The Past is a Different Land…

Disclaimer

To conclude, for the upteenth time and for those who didn't get it the other twenty times (you know who you are, lawyers…) I do not own anything to do with Numb3rs. I don't write for Numb3rs, I don't shift scenery for Numb3rs and I'm not married to anyone on the crew of Numb3rs. I'm a mere fan, labouring under the misapprehension that people might actually want to read this drivel…

I do, however, own the story and the character of Diane Armstrong. And that's non-negotiable. (Unless you're a producer on Numb3rs then baby, I'll negotiate you the rights in a flash…)

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The glass erupted into the interrogation room. Colby's eyes widened as he saw a bullet punch a hole in the centre of Aranamov's forehead. In an instant he hit the floor and rolled, slamming into the wall beneath the shattered mirror with a grunt. A punch of pain slammed him in the kidney and he gasped. Colby put his hand to his side and brought it back. His hand was covered in blood. One of the bullets had hit him in the side, carving a flesh wound through his skin and muscles. "Goddamn it!" He grimaced in pain as fragments of glass rained down on him and he threw his arm over his head to protect himself against further injury. He closed his eyes for a second and focused on the throbbing, white-hot pain in his side, willing it to slow to a dull ache. "DIANE!" His voice was harsh as he tried to mask the agony from her. He had to know she was alive…

"STAY DOWN!" Diane moved quickly, staying low as she ran for cover. The shooter had emptied six shots into the room. The bullet with Colby's name on it had been deflected as some of its energy had been dissipated by the glass. But the bullet intended for Aranamov had journeyed to its mark perfectly. A second shot had taken him in the centre of his chest – a pointless but standard assassin's procedure. The other three? Well, if he was lucky, one of them may have found its mark in Diane. But her response to Colby's cry of her name told Frank Dicks that now would be a very, very good time to run…

No more bullets came. Colby heard a door slam and nodded to Diane. He rolled painfully to his left and, gritting his teeth against the next bolt of fire he knew would slam into him when he moved, sprang to his feet and brought his gun around in an arc through the shattered window. As he moved he tried to stifle the gasp of pain as the flesh wound reminded him that rolling was not a good idea. The observation room was empty, except for Daniel's lifeless body slumped against a wall. The blue eyes were open, blank, staring through Colby and into the unknown. Colby knew there was nothing he could do to help the man. "Oh no..." The pain in his side went unnoticed. It was the punch in his gut as he realised whom the third man really was that nearly dropped him to his knees. All these years. Their friendship in Afghanistan, the times they had watched out for each other, watched each other's backs in the middle of battle. Now? Total betrayal. Frank Dicks had betrayed him not once, but twice. Colby felt humiliated and sick to his soul…

An explosive, icy cold rage started to fill him. Everything he'd been through. Every agonising second he had lain in that cold, dank cell in Kosovo, waiting for the footsteps to echo down the corridor towards him promising pain with every step, the anticipation as horrific as the event itself. The living hell David - his friend and partner - had gone through because Diane had been forced to take an extreme gamble to flush the real traitor out. The whole, horrible wasp's nest of memories opened up and smashed through to the surface, roaring inside his head like an angry swarm. Colby tensed, feeling the rage course through him, welcoming its release. His eyes closed as he allowed the rage to focus to a pinpoint of intent and slowly opened them again.

Diane looked into the room, her own gun still holstered but a glint of metal in the palm of her right hand. "Dicks." Her voice was flat, emotionless.

"Dicks." Colby looked at her intently.

"You're bleeding there, sweetheart." Diane's voice was soft, tinged with concern. She nodded to his blood-soaked shirt. Colby glanced down and then shrugged.

"I know. Hurts like a bitch."

Without waiting for a response, Colby turned and ran to the door, wrenching it open. Every step he took was agony, but by now the rage and a bucketful of adrenaline was coursing through his body. He ignored the pain. He had a job to do.

A job to finish…

Outside the two rooms, pandemonium had broken out. Colby and Diane ran into the corridor just in time to see Frank's retreating back. Two agents lay dead or dying on the floor. The rest had dropped down to the floor or were seeking cover from the hail of bullets Dicks had unleashed as he hit the corridor at a flat run. A siren screamed in the background. Colby bellowed with rage. "FRANK! DON'T MAKE ME SHOOT YOU IN THE BACK, YOU SON OF A BITCH! FRANK!"

