blind faith

{ Surface Tension }

Wed, 23 May 2007 00:57:07 GMT

Title: Surface Tension [3/3]
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters/Pairings: Megan/Larry, Don, OC
Rating: K
Word Count: 1,922
Spoilers: Nope, except that Larry left and when he came back he was all ... Larry.
Notes: Megan's POV, first chapter can be found here, and second chapter can be found here.
Disclaimer: If any teeny, tiny part of Numb3rs belonged to me, Larry would have been in the season finale. He was not, therefore I do not.

The balding man sitting beside her in a slightly wrinkled, gray business suit grunted as the jerk of the plane touching down on the runway rudely interrupted his nearly four hour nap. Megan rolled her eyes at the back of the seat in front of her. She felt a portion of the stress from the last six weeks evaporate with the confirmation that she was at least back in California. She allowed her head to rest against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. She could hear the passengers around her rustling papers and books and turning on cell phones, preparing to disembark.

When the small ‘ding’ informed her that they had reached the gate, she clicked her seat belt apart and pulled the small black bag out from under her feet. She silently thanked the DOJ for springing for business class seats as it only took a moment for the five people in front of her to move and she found herself within the white walls of LAX.

Naturally, she stood around for about thirty minutes waiting for her suitcase to come off third to last. She rolled it outside and numbly hailed a cab, reveling in the sticky heat of a mid-May LA night. She allowed the driver to pick up her bag and put it in the trunk as she slid into the backseat.

As different colored fluorescent lights flitted across her face, it occurred to her that if Larry had accepted her offer to stay in her spare room she would be seeing him in a matter of minutes. She stared at the FBI building as the taxi sped past, and found that the detached feeling she felt as the looked at it was neither expected nor something that surprised her. It was Saturday. She would worry about how Monday would go later on.

The cab stopped in front of her apartment and Megan looked up, half-relieved and half-disappointed that there weren’t any lights on. She paid the driver and rolled her suitcase up to the front door and punched in her security code. She almost always took the stairs up two floors, but with her suitcase she allowed herself the luxury of the elevator.

She could tell that Larry had been there as soon as she entered. Her whole apartment was much cleaner and less dusty than it would have been if someone hadn’t cleaned recently. Nothing else indicated that he was living there, at least in the living room and kitchen. She pushed the door to the guest bedroom open slightly and saw some of his stuff piled neatly against the far wall. The bed didn’t look as though it has been slept in at all.

She rolled her own suitcase into her room and dropped her carry-on and purse unceremoniously onto the bed. She noticed one of the pillows off of her bed was missing. Something made her stroll over to the sliding doors that led to her deck. No one was there, but a rumpled sleeping bag and the pillow from her bed lay against the wooden railing. She once again shook her head; the thought that she should be more surprised flashed across her thoughts again.

She went into the bathroom and the fluorescent light that greeted her when she flipped the switch was blinding after the stroll through her dark apartment. She studied herself in the mirror for a few moments, noting that her eyes were bloodshot.

‘Probably from these contacts and the fact that I’ve about thirty hours of sleep in the last two weeks.’ She thought to herself.

She took her contacts out, replaced them with her glasses and pulled her brown hair into a low side ponytail that dropped over her right shoulder. It was curlier than she had worn it in years. She never thought allowing her hair free reign of its natural wave was very flattering for her, but she hadn’t had time to do anything otherwise recently, and had gotten used to it.

She walked to the kitchen, wondering if there would be anything at all in the fridge. She had nearly reached it when the sight of two pairs of keys on the counter caught her eye. One pair was to her Acura, she had never anticipated missing that car so much, and the other was to Larry’s ’31 Ford. Megan’s forehead wrinkled slightly, she knew his car wasn’t in the parking lot.

Impulsively, she grabbed the keys to her Acura, breezed past the bedroom to get her purse where it lay in a heap with her carry-on bag and walked back out of her apartment.

