Disclaimer: Claiming I owned Numb3rs or its characters would surely be crossing the line of legality, so for the record, I'd like to state that I don't own the show Numb3rs or its characters and that any names, characters, places and incidents that you'll come across in this story either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Timeline: early season 3 (pairings: Charlie / Amita, Megan / Larry, Don and Robin recently broke up)
Rating: I rated it T, because I'd say there's nothing too graphic in this. You should be warned though that there will be violence depicted.


Chapter 1: A Warning

When his cellphone rang, Charlie was strongly tempted to ignore it. It wasn't easy to find his focus these days, and now that he'd actually managed to work with concentration for a while, he was reluctant to give in to anything that would prove a disturbance. Then, however, he realized that the ringing had already made him lose his train of thoughts, so now the best solution probably was to deal with this – and not forget to turn off his cellphone afterwards.

"Yes," he replied, not caring to suppress the annoyed tinge in his voice that was letting the caller know he was interrupting.

"Is this Dr. Charles Eppes?"

"Speaking," Charlie said rather curtly. "Who is this?"

"Aaron Riordan was committed to a mental institution," the voice said, and it took Charlie a moment to make sense of the words. Once he had, though, he felt goose-bumps on his forearms, and a shudder ran down his spine.

"Who is this?" he asked again, but the annoyance had left now, and there was only alarm to be found in his voice.

"Did you understand what I was saying?"

Well, yeah, but that didn't help him in figuring out what this ominous person was meaning by his words. "Are you threatening me?"

"Riordan was committed to a mental institution," the speaker repeated, "but they know other methods to silence people, and they've been using them, too. That's all I can say." With that, he ended the call.

Charlie heard the beeps of the disconnected line, and for a moment, he wasn't sure whether it was still his phone or whether he was suffering from tinnitus, whether his brain had decided to disconnect itself and just wait for the world outside to start making sense again.

Making sense. That was what he needed to do, he needed to figure out what this phone call meant, and for that, he first needed to establish the caller's identity.

The number on his display didn't tell Charlie anything, and when he googled it, he understood why. The call had come from a public payphone in Downtown Los Angeles, so there was no telling as to who the caller had been, and Charlie felt a jittery sensation awakening in his guts. What was going on here? Why was he suddenly getting anonymous late night calls from public payphones?

He needed to talk to Aaron, he decided, but felt that his mouth had become dry. If the caller's information was correct, if Aaron had been committed to a mental institution, would he be allowed to receive phone calls, and then at this hour?

On the other hand, they couldn't just take away his cell-phone. Or could they?

He shook his head, closing his eyes with exasperation. He was getting paranoid. He'd talked to Aaron only yesterday, and there had been no mention of him about to be committed anywhere. And even if the caller had told the truth, then Aaron would have called Charlie and told him the news himself, right?

Unless, of course, they hadn't let him...

He shook his head again, more vehemently this time. He needed to get to the bottom of this, otherwise he'd lose himself in these conspiracy theories, and then they would have every reason to commit him.

It only took him a few seconds to find Aaron's contact information, far less time than for the call to connect. And when it did, all he heard was the recorded message of Aaron's mailbox.

After a moment's hesitation, Charlie ended the call without leaving a message and had to find that the finger pushing the button was trembling. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to level himself. He needed to go about this rationally, there was no reason to panic. It was late at night, Aaron had probably gone to bed, it made sense that he would have turned off his phone.

He nervously licked his lips, trying to ignore the goosebumps on his forearms. Just be rational about this, he repeated in his mind. After all, he did have the necessary means to figure out whether the caller had been telling the truth, for that means was the world wide web. But even though Charlie prided himself on his research skills, he couldn't find any report on Aaron having been committed until, after almost half an hour, he gave up his search.

Then again, he knew that the fact that his search had come up empty didn't have to mean anything. Who knew, maybe the story simply hadn't made the news yet. After all, Aaron was not that prominent a figure. Or, and Charlie felt sick when he realized that this was the answer he was leaning towards, someone might have made sure that the press would stay out of it.

For a moment, he pondered calling the mental facilities in the area, but then decided against it. Chances were that they wouldn't tell him anyway if Aaron had been committed there, so the only goal Charlie would have achieved by that would have been to put a bulls-eye on his back.

