Series:
Numb3rs
Season: 3
Part
1/?
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…
A/N I: Thank you Celadon for beta-reading, for teaching me American English, and for your support. :-)
A/N II: I made a few assumptions based on the props that were shown on the show. First assumption: Don has a personal car, one he uses when he is not working or on call. Second assumption: Don's address is the8111 Aguacate Street. Third assumption: Charlie's house is located at 580 Elcate Street. Forth assumption: Don has friends other than FBI colleagues.
synopsis: Don shows up at an old crime scene with amnesia. All he can recall are numbers. Now, it is up to Charlie and the FBI team to help Don remember who he is and make sense of those numbers that are filling his mind.
800 Miles To Remember
Prologue: 32nd Street and Manchester
I found myself at the corner of 32nd Street and Manchester. I took in my surroundings. I looked for anything that might trigger a recollection. Unfortunately, only the street sign with the number 32nd was vaguely familiar. I knew the number was significant. In fact, it was just as important as the other numbers that had led me to my present location. I breathed deeply and gathered the strength necessary to keep on going. Now, if only I knew which side of the 32nd Street I was suppose to take. I finally decided to go with the easiest and fastest way, making a right turn on the red light.
I drove slowly through a residential area. I was thankful for the absence of traffic as I kept my pace lower than the allowed speed limit. It gave me the opportunity to appraise every house and to take note of their addresses. As the numbers grew from the 30s to the 40s, I became more and more convinced that I was heading in the correct direction. The number I was looking for was in the 50s. Moreover, I knew I would find it on the left side of the street.
I parked my car in front of a blue and white ordinary bungalow. I noticed right away the yellow ribbon with "POLICE" written on it. It was covering the front door. It was hard to miss. I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. Something bad had happened here. I just knew it. If only I could remember what that was.
The number "8" flashed into my mind. I shook my head hoping to clear my thoughts. Like any other numbers I had recalled so far, this one was just there, deprived of any significant meaning at first. I could rest assured, however, that it would come sooner or later. As my eyes fixed on the yellow tape on the door, I dreaded where this new number would lead me. I drew in a calming breath before stiffly getting out of the car. Pain radiated from my back and hip injuries. I used the car for support as long as it took for me to even out my ragged breathing. Once the pain had subsided to a throb, I slowly made my way towards the house, limping as I went.
I stood in front of the main entrance for several minutes, fixing it like an idiot. I was having second thoughts about what to do next. If I was to go past that yellow police ribbon, I would obviously disturb a crime scene. If I was to respect the law, I might never know what was inside that house and what had brought me to it. Even more distressing, I might never remember who I was. I was bound to conclude that I was in trouble either way.
I tried the door knob against my better judgment. It was locked. Well, I though, maybe I had a key. After all, my key chain had led me back to my car some time ago. Unfortunately, none of the keys fitted that particular lock. I sighed with disappointment. Trying to open the door was one thing. Breaking it down was another. I limped to the side and peaked through one of the windows. The house was dark and empty except for a few pieces of furniture. I decided to go around the back and try my luck over there. If it turned out that I had to break down a door, I might as well be discrete about it.
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TBC
A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. And yes, more is coming. ;-)