Disclaimer: We do not own any of the recognizable characters from Numb3rs in this story. If anyone 'owns' them it would probably be the following: Cheryl Heuton, Nicolas Falacci, Scott Free Productions and CBS Network. Unrecognizable characters are our creation and are not, despite appearances, meant to portray any "real life" person or persons. We're both poor college students, not worth suing.
Thanks: Beta Readers and Editors, Antoinette and Ely. Without their help, this tale would not be as tightly written as it currently is. Thank you, ladies!
Feedback: Positive, negative, scantily clad and sweaty FBI Agents … we'll welcome it all. Certain creative license has been taken by the writers in order to make certain scenes fly by or, just because we're not Native Los Angelinos.
Warnings: Suisan doesn't DO warnings. Seriously. Amy doesn't DO character death. Seriously.
Synopsis: It was just the flu, so how'd he end up in ICU fighting for his life?
Arsenic and New Kevlar
A Numb3rs story
By
Amy D. & Suisan
Okay, that's the last time I let David pick where we eat lunch. F.B.I. Special Agent Colby Granger thought. Who would think that hot dogs would make you sick?
He eased himself down into his office chair and started rummaging through his desk looking for the Pepto Bismol he knew was there. Truth be told, it wasn't the hot dogs that had made him queasy, his stomach had been bothering him for the better part of a week. He kept telling himself that he would go see his doctor when he had a chance. That chance just hadn't come up yet. His fingers closed on the bottle of Pepto and he shook out a couple of tablets, washing them down with the remains of his coffee. He needed his stomach to settle, he didn't have the time to get sick.
The Pepto appeared to work, allowing Colby to return to the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, however appearances could be so deceiving. A few minutes later, he was making a mad dash for the Men's Room.
"Megan, where'd Colby go?" Agent Don Eppes, Colby's team leader, asked his second-in-command. It was close to two o'clock and he hadn't seen Colby in the last couple of hours, which was strange. Unless he was working on leads, which he wasn't at the moment, Colby was usually at his desk, trying to keep up with the overwhelming mountains of paperwork.
Megan Reeves looked up from the report she was reading and cast a glance at Colby's empty desk. When she didn't see him there, she frowned and stood up. "David?" she called to the fourth member of Don's team, David Sinclair. "Have you seen Colby recently?"
David thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not in the last 10 minutes."
Before Don could say anything further, Colby appeared, coming from the direction of the Men's Room. "You okay?" He asked, startled by the greenish tinge to Colby's normally healthy complexion.
Colby nodded, "Yeah. It's just that something's been bugging my stomach lately. I haven't figured out what yet." He sat down, and then looked up at Don. "I'll be fine."
Don took in Colby's pale face and dulled gaze and said "Whatever. Go home. Before you give whatever you have to the rest of us."
"You sure?" Colby asked.
"Absolutely. I'd rather have you go home and miss a couple of days, then stay here and infect everyone." Don told him.
Both Megan and David nodded in agreement.
"All right, you don't have to tell me twice." Colby said, with a small smile.
"Can you drive home?" Megan asked. "You know one of us would be happy to drive you."
Colby shook his head. "Thanks for the offer but I'm not that bad off yet." He stood, took his jacket off the back of the chair and headed to the elevator.
"Call and give me an update tomorrow." Don called after him.
Colby waved a hand in his direction to show he heard.
"If I don't hear from him by 7 tomorrow morning, I'm going to his apartment and kicking his door in." Don said, to no one in particular, pushing his concern down deep inside.
Colby stopped at Von's Supermarket on the way home and picked up some soup, crackers and 7UP. He hoped what had worked on him as a kid, would work now. He also bought a second bottle of Pepto Bismol just in case.
He made it all the way home and up to the mailboxes of his apartment complex before his stomach started up again. He stopped at the mailboxes, shifted his groceries from his right to his left hand, loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Automatically, he checked his mailbox, dropping the mail into the grocery bag. He'd look at it later.
He turned away from the mailboxes and very nearly collided with a neighbor of his, Hattie MacPherson. In her late 50's, Hattie came almost up to Colby's shoulder. A slender woman, her hazel eyes, framed by her ginger colored hair, radiated worry.
"Colby. You're home early." She said. "What's wrong? You don't look at all well."