She pointed her car towards Pasadena. She didn’t know why she wanted to go to CalSci, she figured that Larry was over at Charlie’s, but she knew she wanted to stroll around in the moonlight, much like that evening way back in September. That life seemed worlds away now.

She didn’t see any vehicular works of art around the nearly empty parking lot when she pulled into the one nearest the bridge, her favorite spot on campus.

She wandered towards Millikan Pond, pausing once to give someone directions to the astronomy and mathematics building. She laughed inwardly at that, knowing that if the young man had asked for any other building on campus, she wouldn’t have been of any help to him.

She reached the bridge and strolled out a few feet, not quite to the center, but close enough so that after she slipped her black flats off, she could just barely dangle her feet in the water.

The germaphobe in the back of her mind scolded her for putting her toes into a body of water that could very well be completely disgusting. She ignored it and continued moving both of her feet slowly, watching with an odd sense of fascination as the ripples extended in all directions from where her toes broke the surface of the water.

“Those ripples will reach the far ends of this pond. Even though it is impossible to view them with our inferior human eye for more than a few feet.”

Megan paused; the toes on her left foot mere inches from the water. She knew it was Larry; she could never mistake his voice for someone else. She made a motion to stand, but his hand caught the top of her right shoulder, applying the gentlest of pressure. He didn’t say anything, but she looked to her right and saw him taking off his socks and shoes, the hand on her shoulder now being used for balance. She looked back at her toes as he sat down next to her.

They sat in companionable silence for a few seconds before he continued.

“When something disturbs the surface of a liquid, the liquid around said object is depressed, but only until the object breaks the surface tension of, in this case, water. When the molecules are joined once more, the buoyancy of the water surrounding it lifts the depressed liquid. However, it will overshoot its level of equilibrium and continue to oscillate up and down until energy lost to the viscosity of the water finally brings it to rest in its original position.”

Megan finally turned her head and spent a few seconds taking in his face, his eyes, everything all over again. She once again felt tears rush to the corners of her own eyes. She didn’t know when she had turned into such an outwardly emotional person. She looked at his mouth and smiled.

“The up and down oscillations of the water which was originally under the object cause the waves to form which propagate outwards in a circular fashion.” He finished, and then returned her small smile.

“They teach you that at NASA?”

“No. 8th grade Earth science.”

She let out a short laugh, unsure of what she could possibly say, or even what she was supposed to say. After a few moments of an uncomfortable silence, Larry took that burden away from her.

“I had no idea when you were going to get back.”

Her eyes slid shut; she was terrified that he would be upset that she hadn’t even talked to him since he got back.

“Larry, I’m so sorry. Did you get the note? I tried to get my boss to let me …”

“Oh no, Megan,” Larry interrupted her, and she gratefully fell silent, “I only meant that I wish I had known, I would have made dinner instead of coming here to contemplate the stars yet again.”

For some reason that made her eyes water a little bit more.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“You trusted me with your private space, and, if you have not yet discovered, allowed me the use of a pillow and your deck for sleeping over the last few nights. Certainly I could at least provide you with a warm meal for your homecoming.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t ever turn down a home-cooked meal, but you’re welcome to stay at my place, in any room or otherwise, whenever you want.”

The silence they fell into was much more relaxed than the last had been.

“I really am sorry, though.” She couldn’t help herself, “I feel like I should have been the first one here to welcome you home. Well, maybe second, since Charlie would put up a good fight to be first, and I don’t have the heart to beat him up.”

“Please, purge any lingering feelings of guilt from your conscience. Honestly, Megan, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad I had some time to adjust to life back here on this planet. My obsession with the cosmos blinded me to the beauty of life here, the green of the trees, the sting of the sand, and …” he paused and dipped a toe into the water, “… the soft ripple of a pond. I have a feeling I may have disappointed as a boyfriend had I not gotten some distance from human relations upon my landing.”

Megan smiled. He had never referred to himself as her boyfriend, even during that week leading up to his departure where they had spent literally every waking, and dreaming, moment together while not at their respective jobs.

