I do not own any characters associated with the TV show Numb3rs. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! They recharge me when I think I'm too tired to write more!

A few notes on the Isabel thing: I know it's always a difficult thing with an original character, but I promise all will be revealed in time and you'll understand better why she does what she does.

And now for the real history!

-2002-

Isabel sat in the car, waiting. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He was now 15 minutes late. This just wasn't like him. She'd give him five more minutes.

Five more minutes came and went and Isabel got out of the car. She looked up at his building, as though waiting for some sign of life from his window, but there was nothing. She would just have to go up and get him, assuming he was even there.

Upstairs, she knocked on the door to his office, which was standing ajar. When he didn't answer immediately, she pushed it open the rest of the way. Charlie was sitting in a chair in front of his blackboard, staring at it but clearly not seeing it.

"Charlie?"

No response.

"Charlie!"

He blinked slowly and turned his head slightly in her direction, but made no other indication he'd even heard her.

Isabel closed the door behind her and crossed the room to Charlie. She knelt down in front of him so that her face was level with his.

"Charlie, what's wrong?"

He only shook his head, but made no eye contact. She brought her hand softly to the side of his face, turning his to hers. His eyes finally brought her face into focus, and he seemed to snap back to reality suddenly.

"Oh, I'm late, we…" He started to get up from the chair, but she pushed him right back into it.

"Charlie, tell me what's wrong." She knew whatever was going on in his personal life was none of her business, but there was no way she was going to let him work in the state he was in.

As they sat there still, just staring at each other, Isabel saw Charlie's eyes begin to fill with tears. He slowly closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. Isabel brought her right hand up to his cheek and moved her thumb back and forth across it. "Charlie, whatever it is, you can tell me. We're friends, right?"

He turned his head slightly, letting more of its weight rest on her palm, but said nothing. He didn't know what to say and he didn't trust his voice not to break even if he tried. Isabel slid her hand around to the back of his neck and applied light pressure at a specific point, knowing it would release some tension. She looked down and saw that his pant legs were dotted with spots from his tears.

"Oh, Charlie…" His shoulders began to heave and she pulled him into a hug. She had no idea what was going on, but she'd never seen him so upset. Holding him against her, she felt a knot in her throat.

His voice was barely more audible than a whisper. "My mom, she's sick."

Isabel pulled herself away from Charlie enough to be able to see his face. His eyes were red and he had a mark on his forehead from pressing it into her shoulder. "I take it we're not talking about the flu."

Charlie shook his head. "Cancer."

Although Charlie felt some relief at having told someone, he knew it didn't change anything. His mind had been a blur since that morning when he found out. He should have known that something was wrong when Don showed up unexpectedly, but nothing could have prepared him for what it was. His mother was so calm about it, the way she just held their father's hand and explained the whole situation so matter-of-factly. As always, Don had seemed to know just what to say and do while Charlie just sat there. They were supposed to all go out to lunch together, but he couldn't do it. He'd mumbled some excuse about a big project and left. He was a horrible son, and he knew it.

Isabel didn't know what to say. She knew better than to tell him that everything would be all right. Her own mother had died when she was young, and although that had involved very different circumstances, she'd never put any value in empty promises. She brushed Charlie's curls out of his face. He hardly even looked like the same man she'd worked with yesterday. Yesterday's Charlie was confident, even cocky, and pulsing with energy, but this one looked broken and tired. It broke her heart to see him that way.

When she thought about it later, Isabel was unable to explain why she did what she did next. It was so out of character for her that she could hardly believe she did it. Bringing her hands up to his face, she slid them back into his hair, bringing his face closer to hers. Charlie seemed to realize at the last second what she was doing, but didn't pull away. She kissed him softly at first, but as Charlie responded in kind, it quickly became more passionate.

When they finally paused to catch their breath, their chests were heaving.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me to stop."

"I can't."

This time it was Charlie who leaned in first for the kiss, and there was nothing soft or slow about it. Just a minute ago he had felt as though something inside of him were dead. Now it felt like every cell in his body was suddenly on fire. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be kissing her, but she had started it, and he had no intention of being the one to stop it.

Isabel felt that her heart was beating so fast it might explode. She had been trained to control everything about her body—the speed of a kick, the strength of a punch, her breath, her heart rate, everything. She didn't know if she just couldn't control it right then or if she simply didn't want to. At this rate, the situation would quickly get out of control. This hadn't been her intention…or had it? She tore her lips away from his, but still kept her face dangerously close.

"Charlie, wait. We can't do this."

The wounded look on his face made her realize what she'd just said and suddenly she found she didn't care about being in control. "Here. I mean, we can't do this here."

His expression softened and he nodded slightly.

"My car is parked outside. I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"I just want to go with you."

"Okay." She moved her face the two inches it took to re-establish contact and kissed him softly. She stood up and offered her hand to help him up. He took it, and pulled her in for another kiss before she could turn for the door.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was wrong. He wasn't thinking clearly right now and part of her felt like maybe she was taking advantage. Yet the greater part was screaming at her how right this felt. She just desperately wanted to take away the pain that he was in, even if it was just for a little while.

Isabel pulled Charlie's arms off her waist and took two steps backward to the door, still holding his hands. "Come on, my place is about five minutes from here."

Charlie nodded, and stepped in close to her.

Before he could kiss her again, she brought her fingertips to his lips to stop him. "Please, Charlie, just think about this for a minute. I know what I'm doing, but you're hardly thinking clearly right now. I don't want you to do something you'll regret when your mind clears."

Charlie brushed his lips against her fingers and closed his eyes. "I know I may not be doing this for the right reason right now, but there's no way I'll regret it."

And he didn't.