Title: Only One
Disclaimers: Sadly, Numb3rs is not my property nor will it ever be.
Summary: Don has car troubles and Charlie comes to pick him up: a seemingly normal situation. Until a criminal Don and his team thought they put behind bars seeks revenge by playing dirty. 'How much damage could one do?' CWDA.
Warnings: Mild language and violence.
Ian Edgerton took one more walk around the smashed up Prius. To an amateur's eye, the car had merely been a victim of a wreck. To an expert's, to Ian's, eyes, it was obvious that something far more sinister had taken place. After practically searching every inch of the car, Ian had finally found the jackpot of jackpots lying on the floor of the backseat.
A hair.
And a blond one to boot.
Unless Charlie had happened to drive a blond around lately, Ian was sure the owner was someone who had kidnapped Charlie. Right now the hair was being processed by forensics, but it could be a while before any results made their way back to him.
Ian sighed and shook his head dejectedly. He felt useless here, there wasn't much his expertise or skills could do to help get Charlie back any faster. He had to do what he could though. And right now, maybe that meant looking around in a car.
Ian exited the room. After finding Charlie's car, Don ordered it to be towed to an FBI garage. What Ian didn't understand was how Don's boss, Merrick, was allowing him to do any of this. Better not to delve into others' business though, so he never really asked Don. Ian made his way to the main FBI building and entered an elevator.
He waited patiently as the elevator seemed to take eons to reach Don's floor. Finally, the doors slid open and Ian entered the bullpen.
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Alan stood in the kitchen, preparing a feast worthy of kings. He juggled the pan containing steamed potatoes and the stew brewing on the stove top. He always cooked when he was agitated.
Even Margaret had said that it was a nervous habit of his. And right now, this situation definitely merited nervousness, panicking, even a mental meltdown.
Charlie is missing. It seemed so strange to even think it. Alan had always thought that it would be Don, the FBI agent, the reckless one, to be in a situation like this. He had always pictured Don being kidnapped or shot in the line of duty, or something even worse. But Charlie? Sweet, poor little Charlie? His youngest who was only a math professor who lived to teach, learned for math. Charlie who couldn't function without the constant stream of numbers running through his head, Charlie who had done calculus at age eight. Charlie...
It wasn't fair. Alan slammed a spoon into a pan and began stirring boiling carrots.
It's not fair. Charlie had done nothing wrong. He hadn't asked for this.
And neither had Alan. As the steam rose up into his face, Alan tried to melt the troubles and fear away, but a terrible feeling kept creeping its way into his heart.
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Charlie had by now began to expect what every day in his Hell would bring him. Twice a day his captors led him to another room blindfolded. Once there, they untied him and took the fabric off of his eyes and let him do his business. Then it was back to his 'cell' where he would live in perpetual darkness and fear. They would do something new to him every time he surfaced to consciousness. Beatings, whippings, electrocutions, strange drugs. There was no end to the pain.
Charlie flexed his arms weakly where they were hanging above his head. His shoulders were on fire with the constant strain from being forced into the painful position all the time. He could tell that the whip wounds were healing; there were scabs covering his pale body now. His broken ribs, though, were another story. Every move jostled the bones and caused an unbearable to surge through Charlie's chest. There was just no end to the pain barraging his weak body. The blindfold hadn't been removed since he had first glimpsed Adam's terrifyingly cheerful face. He had lived in the constant darkness since then. Time had lost all its meaning to him; something that Larry had often stressed, that time was relative. Of course, Charlie being the mathematician, thought the other way, that time was set. He didn't realize how relative time was until he had no way to gauge it. Everything stretched out into obscenely long moments. He was always either awake in pain or sleeping and having garish nightmares of pain. Either way, living was only a torment that Adam provided.
How Charlie wished that his dear brother would just find him.
