Colby? Do the words 'serious breach of professional conduct' mean anything to you?" Despite his words, Don was grinning broadly, and the affectionate tone of his voice couldn't have been missed by those on the other end of the line.

There was a long shot of Don, looking soulful and sincere. His eyes blinked and the scene faded into black before he spoke. "I happen to love vampires."

The video cut off, and three voices spoke in unison. "Welcome back, Don."

Don was blushing when he slipped the phone back into his pocket, but his eyes were filled with joy. He sat down and grabbed a slice of pizza. "Ya' know, maybe these things should happen to all of us law enforcement types. See what it's like to get stabbed, sent to jail, have your friends kidnapped by psychopathic killers -"

David threw up his hand to stop him. "I think maybe the country can do with law enforcement personnel who aren't psychotic."

"Are you saying that one Don Eppes in the world is quite enough?" asked Alan. "Because you don't want to offend the man who provides the pizza."

"I have to say I find this idea of yours quite disturbing as well," said Charlie. "Uh - does your mandatory stabbing program extend to math consultants? Because I don't think it's possible to emphasize enough how not okay I am with that." He dodged the lazy kick Don aimed in his direction and returned it with flung popcorn.

"I'd hate to see your version of Quantico," said David. "What would the final test be? Load the graduating class on a plane with terrorists, and if they survive they get to be agents?

"Hey, I used to instruct at Quantico," protested Don.

"I know," said David. "Believe me, I've heard the stories."

Robin walked up and wrapped her arms around Don from behind, kissing him when he laid his head back against her and closed his eyes in contented bliss. "You planning to party all night, or does the girlfriend get you alone with strawberries and champagne at some point?"

"Mmm." Don smiled, not opening his eyes. "Chocolate?"

"Definitely."

He tilted his head up and kissed her. "Just give me a few minutes with dad," he whispered. Don let his head rest against her for a few more moments, not wanting to move.

Alan was standing at the window, looking out at the yard in the rain. Don walked up and stood at his side. "That wasn't the sort of champagne you just pick up at the store on a Saturday night."

Alan was silent for a long time before replying. "I bought it a week after you were arrested. It was either go crazy or plan for your release, so I opted for champagne."

Don grinned. "Good choice, dad." He held up his glass in a toast. "To party planning as family crisis management."

"Donnie." Alan waved him over to the table, upon which a large white bakery box sat. "Come on over and open up your cake."

"You got me a cake?" Don flashed them a grin. "Better not be my birthday already." He pulled off the lid of the box and stopped, the banter gone from his manner. Arranged across the expanse of white cake was a pattern drawn in plump raspberries. "That's -"

"The big dipper," Alan finished, smiling.

Dear Hollywood Production Executives: I'm well aware of the irony of casting you as the villains in a story that wouldn't exist if it weren't for your bringing us a television show that I love dearly. Sorry about that. But someone had to be the villain, and quite frankly this ending simply had a better ring to it than, "And then Charlie discovered that Don had been framed by a Mexican clown wrestling syndicate. The end."

Dear Readers: Thank you so much for being with me through the writing of this, and for your support and reviews. I hope all of you will check out the dedication now posted at the beginning of the first chapter. I have another Numb3rs fic in the works, but it may be a while before I have it plotted out carefully enough to start writing and posting in earnest.