Kill
Summary: When a case goes wrong, who's left to pick up the pieces? DonMegan
A/N: The idea popped into my head while brainstorming one day, and it won't leave me alone.
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and all related characters and themes are property of CBS. No copyright infringement was intended in the production of this story.
"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." – Mother Teresa
The bullet arched through the air with almost godlike grace. For a moment, she marveled at the beauty of such a small object. Was it even possible that something so beautifully deadly could be created by the hand of man? Surely it had been derived from some greater spirit's dream of death.
And then the beauty was gone with a single impact.
And everything went wrong.
5 hours before...
"We have these guys!" Colby crowed, running into the break room where Megan and Don stood, discussing the case.
Don whipped around, coffee nearly flying out of his hands. "What?" he demanded.
"We have them!" the blond-haired agent repeated excitedly. "We just got a hit on their bank accounts, all at the same ATM, all within a minute of each other."
"When?" Don asked, pushing for the details.
"Just now," Colby said.
Don didn't hesitate with his answer. "Gear up. We're going in."
The first phase of the plan went smooth.
They found the van quickly and waited for signs of life inside. Sure enough, the meth lab was a bustling hub of activity, with Mexican and Spanish men appearing out of and disappearing into it almost every other minute.
While Colby and David took half of the agents around back, Megan sat in a parked van across the street, forced to put up with Don glancing at his watch every few seconds. The rest of their agents were strategically placed around the lab, ready to move on their boss's command.
David's voice crackled through the headset in Megan's ear.
"We're in place Don."
"Good," Don responded. "Wait for my signal." He motioned for Megan to follow, and the two of them climbed out of the van carefully, trying to avoid detection.
Silently, they slipped across the street and up next to the front entrance, Megan on one side, Don on the other.
"Everyone in position?" Don whispered into his mic.
"Ready."
"Okay, on my count. One..."
Megan readied herself, tightening her grip on the gun.
"Two..."
She braced herself and tried to prepare for herself for the mess they would surely find inside, including the bodies of three agents.
"Three!"
Megan kicked the door open and ran inside, yelling along with the chorus of "FBI! Freeze!"
The screaming started shortly after.
One of the men pulled out a gun and started shooting. Some agents ducked for cover, while others started firing back, and more men drew guns and shot.
"Megan, get down!"
She whipped around, spotting Don crouched down behind a large crate, and between them, a man with a gun almost as long as his arm.
Megan dropped to her knees and fired three rounds into the guy's chest. He collapsed, eyes rolling back into his head.
She joined Don moments later. "You okay?" he demanded.
"Yeah," she replied breathlessly. "You?"
"Fine," he responded.
Within minutes, they had the men under control, guns stripped of their owners and being transported back to the office in vans. Colby, David, and several others led the cuffed men to the cars waiting outside to escort them out.
Megan sat down outside the building and ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the sweat. She took a deep sip from a water bottle and told off a young LAPD officer for not watching his prisoner's head as he shoved him into the car. The young man blushed and disappeared around to the other side of the cruiser, stammering apologies.
Suddenly, a shout came from inside.
"Hey!"
Megan stood up and whipped around just as a Hispanic man in his twenties ran out, gun in hand.
She had her gun out in seconds and yelled, "Freeze!", but the man ignored her and kept running.
Shouts of "FBI!" and "LAPD!" and "Freeze!" did nothing to stop him. He kept running, eyes wide.
"Hey!"
Megan's eyes widened when she saw the only man who stood between the Hispanic man and his freedom.
"FBI!" the opposed man shouted. "Get your hands where I can see 'em!"
The Hispanic man didn't hesitate as his gun came up.
Megan's scream erupted before he had even pulled the trigger.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The only sound that filled the empty room was the sound of the heart monitor. Every now and then, a stifled sob or a sniffle came from Megan.
Her fault... Her fault... Her fault...
How could she have let this happen? The man that lay before her on the bed sure as hell wasn't the man she saw every day when she came to work. He sure as hell wasn't the fiery man she knew so well.
He could have died. He could still die.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Another sob rose up in her and she tried to hold it back unsuccessfully as more tears spilled over, pushing through her closed eyelids and falling soundlessly onto the pure white bed sheets. She was such an idiot! She should've shot the guy when she had the chance. But no, she hadn't wanted to hurt him. He couldn't have been much more than 25. Everyone made stupid mistakes when they were that old.
