Title: As Our World Falls Before Us
Author: IRunIWriteILive
Ships: Slight Charlie/Amita
Summary: This is the worst part of the job, the part, beyond all others, that never gets easier. No matter what.
Authors Note: Hi, how are you today? I hope that you are having a good day. Anyway, this is my first Numb3rs story and although it might be slightly depressing, I hope that you give it a shot. I will take all comment and advice. Oh and this takes place during the beginning of season three. Enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: It is called fanfiction not ownerfiction…
The car was silent.
Not a comfortable amiable silence but a tense, emotional silence. Tears still streamed down Meagan's face, although she did her best to hide them. Sinclair was driving, his face stony and emotionless as he fought back the emotions that were tearing through him. Granger was back at the scene, making sure that everything went according to the rulebook, down to the T.
Then there was Don.
Don was sitting in the passenger seat, gun still clenched tightly in his hand and his face, covered in a thin layer of dust from the firefight, was also covered in tear tracks "Don." Meagan said quietly, placing a hand on her boss' shoulder "Lemme have the gun." Her hand snaked down to his wrist, and although their contact was minimal, she could feel his pulse racing.
However her relinquished the weapon without so much as an argument, he simply let go. Then he cursed.
"Fuck!" he shouted, and the explosion of noise was so loud, so unexpected that both Megan and Sinclair jumped "God damn it." he said quieter, banging his hand down on the glove compartment, which popped open.
This time Sinclair spoke "It wasn't your fault Don." He said, knowing the words would go unnoticed by his friend "It wasn't your fault."
Don shook his head, the tears once again threatening to overflow but he fought them, hard "I should have seen it coming, I should have known." He said, angrily.
"It wasn't your fault." Sinclair said again and this time Don's head whipped over to him and galred daggers at the driver.
"Then why do I feel responsible?" he demanded "Why the fuck do I feel responsible?"
No one had an answer for the grieving man, but none was needed, there was no time, because at that moment Sinclair pulled into the parking lot closest to the math department at CalSci. Don looked up, stopping his tirade of curses and berating himself long enough to realize where they were. Instant his face went somber and he swallowed hard "Don't wait up." He said as he stepped out of the car.
Don Epps walked across the CalsCi campus, a campus he had gotten to know better and better over the years, still dressed in full combat gear. Dark shirt and jeans, black boots with a knife holster attached to his upper thigh, bullet proof vest with FBI stamped in yellow on the front and back, but most noticeable was the holster, the empty holster.
He heard the whispers of wonder and some of fear as he strode towards the office where he hoped he could find the one person he was looking for. However they found him first.
"Don?"
His head whipped up and his hand instinctively reached for the gun, but the holster was still empty "Amita." He said slowly, walking towards her and as he did it, he could see her begin to connect the dots in her mind.
He watched as she began to shake her head, flinch backwards as he reached out to touch her elbow, guide her to the nearby bench "Amita" he repeated looking into her dark eyes, but she stopped him
"It's Charlie." She said, not asking, but stating.
He nodded.
"Is he-" she broke off not able to say the word.
Don inhaled, the image of his brothers body, blood spurting from a gunshot wound to the chest, mouth opening and closing like he was trying to say something but unable to muster the brainpower, then nodded again.
Her face fell, tears sprung to her eyes and he watched her battle them, much like he had. It was silent for a moment as he let her do whatever she needed to do before she spoke again, this time only choking out one word "How?"
Don's mind flashed back, flashed back to the moments just before his brother was killed "Stay. In. The. Car." Don said firmly "The only reason you're here is because you were already with us when we got the call."
Charlie nodded, he needed no encouragement to stay in the car, ever since his near death experience in the FBI offices he had taken a dislike to this particular aspect of Don's work "You got it." He said, nodding emphatically.