“So, if it won’t complicate your ‘human relations’ even further, can I still be the apple to your inner Isaac Newton?”

Even his eyes smiled at her this time.

“Delighted.”

Finally, at that moment, she felt that even though both of their lives had been turned upside down and their resolves tested in the last few months, they could make it out to the other side.

Larry stood and took her right hand in his left. She looked up at him before following suit. He kissed the back of the hand he held before returning it to her.

“So,” she said, a teasing smile playing on her face, “does that offer for a hot dinner still stand?” They both turned and started walking toward the parking lot, two pairs of shoes dangling from Larry’s left hand.

“Well, that depends. I became quite the chef over the last few months, but the food here doesn’t float as well as it did for me up there. And everything seems to require more work than just adding water.”

This time she laughed out loud and threw her left arm around his neck.

“In that case, do you know of any good Ethiopian restaurants?”

“There is one in particular that I’m familiar with.”

Fin.

*****

Author's Note: So, there it is! I really hoped you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun digging into Megan's mind and trying to imagine what she might have been feeling. And then, given Larry's return, I wanted to include that in how this fic ended. I hope I did the character's justice. I was, and still am, terrified of getting Larry's voice just right. He's a hard character to dig in to, I've found. I was not pleased that Larry was still missing when she got back, so this is my alternate universe that I shall reside in until finally allow them back together on the show.

Random note: I don't know if Megan wears contacts on the show. All I know is that she's been seen wearing glasses a couple times, and for some reason my muse wanted her wearing them when she went to CalSci. So, that's my own interpretation. Whether she does or not on the show is a mystery.

Cookies and candy to my beta, philleegirl, and thanks again for reading!

{ Surface Tension }

Wed, 23 May 2007 00:46:16 GMT

Title: Surface Tension [2/3]
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters/Pairings: Megan/Larry, Don, OC
Rating: K
Word Count: 1,304
Spoilers: Nope, except that Larry left and when he came back he was all ... Larry.
Notes: Megan's POV, first chapter can be found here.
Disclaimer: If any teeny, tiny part of Numb3rs belonged to me, Larry would have been in the season finale. He was not, therefore I do not.

She knew he was landing that day. The feeling of guilt that washed over her when she thought about not being there was so strong that she had to force it out of her mind in order to get any work done. She was sitting on a high steel chair in the common room eating her turkey sandwich lunch when Brikman, a notorious geek from the tech department, walked into the room and announced, “Shuttle’s about to enter the atmosphere! Anyone else want to watch?”

Muttered sounds of disinterest were issued from most of the other occupants of the room.

She froze. She knew that for her emotional health she should just get up, leave the room and assume the best. She started gathering the Ziploc bags she’d scattered around the table in the previous twenty minutes and was ready to turn when she heard a command from Houston to have all the astronauts audibly check that their systems were showing all-go for atmosphere entry.

“Payload?” Came the question.

“All systems go.”

That was all it took. She sunk back into the chair beside her. Now it was real. She sat there with glazed eyes as the rest of the three-man team affirmed that they were go for landing. A camera mounted on the inside of the cockpit showed three men dressed in their orange and white spacesuits sitting in front of a panel full of different buttons, gauges and switches.

She choked and had to physically and mentally concentrate on breathing in and out for a few seconds. She knew that he was going to arrive without her there. She’d told herself as much over and over in the last month. But now something deeper, more primitive seemed to have grabbed hold of her emotions. She watched, unable to tear her eyes from the screen. For the next half hour as the shuttle landed and the astronauts were transferred to the bus, she didn’t remember moving anything except her eyelids. After another long waiting period, the bus was lowered and a metal staircase descended from the door.

By the time that Larry walked down the steps and shook hands with the waiting officials she felt hot trails down both sides of her nose. She noted in the back of her mind that he was wearing some sort of necklace that probably should have surprised her more than it did.

“Reeves!”

She snapped her head towards the door. The SAC’s imposing frame nearly filled the doorway. She couldn’t find her voice to answer.

