FIC: Holding on to a lie, Part 19 (Ian, Charlie/Colby, Amita, Don, Megan, Liz, OMC, PG-13)
Title: "Holding on to a lie"
Series: Holding on to a lie, Part 19
Characters: Ian, Charlie/Colby, Amita, Don, Megan, Liz, OMC.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian shares some data, while Amita tries to make a fantasy come true.
Feedback: I love feedback. Every comment is a cup of coffee that keeps me posting. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or anything related to it. But I do own any OCs.
Beta: The wonderful fredbassett. I love having you as a beta.
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Holding on to a lie
Part 19: “Holding on to a lie”
Driving to the Eppes’ residence wasn’t exactly a great time for Ian Edgerton. As he increased the speed, in spite of the sun shining and filling him with energy, he knew he had made a mistake.
And Ian didn’t like how that felt.
He looked in the rear-view mirror; the day was so calm, yet he was heading towards an absolute disaster.
David Sinclair’s call had taken him by surprise. He had been analyzing what case he’d pick up next, when reality had hit him once again, leaving him speechless. And that wasn’t something that happened frequently.
Now he was trying to get to the Eppes’ house as soon as possible. He’d handle it all, he’d take Amita Ramanujan out of there and save Agent Granger and Professor Eppes from her machinations.
Because if he was right, she had a lot more planned, and it wasn’t good. How the hell hadn’t he seen it?
But Ian’s lips didn’t tremble as he saw the first SWAT team members and the first FBI agents on the street. He parked his jeep and looked around. He noticed Megan with Professor Fleinhardt inside an ambulance, with an EMT taking a look at his ankle. He also noticed David walking around, grabbing his head from time to time. Those weren’t good signs.
Determined to take control of the situation, Ian got out of his vehicle and confidently walked towards Don. His sunglasses shone; his rifle hung from his back. Everyone stared at him.
The attention didn’t worry him. He was there to fulfill a task so he could save the ones he cared about.
“Ian!” Don said when he saw the sniper, and ran towards him. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. So she has them in there?”
“Yeah.”
Megan approached them immediately and said, “She’s under a post traumatic stress disorder that is affecting her entire psychological system. After a month of feeling impotent when it came to deal with the drastic changes in her life, she has had an excess of rage.” Megan took a breath. “Her mind knows that things can’t be the way they were before, but there’s such disassociation that other part of her mind tells her that it’s still possible for her to recover what she had.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction?” Don asked.
“No, it’s a division of the mind in which two opposite views of the world can actually coexist. There’s no conflict between them, there’s no wrong and right. Everything is allowed as long as her world can get its balance back.”
“I’ll get her balanced, no matter what,” Ian stated. “If I’m right, we’ll have to take the professor and Granger out of there faster than ASAP.”
“Why? What do you think?” David said.
“You mean, what do I know.” Slowly, Ian took off his sunglasses. “I ran into her a few weeks ago. According to my records, it was the day after that guy named Garner broke into your house with all of you inside.”
Don’s face said it all; he was astonished, and that was exactly what Ian expected. “What? Where?”
“At the shooting range. I was in the middle of my routine and it seemed strange to find her there.”
“Did you talk to her?” Megan wanted to know.
This time Ian took a deep breath. “Yeah. I asked her why she needed to know how to handle a gun and she said she wanted to get some shooting training because she felt unprotected after what she’d been through.”
“So that’s how she knows how to shoot,” Megan concluded.
“What was she talking about?” Don snapped. “We were on her all the time, we found someone to help her… well, someone who should have helped her… There he is, Berenson!”
In that moment, Liz was parking her car, followed by other agents in their own vehicles. She nodded as she got a fifty-year-old man out of it.
Don ran towards Berenson and grabbed him by his lapels. “You! What the hell did you do to Amita? Do you see what she’s done because of you?!”
“I didn’t do anything, damn it!” Berenson snapped, trying to escape from Don’s hands.
Megan shook her head and said, ironically, “Yes, you didn’t do anything but raping her, just like you did with all those other women you said you were ‘helping?’”
Berenson didn’t immediately answer. He stared back at Megan, and then he said, “What? No! Whatever she did with me, she did it because she wanted to, I didn’t force her at all!”
“Liar!” Don tightened his grip on the old man’s clothes. “You son of a…”
He was about to hit Berenson in the face when Ian put a hand on his shoulder. “Don, he’s not worthy of you, you have to keep your mind clear. Hurting him will only affect you more.”
