Disclaimer: Numb3rs and all things affliated with Numb3rs does not and never will belong to me. The line in italics at the beginning of the story doesn't really belong to me either. It is paraphrased from Forest Gump.
All that said... enjoy! And review! Reviews are of the good.
If I'd Known
If I'd known it would be the last time we would talk,
I'd have thought of something better to say…
The sky was overcast.
It would rain soon.
The rain was probably a good thing.
Cleansing.
Still though, Special Agent Don Eppes of the FBI couldn't help but wish it were clear.
It would be nice to see the endless blue of the California sky… the sun shining… the clouds white and fluffy…
A bullet pinged off the dumpster he was using for cover and Don winced, his thoughts forcefully jerking back to the present.
He really needed to concentrate.
There were still people that needed him.
His team. He could hear them yelling.
They were calling for him. Trying to get him to respond.
They needed to know he was okay.
The ground under him felt sticky. Had it been sticky when he had sat down? And, as long as he was on that train of thought… he didn't remember sitting down… certainly didn't remember putting his gun down on the ground beside him.
Why would he have let go of his gun?
Yelling. Colby and Nikki. Calling out for him.
Really should answer.
It was getting hard to concentrate though. He wasn't sure but he had the feeling that his thoughts weren't flowing the way they should.
So hard to tell. So hard to think and oh, God, it hurt.
He needed to pick up his gun. He needed to let his team know he was okay, that he was still with them.
That they weren't alone.
They needed him… right?
Don frowned.
People… that needed him…
There was something… some nagging thought…
Needed… him…
His father…
Charlie.
His fingers felt clumsy and… wet…
Blood.
There was too much blood… too much blood and maybe… maybe not enough time?
He was running out of time and maybe it shouldn't have taken him this long to realize it. Maybe he should have known from the start, from the moment those bullets hit him.
There had been, what… four of them?
Probably not important anymore.
His team was still shouting but… they sounded distant now.
Further away.
There was only one thing left that he could do, only one more role left for him to play.
The most important role, really. The one that had always meant the most to him, always come the most naturally. Even more naturally then FBI agent.
Charlie.
Blood slick fingers fumbled for his phone.
He knew the number. Didn't have to look to dial it.
Two rings and Charlie's voice was in his ear.
"Don, hey. I'm actually about to give a lecture, can I call you back in an hour or so?"
Don would have chuckled if it didn't hurt so badly. "'Fraid not, Chuck," he murmured, his eyes closing as he slumped against the dumpster at his back, and there must have been something in his voice, something to give him away because when Charlie responded he didn't sound nearly so distracted anymore.
"Don. Don, are you okay?" Concern in his little brother's voice and right about then someone chose to fire their gun again, two more shots rapidly following. "Are those gun shots?"
Alarm in Charlie's voice now.
"There's no time, Charlie," Don said, groaning as he tried to sit up more, tried to force his mind from drifting.
He needed to do this.
"What do you mean there's no time?"
Charlie's voice, filtering through the phone was frantic and Don grimaced, shaking his head.
He had to get this out. Didn't have time to explain.
"Listen to me, Charlie. I need you to promise me something, okay buddy?"
Maybe it was the urgency in his tone, or maybe it was that he called Charlie buddy, which always seemed to calm him…
"Anything, Don. Anything."
Don closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. This was important. "I need you to be there, Charlie," he whispered. "Okay? Be there. No matter what happens, okay bro? You can't… you can't disappear in your head… You can't… no P vs. P, okay?"
"P vs. NP," Charlie corrected automatically, and his voice was shaking. "Don, I don't understand, why are you telling me this? What do you mean no matter what happens?"
"Dad… Dad needs somebody. He can't… can't lose… both of his sons," Don panted and some part of his brain registered that it was getting harder to talk… getting harder to force the words out… harder to stay…
"Dad's not going to lose either of us, don't talk like that, all right?"
Charlie was crying now and Don sighed, feeling his body starting to relax.
"Wish you were here, Chuck," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at the sky.
The rain was going to start any minute.
The rain was a good thing. Maybe the sky didn't need to be clear, after all.
The rain would be good.
It would feel good.
"Then I'm coming down there," Charlie said desperately. "I'll catch the next flight out, all right? I'll come and I'll be there. Just… just hang on, okay?"
Charlie's voice broke then and Don felt a tear roll down his cheek even as his vision flickered and narrowed, and when did he start looking out of a tunnel?
He didn't want to leave…
At the end of the tunnel the sky was gray and overcast…
Gray…
"I love you, bro. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. Love you too, Don," Charlie choked out.
Don sighed as the first drop of rain touched his face, cool and refreshing.
"Don't get lost, Charlie. Don't... don't get… lost…"
"I won't get lost, Don, just hang on, okay? Don? Don? DON! Don, answer me! DON!"
In a London conference hall Charlie Eppes yelled frantically into his phone, trying desperately, and in vain, to get this brother to answer him again.
He barely noticed as he was led out of the hall, barely noticed the stares he was receiving, all of his attention was on his phone and on the silence at the other end.
The silence where his brother's voice should be.
The silence where he knew in his heart his brother's voice would never be again.
And he kept yelling. Because maybe if he yelled enough Don would answer… Don, who had never left him hanging before… if he just yelled enough… Don would realize how much he needed him… because he always did… he always answered when Charlie needed him… he was always there.
Now wouldn't be any different. He just… he just had to keep calling for him.
"Charlie?"
"Don?" Charlie gasped, for one brief instant frantic hope gripping him.
"Charlie…"
And it was Colby's voice. Colby's voice sounding unsteady and broken.
Colby's voice.
Not Don.
Colby.
"Charlie, I'm sorry…"
And Charlie's world was spinning. Spinning out of control. Out of balance.
Don always answered him.
Always.
And now all Charlie heard was the silence.
Somehow he thought that might be all he ever heard.
Silence.
-End.