My Boys

A Numb3rs Fan Fiction One-shot

He was so young, yet so brilliant. I had watched him as he played with his blocks, making masterpieces of "architecture". I watched him more recently as he asked about math, about school, about life beyond our small little house, all the mysteries of it gone. It was but a simple structure of wood and stone to him now. Built in "irregular ratios" and "not to mathematician standards", according to him. Great – all I needed was a house that would collapse on me. If he could prove it with math, I believed him. The house held no magnificence any longer, like his toys did.

They had grown in past years from simplistic blocks to wonderful K'nex constructions that were too complex for me or Alan to figure out without large instruction booklets. Charlie did them all on his own, glancing at the picture on the cover once, maybe twice. Sometimes they came out like the pictures on the box – sometimes, there was a totally original Charlie K'nex creation spread wide across our living room floor. I wondered where his inspiration came from, where all those concepts went when he learned them. Teaching a four year old his numbers? Counting simply One – Two – Three… I think not. He was teaching me higher math. Well, annoying me, more like. Charlie isn't really known for immense patience. I can remember his little cute, slightly chubby face tugging on my pants, telling me something he had figured out about time.

"Do you get it Mom, do you, do you? I get it Mom!"

"Yes, I get it, Charlie."

"But Mom, Mom when you look at the clock and it – "

"Yes, Charlie, you've told me before! Now please, please, go play with Don, okay?"

"Yes, Mom."

I can't remember how old he was then… Seven, maybe eight? I really can't even try to think – the numbers are all swirling in my head. I wish I had spent more time with him. And now, I watch him so grown up. My little teenager, a fresh thirteen year old for almost over an hour. Don was in high school by that age, and had been just skittering around the edges of Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry, and the like. The proverbial tip of the iceberg. Charlie? I believe he's at the equivalent of "Advanced Mathematics His Mother and Other Normal Human Beings Just Can't Keep Up With". I watch him go over papers and his book, pouring over equations that could daunt even the bravest of mothers, and math professors. His pencil, recently sharpened, flits across the page, eyes quickly glancing up for a variable or two, mind whirring, planning out it's next move.

I leaned down to glance over his shoulder. His scribbles of numbers and variables, symbols and equations stretched half the page. He kept at it, glancing up to look at what he had already written in quick jerks of his head. Another glance was flung towards a packet of theorems, little examples, and notes; those of the tutor's and his own hand. His face was so close to the paper, eyes hopping back and forth. I still have doubts that the doctors were right, but seeing him sitting there, so determined… My boy? My Charlie?

Genius material?

I had yearned for another son after Don, another little boy who would fall off his bike and skin his knee, another little boy that I could play catch with. Another little boy to run and play and tug at me. Another little boy to flash a smile with those pearly whites and engrave another memory deep in my mind forever. And I did have one. But he was so different from what I imagined.

I had cast a shadow across his page, and he looked up from his chair, face scrunched up in concentration, eyes dilated and dark, deep in thought. A short mop of unruly dark chocolate brown, almost black, hair curled around his face, falling lightly across his brow. It would darken even more over time. I reached out and brushed a lock of it away, and he shook his head back and forth, and it fell right back into it's prior place.

"Mom, I'm trying to concentrate! This is really important. My tutor wants me to get it done by Thursday!"

I smiled slowly at his statement. "Honey, it's Monday. You have plenty of time to –"

"No, I have to do it now! While I have it in my head! I'm going to loose it if I don't!" His face was now etched with irritation, his eyes growing ever darker. Orbs of ever growing darkness and knowledge.

"Oh… oh, alright dear. Well, would you like something to eat, maybe? There's cake left over from earlier. It is your birthday, you know." I was quiet, slow. He was getting more aggravated when people bothered him while he worked.