And then Ian himself turned to Berenson and slammed him against the side of one of the SWAT SUVs. Keeping a hand on the therapist’s shirt, he muttered, “Now, the fact that I hit him has the same physical effect on this son of a bitch but you don’t get to stress yourself, see?”
“Hey, there’s no need to push!” Berenson said.
“I think there is,” Ian responded, getting closer to him, enjoying the fact that the therapist swallowed heavily.
But in a second, Megan was all over Berenson again, yelling, “Where the hell is your experience, your ethics, your damn expertise! How could you survive working for the DOJ for so many years?”
Again, Ian had to be the one to stop someone else. He lifted one arm, separating Megan from the man, and he turned to him one more time. “We’ll talk about what you’ve done later. Now, you’re going to fix this situation.”
Looking into the psychologist’s eyes, he could see that he understood what that meant. “Ok, fine. Send me in. I’ll cooperate,” Berenson whispered.
His words had their effect. Don ran his hands over his face, while Megan folded her arms, but no one complained about Ian’s idea because even if the therapist had made several mistakes, he could also be the only one who might be able to stop Amita.
“Come with me,” Agent Warner said, getting into the back of the SUV. Inside there were a couple of SWAT members working with computers, analyzing the possible moves people were making inside the house.
She simply grabbed a device from a suitcase and turned to Berenson. “Listen to me very carefully. You’re going to go in there with a microphone on. We’ll put it somewhere it can’t be seen so we can have an idea of what’s going on inside.”
“Am I going in by myself?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m going in, too.”
Even if Don looked worried about that idea, he nodded and told Agent Warner to take care. He also thanked her for what she was doing and provided her with the guns she needed.
Soon, both she and Berenson had their protective vests on, the bug was ready and the guns were loaded. Don took the lead and announced to Amita by megaphone that Agent Warner was approaching the house. He didn’t mention Berenson.
As the female agent and the therapist got closer to the residence, Ian starting loading his rifle. “I’m going to the backyard wall. Snipers need to be coordinated.”
Megan, who was by his side, spent a moment in silence, then said, “Is there anything else you can tell us that would help stop Amita?”
Taking a deep breath, Ian responded, “She asked me a lot of questions about guns and bullets, and I answered her with the truth, of course. I never imagined that this would happen.” He shook his head. “However, she asked me something I did think was weird.”
“What?” Megan wanted to know.
Ian turned to the house as the evening arrived. “She asked me what I thought about cookies.”
“I’m not like Patrick, I’m not like Patrick…”
That was the only thing Amita had been saying since Megan had left. As soon as the agent was out of the house, the dark-haired woman had started walking backwards until her back had hit the wall.
Then, she had left her gun fall onto the floor. Grabbing her hair, she had started crying…
And all the time, she repeated, “I’m not like Patrick…”
But Charlie thought she really was like him. Changing people’s lives, making them become what she wanted to, no matter what the consequences were.
“I’m not like Patrick…”
Tired and scared, Charlie watched Colby, who was still handcuffed to the banister. He was trying to get free, but his efforts were useless. Finally, Colby stared back at Charlie, breathing heavily.
They had to stop her. They had to work on her mind, they had to take advantage of her nervous breakdown…
Then she stopped talking.
Silence made Charlie and Colby looked at her again. Amita wasn’t crying anymore. With her eyes fixed on the front door, she slowly got up, wiped her tears and took the gun she had let slip from her fingers a while ago.
She slowly walked towards the table, right beside Charlie. The mathematician held his breath, wondering what was happening.
And then Amita asked, “Do you like cookies?”
He didn’t know what to say. He stared at her, not understanding the purpose of her question.
She repeated, “Charlie, do you like cookies?”
Again, he didn’t answer.
“Tell me, damnit!” She slapped him in the face, taking him by surprise.
“Charlie!” Colby yelled, and tried harder to break his cuffs, but with no sucess.
“Silence!” Amita ordered, as she raised her gun at Colby. “We’re going to share a nice moment here, and you’re not going to ruin it.” Then she turned to her ex-boyfriend. “I’m going to make cookies for you, Charlie. Why wouldn’t I want to greet the man I love with something nice?” Amita said, smiling cheerfully.
Trembling, Charlie watched her go into the kitchen and bring out the ingredients and other things she needed. She left them, went to get an apron, came back and started pouring flour on the table so Charlie and Colby could see her prepare the mixture.
Analyzing her insanity and the way her mind had adapted to a very disturbing fantasy, the mathematician wished everything was a dream, or even a very, very horrible nightmare.
Amita was physically hurt - she had bruises on her delicate skin after falling down the stairs, and her hair and clothes were a mess. She was surrounded by chaos, but she was making cookies - she was making cookies and smiling at it.
