Floral Memory, a numb3rs fanfic

Disclaimer: Numb3rs belongs to CBS, creators NF and CH, and producers TS and RS; not me by a long shot.
Author's Note: Story ran away on me; it was supposed to end with a conversation about Terry leaving and it giving Megan and Larry an opportunity to meet. Perhaps, that ending was too sappy; this one is, too, actually. For FK and CK, who tolerate me whenever the TV is on.
Summary: She was the first to admit how odd they appeared as a couple at first glance.
Feedback: If it pleases you.
Rating: G/K/FRC
Archive(s): Mine. Anybody else, email me.
Pairing(s): Larry Fleinhardt/Megan Reeves.
Spoiler(s): (2x08) In Plain Sight and very minor ones from (1x05) Prime Suspect and (2x03) Obsession.

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx

Title: Floral Memory
Author: Sophie

Megan entered the front hall of the restored Victorian and immediately saw the bouquet of flowers. It dominated the small table against the wall where she and her fiancé kept their keys and other miscellaneous objects.

She knew, of course, that the flowers were from him, a gift of happiness recalling the before-times when they were mere colleagues. Megan smiled, reading the note: "Hope today went well. See you after class."

The note was a departure from the routine though, all things considered, she always knew a delivery of tuberoses would be from him. It was a reminder of his first message to her, not that she had known it was from him. In a slip of conversation, so usual with him, he had revealed that he had sent her flowers during her first command gone wrong.

Back then, she always used his title, "Doctor Fleinhardt", and he rarely used her name. She never noticed since Charlie and the FBI's current case were the reasons she usually visited CalSci; if she saw Larry, it was because he happened to be with Charlie.

That was how the conversation slip had happened.

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx

In one of his usual tangential ramblings in Charlie's office, Larry stated, "Just because one doesn't know why something occurred doesn't mean there isn't someone or another behind an action. For example, we can't see a black hole; that doesn't mean we can't infer that it exists by the effects it has on objects around it."

She immediately saw its relevance to the case, but Larry continued to speak.

"Another example: a delivery of tuberoses from an anonymous sender. There can't be a delivery without somebody requesting it."

The word 'tuberoses' caught her attention and she stared at Larry. He was oblivious, looking over Charlie's shoulder at the computer screen.

Charlie had been looking at Megan during Larry's diatribe so he saw the surprise on her face. He made no effort to hide his smirk and she knew that, without the unintentional comment, she would never have discovered who her secret sender was.

"How'd you know about the tuberoses?" she asked, suspicious about the now goofy grin on Charlie's face.

Larry's behavior turned very interesting as his mind backtracked over the words he had uttered. His hands rose to cover his eyes; he turned and exited the room with a stream of incoherent words following his wake.

She knew she looked foolish with her mouth hanging slightly open, but she had to know. So, she turned to Charlie who, besides obviously knowing about the deed, found Larry very entertaining.

"Did he--?" she began to say while pointing in the direction of the open door.

"Yep."

The cheerfully said word supported the fact that Charlie knew too much for his own good. Megan needed answers.

"Where's his--?"

Again, he anticipated her.

"Building on your right on your way out. Take the staircase on your left to the second floor; it's the fourth door on your left."

She made a quick move to leave, but Charlie stopped her.

"Hey, Megan! You know, he really meant to cheer you up--after--you know--"

Megan smiled and she hoped it was as reassuring as she meant it to be.

"I know." She sighed. "I have to thank him. I just can't let this kind of thing go."

Charlie nodded.

xxxxx

She followed Charlie's directions to the letter and found Larry's office with a small modicum of difficulty. Someday, she promised to thank the god of office procedure that dictated all doors to be labeled with a name.

His door was open, a practice so engrained within Larry as a professor: If he was in, his door was open. The observation of the open-door policy was second only to the publish-or-perish policy.

Megan could hear him muttering to himself while he tried to gather papers and books together.

"Dr. Fleinhardt!"

He jumped, shaken from his goal of a fast escape. Do not let it be said that Larry Fleinhardt, Doctor of Philosophy in Physics, never faced a situation head-on. His hands grabbed opposing shoulders in a self-conscious, unsure gesture, but he turned to face her.