“Agent Reeves. You were supposed to have your latest assignment complete and on my desk twenty-three minutes ago. And you’re sitting in here watching television?”

She looked down at her hands that were grasping her travel mug of now-cold tea and shaking. She tried consciously to get them to stop, but the more she tried to compose herself, the more a feeling of desperation took hold. She finally managed enough even breaths to allow a few moments of thinking clarity.

“I need some time off.”

“Excuse me, Agent?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

“I just, I’m sorry, sir. I just need an hour or so. Please.” She was beginning to lose her composure again. Just enough of the helplessness she was feeling inside must have been showing in her eyes because the SAC’s stiff frame shifted minutely. He glared at her for several long seconds and then looked over at what was still humming from the television set on his left. Megan dared a quick glance over to the TV where Larry was standing in between his two colleagues, posing in front of video and still cameras for the press. She felt a fresh tear roll out of her right eye and knew it wouldn’t bode well for her job if she didn’t look back at her boss immediately.

She caught his eye just as he turned his attention away from the TV. She flicked the tear that was making its way down her cheek quickly with the tip of her index finger. Either he was feeling particularly giving that day or he knew she wasn’t going to be effective in her current state because he finally broke the silence.

“Fine. You have one hour. But you will stay for an extra two this evening to make up for this lost time. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir.” She said and fled the common room. She lifted her purse out of her desk drawer without even stopping and then headed straight for her car. She slid into the backseat and dug around under the passenger seat for her gym bag that hadn’t been used in weeks. She pulled on her black Adidas sweatpants, a t-shirt from her days at the Academy, her tennis shoes, and the CalSci sweatshirt she had adopted as her own after Larry left it in her apartment one morning.

She stuffed her purse into the empty gym bag and shoved it back under the passenger seat, taking only her keys that, after locking the black sedan she had been assigned – and had come to despise – upon her arrival in DC, she tied to the waistband of her sweatpants and shoved them in her pocket.

And then she ran. Once she exited the underground parking garage she took off down the sidewalk parallel to 9th street heading towards the National Mall. She didn’t bother keeping track of how far she went. She saw a crowd ahead of her at the Independence Avenue intersection. She felt like if she stopped running she would collapse. So she narrowly rounded the corner and ran down Independence. She ran as fast as she could, up to and past her pain threshold. She hit a speed where she knew if she took a misstep she would probably break an ankle.

She passed the Washington Monument and saw a lone tree straight ahead of her in the middle of one of the grassy areas. She finally allowed herself to slow, using the trunk of the tree to finally bring her to a stop. She must have been running faster than she knew, because when she brought her right hand away from the bark, several spots of blood were seeping out of her palm. She sank to the ground and leaned against the trunk. She barely grazed the wounds on her hand with her left middle finger. It stung. Logic would have told her to keep from putting too much pressure to avoid the pain, but instead she wrapped her left hand against her right palm and squeezed. It brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes, and this time she allowed the sobs to take over. Every time guilt threatened to overwhelm her she pressed her hands together harder, and somehow it was transformed into a type of pain she knew she could tolerate.

Her tears stopped long before the dry heaves finally subsided and she was able to lift her head from where it had come to rest on her forearms. She looked at her right palm. The pressure from her left hand had stopped the blood, but small, angry patches now stared back at her. She slide her eyes up to check her watch and knew she had to start back if she was going to look anywhere near decent for the office in time. She looked down at her hands again – she would stop for some triple antibiotic and gauze on the way back - and then at the CalSci logo on the sweatshirt she was wearing. She smelled the collar. She already knew that after at least four washings since he’d last worn it no remnants of his smell were left. But for some reason, at that moment, she could sense it again.

*****

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! Only one left, which will be posted in a day or so. Being the Department of Justice, I couldn't find a physical address that told me exactly where it was, and I'm not from anywhere around there, and have only visited twice. So I went with a mailing address I found. I based her run and the use of Washington, D.C. on that, which, just in case I'm wrong, will explain why I used that instead of Virginia or the Pentagon. If anyone knows anything factual otherwise, please let me know for my future info and use. Thanks!

