Disclaimer: This is a work of my imagination and does not give me any financial gain or benefit. I have not created, and do not own any of these characters - they are the property of Numbers and CBS. (If I did own these characters, I certainly would not have made half the cast be so selfish/egotist. I mean, they would at least have a different annoying trait.) Okay, now that we've got the boring stuff out of the way, let's move on to the (hopefully) less boring stuff.
David looked up to see the FBI-issued vehicle pulling up to the curb. He raised his eyebrows at Megan, surprised to see that his boss had arrived so quickly.
"I thought they were supposed to meet us here, not follow us here," David said to his coworker. Megan shrugged.
"Yeah, well, that's Don for ya. Always trying to get ahead" He shook his head, watching as Don, Colby, and Charlie stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards them.
"Don, you left at least fifteen minutes behind us. How'd you get here so fast?"
His employer rolled his eyes and mumbled something incoherent.
"What was that?" David asked, bemused.
Charlie grinned, a smirk filling his features. "Well, David, I've got one word for you: math," Charlie said, and followed his older brother, who had already started to head inside the building. Colby started laughing.
"Man, that was awesome," he told Charlie, and then turned towards his intrigued co-workers. "So Whiz Kid over here cooked up some formulas, and said that he would be able to get us here at the same time as you guys. Well, Don didn't believe him and the next thing you know, well, here we are, and drinks for the team are on Don this Friday." David and Megan grinned. "That means you too, Charlie," Colby added, nudging the young genius. Charlie grinned, ducking his head.
Megan, Colby and Charlie were upstairs, examining the crime scene. Megan paused in her work to watch Charlie, who was leaning against a column and scratching out some equations into a notebook, muttering to himself. She smirked, knowing how messy handwriting was. She wondered if he had ever written down an equation only to look at it later and find that he couldn't read his scribbles. She felt a sudden pain in her ribs and turned her head to her left to raise an eyebrow at Granger. "Reeves. Come on, you're slacking. I had to call you at least five times," he said. She raised an eyebrow.
"Really?" He just smirked at her. She rolled her eyes, and for a moment he grinned, the smile reaching his eyes before he turned serious again. "Whatever," she said. "What's up?"
"So what do you think of this -" he started. But his voice was drowned out by a loud sound, and then he was lifted off his feet, suspended in the air for a moment before his merciless landing, his body meeting both floor and wall.
Colby Granger woke up to pain. He groaned, then tried to sit up and open his eyes all at once. Well that didn't work out. He let out another groan, squinting against the light that he could've sworn wasn't nearly as bright before, and fighting back a wave of nausea. His hands flew to his head, cradling it as if that would actually do anything to soothe the pain. Okay, Granger, take it easy. Slow down.
He started to ease himself into a sitting position leaning against the wall, but an intense, sharp pain in his left arm stopped him. He squeezed his eyes shut, head bent as a growl of agony came out unbidden. His chest felt tight and he bent over, trying to cradle his hurt arm, his head, and his ribs all at once with his right arm. He could hear a familiar voice, but it sounded distorted somehow, as if he was on the phone and the person on the other line was on speakerphone and had stepped into another room.
He sucked in a short breath but his lungs protested before he could get in enough oxygen. He soon found himself gasping for air, in pain but not having enough breath to waste even on a grunt. "Granger," a loud, concerned voice said. "Come on, man, breathe. You gotta breathe for me."
He tried to shake his head to tell the person that he couldn't breathe, but of course the movement only served to make him more dizzy and disoriented.
"It's okay. It's okay, take a deep breath, as deep as you can manage. You're gonna be okay, you hear me?" Granger knew he knew the speaker; the voice sounded familiar, but he could not place the voice, and that scared him. He knew he had a concussion, but how serious was it? The owner of the voice frantically yet carefully moved him to a better position.
Colby wondered how much longer it would've taken for him to pass out had not the gruff voice come over. In fact, that didn't sound like such a bad idea. Then he wouldn't have to worry about nausea or his left arm, which he was pretty sure was not supposed to be quite so crooked. And he certainly wouldn't have to think so much about what was was such an involuntary action because really, who thinks about every breath they take? His eyelids felt so heavy anyway, so he might as well just let them slide - "Granger!" The voice spoke again, sharply this time, to match the pain that he felt. He stared up to see two identical faces that he knew should've been only one. The person was covered in dust, and was frowning, but he didn't seem upset, just concerned. Colby squinted up at the face, and a weak smile filled his face as he finally matched the name to the face. For a moment, his eyes no longer felt heavy, and he felt safe, knowing that he would be protected now.