That's no justification! He still could have died! You let it happen!
Yet another sob.
Her fault... Her fault... Her fault...
"Me... Megan?"
Oh my God.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "D- Don?"
He blinked wearily. "What... what happened?"
"You..." Megan hesitated, not sure what to tell him. "You were shot."
Don closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillows. "Damn."
"Yeah," she agreed.
A few moments later, he reopened his eyes. "Charlie..." he started.
"Don't worry," Megan interrupted. "He's on his way here with your dad, who's apparently having a heart attack."
Don smiled. "That doesn't surprise me."
His hand moved to his chest, rubbing the spot where he'd been shot.
"How bad?" he asked absently, his mind seeming to be in another world.
"You lived," she pointed out, trying to avoid the question.
"Good point." He closed his eyes again, face contorting in a grimace.
Now it's your turn, she thought. "How bad?"
"On a scale of 1 to 10?" he asked. "About a six."
"I'll get the nurse to up your morphine," she promised, getting up.
"No." He grabbed her arm. "I'm fine."
She hesitated before sitting down again. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
The silence that followed was so quiet that Megan thought he'd fallen asleep again. The full force of what had happened came crashing down again now that the silence had returned, and a sob forced its way out.
"Hey." She felt a gentle finger on her chin, forcing her head up.
He frowned. "Why are you crying?" he asked, eyebrows knitting.
Another sob forced its way through. "You almost died." Her voice broke on the last word. "You came that close."
"Megan..." He wiped a tear away, sadness in his eyes. "Come on. I'm alive."
"Yeah?" she shot back angrily. "You want me to get Charlie in here so he can calculate the chances you won't make it through something like that again?"
"Aw, Megan," he said, shaking his head. "That's not fair."
"It's not fair that some hard-ass kid gets off clean after shooting you because he had a 'hard life,' either."
Don's eyes flared. "He's getting off clean?"
She bit her lip. "Okay, maybe not, but still."
"Come on, Meg," he said, smiling now. "I'm fine. A little bruised maybe, but-"
"But what?" she snarled. "You almost died! That bullet missed your damn heart by a centimeter! What if that bullet had been just a little to the right? What if the wind kicked up just before the kid shot? Huh? Then what?"
"Well, I don't know Meg," he said. "I wouldn't be around to help."
"Exactly."
She let her head drop, and stared down at her hands. Silence reigned for a few moments. He sighed, and then spoke.
"Megan, look at me." She kept her head down, but he just forced her head up with once hand. "Look at me."
He stared her sternly in the eyes before continuing. "Yes, I could have died. Yes, if any of the conditions had been just a little different, I probably would have." She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. "No. It's my turn to talk. You listen. Yes, I could have died, but I didn't. I'm still alive, still breathing. And come Monday, I'm still gonna be busting your ass when you make a stupid mistake."
"You won't be back by Monday, I'll see to that," she muttered under her breath.
He smiled a bit. "I don't doubt it. And my dad probably won't be on my side on this one. But my point still stands. I'm still alive, Megan. And I have no plans to change that status."
"You don't..."
He rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."
She snorted. "Look who's talking."
He smiled... and changed the subject. Sighing, he settled back against the pillows. "Damn. This morphine's good stuff."
She rolled her eyes. "Great. He's high."
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Just... joyful? Is that the word?"
"How the hell would I know?" she shot back.
He laughed. "I could kiss you right now, you know that?"
"Then why don't you?"
He hesitated, blinking, but when she didn't take the offer back, he leaned forward slowly.
Their lips met, and it was like fireworks exploded in Megan's head. She gasped against his lips, but didn't dare break the contact.
It was him who ended, laying back and rubbing his chest again.
"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.
He smiled serenely. "Fine. But damn..." He whistled. "You..."
"Maybe..." she suggested. "Maybe you should just stay still, and I should do this..."
So she just leaned forward, and they started again.
A/N: The end! That's probably the longest piece I've ever written, so you should all be happy! I've always wanted to write one of those really long oneshots. Well, tell me what you think!
Off to take over the world,
Crazy Girl