FIC: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 4/?
Title: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 4
Author: Valerie Vancollie (valeriev84 [at] hotmail.com)
Characters: Charlie, Don
Pairings: brief canon mentions of Charlie/Amita & Don/Robin
Rating: 15
Summary: There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college. Don Whump, Charlie Angst!
Betas: aleo_70 & fredbassett
Spoilers: Uncertainty Principle, Vector, Man Hunt, Dark Matter, Finders Keepers, Breaking Point, Black Swan, When Worlds Collide, The Decoy Effect, The Fifth Man, Greatest Hits, Angels and Devils
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Numb3rs characters, items or situations. I only lay claim to the original aspects of the fic.
Part II: Don: Fugitive Recovery
Chapter 4:
Friday, 19:09
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci
Don hesitated a moment more, watching his little brother shift his attention back to whatever problem he was working on, before he turned around and left the office. Something was clearly bothering Charlie, something more than simply being stuck on a problem, but he hadn't wanted to push him. Mostly because it really could be something math related but also because it could be a matter of his little brother not trusting him enough to talk about it with him and, cowardly as it was, he didn't really want to hear that. Not after Charlie's promise not to keep important things from him again after the incident last year with Taylor and his men.
He'd give it a few days, Don decided as he exited the mathematics building and headed back towards the Suburban across the darkening and deserted campus. If whatever was going on was clearly still bothering Charlie on Sunday evening, he'd push for more information. It wasn't like his little brother was currently working on an active case like the last time, so it should be okay to leave it alone for two days.
The worry served to distract him enough that the pain exploded in the back of his skull almost before he sensed the presence behind him. Don went down with a startled cry, stunned by the unexpectedness of the attack. For a second he simply lay on the pavement, fighting to remain conscious, before he felt a hand at his belt, trying to get at his holster. Instantly instinct kicked in and he lashed out blindly with his legs, aiming in the general direction of his assailant in a desperate attempt to prevent himself from being disarmed. The grunt of pain and sudden withdrawal of the hand proved that he'd at least hit his target.
Fueled by a burst of adrenaline, Don rolled over onto his back, a move he immediately regretted as pain and nausea shot through him, followed swiftly by dizziness. Despite that, he reached down and grasped hold of the butt of his Glock, pulling it free in a well practiced move. A sudden flurry of movement to his right, followed by a vicious kick delivered to his side, all but forced him to drop the gun and he was only able to maintain his grip through sheer force of will, knowing that if he lost it, he didn't stand a chance, not with the blurry double vision the first blow had caused.
"Goddamn bastard!" a voice thick with fury exclaimed as Don protectively curled around his injured side, trying to determine if anything had been broken.
"I thought you could handle a single fed," a second voice stated as he felt hands on his right arm.
With a sudden jerk of his limb, Don wrested his arm away from the hands and desperately tried to move enough to bring his Glock to bear on either of the two men attacking him. He'd hardly managed to lift his arm before fingers closed around his wrist and he was backhanded across the face. His head bounced off the pavement, sending waves of fire shooting into his brain from the tender area where he'd been clubbed earlier. Darkness overwhelmed his vision and he must have blacked out for a few moments as the next thing he was aware of was being turned onto his stomach, his gun long gone from his grasp.
Before Don could even think about struggling, one of the two men knelt on his back and he vaguely felt more tugging at his belt. His suspicion of exactly what the man was doing was confirmed a moment later when his right arm was picked up and he felt cold metal snap tightly into place around his wrist. They were using his own cuffs to restrain him! Furious, he pulled his left arm away before they could grasp it and braced it against the ground next to his shoulder, intending to try and buck the man off of him.
The distinctive click of a gun being cocked seconds before something hard was jabbed roughly into his back caused Don to freeze in place instantly.
"Persistent son of a bitch, aren't you?" a cold voice tinged with humor stated as his left arm was grabbed and forced behind his back.
The tone of voice matched the second person who'd spoke earlier, the one who felt like he wore steel tipped shoes. Don hissed between clenched teeth as his arm was twisted before the wrist was cuffed. Whoever he was, and Don suspected the one on his back was the one who'd clubbed him, he'd obviously never heard of the finger tip of space rule used when handcuffing someone. Well, either that or he just didn't care. Regardless of the reason, the steel bracelets had been fastened tight enough that he was sure they'd rip his skin open before long.
