Disclaimer:Numb3rs isn't mine, and I doubt I'm ever going to get it as a present.
Author's Note:Well, 'tis the season to be mental, after all. Exams are over, so the cuckoo muse is back in full swing.
This is my Christmas/Eid/Hanukkah/Whatever-rocks-your-boat present to the SDKG-ers. Enjoy :-)
All In The Name Of…
It was early in the morning at the FBI office and half of Don Eppes' team was yet to arrive. Deciding that no, it wasn't too early for yet another cup of coffee, Don made his way to the break-room to start a new pot. By the time he was walking back towards the bull-pen, coffee in hand and swizzle stick in mouth, Megan had arrived, and Don caught sight of her as she accepted a bundle of mail from the office's mail guy, Steve, as he went about his rounds.
"'Morning," greeted Don, as he walked past his second-in-command. "Coffee?" he offered, motioning to his own cup.
Megan stopped sifting through the formidable collection of post long enough to reach over to her desk and show Don the latte-to-go she was drinking; the same latte that had once come in handy during the investigation of a sabotaged safety drill in the LA transport system. Or, as Charlie had pointed out, some what exasperatedly, the same lattes half his students would suck down during each class. Lacking sleep was lacking sleep, whether it was due to all nighters to cram for am exam, or to catch criminals.
"'Morning," reciprocated Megan, finally lifting her head from the mail she had been organizing in her lap. "This bunch is yours…," she said, handing over the largest portion of the envelopes, including one larger than usual, brown paper envelope which stood out from the rest. "David and Colby not in yet?" she asked, placing the two missing member's mail on their respective desks and getting started in opening her own.
"They'll be here soon enough, complaining about traffic," replied Don as he took a sip of his coffee and picked up the envelope at the top most of his pile.
"Ahhh, traffic. You know, there are days when I think it would be a good idea just to have a room in this building. Who needs the excess space of a whole apartment? Just a bed, no hassle. And take the elevator to work every morning," mused Megan dreamily as she viciously slit open a particularly thick letter.
"If I do that, my father might have me carted off to a mental institution. There's dedication, and then there's too much dedication," replied Don somewhat distractedly, just one envelope away from the big, brown one.
"Amen to that," muttered Megan, shoving her opened mail to one side and taking a sip of her latte, swinging her around to face her boss and watch him get done with the biggest pile. "Whatcha got there?" she asked, nodding her head towards the larger than usual piece of mail.
Don shrugged. "No return address, no official stamps from any agencies. It passed security so it can't be that bad." With his second-in-command watching, Don slit the envelope open and pulled out a thin, cardboard backed collection of paper. From where Megan sat, she could only see the black back and the ring of spirals at the top. However, there was no missing her boss and friend's reaction:
"You have got to be kidding me," exclaimed Don. Curious, but not too worried since Don's tone hadn't contained that extra something which would have had Megan's assess-and-solve reflex perking up, the blonde agent got up and moved behind her friend to peer over his shoulder.
"What's up?" she asked.
"I think all my birthdays have come early, if this is what I think it is," replied Don, still taking in the object in his hands, somewhat transfixed.
Squinting, Megan read what was on the front cover:
"C3, CalSci's Charity Committee Naked Calendar 2008: Twelve months of CalSci's finest disrobed."
"Uh oh," murmured Megan, although she couldn't help the quirk of her lips as the realization of just what the calendar might hold ran through her mind.
"'Uh oh' is right." Don plucked the small post-it note attached to the lower right corner of the calendar and read aloud: "'February favours the brave."
The two team-mates exchanged glances, and silently, Don replaced the calendar in the envelope and picked up his coffee cup. Megan went to her desk to grab her latte and then followed her team lead into the unoccupied war room, and shut the door behind her. By then, Don had placed the calendar in the centre of one of the tables, and Megan moved to join him in standing over it, looking down at the object which ignited such interest.
"Larry mention anything like this to you?" Don asked.
"Nope. Charlie?"
"Not one word."
"Well, you've gotta hand it to them; they know how to keep it under wraps," acknowledged Megan.
"I think it was more a case of collective self-preservation than any sinister skill," grinned Don. "So… should we proceed?" he asked, a touch of uncertainty to his tone.
