Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs or anything associated with it. This story is for entertainment only.
Authors note: This is my first fanfiction story of any kind and I'm a little nervous as to how it will be recieved, so please read and tell me what you think.
I'm from Australia and I have only seen the beginning of season two, so you'll have to forgive me if there's something in the story that contradicts what happens later in the season. Although it probably doesn't matter, seeing as the main part of the story is set during Charlie's time at Princeton.
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Charlie hadn't believed the letter when he first read it. He had almost missed it altogether. Only seeing it when he had to run back upstairs to get a book he had forgotten. It was lying on the table, near the front door. He wanted to ask his dad when it had arrived but Alan had already left.
Charlie recognised the handwriting on the envelope before he even read his own name on the front. A name popping into his head. Jack. A name he hadn't thought about for a long time but a name he would never forget. Jack.
At first he had been excited. It had been so unexpected. He and Jack hadn't spoken for years. Hadn't had any contact at all. But that excitement quickly turned to dread as he read the contents of the letter. He should have known. Jack didn't write letters.
Charlie hadn't believed it. Tore his room apart looking for a book full of old phone numbers he never rang. He knew Jack would have moved since the last time they had spoken. Didn't want to call him at home anyway. What if he didn't pick up?
Found his mother's number. Prayed it was the same after all these years. A woman picked up. Her voice distant and cold.
Yes it was true. Yes very sad. Funeral will be next week. Hope you can make it. He would have wanted you there. Have to go. Good-bye.
She hung up. Charlie didn't. Couldn't. Tears in his eyes. Squeezing the phone. Whispering. Jack. Jack. But he didn't answer. Couldn't. The dead don't use the phone. Looking back down at the letter. Last line glaring back at him.
I don't know anything anymore.
Charlie's mind drifting back. Years and years ago. Before that line meant anything to him. Before..
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Jacob Hillary-Lloyd. But you can all me Jack.
Jack was a prodigy too. 13 and 3/4 years old. Two months older than Charlie. His family was arguably the richest family in New Jersey. He was an only child and his parents were more than happy to hand him over to Princeton to take care of. Jack had never had a friend although he did have a nanny. He was used to getting his way.
Charlie, Charlie Eppes.
Charlie had never heard of Jack's family before. Jack, grinning wonderfully, told Charlie he wanted to marry him. Charlie smiled and looked at the ground.
In the real world they would never have been friends. But they weren't in the real world. They were two children in a world of grown ups, treated like grown ups, expected to act like grown ups. They were special, or so they were told. They had a gift. They could do anything they wanted. Be anything they wanted.
Jack wanted to be an engineer at NASA. Wanted to send people to Mars. We'll have a whole colony there, he said. Jack wanted lots of things in the future. He wanted a nice house with a white fence. A wife and two children. He wanted to go out to work in the morning and then come home to his family at night. They would all sit round the table and tell each other about their day. He wanted to take his kids to baseball games and go camping. He wanted to do all the things he had never done.
Charlie realised that Jack liked talking about the future because he didn't like the present very much. But he never told Jack he knew.
Charlie wanted to be a teacher. He didn't care who he taught. Anyone who would listen. He wanted to make them understand, wanted to make them see. Jack would laugh at him. They'll never understand, he said. Couldn't. Charlie would just smile. He didn't believe Jack.
On Charlie's 14th birthday, Jack managed to get his hands on a bottle of vodka. They both got very drunk. It was Charlie's first time. Jack said it was his first too. But Charlie didn't believe him.
They talked about their families. Or at least Jack listened while Charlie talked about his family. Jack loved hearing about Charlie's family. He especially loved hearing about Don. He told Charlie that he was going to kill him and steal his family. Charlie just smiled and looked down at the ground.
As the night wore on, and the vodka continued to disappear, they both started to let their guard down. Jack told Charlie how much he hated his parents and sometimes even thought about killing them. Charlie laughed, not knowing if he believed Jack. Jack told him that he hated the numbers. That he wanted to get a knife and just cut them out of his head. Then he laughed and told Charlie he was really drunk. Charlie laughed too.
After that Jack was quiet letting Charlie tell him about all the times he had tried to explain his numbers to people. His mum. Dad. Brother. No one ever understood. But he wasn't going to stop until they did. He had to make them understand.
Why? Jack had asked. Charlie didn't answer him. Couldn't. So Jack answered for him. Because you're lonely. Charlie looked at him. Jack smiled. I'm lonely too. Then he closed his eyes and lay back on the couch. But they'll never understand. Then Charlie pushed him off the couch.
When they were fifteen, Jack got sick. He went to hospital one night and didn't come back for a week. When he did he was tired and thin. He had big black circles under his eyes. He smiled at Charlie but his lips were cracked and his eyes were sad.
Charlie's mother told him that Jack just had a bad cold. Charlie didn't believe her. Yelled at her until she told him the truth. Jack had tried to kill himself. He had taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. He's a very sad little boy, she said. She asked Charlie if he was sad. Charlie realised she thought he wanted to hurt himself too. He said he was fine and went to bed.
The next day, Jack wouldn't talk to him. They did their work in silence. When they went outside for lunch Charlie got angry. Grabbed Jack and shook him. Yelled at him to talk. Say something. Jack ran away. Charlie followed easily catching up with him. Grabbing him and throwing him to the ground. Then he just stood there frozen. Not quite believing what was happening. Jack turned to face him. Eyes bloodshot with tears.
Charlie didn't know what to do. Didn't realised he was already doing something. Salty tears dribbling down his own face. Feeling so helpless, so confused. He didn't understand these thoughts that were suddenly in his head. Thoughts that made him angry. Didn't Jack realise what he was doing?
He leaned down and grabbed Jack's arm, dragging him up. He shook him again. Words forming in his mind, words that were out of his mouth before he even knew it.
You selfish bastard. Don't you realised what you're doing? What about me? What would I do without you? What about me?
Tears choked him and he let go of Jack. Let him slide down to the ground. Slid down with him. His whole world clouded with tears. Sobbing now.
What about me? What would I do if you went? How would I survive?
Jack's arm around his shoulders, soothing words in his ear.
You're going to do fine. You're Charlie Eppes. You're going to be great. You don't need me.
Charlie held back a sob, turned to face Jack. Had to make him understand.
But I do. I do. Because you're like me. And you're right. No one will ever understand me. But you do. And so no matter where you are or where I am, even if we are thousands of miles apart, I will always know that you are out there. And when no one understands, I'll know that somewhere out there, you will.
His world dissolved in tears again. But at least he knew that Jack understood. Had to understand. They're were two of a kind.
Jack squeezed Charlie's shoulders. Wiped away his friend's tears. Held him as the sobs subsided. A sad smile on his face.
I know what you know. And you know what I know.
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Charlie found himself in the garage. Looking up at the blackboards covered with chalk numbers. Jack was dead. Jack had killed himself. It wasn't a surprise to Charlie. After they graduated, Jack had moved to New York, gotten involved with drugs. He had a lot of problems.
It wasn't a surprise, just a bitter disappointment. And a fear that started to creep inside him. The last line of the letter stuck in his head.
I don't know anything anymore.
A twisted logic forming from despair and fear. If Jack didn't know anything anymore, then what did Charlie know? The words that comforted him long ago, coming back to haunt him.
I know what you know.
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A/N: Well there it is. I'm a little unsure what to do with it. I'm aware it seems kind of unfinished. I don't know whether I should just leave it as it is, or go on with a few more chapters. Please review and tell me what you think.