Although his vision was still blurry, Don's eyes had finally adjusted enough that he was able to make out more detail than simple vague outlines of shapes. Unfortunately, he lay with the right side of his face pressed into the pavement and the second man was on his right. Not wanting to startle him with the safety off on the gun pressed against him, he was unable to take in his situation visually. From the brief glimpses he'd caught during the struggle, he knew that neither of his assailants wore masks, a fact which didn't bode well for him as they were clearly not worried about him being able to identify them when they were done with whatever was going on here. Neither did the fact that they knew he was an FBI agent and had chosen to attack him anyway. Only three types of criminals directly assaulted a federal agent like this, those too stupid to realize the consequences, those with nothing to loose or those who'd assessed the risk and potential consequences and deemed them worth it to accomplish their goals.
He wasn't quite sure which category he hoped his attackers fell into.
"What do you want?" Don finally demanded, as soon as he was sure his voice would come out as strong and firm as he wanted it to. "What is this about?"
"There will be time enough for all of that later," Shoes stated.
Before he could argue with that, Don felt the gun shift slightly against his spine and he realized that he could do nothing but wait to see what this was all about. At least they were planning on there being a later; that was some good news at least, though he supposed they wouldn't have bothered restraining him if they simply planned to kill him outright. It meant that they wanted something and most likely from him. Briefly he felt a flare of fear that they'd followed him to CalSci before he shoved it aside. If they'd meant Charlie any harm, they wouldn't have waited until he came out of the building to attack, it would have been quicker and safer for them to have done it inside, where less people were likely to notice what was happening.
While it could have meant a 911 call if anyone had been around, Don was almost grateful the campus was all but deserted. The rapid escalation of the struggle to Shoes cocking his gun indicated that these two meant business and he had a nasty suspicion of exactly how they'd have dealt with any unwanted attention.
His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of a hand reaching into the front right pocket of his pants. It took him a second to realize what the man was looking for before the questing fingers closed around his keys and pulled them out.
"Here, double lock those cuffs," Shoes ordered.
The jangling of metal on metal accompanied the handover of keys and seconds later Don felt them tap against his wrists as the handcuff key he kept on the ring was used to ensure that he had no hope of getting out of the cuffs. At least it would also serve the dual purpose of ensuring that the cuffs weren't tightened any further, either on purpose or by accident, and cut off the blood supply to his hands or damaged the fragile nerves.
"Get up," it was the first man, Club, Don decided for lack of a better name.
The gun was removed from his back and the order was followed by a jerk to his bound wrists, forcing his arms upwards and straining his shoulders, conversely pushing his upper body back down against the pavement and he was forced to lift his head least it be scraped against the concrete. The sudden movement caused pain and dizziness to ripple through his skull and he had to fight down the wave of nausea that followed. Yeah, he was pretty sure he had a concussion.
"Stop that, there will be time for that later as well," Shoes declared sternly. "Now get him up before anyone catches us."
For a moment, Don was sure Club wouldn't obey the other man before his cuffs were released and he sagged back in relief, his shoulders still screaming. A moment later, Club's hands were back, but on his upper arms, pulling him upwards. Not trusting the man, he scrambled to get his feet under him, not wanting to fall if Club decided to drop him. The sudden shift in position made the world spin and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. Doing so seemed to help and he was able to open his eyes again a few seconds later though, with the sun low on the horizon and shining in them, it was still somewhat difficult to see things clearly.
He could just make out Shoes standing across from him with a Beretta held by his side. They appeared to be about the same height, though Shoes outweighed him by a good thirty or forty pounds of solid muscle. They also shared a common hair color, but the other man's was longish which surprised Don as he'd half expected to see a military style buzz cut for some reason. He was dressed casually in a pair of black jeans and navy blue short sleeved shirt, which would have served to make him fit right into his current surroundings if there'd been anyone about to notice him.
Don's automatic assessment of the man was cut short as the man who'd pulled him upright released one of his arms. He filed away his observations even as he tried to shake the haze from his mind, wanting his wits about him, so he could figure out the best way to deal with his present situation. Absently he licked his lips, the sharp metallic taste which exploded on his tongue alerting him that the slight throbbing of his lower lip was due to a bleeding cut.
"Let's go," Shoes said, gesturing towards the parking lot with his gun.
The knowledge of how much more difficult it would become for his team to find him if he were transported somewhere else warred within Don against the growing suspicion of how his two assailants would probably deal with any innocents who might happen across them if they stayed. His brief hesitation was met with a hard shove between the shoulder blades which sent him stumbling forwards and caused the whole world to tilt dangerously. He'd have ended up right back on the pavement if it weren't for the harsh grip Club maintained on his bicep, keeping him upright.
