Disclaimer: Numb3rs belongs to CBS.

A/N: I actually started this way back in November, the weekend Graphic first aired. I was all into the rhythm but I got interrupted when my mum said it's time to go to dinner with my godfather. Darn. Anyway, I'm tired of doing History today so I thought I'd abandon Korea, Cuba and Vietnam and take another stab at this.

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day, mum!

A Harvest reference, along with a bit of Breaking Point coming in.

Tribute

"So, are you doing a slam job on my son?" – Alan

"Charlie and I had our issues growing up, but if there's anything stronger than the bond between brothers, it's the bond between brothers who have become friends. Charlie's my friend." – Don

Peter Lange waited patiently. A wasted hour here and there was worth it in view of a job well done, and this was one job he couldn't afford to be lazy with. Charles Eppes and his math-y self-help book had been making quite the buzz in the publishing and reading world, a surprise bestseller out of the halls of CalSci, and Lange would be the first to write an in-depth profile on the enigmatic professor. And to go in depth, he needed to talk with the mathematician's brother. Friends, if they were true, would never say anything bad about him, let alone a loving father. Sibling rivalry, however, could work for Lange, consciously or not, if he pushed the correct buttons. His audience just loved getting the dirt on new celebrities.

Especially new celebrities with skeletons in their closet.

He did have to admit, though, that the majority of the people he was researching didn't have FBI Special Agents for brothers. Heck, who was he kidding? Most of the people he wrote articles on didn't have the IQ level his current subject did. Sure, Geena Davis, Jodie Foster and apparently Jessica Simpson, were MENSA members but they hardly went to university at 13, if at all.

Lange had his work cut out for him.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

He'd already interviewed Professors Fleinhardt and Ramanujan and throughout the short talk, he couldn't help picture what a strange group the three academics made: The physicist with his head in the clouds who had taught Professor Eppes when he was a kid. Lange couldn't help but smirk as he remembered how immediately uncomfortable his subject had become once he'd introduced himself properly. He was fairly certain that as soon as he'd left, the doctor had called his publisher or publicist, probably both, asking for advice on what to do. Obviously, Eppes hasn't received the answer he'd wanted and Lange had gone about his work with no obstacles or hindrances.

Leaving aside Dr Fleinhardt and Dr Eppes, there'd been the lovely Dr Ramanujan, a woman who hardly seemed to fit the 'geek' profile that the other two embodied to the core. She obviously didn't have anything bad to say about her famous boyfriend although Lange had to admit he was surprised by the sincerity in her, and Fleinhardt's, voice when they complimented Eppes. He may not have had many friends, but the ones he had were true - which was more than he could say for many other celebrities he'd written about.

And of course, there was Mr. Eppes, the professor's father. If he was to be described in one term, Lange would immediately, without hesitation, choose "Papa Bear". Fortunately enough, the older man wasn't blind when it came to his kids, and was quite open on how Charlie the boy wonder was as a 9-yr writer of a friendship equation. Expression. Whatever.

Charming family, he mused. He wondered how the brother was going to turn out…

Speaking of brothers, he spotted a man looking very much like the person he wanted exiting through doors of the federal building. Mr. Eppes had been kind enough to pull out a family picture from his wallet at the end of the interview so Lange had the advantage of being aware of who to look out for. Sure, the family resemblance was there but Lange wasn't in the habit of approaching armed Federal Agents. Armed bodyguards, however, were a whole different ballgame which he'd spent years perfecting.

Tugging his bag on his shoulder again, Lange put on a confident air and moved to intercept his subject's brother.

"Agent Eppes?" he began cautiously to get the man's attention.

"Who's asking?" Clearly, this guy didn't inherit the open and cheerful vibe his brother had. Biochemistry, indeed. Did he look like an academic? This man's caution and wariness were an exact opposite of his brother's unsuspecting demeanour.

"Peter Lange," he replied, holding out his right hand. "I'm from Vanity Fair and I'm writing a profile on your brother. I was hoping maybe we could have a little talk?"

The smirk that graced Eppes' features transformed the man from a cop into someone's older brother. Somebody was getting teased tonight, that's for sure "Vanity Fair, huh? Didn't think your readers would be into reading articles on genius mathematicians."

"No, but they sure will be interested in the young, good-looking professor whose book, The Attraction Equation, is on the bestseller list, to everyone's surprise," retorted Lange. Seeing the man check his watch, he hurried to add, "How about we go get a cup of coffee on me? I'm sure you're a busy man but this really isn't going to take much time."

Five minutes later, they were situated on a bench, steaming cups in hand courtesy of a coffee cart within walking distance of the federal building. As Lange took a sip of what turned out to be surprisingly good coffee, he realized he shouldn't have been surprised. If there was anyone who consumed more coffee than writers trying to reach a deadline, he would have bet on cops.

"If I'd thrown donuts into the deal, would I have gotten more time?" he began congenially.

"I'm a Fed," replied the other man succinctly.

"So muffins, then?" deadpanned Lange.

"What exactly are you hoping to write about my brother?" asked Eppes out of nowhere.

Right. Business time, then.

He dug his tape recorder out of his pocket. "Mind if I record this?" Seeing as how one hand was holding a coffee cup and there was no table in sight, the notebook he'd used for previous interviews would have to remain in his pocket.

He pressed the Record button after the agent shook his head, setting the recorder between them on the stone bench. "What do you mean?" he asked, although he had a pretty good idea what the agent was getting at.

"I doubt you're going to rave about the Eppes Convergence in your article, or list all the awards my brother has won. What are you really trying to find out about him?"

