Nixie
Disclaimer: Me no own Numb3rs…so sad…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Chapter Ten: Sweet Child O' Mine (Guns 'n Roses)
The week seemed to traverse too quickly for Don—speeding by with all its emotional highs and lows in a flurry that rocked him to his core.
Nixie began to speak.
At first it was only little bits—Don greeted her the morning after the near kidnapping with his usual 'morning, sunshine', and was surprises to hear a small piping voice respond 'G'morning daddy.' He had been at an utter loss for words and again that night, before drifting off to dreamland she murmured a faint 'G'night' and he felt himself smiling at the sheer pleasure of these seemingly trifles of accomplishment.
Then it became small questions while they were driving. About a song on the radio, the different types of trees, where they were going—and she seemed so infinitely pleased when Don merely responded 'home.'
He learned that her favorite color was yellow because 'it's the happiest color.'
He learned that she liked animals because they 'love without thinking.'
He learned that she loved the sun because 'it makes everything safe.'
He stopped at every possible tourist attraction he could think of, to show her something beautiful when all she had known was ugliness. The closer they got to LA, the closer Don felt to Nixie and all her innocent inquires.
At the Grand Canyon, they stood side by side looking over the massive expanse of brilliantly colored rock and they marveled at its incomparable beauty. After a few moments of silence, Don noticed Nixie was silently looking up at the sky. He impulsively decided to sit on the ground beside her and after a few moments she followed suit.
The gentle breeze blew past him, running through his hair and he closed his eyes savoring the moment—enjoying the feel of his daughter peacefully sitting next to him as the light summer wind drifted by and sounded through the hollow expanse of the canyon below them.
"Daddy," Nixie began, breaking the companionable silence, "Why is the sky blue?" Don looked at his daughter amused as she met his eyes with earnest curiosity.
"I," he started, completely serious, "…have no idea." He grinned as the small child huffed in annoyance and gave him a shove.
"Dad-dy," she rolled her eyes.
"Wha-at." he shot right back, slinging his arm around her shoulders and giving her a playful shake. "I'll tell you what I do know though," he continued looking up at the sky.
"What?" Nixie responded curiously.
"See that cloud?"
"Which one?"
"That one." Don spoke pointing as his daughter tried to follow his line of sight.
"That one?" she said pointing.
"That one." He nodded.
"What about it?" Nixie asked.
"I think it looks just like a rabbit." Don met her gaze with a serious and somewhat straight face.
"No, it's a hare." His daughter replied quite solemn, her features completely serious. Don, caught off guard, burst into laughter.
"Ok, you got me, it's a hare." He conceded as the small child grinned proudly at him.
"What about that one?"
"Which one?"
"The one next to the hare."
"That's a turtle."
"A turtle? Are you sure?"
"Yes daddy, it's a turtle." Her tone of voice was painstakingly patient and so they sat for the next hour pointing out the clouds above the Grand Canyon and debating the various forms and shapes they resembled.
That night, in the simplistic hotel room, Don sat next to Phoenix on the bed, reading to her a children's story that he'd bought earlier in the week.
"Daddy," she began in what Don now thought of as her inquisitive tone after he had finished the story.
"Yes?"
"When we get to California is it going to be just me and you? Do we have more family?" Her open expression faced Don and he smiled gently, inwardly wincing at the thought of the soon and upcoming conversation he was going to have with Charlie and his father.
"Well," he began softly, "There's my brother Charlie—that's your uncle, and my dad who is your Grandpa—you'll get to meet them when we get to L.A."
"And L.A. is the big city where we're going to live?"
"Yup." He pulled a stray clump of hair from her face.
"And what are they like? They're nice like you right?" Her concerned facial expression tugged at his heart and Don smiled.
"Of course they are!" Nixie smiled sweetly at him, completely reassured by her father. "Your Uncle Charlie is the smartest guy I know," Don continued, "He knows a lot about numbers and math."
"Really?" The six-year-old's interest perked up.
"Really. And your Grandpa is one of the wisest people I know."
"What's the difference between smart and wise?" A curious voice wanted to know.
"Well," he began, thinking hard of a way to say what he wanted in terms that his daughter could understand, "Smart is when you are good at learning things, like out of books and wise is when you are smart because you lived through something." Don winced, not exactly the crystal clear explanation he was going for, but Nixie seemed to be satisfied by it.
"So knowing by reading and knowing be living." She nodded as if it made all the sense in the world.
"Yeah, well pretty close to that." They sat for a few moments—Nixie lost in her own little world and Don thinking about how he hoped that maybe tonight would be the night that his daughter would finally get an uninterrupted night of sleep—that maybe she would finally be free of the nightmares that plagued her still.
"C'mon, time to go to sleep." He spoke firmly as he stood up and tucked the child in, pointedly ignoring her somewhat disappointed look.
"Good night daddy." She reached towards him with skinny arms and Don hugged her tightly.
"Good night kiddo." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she returned the favor before snuggling down into the covers. He turned off the light and made sure the nightlight was in working order in the nearby outlet before climbing into bed himself.
For hours it seemed, he lay there staring at the ceiling, his mind moving a million miles a minute—he had had few nightmares about that morning at the gas station and he'd woken up past nights in a cold sweat. He never made any noise, none that would wake Nixie anyway and for that at least, he was thankful.
He didn't know what she dreamt about—whether it was still of the horrors she'd seen in the past or the more recent near abduction—all he knew was that some fear still shredded her peaceful slumber in the late hours of the night. –He waited for it tonight, like he did on some other nights. Don listened to his daughter's deep even breaths and waited for it to hitch and hasten—the first sign that the night would not slide by in ease.
Tonight however, Don was lulled into a gentle slumber at the rhythmic and constant evenness of his child's deep and steady breathing.
For tonight, for one night at least, there would be no nightmares.
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