As always, cheers to my beta philleegirl and feedback is love!

{ Surface Tension }

Tue, 22 May 2007 23:31:08 GMT

Title: Surface Tension [1/3]
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters/Pairings: Megan/Larry, Don, OC
Rating: K+ (the + is because of one tiny word)
Word Count: 1,258
Spoilers: Nope, except that Larry left and when he came back he was all ... Larry.
Notes: Megan's POV
Summary: "so i'll check the weather wherever you are // 'cause i wanna know if you can see the stars tonight // might be my only light"
Disclaimer: If any teeny, tiny part of Numb3rs belonged to me, Larry would have been in the season finale. He was not, therefore I do not.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please ensure that your seats and tray-tables are in their full upright and locked positions as we begin our final descent into Los Angeles. Local time is 6:55 pm with a current temperature of 71 degrees and scattered showers…”

Megan tuned out the flight attendant as she felt the familiar prick of tears creep up her nose and into the corners of her eyes. She sniffed and demanded herself to get it together. Any distorted fantasy she had ever had of being asked to take a position at headquarters in DC had been destroyed over the last month and a half. She couldn’t remember feeling so cold or alone in her entire life. She’d been ordered not to have outside contact with anyone for the duration of her assignment. She knew that Don was the only one getting any updates on whether she was still alive or not, and he was not allowed to pass any of that information along.

When she asked permission about a month ago to send an e-mail to Larry explaining, in what she promised would be the vaguest of terms, why she wasn’t waiting for him when he got back from the ISS her job had been threatened.

That day was a low. It was at that moment that she wasn’t working with anyone, despite the fact that there were other members on the task force. They never talked to her, or anyone else for that matter, unless it was about their assignment. She buried herself in the work, trying to keep the pressing loneliness at bay for as long as possible.

***

“Agent Reeves, are you actually asking me to allow you to breech our security so that you can send an e-mail to your boyfriend?” The way the SAC had spit the last word made her flinch.

“Sir, he’s going to get back from almost five months aboard the ISS without any idea where I’ve gone. And he’s got NSA security cleara…”

“Agent, I don’t care if you’re having an affair with the director of the NSA himself. You will not contact anyone outside of this task force. Do you understand,” he was almost shouting now.

She had no choice but to allow her shoulders to slump a bit further forward than she usually kept them and mutter the obligatory,

“Yes, sir.”

That evening, right after she left the office, she was driving back to her utilitarian apartment with a feeling of despair when she spotted a salon. It was much nicer than what she’d allow herself under normal circumstances, but she found a parking spot a few blocks away and walked back to it. She asked for their best stylist and waited an hour and a half for his last appointment of the day. She didn’t know what gave her the idea. All she knew was that she needed to do something drastic; something completely for herself that would probably piss her boss off, even if he never said anything about it.

She’d left John completely satisfied with her new milk chocolate brown hair.

She walked back to her car in silence, overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness. She stopped suddenly when she saw a pay phone a few steps to her left. She would probably be dismissed from the FBI if anyone saw her pick it up. She pretended like her cell phone was ringing which gave her an excuse to dig around her purse for about ten seconds and at the same time scan her surroundings quickly for any particularly incriminating black sedans. She talked to whoever it was she imagined calling her and leaned casually against the side of the phone booth.

After a couple minutes she started repeating herself and looking at the phone several times as if reception was failing quickly. She said, rather loudly,

“Hold on, Sir. I can’t hear you very well. I’ll call you right back on a pay phone!”

She picked up the receiver and simultaneously dropped four quarters into the phone. She dialed Don’s cell phone number with her middle three fingers, trying to shield anyone who might be watching from seeing the numbers she pressed.

‘Stupid,’ she thought, ‘if anyone is watching they’ll just get a trace on the number.’

She prayed to whatever divine being was out there that this wouldn’t be the case as she waited three rings for Don to finally answer.