She was holding on to a lie.
Series: Holding on to a lie, Part 19
Characters: Ian, Charlie/Colby, Amita, Don, Megan, Liz, OMC.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian shares some data, while Amita tries to make a fantasy come true.
Feedback: I love feedback. Every comment is a cup of coffee that keeps me posting. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or anything related to it. But I do own any OCs.
Beta: The wonderful fredbassett. I love having you as a beta.
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Holding on to a lie
Part 19: “Holding on to a lie”
Driving to the Eppes’ residence wasn’t exactly a great time for Ian Edgerton. As he increased the speed, in spite of the sun shining and filling him with energy, he knew he had made a mistake.
And Ian didn’t like how that felt.
He looked in the rear-view mirror; the day was so calm, yet he was heading towards an absolute disaster.
David Sinclair’s call had taken him by surprise. He had been analyzing what case he’d pick up next, when reality had hit him once again, leaving him speechless. And that wasn’t something that happened frequently.
Now he was trying to get to the Eppes’ house as soon as possible. He’d handle it all, he’d take Amita Ramanujan out of there and save Agent Granger and Professor Eppes from her machinations.
Because if he was right, she had a lot more planned, and it wasn’t good. How the hell hadn’t he seen it?
But Ian’s lips didn’t tremble as he saw the first SWAT team members and the first FBI agents on the street. He parked his jeep and looked around. He noticed Megan with Professor Fleinhardt inside an ambulance, with an EMT taking a look at his ankle. He also noticed David walking around, grabbing his head from time to time. Those weren’t good signs.
Determined to take control of the situation, Ian got out of his vehicle and confidently walked towards Don. His sunglasses shone; his rifle hung from his back. Everyone stared at him.
The attention didn’t worry him. He was there to fulfill a task so he could save the ones he cared about.
“Ian!” Don said when he saw the sniper, and ran towards him. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. So she has them in there?”
“Yeah.”
Megan approached them immediately and said, “She’s under a post traumatic stress disorder that is affecting her entire psychological system. After a month of feeling impotent when it came to deal with the drastic changes in her life, she has had an excess of rage.” Megan took a breath. “Her mind knows that things can’t be the way they were before, but there’s such disassociation that other part of her mind tells her that it’s still possible for her to recover what she had.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction?” Don asked.
“No, it’s a division of the mind in which two opposite views of the world can actually coexist. There’s no conflict between them, there’s no wrong and right. Everything is allowed as long as her world can get its balance back.”
“I’ll get her balanced, no matter what,” Ian stated. “If I’m right, we’ll have to take the professor and Granger out of there faster than ASAP.”
“Why? What do you think?” David said.
“You mean, what do I know.” Slowly, Ian took off his sunglasses. “I ran into her a few weeks ago. According to my records, it was the day after that guy named Garner broke into your house with all of you inside.”
Don’s face said it all; he was astonished, and that was exactly what Ian expected. “What? Where?”
“At the shooting range. I was in the middle of my routine and it seemed strange to find her there.”
“Did you talk to her?” Megan wanted to know.
This time Ian took a deep breath. “Yeah. I asked her why she needed to know how to handle a gun and she said she wanted to get some shooting training because she felt unprotected after what she’d been through.”
“So that’s how she knows how to shoot,” Megan concluded.
“What was she talking about?” Don snapped. “We were on her all the time, we found someone to help her… well, someone who should have helped her… There he is, Berenson!”
In that moment, Liz was parking her car, followed by other agents in their own vehicles. She nodded as she got a fifty-year-old man out of it.
Don ran towards Berenson and grabbed him by his lapels. “You! What the hell did you do to Amita? Do you see what she’s done because of you?!”
“I didn’t do anything, damn it!” Berenson snapped, trying to escape from Don’s hands.
Megan shook her head and said, ironically, “Yes, you didn’t do anything but raping her, just like you did with all those other women you said you were ‘helping?’”
Berenson didn’t immediately answer. He stared back at Megan, and then he said, “What? No! Whatever she did with me, she did it because she wanted to, I didn’t force her at all!”
“Liar!” Don tightened his grip on the old man’s clothes. “You son of a…”
He was about to hit Berenson in the face when Ian put a hand on his shoulder. “Don, he’s not worthy of you, you have to keep your mind clear. Hurting him will only affect you more.”
And then Ian himself turned to Berenson and slammed him against the side of one of the SWAT SUVs. Keeping a hand on the therapist’s shirt, he muttered, “Now, the fact that I hit him has the same physical effect on this son of a bitch but you don’t get to stress yourself, see?”