He wasn't used to being wrong, or getting lost, in a problem, not my Charlie. The latest tutor was trying to get him to calm down a bit, think a bit more, consider more options before jumping ahead. He had an issue of jotting down everything that came to mind, all at once, all in one go, and if he didn't, he 'lost it' or the answer was 'gone'. At least, that's how it was told to me. In simplistic Layman's terms. But I couldn't break off my relationship with my son while I waited for this change to happen. I was still his mother. I had to keep the connection with my son. My sons. Both of them, no matter how hard it might seem. I wasn't going to loose that, not ever.

"No! I – I just need it to be quiet. I need to – to be left alone." His words were getting more jerky, more stressed. He acted very high strung sometimes. His dark eyes glittered with a sheen of unshed tears, swirling with pure knowledge and sprinkled with a bit of uncertainty. I knew how hard it would be for him – my boys both graduating the same year. It wasn't easy on anyone, but it was a particularly difficult situation for Charlie. He didn't choose this path, it chose him. I was glad he had stuck fast to it, not letting it overpower him. At least, not yet.

"Alright. I'll go then." I walked out, only slightly hurt. But I knew this was how it would be for a while. Probably for a long while.

Don was walking in from the backyard; my stronger, tougher boy. A 'strapping young man' of eighteen, as Alan had put it. He was sweaty from playing football with the neighborhood kids. Charlie was never interested in playing rough like that. He was good at basketball, but playing with large groups was a bit daunting to him. He usually stayed in the driveway and competed with Don and Alan.

The contrast of their personalities was blinding.

Don reached inside the fridge, for the milk carton. He popped the top open and pulled it up towards his lips, tipping it upwards when he noticed me out of the corner of his eye. He let the carton down, putting it on the counter.

"Uh… I was just smelling it. Making sure it was still good. Bad milk is never, erm… When it's um… bad, it's not good…?" He finished his excuse quite badly.

"Yeah, yeah mister. You'd better not let me catch you at that again. You're as bad as your father."

"One must learn from the best!" A winning smile broke out. Both of my boys had them. Each of them so beautiful.

"Just get a glass and stop your sass, young man." I joked with him, trying to keep a serious face. The sharp order of my little rhyme and burning glare were not lost on him. He jumped in on our quickly made-up game.

"Yes ma'am!" He rejoined, standing straight up, saluting me. His face was more serious than mine, but I could catch the subtleties of a smile underneath the hard gaze and stout face. My little soldier…

"Think fast, Don!" I had grabbed a cup and tossed it at him, while he stood there, unmoving and as stolid as stone. His eyes again caught the small motion, and he reacted quickly, lunging out for it. His hands only batted it away, however, and the plastic clattered across the kitchens' wood floor. So much for all that baseball talent. Thank heaven it wasn't a glass cup.

"Need to work on that hand-eye coordination some more, don't you?"

He snorted with laughter and nodded his head. "I guess so Mom. Or maybe crazy old ladies shouldn't throw cups at their poor sons so often." He grinned, seeing if he could get away with his comment.

"Now, come on Don. Everyone knows I'm crazy. I had you!"

"Alright, alright, I give up!" He poured a large glass of the milk, put the rest of the carton back, and headed for the table out in the informal dining room. However, I suddenly became serious – for real – and held him back.

"No, Charlie is working in there. Just, just drink your milk in here, okay? Then maybe go upstairs or back outside. Okay?"

Don scuffed his tennis shoes across the floor, looking right at me, yet at the same time, past me. He had grown so much in the past year. He was taller than me, now, by at least a few inches. My little boy – a teenager. Driving a car. Almost legal. Did time just fly right out the window?

"Fine. Just – fine..." Don muttered to me. He gulped down the milk, chugging it as quickly as he could. I was afraid he was going to choke. He tossed the empty glass into the sink, heading upstairs, not stopping it from clattering. "I've got my own homework anyways…" I heard him grumble as his steps led him to his room. A door shut, rather louder than usual, soon afterwards.

"Mom!" Charlie whined from the table.

"Don't worry, Char, he's just going to do his homework. Don won't make much more noise." I said that last bit loudly, hoping Don would hear it and take it to heart.

