Title: All in the Game
Author: CD57
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don, Alan, David and Colby
Rating: PG 13+ / T
Summary: A bunch of teenagers steal some items from the synagogue.
A/N: written for Clue Challenge #6, December 2009 at hurt_don. Prompts: Who? - Don. What? - menorah. Where? - temple/synagogue. This challenge just triggered something I was unable to stop. It's my first Numb3rs fic, so I'm a little bit nervous! Thanks to BadgerGater and Aleo_70 for the beta.
Disclaimer: Nah, they're not mine. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense.
ALL IN THE GAME
9 candles - needed for the Chanukah menorah
8 days - to light the candles
4 teenagers - taking something that doesn't belong to them
1 dreidel - to win the game
"David!" Alan Eppes greeted the co-worker of his oldest son. With the kitchen towel he was carrying Alan dried off his hands as he gestured for the other man to come inside. "Are you looking for Don? He isn't here."
"No, he's out there, trying to find a bunch of teenagers." Special Agent David Sinclair stepped in the hallway of the Craftsman house and followed Alan into the living room. "Actually, I came here to see Charlie. Is he here?"
"No, you just missed him," the older man replied. "He yelled something about too much data for his laptop and rushed off. He had his laptop under his arm and totally forgot his jacket… You know how he gets when he's all worked up. I assume he went to CalSci."
David grinned, the picture of Charlie running away like that was actually easy to bring to mind. "Okay, then I just have to head over there. He's working on something for us."
Alan shrugged. "That figures. Does it have anything to do with those teenagers?"
"What teenagers?" David asked in surprise, thinking about their suspect Mulder, a middle-aged man.
Alan placed the kitchen towel on the table then tilted his head to glance at the agent. "You just mentioned that Don was looking for some teenagers."
Sinclair's face lit up. "Oh. Right. I did. But no, that has got nothing to do with our case."
Alan looked puzzled.
"Don is trying to help out the Rabbi," David explained. "Apparently some kids have stolen some items from the synagogue, probably a presumptuous act."
"Ah." Alan nodded in understanding. His son was a frequent visitor of the synagogue and spent quite some time with the Rabbi. It was only natural that he was trying to help.
"Actually, now that I'm here, can I ask you something?" David asked. At Alan's nod he continued. "Amongst the items that were missing was something called the Chanukah menorah. From what I understood it is some sort of candle holder, which is needed during a celebration that starts in a couple of days. When I asked Don about it, he just gave me the short version, like he didn't want to go into details. When I asked Charlie some time later, I got an even more strange response. As if he was embarrassed or something."
Alan looked at David and gave him a wry smile. "I'm going to get a coffee. You want some?"
Thinking briefly, David decided to spend some more time now he'd gotten this far and nodded before following the other man into the kitchen.
"A menorah is indeed a candle holder… a candelabrum with seven branches. It was used in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. The Chanukah menorah however has eight branches, plus a special place for the shamash… " Alan had poured two cups of coffee, headed to the dining room and placed them on the table.
David gave a brief nod, sat down and wrapped a hand around the cup. "Thanks."
"My wife, Margaret," Alan continued while he took a seat opposite to David. "She… she was very good in those ancient traditions. She knew all the backgrounds, had a perfect way of explaining it to the boys and tried her best to keep them interested." His fingers clutched the mug as he stared into the cup, momentarily lost in his thoughts.
----
Alan was very tired when he came home that night. A project developer was pushing the department to finish some plans for a new residential area with a central park. He was responsible for both the play area for the children and the houses around it and had re-drawn those plans three times now. The final sketches would have to be ready first thing in the morning, which meant he had to go over them again at home.
Alan normally didn't like to bring his work home. He liked to keep both worlds separated. Being home meant offering relief to Margaret, who was pretty busy with her job as a lawyer and raising Don and Charlie. Especially Charlie, who was turning out to be a handful with his special gift.
"Hi, honey," Margaret greeted him as she stepped out of the kitchen. "You look beat. Are you okay?"
