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Just in case you couldn't tell, I do not own NUMB3Rs or anything associated with it, although I really wish I did.

Enjoy!

2. Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole

"There is a little boy inside the man that is my brother." – Anna Quindlan

In a screech of tires and flashing lights, the cruiser pulled up on the quad walkway, deterred from continuing by the sheer mass of people gathered at the center. Don was out of the car before it had come to a full stop; slamming the door behind him, he took off at a run towards the fleet of gaily flashing ambulances parked beside what remained of the fountain. Wading through the crowd of medics, campus police, and distressed college students, he assessed the damage.

Little remained of the quad as it had been; the once-proud fountain, complete with the statue of Alfred the Great, had been reduced to charred and scattered chunks of marble. Amongst the wreckage, he spotted several oddly-shaped fragments, and it was only when the smell of burnt hair and flesh rudely invaded his nose that he realized that they were corpses. If ever he had been in danger of losing his professional demeanor at a scene, this would be it; he covered his mouth and choked back the bile that rose in his throat with much difficulty. Somewhere ahead of him, he heard someone who did not have his degree of self-control, pitiful heaving noises interspersed with protests.

"No, no, really, I'm all right, I'm fine…" A pause, then… blech.

"Sir, I'm just trying to help. You've sustained severe burns that require immediate medical attention."

"I'm fine. Go help, go help the students, they need…" Blech.

"Professor Eppes, I need you to calm down. The situation is being dealt with."

Don spun, peering through the crowd until his eyes came to rest upon the arguing duo; a knot of fear settled in his stomach as he recognized the victim, leaning over the side of the gurney like an inexperienced sailor over the rail of a ship and performing much the same activity. Collecting himself, Charlie shrugged off the medic and hopped off the gurney, pulling on what was left of his shirt and stalking off in his direction. Don moved to intercept him, catching Charlie's shoulder to prevent him from leaving, an action that earned him a wince from Charlie.

"Don?" he said; there was a dazed look in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Larry called me. Listen, buddy, you look awful. What happened here?"

Charlie cocked his head to the side. "Larry," he said softly. "Yes, I remember pushing him out of the way; but each action has an equal and opposite reaction, so it pushed me back, towards…"

Waving away the gibberish, Don shook him a little, protracting another puzzling cringe from Charlie. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

The medic seemed convinced that his patient wasn't going anywhere. Approaching the two, he peeled Charlie's shirt off his back to reveal his right side, and Don almost lost it; the area from his hip all the way to his shoulder was a red so dark it was painful to look at, in addition to a scattering of minor scrapes and bruises, supposedly from shrapnel.

"Too close," Charlie replied lamely.

"They're all minor," the medic assured him, apparently sensing the way his stomach had twisted. "He should go to L.A. General to get checked out, but he'll be alright."

"All right, thanks," Don said, and the medic moved off to attend to other victims. Don turned back to Charlie. "I want you to go with these guys; they'll take you to the hospital. I'll have Dad bring you home. "

Charlie wasn't paying attention; his gaze rested on the remains of the fountain and its unfortunate occupants. His voice was distant.

"What…" he started, then trailed off. "Who would do this?"

Unable to stomach what Charlie seemed so intent upon observing, he averted his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know, buddy, but I promise you, we're gonna find out."

Just then, David emerged from the crowd, tapping Don on the shoulder. "Hey, Don."

He turned to face him. "Hey. What have you got?"

David sighed. "There weren't that many eyewitnesses who… who survived the blast, but from what I can gather, the fountain just – blew. The bomb squad guys found the remnants of what they think set it off, but they have no clue what it is; it's definitely not anything conventional. I had it sent to the tech guys – maybe they can figure it out."

Don nodded slowly. "How many people…?"

"Twelve students dead, eight more on their way to L.A. General, two of them critical. And then there's Charlie."

A shiver ran through the mathematician at his name. His critical eyes dissected the smoking wreckage, each piece of rubble and charred cadaver coming to life in his mind, all measurements and equations, until he found the event playing over and over in his head, a live-action film complete with grid lines, coordinates, and algorithms. His brain even supplied him with the equation with which to extrapolate the artistic spray of blood on the pavement, a sight that still remained long after the ambulance doors shut behind him.