No such luck. He might have heard it, but there was little he didn't do to not make as much noise and bother as possible. Drawers slammed next and a backpack was tossed upon the floor, right above the kitchen. Angry steps swept back and forth across the ceiling. The lights shook a bit. My boys. So dramatic. So much rivalry.

"Give me a minute, Charlie, I'll calm him down."

"I'm sorry Mom… I just have to get this done."

"Don't worry honey, there is no reason to be sorry."

I made my way up the stairs.

"Donald Eppes!" I said sharply. This time, my seriousness was no mask. This time, there was no game. "You are being irrationally immature and disturbing your brother. Any specific reason why?"

He looked at me again, as he had done but moments before. Right at me, yet simultaneously beyond. "Because… he's so – so – ."

He broke off abruptly, changing his gaze from me to the window, scuffling over to it and staring at the kids playing down the street. They were now playing a rousing game of what I have only ever referred to as "Tackle" though I believe the official name is "British Bulldog" or some such nonsense. I read the look on his face plainly. It cried out piteously: Geeze, I wish I had stayed outside. I could have gotten a drink from the hose, it's definitely cold enough.

"Because why again? I didn't quite catch that, mister." I verbally prodded him.

"Oh stop, Mom! Really, I'm not thirteen!" He complained aloud.

"Yes, but guess who in this house is?" I said, exasperated.

"Do I get three chances?" There was a definite bite in his words, a hurt look in his eyes.

Oh, touché, my boy, touché. Hurt your mother's heart.

"I should hardly think so." My reply was short.

"Hm… Let me think nice and hard on this one… Oh! Could it be? Yes, it is Cheeky-Mouth Charlie! The one everyone complies to. The one everyone bends to. Just because he's so damned smart!"

"Don! Don't you dare use that sort of language in this house, especially when you're talking about your brother!" I flared out, very upset he would say such things. "I thought I had raised a better boy than that!"

"Mom! I'm not a boy anymore, okay? Don't treat me like I am! I'm nearly eighteen years old, and Charlie is such a pain! Try throwing a pitch out on the field with all these screaming people, and all you can hear is your genius brother shouting 'That angle is all wrong, Don! Better try and throw a curve ball, Don! It's statistically improbable he'd hit that ball, Don! Come on, Don, look at the math!'"

"Try doing your homework and all you hear is 'Don, you might want to check that answer again. Don, I don't think that's what the teacher wants. Don, just admit that you're stupider than me. C'mon, Don, you know it, I'm smarter and you're just a idiotic lump!' " He mocked the words, stressing them, making them sound like the words of a whiny kindergartener.

"Oh, Don, that isn't anything that Charlie thinks! He looks up to you, he admires you!" I beseeched Don, I wanted him to understand.

"Yeah, well, if that's what he thinks, then why is he always hanging around me and bothering me while I'm with my friends all the time?" Don complained.

"Charlie just wants to fit in! He doesn't want to only be known as 'That smart kid'."

"But what am I now, Mom! I'm just Charlie's older brother, the smart kid's family, the Eppes' older son. I don't have any standing anymore. I'm just off to the side."

"Oh don't go and be like that, Donnie! You know as well as the rest of us that you are your own person, with your own identity. You are Donald Eppes, my son. Just like Charles Eppes is. There isn't any greater quality in either of you. And you know why? Because the things you do are different, but they both mean the same exact thing to me. And I love you exactly the same amount, and that amount is all of my heart, and all of my soul, and all of the stars in the sky, as far as the universe stretches, times infinity." I embraced my son, my boy.

"You know, Mom, it's impossible to calculate something like that…" I looked up from hugging Don, surprised. He hadn't spoken, but looked at the door, which swung open, creaking to a stop and revealing my Charlie.

"I know it's impossible, but you're sure that you love me that much too?" He asked, quietly. His shaggy hair was falling even more into his face than before, but I noted the softly red-rimmed eyes. He had been crying slightly. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been listening the whole time I had been talking to Don.

"Yes, I'm 100 percent sure, Charlie. I love you with all of my heart, and all of my soul, and all the stars in the sky, and as far as the universe stretches, times infinity." I said, laughing. He sniffled a bit and stepped in the room, breaking a smile.

