Disclaimer: Damn. I knew that legal document was important. Perhaps I shouldn't have used it as a gum wrapper. Oh well. Numb3rs and its characters belong to the wonderful writers at CBS.

Author's Note: Some spoilers for later episodes of Season Three. None that are too major or blatantly out there. Takes place before the whole Janus List escapade; thought it best to keep that out of this equation.

Special thanks to DB who has so graciously given her time to be my beta.

Correction, he amended his brain, he was rolling down the leeward side of the mountain; not falling. Falling would detail the absence of the very hard ground beneath him.

Rolling with no sign of stopping despite the scrapes on both hands that lent evidence to the fight that he had put up and was still trying to put up. There was no way he was going to simply allow himself to roll without even making an attempt to stop.

Yeah, Eppes, he thought to himself, way to go. Try to take on the mountain itself and see what the Fates decided to throw back at you to teach you a little lesson in humility. Nice one.

Traveling northward from his left ankle, fire lanced up his leg as his body slammed into a tree, and with that, all thoughts of self-chiding were kicked to the back of his mind. His body bounced off but his leg had other ideas, the force spinning him around so that he was upside down; his head now faced the slope and the blue sky and mountain top greeted him from way up above.

His body jerked painfully, the force from the protruding root that had leapt out and ensnared his ankle checking his downward movement. Don swore he heard both his ankle pop as well as his adjoining hip. If he hadn't heard it, then the pain sure felt like those two joints had.

At least he wasn't rolling anymore. That much he could be grateful for.

He lay there panting and sucking in great gasps of pure crisp mountain air. Don's fingers sank into the rough dirt intermingled with loose rocks of their own violation, some subconscious part of his being latching onto the idea that if his fingers embedded themselves into the mountain side, then he wouldn't slide anymore.

It seemed to be working as he hadn't shifted again.

The roaring in his ears died down, lessening in its intensity, and Don strained to hear Colby or any other signs of life. Only the roaring of the winds drifted back down to his audio processors, and he realized that he was alone, Colby having followed his order to give chase instead of coming after him. At least his agent had listened to his order this time, as opposed to the whole Dwayne Carter incident; it was surprising that Colby had indeed obeyed him as Don had issued it at the very beginning of this whole rolling experience.

Don twisted his face to the side. The ground was warm against his cheek from the afternoon rays of the sun. He coughed, sputtering as some of the dirt that wasn't compacted into the ground was inhaled. Still breathing heavily, he cast around, taking in the area around him.

It took an extra moment for him to adjust to the heavy stream of sunlight, but after a few seconds Don was able to see the scenery and take stock of where he had ended up. This part of the mountain had already been cleared away with only a few trees remaining. They were good old California Oak, just like the one his ankle was currently hung up on. A quick raise of his head –with only a marginal amount of pain included- brought the ledge, where the strong gust of Santa Ana wind had pushed him off, into his sight. He could still make out the blue tarp from the work tent as it flapped in the wind.

For a second he counted himself lucky that the tent had not followed him, but instantly realized a moment later that, unlike him, the tent was bolted into the ground to prevent this sort of thing from happening.

He also had to count himself lucky for the two simple facts that he had rolled instead of fallen, and that the ledge was closer to the base of the mountain than the actual summit. A true fall or a tumble from a higher position would have certainly ended in far more serious injuries than a sprained, if not broken, ankle and several bruises with a possible broken rib or two.

A fall from a higher ledge would have ended in his body splattering on the ground below. That would have been a pleasant sight for Colby to come back to. He could see the headlines of the papers now: 'Careless FBI Agent Falls Prey to Santa Ana Winds After Mountain Chase'.

That would just be lovely.

Guesstimating, because he wasn't Charlie and didn't possess his brother's genius mind, Don figured that his rolling escapade had only landed him somewhere around twenty yards below the slightly jutting ledge. Give or take another twenty.

Alright. Surroundings established.

Next step was to get untangled.

The slight sudden movement as he tried to raise himself to reach his leg immediately saw him back where he had started: lying upside down and panting in exertion.