Don, please. Wherever you are, please, please help me. Charlie thought desperately, knowing wishful thinking would get him no further and not relieve the relentless pain. Wishing would not stop Adam from continuing with his sick game, it would not stop Charlie's body from being assaulted with new tortures every time he regained consciousness. Nothing could help him now, not even his big brother who had sworn to always look after him. There was nothing Charlie could do. For once his genius failed him. He could find no way out of the hole Adam had dug him. There was no escape from the pain, from Adam, from Chance and Anthony, from the torture.
Charlie's stomach grumbled, but that was by far the least of his concerns at the moment. How could he think about something as trivial as hunger when his whole body was being wracked with spasms of lashing pain? Charlie shivered in the cold, pungent air. He could smell just fine, and he smelled the distinct coppery scent of blood.
Again, Charlie shivered, but this time it was not form the cold.
That smell of blood.
It was his blood.
God, it was his blood. He was going to die here. Just then it hit Charlie like a ton of bricks. I'm going to die here, he thought dejectedly. He really was. It seemed like the life source of his hope had been slowly dwindling over the past... days, hours, minutes he had been kidnapped. He had stayed strong in the beginning, believing he had it in him to survive, to fight against the assaults. He stayed strong, for his survival, for Don. He had acted as Don would have. He had not admitted defeat.
The problem, though, was that Charlie was the farthest thing from the brother.
He was not strong. He could not hold up against the torture. He could not stay strong. It wasn't in his nature to be the reliable, sturdy-as-a-rock type. That was Don. Charlie was the mathematician, the crazy savant who only knew numbers, not life or death situations.
What did Adam even want? He had said he wanted Charlie to tell Don to make the trade. But Charlie could not do that. He knew that wherever Don was, if he knew about Charlie's situation, he would be disappointed in the younger brother. He would know that Charlie was weak, that he could not withstand the simple hurts of a delusional psychopath willing to do anything for his brother... Don would know that Charlie was not reliable, that he was a disgusting human who was too weak for Don to even be ashamed of him. He was lower than dirt, Charlie knew. So, the least he could do was try and prove to Don that he wasn't as terribly weak as it appeared. He would not, would not let that monster Richard Doyle out on the streets to rape and murder some innocent girl again. It was all he could do, all he could prove to Don that Charlie was indeed not as worthless as he seemed. He had to stay strong, even if he couldn't in the sense of the physical torture.
Interrupting his thoughts, the door swung open, squeaking on its hinges. Charlie cringed in fear. He had by now figured out the method of these cruel kidnappers. It was all pain, pain, pain. He didn't mean to pull back in fear, shrink into himself, trying to hide from them, it was a natural instinct.
Charlie heard a soft laugh and knew at that instant that Adam had entered. After hearing two more pairs of footsteps, Charlie knew that Adam was accompanied by Chance and Anthony. There was no way to prepare himself for the pain. Charlie could only take it as it came... Not that he really could take it anyway, but he had to try, try to prove that he was strong.
'Good morning, Dr. Eppes.' Adam called in his genial, disturbing voice. 'Glad to see that you're awake.'
Charlie heard approaching footsteps and pulled away as much as he could.
'Tsk, tsk, professor,' Charlie could hear the smile on Adam's face, he could see the smile in his mind. 'You seem a little too comfortable. Perhaps we should... try another experiment? Yes, that sounds like a good idea.'
Oh God.
Charlie's mind bounced back and forth between every terrible possibility of this 'experiment'. Before he could dwell any longer, though, Chance or Anthony, Charlie thought it was Chance by the lighter grip, lifted him down from the cruel hook.
Please, please, no. Charlie pleaded with no one in particular. He had never really been into any religion at all, but found himself praying.
God, please help me to stay strong. Please keep me strong, Lord. Keep me strong for Donnie. Please, Lord, let him Don find me, let him save me. Please Lord, deal with me as you see fit. Just please help me to stay strong through whatever they do...
