Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'Fly' and the TV-show 'Numb3rs'!
A huge thank you to starfishyeti for her beta-skills-, sorry for making you cry.
Fly
a numb3rs song-fic
by elessar73
Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light
"Charlie, no Charlie listen to me," Don yelled into the receiver of his phone, but his little brother had already hung up on him.
The agent slammed his cell down on his desk swearing. "Damn, Charlie. Will you ever learn to listen?"
Don ran his hands through his hair leaving it spiky. He leaned back in his seat and whirled around until his head was spinning. He felt a little childish but it was the best way to clear his mind after all.
When he finally came to a stop Don squeezed his eyes shut to banish the blurry vision and with it the thoughts about his brother.
He felt inquiring eyes on him. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and looked straight at his teammates. Don sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Just Charlie," he explained. A slight flush started to color his face. He felt embarrassed for losing his temper in front of his team. 'Only Charlie had that special gift. Only his brother could make him feel angry and loved at once.' He wondered how and when that change in their relationship had started- but he liked it. Don smirked. He really wanted to call his brother back, but he fought the urge down. 'This time he wouldn't give in. It was Charlie's turn to make the first move. He would wait.'
Don turned back to his desk and his work. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his agents grinning at him foolishly. Don's flush deepened. 'Damn it. Charlie would pay for that.'
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Soon Don was again engrossed in his work. He hadn't wasted a second thought on his brother when his cell started to sound in the familiar tone that announced a call from a family member.
A faint smile crept on the agent's face. It had taken his younger brother long enough to come to his senses. Without a further look at the display Don took the call.
"What took you so long, Buddy?" He asked in a voice displaying all the joy he felt because of his brother's call.
But the caller remained silent. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Don's stomach.
"Hey, Buddy. Is this supposed to be funny?" Don tried to assure himself that everything was okay but his tone of voice had changed into concerned. A frown appeared on his forehead. Something was wrong.
"Donnie."
Just the touch of a word not even a whisper.
"Dad?" Don asked with surprise added to the mix of emotions. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call me, but..."
"Donnie," the older man interrupted his son. Alan's voice was a little firmer now to make sure that the following words were heard. There was no way that Alan could repeat what he had to say. "Charlie was in an accident."
Five simple words. Five simple words were all it took to send Don over the edge. He rose to his feet. His legs were shaking and he reached out his free hand to grab the desk for support.
"W-w-what?" Don stammered. "Dad, what happened - where is he - how?"
"He ran out of his office," Alan swallowed hard to keep the sobs threatening to come out at bay. "He was exited, telling Amita something about finding the solution. He didn't pay attention, Donnie, like so often before." The sobs found their way out. Alan couldn't hold them back, didn't want to hold them back any longer. His little boy was hurt and he had the damned right to sob and cry and scream.
Don pressed the cell closer to his ear listening to his father's expression of grief and sorrow. He lost himself in his thoughts about what he'd just heard. He tried to think positively- Charlie would be okay, wouldn't he?
"He, he ran into a car and..." Alan somehow found the strength to carry on but Don had heard enough. He just wanted to get to his brother.
"Where and how is he?"
The sobbing at the other end of the line increased again sending cold shudders along Don's spine. That wasn't good.
"Dad," Don yelled to get his father's attention." Tell me, I need to know."
"UCLA Medical center. We're losing him, Donnie."
"NO!"
Don's cell crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces. Don stared numbly at the shards . The sudden silence enveloped him completely. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't believe. He didn't want to. He couldn't lose Charlie. No way could something like that happen.
A slight touch on his forearm startled him out of his stiffness.
"Don, what's wrong?" Megan asked in a pleading voice.
"I have to go." Don dashed out of the office. He couldn't explain anything.
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Don opened the door to Charlie's room in the I.C.U. but didn't dare step in. He scanned the room from this position and shook his head in disbelief. 'So, not a lot of equipment.' Giving the conditions Charlie was in he had expected much more high tech. But all he saw was a heart-monitor, beeping in a constant rhythm and an IV standing at the side of the bed providing the patient -Don refused to think of him as Charlie, not yet-with some kind of medicine. The bed stood in the center of the white room. Don took a closer look around. A cold and unfriendly light streamed down from the ceiling and dipped the room into an uncomfortable brightness. With a twist of his hand he turned the light off. The sunlight streaming in through the window was enough to lighten the room. A beam of sunlight touched the wall across the bed leaving a bright and warm blaze.
