Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or any of the show's original characters.

A/N: I am a little nervous about posting this story. I started watching Numb3rs on Netflix, and absolutely love the show. I've read quite a bit of Numb3rs fanfiction, and thought I'd like to contribute. I'd love to know your thoughts. I'm sorry if Charlie is a bit OOC...I'm still trying to figure him out :]

"Professor Eppes."

Charlie looked up from the stack of papers he was grading. "Oh, hello. May I help you?"

"I hope so." The young woman in the doorway adjusted her book bag strap on her shoulder, tossing her straight blond hair out of the way. Her blue eyes were bright and smiling. "Do you mind if I shut the door? It's just..."

"Oh, no, not at all," Charlie said, "go ahead."

"Thanks." Stepping into the office, the woman shut the door.

"What can I help you with, Miss-" Charlie paused meaningfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm such a blond, aren't I? My name's Chris, Chris Lawson." Chris shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "You're going to think I'm crazy when you find out what I'm asking you to help me with." She laughed nervously.

Charlie grinned. "Don't worry, Miss Lawson. I'm more than happy to help."

"Well, then, okay." Chris set her bag on an uncluttered chair. She reached in, all the while smiling sweetly at Charlie. "Would you mind helping me with a little..." she pulled out a gun "...revenge?"

"When you said you needed help with a problem," Charlie said, "revenge never crossed my mind."

"Yeah, I thought that would be the case." Chris smiled, the gun still aimed carelessly at Charlie. She laughed. "Actually, I was really hoping that you wouldn't think that."

"Do you mind if I ask why you're pointing a gun at me?" Charlie was trying to sound nonchalant and cool headed, but he couldn't control the sweat that was starting to bead on his brow or the chills that burned his skin.

"I already told you, professor: revenge. I need your help." Chris sighed and shoved her book bag off the chair. It fell to the floor with a sharp thud, not dissimilar to a muffled gunshot, in Charlie's opinion.

That's why he startled.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him sympathetically as she sank into the now empty chair. "Sorry. I should've thought that through. Of course you're jumpy, huh?"

"Well," Charlie said, his voice shaking slightly, "it isn't everyday you're held at gunpoint." He laughed nervously.

"I made a schedule," Chris said. She took a paper out of her pocket and held it out to Charlie. "Would you like to read it?"

"Uhm, sure." Charlie stood up and leaned over his desk, taking the piece of notebook paper she offered to him. He sank back into his seat, his eyes never leaving the gun.

"Go, ahead," Chris said, "read it."

Charlie swallowed and unfolded the paper. It took a moment for him to adjust to the scrawly handwriting, but in a way, he wished he hadn't.

Hostage Schedule:

1:00 pm ask for professor's help
1:02 pm pull gun and hold it on him
1:05 pm have professor call his brother
1:09 pm have him hang up the phone
1:10-1:25 pm wait for brother to arrive
1:26-2:59 pm let brother beg for professor's life
3:00 pm shoot professor

Charlie choked on his hard swallow, and started coughing as he read the last was not good. This was horrible. This was deadly! He dropped the list, and it fluttered lightly to his desk, alighting soundlessly. That just made it worse. It made the list seem harmless when it really stated how the last two hours of his life was going to be played.

"It's 1:05, Professor," Chris said, glancing at her watch, "you may call your brother."

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Don will save you. Stay calm...

Charlie picked up the phone. "What do I say?"

"Anything you want," Chris said with an endearing smile, "you can even say, 'some crazy woman is holding me hostage' if you'd like. I really don't mind." Chris giggled. "I already told you you'd think I'm crazy."

"You've got that right," Charlie breathed as he quickly dialed his brother's cell on his office phone. He really hoped Don would pick up. No. He more than hoped. He desperately needed Don to answer.

"Eppes," a familiar voice snapped.

Don was in the middle of something, Charlie could tell. He needed to be blunt if he wanted his brother's attention fast. "Don, I'm being held hostage by a crazy woman named Chris Lawson."

"What?"

He had Don's full attention now. "You've gotta get down to CalSci and talk to her. We're in my office."

"I'll be right there, Charlie. Don't panic. Whatever you do, keep that woman calm. Don't excite her, okay, buddy? We'll handle this, and you're going to be fine."

"Okay, Don, I will," Charlie said. He paused. "Don, do you know her?"

"The woman?"

"Yeah."

A long pause. "Noo. Wait. Chris Lawson? Yes, I kind of remember her now. She's the one whose boyfriend was..." another long pause, "...shot."

"This is revenge, Don," Charlie whispered.