“Eppes.” Came his quick idea of a greeting. Not that she could give him any shit for it, as she answered her phone in the same manner. The profiler in her noted that he sounded more than a little stressed.

“It’s me.” She said, trying to keep any sort of incriminating names out of the airwaves.

“Wh … Megan?”

“Seriously, say my badge number while you’re at it.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re not supposed to be talking to me, are you?”

“I’m glad your investigative skills haven’t completely disappeared in my absence. I need you do me a personal favor.”

“Yeah, anything. As long as you promise I’ll keep getting those one-sentence e-mails every Sunday telling me that you’re still alive and ‘should be rejoining my team soon.’”

“I need you to write something for Larry explaining why I won’t be there when he gets back. I tried to get my boss to allow me to send him an e-mail, but he pretty much told me if I did I’d be fired.”

“So you’re calling me instead? You know, I already had to go through hell to find you. Don’t make me have to find another profiler.”

“Shut up. Just say you’ll do it. Please, I don’t know how else to tell him.” She tried her best to keep her voice even, but desperation was getting the best of her. Don must have caught the slight lurch in her voice.

“Of course. Where do you want me to leave it? Or I could give it to Charlie?”

“No. Leave it in my apartment. There’s a spare key in my locker at work. Tell him that I know he’ll probably stay at Charlie’s house, but give him my key in case he wants somewhere quiet. And be sure to tell him to go by there so that he actually finds the note.”

“Anything specific about where you are?”

“No. I know I can’t tell him that. And if I had a date for either one of you, I’d tell you, but I have no idea. Just tell him that I wish could be there to see…” she had to trail off because she was able to see tears begin to swim at the bottom of her eyes and her voice wavered dangerously.

“Hey. You’re strong enough for this. We all understand. If you can give him your blessing to go off for six months, I’m sure he’ll understand better than any of us. Okay?”

She didn’t respond, but their companionable silence was enough to convey to him that she hadn’t ever asked to leave LA, and desperately wanted to return.

“Alright, you need to go so that you’ll still be my second-in-command sometime soon. Hang in there.”

She knew it was for her own good, but he hung up before she said could say anything else. She let the receiver slide away from her ear and hung it up a little slower than was probably smart given the fact that she was supposed to be acting anything but suspicious.

She fell asleep in a chair behind her telescope that night.

***

Author's Note: Feedback is love! Especially if you want the last two chapters.

Only joking. Anyway, I actually starting writing this to try and keep my depression due to the lack of Megan and Megan/Larry at bay. I finished it last Friday morning, because I didn't want the ending, and my inspiration for this story I'd been writing, to be messed up by Megan's actual return on the show. So, this whole thing was written pre-season finale, and much of the early parts of the fic were done even before Larry's return. I was actually kind of pleased that I got to see Larry's state of mind upon his return, because it influences the later parts of the fic. Which will be posted within the next few days.

As always, huge, gigantic thanks to my beta philleegirl. You are teh awesome. I really appreciate it. And also to my beloved Ella, who constantly reads this stuff, even though I can't convince her to watch the show. She also gave me the title, which was literally the last thing I came up with before posting. Love you, dear.

Thanks for reading!

ETA: I forgot to mention why I decided Megan's hair gets dyed brown in this part. Since this part was written before the actal episode aired, I got the idea from the Great & Powerful Sir Nicholas Falacci and a picture he posted during the filming of The Janus List (Nick's post + photo found here.) Lighting led me to believe that Diane, and therefore Megan, had brown hair after she got back, and I really enjoyed coming up with an explanation for that. Even though I have since discovered it was just lighting, I thought it was a good part of the story and wanted to leave it in. I think Megan would like it over here with me in the world of brunettes.

(Photo = Not mine. I know Nick likes to make sure that they stay copywrited as his, so I just thought I'd be safe and mention. I love you, Nick. Please keep giving us behind-the-scenes shots. It makes my day when you do.)

{ Haphazard }

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 19:34:36 GMT

New fic that I actually like.