Don closed his eyes. He wished that spot of hope could take away all of his fears and warm his heart in confidence. Don's dark eyes fluttered open. 'No time for sentimental stuff!' His view glided across the walls. There were no pictures, no colored shades or TV to cheer up the patient. 'Patients in this room probably no longer need that kind of stuff.' The only decoration he found was a simple wooden cross hanging on the left side of the bed. Don shuddered- the room looked like a morgue.
His view was finally drawn towards the slumped figure in the bed. The man lay absolutely still. 'This couldn't be Charlie. Even in his sleep Charlie never found that state of peace. It's a mistake.'
For a moment Don allowed himself to feel hope. But the mop of curly hair framing a much too pale but familiar face destroyed it within a second. A sob escaped Don's mouth. He closed his eyes against the truth. Open eyes meant he had to face the horror of Charlie's fight. Don swallowed down the knot in his throat and opened his eyes. He had to find out the truth. He approached the bed on wobbly legs and at last Don stared down at his little brother.
"Charlie," he whispered in a tear-stricken voice. His darkest fear had become reality.
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Charlie's face appeared to be almost unharmed. Don just noticed a swelling on the forehead, nothing else. Charlie's usually expressive eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged and shallow. Don clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from touching the younger man. His brother looked so peaceful and the last thing Don wanted was to destroy this fragile state. But he longed for that contact. He needed to feel his brother - once again.
Don reached out his hand and with just his fingertips he caressed Charlie's cheek tenderly. Though it was just a butterfly touch Charlie flinched under. Don froze in his movement and for a split second he considered breaking the connection, but then Charlie leaned into the touch and pushed his face slightly against Don's hand. No matter what Don wouldn't take his hand away. He would hold on for God's sake, at least as long as Charlie allowed him to do so.
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Charlie felt someone touching him. The contact left fervent tracks on his cheek. He opened his eyes to small slits and recognized his brother. He felt a warm sensation run through his body. Don was there, his brother was touching him. And although pain and grief engulfed him, the touch hurting him so much he didn't want it to end. Charlie tried to focus on his brother's face ignoring the pain.
His older brother stood with his head bent. Through Don's closed eyes tears were squeezing out. The sight of it made Charlie's sorrow deepen. Don wasn't supposed to cry. Don never cried. Don was the strong one, always.
Charlie encouraged himself. 'I must be strong for him now.'
The young man took in a deep breath. He immediately cursed himself when the pain increased rapidly due to the movement. He needed to keep the pain at bay, just a little bit longer.
"Don't cry Donnie," Charlie whispered in a soft voice.
The sound was low but it reached Don in his grief. Don's brown eyes flew open and revealed dark pools of misery. He locked eyes with Charlie and felt a pang of pain shoot to his heart. Charlie's dark eyes used to sparkle and glisten. They were able to light up every room, but now they just mirrored anguish and pain.
Don couldn't hold his brother's eyes. Didn't want to see him in so much pain. He turned his head away. A sob stuck in his throat threatening to break free, but Don wouldn't let it. He just needed a moment to get his composure. Suddenly he felt a cold touch on his chin. Charlie's fingers moved across his face trying to reach up higher to wipe the tears away.
"Everything is fine Donnie. No need to cry." Charlie's hand persisted on Don's face but he started to tremble, this little gesture of love had cost him a lot of his remaining strength. But he wasn't done yet.
"I have to go Donnie, but please don't worry. Everything will be fine. I'll be there for you always and when it's your turn I'll come get you, later, but..." Charlie's voice faded away. The sentence was left unspoken but Don had understood. Don's stomach cramped painfully. His dying brother was trying to comfort him. It was so wrong. He was the one to protect his little brother and he had failed him so damned bad.
