Just a quick thanks to those who've stuck with the story so far, regardless of what you may have thought I did to Charlie. Please hang in a bit longer . . .

Vendetta
By BeckyS
April 2005-2006

The Eppes family and the characters and situations from the TV show "NUMB3RS"
are the property of the Scotts and the creation of Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci.
No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Home. Why had he told David to drive his Suburban to the family house instead of his apartment? They pulled into the driveway and stopped, Colby and Megan caught in traffic somewhere behind them, but Don didn't open his door. He just stared through the windshield at the house, and memories flooded him.

"A baby? We're gonna have a baby? He better be a boy, 'cause I'm gonna teach him everything!"

"Hey, Charlie? Can you . . . you got a minute? See, there's this thing in my math homework . . . No, I won't do your chores for you!"

"You guys go on to the diner and I'll catch up with you at the movie. I gotta pitch a few to the little twerp."

"Dad? I got suspended from school for two days . . . because . . . because some kids were beating up on Charlie and I hit them."

"Mom, you gotta let him go to that college. I don't get it, but I know he's gonna die if you don't let him."

"You've never kissed a girl?"

"Charlie, geez, it's just a test. You take tests all the time and you always ace them. Driving tests aren't any different. You just practice . . . ."

"A Ph.D. Wow. Hey, buddy, you did good!"

And then, too many years later, "I'm coming home, Charlie. I'm moving back to L.A."

The house looked all misty in the evening light, the automatic sprinklers showering sparkling diamonds of water on the walkway and grass. He swiped at his eyes. He'd come home to be with his mother before she died, and it seemed now a kind of gift – because of her illness, he'd gotten to spend time with Charlie before he left them, too. He hoped they were together somewhere.

He opened the door and slid from the passenger seat. He knew that look in David's eye, knew the younger man was concerned, but Don appreciated that he kept his thoughts to himself. There was nothing he could say tonight that would help. He led the way to the door, pulled out his key, and stepped through.

And was instantly immersed in his brother's spirit. Charlie, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the low table in the living room, papers spread on every surface except for where his laptop was propped up. Charlie, clearing the papers from his bed upstairs with a shake of the comforter, or sometimes just falling on top of them into instant sleep. In the solarium, down the hall from his bedroom, pacing in the sunlight as he worked out a new approach to a problem. Watching the logs burn in the fireplace while everyone else in the family watched television. What had he seen in the flames? Had he somehow known that he had to burn bright, because he wouldn't burn for long?

Don strode through the archway into the dining room and out the back doors, not stopping until he got to the koi pond. He stared at the garage, only dimly aware that David had followed him.

"Don?" He spoke for the first time.

"I never understood how Charlie could hide himself in there for so long. I didn't know how overwhelming it was for him to lose Mom." He shook his head. "I can't go in there. I'd tear down every blackboard and smash them into a million pieces and I can't do that to Dad. Not – not yet, anyway."

He knelt by the koi pond and watched the fish swim aimlessly. "You know, Charlie was just a little guy when we got those fish. He was fascinated by them from the first time he saw them."

"Well," said David, "little kids like stuff like that. They see a bird flying, an ant dragging a crumb along the ground, and they're just completely absorbed by it."

Don laughed. "Absorbed doesn't begin to describe it. He was obsessed. I couldn't figure it out. 'Course, I was about nine and completely into baseball. Couldn't see why a kid would want to watch fish swim." He shook his head. "He wasn't just watching them, he was tracking all the different designs they made, tracking them to see if there were patterns. Triangles, rectangles, how many god-knows-what. He was four." His voice cracked. "He was only four."

"Don, let's go inside. You need to get something to eat."

"I lost him, David. I lost my little brother." His breath started to come in hitches.

David took him by the elbow and helped him stand, then guided him back to the house. "Megan," the younger agent said with relief when he saw her standing by the open door. They led Don to the table and she pushed gently on one of his shoulders to get him to sit down.