Alan took off his coat and wearily put it away. "Yeah, I'm fine." He placed his briefcase with the blueprints sticking out on both sides on the floor next to his favorite chair before stepping closer to give his wife a kiss. "There's just this big rush on this project."
He didn't miss her glance at the plans he had brought home. "I know, I know," he apologized. "I'm sorry, but these need to be handed in tomorrow and I really ought to look at them closely, just to see we didn't screw up with the rushed adjustments we were forced to make today."
"All right," she replied, squeezing his hand. "Tell you what… dinner is in the oven. Why don't you sit down and do your stuff while I keep the boys busy with lighting the candles and a game of dreidel."
He gave her a smile, realizing again what a wonderful woman he had married. He was about to tell her so when loud, quick steps made him turn just in time to catch his youngest son, who'd come running down the stairs and simply threw himself in his father's arms. "Daddy! You're home!"
"Hi, there, buddy." Alan's face lit up as he cuddled with his son, ruffling through his curly hair in a loving way before putting the five-year old boy back on his feet on the floor. "How was your day?"
"Good, good!" Charlie jumped from one foot to the other with excitement. "Can we play now?"
Alan shook his head. "Not now, Charlie," he replied with regret.
"Charlie, go and get Don," Margaret stepped in. "Daddy has some work to do so we are going to light the candles with the three of us and play dreidel."
Charlie pouted. "Not wanna play dreidel, mom. Don always wins."
Margaret gave her son a smile. "Well, then we should try real hard to beat him tonight, right? Go on, hurry now. We need to get started, it's almost sundown."
As Charlie ran off to get Don, Margaret gently pushed her husband towards the chair. "I'll get you a beer."
Alan sat down, opened his briefcase and took out the blueprints, spreading them across the coffee table. With a "thanks, love," he took the proffered beer and concentrated on the first drawing on the table.
He was interrupted again as Charlie and Don came down.
"Hi, dad," Don greeted him casually.
"Hey, Donnie," Alan looked up. His oldest son was growing up so fast. With the blue jeans, the dark colored, hooded sweatshirt with a baseball print on the front and his dark, ruffled hair that was too long to be short but too short to be long Don was starting to look more and more like a teenager.
"Da-ad," the boy whined. "Don't call me that."
Right. He really should stop calling his son Donnie now he was growing up, but he was so used to that name. Plus, it had such a nice ring to it. It sounded more precious and tender and it gave him the feeling of being able to keep his son close to him forever. He let out a sigh. "Sorry, son. How was school?"
"Okay, I guess," Don replied with a shrug. Then his eyes lit up. "Have I already told you I get to play in the baseball final this year?"
Alan was about to respond when Charlie jumped in front of him, his little hands already going into the direction of his plans. "Wow!" the younger boy called out. "Cool, dad! Can I help?"
Grabbing his son around the waist, Alan quickly pulled the boy back. "No, son, thank you."
"But daddy, there's all numbers on it. I wanna help." Charlie struggled to free himself as Alan moved him further from the table.
Don stepped closer, placing an arm around his younger brother as their father let go. "Come on, buddy. Dad is busy. We're going to sit at the dining table."
With gratitude, Alan watched how Don led Charlie away before turning his attention back to the task at hand. While he concentrated on his blueprints, he registered his family getting ready for the Chanukah ritual. Margaret had taken the menorah from the window and brought it to the table as the boys argued about whose turn it was to light the candles.
"Don't fight over this," he heard Margaret attempt to stop their sons from arguing. "This is the third day, so it is Don's turn. Charlie, your turn is tomorrow, remember?"
Alan grinned. Despite their agreement on who got to light the candles on which day of the holiday, Charlie objected to it. Apparently, Margaret had convinced him to wait for his turn, however, as Charlie didn't utter another sound. Glancing over his shoulder, Alan watched how Don lit the shamash in the middle.
"Good job, sweetie," Margaret said to Don then she looked at Alan.
He nodded, realizing she wanted him to say the first prayer. "Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel chanukah."