Charlie's strength vanished all of a sudden. His hand plopped limply on the bed sheets. His eyes were closed again and he was gasping for breath. He couldn't hold it together any longer. Death was pulling at him waiting to hug the young man deep in his arms. Charlie wasn't afraid of what was to come; he just wasn't ready to go yet. First he needed to know that Don forgave him. He had made so many mistakes throughout his life. He couldn't leave without the knowledge that Don still loved him.
Stabs of pain tortured Charlie's broken body. Even the morphine, running in a steady stream through him couldn't hold them at bay.
"Donnie," Charlie pleaded. His shaking hands passed lightly over the sheets searching for Don's hand.
"What Charlie? What do you need?" Don grabbed his brother's hand and held it tight. Charlie relaxed at the touch. The pain seemed to vanish at least a bit.
"I need you to forgive me Donnie," Charlie spoke in a low voice.
Don frowned. "What? Buddy, what are you talking about?" Don wondered if he'd heard Charlie right. "Forgive you for what, Buddy? There's nothing to forgive." He caressed Charlie's hand lightly with his thumb.
Charlie opened his eyes again and searched the image of his brother. "No?" He asked in a voice that was becoming more and more faint.
Don strained his ears not wanting to miss even one of his precious words. He shook his head. "No Buddy."
"But, but all the love I took away from you, when Mum was with me in Princeton, all the things you had to sacrifice because of me..." Tears wetted Charlie's eyes and he had to swallow hard.
"Sssshttt, Buddy," Don soothed him. "That was just the way it was supposed to be. Maybe I didn't understand it then, but now I do. And at last I've been rewarded with the best brother ever." Don felt tears of his own running down his face. This was much more then he could take.
"That's good," Charlie sighed in relief. A faint smile crept on his face, revealing for a short moment a shadow of the real Charlie.
"I didn't want it any other way, Buddy."
Charlie nodded and closed his weary eyes.
For the first time Don realized that he was standing bent over the bed. His back began to arch and he thought about a change in position. Without letting his brother's hand loose he sat down on the bed. His view fell on the wall where the sunlight had painted it golden. The beam had moved further on and now lay on the floor. He watched the beam move on realising all of a sudden how quiet Charlie has become. Panic filled his mind and he stared at his brother.
"Charlie! Charlie stay, you can't leave me!" Don slapped Charlie's hand hoping to wake him up. Deep inside Don knew that he was acting selfishly, but he couldn't lose his little brother. He looked in Charlie's pale pain stricken face. 'I should let him go.' The rational thinking part of him knew that, but his heart was another matter. After all the time they had lost when they'd drifted away during college and later as adults- 'I can't lose him.'
"Charlie, fight this. For me," Don wanted to yell this words right into Charlie's face but they dropped soundlessly from his lips. Don's head sank down on the pillow close to his brother's head. He couldn't hold back the sob he'd been suppressing since he had entered the room. Don lost himself in grief and sorrow. He forgot about the world around him and cried.
A feather light touch on the back of his head startled him out of his fugue. Soft fingers ran through his spiky hair.
"Don't cry, Donnie."
For a moment Charlie's voice was strong enough to soothe him. But his heroic attempt ended in a heavy coughing fit. Charlie's heartbeat increased sending the beep of the monitor into overdrive. Don nearly had a panic attack. He stared at the door, but nobody came to help. He patted Charlie's back and offered him a glass of water. Finally Charlie calmed down and with him the beeping sound. The incident had left Charlie worn out. He looked more fragile than before. Cold sweat covered the small face. Desperately, Don searched for something to wipe it away. Not finding anything he dragged the sleeves of his shirt over the palms of his hand and rubbed softly across Charlie's face.
"Calm down, Buddy. Donnie's here. Everything is fine."
A smile on Charlie's face though it was short lived made Don's heart jump in joy. But he couldn't fool himself for long. Charlie's face looked ashen almost translucent. Don's heart constricted, his brother was balancing along the knife-edge of death. Don squeezed his eyes. Blank horror filled his soul when he at last accepted the unbearable truth.
"Fly little wing," Don whispered to himself.
