A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for their feedback. Yes, I know that the first Chapter wasn't great, but I was basically setting the background. Hopefully, this chapter has a little more emotion in it. I'm a newbie when it comes to writing fan fiction for Numb3rs. None of the characters are mine, although I wouldn't mind having Charlie! ;-)

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I walk into my office and set my laptop down on my desk. I can still hear the gunshots, ringing in my ears. I shake my head, to try and rid that awful sound. I go to the chalkboard, pick up a piece of chalk and start writing out some math problems for the next class. I try to concentrate on my work, but I can't. When I placed the chalk against the board, I noticed that my hand was shaking.

'Get a grip, Charlie. You're stronger then this', I thought to myself and started writing again. It must have been a while, because the next time I turn around, Larry and Amita are sitting there.

"Wh-when did you guys come in?" I asked.

"About five minutes ago, Charles", Larry replied, "We heard what happened."

"Are you ok?" Amita asked me. I sighed and nodded, before turning back to the board.

"Don and I are talking...talking about inequality bounding...and uh..." I scratch my head and turn to face them..."and then I heard breaking glass and a bullet goes past my head". I try hard, not to shiver in front of my friends. "There's noise"...I turn back to the board..."There's blood". I feel myself becoming nauseous and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

"Chaos", Larry said.

I turn back to him. "Chaos...chaos presupposes, uh,...an observable or measurable system. A deterministic equation with an outcome sensitive to initial c-conditions," I just spouted off. Honestly, it didn't even sound like my own voice. I turn, once again, to my work and start writing.

"Yes, well, I was speaking in the vernacular, Charles. And yet, you, we have stumbled on a rather lofty discussion here, because one could argue that violence, on the human scale, is reflective of a fundamental state,..." I tried to drown Larry out. I just didn't feel like listening to his ramblings right now. "...subatomic particles. The operatic clashes of galaxies."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring, Larry?" Amita asks him.

"On the macro level, yes, absolutely, but microscopically, perhaps, not so much".

I have had it. I slam the eraser down and turn to face them. "Don laughs it off, like it's some funny thing that happened at the office".

"It's a coping mechanism, Charlie. I mean, he sees violence daily, so he processes it with humor". I look at her blankly.

"Speaking of which, how are you coping?" Larry asks.

I turn to him. "Why? Why is everybody asking me that? Why?" I raised my voice a little.

"Because a little bit of post-traumatic stress is natural, if not, inevitable. And for you to return to work this early, I think is..."

"God, man!", I say with exasperation, "Look guys,"...I clasp my hands together, "uh, I need to concentrate on this". I pause for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "So, can you guys, um...".

Larry nods. "Yeah. O-okay. Of course".

I watch him set the book down. "Okay. Thank you. Thank you". I turn back to the board and start up writing, yet again. It seems that this is all I can do, right now.

"Listen, Charlie, if you want to talk..." Amita starts.

"Yes..." I turn to face her, "Your concern is appreciated. It really is. I just...allow me to work. Please." I beg. She nods and leaves the room.

I sigh and turn back to the board, to work on this problem, that has been giving me trouble. I realize that I did it wrong, yet again and erase it. "No. No.", I say softly. I'm getting frustrated and I know it. I put the eraser down and try one more time, before finally throwing the chalk across the room. I'm in full blown shakes now. I run my hand through my hair, before going to sit down at my desk. Once there, I place my arms on the table and drop my head into them, letting a couple of tears, that I have been holding back, finally flow free.