Title: Haphazard
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters/Pairings: Larry/Megan, Charlie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 450
Spoilers: Not so much. I guess could either be seen as a "before Larry left" fic or perhaps a future fic after he returns. I'll leave that up to you.
Notes: Charlie’s POV
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish Numb3rs was mine. It is not.

I’ve known Larry for over a decade, and I’ve seen him in a few relationships. Most of the time his cosmological allusions are met by raised eyebrows, a small smile and an “oh” or perhaps the occasional “I see,” followed by an uncomfortable silence. But not FBI Agent Megan Reeves. Almost paradoxically, she’s by far the most gorgeous woman that Larry’s ever been with. Whenever he pulls out some reference to the M-57 nebula or the seemingly endless nature of the universe, Megan’s eyes glow a little bit brighter. Without fail, she will gravitate a little bit closer to his side and ask, with what I can only describe as a slightly seductive tone, what exactly he means and continue to pay rapt attention until she truly understands. It’s as if she files away the random little facts she learns for use later on. I’m happy for them; they seem good for each other, healthy even, especially for Larry.

The other day I wandered in to his office absorbed in a recently published article on Feynman that I wanted to share. The sound of his voice explaining a new theory to someone drew my eyes away from the paper I was carrying. He was with Megan on the opposite side of the room facing a chalkboard and looking away from the door I had just come in. Larry was using one hand to follow various arrows from one series of numbers to another while the other was down by his side, fingers easily twisted with hers in a haphazard way. Megan was half-sitting on the edge of his desk, completely absorbed in what he was saying. Once he reached the last set of numbers and fell silent she shook her head slightly and said, “That’s brilliant.”

It struck me that Larry’s cheeks didn’t even color at this praise. He just smiled at her. She said that she ought to get back to the office, so he leaned down slightly and left a lingering kiss on her left temple. Simultaneously, she brought their tangled hands up to her mouth and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. I felt suddenly as though I was intruding on some deeply intimate moment, and even more so when they both pulled back and locked eyes for a second. Whatever passed between them in that instant seemed as if committing it to words would undermine its significance. Just as quickly as it began, Megan stood, turned and said brightly, “Hey Charlie!” I responded in the like but watched, fascinated, that even as she moved away, her hand pulled back and his forward until the physical distance forced their fingers to slide apart.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my ever-wonderful beta phileegirl. You are a grammar savior.
I hope you all aren't quite as desperate for Megan and Larry to be back together as I am, because it's rather agonizing. Feedback is love and thanks for reading!

fic

Fri, 23 Feb 2007 06:03:11 GMT

I wrote a short Numb3rs drabble. Of the Megan/Larry variety.

Title: Edge of a White Petal
Pairing/Characters: Megan/Larry, Colby
Rating: PG
Summary: She always liked flowers better than diamonds anyway ...
Word Count: 300
Spoilers: Killer Chat, I guess. Since Larry's in space.
Notes/Warnings: Cheese ahead. And this is the first fic I've ever posted in a public forum. Try not to laugh too hard.
Disclaimer: Numb3rs is so far from mine, it's sad. I'm not making any money off of this.

Colby and David had been out of the office all day Wednesday, so it didn’t take long for Agent Granger to come strolling over to Megan’s desk on Thursday morning.

“Nice flowers,” he said, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

She willed her cheeks not to redden, and reflected on the fact that the bouquet she found waiting for her on her desk after lunch meant so much more to her than the last Valentine’s Day gift she had received within a relationship.

Three years and one day ago, her ex-boyfriend had taken her to an expensive restaurant and presented her with a diamond necklace. She had taken great pleasure in selling that necklace less than two months later, after she found him cheating on her with the secretary from her office. She had used the money to buy a plane ticket to LA for an interview with an agent by the name of Don Eppes. A friend had tipped her off that he might be looking for a new psychological profiler. In her opinion, LA was even better than if she had been offered a job at headquarters in DC – it was much warmer in California - and was a huge career step-up from the Springfield field office.

