Title: The Fury of the Wind
Author: Windimere Wellen
Part: 5 of ?
Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs, so don't sue me.
Author's Note: I know I keep saying this, but thank you thank you thank you for all of the reviews. They're amazing and I appreciate them. Sorry about the time it's taken me to post, life gets complicated! As for the injuries that Don is about to receive, I consulted with my mother, who is a trauma nurse, and has been one for twenty two years. She has seen a lot of unpleasant things, including police officers who have taken multiple bullets to bullet proof vests. She tells me that you see many miraculous things in the ER and in trauma, and everything I've written is plausible, though not always common!
Charlie couldn't remember a time that he had typed so fast. He was sure that he'd typed this fast before, but his mind wouldn't allow him to remember when. All his mind would let him do was process the numbers. Move them around, decode strings of them, put more together, change the function of one or two of them. Anything to get them to open the encryption that mocked him.
All Charlie could think, when his mind would let him, was that this shouldn't seem so hard. It shouldn't seem like such a monumental task. It was just an encryption. He broke them all the time. He'd done it countless times for the FBI, more than halving the time it took the FBI tech squad.
So why was it so hard this time? It was probably because of Don. That seemed so simple. It was probably because some psycho woman was pointing a gun at his beloved brother. Threatening to kill him. Maybe that was why Charlie couldn't focus. Maybe that was why the numbers didn't make sense.
It was a strange feeling. The numbers always made sense. They never left him without answers. They never left him. But now, they seemed to be alluding him. Now, when Charlie needed them the most, he couldn't find the numbers. At least not quickly enough. They were still there. It was just that he couldn't focus on them.
The computer beeped at him in an angry tone for the third time, telling him he'd hit another wall and Charlie forced himself to focus, forced himself not to look at Don any further.
Five minutes. She's going to shoot Don in five minutes. How much time has passed? Three minutes? Four? Charlie didn't know. He'd never been good at keeping track of time. This was even worse. He backtracked through his work. What had he missed? There, in the last line of the secondary part of the encryption. He hadn't filtered out some of the numbers. How had he missed that?
Skellet was standing behind him, gun hovering, but Charlie was oblivious. Megan hadn't taken her eyes off of Don, but Charlie didn't know that either. And Don was just practicing breathing. At least that's what Charlie thought his brother was doing. He imagined that there wasn't much left for Don except to plan an escape that Charlie hoped would come at any moment. Where was the FBI? Why hadn't Don saved them yet?
Charlie knew the thought was unfair, but he couldn't help but think it. Don had always saved him. When he was little and couldn't find the stuffed bear that Don had given him when he'd come home from the hospital, the one he'd slept with every day until he was thirteen and numbers seemed cooler than stuffed animals all of the sudden, Don had found the bear. When mom and dad would argue about Charlie's schooling or argue about how Don was being ignored, Don would take Charlie out to get ice cream, or to the park, anywhere but the house. When they'd been in high school and the older kids had picked on Charlie, Don used to put an end to it, even if he was so discreet Charlie didn't even know it happened. Don had always taken care of Charlie – up until he'd had enough, and had run away – run away to college and then Quantico – away from a life that he had a hard time handling.
Even then though, it was his way of protecting Charlie – protecting Charlie from seeing how much Don had been affected by how Charlie had needed to be raised, protecting Charlie from seeing how hurt and neglected Don sometimes felt, protected Charlie until Don, the confident and self-assured FBI agent, had managed to get himself to a place he finally liked in life.
Don was still doing it – still protecting him. He protected Charlie from his own anger when their mother had passed, by trying his best to understand why Charlie had hid from her and her illness. He had protected Charlie from details of his life that were scary, and he had stopped Charlie from being involved in some of his cases to save him. Don had always taken care of Charlie, even when Charlie didn't want to – didn't need to – be taken care of.
