R is for Remembrance

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

(Written for the 2006 Summer Alphabet Challenge)

Disclaimer: Other than being a devoted fan, I don't have anything to do with Numb3rs.

He held her small hand firmly as the two of them walked out of the house. She had begged and pleaded with Maria to let her go to the park today, but her nanny had been adamant that they stayed home. "Senor Reeves," Maria had said firmly, "your papa, said you were to stay here and play." She had gone up to her room to sulk until he came to visit and take her away.

"Come on, Meg," he said, using her nickname. "Let's go to the park." He held out his hand for her to take and smiled mischievously. She took his hand and asked, "But Dad told Maria…"

"Yeah, well, let me talk to Maria," his smile displayed all of the Reeves' charm, "I'm sure she won't mind getting off a little early today." And he was right. It had taken some persuasion and soothing on his part before Maria consented, but at last, the two of them were on their way.

"Will you teach me how to pitch today?" she asked as she skipped along beside him. He smiled at her, "What about the swings?" She shrugged, "Swings first, then baseball."

"Okay," he agreed. She smiled, "Race you!" and, slipping her hand out his grip, took off. She heard him laugh and protest, "Hey! I've got the mitt and ball!" She stopped and waited for him at the corner of the sidewalk. He had taught her to never, ever, cross street without him, or an adult, there. She listened to him; she always listened to him.

"You look funny," she remarked, examining the white bathrobe-like piece of clothing, tied shut by a strip of cloth. He grinned, "It's my uniform." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, "For school?" He nearly doubled over with laughter. She didn't appreciate being laughed at and raised her arm to smack him on the shoulder. The next second, she found herself pinned against his body, his arm wrapped loosely around her throat. He let go as soon as she began to struggle.

"It's for Krav Maga," he told her seriously, all humor gone from his expression. "And I think you should learn it."

"Will you teach me?" she asked. She might be just eight, but she wasn't stupid. There had been an attempted kidnapping in the neighborhood recently; everyone was a little on edge. He shook his head, "No. But I think my teacher will, and I'll help you out."

"But what about…?"

"My mom's already talked with your mom. Aunt Georgia's now convinced that all of you need to learn it." She didn't feel too thrilled about the idea of sharing more 'sister time' with her three older sisters, especially since she would have to share him too.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile, as if he could read her thoughts perfectly, "I'm going to be helping you out, since you're the youngest." She scowled at the reminder she was still a baby in the eyes of her family, but he laughed and told her, "See? I told you one day that there would be a benefit to being the baby. You get me!" She couldn't help but smile then. He always made her laugh.

"What do you mean?" she asked, hating herself for the whine in her voice. Grabbing the chair from her desk, he sat down, facing her on her bed. He sighed, "I mean, I'm going to Harvard."

"But Harvard's in Massachusetts!" she exclaimed.

"I know, Meg," he said quietly.

"But what about Columbia? Or NYU? I mean, there's got to be lots of colleges in the city, right?"

He nodded, "Yes, there are."

"So why aren't you going there?" she demanded. "Why do you have to go away to Massachusetts?"

"Meg," he was the only one she had ever allowed to call her by that nickname, "remember how I told you that you needed to follow your dreams?"

"Yes," she said, deflating. She knew where this was going already.

"This is my dream, Meg." There was a long silence. She picked at a loose thread on her bedspread, "I just…I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to either." She looked up at him, confused. He smiled tightly at her, "I'll miss you, Meg. Who's going to make me laugh? Who's going to play one-on-one basketball with me anymore? I won't have anyone to practice Krav Maga with. Then again, it'll be nice being with someone who won't wipe the floor with my rear end," he half-muttered to himself. She couldn't help but laugh, even as she leaned forward and swatted at him. He grinned briefly, "See? And I won't be able to hear you laugh every weekend. I won't be able to see you as often as I would like to. But we'll stay in touch, okay? You write to me, call me if you need anything. Promise?" She nodded, "Promise."

"Good," he said, standing up from her chair and putting it back where it belonged. "Now, what time is that baseball practice of yours? Your team needs its pitcher."

