Disclaimer:
The characters belong to CBS. I own nothing. I just like to play along with the characters for the delight of the readers.
Synopsis:
A serial killer threatens Don but it's only the tip of the iceberg. Something terrible happens. Don's life and the life of his loved ones will change dramatically.
Categorie:
Angst/Dark:
Rated:
MA
NUMB3RS
Condemned – Episode 1
Prologue
He sat crouched in a corner, surrounded by complete darkness. How long had he been here? He could not tell. Had it been days, weeks? Drip, drip, drip, if they did not manage to drive him insane then it would be that noise that undoubtedly would. He was freezing, it was damp, cold and it stank. Apart from jeans and a t-shirt, he wore nothing more on his mistreated body. They had smashed him brutally while laughing hysterically. The flap at the door opened, somebody shoved through a tray and switched on the light: a bare bulb. He wasn't hungry but he had to drink something. A cup of water stood on the tray. At least they did not intend to let him die of thirst. Not yet. When he straightened up slowly he felt an agonizing pain in his lungs, which forced him into the knees once more. It seemed to last forever before he had accomplished his goal of taking a long drink. He couldn't tell what was on the plate. He put the tray aside, disgusted. The door suddenly opened and a giant man entered. His face was covered with a ski mask and he was dressed in black battledress, "I assume our kitchen does not fit your high standards", he grumbled. "It's okay." Then he kicked roughly at him, removed the tray and switched off the light. The door fell crashing back against the lock. Charlie lay on his back and stared into the darkness. The kick to his side had hurt. He hardly dared to breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something beautiful: Amita with her big dark eyes, her soft lips. It almost tore his heart apart. Would he ever see her again? With all his might he fought the ascending despair, the lump in his throat seemed to take his breath away and tears welled up in his eyes. "Don't give up Charlie", he encouraged himself, "Don will find you for sure."
His brother had always taken care of him even though they often squabbled. And he, Charlie, would not easily give in. No way. He would resist as long as he could. They were shaking the door again and he gave a start. Somebody put something through the slit of the door. He then heard a roaring. He was suddenly hit by a hard, icy-cold jet of water. It was useless for him to squeeze against the wall. After a couple of minutes the torture came to an end. A voice, sounding muffled by the door, sneered, "Good night Eppes". He did not know whether he would freeze to death there and then or whether the hard jet had peeled the skin off his bones. His teeth chattered and he shivered continually. How long would he be able to bear this? Somewhere along the line he closed his eyes exhausted and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 1Two weeks earlier
The students and professors of the CalSci had taken part in a nationwide competition in the subjects mathematics, astrophysics and quantum mechanics and actually ranked first. This was of course worthy of a gigantic party to celebrate and therefore the ballroom of the university was adapted accordingly. Charlie came to the conclusion he must have had a screw loose but it was already too late. He stood on a ladder which for him was a dizzy height and tried to place garlands and balloons under Amitas instructions specifically. He couldn't think what had come over him when she paid him a visit this morning and asked him with her big eyes like a deer and her gentle voice to support her energetically. There was something about Amita that prevented him from saying "no", in marked contrast to the other way round. It didn't work well, basically not at all. He would still have to work on it. She still opposed his desire for her to move in with him. He had tried all sorts of things, used all powers of persuasions, however: no chance.
Amita yelled, "you have done quite a good job, Charlie!" and gave him two thumbs up.
"You have done quite a good job, Charlie!" he mimicked her and pulled a grimace.
"I would still put the blue balloon a little more to the left. To the left Charlie, that's the wrong side."
There is nothing to it, standing and talking from below. Above, the air was much thinner and his legs felt as if they were made of rubber. He wasn't aspired to higher things. He was more one of those down-to-earth fellows. The roller skate group had just rehearsed its show next to him. The boys and girls were brilliant. And the music that was coming out of the speakers put everyone in a good mood, too.
They drove in formation and made jumps etc. Amita fooled around with the students who filled helium into the balloons on the ground while Charlie felt like doing an egg dance.
"Great that you're having fun down there," Charlie snapped.
Amita took a deep breath from the balloon and answered with a Mickey Mouse voice, "you had the choice, between blowing them up and hang up."
Charlie had trouble to remain serious, "I thought I had to blow them up by myself, you had not mentioned a word about the thing there."
One of the students was too overenthusiastic. There was a deafening bang in the hall. After that in turn a couple of people from the roller skate group were frightened and came off the concept.
"Everything is under control?" Larry called to make himself perceivable.
"Of course," Amita nodded and held out a balloon to him, "wanna try?"
Larry took a look at it as if he had any extraterrestrial species in front of him.
"I do not know I think I am already too old for something like that."
Everyone suddenly called chorus: "Larry, Larry, Larry!" He could shirk now by no means.
The roller skating group simply did not keep the situation under control any longer. And so it happened that one of the girls was heading directly for the ladder on which Charlie was standing. She was so panic-stricken that she completely forgot to brake. Charlie who had taken meticulousness care to get a garland around an ugly pipe didn't realize anything.
