Numb3rs AU fic: "Calculate the thought".
.
Title: Calculate the thought.
Dedicated to & written at the request of: Jelsemium.
(part of the Dutiful universe)
Author: Keenir.
Beta: Pygmymuse. Thank you.
Pairings/Characters: Charlie, Alan; thoughts of Val, Don, Michelle Mazur, Officer Morris, Susan.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Charlie forces himself to sit down and think about the situation, and who is the most important to him.
POV: Charlie’s.
Word Count: 1,152.
Spoilers: Soft Target.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Notes: I know people like Charlie - if they are reminded of a painful memory by an ephemeral situation, they’ll try not to think about it…but if the situation sticks around, they have to think about it.
Warnings: none, actually.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
My best course of action may be to give the house to Val and Don. They’ve got more need for it than I do - certainly I don’t want Val hunched -over in Don’s cramped apartment; she deserves better.
And then there’s the issue of issue - which, besides being one of Dad’s favorite topics to remind we who are his sons, I have a feeling its also a big part of why the marriage sits uneasy in my mind.
If they’re married only as long as the older Mrs. Eng is alive, and it’s never more than a union for that purpose, they’re together for Val’s mom’s sake, that’s one thing. But if they keep being as happy together as they are now, even if Val never gets pregnant, then I’ve lost.
I’d have lost a race Don’s never known we were running. I’m the second son, the one who stays in one place and, sorting through messes that would make others pull out their hair and surrender, I instead pull numbers out of - well, not my ass. ‘Little Jacob’ our Aunt Irene used to call me.
Don’s always been on the move, never staying with anyone or anywhere long enough to put down roots - that in and of itself is reason enough for me to have wanted to stand up during the ceremony and object, isn’t it?
But I didn’t say anything.
Not a word. Not a peep.
And it wasn’t for Mrs. Eng’s sake. It wasn’t for Dad‘s peace of mind.
I didn’t even do it for Don.
It was a silence for Val. (Not sitting shiva, just holding my tongue.)
Because she wanted this.
And, really, what could I offer? My teacher’s salary’s fine for me *because* I’m a bachelor with nobody relying on me. I bought the house with savings.
Val’s better off with Don.
Question is, who can I talk to about this? Or even about the conclusion I’ve come to? Not Dad. Definitely not Don or the people he works with. Amita?
Makes sense - she already knows a lot about me and my family, she was at the dinner when Don and Val’d announced they were getting married.
But what should I say? Express my feelings about my brother’s arranged marriage? I don’t trust myself enough to do that, because I just know that I’ll say the wrong thing to or in front of Amita - who’s already told me and Dad that she’s spoken for, a pre-selected husband in the wings - and then I’ll have lost her as even a friend.
Reciprocity and if: considering the give-and-take now and what it might mean. Without them, I don’t think I’d have thought this through this far. And I know I’m not done.
I should be happy for them. Don’s successful, oft-praised, and well-commended and while he’s not on the fast track to Director, Val will never want for anything. And from what I’ve picked up, Val’s excellence at her job is unsurpassed. So am I feeling like this because their schedules will keep them like ships passing in the night even under the same roof, barring such times as when one of us - Dad or me - ending up in the hospital?
No.
Bad thought.
Maybe it’s all my high school feelings about Val - the ones who surfaced when I saw her again, even before Dad dropped the bomb about the wedding - that I never sorted through before. I’m the first to admit to myself that I don’t do well with feelings - look how I handled things when Mom was slowly dying. If Val had shown up and left again, I hate to say that I probably would have left those feelings in their box, put a fresh coat of paint on them; or whatever the right analogy is, I’d have done it.
But I don’t have that option because I don’t have that option, because I was never given that option. And that’s because that that’s not what happened.
So what do I do? I won’t fight Don - for one thing, he’s in better shape than he was back then; for two, it wouldn’t accomplish anything, except make Val angry with me.