She found herself inexplicably thrilled to see Larry’s messy scrawl on the note, which simply stated that he didn’t find it reasonable that he should be exempt from buying her flowers on their first Valentine’s Day together because he was “out of the country.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile for a moment.

“Thanks, Granger,” she said brightly, and allowed the top of her index finger to graze the edge of a white petal gently before returning to the computer screen.

Author's Note: So many thank yous to philleegirl and izhilzha for being awesome beta's. (Not to mention the numerous friends I forced this upon.) And to bubbleslayer for her fic Love From The Stars, which put this idea into my head. Thanks for reading!

{24} Numb3rs - Longshot

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 05:01:09 GMT

{24} Numb3rs (Longshot)

Teasers

Longshot

1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24.

Credit
Screen Captures - Numb3rs Online

{ } Comment
{ } Credit (either foiaveugle or white_ocean).
{ } Please don't hotlink.
{ } Blank icons are not bases, please don't alter.
{ } Requests for modifications or icons are welcome!

If you want to keep up with my icons, feel free to friend my icon journal. Thanks!

{37} Numb3rs - Two Daughters

Sun, 01 Oct 2006 04:31:34 GMT

{37} Numb3rs (Two Daughters)

Teasers

Two Daughters

1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24.
25. 26. 27. 28.
29. 30. 31. 32.
33. 34. 35. 36.
37.

Credit
Screen Captures - Numb3rs Online
Brushes - Gorjuss

{ } Comment
{ } Credit (either foiaveugle or white_ocean).
{ } Please don't hotlink.
{ } Blank icons are not bases, please don't alter.
{ } Requests for modifications or icons are welcome!

If you want to keep up with my icons, feel free to friend my icon journal. Thanks!

{60} Alias Finale Icons

Wed, 24 May 2006 20:25:29 GMT

{60} Alias (Reprisal & All The Time In The World)

No teasers so as not to spoil those who haven't seen the finale yet!

Reprisal

1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24.

All The Time In The World

25. 26. 27. 28.
29. 30. 31. 32.
33. 34. 35. 36.
37. 38. 39. 40.
41. 42. 43. 44.
45. 46. 47. 48.
49. 50. 51. 52.
53. 54. 55. 56.
57. 58. 59. 60.

Credit
Screen Captures - Spy Caps
Brushes - Gorjuss

{ } Comment
{ } Credit (either foiaveugle or white_ocean)
{ } Please don't hotlink
{ } Blank icons are not bases, please don't alter. (Requests are welcome, but no guarantee on how long it may take.)

If you want to keep up with my icons, feel free to friend my icon journal. Thanks!

My last set of new episode Alias icons, tear. I won't go in to how I feel about the finale, because ... there's nothing I can do about it. Enjoy the icons, I hope they do the show justice. Bye Alias, I love you!

Updates will continue with other shows (Numb3rs, Bones, Grey's Anatomy, etc ...) and older Alias episodes that I think deserve to be iconed when time allows! Thank you all so much!

Fri, 19 May 2006 22:23:26 GMT

{60} Alias (I See Dead People and No Hard Feelings)
{14} Numb3rs (Undercurrents)

Teasers

I See Dead People
1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
9. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.
17. 18. 19. 20.
21. 22. 23. 24.
25. 26. 27. 28.

No Hard Feelings
29. 30. 31. 32.
33. 34. 35. 36.
37. 38. 39. 40.
41. 42. 43. 44.
45. 46. 47. 48.
49. 50. 51. 52.
53. 54. 55. 56.
57.

Undercurrents
58. 59. 60. 61.
62. 63. 64. 65.
66. 67. 68. 69.
70. 71.

Credit
Screen Captures - Spy Caps and Numb3rs-Online
Brushes - Gorjuss
The quote on 25 comes from Erin Daily and her fabulous Alias recaps at Television Without Pity.

{ }Comment
{ }Credit (either foiaveugle or white_ocean)
{ }Blank icons are not bases, please don't alter. (Requests are taken, but no guarentee on how long it may take.)

Feel free to friend my icon journal. Thanks!