"I'm on my way, buddy. We'll get you out of this." There was a click, and then a dial tone, but Charlie didn't put the phone down.

"Hang up the phone, Professor," Chris chirped, "we don't want to fall behind schedule."

Mechanically, Charlie did as he was told. He felt numb. He didn't know why, but he felt worse after talking to Don. Not better. That was not how it is supposed to happen. Logically, the knowledge that rescue is on its way should calm the heart rate. Not send it beating out your ribcage. Then, Charlie remembered the schedule: "let brother plead for professor's life".

Chris was not in it for bargaining. She was ready. She had plans. And so far, she was on schedule.

His throat was dry. He felt like he couldn't breath. Just two hours to live. He would never see his family again, his friends. Tears burned the brims of his eyes. Amita. What would happen to her?

Charlie looked at the picture on his desk of the two of them. He sighed shakily.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm...

"Your girlfriend?" Chris's voice floated to him and he looked up.

"Yeah," he said.

Chris smiled sadly. "I guess we'll be the same after this, huh. Our boyfriends shot for justice."

"Revenge isn't justice," Charlie whispered, looking back at the picture.

"Neither is shooting an unarmed man," Chris countered calmly. "Andrew just got caught up in the wrong crowd. He never did anything wrong. He just knew the wrong things. The wrong people." Her eyes glistened. "And for that, he got a bullet embedded in his heart."

Charlie heard the stark pain in her voice. In spite of all she was doing, his heart sank sympathetically. "I'm sorry," Charlie said.

Chris laughed, but it broke. "Yeah, me too."

"I..." Charlie's voice shook and he tried to steady it, "I can't say I know what pain that caused you. I won't even try to understand, because I can't."

Chris nodded.

"But I do know that revenge will not make your pain any less painful," Charlie whispered. "It will only add guilt. And there is nothing more sickening than guilt."

"How would you know?" Chris demanded.

Charlie sighed. He really didn't want to explain it, but then... he did. "Because I've had guilt. Have guilt. It still haunts me, and it's been six years, because there is nothing I can do to take back what I did."

"What did you do?" Chris asked softly, her tone changing to curiosity.

Charlie looked down at his hands. He'd never told anyone what he was about to tell Chris. It always seemed like everyone knew, and telling the story would be like he was trying to excuse himself. But he wasn't.

"My mom had cancer," Charlie said. He paused, looking at Chris. She was staring at him, not cruelly, but with sincere interest. "She fought for months, and I was there with her, because I knew she'd beat it. I knew she'd get better. She had to." Charlie took a deep breath. "But then, the doctors said she only had a few months to live. There was nothing more they could do. She was going to die." It was hard to speak with the lump forming in his throat. He pushed past it. "I never saw her again. I buried myself in an unsolvable math problem for the last three months of her life."

"Oh," Chris breathed. She was looking uneasy, still holding the gun vaguely in Charlie's direction, but it was slack.

Charlie couldn't believe how good it felt to tell someone pointing a gun at him. He cleared his throat and went on.

"I've felt guilty ever since. I hardly slept for months after that, and even now, I wake up sometimes in a cold sweat, regretting what I did. Guilt is a heavy burden because," Charlie paused, "it's your own fault."

The gun quaked in Chris's hand.

"You don't want that, Chris," Charlie said. His voice was shaking. "You are a good person. I can tell. You are not a killer. You don't want to do this, do you? I know you are in pain. I know you only want justice for the man you loved, but revenge is not justice. Revenge will only give you the pain of guilt. Don't have that, Chris. You don't need to have that."

Chris's gun hand dropped to her side. "But Andrew...he didn't deserve to die. He should be alive today. We were going to get married!" She brought the gun up again, holding it more steadily, aiming it right at Charlie's heart. "I could shoot you now, Professor. I could get revenge right now!" Tears glittered down her flushed cheeks.

A strange calm came over Charlie. It was surreal, and he felt like he didn't have control over his tongue as his voice came out of his mouth. "Do I deserve to die, Chris? Do you deserve the guilt of murder you'll have for killing me? For him?"

Chris kept the gun up, gripped in both hands, but it shook. "But Andrew..."

"Does Andrew deserve this?" Charlie asked. "Would he want to know that while he died innocent, the woman he loved turned to murder to avenge him?

The gun clattered to the floor, and the young woman began to sob. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sirens shrieked outside, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Professor?"

Charlie turned around to look at Chris. Colby had her in cuffs and was about to lead her out of the office. "Yeah, Chris?"

"Thank you for helping me." She smiled.

Charlie smiled back. "I'm glad I could help."

Chapter two coming soon...