Don blinked several times, gazing up at the lone Condor that seemed to be mocking him as it soared overhead. Stupid bird, he thought as its harsh cry called from far above.

This was ridiculous. Well, the whole situation was ridiculous, but him right here was even more so. He was not an invalid, nor was he some weakling. He was an athlete and a well fit federal agent who just so happened to be in peak physical condition.

What were a few cracked ribs, bruises, and a possible severely sprained ankle? Certainly nothing to him.

Time to get up, Eppes.

Now.

No excuses, you wimp. So what if you're thirty seven? That's no excuse.

Growling and cursing into the howling wind, Don braced both palms and pushed upward in one swift motion, gnashing at his back teeth against the sting of the cuts on his hands.

Suck it up, Eppes.

Using the momentum from his quick push off, and fighting through the pain, his stomach muscles clenched as Don used them to hold his position long enough for him to take a grab at what had kept him from rolling farther down the mountain. His arms stretched until his shoulders ached but his fingers closed around the offending root.

Taking a deep breath and counting to five, Don jerked his ankle out from underneath the root. He immediately began to slide and his hands shot out again, fingers sinking once more into the ground in search of a holding. The slide was definitely slower than his roll had been and it didn't take him but a few feet to come to a complete stop.

He waited for a few minutes and then began to shuffle backwards, scooting his body to the nearest thing that he could prop himself up against. The nearest thing happened to be a good sized boulder. He grimaced when he was no longer moving, finally able to take stock of everything that was wrong with him.

Air wheezed in and out of him, the harsh pressure from every breath telling him that he did indeed have a cracked rib or two. It took three minutes and several more curses later but Don had managed to ease his shoe off from his foot and roll down the sock just far enough to where he could get a good look at his ankle. It was already swollen and painful to touch, the myriad of bruising colors beginning to replace the warm tan of his skin. He didn't think it was broken as he could still move it. Probably just severely sprained. That was another lucky thing.

Casting around at his side, Don unclipped his cell phone, grimacing at the nicks and scratches that dotted the black surface of the company phone. That would be yet another piece of paperwork for him to fill out later.

The chipper woman working the F.B.I. switchboard cheerfully gave into his request for her to transfer him to Megan's desk. It somehow seemed unfair that the operator could be so happy back at the office, while the actual agent was baking under the hot sun with his sweat gluing both him and the black cotton of his shirt to the boulder behind him.

His partner answered on the third ring and after a brief explanation of where he was, Megan ended the call, promising to relay his position to the agents back down at the base of the trail. She only laughed a few times.

He would have to wait now. There was nothing else Don could do. If he tried to move himself and walk it off, he would never hear the end of it from the site medics, his team, Charlie, or his father.

Charlie and his father. That thought brought up something else entirely. Charlie would no doubt find the whole situation humorous after the genius assured himself that his brother was okay and got over his initial reaction of alarm. The ribbing and good natured jibes from his teammates would follow him for days. Hell, if it didn't hurt to breathe so deep, Don would be laughing at himself. The whole thing was funny, an accident typical of a new agent not an experienced one. It all came back to the damn annual Santa Ana winds.

But Alan? His father was going to be another situation altogether. His father had packed up and headed out for a conference three days ago, but he was due back tomorrow night. And there was no way his ankle or ribs were going to be healed by then. He was never going to hear the end of it from his father. He could take Charlie's teases and his father's chiding. But together?

The roll had cracked the face of his watch, and he looked down once more at his cell phone. Five minutes had passed since his conversation with Megan. That meant he still had another ten or fifteen to go before the agents made their way to him from the trail.

Don sighed, wincing as he forgot about his chest. He might as well use the time to come up with his explanation for his father once he got back.

He supposed that he could blame the winds. Or he could lay fault on the lady that had taken forever at the coffee vendor.