The roar from the sidelines was deafening as she raced down the field with her teammates. Chelsea passed her the soccer ball and she went for the goal, easily dodging the opposing team's defender. They needed this tiebreaker to win the game.

"Go Meg!" she heard his voice cheering her on above the rest and she smiled to herself. He was here.

Later, when their district victory had been announced and proper sportsmanship had been performed, she had searched for him in the milling crowds. He found her first and swept her up in a quick hug. She laughed and gently pushed him away.

"My goodness, Meg," he exclaimed,letting her go, "look at you! You've grown so much."

"Yeah, well, you haven't been around enough," she smiled to take the sting out of her words. "How's Harvard?"

"Work," he replied with a dramatic sigh, "Lots of work and not enough sleep."

"Really?" she asked skeptically, "Not enough sleep?" She could have sworn that he blushed slightly, but he asked in a shocked tone of voice, "What sort of books have you been reading?"

"Apparently not the same kinds you have," she replied saucily. "Meanwhile, did you bring her home to show Uncle Brian and Aunt Louise?" He laughed, "No, not yet. First, I want her to meet my favorite cousin and see if she passes inspection."

"She's here?" She hoped her disappointment didn't show in her expression. He shook his head, "She's with her parents right now in Connecticut. She'll be here in three days. Should be plenty of time for us to play a few rounds of basketball," he playfully jostled her, "hit the mats." She laughed, "The only person who'll be hitting the mats is you."

"Wanna bet?" he teased.

"No," she said. "I'm not going to take money from a poor college student." His mouth dropped open in mock outrage, "I challenge you to a match tomorrow, after school."

"You're on."

"So where are you going now?" she asked, sitting next to him on the ironwork bench.

"Houston," he replied quietly. She looked at him in concern, "What's wrong? Is it Cecilia?" He shook his head, "No…actually, everything's going really well."

"Yeah, right," she said with typical adolescent skepticism, "and Dad's happy that I'm a girl."

"Your father loves you, Meg," he said, going over very familiar territory again, "Even if he is being a jerk most of the time." He sighed and sat back on the bench, "Actually, it's good news, just…well it's still kind of new."

"Like your badge isn't?" she asked. He grinned slightly, "No. But…well, you're the first person I've actually told, so you should feel very special."

"I always feel special," she told him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Special daughter, special classes, special problem…I'm a 'special' person." High school had not treated her well: her refusal to mingle with the social registry sons and daughters combined with the refusal of the middle-class cliques to associate with a 'spoiled rich kid' had made her an outcast. He had received more than several late-night calls from her over the past four years.

"Yeah, well, that's probably because you're smarter than three-fourths of the school and you've got backbone."

"And if that were true, I'd be going to Harvard."

"So? Columbia's a great school."

"Yes…but…"

"But what, Meg?" he looked at her sternly, "It's your chance to get out of the house, be on your own. Do what you want and forget about what's going on between you and Uncle Kevin. Enjoy college. After all, you did want to go there, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have applied?" She nodded; there were times when it was annoying that he was right.

"Do you always know everything?" she demanded. He smiled slightly, "I don't know if I'm going to make a good father." She looked at him for a few seconds in silence, "Cecilia's pregnant?"

He nodded, "Fifteen weeks." She smiled and squeezed his arm, "That's great!" She knew about the struggles he and his wife had gone through, trying to have children. Cecilia had already miscarried twice, both in her first trimester.

"Boy or girl?" she asked. He shook his head, "We want to be surprised. But…" he smiled at her, "If it's a girl, Cecilia wants to name her Isabelle Megan."

She blushed, "That's…."

"And regardless of gender, we also want you to be his or her godmother."

"I…I'm way too young to be anyone's godmother," she said. He touched her hand lightly, "You've always been kind to Cecilia. And she wanted to thank you for it." After a moment's thought, she nodded in acceptance. There really was no way that she would turn down an honor like that. When he had married Cecilia, not everyone in the family had been particularly thrilled; unlike the rest of the family's spouses, Cecilia was not from a socialite background. But she had taken an immediate liking to Cecilia the day the two of them were introduced and helped the older woman navigate the occasional minefield of the haute ton.