He flashed her a quick smile and said, "It's just something I ate." He kinda knew Hattie, kinda not. He had done a bunch of odd jobs around her apartment when she had needed the help and she had returned the favor by cooking him dinner. But that was as far as the relationship went. She was harmless and he got a home cooked meal a couple of times a month.
"You're sure? I can bring you something, if you don't feel up to cooking."
He didn't want to be rude but he just wanted to be left alone. Still, he looked down at Hattie and said, "That would be nice. Could you come by a couple of hours from now?"
She beamed. "Of course. That'll give me plenty of time to whip something up."
"Great, just knock on the door." He grimaced slightly and walked away, headed for the stairs.
The timid knock on his front door woke Colby from the fitful nap he'd managed to get. He yawned, looked at the door and remembered.
"Come in." He called out.
Hattie walked in, her hands wrapped around a medium sized covered dish. "Colby? I hope you like this..." She closed the door and her hazel eyes unerringly found him on the couch. "Oh, dear! You actually look worse... and that wasn't very tactful of me."
Colby laughed. "Well, the truth hurts."
"Hurts? You're hurting?" Hattie asked as she placed the dish on the kitchen counter separating the kitchen proper from the living area.
He shook his head. "It's a phrase. I'll be fine." He swung his feet off the couch, stood up and joined her in the kitchen. "What did you bring me?"
"Oh, and here I thought you were talking about actual physical pain." She gestured to the dish she'd brought over. "Now, there should be enough to feed a growing boy like you, it's my personal version of an old classic. Chicken Noodle soup with real egg noodles and not that damn 'whole grain' crap that's about all you can find nowadays."
"Thank you, Hattie." He took the lid off the dish and inhaled. "It smells wonderful."
"It's no problem, I haven't had much call to make food like I used to ... and I do like cooking for healthy appetites. Even when they're not feeling well."
"I'll make sure it doesn't go to waste."
"You do that." She fussed with her hands for a few moments before shoving them into the pockets of her apron. "Colby... is there anything you would like to have tomorrow? Just in case you're still not feeling well ... maybe something you used to get as a kid? I probably won't make it like your mother did, but I'd like to try?"
Colby looked at Hattie, a little surprised, then it occurred to him... Hattie was a widow who was just looking for someone to mother. "Hattie, you don't have to do that. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow."
"I don't mind, Colby. Besides, I have yet to pay you back for helping me with those damn easy-to-put-together shelves that you helped me with last month."
"You're sure? I don't want you going up and down the stairs unless you have to."
"You're worried about me when you're not feeling well? Oh, your mother did raise you right. I'll be fine, Colby. The stairs aren't that much of a bother and it's actually good for me to get out and about more often."
Colby grinned. "Let me think about it. It's very kind of you to offer."
"You do that." She dug around in her pockets for a second, then came up with a card in her right hand and handed it to him. "Here's my phone number. If you need me to cook again or help you out in any other way, call me. I'm usually up by 7 A.M. and don't get to sleep much before midnight. You call me. Day or night if you need help. All right?"
He nodded. "Yes ma'am. I promise."
"Good. Now go eat and then get some rest ... and not on that couch." She opened the door to the apartment and stepped outside.
He smiled. "Yes, ma'am." He repeated himself.
When the door closed behind her, Colby could swear that she'd left behind the slight odor of carnations and roses. He went back into the tiny kitchen, grabbed a large mug and poured some of Harriet MacPherson's Chicken Noodle soup. He then sat down in front of the TV to eat and watch the news.
He'd just barely managed to finish off the broth when his stomach roiled and he made a beeline for the bathroom. After a few minutes spent in sheer misery, Colby crawled into bed and prayed he really would feel better in the morning.
Colby's cell phone rang three times before he woke up and answered it. It usually only took one ring.
"Granger..."
"CeeJay?"
Colby blinked a couple of times and waited for his brain to start working. "Dad?"
"Yeah, son, it's Dad. You get so wrapped up in a case or something that you forgot to make your weekly call to the old man?" Gareth Granger said.
Weekly call? The light bulb went on and Colby groaned. He called his dad every week just to shoot the breeze with him. He blinked again and looked for a clock. What time was it?
"Sorry, Dad. I'm not on top of my game right now." Colby said, hoping he didn't sound as bad as he felt.
"You do sound like shit. What's up?"
"Think it was something I ate."
"Just something you ate, not that damn flu virus that's making the rounds?"
"Not quite sure. Don had me go home early today."
"Don? That's your boss, right? Man probably didn't want you infecting everyone else."