"A--Agent Reeves, let--let--let me preempt--"

Social awkwardness brought Larry's tendency to stammer to the forefront. Megan chose not to question why she found it on the endearing side of quirks, as opposed to annoying.

"Given the circumstances, don't you think you should call me 'Megan'?" she asked him, her tone deliberately even.

Her choice of tone worked. Larry removed his hands from his shoulders to cross them over his chest. Megan's training said, "Defensive."

"Call me 'Larry'."

"Nice to meet you, Larry." She laughed at the ridiculous turn of conversation. "I just wanted to tell you that there's no need to apologize. Sending me flowers, wow." She grinned. "I've never had a man do that before; it was a thoughtful thing to do."

"Really?" His incredulity pushed his confidence back onto his shoulders.

"I just wanted to thank you."

Larry shrugged. One of his hands left its position on his body and waved an invitation.

"Oh, well, in that case--"

Megan realized she had never left the threshold; she stepped into the room. He made no indication to retrieve the earlier uncertainty so she took another figurative step.

She asked, "How about you and me take a walk and discuss a few things? I never got that ride in your Model A yet and I'm dying for one."

Larry's agreement was in the form of resumed packing, albeit minus the urgency. After a minute, he stopped and looked at Megan. He rubbed the side of his face in confusion.

"Just so we're clear, this isn't a euphemism for something else, is it?"

The question released any and all tension within the room as they both laughed.

xxxxx

Slowly, they had meandered their way to today. She was the first to admit how odd they appeared as a couple at first glance. However, beneath the surface, there were a number of common interests starting with classic cars and ending with his beautiful Victorian house.

Larry, somehow, had managed to guess--using her interest in the 1931 Ford Model A as a reference point--that she had a deep love for the late 19th-century to early 20th-century period. They spent a lot of their leisure time together searching antique stores and watching silent films.

There were times when Megan was grateful for Larry's close association with Charlie. Their collaboration on the cases Don gave Charlie meant Larry was always in-the-know, so to speak. When she realized she considered their relationship had serious potential, she asked Don to give Larry some level of security clearance. Now that she was accustomed to bringing her work home with her, she was not sure if she could give it up.

A quickly revealed plus-side was that he understood the difficulties and the need to close a case as fast as possible; she loved how supportive he was when she spent those long hours at the office. Nine out of ten cases, Larry was with Charlie working on the relevant mathematics while she and the others were following leads or interrogating suspects.

Then, everything happened so fast: cases were coming in left and right. In the midst of it all, Larry commandeered only one night--as a breather, he insisted and Don insisted--so she left the office. Retrospectively, she saw how Don must have been involved though he maintained a façade of innocence.

So soon after admitting to herself that she could see herself with Larry for the rest of her life, he dropped down to one knee and proposed to her. Unlike their first personal--non-work related--conversation, he pledged his life to her without falter.

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Megan mused over the past weeks and pulled a tuberose from the bouquet. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent. Opening her eyes again, she saw the ring on the hand that held the flower.

Its weight was still so new, and she wanted to revel in it. There had been no time at all to savor the newfound status of engagement. The morning after Larry's proposal, she was at the office, catching up on what she had missed during the night. Amazingly, that had been weeks ago during which Larry quietly cared for her as she focused on her job.

Patience was a forte of Larry's; Megan was so grateful for it. She promised herself to somehow thank him for it.

Before she could remove her jacket and really settle in to enjoy her evening at home, the front door opened. Briefcase in one hand and a folder filled with paper in the other, Larry was too busy juggling everything to immediately notice her.

He saw her an instant after closing the door. His smile removed weeks' worth of stress from her body.

"When'd you get home?" he asked, dropping his briefcase to the floor so he could hug her.

She took the file folder from his hands and left it on the table. They meandered their way to Victorian's parlor as she replied.

"A while ago, actually. I got lost in the flowers."

Larry looked at her with a bemused expression. "You just spent weeks working sixteen-plus-hour days and the minute you get home, instead of sleeping, you smell flowers?"

Megan laughed. She fiddled with the ring on her finger; life with Larry would not be dull.

"The memories were pleasant."

His eyebrows went up. "Oh, really?" He settled more comfortably into the sofa and concentrated his attention on her, saying, "Do tell."

FIN