She picked up her ringing landline quickly and smiled when she heard the voice on the other end of the phone. She had been staying up a little later than she should, waiting for their weekly call. "Hi, Meg," he said, "did I wake you?"

"No," she said, closing her notebook, "I was reviewing for tomorrow."

He chuckled, "If last summer was any indication, you'll do fine. How did you do on the range?"

"Passed," she replied, "a hundred and fifty."

"Overachiever," he teased. She laughed, "Well, not all of them were bull's-eye."

"Still…that's pretty impressive."

"Yes," she agreed. "That is."

"Nervous?"

"A little," she confessed.

"That's normal. Do you know what time they're going to do ceremonies?"

"A week from today," she replied, "at ten in the morning, main auditorium." He knew her unspoken question, "I don't know if I can make it…the case we're working on is on a pretty tight schedule. I'll try. I promise."

"It's okay if you can't make it," she said, hoping he didn't hear how much she wanted him to be there. "I know it's important you get that solved. Besides, Christina and Caroline are going to be here. Maureen's going to try."

"That's good that they're going to be there."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure that they would want to…," she laughed a little, "Caroline's already thinking about a possible storyline."

"What about your parents?" he asked cautiously. "Has Uncle Kevin…?" She said nothing, which was an answer itself. He sighed, "I'll talk to him again. See if he'll come around."

"Don't waste your time," she said quietly. "He's not going to listen to anyone."

"He's your father, and he should be proud of you."

"We've both known from the get-go that he isn't happy about my choice. And it's not like Mom's thrilled with it either. It's okay. Don't waste your time."

"Meg…" he didn't sound happy with her words.

"Please, let's drop it, okay?"

"Sure," he said. "It's pretty late."

"Yes," she glanced at the clock as it ticked towards eleven at night.

"You should get some rest. It's no good if you fall asleep in Hogan's Alley tomorrow."

"During the practical?" she snickered a little. "That's insane."

"It happened in my class," he protested good-naturedly, "I swear!"

"Uh-huh, I believe you," she said, her tone telling him that she didn't. "Tell Cecilia I said hi, for me, will you? Oh, and extra hugs and kisses for Isabelle and Paul tonight?"

"Sure thing," he said. "Good night, Meg. And good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks," she said, "take care."

"I will."

She picked up her ringing landline, half her attention still on the unfolding events on the television. Despite her experience, her mind was reeling from the news. She could have never imagined something like this happening to a city that had been her home for four years, and where he was living with his family now. She was concerned about his safety, but she took solace in the fact that his office was nowhere near the disaster zone. But she promptly forgot her own shock when she recognized the voice of the crying woman on the other end of the line.

"He was there…" She heard Cecilia choke back a sob, "interviewing a suspect… He shouldn't have been there, but… They can't reach him…. They're saying he's gone. They're saying — he, he can't…he can't be gone…"

"Where are you?" she asked urgently, afraid of Cecilia placing herself in a dangerous situation.

"Home—I'm at home…"

"Where are Isabelle and Paul?" she asked, trying to focus on what he would have wanted her to focus on for him: his wife and children.

"Still at school…," Cecilia whispered, her voice shaking, "what—what am I going to tell them? What am I going to do? How do I…?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Cecilia," she soothed. "I promise. Listen, call me if you need anything, even if it's just to talk. I'm going to go talk with my boss and I'll be there as soon as he lets me go." She turned in a circle, searching for her supervisor.

"I…I couldn't, I—"

"Cecilia," she said sternly, putting every bit of authority she had behind her words to make the other woman listen, "you are my family. You call me if you need anything because that's what family does for each other and he would have wanted me to help take care of you, Isabelle and Paul."

"Okay," the older woman said with a shaky breath, "okay."

"Turn off the TV and call a good friend," she said, "ask them to come over and stay with you. I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Okay." She could hear the shock beginning to set in. She couldn't risk leaving Cecilia alone any longer than she had to. She had to go. With a few more empty, coxing words, she managed to get Cecilia off the landline. She stood from her desk, fully intending to go and find her boss, but her heart wouldn't let her go so easily. She looked at the television, watching dark smoke billow into the Manhattan skyline, and choked back her own tears.