Don cast him one last warning glance before he stepped out of the truck, Sinclair, Megan and Granger following suit, guns at the ready. Charlie watched with baited breath, but he wasn't really seeing, not really. He saw Don and the rest of his team walk forward up the driveway but what was actually begin processed was his math, every equation, every formula, every calculation and principle that had gone into the production of this very moment was under scrutiny.
Charlie, knowing somewhere in his subconscious that his calculations were correct, was still going over each and every one, making sure they were flawless because in his adopted line of work, one mistake could get a man killed.
So wrapped up in his calculations as he was, Charlie didn't notice the shadowy figure slowly approaching the truck. It wasn't until the cool barrel of the gun was pressed into his temple through the open window that he realized something was wrong, but by then it was too late. The gun still pressed firmly into his head he was dragged out of the car by a man who both masked and angry "You think your brother can just storm my house and not expect any retaliation?"
Charlie didn't know what to say, what to do, his mind was frozen. This whole hostage thing was Don's life, an aspect Charlie had never dealt with before and had never aspired to deal with either. His eyes flitted back and forth across the driveway, hoping that his brother, Sinclair, Megan, Granger, anyone, would see him in his predicament.
Someone did.
"Put the gun down!"
The masked man laughed "Brother Epps." The man said "How nice to see the two of you in one place." His tone was casual, like they were talking at a bar.
"Put the gun down Markov."
Markov cocked his, as if considering, then shook it "I'm guessing I have about fifteen seconds before one of your agents comes around behind me, so I'd better make this quick."
Don knew the man was about to act the instant that he did, however he was not prepared for what Markov Belatov did. Don watched, in slow motion, as Markov released Charlie, pushing him forward, but at the same time swinging the gun around so that it was pointed at the staggering Epps brother.
Three shots fired simultaneously, Markov, Don and Granger.
There was a moment of clam before Don's eyes began looking for his brother. And a growing horror rose in his stomach as he say Charlie sprawled out on the ground, blood seeping rapidly from a wound on his chest "Charlie!" Don shouted, running over to his brother "Charlie talk to me buddy!"
Placing a hand on Charlie's back, Don flipped him over gently and looked into his brothers eyes. He saw the confusion, pain and mist of death in them. He saw Charlie open and close his mouth like he was trying to say something but looking more like a fish. He saw Charlie's fingers move, twitching as the life left his body "Charlie, come on, Charlie stay with me!" Don pleaded.
"So-sorry" Charlie gasped, blood dribbling down the corner of his mouth.
"No" Don shook his head "No, it wasn't your fault, it was mine."
"Love-love you and-and, dad." Charlie stuttered, the words barely above a whispers as the life faded from him.
"I-I love you to Chuck." Don said and the faint ghost of a smile crossed Charlie's pale features.
The last threads of life were fighting to stay within Charlie as he spoke the last words that would ever leave his lips, or the beginnings of a word "A-Amita…"
"Don."
The agent jumped, shaken out of the flashback "He-he was shot." Don said "By the serial killer from our current case."
Amita didn't move, didn't say a word as she tried to process what Don was telling her "Did he say anything?" she asked, not exactly sure what she was hoping for.
Charlie and herself had always been close, despite their on and off dating habits. They could always turn to each other guidance of support if a problem arose, mathematical or otherwise. Over the past months they had grown closer and their feelings for each other had grown more intense and more powerful as time progressed.
"Your name." Don said, whispering "Your name was the last thing he ever said."
Amita nodded and suddenly, the full impact of what had happened overwhelmed her, the tears began flowing down her face and even as she fought to control them she felt Don wrap on arm around her and pull her into his chest. It wasn't an over intimate gesture as some might suppose but simply one of comfort as Don too began to cry, his brother was gone.
All that left was the memories.
Thoughts?
Comments?
Concerns?
I hope this hasn't made you to sad and I also apologize for not forewarning you that this was a death-fic, I simply was trying to avoid people judging a book by its cover.
Any and all reviews are welcome.
Thanks,
IRunIWriteILive