But the words didn't remain unnoticed. They echoed in Charlie's dazed mind and he tried to count the repetitions but he couldn't hold track of the numbers.
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Charlie's mind was a fuzzy mess. Incoherent parts of memories flickered through it like the short flame of a lighter. 'An unknown prime number hidden inside a big prime number, number siev, Riemann, P vs NP, Fibonacci, surface tension, velocity, chaos theory' - Charlie knew that this should mean something to him. Numbers were his life, but no matter how hard he strained his brain he couldn't make sense of it all. His numbers had abandoned him. He wetted his dry lips with the tip of his tongue getting ready for the last act.
"I love you, Donnie," he croaked in a gravelly voice.
Don looked stunned. He felt tears in his eyes again. "I know Buddy." He pressed Charlie's hand even tighter, afraid of letting go.
"I've always loved you more than my numbers," Charlie's voice faded into a whisper.
"We always knew, Buddy," Don sobbed.
" 'kay," Charlie tried to grin. "M-my numbers have already left me, I hope to get them back..., but, but you're here and I'm sure Dad is lurking behind the door," Charlie swallowed down a sob. "And, and when I close my eyes I can see Mom's shadow awaiting me in a misty cloud."
"Charlie," Don pleaded. "Don't talk that way. You have to fight."
"Too late. This is something I can't fight."
"I'll help you, please hold tight."
"Donnie my brave and strong brother, always a fighter, always the protector but this time..." Charlie's voice became softer with each word.
Don sobbed loudly and pressed his face into Charlie's pillow.
"Even your strength is not enough for this." Charlie rested his hand on his brother's head.
"I'll always be with you in the numbers. Numbers are a part of me. Numbers are everything. It's past time Donnie." The last words were just the breeze of a whisper but they send Don over the edge.
"No, no, no."
"Donnie, please just remember the numbers. I will always be by your side in numbers."
Under his tears Don found part of his strength again. "I'll remember Buddy. I will count every rising of the moon and setting of the sun, counting the days till we meet again."
"Mmmmhh," Charlie muttered. "I'll look out for you."
"Charlie." Don shook Charlie's shoulder making him groan and open his eyes. But his view was unfocused already far away.
Don stared numb at the heart monitor just to be sure that his little brother was still with him. A deep inhaling sound made him look at Charlie again. Teardrops hung on Charlie's dark eyelashes glittering like diamonds in the fading light of the sun. The sunbeam had crossed the room and now lay right across Charlie's face. The warmth of the sun made Charlie smile. It gave him back some of his strength. And in a nearly soundless voice Charlie began to count. "1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21..."
Don's mouth dropped open but he didn't care, as long as Charlie was counting he was still with him and Don was able to memorize every tone of Charlie's voice. But it didn't last long, not long enough for Don anyway. Charlie's voice became fainter and fainter. Finally Don couldn't hear him anymore, just saw the soundless movements of lips. Don grabbed his brother's hand tight and took over." ...67-68-69-70-71-72-73-74-75-76-77-78-79-80..." Don held on for dear life as if the numbers were a sort of a lifeline to Charlie.
At last Charlie stopped breathing. The numbers recording his heart beats took a downward turn. They raced with the speed of light towards zero and crashed into a flat line.
This was the end. Don sobbed loudly. His little brother was gone and had left him to hold on just to numbers. 'I will Buddy.'
After what seemed to be an eternity Don let go of Charlie's hand and folded them on the sheets. He bowed his head and said a silent prayer.
Absent-mindedly he rubbed at his tears swollen face and wiped away the dried tracks of the moisture.
One last time he tussled through Charlie's dark curls and let his hand slide over Charlie's face to feel the soft skin. He bent forward to kiss his brother's forehead and cheeks.
'Fly little wing.'
He dragged his view away from Charlie and looked through the window. The sun had begun to set and a glimpse of the light stroked Don's face. The sky glistened in red, orange and yellow. Not a cloud disturbed the perfect image of the moment.
"One," Don counted silently. A faint smile played around the corners of his mouth.
'Charlie was right everything is numbers and numbers are Charlie.'
THE END
