Math and Music

by GSister

Summary:

There's something about Music that goes perfectly with Math.

Notes:

These Characters do not belong to me (but if they did, I'D share… probably.) That said, this story was written purely for self entertainment and no money is being made, has changed hands, or has been paid out for the contents therein. Special thanks to my Betas Van, and "S", (who has threatened me with a Death by Larabee-Glare if I mention her by more than that). Van is so good at finding and plugging plot holes that I never notice until she points out – if any are left it’s purely my fault. And then she graciously did all the work to format and post this for me. And it's totally S’s fault that I got into fan fiction in the first place. Without her encouragement (nagging), constructive criticism, and long talks on characterization, I might still be writing pathetically depressing purple poetry, and what prose I did write, would NEVER be finished…

~Constructive Criticism will be graciously accepted
~Flames will be used to toast marshmallows

Professor Charles Eppes adjusted his headphones, queuing up the music he wanted while he worked on the equations for his friend, Professor Larry Fleinhardt. Music had always been the perfect accompaniment for the math in Charlie's head, blocking out extraneous noise and focusing his thoughts with its rhythms and patterns. Rock music, with its fast pace and driving beat, was perfect for when the calculations came fast and furious, like today. Classical, Beethoven sonatas were for the times he needed to relax, to let the numbers dance and pirouette in his head until he drifted off to slumber. Folk music was for family car trips.

He smiled to himself, stopped in the act of raising the chalk in his hand to the big blackboard. His mother used to make them all sing along on those all too few family vacations; even his dad, with his gravelly, growly baritone. His father always tried to get out of it, made excuses, insisting that he couldn't carry a tune, and he didn't want to be the one responsible for ruining their hearing, but their mother would have none of it. She insisted, and Dad sang.

Charlie always wished his voice was more like his older brother Don's. Don had a pleasant tenor that always seemed to effortlessly carry the melody. Charlie didn't think his own voice was terrible; he didn't scare dogs or make small children cry when he sang, but he always felt it wasn't that spectacular. It was deeper than Don's, but not deep enough to be considered anything other than a tenor.

His dad used to insist that it was music that made Charlie into a mathematician. He would endlessly recount the time that he returned home from a long day at work to find his wife asleep on the couch, exhausted from caring for the few weeks old Charlie and the grade-school aged Don, and Don sitting next to the crib, singing to his infant brother. Charlie had one hand wrapped around one of Don’s fingers holding on tight. When Alan Eppes had entered the room, Don was singing the Inchworm song over and over again. A few years later, Alan claimed it as the reason that the three year old Charlie could multiply in his head. Math put to music.

Charlie's smile widened to a grin at the memory, and turning up the volume, allowed the music to block out the world as he let the numbers come.