"Dad," Colby whispered. He reached out to touch his father with his right arm, but only swatted air.
"Dad? No - uh - Granger." the dad-not-dad figure put a hand on his right shoulder, which fortunately, happened to be his uninjured arm. His tone was softer, yet more commanding. Colby could feel the darkness calling to him, but his dad-not-dad kept talking in what the man probably thought was a quiet voice. "Granger. Look at me. It's me, Don. I'm not your dad, I'm your boss. Don Eppes. You remember your name?" Don looked intently at Colby, his stomach pretending as if he were on a roller coaster ride. This was not good. Colby had thought that he was his father, and his eyes were unfocused and he didn't quite seem to understand that he was actually supposed to respond to Don's question. "Hey. Come on. What's your name?" Colby's eyes finally landed on him, and he almost wished that he hadn't. All he saw when he looked at them was fear, and pain, and confusion. He frowned, about to prompt Colby again when he spoke finally, his voice not much more than a hoarse whisper.
"Granger." The word was groaned more than it was said.
"Yeah, bud. What's your first name?" He watched as Colby frowned, clearly having trouble concentrating. He locked eyes with Don, looking more like a child who had lost their parents than the stoic agent and former soldier that he was.
"I don't know." He grabbed Don's arm with his left arm, his grip just as strong as it would've been if he hadn't been lying there helplessly, struggling to breathe, failing to remember his own name. His head jerked and Don wasn't sure if it was just because Colby's entire body was trembling, or because he was trying communicate something. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slipped into blissful oblivion. Don simultaneously frowned and sighed in relief.
David and Don had been two doors down when they were lifted off their feet. David woke up first, laying on the ground for a moment before slowly sitting up and checking himself out. Surprisingly, he seemed to be ok, other than the headache and general soreness. He stood up, placing his palm on the wall for support when he got lightheaded about halfway up. Closing his eyes momentarily, he rubbed his aching head, resting his weight on his knees. Yep, probably had a concussion. Oh, well - nothing a few days of bedrest wouldn't cure.
He looked around the room, suddenly spotting his boss. "Don," he called. He frowned and stood up to check on to his boss, who had been thrown across the room. When he put his weight on his right leg, though, he realised that his earlier assessments were wrong. He let out a howl of pain, using the wall again to guide him back into a sitting position before pulling his pant leg up to his knee to assess the damage. He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a wave of nausea when he was met by the sight of his own ankle bone. He groaned in irritation. Now that would require much more than just a few days of bedrest - more like surgery and several months of therapy. His plan had been to see if he could find the others and help everyone get out the building. Now it was clear that he would need some rescuing.
He frowned, wondering how he had missed that injury. It seemed to be all he could focus on now. Maybe it was him trying to walk on it, or the fact that he expected it to hurt now that he had discovered it. Either way, it was no longer something that he could ignore. He looked up when Don moaned and started to sit up. David considered trying to drag himself over to Don to check on him, but his ankle was already yelling at him loud enough; he certainly didn't need to provoke it further. Instead, he settled for talking. "Don, can you hear me? You ok, man?" Don looked at him for a moment before slowly nodding.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," Don said. David watched as his superior sat up slowly, clearly checking himself for injuries. He slowly rose to his feet.
"I think I'm good, just a little sore. How 'bout you, Sinclair?" David sighed, shaking his head and then grimacing when that little movement shook his whole body, causing his leg to shift painfully.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere for awhile," he said, motioning to his wounded leg. Don's eyes followed his motion, and he winced in sympathy. He knelt down next to David, inspecting the injury without touching it. He shook his head, placing a hand on David's shoulder.
"Hang in there, buddy," he told him. "I'm gonna see if I can find Charlie or the others. You just sit tight." David rolled his eyes. If he tried to get up and actually walk, he would probably just pass out on the concrete floor. Then again, passing out sounded pretty nice right about now - it wasn't like he or Don had any painkillers readily available.
"Right. Be careful, Don," he said sincerely. Don nodded, glancing back at his friend's leg before he
walked off to find his brother and the rest of his team.