Disclaimer: Numb3rs isn't mine. All relevant information coming from online sources – their credibility could be called into question but no worries.

Warning: Relatively dark/sensitive subject matter – proceed with caution (it's experimenting time for me, again).

X is for XTC

He was on top of the world. Or more to the truth, he felton top of the world because the CalSci Library building didn't even come close to being the tallest structure on Earth.

But with the drug running through his veins, the actual height was irrelevant.

For the first time in a very long time, Peter felt weightless. There was no great, crushing burden on his shoulders; nothing mattered beyond what he was feeling right now, at this moment. It was… liberating, to say the least.

Consequences be damned, he felt happy.

Which is why he didn't quite understand why there were gasps, shocks and small screams of surprise (definitely the girls, he was sure) coming from below him, about thirty feet down at least. Sure, he was standing on the ledge of the roof but he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't going to fall off – the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. It was a particularly windy night and even if the breeze did pick up as it had been won't to do the whole day, it would push him back towards the roof of the library and not on to the panicking idiots down below.

He took a deep breath, smiling as the fresh air filled his lungs. It was beautiful tonight: the lights of the stars above him, the lights from the electronic devices below him – illumination spilling onto the small courtyard from the ever-lit library with its huge windows. It was May and everybody who wanted a decent shot at graduating could be found within the four walls underneath his feet, hitting the books hard.

Peter wasn't sure how long he'd been enjoying the view when his chemically sharpened senses picked up the sound of someone else joining him on the roof. He turned his head with a grin on his face to welcome the newcomer – he didn't mind the company because the more, the merrier. Other people needed to realize just how great it felt to be where he was.

It was a dark-haired man in a suit but Peter didn't recognize him as somebody from the faculty, the library or associated with CalSci in any sense – besides, the teachers he'd worked with could just only be asked to remember they had a class to teach, let alone to dress as impeccably as this stranger.

The man continued to approach him cautiously as Peter watched him, unperturbed, and was surprised to see that there was another man behind the first, a man he recognized very well.

"He-ey, Professor Eppes!" Peter greeted cheerfully. "What are you doing up here?"

"I was wondering the same thing about you, Peter," replied Professor Eppes. He looked uncomfortable; Peter wondered why. He was often shy around the genius professor but tonight, nothing irked him – the professor should feel the same way. Life was too short to worry about being hesitant or shy. Live for the moment, as his room-mate would say, and as he'd said when he'd handed a few pills over to Peter to make him feel better after Lizzie dumped him. Right before the finals. But that was no matter now – he hadn't felt this good in a long time and if Lizzie felt happier away from him, then who was he to feel bad about it? He was happy, she was happy, everybody was happy.

"Peter?" It was the stranger speaking this time, still treading slowly towards him but he stopped as Peter swivelled his head around to look at him.

"That's me!" he replied. He peered closer at the stranger's face. "Who're you?"

"My name's Don Eppes, I'm wi-,"

"Hey, so you're Professor Eppes' FBI brother, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me bu-," Peter again cut off the Professor's brother.

"That's awesome, just awesome. People on campus talk about you all the time, you know? There're running bets every time you show up on whether the Professor's lecture that day will be cancelled or not." Peter look forward again, it strained his neck to look back so much, but he continued talking. "According to the odds, Professor Eppes is more likely to send a TA to teach us if you show up, less if it's some other FBI guy."

"Is that so?"

"Yup," Peter said, nodding. He frowned a little as he noticed that the watching crowd below him were being pushed back slowly by what looked like campus security guys, away from the ground directly beneath him. Strange. Speaking of strange, he looked back again.

"Not that I mind, but what are you two doing up here?"

"Just came to talk to you, Peter," replied the Professor's brother.

"Huh. Okay. Sure. What about?"

"Why are you on the ledge, Peter?" He wondered why they kept on saying his name over and over again.

"Me? It's nice up here, I like the view."

"But you could fall."

"True… but I'm not going to."

"What makes you say that?"

Interesting. Peter wasn't quite sure of the answer to that question. "I donno but… I won't. Besides, it's worth the risk. Everything looks great from way up here. It feels great."

"But everyone's worried about you down there."

"Really?" Peter was surprised. "Why would they be worried about me? I'm fine. Never felt better, actually."

"It's a windy day, Peter, and you're sweating. You don't want to get sick, do you? You should come down with us."

In the middle of all this, Professor Eppes' brother had come even closer and was now only a few feet to the side from Peter, his arms resting on the ledge Peter stood upon. Looking over his shoulder, Peter noted that the Professor had stayed where he was and looking the most nervous Peter had ever seen him – inside the classroom, Professor Eppes was like a cyclone, moving here and there, constantly in motion and now it seemed the Professor's movement was limited to the slight shuffling of his feet.