David headed for the kitchen, saying, "I'll get some water."

Megan fished in her purse for the bottle of medicine and pulled out two pills. She turned Don's hand over and put them in his palm, then took the glass from David and set it in front of him. "Take them, Don."

"What are they?" he asked, most of his mind still out at the pond.

"They'll help you relax a bit, maybe help you sleep."

He stared at the small objects in his palm and gradually brought them into focus. "Sleep. Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Merrick needs me sharp for tomorrow. Needs me for—" He broke off and rubbed at his forehead with his other hand. "Thanks, guys. I'm gonna go upstairs now." He tossed the pills in his mouth and drank the entire glass of water. He waved at the kitchen. "Please, help yourselves to whatever you want. But . . . stay down here?"

"Of course," Megan answered softly.

He nodded his thanks, his throat too closed for more words, then got up and headed for the stairs. Colby came in the front door, but Don couldn't look at him. He suspected that somehow Colby knew what he was feeling, really knew, and Don found he couldn't bear his sympathy.

Colby's voice, though, was almost matter-of-fact. "I checked the perimeter, boss. All's clear."

He looked up at the younger agent then, and read the messages in his clear green eyes. Yeah, I know – I get it. I'm not going to talk about it, though, because you don't need that right now. But I'll watch out for you tonight so you can get the rest you need, and tomorrow we'll nail the bastards.

He nodded once, then headed upstairs.

Colby entered the dining room quietly, and when they heard the last of Don's footsteps, sat down heavily in the chair Don had just left.

David sank down next to him. "Man, I've never been through something that bad."

"It was the shock," Megan said. "Finding out that way, seeing those photos – he'll find his balance, but I don't think he'll ever really get over it."

"Maybe after the coroner gets finished with Charlie's body, gets him cleaned up. They do a good job of making them look peaceful." David sounded doubtful, though.

"First we have to find him," Colby said ruefully.

"How can you lose a body?" David asked. "I mean, I know how it can happen, but I can't believe it happened to Charlie!"

Megan sank down into a chair on the other side of the table. "There's something strange about all of this. I haven't said anything to Don, not yet, but there are too many weird things going on."

David's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't get a chance to read the file, did you?"

"Heck, no, I was too busy trying to keep Don on his feet."

She drew aimless patterns on the table top with Don's glass. "Beyond the obvious questions of why someone would beat Charlie to death and then what happened to his body, why was Merrick the first agent on the scene?"

"What?" said Colby,

She nodded. "A campus policeman was first, then Charlie's friend Larry, and within ten minutes, the AD turns up. What was he doing in Pasadena?"

Colby looked at David. "Visiting the mayor?"

"Maybe," David answered. "But Megan's right – something feels wrong about all this."

She stood up and headed for the kitchen to get some food. "Guess we'll have a couple questions in the morning."

"Yeah," Colby said. "I guess we will."

In the physics department at CalSci, almost all of the lights were off for the night, even the late classes having let out an hour ago. One lone rectangle of light shone out onto the hallway floor as Amita Ramanujan finally headed home for the day. She somehow felt that if the day never ended, the day that had started with Charlie being alive, that he wouldn't really be gone.

Foolish. But then her heart had always fought to override her mind.

She stopped in the doorway and studied the man within. Charlie's best friend sat behind his desk with his elbows propped on stacks of ungraded papers, his face buried in his hands. She could see dark brown stains on the cuff of one jacket sleeve and felt her stomach roil. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She wasn't the only one hurting.

"Larry?" she said softly.

He slowly raised his head and she saw his cheeks were wet. He folded his hands together, laid them on the desk in front of him. "Amita? Are you okay?"

"About the same as you, I think. In shock. Not believing." She placed a fist against her breastbone. "My heart feels like it's about to burst inside." Her breath hitched. "No, I'm not okay. I don't think I'll ever really be okay again."

Larry didn't offer any platitudes. He simply heaved a long, sibilant, "Yes."