Yes, that was it. If the lady hadn't taken so long berating the poor guy for not getting her morning fix perfect, then Don wouldn't have arrived at the bullpen ten minutes later than he had scheduled. Then his team would have already been out the door and working on something else, instead of having the gross misfortune to be standing around when the unlucky call came through for this case. Sometimes it paid to skip the nicer coffee and just choke down the stuff from the office lounge.

While that story made sense to his mind as he was in a rather blaming mood given his circumstances at the moment, Don finally agreed with that nagging part of his brain that kept saying they shouldn't have gone up there after hearing the report that the winds were subject to change today.

Somehow he didn't think his father was going to accept the whole 'lady, coffee, late, wrong place, wrong time' story.

Don sighed again, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck and then moving it to slide through his hair. Dirt and other things fell from the movement, telling him that several rinses would be necessary to get all of the dust and dirt out.

Sometimes, he just hated Mondays.

Three Days Ago

Don closed the door to his Suburban, the distinct slamming sound eliciting looks from the dozen or so people standing next to the trail sign. Peering through the darkness of his shades, he noted that the majority of them were lab technicians, while the two with dark green jackets he guessed to be rangers familiar with this part of the Santa Susana Mountains. The black lettering over their breast pockets read 'Santa Clarita Woodlands Park', confirming their identities.

"Hey, Don." Colby joined him, moving to fall in step as he drawled out a warm greeting that matched the clear sunny sky overhead. "Nice morning for a hike, isn't it?"

"You're telling me."

It was a nice day. Away from the heavy pollution of the city, one could breathe in the fresh mountain air. A long hike in either one of the equally beautiful Santa Susana or San Gabriel Mountains offered a respite from the fast paced life of Los Angeles, even if it was for only a short while. Too bad Don never found much time to get out here. Life as a field agent consumed most of his schedule and any free time found him crashed out in a deep sleep or over at Charlie's house.

They were moving up the trail now, climbing and bending down at the difficulty of the incline, Don and Colby following somewhat behind the surefooted ranger. He didn't seem to have any problem navigating the twists, ledges, rocks, or roots that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Mid-day sunlight filtered in between the leaves of the oak trees around them. Squirrels chattered from over their heads and birds added their voices as well.

Looking to his left, Don could make out the next mountain range over. Pretty indeed. "What do we have, Colby?"

Information had been a little lacking back at his desk when the call had come through. Don had taken the chance at getting out after his morning; Megan had stayed behind, working on getting in her report on the now closed Fisher case. A call had discovered that Colby was still on his way in, having gotten caught in traffic on the 10. Being the closest to the scene, Colby had eagerly jumped at the chance to turn on the lights and carve his way out of the heavily backed up cars, agreeing to meet up with him at the trail head.

The younger agent seemed to be getting along well with the trail and its natural defenses. It wasn't like Don was out of shape, but running down a suspect on pavement was completely different than hiking up an advanced trail. "A pair of hikers found her this morning. They called it down to the station. Rangers have seen her before. Said she's not a regular, but for a couple of weeks now she's been coming up in this area of the Park. Never with another person though."

The Oak trees were thinner, having grown sparse as the three of them made their way higher. Likewise, the ground was evening out; it was less of an incline, and more gradual.

"It's right up here, Agent Eppes," the Ranger called out, disappearing behind a tree.

Don moved around the bend and was immediately buffeted by a strong gust of wind. The air was hot as it blew across his face, fluttering the slick material of his breaker. It was hard to hear over the deafening roar.

Before him was an almost miniature version of a switchback, jutting out in its turn to create a small little secluded landing that overlooked the range he had seen climbing up.

"Forecasters predicted that the Santa Ana winds are coming in today. That's why the two hikers were coming back down. Didn't want to get caught out here when the winds rolled over the ranges. That's when they found her this morning," the Ranger roared out, an arm covering his mouth in an attempt to block the kicked up dirt.

Pushed to the side of the trail was a body. The wind had died down, leaving a hot stillness in its wake. Don approached the medical examiner bent over the victim with quick steps. There was no telling how long before another Santa Ana gust would come through. The sooner they finished with this, the sooner they could move the scene and save it from the elements.