The fleeing man kept running, but as he ran he turned and brought his gun up, his eyes gazing into his friend's for the last time. He could see the word written clearly in Colby's eyes. Traitor. It didn't matter any more…

As Frank's gun barrel levelled, Colby fired a single shot. At that instant, Diane's right hand moved and a blur of metal erupted from her fingertips, spinning its way through the air. The Shuriken embedded itself into Frank's exposed throat as the bullet blasted into his skull. Both kill shots. Neither of them would ever know which was the final death shot…

Frank Dicks' body was thrown backwards, his back arching and his arms flung outwards. He crashed to the floor and lay motionless, dead eyes staring up at the ceiling tiles of a nameless corridor. Blood oozed from the bullet hole in his forehead, trickling down his temple and neck, finally mingling with the blood that poured from the gaping wound in his neck, the flesh ripped apart by the razor-sharp edges of the throwing star. Frank's gun clattered out of his hand and lay spinning on the smooth floor, its progress slowing until it finally came to rest, the muzzle pointing directly at Colby.

Silence descended, punctuated only by the howling siren. Colby stood absolutely still, staring at the scene before him. He felt the rage flood out of him, pooling at his feet like the blood that pooled at the base of Frank's neck. In that moment, he felt utterly calm. Diane moved silently to the prone man, crouching beside him and searching for a pulse in his neck she knew wouldn't be there. She looked up at Colby and shook her head. Colby's eyes closed slowly.

It was over.

He felt his knees start to buckle as the flesh wound reminded him of its presence and the amount of blood he'd lost subsequently. Two strong but gentle arms slipped under his own and he was lowered carefully to the floor, supported in the arms of Diane Armstrong. "Hey, easy there, big fella!" She cradled the back of his head with her hand, "It's over, CJ. It's over." She rested his head on her chest, her arm wrapped protectively around his powerful shoulders. Despite her reputation as a brutal killer, Diane Armstrong did care. And she cared deeply about the man who lay in her arms right now. It wasn't just the pain of the wound that tormented him, she knew that. It was the collective pain of years of dark nightmares, of memories buried deep within the man's soul. Memories she shared as well. This had been a release for both of them. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to fight the tears that welled up, poised to tumble down her cheeks. Tenderly, she kissed Colby's forehead and stroked a stray lock of hair back into place. A single tear escaped and rolled slowly across her skin. "It's over…"

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The early evening sun sparkled on the surface of the water, the only sounds those of birdsong and the gentle slap of waves lapping onto the banks of the lake. Colby stared out over the water, his eyes fixed on the bobbing float of his fishing line. He breathed deeply, ignoring the twinge in his side from the bullet wound that still smarted when he moved. With every breath, he relished the absolute peace and tranquillity of this glorious wilderness. Here, he was a million miles and a lifetime away from the past. Here, the past was a different land. One shrouded in a dark cloud, its features finally beginning to blur from his memory. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face and tipped his head up towards it, closing his eyes against the glare. For the first time in years, he finally felt at peace…

Don Eppes leaned back against the car and watched the man sitting by the edge of the lake, oblivious to everything except the moment he was in. Don smiled. It was good to see Colby again; not just some unknown and unknowable spy, but the man he had come to like and respect over the past few years… He reached through the passenger window and his hand closed around the six-pack of beer. It seemed like an appropriate apology for disturbing the man's peace.

Colby heard soft footsteps behind him and turned abruptly. Don stopped and held up the beer. "Don!" Colby grinned broadly.

"Hey Col. Thought you'd appreciate a beer, buddy!" Don stepped forward and slid on the loose gravel that led down to the water's edge. He sat down heavily with a grunt, pulled a can free of its plastic restraint and held it out to his friend.

Colby took the beer, shaking his head and chuckling quietly to himself. "How in the hell did you find me?"

Don pulled the ring tab on a can of beer and grinned. "Well, ya know, I do work for the FBI. Kinda what we do. Find people." He took a mouthful of beer and swallowed. "Besides. Your director called my director. Gave us a full briefing." He paused and looked straight at the man. "I'm sorry it happened that way, Col. I know Dicks was a friend of yours."

"Guess I kinda know how David felt now, huh?" Colby shrugged and opened his own beer, staring out over the water.

"It doesn't even compete, Col. You were never a traitor. Dicks was. That's a world of difference in my book. David's too." He followed Colby's gaze out over the lake, watching a crimson sun sinking slowly below the mountains. "Man, this is one beautiful place, Colby! I'm beginning to see the attraction of fishing, buddy, I really am!" He grinned broadly at Colby and raised his beer in toast before taking another drink.

