Title: The Fury of the Wind
Author: Windimere Wellen
Part: 2 of ?
Disclaimer: Numb3rs doesn't belong to me. Please no flames, this is my first go at Numb3rs and I'm not good at math!
Notes: Thanks for all of your reviews! I'm hoping you like this chapter as much as the first one. Let me know!
Lady Winter
Charlie jerked in Skellet's grasp, hardly noticing the gun pressing into his ribs as he watched Don fall to the floor. He imagined he heard a sickening thump when Don's head bounced off the marble. For a moment, he forgot to breathe then his mind kicked in, his brain calculating that the force of the fall was not enough to break Don's skull. It also reminded him that Don was wearing his flak jacket.
"Don!" Charlie realized he was still screaming his brother's name and slowly he forced himself to stop, straining to see exactly where the bullet had gone.
"Charlie! Charlie!" he realized that Megan was calling his name and he forced his gaze from Don's still form to Megan. "He's fine," she told him when she realized she had his gaze. Charlie didn't respond, and swung his eyes back towards Don, only to find the woman in the blue business suite bending over his inert brother.
She was laughing. "Agent Eppes was a good little FBI agent. He was wearing his vest." She had one finger hooked through the hole in Don's jacket and she laughed again, something that sounded strange in regard to her cold demeanor.
Charlie felt a chill sensation slide down his spine as he watched her unzip Don's jacket. She turned Don on his side to pull it off, and it took a good two minutes before she had him free of it, leaving the unconscious FBI agent in his flak vest and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The jacket lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. She pressed gently at the hole in the fabric over the Kevlar vest, just over one of the ribs that had been broken.
"Cuff him to that pole," she said casually, standing gracefully and stepping away from Don, motioning to one of the stainless steel poles a few feet from where Megan was. Charlie thought Megan looked like she might kill whoever she could get her hands on first.
The first security guard, the one with darker hair, was still holding his hand which Don had effectively broken. He didn't move to help his companion, the shorter guard with nearly blond hair, as he dragged Don over to the pole. With no gentleness whatsoever, he pulled Don's arms around his back, around the pole, where he used Don's own handcuffs to tightly cuff the agent's hands. He gave them an extra squeeze, relishing the idea that it would later give Don pain.
Charlie watched, trying to swallow his fear, but he couldn't. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was simply supposed to be consulting on one of Don's cases. He was supposed to confirm Don's fear that this was an inside job. The bank manager was supposed to thank them, and the FBI was supposed to pat him on the back and Don was supposed to arrest the bad guys and they should be headed home to put up their feet, have dinner with their father, and maybe catch the end of whatever baseball game was on ESPN.
Instead, Charlie had been thrust in to a nightmare. The gun digging into his ribs reminded him that he should be paying more attention, but it was hard to take his eyes off Don, whose chin was now resting on his chest. Why had Don lost consciousness? Had Charlie really heard that man break Don's ribs?
Charlie briefly tried to quantify an answer, but was jerked back to reality as Megan began to struggle. Her captor was physically dragging her over to a pole opposite of Don's, nearly fifteen feet apart. Charlie momentarily started to figure out the exact distance by using simple math, but stopped short when she too was handcuffed to the pole with her own cuffs. That simply left him as the only one free and he realized suddenly that it was quite possible he was expendable.
It was also quite possible these people were simply after Don and the FBI. But the possibility of both of those options were slim. Charlie knew with a sinking feeling that this wasn't about Don or the FBI.
"Dr. Eppes, are you still with me?" Skellet asked slowly, and for the first time, Charlie realized he sounded worried. No wonder, because Charlie had simply frozen in his spot when Skellet wouldn't let him around the computer station to get to Don. Wide brown eyes swept back and forth between Don, who was still unconscious, and Megan who was trying to wordlessly communicate to Charlie not to panic. "Dr. Eppes?" Skellet tried again.
The woman was watching him, and then she strode forward, her heels clicking on the floor as the man that had been posing as her bank agent appeared from one of the back rooms, carrying a roll of duct tape, which he handed to the man who Charlie dubbed as "Suit." "Suit" took the tape and unceremoniously ripped off a piece and pressed it against Megan's mouth to keep her quiet.
"Don't," Charlie said suddenly, and the woman laughed, a cruel sound, just like before when she'd been leaning over Don. Leaning over his unconscious big brother.
"Don't do what? Come any closer? Or keep your pretty agent friend quiet?"
"Don't touch her again," he snapped, surprised at how much he sounded like Don.
"That's all going to depend on you Dr. Eppes."
Charlie watched her carefully as she said this and he knew what she wanted. She wanted him to do what Skellet had not been able to – break the final encryption – get past the well formed algorithms to release the information that she wanted to steal.
He opened his mouth to respond to her, but didn't get the chance because her attention was drawn by Don's soft groan. Charlie's heart beat against his chest when he realized Don was coming around. Slowly, and apparently with great effort, Don lifted his head off of his chest, and shook his head a little, trying to clear his vision.
"Don!" Charlie called, hurriedly, and winced when Skellet pulled back again on his arm, where he had a vice like grip. Don was blinking furiously, trying to get a hold of himself, but apparently Charlie's voice grounded him because Don forced his head up fully and met his brother's frightened gaze.
"M…. M'okay, Charlie," he managed, but his voice sounded rough. The woman made her way over to Don, where she crouched in front of the FBI agent. Don stared back at her defiantly and Charlie wished he looked as unfazed as his brother did.