"I'm sorry." Charlie said, looking at Don. Don just shuffled his feet. It was beginning to be a bad habit when he wanted to avoid an issue.

"'Bout what?" He said, grudgingly.

"That I embarrass you, and that you feel bad and left out, and that I'm so … smart." He said the last part in a whisper. "I'll try and stop."

"You can't stop being smart, genius!" Don said, leaping on Charlie, tackling him to the floor and laughing as Charlie shrieked like a banshee as he was given a sharp rap on the head. I believe Charlie called in a … noogie? Heaven only knows… At least some of the tension was gone.

"Yes, I can, dog breath!" Charlie shouted back, as Don blew a mouthful of air right in his face, making Charlie cringe from the odor. He than ran out the door. Don was right on his tail, thundering down the hallway, rattling pictures on the walls, and storming down the stairs. I watched as they made their way out front from the window.

Let me correct myself. All tension was now officially gone. Don overtook Charlie on the steps, and I watched in slight horror as they tumbled across the lawn, but took a sigh of relief when I realized they were both okay. I saw their bright smiles all the way from the second floor, and turned from the room, also disappearing down the hallway and making my way down the stairs, slightly more gracefully than the pair had earlier.

Walking out the front door, their fun had progressed to play punches and more tackling. Charlie didn't stand much of a chance, that much I was sure of, but I did like to see that he was trying his hardest. They both gave everything their all.

Finally, they grew tired and flopped down on the grass, cool from the fresh breezes that had come in from the North a few days ago. Winter was finally giving way to Spring. Dead leaves and pine needles were blowing away and fresh blooms and growth were beginning to make their way to the limelight. Both Don and Charlie were laughing, chests rising and falling in an identical rhythmic pattern. I came down, smiling gaily, and laid down next to them.

"Now, what's this about being able to stop being smart, Mister?" I directed my question at Charlie, looking at him sideways as we lay in a circle, heads together, staring at the sky. He looked up again, considering his answer. Don remained silent, evidently wanting to hear what Charlie had to say.

"I stopped working on my problem, so I could spend time with Don, and try not to be annoying. I don't care that I lost it." He kept gazing straight upwards, probing the sky with his piercing stare.

"Oh, honey, you lost it?" I said, sympathetically. I knew he hated when he did.

"But Mom, it's okay because I've figured a really big problem out."

"What problem?" Don interrupted.

"It doesn't matter if I can't do a problem all at once, because even if I loose it, that doesn't mean it's gone forever – I'll find it again. I'll make connections." As Charlie said these words, I knew a part of him grew stronger, and a bigger smile than ever grew upon my face.

"I'm so proud of you. Your tutor will be very pleased to hear this."

"Yeah, and now I don't have to hear you whine all the time. At least – not as much!" Don joked, thumping Charlie on the side. Charlie just smiled. I could tell this moment had put him on much better terms with Don.

As we all laughed and looked at clouds streaming past in swirls, leaves floating across our vision a few times, a shadow came upon us.

"What are you three doing out here?" Alan stood over us, confusion etched on his face. I merely gave him a look and a smile, while Don and Charlie chuckled a bit.

"I am doing the most wonderful thing I can," I said plainly to Alan, as his look of confusion grew, along with my smile. I wrapped my arms around the pair on either side of me. "And that would spending time with the universe's two most beautiful beings – my boys."

Fin.

Author's Note: Well, my first Numb3rs fic. It was fluffy, to say the least, and pretty interesting to write, as I am an avid fan of the show, but my actual knowledge of everything is very little (I can barely ever find time to watch, even though it aires on Fridays). Oh, and I just have to say it:

If you cared for it, please review.
If you didn't, please review.
If you don't care about anything in general, please review.
If you do care about anything in general, please review.

Phew. That should cover just about everybody. Oh, and if you're not a "everybody" or "anybody" or a "you" and are, instead, things or objects, please review.

Thank you very much.

-Firefly Phoenix