“Hey, there’s no need to push!” Berenson said.
“I think there is,” Ian responded, getting closer to him, enjoying the fact that the therapist swallowed heavily.
But in a second, Megan was all over Berenson again, yelling, “Where the hell is your experience, your ethics, your damn expertise! How could you survive working for the DOJ for so many years?”
Again, Ian had to be the one to stop someone else. He lifted one arm, separating Megan from the man, and he turned to him one more time. “We’ll talk about what you’ve done later. Now, you’re going to fix this situation.”
Looking into the psychologist’s eyes, he could see that he understood what that meant. “Ok, fine. Send me in. I’ll cooperate,” Berenson whispered.
His words had their effect. Don ran his hands over his face, while Megan folded her arms, but no one complained about Ian’s idea because even if the therapist had made several mistakes, he could also be the only one who might be able to stop Amita.
“Come with me,” Agent Warner said, getting into the back of the SUV. Inside there were a couple of SWAT members working with computers, analyzing the possible moves people were making inside the house.
She simply grabbed a device from a suitcase and turned to Berenson. “Listen to me very carefully. You’re going to go in there with a microphone on. We’ll put it somewhere it can’t be seen so we can have an idea of what’s going on inside.”
“Am I going in by myself?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m going in, too.”
Even if Don looked worried about that idea, he nodded and told Agent Warner to take care. He also thanked her for what she was doing and provided her with the guns she needed.
Soon, both she and Berenson had their protective vests on, the bug was ready and the guns were loaded. Don took the lead and announced to Amita by megaphone that Agent Warner was approaching the house. He didn’t mention Berenson.
As the female agent and the therapist got closer to the residence, Ian starting loading his rifle. “I’m going to the backyard wall. Snipers need to be coordinated.”
Megan, who was by his side, spent a moment in silence, then said, “Is there anything else you can tell us that would help stop Amita?”
Taking a deep breath, Ian responded, “She asked me a lot of questions about guns and bullets, and I answered her with the truth, of course. I never imagined that this would happen.” He shook his head. “However, she asked me something I did think was weird.”
“What?” Megan wanted to know.
Ian turned to the house as the evening arrived. “She asked me what I thought about cookies.”
“I’m not like Patrick, I’m not like Patrick…”
That was the only thing Amita had been saying since Megan had left. As soon as the agent was out of the house, the dark-haired woman had started walking backwards until her back had hit the wall.
Then, she had left her gun fall onto the floor. Grabbing her hair, she had started crying…
And all the time, she repeated, “I’m not like Patrick…”
But Charlie thought she really was like him. Changing people’s lives, making them become what she wanted to, no matter what the consequences were.
“I’m not like Patrick…”
Tired and scared, Charlie watched Colby, who was still handcuffed to the banister. He was trying to get free, but his efforts were useless. Finally, Colby stared back at Charlie, breathing heavily.
They had to stop her. They had to work on her mind, they had to take advantage of her nervous breakdown…
Then she stopped talking.
Silence made Charlie and Colby looked at her again. Amita wasn’t crying anymore. With her eyes fixed on the front door, she slowly got up, wiped her tears and took the gun she had let slip from her fingers a while ago.
She slowly walked towards the table, right beside Charlie. The mathematician held his breath, wondering what was happening.
And then Amita asked, “Do you like cookies?”
He didn’t know what to say. He stared at her, not understanding the purpose of her question.
She repeated, “Charlie, do you like cookies?”
Again, he didn’t answer.
“Tell me, damnit!” She slapped him in the face, taking him by surprise.
“Charlie!” Colby yelled, and tried harder to break his cuffs, but with no sucess.
“Silence!” Amita ordered, as she raised her gun at Colby. “We’re going to share a nice moment here, and you’re not going to ruin it.” Then she turned to her ex-boyfriend. “I’m going to make cookies for you, Charlie. Why wouldn’t I want to greet the man I love with something nice?” Amita said, smiling cheerfully.
Trembling, Charlie watched her go into the kitchen and bring out the ingredients and other things she needed. She left them, went to get an apron, came back and started pouring flour on the table so Charlie and Colby could see her prepare the mixture.
Analyzing her insanity and the way her mind had adapted to a very disturbing fantasy, the mathematician wished everything was a dream, or even a very, very horrible nightmare.
Amita was physically hurt - she had bruises on her delicate skin after falling down the stairs, and her hair and clothes were a mess. She was surrounded by chaos, but she was making cookies - she was making cookies and smiling at it.
She was holding on to a lie.