"Just give me a reason," Club almost begged, a wicked looking knife appearing over Don's shoulder, far too close to his face for comfort. "Bet you'd look real pretty covered in blood."
"Enough! We need him alive and in reasonably good condition if we want to get the professor to cooperate."
Don turned his head to face the new voice as soon as the knife was lowered and found himself staring at a man who looked suspiciously like a federal agent between the suit he was wearing and the gun holstered openly at his belt. It took a few seconds for the meaning of his words to penetrate his seemingly cotton wrapped mind, but when they did, they sent a spike of fear through him. 'The professor,' it was too much of a coincidence for that to refer to anyone other than Charlie. From the sounds of it, his little brother had something, or knew something, these men wanted and they were hoping to use him to obtain it. They were planning to use him to force Charlie's hand in the matter.
Rage exploded within him at the thought of these men even interacting with his little brother and adrenaline shot through him as all of his protective instincts kicked into full gear. Without stopping to fully think about what he was about to do, or to give his assailants any time to anticipate his actions, he lifted his right foot and brought it down hard on Club's instep. The man gave a cry of pain and his grip on Don's upper arm loosened. Not waiting for more, Don wrenched himself free from Club's grip and started to twist away, intended to ram Shoes with his shoulder before making a break for the nearest building and use it for cover before Suit could reach his gun.
Even though, on some more rational level, Don knew his plan was a foolish one and that the odds were seriously stacked against him, he growled in frustration as he felt Club's hand close on his shoulder once more, spinning him around. His whole world titled alarmingly once more and he barely caught the silver flash of the knife's blade as it arced through the air, coming directly at him. The white-hot agony of a blade entering his body flashed through Don before the pavement rushed up at him once more and he cried out before he could stop himself.
"No!" Suit exclaimed, his voice barely discernable over the rushing in Don's ears. "We need him alive!"
"Relax, he's not critically injured," Club retorted.
The agony seemed so real, so all consuming, that it was with a start that Don realized it was a memory instead of pain from a current injury. Yes, a fiery trail burning across his ribs and the sticky feel of blood indicated that the blade had made contact with his body, but the knife hadn't actually been thrust into him as had happened the last time with Radovic.
"We don't have time for this," Shoes interrupted before the argument could escalate any further. "Put the blade away and pick him up, we leave now."
Once again, Don found himself hauled to his feet and supported by Club. He wasn't sure why they bothered as he seemed to keep ending up on the pavement anyway. He was becoming quite familiar with it, much more so than in all the years he'd come to CalSci. Ironically enough, his head seemed to have cleared somewhat and he was able to steady himself quickly this time. As if sensing this, Club pulled a gun out and jabbed it viciously into the junction of Don's neck where it met his jaw, effectively silencing him as well.
"Told you he's more trouble than he's worth," Club pronounced, the tone of his voice causing Don to frown.
Although he didn't recognize the man's voice, it was starting to become more than clear that the man knew him. Don wanted to turn his head so he could get a good look at Club's face and see if he too knew the man, but the gun still digging into his jaw forced him to reconsider. It wasn't worth the risk at the moment, but as soon as possible, he'd take a good look. Perhaps if he knew exactly who Club was, he'd be able to more accurately assess his present predicament.
"I don't know," Shoes stated, looking at him consideringly and Don remembered the amusement in his voice earlier when he'd held him at gunpoint to allow Club to cuff him. "He's got spirit, I admire that."
"Yeah, until it gets someone killed," the words were snapped out, fairly dripping with rage as Club jabbed the gun brutally against his neck, forcing his head back.
Okay, he'd definitely met Club before and, from the sounds of it, been forced to kill someone close to him. Don closed his eyes as he realized that he probably wasn't going to walk away from this one. Regardless of what the others may have planned for him and Charlie, he didn't think this one was going to be satisfied with anything short of his death. A slow and painful death too, from the look of things.
"Besides, it confirms Blakely's suspicions," Shoes continued, completely ignoring Club's response. "And makes his decision to take this one out of the equation now, before he has a chance to cause any serious damage, a good one."
"Can we finish this conversation somewhere more private before we're spotted?" Suit demanded uneasily.
"We're going," Shoes stated almost soothingly before he tossed something at Suit. "Here, move his car."
Don had just opened his mouth to protest, thinking of the weaponry and specialized equipment kept in the Suburban, when Club pulled the gun from his throat. Seconds later, he found himself spun around again only to find a fist rushing towards him. He managed to move his head slightly, staying conscious long enough to feel the majority of the blow catch him in the temple instead of his left eye before he finally lost the battle and darkness swallowed him whole.
Chapter 5