"Hey, you okay?"

At her partner's softly-voiced question, Megan turned away from the windows of the field office. She must have been staring out at the skyline for several minutes, lost in memories; long enough to make her colleague worried. Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, she took a deep breath and smiled slightly, "Yeah." Her eyes flickered to the windows again, "Yeah, I'm fine. Did they get him?"

Colby nodded, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn't press her for answers. They had a suspect to interrogate and a case to solve. "Picked him up at LaGuardia," he informed her. "He's downstairs right now, waiting for us."

"Tried to make a run for it, huh?" she said, moving towards the doorway. He nodded, following her lead, both physically and figuratively. There would be a time, later, for him to ask questions that she might not answer, but now was not it.

"And failed," he said, holding the door open for her. "Guy thought he could outrun a concourse full of cops."

"You know, stupid criminals make our lives easier, Colby," she replied dryly as she walked past him.

"Yeah, until they won't confess…" he told her as they headed for the elevators.

"Colby," she said, walking over to his temporary desk, "my reports are done and filed." Megan handed him her finished paperwork. "I've…I've got something I need to do, so I'll see you at LaGuardia, okay?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," she said with a weak smile. "I just need to — to see someone. So I'll meet you at LaGuardia, four o'clock at the counter."

"Sure," he replied, recognizing an evasion when he saw one. "Call me, if you need anything." She nodded in reply and left, leaving a very confused and concerned Colby staring after her.

He didn't know much about Megan's personal life before she came to Los Angeles; even though both of them had joined Don's team at the same time, neither of them were big about sharing their life secrets. But he knew that something had been nibbling at her ever since they flew to New York three weeks ago to liaison with the local Bureau office on a case. It wasn't as if she wasn't completely focused on the investigation; if anything, Megan was the opposite, throwing herself into tracking down leads, interrogating suspects, and pulling the facts together. But then there were the moments of complete silence and stillness from her, when Colby would find her staring out at the Manhattan skyline during a lull in the frantic pace, completely lost in thought. He didn't think it was the case itself that was causing the reflective sadness in her eyes — white slavery was always disturbing, but he had the gut instinct that it was something more. Colby hadn't forgotten the flash of apprehension and grief that had appeared in her eyes the day that Don had announced he needed Colby and her to fly to New York City. Whatever her memories were here, they haunted her.

His eyes glanced at the calendar and he frowned, recalling how she was quieter around this time last year too. Back then, he had thought it was just the stress of their caseload that was getting to her, and maybe that was the situation now…but he didn't think so. This was something personal to her, something she probably would never discuss with anyone. Ever. With the possible exception of Larry.

As a friend, Colby was worried about her. He had the fix-it kind of personality; if there was something wrong, he wanted to help and make it right. That was what had led him into CID and then into the Bureau. On the same hand, he knew when it hurt more to push than to let go. Now was one of those times when he had to give Megan her space like she gave him his. He would always be grateful that Megan had never asked him about what hit him so hard about the shooting in the bull pen; she had simply treated it as part of his right to privacy. Colby suspected that she had been the one who had suggested to David to get him drunk, but he had never asked and she never acted like she knew about the conversation that night in the parking lot.

With a sigh, he looked back down at the half-finished report. She could take care of herself and he knew she would call if she needed anything. But until she came to him, he wouldn't press for answers.

She knelt down on one knee in front of the polished marble. Even though there was no one around to see her, she smiled and reached forward to touch the cool stone in greeting. She lightly caressed the carved words, feeling the indentations under her fingertips.

"Hey, there," she said, settling in a cross-legged position in front of the headstone. "It's me, Meg. Sorry I haven't been around as much anymore; it's hard finding time to get out here. Being halfway across the country makes it difficult, but I'll try harder to visit. You weren't kidding about the hours or the cases, I'll tell you that. Sometimes I'm surprised that it's Friday and I actually have the weekend to myself. Of course, half the time, I'm back at my desk by Saturday night, but at least I get overtime pay. Makes it a bit difficult to meet people, but I've managed; went out to a few of the nightclubs with some of my neighbors. But men either panic or turn lewd whenever I mention I work for the Bureau. But beyond that, L.A.'s been good to me.