His oldest then carefully took the shamash and used it to light the three candles on the right, starting with the left one, just as they had taught him.
"Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam, she'ashah nisim l'avoteinu, bayamim ha'heim, bazman hazeh," Margaret softly spoke the second prayer.
"Mommy?" Charlie's voice was almost as soft as his mother's. "What does that mean?"
"It's a blessing, sweetie," Margaret explained. "A blessing to the Holy One."
"Why?" the little boy wanted to know.
"It is a 'thank you'. For teaching us this ritual and for all the miracles given to us and our ancestors."
"What are enchestors?" Charlie asked again as he struggled with the word.
"Our great-great-great-grandparents, buddy," Don replied. "This celebration is to remember that a long, long time ago our people won a war against the Greeks and got the Holy Temple in Jerusalem back. Right, mom?"
"That's right, Don," Margaret nodded.
Alan could hear in her voice that she was proud of her son. He had to agree, apparently Don had been paying attention during those rituals the previous years. He vaguely heard her explain to Charlie about the miracle that occurred upon the re-dedication of the Temple, that the one-day supply of olive-oil to keep the menorah flames going had miraculously lasted for eight days.
It was hard to concentrate on his plans, as he heard Charlie object. "That's not possible. There was not enough oil. You can calculate how long it will last."
"Yet it lasted longer, honey," Margaret answered patiently, but Alan still heard Charlie objecting.
"Buddy," Don kindly interrupted his brother, "that's why it's called a miracle. Can we play now?"
Alan sighed. It was hard to argue with a five-year old to begin with, but when that five-year old could easily make complicated calculations and form equations and formulas in his head without scribbling them down, arguing became next to impossible. He greatly admired his wife and Donnie for their patience with the youngest of the family. When he realized that the coins for the game were being divided and that the dreidel was spinning for the first time, he dragged himself back to the city plans and concentrated on the design of the park.
----
David had listened in silence. Sipping from his coffee, he looked at Alan. "Okay, so this special menorah holds eight candles, resembling those eight days from the miracle in the Holy Temple."
"Actually, it holds nine candles," Alan explained. "The one in the middle is placed higher. That's for the shamash, which means server, or helper. That's the first candle that you light and you use that one to kindle the others."
"Ah, okay." The seven-branched candle holders were kind of familiar to David, he'd seen them in the stores, but he couldn't remember ever seeing one with nine. "And this 'dreidel'? What kind of game is that?"
"Well, it starts with giving each player the same amount of coins. Margaret always had chocolate coins for the kids, which they could eat on the last day. Instead of ten, we always used seven coins each, so the game didn't last too long for them to lose interest. Anyway, after everybody places one coin in the center pot, each player spins the dreidel."
Alan paused to finish his coffee, then continued his explanation. "The dreidel is a spinner with four sides. There's a Hebrew letter painted on each side, the letters are the Nun, the Gimel, the Hei and the Shin. Together they represent a phrase, referring back to the miracle with the olive oil, 'Nes Gadol Haya Sham', which means 'A great miracle happened there'. More coffee?"
After David's nod, Alan got up and poured them another cup. He sat down again. "Now, based on which letter turns up when you spin it, the player either loses or gains coins. The Nun stands for nothing, so your turn is just over. The Hei means half, so you get half of what is in the pot. The Shin means put, so you need to add another coin to the center. The Gimel means all, that's the one you want, because then you get everything from the pot."
"So you mentioned Don won this game often?" David asked.
Alan tilted his head to look at the other man. "Yes. For some reason, luck was always on Donnie's side during this game. That's why Charlie didn't particularly like playing it. Even at the age of five, he was applying math to the outcome of the spinning process. He tried to calculate the chance of the Gimel coming up several times in a row."
David laughed. "But the outcome didn't match reality."
Alan shook his head and rolled his eyes. "No. He probably didn't take enough variables into account, like the surface of the table, the position of the players, the draft coming through the doors…. Despite the statistical improbability, Donny kept winning."
