A Numberless Equation

Title: A Numberless Equation

Author: Prentice

Rating: PG-13; FRM (Fan Rated Mature)

Warnings: Incest, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Violence, Foul
Language, Mild Sexual Content

Pairing: Don/Charlie; implied Don/Kim, Don/Terry

Spoilers: Everything Up to Counterfeit Reality

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pre-Slash

Series: None

Archive: Ask first, please.

Feedback: Is always cherished and appreciated.

Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in,
with the exception of Andrea Richter, are the property of CBS and its creators.
No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are being used here
without permission. No profit was made and no harm was done. The character of
Andrea “Andy” Richter is sole property of the author and should not be used
without prior permission.

Summary: Don Eppes stared at the note in his hands and felt
an overwhelming urge to throw-up. This had to be a joke; a sick, perverse joke.
No one could really expect him to take this seriously, could they?

Author's Notes: First, let me just say 'thank you' to all
you lovely people who reviewed this. You're lovely . Second, I have to say that
Charlie Epps is one of the hardest character's I've ever had to write for. That
is to say, not just because of the math but because he's a simple yet unbearably
complex man. His outside is complex, once you crack the code, his inside becomes
simple. (I hope that makes sense...). Also, let me point out that I don't know
the math very well. I used to be able to grasp numbers fairly well but that went
out the window along with my memory ( I am so Larry) so this time I
thought it better to err on the side of caution and just side step it as best I
could. I'm sure a few mathematicians are howling in rage but I'll bet the rest
of you appreciate my none-attempt. 

Also, I wasn't sure about the exact rules on posting pictures here but if
anyone's interested, I did make a dustcover for this
story. You can find it here:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v172/allerberry/ne_dustcover.jpg

frenchdiamond_1: Yes, already writing a story for it. It wasn't even an hour
after the show was over that I was writing on this. ^.^

Go down deep enough into anything and you will find mathematics.
~Dean Schlicter

Chapter 2

“It really changed my life. When we split up, something changed,
permanently, in me. My heart sort of broke that day, and it will never be the
same.” – Gwyneth Paltrow

Charles Eppes’ hand twitched, fingers clutching onto the piece of chalk
fiercely before letting it slide from his fingers and onto the small tray at the
bottom of the blackboard. He’d been working on the equation again. The
equation. P vs. NP. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. He couldn’t seem to stop
the numbers, algorithms, and adjacent vertices from running through his mind
repeatedly.

They were all beginning to swirl together, becoming one large cyclone of
information and numbers. Prime numbers, composite numbers, abundant numbers,
whole numbers; they were everywhere, on every surface. They made up the known
universe and everything in it. Charlie knew that; knew that if you went down
deep enough into something that you would find mathematics. Life was math, math
was life. Every time, always.

White-dusted fingers twitched again as Charlie’s forehead furrowed, glazed
brown eyes staring at the chalk lines before him though they didn’t truly see
them or the equation they made up. His mind was slowly ticking off the number of
times he’d won Minesweeper™, an NP-complete problem, and in how many moves it
had taken. The probability that he’d win again the next time he played were
astronomical by most people’s standards. They didn’t phase him, however.

After all, Charlie didn’t play the game to win, not really. He played it to
help himself relax. He enjoyed the exercise of it, the way it helped him collect
his thoughts. The way it allowed him to take a step back and view the entire
picture; helped him focus on his thoughts and feelings even while his mind was
running purely on autopilot; clicking boxes and clearing mines. The numbers on
the screen, the little hints that told him where to click next, where the most
probable spot to move on to would be, was a way to help him… enjoy life, just
for a moment.

Something a which, he wasn’t doing now. Couldn’t be doing now. Probably
wouldn’t be doing for some time.

“Two different worlds,” he murmured, “two different worlds.”

How could Don say that? How could Don say that and act as though it was a
reasonable enough explanation for not telling him, his brother, about an
integral part of his life? A three-year span part of his life.