Colby laughed quietly. "Yeah. Usually it's pretty peaceful around here." He raised an eyebrow at Don but returned the toast. "Usually."

Don's head dropped, an apologetic smile on his face. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. But I thought we'd better talk through a couple of things, ya know? Just you and me." He looked straight at Colby, his expression now serious. "I know they've offered you another job, Colby. At Langley."

"What, the desk job?" Colby grunted. "Yeah. And you'll know I've turned it down, right?"

"Why?"

Colby looked surprised. "Why? Seriously?"

Don shrugged. "It's a hell of a promotion, buddy."

"It's a freakin' desk job!" Colby's voice was indignant. Don couldn't help but chuckle again.

"And that's just not you, is it?"

"Oh yeah! Sure! Can you honestly see me sat behind a desk all goddamn day? I'm a field agent, Don. Not a fucking paper pusher!" Colby suddenly became serious. "Besides." He sighed deeply. "I've had enough. I don't wanna be part of that world any more."

"I thought you said spies didn't retire."

"I didn't say I was retiring, buddy." He looked out over the lake, searching for answers…"I just don't want to be part of their twisted, political bullshit any more. They've had me and Diane dancing like a couple of puppets for too long. We've been fighting this battle for over five years, Don. Now?" He looked straight at Don. "It's over. Finally. Me and Diane'll get given a couple of medals that we can't tell anyone about, the file'll get red-stamped and buried in some vault somewhere, an embarrassment to everyone concerned. And tomorrow?" He shrugged. "Well, tomorrow it'll be some poor other son of a bitch's turn, with their own private hell to go through." He looked deep into Don's eyes. "I didn't retire, Don. I quit."

"Hmm." Don watched the sun sink lower. He paused for a while. "So, you're kinda at a loose end then, huh?" He looked at Colby, who merely shrugged. "You could always help the FBI catch some bad guys in LA, Col." He took another drink of beer. "Cause, at my last reckoning, you were still on the payroll, bud. You got a pile of paperwork on your desk that's threatening to topple over onto David's desk, and he ain't pleased about that." He looked back at his friend, ignoring Colby's groan at the mention of paperwork. "We could do with you back on the team, Colby. How 'bout Monday morning?" It wasn't a request. Colby laughed quietly.

"Monday?" Don nodded. "I'll be there."

"Good." Don drained the last drops of beer from the tin and put it down in front of him. He studied the empty tin, nervous about his next words. "So…Diane…"

"…Is back in England. As far as I know." Colby's interruption was sharp, cutting Don dead. "She's…yeah. She's gone." Don could hear the hurt in Colby's voice.

"She's one hell of a woman."

"Yeah." Colby's voice was soft.

"A complete lunatic, obviously, but one hell of a woman, nevertheless. Guess she's never gonna win a popularity contest with David, but I think I understand her a bit more than I did." Don laughed. "She's a lot like you, Col."

"How so?" Colby sounded genuinely puzzled.

Don laughed out loud this time. "Complicated, buddy. Fucking complicated. And yeah, a little bit crazy too. " He looked serious for a moment. "But, like you, she believes passionately in right and wrong. I may not get your methods, Col, but I get the motivation, I really do. Why the hell do you think I joined the FBI in the first place? You see? We're all on the same side, my friend. We're a team. And you're part of that team. An important part." Don stood up and patted Colby's shoulder. "Monday morning, Colby. I expect you in on time. Are we clear?" Colby nodded and smiled. Without another word, Don walked back to the car leaving Colby to enjoy the last of the evening sun across the lake and the peace Don knew he craved so much…

On a hilltop road overlooking the lake, a figure stood looking down through binoculars at the man sitting by the water's edge. The binoculars were lowered slowly and Diane Armstrong smiled gently to herself. "Atta boy, CJ…" She turned and vanished into the wilderness…

As the sun slowly sank behind the hilltop, Colby just sat, letting the peace fill him, recharge him, help to burn away the last of the cancerous memories that had eaten away at him for years. He smiled. Yeah. He really was, finally, okay…

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The End (?)

Thanks go to:

AJ for her frequent kicks up the arse

TheNaggingCube, Jemma, AJ, LilyG, Sarasidle3 and everyone else kind enough to post reviews

Dylan Bruno for bringing Colby Granger to life

CJ (my husband) Technical Support (He hit the computer with a rolled up newspaper when it broke down)