Colby laughed, or tried to. "You sound like him."
"And you really sound like crap, Colby James. You got a personal doc down there yet?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You get your butt down to see him first thing in the morning then. Don't take any chances. You know that if you've got the flu you need to be on antibiotics to stave off the secondary infections."
"Yes, sir." He grimaced and rolled on his side, his stomach cramping up on him at the wrong moment.
"Colby? CeeJay? You all right?" Gareth Granger's voice was full of concern.
"I'll be fine, Dad. Really." Colby said. If only he could convince himself of that statement. He swallowed and prayed.
"Right, I hear the non-verbal there... 'Dad, leave me alone, I'm a grown man'."
"The hearing's improving." Colby said, fighting off the pain as best he could.
"I am entitled to worry about my youngest ... no matter how damn old he manages to get."
"Yes, sir." Colby appreciated his father's concern, he did, he just didn't think it would do any good to worry him unnecessarily.
"You do realize your mother was hoping to talk to you, right?"
Colby groaned. "Mom'll have a fit if she hears me like this."
Gareth laughed. "I heard that. Don't worry, she went to bed after I told her I would call you. You want me to tell her you're fighting off the flu?"
"Yeah, that'll..." Colby swallowed and prayed some more. "That'll work."
"I'll do you one better, CeeJay. I'll tell her you'll call the minute you're back to your normal self. That you got caught up on a case and I barely caught you in between runs home to change clothes."
Colby smiled. Leave it to his father to make up something so his mother wouldn't worry. "Think she'll buy it?" he asked.
"She'll buy it. After all, she knows I wouldn't lie to her if I thought you were really sick."
"Okay."
"By the way, I might be down your way later this week or early next week at the latest. Sheriff Leon Leland told me about a prisoner at Los Angeles County who's wanted on warrants out of my department and his that will need picking up."
"Cool. I'll show you around...around town." Colby said. It would be nice to see his dad, if only for a short time.
Gareth laughed again. "Not for long. If I do decide to do the pick up run, it'll pretty much be in one night and gone the following morning. Unless the sonovabitch decides at the last minute to fight extradition on the aggravated burglary charges."
Colby's stomach cramped up again, dragging a groan from him. He hoped his father hadn't heard it.
"Right... I'll let you go. Get some sleep and don't forget to see your doctor if you're not better by tomorrow, CeeJay."
"Yes, sir."
"Night, CeeJay. Take care of yourself. Remember, you and Cody are your mother's only hope for grandbabies!" Gareth Granger hung up before Colby could respond to that obvious taunt.
Colby smiled and dropped the phone on the bedside table. He climbed to his feet and managed to make to the bathroom before he emptied his stomach yet again. He leaned back against the bathroom wall and waited for the nausea to pass.
Day Two
Sunrise came at 6:17 the next morning but Colby had been awake long before the sun peaked over the horizon. He had slept off and on all night, his stomach trying to turn itself inside out. At least, he hadn't thrown up any more, not there was anything left in his stomach to throw up. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, the sun creeping across the floor, trying to convince himself that he had to get up and get something to eat. It took some time but he finally, finally, talked himself into getting up.
Slowly, he levered himself upright, then slid his legs over the edge of the bed and settled them on the floor. So far so good. Before he could think further on it, he stood and slowly made his way to the kitchen. No protest from his stomach yet. The remains of Hattie's chicken noodle soup was exactly where he had left it the night before. His stomach turned over at the sight of it.
He swallowed, picked up the dish and stuck it in the refrigerator. That chore done, he simply stood there, trying to figure out what to do next.
Food. Get something to eat. A little voice inside his head said, reminding him of his original reason for coming into the kitchen in the first place. He surprised himself by having the energy to fix a bowl soup, from a can, and get some 7UP to drink.
Probably is the stomach flu. He thought, after finishing the bowl and not having to hurl. He left the bowl in the sink, took his glass and went back into the bedroom. He eased himself down and again, was happy that he didn't have to run for the toilet. He took a sip of 7UP, set the glass down and doubled over in pain.
What the fuck? He took a deep breath, then another one and the pain slowly subsided. He lay down on the bed and concentrated on his breathing. His eyes swept over the bedside clock. It read 7:28 A.M. Well, he wasn't going into work today, that much was apparent. He could hardly sit up. He reached out a hand and felt around on the nightstand until his hand came in contact with his cell phone. He dialed the number from memory and waited for the connection to go through.
