I don't own Numb3rs. I miss the show greatly though. This is my pathetic attempt at a fanfic for the show. It's not exactly great but I had an inspiration. I'm still working through it too so reviews are a source of weather or not I should continue.
There won't be any pairing slash or otherwise in this. I know. I'm trying something different.
"Breakfast!" a deep alto voice chimed up the stairs of a small house.
The wood halls echoed loudly as her voice sailed through them. However, her call was met by the soft sounds of pencil or pen against paper. She listened as the hum of writing paused every so often to be replaced by tapping sounds like a pen against the top of a desk. She could hear a soft sigh of frustration and she called once more. This time, she was met with the sounds of chairs scraping against wood flooring and padded footfalls as her two housemates made their way to her. She smiled softly as she heard the two run into each other and blather apologies. One went into the restroom and the other came down the steps.
"Sorry Mom," a soprano voice said, her voice sounding clipped. "This though process of mine is driving me crazy! I can't get it to work with me no matter what angle of thought I attack it from." The woman smiled as her little girl stumbled down the narrow stairwell in short shorts that she only wore at home and a black tank top.
"No worries Darling," she laughed. "I know how you get when a theory doesn't seem to want to work in your favor." She smiled as she squeezed the girl's shoulder motherly. "However, you're going to be late if you keep this up."
"Crap!" the girl yelped as she suddenly shifted into overdrive. "What time is it?" Her green eyes were wide and her hands flew to her mouth in shock, fearing the worst.
"Time enough for you to sit and eat – slowly! – and then get into appropriate clothes before catching the bus to the campus," the woman said, laughter in her eyes as she ushered her daughter to the dinning room that sat next to – almost in – the kitchen. "Eat slowly and savor the food I've made you. I'll get him taken care of as soon as he's done."
The girl let her mother gently place her in a seat and stared at the food like it wasn't what it was. She moved automatically then, her hands flashing into action as she attacked the food. Her mother shook her head as she watched her choke the food down, not bothering to taste it. The girl's eyes flashed up to the clock and she slowed slightly but not enough to make her mother truly happy. Instead of getting after her, the woman called back up the stairs where the sound of running water finally shut off.
"I called for both of you!"
"I'm coming!" a male voice yelped. "Can I at least dry off and put pants on?"
"Food! Now! Before it gets cold!" the woman screeched, her legendary patience finally being tossed out the window.
"Mom!" the girl screeched in shock. "Don't do this to me!"
"Fine!" the woman huffed. "He can wear pants!"
"Thank you!" both of the housemates chimed in unison. The woman shook her head and went back to her kitchen. As she bustled about, she watched the girl slam down orange juice like it was a shot. Her brown eyes flitted to the creaking wood stairs as the male of the house tumbled down for breakfast. He was wearing jeans, a slight hint of black boxers at his hips. He was tossing on a gray shirt as he shambled over to the table.
"Sorry," he sighed as his head finally popped out through the collar. "My head was preoccupied on…something. It felt….Familiar." He shrugged his hands waving it off towards the walls as he sat down next the girl. He smiled at her and ruffled her short caramel blonde hair a bit before she slapped his shoulder without all that much force. He chuckled and dug into the food before him. "Wonderful as per usual Maria," he said as soon as his mouth wasn't full.
"Why thank you!" Maria smiled as she continued to bustle about. The girl stuck her tongue out at him as if to call him a kiss up. He stuck his out at her impudently and Maria chortled softly at how childish he was. He was maybe thirty but he acted like he was ten. "At least someone appreciates my food," she added melodramatically.
"I like your food just fine Mom," the girl muttered somewhat bitterly. "I just can't think about anything but that theory at the moment!"
"What about school? Isn't your first day today?" the man asked gently. The girl nodded enthusiastically. She was smiling as she chewed on her bacon.
"Yeah it is," she confirmed. "I thought I was going to be late thanks to somebody we both know." She glanced at her mother meaningfully and the man chuckled in amusement. This was so typical for these two.
The mother-daughter pair had been together for years and had lost both the father and the elder brother to the neighborhood they lived in. they couldn't move because Maria didn't have enough money to do so and it really wasn't as easy as it looked to leave. Maria was actually under the "protection" of one of the local gangs. Her husband had died in a rival gang attack and her son had died trying to get revenge. She and her daughter were seen as royal women because of the two men who'd died for the gang. That and Maria's husband had been high up in the gang. The man had seen pock markings from bullets in some of the walls still; as if they really couldn't refill them. There wasn't much of a point to refilling them; they would just be blasted open again sooner or later.
"Hey Mari," the man said to the woman. "Are you planning on letting her go alone?" His concern was well founded. He'd been with them for a month and in that time; there had been three or four drive by shootings. He didn't really like this place and was glad that the girl had a full boat scholarship to a prestigious university at such a young age – eighteen.
"If you wish to go with her then I will feel better yes," Maria sighed. The girl shook her head.