"You remember how nervous I was a few years ago, about transferring away? If I could work in the BAU and not burn out? I still remember how you told me to go, that everything would be fine. You practically shoved those transfer papers back at me and told me that I would be insane if I didn't go. As always, you were right. Does it ever drive you nuts that you're always right? I still remember when you told me that you and Cecilia were expecting Isabelle…I can't believe you ever doubted that you would be a good father." She smiled slightly at the thought of her godchildren, "Isabelle looks so much like Cecilia that she's already turning heads on the street. But Cecilia's told me that Isabelle made black belt last month, so I don't think we have anything to worry about. Paul looks a lot like you, almost a mirror-image." She swallowed, "When he smiles…well," she made herself focus on the fond memories, "he always smiles before he gets you to do things his way. You used to talk circles around Maria, but she was always fond of you. You were always so polite with her, and you never let her fear for a moment that she would lose her job because of you. Me, on the other hand…

"I didn't get the chance to really talk to you about why I left the BAU. It wasn't you, if you're worried about that. It was time to move on. Leaving BAU was the right choice. L.A.'s different, but I like it. I…I feel whole there. That's not to say that Hotch and the others didn't make me feel comfortable — they did. I still keep in touch with him; he had a son a few months ago. Yes, I cooed over the baby pictures and I'm hoping to visit them this December. Reid's sent me a few e-mails here and there, mostly articles that he thinks are interesting. Oh, did I mention he's finally published? Even Gideon occasionally writes an e-mail to ask how I'm doing. I care about them all, but there was just something missing there for me. I'm still not sure what it is, but I know I feel safe when I'm with Don, David and Colby. You know, they accept me for who I am and they don't whine about how I should leave the Bureau, settle down, get married, and they certainly don't hold it against me that I'm a girl. Course, I think it helps that you taught me Krav Maga as well as that chokehold. But I took down a suspect in heels a few months ago," she sounded smug, "so that week wasn't a complete waste of time and that twisted ankle paid off." She laughed, "Oh, I still remember how upset you were over how we couldn't practice together, never mind that Dad just about blew a gasket when you brought me home."

Her mirth faded as she replayed the confrontation in the foyer. Her father had been furious that she had twisted an ankle so she couldn't make it to an "important" reception at the country club. But it didn't matter what she did, he was always angry, always disappointed with her. She sighed heavily, "I still haven't gotten through to him. I know, I know…I should talk to him before it's too late. In our line of work, I should know better. I shouldn't leave things the way they are now. It's just so damn hard to get him on the phone and…I still don't have the nerve to confront him when I visit.

"You know I've had a couple close ones before, ones that made me really think. I didn't tell you about all of them because I know you would panic and feel guilty, but I made the decision to follow your example, not you. Funny, how even though you're a Fed, I still try to protect you from what I do. We have the same job, — had the same…you know what I mean. But…I feel that I have more to lose now. I mean, I love Mom and Dad, and Christina, Maureen, and Caroline, and I know they would be devastated if anything happened to me, and that's partially why I'm always so careful. But it's different now. Before…I used to be careful because I know you'd never forgive yourself if anything happened to me. Now…I feel like a part of a family in L.A. Don, Colby and David…they're like you. They understand what it's like and they see me as me and they don't try to hold me back…" She trailed off, trying to sum up the feelings of companionship and friendship she felt when she was around her teammates. "They care. And that's…and that's sometimes more than I can say for family. I mean, I know we've had this conversation hundreds and hundreds of times before, but I don't think I…I just wish that Mom would accept that the Bureau is a part of my life. I'm not interested in aimless chatter or money. I'm happy making a difference in the world, even if it is on a 'two-bit' salary like you called it. And I guess when it comes down to it, I would like them to be proud of me. Caroline's still angry that Mom won't talk about me in front of 'guests.' The day Mom does will probably be the day she announces that I'm getting married to a rich man and leaving the Bureau. Don't count on it."

