Long Way Down

[musicalluna]

Title: Long Way Down
Fandom: Numb3rs
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: eT
Characters/Pairings: Charlie, Don
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Shiny objects are the archenemies of distractible geeks.
A/N: Srsly, can't resist hurting Charlie. I wanted blood, but Charlie has tough skin I guess. This one was mostly for the grabby hands anyway.
Disclaimer: This is the quantum theory of They Don't Belong to Me.

"LAPD has three teams canvassing the neighborhood to see if anyone saw anything that morning, but nothing's come up so far."

Don nodded, murmuring an acknowledgment to the statement, but his eyes, and much of his attention, were focused just outside the window of the apartment where Charlie had climbed out onto the fire escape and was now gazing raptly up at the corner of the next building over. Periodically he glanced down at the clipboard in his hand, but even when he wasn't looking, his hand continued scribbling off God-knew-what across the pages. The corner of Don's mouth twitched upward as he watched his brother work his math voodoo.

~ * ~

Charlie finally reached the end of the equation he'd been following and looked down at his notes, grimacing briefly at the way they meandered across the page, occasionally running into one another.

He was rechecking his work when a shimmer of light at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He blinked, white spots springing up in front of him. Frowning, he let the clipboard in his hands drop a few inches and moved toward the railing on the fire escape, cocking his head as he peered down at the pavement, searching for the object that had caught the light.

There was something glittering faintly on the pavement, but Charlie couldn't quite make out what it was. He leaned forward a little further, squinting as he tried to make the object out. Maybe some kind of crystal...?

He was bent over the rail, half hanging in open space when the ladder leading up to the first level of the fire escape slammed down, shaking the entire metal frame violently. Charlie jerked in shock, was thrown off-balance, and tried, too late, to compensate.

He pitched, headfirst, over the fire escape railing.

~ * ~

Don was peering at the shattered remains of the glass coffee table in the living room of Marie Walle's apartment when he heard something crash down on the fire escape, rattling the whole thing like it was coming down. “What the hell...?”

He glanced toward the window, instinctively looking for Charlie and he felt something inside him go cold when he saw his brother taking a header over the fire escape railing. “Shit!”

Don raced for the window, hurling himself out, banging his shins on the sill on his way, and lunging for Charlie's flailing legs. One hand made bone-jarring contact with one of the metal supports, the other shooting through just in time to feel the breeze as Charlie plummeted past. He gaped in horror, the metal grating gouging into his cheek, watching helplessly as his little brother hit the pavement below with a sharp crack and a strangled cry of agony.

“Charlie!” Megan cried, but she was out on the street near the van, her voice barely a blip on Don's radar.

“No, no, no, no no no!” Don started chanting, scrambling to his feet despite the fierce throbbing that his right shin offered up in response and starting to pound down the fire escape, shouting, “Charlie?!”

He got a soft groan in response, and when he tossed a look over his shoulder as he was nearly throwing himself down the ladder, he saw his brother stirring. That sent a wave of relief through him that was almost painful in it's intensity.

He hit his knees the second he was near Charlie, his hand moving to gingerly touch his shoulder. “Charlie? Charlie, hey, Buddy, what hurts? Tell me what hurts, okay?”

Megan joined them a second later, breathing almost as hard as he was.

Charlie moaned, one arm pulled up close to his chest, face completely bloodless. He was gritting his teeth and breathing heavily through his nose, but there was wetness in his eyelashes and he nearly choked on the words when he said, “Mm-my arm. Th-think it's broken.” He whimpered and Don cringed, wanting to do anything, anything at all, to make it better.

“What about everything else?” he asked instead. “Anything else hurt?”

Scrunching up his forehead, Charlie gave his head one tight shake. “Hip, leg, ribs a little. N-nothing like my arm.”

“It definitely looks like he's broken it,” Megan confided in a low voice. “I don't see any blood though. He's really lucky.”

“Don't I know it,” Don muttered darkly and then scooted a little closer, putting his hand gently against the top of Charlie's head. “You're gonna be okay, all right, Charlie? We'll get you to the doctor and they'll patch you up, just like new.” He nodded at Megan and she immediately understood, moving away to call an ambulance.

Don turned back to his brother who was breathing through his mouth with strict concentration—trying not to cry. He put a hand between his shoulders and said quietly, “Hey, it's okay, Buddy. Broken bones hurt like hell.”

Charlie try to mask the sound, but he sniffled and took a hitching breath, leaning into the hand against the side of his head. “Th-that was s-stupid,” he stuttered and Don smiled wanly.

“It wasn't your usual caliber of thinking, that's for sure.” He watched as Charlie tried to adjust without jarring the broken arm, small winces flickering across his face as he moved his legs and said, “You're sure nothing else hurts? Your head? Maybe your neck or back?”

Charlie shook his head, a deep furrow of pain drawn straight down between his eyebrows. “No. I landed o-on my arms. They took the brunt o-of the impact so I sh-should be okay.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed at his face a second later as a rogue droplet slipped out from beneath his right eyelid.

Don glanced away, but he rubbed a hand over Charlie's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You're making me start to question whether I should even let you outside.”

That sparked a laugh and Charlie kept laughing until it jarred his arm leaving him caught somewhere between mirth and dire pain. “I couldn't help it. It was shiny.”

A quick scan of the surrounding area found what Charlie had apparently been looking at. It was a crystal sculpture, shattered, but based on the pieces, Don thought it might have been some sort of flower. “Yeah, Buddy,” he said, “We gotta do something about the way your mind wanders.”

Comments

[windscryer.livejournal.com]

“I couldn't help it. It was shiny.”

Charlie's life motto right there. Though his definition of 'shiny' may vary from the norm. :D

LUUUUUUUUUU. THIS WAS MADE OF WIIIIIIIIIIIN.

*GLOMPLES AND PETS AND TAKES HOME AND STUFFS IN A JAR* :D