Hello~ I know, I haven't written in ages. But the other week I wrote this…thing, and I forgot to post it up here.
Anyways, time for the disclaimer!
I do not, I repeat, do NOT own Numb3rs, its characters, its plotlines, or anything of the sort. If you recognize anything, then it obviously isn't mine. In fact, I don't even own the words- the words belong to Daniel Webster, lucky man. I own nothing really, I just wrote.
~xxx~
It's been years since the brothers have talked. Don still workied with the FBI and Charlie still helps with cases, but they've done everything in their power to avoid eachother at all costs. After a while Charlie tried to break through to him, but done wouldn't allow it; after that one attempt Charlie never tried again. Years have passed and now it's after their father's funeral. When he had died Don and Charlie was in the same room for the first time since thier last fight on opposite sides of their father's bed. They wouldn't even speak to each other then and the last word that he said before his heart stopped beating was "Speak"
After the funeral Don managed to sneak away from the crowd and walk to his father's grave. He knelt before it and tried to pray until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Don." His brother's voice cracked under pressure. He winced as the harsh night wind blew against them. All of the sudden Don jumped up and held Charlie by his collar. Charlie's eyes widened as the anger in the elder's eyes grew and his hold on Charlie's collar tightened.
"Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Dad. Where- Where is he?" Confusion fell over Charlie; there was no drinking and he had no idea what his brother was talking about.
"What?"
"Our father, Charlie." Don's voice grew with anger. "You don't believe in God, so where do you suppose our father is?" He shook him "Is he in Heaven? Do you think he's in Heaven?"
"Don- you know how I feel."
"SO YOU THINK HE'S IN HELL?" Don was screaming now. Charlie did not know what to say, he shook his head. "So if he's not heaven," Don shook him hard,"And if he's not in hell, where is he, Charlie?" Charlie did not respond; he stared at Don with wide eyes. Don's hold tightened, lifting his brother higher. "YOU'RE THE GENIUS, CHARLIE. WHERE IS HE?"
"I-I don't know!" He could barely let out that whisper and tears welled up in his eyes. "I don't know, okay?" Don groaned in frustration and threw him on the ground. Charlie was facing the grave stone, embedding the writing in his mind.
"He's right there, Don." The younger boy pointed at the grave. "Our father is right...there." Charlie picked himself up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and straightening his tie and collar. He took one last look at the grave, wiped his tears, and turned to walk back to where the mourners were wating for him, leaving his weeping brother beside the grave. 24
~xxx~
I actually hated writing this- I don't like that they aren't friendly, but obviously it wouldn't have worked otherwise.
And I absolutely hate how short everything I write is. Ugh. Oh well.
Comments are greatly appreciated.