Once again, Charlie felt the cool metallic table beneath him. He tried to fight back with what little strength he had, but his holder controlled him with little effort. Again he was strapped to the table like an animal. Something poked his right arm and Charlie felt a welcoming warmth spread almost immediately through his body. The pain assuaging his body seemed to cease. He felt at peace as he could finally focus on something other than the mind-numbing pain.
'Alright, Charles, time to test your brain capabilities again. This won't hurt.' Adam said lightly as Charlie could only imagine what was going on around him. He felt helpless as a needle was pricked into the crook of his left arm. He groaned as something was injected into his bloodstream. Charlie feared what had been put into his body. He had no idea what it was or what the effects would take on him. Charlie waited in agonizing terror for the drug to take effect.
'It should start kicking in around now.' Adam said matter-of-factly. Right on cue, Charlie felt his world go topsy-turvy.
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Larry sat down wearily in his chair. He had just finished teaching Charlie's freshman 101 class. Unfortunately, that was about all he was capable of teaching. The rest went to Amita and the substitute professor. Larry slowly ran his hands down his face.
There was no way this could really be happening. Charles? Of all the people, why Charles? He was the most tenured, the most deserving professor on campus and most of all he was the best friend of Larry. Amita was close to him, but Larry had known Charlie since that fateful day at Princeton. Such memories they shared.
And there will be more, Lawrence. Larry chided. Charlie would get out of this fine.
Whatever 'this' was. Megan was of no help in the subject; she would not say anything to Larry about what they had turned up. Either that was because they hadn't turned up anything, or... what they had discovered was too disturbing. Larry fervently hoped it was the former and not the latter. He wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to his beloved friend. There was so much past between the physics professor and the applied mathematics professor. And there would be so much more in their future if Larry had anything to say about it.
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Don looked up from where he heard the elevator ding. Ian Edgerton walked hesitantly over to the area where Don's FBI team resided. Don didn't like the look on Ian's face.
'What is it? Did you turn something up?' Don asked, and the rest of his team looked up expectantly, save for Megan, who was out.
'I found a hair.' Ian said simply.
Don prodded. 'Ya, alright, it wasn't Charlie's I'm assuming.'
'No, it wasn't. I sent it to forensics to check out, see if they have anything in their database. The results aren't back yet, they probably won't be for a little bit.' Ian answered.
Don leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was getting no headway on this case. Sure, Doyle had spilled the beans on his psychopath brother, but that didn't help them figure out where Charlie could be. Not to mention the information on Adam Doyle was just a bit disconcerting.
And by a bit, Don meant a hell of a lot.
The guy was a class-A screwup, the classic image of psychopath. After hearing what Colby and Megan had discovered about his dissertation, Don had rushed to the restroom and turned up what little food he had ingested in the past few days.
It had been more than a few days by now. Four days and two hours since Don had last heard anything from his brother personally. He was starting to get sick with worry. At first, Don had convinced himself that Charlie was missing and that was it. His brother had just lost track of time like always, or forgot to tell Alan that he was leaving for a consultation. But after finding the car, speaking to Doyle, and discovering the disturbing past of Adam, there was no doubt in his mind that something far more sinister had happened to his brother.
What he didn't know was where Charlie could possibly be. He only knew that his little brother was in some deep shit, and Don was only one who could save him from... the worst.
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Being sick was not something new to Charlie. Everyone got sick at random points in their life. Especially during the flu season when all his students were passing around germs like notes during Charlie's freshman 101 class. He had been sick before, he had thrown up what seemed like his whole insides before, felt like he was going to die, been feverish, he had had the cold, the flu, and something that didn't really have name once. He had had hangovers before. He had felt the pounding relentless throbbing in his head, the naseau and blinding lights, he had felt like shit before.
But he had never felt like he did now.
Every fiber in Charlie's being screamed that something was wrong, desperately, desperately wrong. Something had been screwed up inside him, something had pushed the wrong button. Oh God something had wrenched his stomach straight through his mouth.