"So, what happened?" From the way Alan was staring into nothing with his mind obviously in the past, David guessed there was more to this story than he'd been told so far.
----
Alan had about half of his work on the plans done when the sounds coming from the dining table slowly started to draw his attention back to the game.
"Donnie! You can't spin the Gimel again. You had it three times in a row! That can't be, that can't be!" Charlie sounded agitated.
"Charlie, calm down," Margaret tried to reason. "This is a game which requires luck, not numbers."
"Numbers don't lie, mom. This is not possible."
"Yeah?" Don asked in a taunting way. "Sorry, buddy. Luck is on my side today."
"Come on, Charlie, let go of the pot. It goes to Don and then we go for another round," Margaret said.
"No! It can't be!"
"Charlie!"
The sound of something falling, followed by the sharp outcry of his wife made Alan sit up straight. He quickly turned around. From the corner of his eye he saw Charlie throwing his chair backwards and running out of the room. Dimly, he was aware of Margaret's eyes which were wide with shock. The immediate source of his attention was the menorah. It was lying on its side and had set the Persian table rug on fire. Donnie had already jumped up and quickly folded the rug, frantically attempting to stop the fire by slapping at the back.
Alan didn't remember ever having moved that fast. He rushed into the kitchen, snatched the fire-extinguisher from its holder and ran back.
Margaret had gotten to her feet and had moved a few steps back from the table. Donnie's attempts at controlling the fire by folding the rug had been successful and Alan just sprayed until the last of the flames were gone.
He set the fire extinguisher within reach on the table and looked at Margaret. She kept looking at the burned rug on the table until she seemed absolutely sure that the fire was out, then turned to leave. "I'm going to have a talk with Charlie."
Alan just nodded and concentrated on controlling his breathing before he gently patted his oldest son on the shoulder. "Good job, Donnie. Good job."
Don stood there, staring at the black, still smoking spot on the table and the remnants of the rug. "Yeah," he replied absently.
Alan regarded him, then followed his gaze to the table. He heard his wife talking to Charlie and it was clear that she was very upset with their youngest son. He also didn't fail to notice some chocolate coins that lay scattered over the floor. "Charlie did this?"
"Yeah," was Don's only response.
"Why don't you sit down for a while, Donnie," Alan suggested. "I'll clean this up before mom comes down."
----
"Wow," David commented. "So Charlie had knocked over the menorah with the burning candles."
"Yes. Not on purpose, of course. He was upset with the game and threw his coins over the table. We were very lucky with Don's immediate reaction. He managed to keep the fire under control. It still gives me the shivers. We could have easily had a much bigger fire if it weren't for him."
"It must have been a scary moment," David said. "Now I know why they both were reluctant to talk about this holiday,."
"My wife was pretty upset with Charlie," Alan continued. "See, you must know that she had never raised her voice to him until that evening. I just let them be for a while and simply cleaned up the mess. I figured Donnie needed some time, he seemed pretty rattled. So I got another shock when I found him, in the bathroom, holding his hands under the tap."
"He burned himself?" David asked in surprise.
"And failed to tell me, yes." Alan shrugged. "He just stood there. He was in a considerable amount of pain, even had tears rolling down his cheeks. His palms looked awfully red and blistered and I ended up in the ER with him that night where they treated him for second degree burns on both of his hands."
David stared at the older man. "Why didn't he say something?"
"I asked him that same question, later that evening when I was driving him home. You know what he said?" Alan shook his head in dismay. "That he was afraid it would upset his mother even more than she already was. That he was afraid she would get angrier with Charlie if she knew about Donnie hurting his hands. That Charlie was only five, that it wasn't his fault. That it was his, for winning, so he didn't want us to know."
"Always looking after Charlie," David mumbled.
"Luckily, his hands healed without scarring," Alan completed his story with a sad smile on his face. "Although with those burns, Donnie was unable to play in that final baseball game that year. So Margaret brought a Christmas tree to the house, just to cheer him up. It was the last time we celebrated Chanukah."
-12E4567890-