"Well… it is for charity, you know," reasoned Megan.
"And I'm already in therapy. What's a little more trauma to add to the list?" wondered Don.
As one, they reached out: Megan taking hold of the bottom left hand corner of the calendar, and Don the bottom right. And together… they flipped.
-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-xx-
The phone had barely begun to vibrate when Dr. Charles Eppes quickly grabbed it and flipped it open:
"Hello?" Charlie said as he answered the phone.
"Wow, that was quick, buddy," said his brother's amused voice from the other end of the line.
"Don. What's up?" breathed the math professor.
"Just wanted to give you a heads up; I'll be at CalSci in about twenty minutes. Be ready."
"Alright. Thanks," replied Charlie. "See you in twenty." He was just about to flip his phone shut when he remembered something and quickly spoke into the phone, hoping his brother hadn't hung up: "Oh, and Don, no need to come all the way to my office. I'll meet you in the parking lot."
"It's ok, Chuck, I don't mind coming in. No point for you to freeze outside," Don offered. This should have been the first thing to tip Charlie off, but he remained oblivious.
"No, no, trust me, it's alright. I'll see you outside in twenty," Charlie persisted. He was just about to hang up when he heard Don's muttered comment reach his ear:
"You bet your shiny little behind I'll see you in twenty." The strangeness of this had Charlie turning his head to stare at his phone. Realizing that his brother had hung up, he did the same.
His brow creased in puzzlement as he thought again about his brother's murmured words, his eyes fell on what took centre-stage on his desk: multiple copies of the calendar. He still couldn't believe he'd agreed to it. A few months ago at the start of the semester, the heads of CalSci's active charity student group had gone around asking their professors to "bare all", all in the name of charity. Their argument was: the students, who would be their target market, saw more than their fair share of their peer's naked bodies (they were healthy, young, hormonal human beings after all). The prospect of seeing their respected professors in the buff, however, would be another matter entirely. And, would you, Professor, choose your pride over helping starving, homeless children?
Against this onslaught, Charlie was defenceless. He'd agreed, and now, here it was: the fruits of his labour (posing in the nude took more work than people gave it credit for). Rumours were already circulating that they'd been a mad rush from the students to buy the calendars before they headed their separate ways for this winter break, and that the committee had already placed in additional orders at the printers for continual sales in January, when everyone came back.
Of course, the appeal wasn't just in seeing their stiff, all-powerful, all-knowing professors in the flesh. Many a male student had already decided that there was no month like May (for all that it was the exam month), for those four weeks were graced with the triple threat of Professors Ramanujan, Osaki and Trowbridge using very little to cover their assets. And many of the female faculty already had their pick: July was the month for Physics and Engineering, with Professors Fleinhardt and Waldie looking slight shell-shocked. But who knew suede could hide such physique?
However, the winner of most female hearts, hands down, would have to be Professor February himself, Dr. Charles Eppes.
Shaking his head, Charlie placed one of the calendars in his bag to take home secretly and hide in his room. The rest went into the bottom drawer of his desk. Now, the only matter remained of keeping this a secret from Don, and Megan by association. Charlie knew he could reasonably rely on his father's silence; his allegiance had already been bought and (dearly) paid for. However, Charlie wasn't so naïve as to assume the patriarch wouldn't try to find a loophole to exploit in their agreement, and resort to underhanded tricks in the meantime.
Realizing that Don would almost be at CalSci by now, Charlie picked up his bag, turned off the lights in his office and shut and locked the door behind him. It wouldn't do to have the whole deception blown by Don walking onto campus only to find flyers advertising the sale of calendars scattered all over the place, or to have his curiosity aroused by multiple groups of students either chuckling at, or acting traumatized by, the pictures in the calendar.
Charlie's timing proved to be fortuitous for Don had barely brought the SUV to a complete stop when Charlie opened the door and sat, with a breathless "Let's go," as a greeting.
Don eyed his little brother over his sunglasses in concern as he threw the car into gear and his foot pressed on the accelerator. "Everything alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," assured Charlie.