First, he didn't know what happened to him when the ladder started staggering dubiously. Charlie felt of all things downwards for the song "Here I go again on my own" from Whitesnake. With a loud yell he jumped off the ladder before this one touched the floor. Instinctively he rolled up and landed perfectly. People expressed their recognition with frenetic applause and howling loudly. Amita and Larry ran to him.
"Everything ok?" the two asked unison in Mickey Mouse sound.
Charlie could not help an outburst of laughter.
Admission was shortly before eight p.m. People pushed at the entrances, everybody wanted to be the first one inside. Within minutes the hall had filled with cheerful people. The DJ did the rest with sweeping songs. The bass boomed from the big loudspeakers. Some got on the dance floor at once, others still had to give themselves Dutch courage. One of them was Larry.
"That is already your third punch now," Charlie exhorted him, "I think you should meet Megan sober."
Larry guilty put the cup back, "I was not even so nervous before my flight to space."
"Pardon me, why is he nervous?" Don who had just arrived asked.
"What do you think?" Charlie meant and raised significantly the eyebrows.
"Um, well I see," Don meant and helped himself to some punch.
"Megan has bought a new dress for herself for tonight. Do you think my outfit can compete with hers?"
Charlie and Don sized him up, then looked at each other and shook their heads, "forget it."
Larry became paler, "I'm in urgent need of a punch."
When Amita entered the hall she seemed to attract whole attention. She wore a Bordeaux red cocktail dress made of satin which clanged to her figure perfectly. Charlie's jaw dropped literally.
"You, you, look ... er ... actually ... simply fantastic ", he stammered.
Don winked at her appreciating. Larry nodded nervously and craned his neck when a new bulk of people came in. One single look sufficed to recognize Megan in the crowd. She had pinned her hair up and a couple of single curls swirled about her face. She took second place only to Amita. She wore a deep blue case dress and could have easily given Audrey Hepburn competition without problems in "Breakfast at Tiffany's".
"If I were AD, this would be your new working dress as of now", Don smirked and hugged her.
"Hands off the Lady, she belongs to me," Larry said determinedly.
"Okay," Megan was amused.
Charlie leant over to her, "this, for certain comes from the punch."
Wanting Megan alone for himself, Larry linked arms with her and moved her away from the others.
"I honestly do not know him at all," Don smirked.
"Due to your profession you should actually know, what influence alcohol has on the character of some people," Charlie teased him.
"I know what it does to you," Don gave back quick-wittedly, "could tell some rather interesting stories to Amita..."
"I prefer to tell her these things myself dear bro."
Then he turned to Amita, "I am sorry I could not welcome you properly."
"You mean something like one hand here and the other one …" she breathed, put the arms around his neck.
"Yes, exactly, I..."
"Shut up Charlie," she muttered.
Charlie thought he may lose the ground underneath his feet when their lips met. At first they kissed in a behaved manor but when Charlie's ears started to glow and he felt the reaction of her body by the extremely thin satin, he would have liked nothing more than to disappear with her into the next laboratory.
Don turned away, a little embarrassed. He was on a solo path at the moment, like most of the time. Here would surrender to nothing well almost nothing, could it be that he seemed out-of-place to himself a little being just shy of his mid forties?
On the other hand what would say Larry then? Didn't matter, he had Megan. A quiet suspicion crept into his thoughts, was he on the edge of the famous midlife crisis, in which men began to do strange things? For instance buying big expensive cars or learning how to play golf? Well, he was a good golfer by the way. What did they say about a man who wasn't able to satisfy the needs of his wife, you'll find him at the golf court? He frowned.
Perhaps he should talk with his dad about it. At his age he had relived one youth after the other. Milly was obviously good for him. They had returned home from their Venice journey only yesterday. Good ole Alan had her, as former city planner, sure described the advantages of the lagoon town and the style required for it detailed. Perhaps at a trip in a gondola and following in the hotel... Don told himself to come to his senses, now it was getting kinky.
Both joined them almost as if on key.
"Hello Boys, hello Amita, pleased to meet you," Alan greeted friendly.
Milly grinned from ear to ear and looked just ... satisfied.
"Finally stop the bullshit, Don," he thought in quiet.
"Hi Dad, hi Milly, you look sat ... I mean great."
Don looked into his cup, "what devilishly ingredients did you pour into this punch?"
Amita laughed, "student's secret."
She then looked at Charlie, "wanna dance?"
The DJ was swimming on an eighties wave. There was this certain look again which turned him into a weak-willed something.
"It's obvious who wears the pants in their relationship," Milly said in amusement and looked after them.
"And what about you?" Don queried.
His father got big eyes, "us? We enjoy equal rights, don't we?"
Milly didn't show any reaction.
"Don excuse us please, Milly is starving and she can get extremely intolerable when hungry," Alan stated.
The remark earned him a poke in the side.
"So much to the equal rights topic", Don thought and mingled with the crowd. tbc
