Parallel Connections Over Symmetric Spaces by Dale (NC-17)

[jmtorres.livejournal.com]

Fandom: NUMB3RS
Pairing: Don/Charlie, Don/Kim Hall, Charlie/Kim Hall, Don/Amita, Charlie/Amita, Don/Terry, Don/OCs, Charlie/OCs...
Author on LJ: viggorlijah
Author Website: No longer extant, but here's the archive.org version
Why this must be read:

An explanation about that long, long pairing list: This is primarily a Don/Charlie story, but it's also a story of how they cope with wanting the thing they're not supposed to want by doing a fantastic number of stupid things with other people--including people the other had dibs on. The story opens with Charlie coming home from having sex with Kim Hall, Don's former fiancée, because he hoped she'd be able to tell him something about Don, about why he left Charlie for New Mexico, because even though Charlie knows, he doesn't understand. When they're together, it fucks them up; when they're apart, it still fucks them up. It's an unsolvable equation.

Charlie has a lot of questions he wants to ask. The more data, the easier this would be. He wants to just get a straight answer from Don. But Don doesn't tell Charlie things. He has to figure them out on his own, piece together the details and figure out what's happening. It's the way they've always been, and Charlie doesn't know if Don started doing it to keep Charlie interested, or if Don's always been this way. Everyone else seems to understand Don a lot better than Charlie.

Did you tell her why you moved to New Mexico, he thinks. No, not the right question.

He runs through a half dozen questions in his head and Don's hand stays on his shoulder. It's like a code. He has to say what he isn't allowed to say, and still get the message across.

He raises his hand and covers Don's. Don's thumb stops moving, but he doesn't pull his hand away. Charlie can feel the beat of Don's pulse in the vein under his palm. "Did you tell her?" he asks.

They're lying close enough that he can see himself reflected in Don's pupils. He can smell the toothpaste on Don's breath when he answers. "No," Don says.

He thinks it through, and maybe he understands. “I slept with her tonight," Charlie says finally, and Don inhales sharply and his face creases, and sharpens. His face goes blank, and Charlie can’t stand the look on Don’s face.

"She said, she said we were a lot alike. This afternoon." He feels Don's hand slide out from under his, and Don turns away. Charlie tries to explain. "One part enthusiasm, two parts obsession. She said you had to keep your CDs sorted, that you couldn't stand not knowing where they were."

Don sits up, and the bedspread tugs away from Charlie. "Get out," Don says sharply. "Go home."

"I didn't, I didn't think it would happen like that," Charlie says and falters when Don looks at him.

"You always think," Don says. "We're not - this wasn’t an accident, Charlie.” He pauses, breathes like it’s painful. “I didn't tell her because I wanted her to think I was a good guy, okay?"

This is a long, gorgeous, painful, beautiful exploration of Don and Charlie wanting and fighting and regretting and breaking up and getting back together again. They're so tightly bound up in each other that it's just inescapable.

Parallel Connections Over Symmetric Spaces