"No way! I'm going on my own!" the girl yelped through food. She waved the pointed end of her fork at her mother and the man. "Neither one of you is getting on that bus with me!"
Both held up their hands in submission. "Fine!" they chimed together. The girl glared at both, the look not really all that powerful, until she nodded in utter confidence that she had won. She shoved the last of her food into her mouth and handed off the plate and utensils to her mother.
"Gotta get dressed," she muttered to herself more than anybody else. "Gotta get ready to go. Carlos is planning on meeting me outside." She continued to ramble through her schedule as she wandered blindly up the stairs again. She was counting on her fingers as she spoke and the man watched her with concern. As soon as she was up the steps, he looked back at her mother to find his concern mirrored and heightened exponentially.
"Carlos?" he asked. "Does she mean Carlos Valero?"
Maria nodded her brown eyes agonizing over something he didn't have a firm grasp on. All he understood of Carlos was that he was working his way up and he was doing it fast. Maria's husband had had status but Carlos was currently above it despite his young age. Carlos was also trying to "win" Maria's little girl's hand. The man couldn't say the youth was winning but when it came to Maria's little girl, he could never be sure. She was as scatterbrained as he was but at least he had a real excuse.
His hand absently traced the scar of a head wound that circled his right temple. He didn't remember anything before waking up in the girl's bedroom, a damp rag cleaning his wounds. He didn't remember how he'd ended up in the area let alone how he'd been so badly injured. On his back were red welts that had turned into scars that he was unsure how he'd gotten. On his chest and torso were burn scars that made him guess at torture.
It had become painfully apparent how dangerous it was for him to be here even when Maria was protected. Her protection was limited even if she did have it. She and her daughter could do as they wished – which meant Maria could enroll her little girl in any school out of the area – and she could keep him there. However, the protection brought dangers from rival gangs. It was obvious who they were and their home was attacked almost regularly because of that knowledge.
The protection really only brought up a risk for the two women and for anyone who dared shoot "at" them. Retaliation was almost immediate if the gang thought Maria or her daughter had been aimed at; intentionally or not. Carlos had made that even more apparent when he stared courting the girl.
She was his and he took it personally if she was put in danger.
"I'm her mother," Maria murmured. "I worry as any mother should."
The man shook his head as he sighed. He sipped at his orange juice silently as he let the sound of shuffling around reach his ears from the upper floor. He really hated this area. He wanted Maria to get free of this place even if they didn't feel they could. He wanted them out of this life even though he knew it'd follow them. Maria's excuse for worrying was just another reason he wanted to get them out as soon as possible.
"How many times have I heard that in the past three and a half weeks?" he muttered his tone dark and almost murderous.
"You sound like them," Maria warned gently as she washed the dish her daughter had given her. She was actually rewashing it the way she always did when she was anxious. "You need to remember your history soon. I don't want you turning into them. You're too good for this life."
"Sorry," he replied, his tone softer and more apologetic. He downed the last of his juice and stood. "I need to get back to that problem. It's bugging me. Maybe I'll remember something if I keep up at it."
"Go on," Maria smiled. "Have fun. Change the world with numbers."
He nodded, a soft smile growing on his face. He felt his hand rub at his scar again as if it were a natural thing to do. He wanted to work with music in his ears, numerous chalkboards, and plenty of chalk. He didn't know why. It just felt like he was supposed to. In reaction to being unable to get such things – the music was somewhat easy considering the girl had an MP3 player with plenty of styles of music – he'd started to trace the scar on his head as he worked.
He passed a hallway mirror that had been shattered slightly from falling and being hit by flying bullets. It still reflected well though and Maria didn't want to get rid of it since it had been handed down for generations. He stared at his somewhat haphazard image and marveled at his dark curly hair, boyish face, brown eyes that screamed his intelligence was high, and obviously soon to be powerful jaw. He felt incomplete when he looked at himself in a mirror – of any kind – like another half of him was missing. It was like he was supposed to see another person before he saw himself.
Sometimes he did see the face he felt he knew well. As he trudged up the steps to see the girl bustling about, shoving things into her backpack, his thoughts still on that mystery face. He smiled at her and moved to get her fully charged MP3 from his room. In response to her allowing him to borrow it, he made a point of keeping it charged so she could use it too. He handed it to her on the sly enjoying the smile she gave him and then returned to his room to immerse himself in his papers.
That face sprang before his eyes as he was about to start writing again. He closed his eyes and tried to make it focus to no avail. All he could tell was that he was looking up at it as if the person it belonged to was taller than he was. Dark hair framed what he guessed was a strong face in a simple, casual crew cut. As it faded again – this time faster than it usually did – he sighed in remorse. He opened his eyes and rubbed his scar.
His thoughts suddenly cleared, the numbers coming to him easily, and he started back in. In seconds, he was in his own little world; one that was empty of the sound of horns, sirens, and gun shots. He was gone to the rest of the world and he felt like he was himself again. That was all he wanted at that moment.
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