Peter felt concerned. He liked Professor Eppes and this wasn't normal for the elder man. "What's wrong, Professor?" he asked, ignoring the questions of the brother. Questions, questions, all the time questions, if not on paper, then people asking him, prodding him, pestering him.

"I'm fine, Peter, just worried that you might fall and hurt yourself. It's a long way down."

"Isn't it? That's what I like about it."

"But if you fall, you'll die, Peter," said the brother agent bluntly. Thank God. Peter liked blunt.

"True. The speed at which I'll fall, combined with the surface of the ground, I most likely will."

"From what Charlie tells me, you have friends and family who love you very much and wouldn't want you to fall. Do you want to die, Peter?"

Peter considered this, before deciding it was an unfair question and so responded with one of his own:

"Do you?"

For the first time, the agent looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're a cop, you must know all about almost dying, putting yourself at risk."

"That's different Peter. The only time I put myself at risk is when it means someone else might get to live."

"But you do it intentionally, don't you?"

"Most of the time. But why are you risking your life, Peter? If there's something the problem in your life, people will help you, we will help you. It can be fixed but not by standing on a ledge thirty feet off the ground."

I just like the view, Peter thought but didn't say it out loud. He asked instead, "So you intentionally put your life at risk even though I'm sure your friends and family wouldn't want you to. Especially Professor Eppes here," Peter said, looking at the mathematician who now looked more troubled then he had before, his eyes shifting back and forth between his brother and Peter as though watching a tennis match. God, Peter hated tennis. Lizze had had a thing for Andy Roddick, damn bastard.

"I made a choice, Peter."

"And I made mine. I know the risks, standing here, but it's intentional. So what makes you so different?"

All the questions were confusing him and Peter wasn't feeling as happy as he had been before. He was sure the reason he'd felt so was because of the pills Matt had kindly given him, and that had been a few hours ago but it seemed like a long time to him. Peter peered into the crowd below, trying to see if his room-mate was amongst them. He could do with a few more, they were really good – made all his worries go away, make him realize he'd been fretting about nothing at all.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was aware that the brother was talking to him, but he wasn't listening. He kept on thinking back to the pills Matt had provided – they'd been blue, with a bird in flight imprinted on them.

The wind had picked up speed around him but his thoughts were on a different path now – he was sifting through childhood memories, of another time when he'd lived without worries, without thinking of consequences and heart ache - flashes of red, yellow and blue; late nights with a torchlight under his blanket reading on till early dawn; heroes, villains; is it a bird? Is it a plane?

Peter suddenly had an idea.

"Hey Professor? Do you think a man can fly?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved against the wind by pushing himself forward and closed his eyes, feeling the breeze envelop him as his feet left solid concrete to walk on emptiness.

He didn't expect to feel arms grab him and with a sudden shock, his eyes opened and he found himself suspended in mid-air, feet clawing at nothingness in an unconscious attempt to gain purchase. What had stopped his flight?

Looking up, he saw the answer to his question - The professor's brother had grabbed him by the arm. Damn, he was fast.

Why won't he let me fly? The question sprang to his lips but Peter didn't ask. He could see the strain the brother was feeling just by attempting to hold onto him, skin on skin, hand wrapped around wrist, the agent's shoulder taking all of Peter's weight.

Vaguely, he could hear screams from below him, the agent above him telling him to climb up using the grip between them. He could see the Professor grabbing his brother by the back of his suit jacket – the agent had been pulled over the edge more than a little himself when he'd caught Peter and taken all his weight, and the Professor was probably trying to make sure his brother didn't join Peter in his interrupted flight.

But Peter's heart was pounding, and his wrists were sweaty and he wasn't a lightweight thanks to all the hours he'd spent swimming since as a young boy.

His grip was slipping and he knew the agent knew it too; he could see in the agent's eyes a fear and desperation that he did not understand. He felt kinda bad for the Professor's brother – he'd gotten involved when he should've just let things well enough alone.

It was time this ended. Peter only needed to pull a little to have his wrist slip from the agent's grasp. He noticed the twin looks of horror on both the brother's faces for only a moment before he closed his eyes and let the feel of nothing but air underneath him carry him away.

Khatum

XTC: Another way of referring to Class A drug Ecstasy, along with many other names such as the Hug Drug, X, MDSM, Adam (heh, my brother's name). Avoid both brother and drug for sake of ones' own sanity.