He felt another shudder run down his spine. It was the truth, wasn't it? If they found out that Charlie was making inquiries in this affair, if they felt threatened by him – wouldn't they do anything to stop him? For as much as he would have liked to believe that he didn't have any reason to worry, he couldn't just ignore all the smaller and bigger hints that his mind was combining in a way that was supporting the thesis that he very much did have reason to worry. Why was Aaron not answering his phone? Had he really been committed to a mental institution? And if so, how did Charlie's mysterious caller know about the fact? And even more disturbing: why would he call Charlie to give him that information?

He ran his hands across his face and found he needed to sit down, his legs were shaking. At the same time, he told himself not to jump to conclusions. Yes, it was possible that the caller was telling the truth, but he had no way of knowing that, so it made sense to make some sort of case analysis, to examine both the thesis that the caller was telling the truth and the antithesis, that he was lying.

So if the caller had been lying, that would raise several questions that needed to be answered. First, why would he bother to make this story up? And how did he know about the connection between Charlie and Aaron, how could he have known that his words would hit Charlie as hard as they had? And if it was a lie, then why did Aaron not answer his phone?

Well, he had a plausible explanation for that, Charlie told himself, the late hour, so the lying-thesis could be upheld for the time being. Now what about the truth-thesis? It would still pose the question of where the caller had gained his information, but chances were that he'd stumbled across this matter through his job. That, however, still didn't answer the question of whether his words had been meant as a friendly warning or as a threat. But even if they'd been a friendly warning, wouldn't that mean that Charlie still had reason to feel threatened? They know other methods to silence people, and they've been using them, too, the caller had said, and the memory made Charlie's heart beat faster. That was the real problem, wasn't it? That Charlie knew he did have information, he did possess knowledge that had the potential of bringing about the downfall of other people, people that might not shrink back from silencing him, as the caller had said. Maybe that was what had been done to Aaron as well?

Or maybe, he was being paranoid, and maybe paranoia was what had made Aaron seek professional help. Given what he'd told Charlie on the phone yesterday, that wouldn't have been surprising. Aaron had sounded rather freaked-out then, and he'd made so outrageous accusations that Charlie had actually told him he was imagining things. Maybe Aaron had eventually recognized that as the truth, maybe that was why he'd let himself be committed?

On the other hand, given what Aaron had told him on the phone also made it rather credible that someone had tried to silence him. And that, in turn, would mean that Charlie would be next.

The thought was making his mouth go dry again, and he felt like someone was sitting on his torso, making it so hard for him to breathe that he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He tried taking deeper breaths, tried expanding his thorax further, but that only gave him the sensation of being about to hyperventilate, and that was when he knew. True, he couldn't tell for sure whether there was anything to the warning, he couldn't tell for sure whether they would come after him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he believed that Aaron had been right, about everything, and if that was the case, Charlie knew he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. He needed to take the necessary actions, and given the risks he was facing, he knew they had to be drastic ones.

He took another deep breath and for a moment felt as though he was standing beside himself. He'd made a decision, that much was true, and he knew in his heart that it was the sensible thing to do. Yet, when he thought about the consequences his decision would bring upon himself, and upon everyone around him, he just couldn't fathom the idea that this should really be happening. What he was about to do would fit so much better in an action movie than in real life, and Charlie had to admit, he had no inclination of becoming the main character of what he feared might soon become his own personal horror show. Looking at the evidence, though, he just couldn't see a better way of dealing with this.

And so, he made his way upstairs to make the necessary preparations. He was careful not to make a sound, for he wouldn't have known what to tell his dad if he woke up and asked him what he was doing. Luckily, all he needed was some utensils, and then he was able to make all the necessary preparations in the garage, where the chance of being overheard would be that much smaller. Still, when he turned on the electric razor, he feared that the sound would wake up his father after all – either that or Charlie's wildly beating heart. The house remained quiet, though, and so, when he'd made sure once again that he had finished his preparations and packed everything he needed, he read the note he'd written one last time. He grimaced. It still didn't seem right to him, but on the other hand, he just didn't know how to phrase it better.

And so, he put the note on the dining-room table where his father would have no problem of finding it in the morning, and let his gaze wander across the room one last time. He felt his throat constrict, but he knew there was no helping it, he had to go.

So then, at exactly 3:14 am, he closed the door behind himself and left.