But now, Don wasn't saving him. Now Charlie had to save Don. It wasn't something he was used to. Charlie didn't often think that he needed to be saved. He was often irritated by Don's over protectiveness – especially now, since he was a grown man who had been making his own decisions for some time. He had a hard time just letting Don shield him from what Don judged to be too damaging. But now? All he wished was that Don was protecting him – that Don was saving him from having to save Don.
"Five minutes Charlie," the woman said, giving him just enough time for his heart to skip a beat – enough time to tell her he was done, but he wasn't. She saw it in his eyes, she knew, but still Charlie hoped that her threat had been idle.
It wasn't. The gun came up and she squeezed the trigger without hesitation. Charlie closed his eyes, wondering if he was a coward for being unable to watch the woman shoot his brother.
In the milliseconds that passed, Charlie tried to figure out the trajectory of the bullet from where her image and Don's placement were burned into his mind. His fingers stilled on the keyboard as the gun barked, signaling the release of the bullet. He heard Megan's stifled cry of protest and a painful grunt from Don, and his eyes flew open.
Don's head was tipped back, his throat exposed, straining his neck muscles, and Charlie could see Don's eyes were clenched shut, his face drawn in pain. Desperately, Charlie scanned his brother's body, looking for a blossom of red, but found none. He searched the vest, and the tell tale wisp of smoke formed a skein of thin gray, radiating from the center of the vest.
The woman seemed unconcerned, even as it became clear to Charlie that Don was struggling to breathe. She turned her cold gaze on Charlie. "Clock's ticking Dr. Eppes," she reminded him. Charlie gaped at her. Suddenly, his fingers started moving again, the keys underneath him blurring as he fought back tears. He wanted to watch Don, wanted to know if his brother was all right. Wanted to hear Don's voice. Instead, he had to fight to finish the encryption to save Don. He had to stop this.
Charlie heard the woman's heels click on the stone floor and imagined she was going to check on Don. He chanced one glance, and found her crouching by his brother, feeling for a pulse in his neck, even though Don's eyes were now open, sheeted in pain. His breathing was coming in short gasps, evidence that the bones were pressing hard against his lungs. Don was shivering, a quake so slight that it was hard to notice, but it was a sign of shock as his body rebelled against the abuse it had taken.
"He's still alive Charlie," she was saying, her voice warm again, trying to encouraging him. "And I don't hear any fluid rattling around, so we can say he can handle at least three bullets over the broken ribs. Another three minutes and forty one seconds and we'll see if he can handle four."
"Stop taunting him," 'Suit' suddenly said, walking away from where Megan was straining against her cuffs to see Don better. "You'll distract him and he'll never finish. How long do you think it will take the FBI?" he snapped at her, and Charlie thought he sounded nervous.
"Depends on how far away their office is," she said thoughtfully, then turned back to Don. Charlie almost stopped, wanting to use a few precious seconds to warn her to stay away from his brother, but he couldn't risk it. He had to keep going. Had to keep Don from another bullet. He had to keep the tears out of his eyes.
"Well Agent Eppes? Just how far away is your office?" she asked, and Charlie kept typing, refusing to look up, forcing himself to concentrate on the numbers in front of him. He could hear the soft pulling of tape as the woman pulled away the duct tape over Don's mouth to allow him to speak. "Come on Agent Eppes, how far? How long will it take them?" she asked him again and Charlie's eyes came up, unbidden, the numbers already burned into his mind.
Don was licking his lips, buying himself a little time. She leaned closer to him and Charlie swallowed hard again, watching his brother, noting how much paler he looked. The woman reached out, evidently for his chest and Don shook his head a little to ward her off, and Charlie knew she was threatening Don.
"Twenty minutes," he hissed at her, his voice strained. Charlie winced. Underneath his hands, the computer beeped, but this time it wasn't angry. This time he'd gotten through another layer of the encryption, and he smiled unconsciously.
"Done Dr. Eppes?" Skellet asked and Charlie shook his head negatively.
"No, not yet. But I'm close," he said, almost to himself as the numbers slowly started to congeal into something that made complete sense to him.
"Five minutes is up Dr. Eppes," the woman said, standing up, reaching for the gun she'd tucked into the pocket of her dress suit jacket.