Definitely, admittedly, Charlie knew he was partly to blame for that. Knew it
because he’d told himself, and his father, that before many times. But, he
couldn’t have helped it then, even if he tried. After all, for a long time,
longer than he’d care to admit to, he had shut himself off from his family. From
everyone. No one understood him or grasped how his mind worked even though they
tried. God knew, they tried.

His mother, especially.

She had always tried, for his benefit and her own, to understand how her
son’s “brilliant” mind worked. She’d go to his tutoring sessions, talked to his
teachers, read books from the library and, once, even went so far to ask Charlie
himself to help her understand. She never had, not fully, not completely, but
Charlie loved her all the more for trying.

She was the only one in his life, now or otherwise, who’d ever done so; which
was understandable when you looked at it from their point of view. For instance,
Alan Eppes, quite simply put, could never fully wrap his mind around what his
youngest son’s mind was capable of. That is to say, though the man was nowhere
near lacking in intelligence or quick-wit and knew that both his sons were
gifted in different ways, he found that it was easier to relate to his oldest
son, Don, whom was so much more like himself – a little gruff and rough around
the edges, though as the years progressed that had slowly softened- than
Charlie, whom took after their mother’s delicate and gentle nature. Charlie knew
this; knew it intimately because his father always had more to say to Don when
they were children than he had to say to Charlie.

And, with Don, it was almost the same, save for a little sibling rivalry
thrown into the mix. He and Don were different, everyone said so. Their
childhoods alone attested to that, didn’t it? They were as different as night
and day.

While he had been pampered and looked after, taken from one special school or
tutor to another, he had watched from a safe, sheltered distance as Don had
become self-sufficient and independent; nursing his own wounds, taking care of
his own problems and, most importantly, becoming his own self-contained,
controlled person.

Don never needed anyone’s help. And, that alone was enough to make Charlie
love and admire his older brother more than words would allow him to express.
Don’s capability was endless. There was nothing the man couldn’t handle. That
was one unvarying fact.

Don was a pillar of strength and support, stable beyond all reason. He was a
statistical anomaly, being that strong. Even when Don was doing what older
brother’s are want to do to their little brothers, Charlie still admired him
because, after it was all said and done with, it was Don picking him up and
dusting him off; ruffling his hair affectionately and telling him they were
buddies. It was Don who, though he never tried to understand, was always there
for Charlie when he needed him. It was Don who Charlie tried his best to impress
and be like. It was Don who Charlie knew he couldn’t live without having around
in some form or fashion.

And, that’s why it had hurt so badly when Don had left, first for Quantico
and then for Albuquerque. It had hurt so badly that Charlie still felt a small
persistent ache in his chest any time he thought about it. It hurt because Don
was Charlie’s absolute; his prime. His number one divisible. Don might not
understand how his mind worked but his older brother understood him. How
the man could just leave him, Charlie hadn’t, and still didn’t, fully
comprehend.

So, yes, their estrangement was partly his fault. When his brother had left,
he’d buried himself in numbers; disappeared into them because they were the only
thing that made sense to him anymore. Don had left, yes, but numbers were still
the same; still constant like Don used to be.

Not anymore, though, not anymore.

It had been silly to think that after all these years apart things would be
the same. Charlie knew the probability of them being so and they weren’t in his
favor, but he’d still allowed himself to hope. To dream, just a little. But, as
he always knew, numbers never lie and his hope had come crashing down around him
tonight.

“Two different worlds,” he murmured, again. Two was a prime number. Two was
Charlie; divisible only by himself and one. One was Don.

Charlie sighed; face scrunching in concentration as his eyes began to
refocus. The blurred chalk lines were once again becoming a equation to be
solved and numbers were swirling in his mind.

He picked up a fresh piece of chalk.

Don might be his prime number, his absolute divisible but right now, that
didn’t matter. P v NP was waiting.

End of Chapter 2