A/N: Hey! Would you believe I almost left this out of my little challenge? It was only when I was looking back over what I'd written that I realised I'd forgotten Numb3rs! The little challenge I set myself was to write a story for each of my fandoms based on the title of the first song that came up on shuffle on my iPod. Who's crying now? by Journey came up for Numb3rs and this is the very first thing that came to mind. I do hope you enjoy it enough to tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own either Numb3rs or the song Who's crying now? by Journey. The OCs are mine, but they aren't very nice, so I don't think anyone would really want them :-)

Who's crying now?

Don could feel his heart pounding as he ran down the street. His feet were pounding too, eating up the distance between the school gate and his house. Charlie had to be along the road somewhere, he couldn't have gone that far. Another thing working fast in Don was his sense of responsibility. He often resented having to look after his little brother, but this time he was in the wrong. He had told his mother that he would walk Charlie home from school – he had promised Charlie that he would be there if Charlie just waited by the gate for him. But Don hadn't been there, he had been talking to friends, had forgotten the time. He was almost half an hour late by the time he remembered, and when he had run to the gate, he had found Charlie gone. Don knew Charlie would have decided that Don had forgotten him, and just started to walk home himself. It wasn't a long walk, and it wasn't a dangerous one, and Charlie was eleven now but still... It was Don's job to protect him, he had promised to be there. And he had promised so that Charlie wouldn't be bothered by the local bullies, jealous of his little brother's intelligence.

All of this was running through Don's head when he rounded the last corner before home and found exactly what he had been scared to find. John Peters and his little gang of cronies were standing over the prone form of his little brother. Charlie was lying on the ground, his face turned up towards Peters', one arm pulled close to his chest. Don was fast approaching, and was close enough already, to see the tears in his brother's eyes.

Peter's, who, along with his gang, had his back to Don, kicked a little at Charlie's foot, forcing a whimper from the younger boy's mouth. "Aww," Peter's voice was full of false sympathy, "Is the little baby crying? Did we give him a booboo?" The whole gang laughed, adding their own jeers.

A red haze covered Don's vision, and, rather than slowing his pace, he pushed faster, slamming himself into Peters and landing them both on the ground. The other teenager was taken by surprise but Don was up in an instant, positioning himself between Charlie and the rest of the boys. Peters rose slowly as Don tried to slow his breathing, fists poised in front of him.

"That wasn't very nice, Eppes." Peters ran a ran down his jeans, his palm having been scrapped against the pavement. Don didn't respond, just edged his feet into a slightly wider stance. Peters raised his own fists. The fight was a short one. Don, unbeknownst to his pacifist parents, watched a lot of cop shows, and this, coupled with his experience in Hockey, had made him a good fighter. A few well placed punches and Peters was on the ground, blood oozing sluggishly from his nose. None of his 'friends' tried to intervene. Cowards follow cowards. Don just stared them all down, before glaring at Peters.

"Who's crying now, tough guy?"

Tears were indeed clinging to the corners of his opponent's eyes. Don didn't spare him another glance, turning to his little brother instead. He could hear the boys moving away as he knelt beside Charlie, looking into his eyes.

"Are you alright buddy?" Don gently took his brother's arm in his hands, as Charlie was still clutching it to his chest. However, rather than seeming hurt, Charlie had a look of awe on his face, and his natural hero-worship of his big brother appeared to be in over-drive. It made Don feel even worse for forgetting him. He bent to his task, pulling lightly at the younger boy's arm, twisting his wrist a little. Charlie didn't cry out, and only made a noise of protest when Don pushed against his palm.

"Don't Don!" The tears were back, "That hurts!"

"I'm sorry buddy. But it's not broken – that's good. I think you've pulled the muscle though"

Charlie just sniffed and nodded, accepting Don's hand to pull himself off the ground. Don, in a rare show of affection, slung his arm around his little brother's shoulders, grabbing Charlie's bag from where it had fallen and easily slinging it up with his own. They started walking as he then looked down at the other boy – Charlie still had a lot of growing to do, and Don was looking down some foot and a half.

"I'm real sorry, Charlie."

His little brother just stared up at him with a confused look on his face. "What do you mean Don?" he asked, "You came and got me."

Don almost smiled at Charlie's logic. There was little he could do wrong in the eyes of his brother. "Yeah, I know I did, buddy. But I wouldn't have had to if I'd been there to walk you home. Like I said I would."

Charlie just shrugged, looking down at his feet. "You were talking to your friends. I'm old enough to walk myself home." His voice had taken on a bitter, self depreciating quality that Don didn't like.

"It's not your fault those guys are idiots, buddy. And how did you know I was talking to my friends?" Charlie just shrugged again, as a rather unhappy thought occurred to Don, "You came to find me, didn't you? Well?" he pressed. The younger boy still didn't look up, but his head bobbed up and down once. Don felt what little of himself that wasn't already filled with guilt well up. He pulled them both to a stop, dumping the school bags and kneeling in front of Charlie, forcing his brother to look him in the eye. "Charlie, why didn't you say something, if you knew where I was?"

Dark brown eyes met Don's own. Charlie seemed to be willing Don to understand. "You were with your friends. I didn't want you to have to leave just because your stupid little brother can't stand up for himself."

"Hey hey! Don't you call yourself that Charlie!" Don couldn't believe that that was what Charlie thought. Not that Don hadn't thought it once or twice himself...

"But it's true!" Charlie turned slightly to the side, loosening Don's grip on his shoulders. "Everyone says so – I'm just the stupid tag along that you're stuck with!"

"Buddy, look at me," Don pulled him back around, "I don't care if the whole world says that Charlie, that isn't what I think – it isn't." Charlie was looking dubious. "Charlie, if I thought that then why would I have told mum that I would walk you home, hmm?" The young face puckered slightly in thought, "If I thought that then why would I have come running down the road just now?" Don could practically see the cogs in Charlie's mind working away, "You're my little brother Charlie and I like looking after you. If you weren't here then I wouldn't be the great big brother you keep telling me I am, would I?" Don smiled and was relieved to receive one in return. Attempting to make light of a far too emotional moment, he chucked his brother under the chin as he stood up, replacing the bags, and the arm around his brother's shoulders, "Besides Charlie, you should know better than to listen to anyone idiotic enough to call you stupid!"

A/N: Hmm well that went spectacularly off topic, but I kept going because if I'd stopped it at the Who's crying now?' bit it would have been spectacularly unfinished, so I carried on. Review? Pleasies?