Drabble Series: "Justice in the Storm"
Characters/Pairings: Charlie/Ian.
Word Count: 500 - 3x100, 1x200.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Violence and character death.
Summary: When the lights came on again, his lover's voice had faded away.
Written for:
numb3rs100, February 2009 Rewind - Candles, Strike, Damages, Storm.
Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs or anything related to it.
Beta: The wonderful
fredbassett and the fantastic
twins_m0m Justice in the Storm
Candles
Outside the FBI, the lights of L.A. seemed to dance under the fine rain. Distorted shapes moved following drops of water like candles, causing the view to become hazy and almost cozy.
It was a city of ghosts and crime. Yet, it held a large portion of life and beauty.
Taking in the fresh air of the night, Charlie walked over to Ian’s SUV. A tasty pizza was waiting for them at some cheap restaurant, but that was all right.
Until someone grabbed his head and hit it hard against the car door.
Bloody vision introduced the darkness of uncertainty.
Strike
In the shadows, there were whispers.
Charlie couldn’t break their code. He could only hear his breathing quickening, his own heart pounding hard like a hammer inside his chest.
An unexpected sound - different, rough, yet calculated - startled him. It evidently surprised the other people in the room - the whisperers - as Charlie’s ears sensed guns being loaded.
A familiar voice… “Game’s over.”
Reactions were immediate - movement, shots, screams of pain and victory. Horror everywhere.
The sound of the first bullet entering someone’s flesh.
“Ian!” Charlie yelled before a cold, blunt object against his confused head made every sound fade out.
Damages
Silence came, shaking Charlie’s memory.
No cuffs held him back anymore; he was free. Once the bag he’d had over his head was gone, the lights of forgotten flashlights were too bright. Instinctively, he covered his face and made his way out of the warehouse he was in, trying not to step on the corpses of the skanks his lover had finished.
But outside, there was reality.
Under the rain, one bastard lay dead. Beside him, Ian’s body had found its final resting place.
He’d been the last candle to go out - or so Charlie wanted to believe.
Storm
Trying to bring him back to life didn’t work. He called Ian many times, ordering him to open his eyes, to tell him that everything would be okay.
But Ian didn’t listen. He didn’t wake up.
Looking at the hole in his chest, his absent expression, Charlie’s lips didn’t want to cooperate. He couldn’t translate his anger into words.
Yet a hand beside Ian trembled. The son of a bitch lying by his side was alive.
Rage were all the motive he needed. Charlie’s hand went for his lover’s gun, took it from his lifeless fingers and soon, justice was done.
One, two, three, four shots.
Charlie didn’t know if it’d been that man, but he was damn sure it felt good to see his blood slide over the concrete.
He wouldn’t have done this for anyone… but it was too late for regrets now.
His heart beats became slower. The gun slipped from his trembling fingers; soft rain became a storm.
He curled up beside the corpses and waited for others to judge his actions - the Bureau, his students, his friends, Don. The punishment was definitely the last thing he cared about.
Living without Ian would be punishment enough.
The End.