Have a heart-to-heart with Val, confessing everything to her? Not sure what that would accomplish other than making everything very awkward for everyone. It is hard to convince myself that I should talk to her about it when I am not really sure how I feel in the first place. I need to figure that out, find out just what the underlying issue is, the deep current within this set. How awkward things would be, between Val and me, and Don and me and Val and Don, that’s not the problem, is it? That’s more the problem I wish it was. And I have to face facts - more specifically this fact.
Deep breath, deep breath.
Okay, take a step back, approach this like any other problem. Yeah.
If Val had -
No, too close, too raw.
If Susan had asked me to help her by marrying her - no, that makes no sense: I was in more danger of being deported than she was. In hindsight, this example isn’t as good as I’d hoped at the beginning of this thought.
What if Dad were dying?
Morbid as that prospect is, it does make the analogy more exact.
If *my* dad was dying, and I asked, would Susan or Amita have been as quick to answer as Don answered Val?
Amita and Susan, not Officer Morris - who was very impressive, but didn’t affect me quite so strongly as they did - or Michelle Mazur - who barely noticed me even when we had that date…to be fair, part of that is my fault, what with my stealing away to spy on Don and the babysitter. So there’s definitely a -
It takes me this long to notice that I’m writing all this down. Variables all accounted for; x,y,z lined up and ready. It’s game theory with a greater inclusion of each variable’s history - strange, I would’ve thought that would have made it exceedingly unwieldy to the point it can’t be used, but that’s not actually the case, I see.
“Hey, Charlie,” Dad says. “Have you seen - ?” and he pauses, both verbally and spatially, right by my chair. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but this looks familiar.”
I start to say that it isn’t, when it hits me: this formula I just set to paper, it’s an advanced extension of - How did I not see it sooner? “You’re right,” I congratulate Dad. Its related to my friendship equation.
“Ha!” Dad says with a triumphant smile. “And you tried telling me you hadn’t done any math work since the Eppes Convergence.”
“Well, nothing of signifig-” and I shut up. That’s it! This is it! *This* is what I can focus on when I’m not helping Don. “Dad, you’re a genius.”
“Hm.”
.~~~~~~~~~~~.
The End(?)
Title: Calculate the thought.
Dedicated to & written at the request of: Jelsemium.
(part of the Dutiful universe)
Author: Keenir.
Beta: Pygmymuse. Thank you.
Pairings/Characters: Charlie, Alan; thoughts of Val, Don, Michelle Mazur, Officer Morris, Susan.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Charlie forces himself to sit down and think about the situation, and who is the most important to him.
POV: Charlie’s.
Word Count: 1,152.
Spoilers: Soft Target.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Notes: I know people like Charlie - if they are reminded of a painful memory by an ephemeral situation, they’ll try not to think about it…but if the situation sticks around, they have to think about it.
Warnings: none, actually.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
My best course of action may be to give the house to Val and Don. They’ve got more need for it than I do - certainly I don’t want Val hunched -over in Don’s cramped apartment; she deserves better.
And then there’s the issue of issue - which, besides being one of Dad’s favorite topics to remind we who are his sons, I have a feeling its also a big part of why the marriage sits uneasy in my mind.
If they’re married only as long as the older Mrs. Eng is alive, and it’s never more than a union for that purpose, they’re together for Val’s mom’s sake, that’s one thing. But if they keep being as happy together as they are now, even if Val never gets pregnant, then I’ve lost.
I’d have lost a race Don’s never known we were running. I’m the second son, the one who stays in one place and, sorting through messes that would make others pull out their hair and surrender, I instead pull numbers out of - well, not my ass. ‘Little Jacob’ our Aunt Irene used to call me.
Don’s always been on the move, never staying with anyone or anywhere long enough to put down roots - that in and of itself is reason enough for me to have wanted to stand up during the ceremony and object, isn’t it?
But I didn’t say anything.
Not a word. Not a peep.
And it wasn’t for Mrs. Eng’s sake. It wasn’t for Dad‘s peace of mind.
I didn’t even do it for Don.
It was a silence for Val. (Not sitting shiva, just holding my tongue.)
Because she wanted this.