Claudia turned her head at an odd angle to look up at him, a grim smile coming over her face. A second later and he knew why. The victim was a young woman. An extremely young woman and if he had to guess, Don would put her at around twenty one or twenty two years. Her eyes were closed and her face composed in an impasse sort of look. She almost appeared to be sleeping, if you didn't notice the stillness of her chest.

"Notice the blue discoloration of her skin." Don followed her finger as it highlighted the areas on the girl's body. "She died from asphyxiation. The ligature markings around her neck indicate she was strangled, more than likely from some type of cloth. An analysis of her clothes may find any strands of the murder weapon that were left behind."

Sleeping Beauty continued to lie there, completely unaware of the two people discussing her death above her. She was a pretty girl with dark brown hair and lightly freckled skin. Dressed like any other college age kid with jeans and an in-style as of now trim jacket buttoned up all the way, she could just as easily be pictured walking along Wilshire instead of lying in the dirt here. Don noted the thick soled boots on her feet. Sensible hiking boots meant she was experienced in the outdoors.

His eyes were drawn back to Claudia as the medical examiner lifted a hand, spreading her fingers to show him the ends. "I found some skin underneath her nails. Poor baby tried to fight back. It just wasn't enough. I'll let you know what I find after I get her on the table."

"Thanks, Claudia," he said, giving her a small smile as she stood and moved towards the tech waiting with the body bag. Don turned away and spotted Colby with another one of their people. "What do you got there?"

Colby lifted up a black strap, the laptop case attached to it coming into view. "Found it tossed over the side a few yards down, landed in a bush. It's pretty banged up, but maybe the computer guys can find something still on it."

"That or Charlie might be able to help us out with that," Don agreed.

"Agent Eppes!"

Both he and Colby turned at the sound of someone hollering his name. Claudia and the body bag guy were gesturing at him. The two of them retraced his steps back to the girl's body. "You got something else?"

Claudia shook her head. "I didn't notice this before until we got ready to move her. Her jacket got caught on something and when I lifted it up, well, this is what I found. Thought you might like to take a look."

His right hand reached up to remove his sunglasses, sliding them quickly to rest on the top of his head. Underneath the jacket, she wore a plain tee shirt. There was nothing extraordinary about that. It was what had been painted onto her shirt that was extraordinary:

"Are those symbols? And were they…painted on?" Colby squinted to his right.

"It is paint. They're symbols of the Chumash Native Americans. The colors and patterns regularly appear in much of their early art and culture." Claudia's hand held the jacket open, giving them all a view of the artwork.

Reds and blacks swirled together over the green cotton. Don could make out something that looked like a sun. Over her right rib cage appeared to be some sort of lizard creature. The letter V of the alphabet and dots finished out the rest.

"What do they mean?" Don met Claudia's gaze.

The medical examiner's head shook left and right. "I can't tell you that, sorry. Like I said, I'll let you know what I find as fast as possible."

Don repeated his thanks. He didn't know too much about the Chumash either or what their symbols meant. All he knew was that the reservation ran a casino out in Santa Ynez and that was about it. As another strong gust of wind kicked up, Don and Colby retreated back down to the relatively sheltered area of the trail they had come up on.

"Well, those symbols certainly add another layer to the puzzle," Colby remarked as they both watched Claudia move the girl into the black bag.

Don gave a little hum. "We're going to need to get statements from the hikers that found her as well as any records the rangers have on who's been up here lately. It's an advanced trail, so not too many people are going to attempt to make it up here unless they can actually make it."

"Right. I'll head back down and see if the local police got anything from the hikers. Talk to that other ranger who stayed behind at the beginning." Colby paused for a moment and then went on to say, "Looks like that break from the Fisher case didn't last too long. We have a lot of answers to find with this one."

He blinked as the body tech came by, holding onto one side of her body while the person after carried the other end. Inside that black plastic was a young woman and their new case. With a twinge of sadness at the subsequent ending of that young life, Don looked at Colby as they too began their trek back down.

"Starting with finding out exactly who she is."