Charlie was helpless as wave after dizzying wave disoriented him to the maximum. His body felt weird, there was no other way to describe it. So incredibly weird. And wrong. He felt like his body was floating over an endless ocean. No, maybe he was floating on the ocean. He couldn't really tell. Either way, it was like an out-of-body experience, except he was still in his body. He had trouble putting thoughts together. He couldn't remember, why, why he felt like he did. There was a reason. What was he really doing floating in the ocean anyway? Why couldn't he see? There had to be some... answers? Was that the word? Slowly he felt some pressure released from his body.
'Charles,' he heard a wavery voice say. Charles? Oh, that was his name wasn't it? It was, right? 'I've released the restraints, can you stand up for me?'
'Sssure,' Charlie slurred, not really sure who he was responding to. He tried to sit up like the voice had told him, but the signals in his minds weren't communicating to his muscles. Move. He commanded himself, but all the commands were mixed up and the green light in his mind must have appeared red to his muscles. With a suprreme will, he managed to lift himself up and sit wobbily on the ocean.
What was he doing, again?
Oh, yeah, standing up.
He tried to swing his legs over the side of the ocean, but somehow managed to stumble. Why wouldn't his body parts move like he told them? His leg twitched and stumbled on its way. Once his legs were waiting, he told himself to stand up on the ocean. Wait, Charlie thought, some of his sense returning. I'm not on the ocean. Adam, he asked me to stand up. I have to stand up, he though irrationally. He let his legs fall to the floor, but found that apparently the rest of his body wasn't ready for that yet. His legs refused to hold his body weight up and he flopped uselessly to the floor. His body was not obeying his brain's commands. He felt his whole body shaking with harrowing tremors. His head throbbed painfully as his stomach flipped itself over. He felt sick as a dog, and he could barely put thoughts in his head with the insane drumming of pain going on there. Before he knew what was going on, he felt his stomach squeeze up into his throat and it was there he proceeded to spew it out. He felt it coming out, light as a liquid.
I can't live without my stomach! Oh God, no! Charlie though, panicked. He fumbled with his hands and found the edge of the table. He held onto it with a death grip and tried to lift himself up. He could barely control his actions as he stumbled again to the floor in a heap. He felt like the ocean, or the floor, or whatever beneath him was rolling around and around and he couldn't find a spot to balance his unsturdy body on.
'Can you tell me,' came Adam's amused voice. 'What your name is?'
Charlie only assumed that the man was speaking to him. That man is Adam, Charlie tried to tell himself, but his sluggish brain did not comprehend the thought.
'I... I don't know,' Charlie said slowly, as if learning to speak for the first time. It felt like his tongue had gotten tangled up in his throat.
'Interesting...' Adam said, distracted. 'Can you tell me how you feel?'
Charlie groaned as a wave of mind-staggering dizziness washed over him. 'Siiick...' Charlie spat out. He moaned again as he fought to bring his slow mind to reality.
'Do you know who I am?' Adam questioned.
Charlie couldn't focus. What did that man just ask again?
'Ripley's... Believe It Or... Not.' Was all Charlie said, speaking like a drunk. 'Ahab.'
'That's very interesting, Dr. Eppes.' Adam noted, while unseen to Charlie he was jotting away on a clipboard. 'Well, I think I've seen enough here. Chance, Anthony, Charles' wounds seem to be healing quite nicely. Do something to fix that.'
Charlie heard a lound slam and felt two rough pairs of hands grasp him on either side.
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A/N: Okay, okay, I know I deserve it. I'm sorry it's been like 2 weeks since the last post. Give me a chance to explain. I got sick, had some really bad adverse reactions to a new prescription, and now I have finals. Okay, maybe they're not excuses, but they're certainly reasons... or is the other way around?
Anyway, I apologize for the delay, I plan on posting more regularly again. What do you think? Oh, poor, poor Charlie, I wish it wasn't, but this is only the beginning. Please leave comments, it helps me get the deadlines done and helps me know what I need to do or not do. Thanks again for reading and keeping up even though I am a supreme slacker.