"But yes," she confessed slowly, a blush rising across her cheeks, "there is someone special. I think you would approve of him. He's the mentor of Don's brother. Larry's older than me, yes, but he's… I wouldn't say wise, but he knows what to say and when to say it. He makes me smile and laugh after a bad case. I know you'd be glad to hear that he treats me like I'm the only woman in the world; he takes care of me and at the same time, he doesn't try to limit me. Larry calls himself a Renaissance man, but he doesn't hold me back, even when he is afraid for me. If anything, he wants me to be happy and to pursue the life I want, even if he does worry a bit. He trusts me. There are times when I wonder if it's all a dream; then, of course, I hear your voice going, 'Of course not Meg. There's got to be the right guy out there for you. One who isn't as backward as Uncle Kevin is.' I don't know what's in the future for the two of us, but I'm open to it. If he ever asks, I would say 'yes' without a second thought."

"But I miss you, Josh," she said softly, blinking back tears. "I know you're proud of me, but I wish you could be here. I wish you could meet Don, Colby and David. I can see you swapping those crazy stories around with them. I wish you could see if Larry passes your inspection, if he's 'good enough' for me. I know you'd probably say yes, he is, but I want to hear you say it, with that smile of yours. I want you to be there to walk me down the aisle, if it ever comes to that. I want you to stand in the doorway on Isabelle's prom night and tell her date that he'd better behave, or else, or meet Paul's girlfriend and say that you approve of her. I want you to be back here, and be hugging Cecilia and cooing over your grandkids together…. And none of that is going to happen. I miss your humor and your honesty. I miss the way you would toss your pen up in the air to celebrate when we finished with paperwork on a case, or how you could balance three cups of steaming hot coffee in one hand. You took care of me, supported me when no one else would, told me that the Bureau wasn't a crazy idea, that I had to find myself and I… I'll never understand why you went to that interview so early that day. Well, no, I do understand — your work, that case, was important to you — but I still wish you had waited for your partner. Maybe then, you'd still be here… But you always told me to never look back, didn't you? You taught me so many things, helped me find myself, find my life and what I wanted. You got me back on track in high school, told me 'go for it' in college and you were always there when I needed you.

"One regret I have is that I never told you that I saw you there that day, standing in the back of the auditorium when the Director handed me my badge. When I sat back down again, you were gone, back to Houston, and we never talked about it. I don't know why you never told me you were there; did you know I saw you? Did you trust me to know that you were there? But…I remember your smile. Even though it was just for a second, I knew how proud you were of me, and how afraid for me at the same time and how you were placing your faith in me to keep myself safe…and, please forgive me, but I wish Dad had smiled like that. Actually, I wish Dad was even there. But I'm forever thankful you were. I wish I had told you how much you meant to me before…" She took a deep breath and sat in silence for several long minutes, trying to calm her tears. A gentle breeze brushed against her face and she closed her eyes, thinking about him. For a split second, she could have sworn she heard him laughing happily, relaxed and at peace with the world. She smiled slightly before she opened her eyes. He was there, with her.

Checking the time on her watch, she sighed, "I have to go soon. We wrapped up the case we came here to close; illegal smuggling and prostitution… I'll never get used to it. Don't ever hope I will. But the girls are safe now. INS might deport them, but I hope not. They've been through enough. You know the feeling: relief that it's over, and frustration that it happened in the first place.

"I'll visit when I can. You don't have to worry about Cecilia, Isabelle and Paul; I'll look after them. I promise. But I wouldn't worry either way. Cecilia is a pretty strong woman. She's going to raise Isabelle and Paul right. And they had you as their father; they have a good example to follow. I'm going to see them in about half an hour, spend the rest of the time I have in the city with them, catching up, checking in. I promise I'll be careful, because you would want me to." She stood up slowly and walked closer to the headstone.

"I love you, and I miss you," she said softly. "Look out for me, will you?" She tapped the top of the marble twice and smiled as she recalled her cousin's rakish grin. Then she turned around and walked away.

Joshua Fitzgerald Reeves

Son, Husband, Father, Agent

Loved & Missed

You Are An Inspiration