"Eppes." Don answered on the second ring.
"Don, it's Colby." Lord, I hope I don't sound as bad as I feel.
"Colby, hi. How are you feeling?" Don asked.
"Not too hot. I think I'm gonna stay home today." Colby replied, gritting his teeth as a wave of nausea swept over him.
"Okay. You are going to see a doctor, right?"
"You sound like my dad." Colby replied.
Don laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment. What the…." His voice trailed off.
"Don, I think I'll be back in tomorrow." Colby said, speaking up just a little louder to get his boss's attention once more; the man seemed distracted.
"So you think you'll be back when?" Don asked after a moment's silence.
"Hopefully, tomorrow." The last word came out almost as grunt as Colby fought off a stomach cramp.
"All right. Can we get you anything? You know we wouldn't have a problem stopping at the grocery store and picking something up."
"Nah. I got a neighbor downstairs who's offered to cook for me but thanks anyway."
"Leave it to you to find a woman to cook for you." Don teased him.
"Well, ya know…" Colby replied.
"Yeah, I do, with you anyway." Don said, sounding more distracted and a little disgusted at the same time. "I gotta go. You wouldn't believe what's going on here. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, call. I don't care what time it is. Understand?"
Colby swallowed then said, "Yeah, I understand."
"All right. I'll talk with you later. Bye."
"Bye." Colby flipped the phone closed and dropped it back on the nightstand. That chore taken care of, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
Colby dozed off and on all morning. In between, he managed to get something down without throwing it up. It was only 7UP but at least it was something. He was even feeling the slightest bit better and was beginning to hold out some hope of going back to work the next day. Now, if he could just get his stomach to settle, he would be fine.
"Colby dear, you up and about?" Hattie's voice drifting through the door was just loud enough to finish doing that her too soft knocking didn't, waking him up from a fitful nap.
Colby awoke with a start and looked toward the source of the noise. What the...?
Soft tapping on the door rattled through the apartment again.
Aw, crap, bet that's Hattie. Colby thought. He managed to get himself up right and stumbled toward the door. Okay, so maybe going to work tomorrow is a little much.
He opened the door and leaned on the frame. "Hi, Hattie."
"I woke you, didn't I? I thought I waited long enough so that you'd be up." She peered up into his face. "And you look like you really needed the sleep too. I'm such a bother..."
He smiled at her. "It's okay. You need something?"
"Just checking on you, Colby Dear. I knew you hadn't gone into work and wanted to see if you needed anything this evening?"
His stomach muttered at him and he tried not to make a face. "I'll think about it. I'm not too hungry right now."
"Tummy still acting up?"
He nodded. "It's got to be that stomach bug going around."
"You can't be too careful with that bug ... you have enough clear liquids so you don't get dehydrated?" She asked. The more she talked, the more she sounded like a worried mother.
"Yes, ma'am." Colby said. He leaned more heavily against the doorframe. If Hattie didn't hurry up, she was going to be looking down at him, not up.
"All right, I'm going to be honest with you, Colby."
He quirked an eyebrow. "About what Hattie?"
"I'm planning on making a large batch of home-made macaroni and cheese, and while I'll be freezing some for later in the month, I will make far too much for just little ol' me." She grinned slyly up at him, "So you want part of the batch this evening while it's fresh from the oven?"
Now, that actually sounded good. Colby hadn't had Mac N' Cheese in forever and he had loved it as a kid. "Sure. Just knock and thank you."
"No need to thank me, Colby. I should be the one thanking you! Before you moved in, very few of my neighbors would help me out when I made too large batches of anything. You, however, seem to appreciate home cooking. I did notice that you polished off the plate of brownies I made last week."
A slow smile crept across his face. "Shouldn't waste food. It's a sin."
She let out a delightful laugh. "Growing boys ... hell, just men with active stomachs ... you are the reason so many of us women like to bake and cook." She patted him lightly on the arm and stepped back from the door. "Now, you go back in there and rest up. I should have a serving or two of the Mac N' Cheese ready and here no later than 7:30." Hattie turned on elevated walkway and walked with a spring in her step to the stairwell. Clearly she was looking forward to cooking for him and he was just happy to let her.
He shut the door and made it as far as the couch before he flat ran out of energy. Whatever it was he had, he hoped it would be over with by tomorrow. He hated feeling this way.