And, really, what could I offer? My teacher’s salary’s fine for me *because* I’m a bachelor with nobody relying on me. I bought the house with savings.
Val’s better off with Don.
Question is, who can I talk to about this? Or even about the conclusion I’ve come to? Not Dad. Definitely not Don or the people he works with. Amita?
Makes sense - she already knows a lot about me and my family, she was at the dinner when Don and Val’d announced they were getting married.
But what should I say? Express my feelings about my brother’s arranged marriage? I don’t trust myself enough to do that, because I just know that I’ll say the wrong thing to or in front of Amita - who’s already told me and Dad that she’s spoken for, a pre-selected husband in the wings - and then I’ll have lost her as even a friend.
Reciprocity and if: considering the give-and-take now and what it might mean. Without them, I don’t think I’d have thought this through this far. And I know I’m not done.
I should be happy for them. Don’s successful, oft-praised, and well-commended and while he’s not on the fast track to Director, Val will never want for anything. And from what I’ve picked up, Val’s excellence at her job is unsurpassed. So am I feeling like this because their schedules will keep them like ships passing in the night even under the same roof, barring such times as when one of us - Dad or me - ending up in the hospital?
No.
Bad thought.
Maybe it’s all my high school feelings about Val - the ones who surfaced when I saw her again, even before Dad dropped the bomb about the wedding - that I never sorted through before. I’m the first to admit to myself that I don’t do well with feelings - look how I handled things when Mom was slowly dying. If Val had shown up and left again, I hate to say that I probably would have left those feelings in their box, put a fresh coat of paint on them; or whatever the right analogy is, I’d have done it.
But I don’t have that option because I don’t have that option, because I was never given that option. And that’s because that that’s not what happened.
So what do I do? I won’t fight Don - for one thing, he’s in better shape than he was back then; for two, it wouldn’t accomplish anything, except make Val angry with me.
Have a heart-to-heart with Val, confessing everything to her? Not sure what that would accomplish other than making everything very awkward for everyone. It is hard to convince myself that I should talk to her about it when I am not really sure how I feel in the first place. I need to figure that out, find out just what the underlying issue is, the deep current within this set. How awkward things would be, between Val and me, and Don and me and Val and Don, that’s not the problem, is it? That’s more the problem I wish it was. And I have to face facts - more specifically this fact.
Deep breath, deep breath.
Okay, take a step back, approach this like any other problem. Yeah.
If Val had -
No, too close, too raw.
If Susan had asked me to help her by marrying her - no, that makes no sense: I was in more danger of being deported than she was. In hindsight, this example isn’t as good as I’d hoped at the beginning of this thought.
What if Dad were dying?
Morbid as that prospect is, it does make the analogy more exact.
If *my* dad was dying, and I asked, would Susan or Amita have been as quick to answer as Don answered Val?
Amita and Susan, not Officer Morris - who was very impressive, but didn’t affect me quite so strongly as they did - or Michelle Mazur - who barely noticed me even when we had that date…to be fair, part of that is my fault, what with my stealing away to spy on Don and the babysitter. So there’s definitely a -
It takes me this long to notice that I’m writing all this down. Variables all accounted for; x,y,z lined up and ready. It’s game theory with a greater inclusion of each variable’s history - strange, I would’ve thought that would have made it exceedingly unwieldy to the point it can’t be used, but that’s not actually the case, I see.
“Hey, Charlie,” Dad says. “Have you seen - ?” and he pauses, both verbally and spatially, right by my chair. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but this looks familiar.”
I start to say that it isn’t, when it hits me: this formula I just set to paper, it’s an advanced extension of - How did I not see it sooner? “You’re right,” I congratulate Dad. Its related to my friendship equation.
“Ha!” Dad says with a triumphant smile. “And you tried telling me you hadn’t done any math work since the Eppes Convergence.”
“Well, nothing of signifig-” and I shut up. That’s it! This is it! *This* is what I can focus on when I’m not helping Don. “Dad, you’re a genius.”
“Hm.”
.~~~~~~~~~~~.
The End(?)