"Then what's with the hurry? Running from somebody? A student wondering why they got a B, and not an A?" Don prodded, half-seriously.
Charlie shrugged. "No hurry. Just happy school's out for a few weeks. Want to get home and relax. Enjoy the holidays."
"You? Relax?" Don queried in disbelief but surrendered at Charlie's mock glare. "Alright, alright, relax it is."
"Exactly," concurred Charlie. "Oh, and thanks for the ride. The mechanic said my car should be fixed by tomorrow."
"Anytime, bro." As the brothers descended into a comfortable silence, Don decided to launch his interrogation:
"So…," he began.
"So?" repeated Charlie, waiting patiently for his brother to continue.
"How're things in school?" Don asked, perfect innocence colouring his words and tone.
"Umm… they're good. Any specific reason why you're asking?" Charlie queried, a bit puzzled.
"No, no reason. Just wondering, that's all," replied Don.
"Alright… Things are fine. By the time my students get back, their heads would have emptied a little bit for me to bombard them with more laws and theories."
"That's good," commented Don. "So… the school. Does it have a charity organization or something?"
Charlie felt the first prickling of suspicion and dread, but decided to play it dumb and innocent for the time being. "Actually, yes, we do. C3. CalSci Charity Committee, run by the students. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you know, with the holiday season and all, everyone suddenly gets the urge to help out. Now would be a good time for all the charities to take advantage." Who was Charlie kidding? Don was the epitome of deceptive innocence. At least, he hoped so. He pressed on: "They do anything special this year, your students?"
"Oh, you know the usual; Fundraisers, and all." Charlie was desperately trying to think of a suitable way to change the subject when Don spoke again:
"Hey, Charlie?"
"Yeah, Don?"
"You know what else is really popular this season, what with winter in full swing and all?"
"What's that, Don?" Charlie vaguely wondered if this was how criminals felt right before juries announced a verdict which they could just tell was going to send them off to jail for a long, long time.
"Tans. From tanning salons. And you know when it's a really good time to get a tan?" Don was enjoying this way more than he thought he should.
"When's that, bro?" Charlie rubbed a fist in his eye, waiting for the guillotine to fall.
"February."
"Alright, that's it." Charlie could bear (pardon the pun) it no more. "Who told you? Was it Dad? It was Dad, wasn't it?"
"Told me what, Charlie?" Don asked innocently, glancing at his brother but his aviator sunglasses effectively hiding his dancing eyes. "Is there something you need to tell me but neglected to mention? I'm all ears right now."
"Who told you I posed naked for a calendar shoot? In fact, who sent it you? I mean, it wouldn't be enough just to tell you, they probably sent multiple copies, didn't they?" Retribution would be dear. Oh, he could already come up with absolutely gratifying methods of obtaining revenge.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, buddy. All I did was say maybe getting a fake tan would be a good idea…," Don explained.
"Alright, thank you. Can we move on, now? Please?" Charlie asked desperately, but knew from experience it would be fruitless.
Don continued as though he hadn't been interrupted: "… I mean, all that exposed white flesh. I'm just saying; it could damage someone's eyes if they're not careful." Man, Don loved charity.
"Alright, alright, shut up already. One more word, and I'm taking a cab home," Charlie threatened, turning to look out of the side window so he wouldn't have to see his brother's broad grin.
"Okay, okay, keep your shirt on, I'll stop."
"Thank you," said Charlie graciously, glad when silence prevailed once more. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd just donated a bucket load of money to get out of the calendar…
Don, with difficulty, eventually got his chuckles under control, and decided to have mercy on his little brother. Truth be told, he was kinda proud of the guy. For someone who'd always been a bit socially awkward, this would have been a big step for Charlie. But, his brother's heart of gold had eventually prevailed and what kind of big brother wouldn't be proud of that?
"Hey, Charlie?" Don just remembered he had one, last question to ask.
"Yeah, Don?"
"Will you autography my calendar for me?" Yeah… mercy was over-rated.
Khatum (The End)
Happy holidays, everyone. Enjoy, have fun, relax, and above all, don't forget to buy new calendars for next year. :-) And hopefully, in a few days, I'll have something for those of the Don persuasion.