Apparently, the protective streak didn't just run in the father.

"I just want to find out how a mathematician got around to writing a book to help people make friends. Your father himself admitted that Charlie was an awkward kid. So I'm assuming he's the "those who can't do, teach" type?" prodded Lange.

"You've talked with our father?" Clearly, more than one person was fishing for information here.

"Yes, as well as your brother's friends and some of his students. They all seem to like him very much."

"Why shouldn't they?" Lange wondered exactly when the interview had turned into an interrogation with the wrong party asking all the questions. He tried to steer the conversation into the right direction, with the right leader.

"Look, I'm not out to bash your brother. I just want to satisfy my readers' curiosity about the new kid on the block. If your brother is as great a guy as everybody says, you really should have nothing to worry about. Am I right?"

Eppes took another sip of his coffee as he watched the cars pass by on the street, his sunglasses effectively hiding his eyes.

"So, like I asked before, what do you want to know?"

"What was Charlie like as a kid?" asked Lange immediately. "I imagine the whole sibling rivalry thing must have reached a whole new level, what with a genius for a kid brother."

Eppes snorted. "I guess you could say that. But Charlie and I had pretty different interests from the get go. I was into sports, he was into math. Simple as that."

"Is that so?" Lange might not have undergone interrogation training at Quantico but he knew lies, or half-truths, when he saw one. "So having your kid brother finish high school at the same time as you was just peachy?"

Eppes shrugged and took another quick look at his watch. "You want to know what Charlie was like? He was a kid in an adult world. He loved – loves- math and he's always been happiest when he's working on a problem. Not much has changed except for the fact that where before he was surrounded by high school kids who had no idea what he used to talk about, now he's surrounded by people smart enough to actually appreciate his intelligence."

Lange waited a moment. "I still don't understand how a guy who had no friends growing up thinks he can get away with helping other people; take advantage of many people's genuine need to find companionship?"

From the sudden way the other man whipped around his head to look at him, Lange knew he'd pushed a button.

"Charlie doesn't take advantage of people, or deceives them; he doesn't have it in him. He found his old work when he was cleaning the garage, polished it a bit and sent it to a math journal. It was they who said it'd be better off as a book. He wants more people to see what he sees in math; to understand how… beautiful… it is" Eppes smiled slightly. "You should attend one of his 'Math for Non-Mathematicians' lectures, they're a big hit."

"I heard." Lange tried a different route. "I also hear he does a lot of consulting for the FBI. Specifically, your team."

"Yes. He's helped us quite a bit over the past few years. My agents know more about Game Theory than they ever thought they would."

"I see. How exactly does your brother help you out with your cases?"

For the first time, the agent appeared uncomfortable. "To be honest, the less that is written about Charlie's consulting work, the better. He's done brilliantly applying math to crime solving, I'll give you that, but in the interests of his safety, the details aren't necessary. Understand?"

Lange knew a thinly veiled command when he saw one. "Sure. We don't need to get into that. Like I said, I'm more interested in the personal side of his life, his relationships with the people around him. What's it like being Charlie's brother? "

Eyes forward once again. "Other than the fact that Charlie could tell how many walks I was going to get from my stance alone when I played baseball, it was the usual brother thing. We teased, we fought, we played basketball before dinner. He may be a genius but he wasn't… eccentric, you know? He wasn't weird, or whatever people automatically assume geniuses to be."

"But it must have had an unusual effect on the family, having a person as gifted as Charlie in the mix?" Lange continued.

For what seemed like the third time in five minutes, the agent checked his watch but this time, instead of answering Lange, he said "I'd love to stay and chat but I've got open cases to get back to. You got what you wanted?"

Lange knew an interview was over when he saw it. "I think so."

"Good." Eppes stood up and tossed his empty coffee cup in the rubbish bin a few feet away. Turning back to Lange he added, "By the way, a word to the wise: I wouldn't slam Charlie in the article, if I were you."

Lange gave a short laugh of disbelief. "Is that a threat? Is the FBI suddenly going to start looking into my finances, dig up some dirt on me if I do?"

The agent grinned. "Not at all. For all that Charlie didn't have many friends growing up, he's earned the respect of many in the law enforcement sector. I know at least one LAPD lieutenant wouldn't find it too hard to have your car towed plenty of times. Just a fair warning, thought you should know."

"Thanks. I'll try and keep that in mind when I write up the piece," he said half-laughingly. "I'll send a proof to your brother in a day or two, so he knows what's gonna go into print. Thanks for the chat."

"No problem," replied Eppes and he began walking back towards his office. Lange remained where he was, still sipping his coffee, piecing together all the information he's gathered about Professor Eppes, forming an impression in his mind, the recorder beside him still recording, forgotten. The article was taking shape in his mind, little by little, but there was still a crucial bit that was missing and Lange wondered exactly what he could use to fill in the void. Distracted as he was, he didn't immediately notice Agent Eppes approach him again.

"Mr. Lange?"

x-x-x-x

Later that night, Lange sat in front of his laptop, the article half written in front of him on the screen. It was going well, but he needed something to tie it all together, to form the heart and soul of the piece.

His eyes strayed and fell on a small metal device. The tape recorder was on the desk within easy reach for reference, and he suddenly leaned forward and pressed Play.

"-Charlie's my friend."

Lange smiled. He'd found what he was looking for.

Khatum (The End)

I'm hoping to have something up on the 15th, to celebrate one year in fanfiction, but there's a good chance the muse might go MIA until the week after next. Have a lovely week everyone.