"I'm glad you're awake Agent Eppes. I want you to hear this as well," she said, and though she didn't move, she turned her gaze back to Charlie. Charlie almost missed it because he was caught up watching Don test the fact that he was cuffed, muscles flexing under the soft fabric of his shirt. Charlie didn't miss his brother wince, and he didn't miss the rapid rise and fall of Don's chest – his brother was having a hard time breathing, his respiration increased because of the shorter breaths he was taking.
"You want me to finish what you started," Charlie said slowly, feeling like he was already doing her dirty work.
"Yes, that's exactly right. I need someone with more knowledge about these encrypted systems. An FBI consultant was guaranteed to get the job done, though I'm impressed at how easy this has become. You've done all the hard work for me all ready."
"What kind of hard work?" Charlie asked, confused, but he could see the rising panic in Don's eyes, something only he would recognize and he knew that Don had already figured out what she was talking about. But for all of his genius, Charlie was still in the dark.
"The leverage," she said, then turned back to Don, tracing one thin, pale finger from Don's hairline, down his jaw, under his chin, until it came to rest in the hollow of his throat. Charlie felt his world spin for a moment and thought for sure he was going to throw up.
It only took that one instant to know what she meant. It only took that one instant to suddenly understand why Don had argued with him so often about what cases he didn't want Charlie involved in. Why Don hadn't wanted Charlie in danger. Why Don hadn't wanted Charlie to be used against him.
Now the tables were turned. Now Don was going to be used against him.
"No Charlie," Don was already saying, shaking his head, trying to make her move her finger. "Don't you dare." His tone was angry, but Charlie knew that Don wasn't angry at him. He recognized Don's tones of voice better than anyone except his father. Don wasn't angry at him. Don wasn't even angry at the woman who was still touching his skin. He was angry at himself for letting this happen, and that made Charlie angry.
Charlie opened his mouth to respond, but was again cut off. Not by Don this time, but by the ringing of Don's cell phone, which lit up the dark shadows under the desk where it had slid during the fight.
The woman frowned and Don smiled. Skellet pulled Charlie back a few inches, and the man that had brought "Suit" the duct tape moved to retrieve the black phone from under the desk.
"He had his hand in his pocket earlier," 'Broken Hand' said in irritation, and comprehension flashed across the woman's face, and she turned suddenly and struck Don across the face, drawing blood as her ring raked his left cheek. It was clear she was replaying the fight in her mind and Charlie was too, remembering the gun in his face and his brother yelling the address of their location, seemingly into thin air. The smile never left Don's face and Charlie shivered a little. That part of the altercation had obviously been forgotten until now.
"Who did you call?" she demanded, pushing back a stray strand of blond hair that had escaped her tight, low pony tail.
"The FBI knows we're in trouble," he told her simply. It was only seconds after the words had left Don's mouth that the identical trill of another cell phone filled the air. The source was the phone in the pocket of the tan jacket Megan wore over her green sweater.
She and Don made eye contact and Don smiled just a little at her. The woman was on her feet now and she searched through Megan's pockets until she found the one that held the phone. She compared the two numbers and then hurled both phones at the far wall. Megan's spiraled into a group of plants that adorned the wall near the windows and Don's shattered into pieces as it struck austere concrete.
"We'll have to up our time table," she said slowly, regaining her composure, speaking mostly to Skellet. He nodded and shoved Charlie towards the computer again.
"Finish breaking the algorithm," he demanded. Charlie stared at him blankly, then looked to Don. Don was his rock – Don had always been there to help him do something he didn't want to do. And this, he didn't want to do. He didn't want to help
these criminals.
"You'll do it or I'll kill your brother Dr. Eppes," the woman said fiercely, glaring at Charlie.
"No Charlie, don't you dare help her." If the situation wasn't so dire, Charlie might have laughed. His brother was always arguing. Always.
"Shut up Agent Eppes, or I'll silence you," the woman promised him, then turned back to Charlie.
"Dr. Eppes," here she paused, her voice growing a little warmer. "Charlie, listen to me. You don't want to be responsible for your brother's death, do you? How will you explain to your parents that it was your fault your older brother is dead? He's your hero, right?" This took Charlie by surprise. It was true, but he'd certainly never said it out loud. Especially not to Don. "How can you be responsible for killing your own hero? I can see the way you look at him, he's your world, don't ruin that. If you do this, you'll both walk out of here alive."
"Charlie, do not listen to her. She's going to kill us anyway. You cannot let her get those files. You and I both know what she could do with them. You cannot do this. Are you listening to me? You can't."
"Shut up, Eppes," she nearly screamed, her blue eyes flashing dangerously, and Charlie wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He knew what Don was saying was true, but how could he let his brother die? "It's just a few files Charlie. We're just taking some money. That's all."
"Charlie, this is a matter of national security. You saw whose files and accounts were on those lists, you cannot do this!" Don insisted. The woman turned abruptly and Charlie flinched when the gun went off again.
Charlie was still staring at Don, who had closed his eyes when the gun went off. For a moment, Charlie simply thought Don was dead. He gaped at his brother and tried not to faint when Don's eyes came open slowly, pain glossing them over.
Swallowing hard, Charlie forced his eyes off of Don's face, trailing down over his neck and throat until the top of Don's vest was visible. There, near Don's upper left shoulder, the cloth was still smoking from the heat of the bullet, but it was safely nestled in the Kevlar over Don's heart. Vaguely, Charlie could hear Don gasping for breath.
"What's it going to be Charlie? The encryption? Or your brother's life?"