"No!" Charlie protested. "What are you doing? I just told you, I'm close!" She was raising the gun and she turned her head to look at him.
"Your brother just said twenty minutes. It's been almost twelve since your cell phone rang. They could be here any moment," she sneered at him. "So I have to keep you focused. You need an incentive, and it apparently has to be your brother's life."
"Just a few more minutes!" Charlie demanded, but she was already pulling the trigger. This time Don gave an audible cry of pain, and Charlie couldn't handle it. He knew already that the bullet had once again taken Don in the vest, but now Don was literally gasping for breath, his body heaving, trying to free itself from the restraints. Then Don stilled a little, his head dropping down and Charlie thought he was dead.
Not really thinking, Charlie sprung forward, out of Skellet's grasp. He half expected a bullet in the back, but no one fired. The woman looked at him in surprise as he sailed passed her, closing the last two feet between him and Don. Charlie dropped onto his knees, sliding on the marble just a few inches, hands reaching out to grasp Don's head. He knew then that his brother wasn't dead, knew that he had just risked both their lives, but couldn't care.
"Breathe Don, breathe!" he demanded, practically yelling at his brother. He put his hands on the either side of Don's head, nearly cradling it as Don gasped, his eyes tightly squeezed shut. Charlie could feel Don's body spasaming under him and for a moment, he was afraid Don was having some sort of seizure, but slowly, Don was dragging his breathing back under control.
The skin under Charlie's hands was cold to the touch and Don was shivering, and when his dark eyes finally opened, they were unfocused. "Just keep breathing Don."
"You're so stupid Charlie, they might have shot you," Don wheezed out, his voice deadly soft and horribly weak, but Charlie was so happy, he grinned at Don. If Don could be yelling at him, then his brother might just make it out here.
"I don't care," he said, but the adrenaline was fading and Charlie wondered if Don had the same sensations when he participated in raids and busts while he worked. The let down left Charlie shaking a little, and he slowly removed his hands from Don's head.
"Get up Dr. Eppes," the menacing voice of the woman in charge said, and Charlie felt a gun barrel poking into his back. Don mustered what was left of his strength to glare at her, but then his eyes went to Charlie. Charlie caught the funny look that his brother gave him, then watched as Don carefully dragged his eyes to where his discarded FBI jacket lay a few feet away.
It didn't take long for Charlie to realize that Don wanted the jacket. He didn't know why, but he would make sure his brother got it.
"Are you listening to me Dr. Eppes?" the woman growled. Charlie felt a strong grasp on his arm and looked up to see Skellet glaring down at him. "Get back over to that computer, or I'll finish your brother here and now." She was terribly angry, and had Don's gun pointed at Don's head. At this range, even if she hadn't been proficient with a gun, she couldn't have missed.
Charlie was nodding. "Ok, ok," he said, his eyes going from the jacket to where the most recent bullet hole was, a little to the right and up a little, nearly a mirror image to the one on the left, over Don's heart. "I thought you killed him," Charlie said, making sure his voice sounded as pitiful as possible.
There was something in Don's eyes. Something that said his brother had some sort of plan. Something that gave Charlie hope.
Before she could protest, Charlie grabbed Don's jacket, and then, doing his best to remain nonchalant, he laid the jacket over Don's lap, sort of off to the side, so that if Don had a moment where he wasn't being watched, he could get to it, even with his hands cuffed behind his back. Charlie did his best to make it look like he thought Don was cold, not a far stretch since Don was shivering constantly now.
Skellet growled at Charlie's delay, and wrenched Charlie up. Don opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment, but Charlie shot him a look telling him to keep his mouth shut. To Charlie's surprise, Don complied. The jacket was forgotten as both Skellet and the woman forced Charlie back to the computer. It didn't matter to Charlie though. All that mattered was that he'd been able to touch Don, and for all he knew it might have been the last time he would ever have that chance.
"Just finish it Eppes. Next time I'm not aiming for the vest."