To India, Away! - A Numb3rs Fan Fiction Attempt
Disclaimer: Alas, Numb3rs and all that is affilated with it is, without a single doubt, not mine. Nor do I care, because it seems like a huge responsibility. I just attempt it. (See title above for proof.)
Amita yawned tiredly, rubbing her eyes and slightly smudging the lightly dusted makeup that covered her eyelids. Thinking was rather a difficult concept to begin to approach, but one idea floated sluggishly to her mind: 'I know I wanted to go to India, but was a seven AM flight really the best departure time? I didn't sleep at all last night, woke at dawn, and all these security measures…'
"Amita, you'd best open your eyes and start walking! You're next to go through the screening." Amita's grandmother gave a little shove on the small of Amita's back, pushing her forward in the short line of people at the airport that morning. Her head jolted upwards, eyes opening wide to the bright white lights of the terminal, and she shuffled forwards. Slipping off her shoes, Amita felt the chill of the icy tile floor rise up through her feet, and she dumped her sandals along with her keys and other things into a bucket to be screened. Shuffling faster to get away from the cold ground and get her sandals back, she went through the metal detector without a glance behind her, realizing too late she had coins in her pocket.
Shrill alarms went off seconds later, the peal of the signal causing a thudding ache in Amita's head as her inner ear rang painfully. 'Wonderful. Superb. Just what I need before a flight across an ocean.'
"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to stop." A security officer stepped up to her, stopping her from walking any further. Amita's toes curled away from the tile, and she sighed inwardly. 'This. Floor. So. Cold. It's. Just. Too. Early. Stupid money getting in the way.' She lifted her arms and spread her legs so the detecting stick in the officer's hand could pinpoint the problem.
"Uh, alright. It's just some change I left a few days ago in my pocket, I believe. I'm really sorry." And right on cue, the small beeping of the stick went off as it passed over Amita's front pocket. Emptying it out to prove her point, she shrugged her shoulders, offered another apology and proceeded forward, grabbing her things and sitting on a chair on the others side.
As she slipped her sandals back on and reached for a jacket she had stuffed in her carry-on bag, she again though groggily. 'Oh how I wish for something to make me warm. Like my bed. Or a cup of tea. Or maybe Charlie's arms. Wait – what?' Her thoughts were interrupted however, when her grandmother walked up.
Frowning, the older lady muttered, "Tsk, tsk Amita. Only five minutes into our adventure and you're already finding yourself in trouble. No good will come of that, my dear." A wry smile crossed her face, and scooping up her pack, she said louder, "Now which direction should we be headed? This entire place is so confusing… Ah, there! Terminal C it is."
She started off in a jaunty little walk, the material of her bright sari catching a few people's eye, whereas Amita's regular faded jeans and bland top blended into the norm of practically every person passing through that wing of the airport.
While her grandmother chatted gaily about their family over in India, Amita stayed quiet and contemplative, simply listening respectfully or nodding her head when appropriate. However, after about five minutes of paying very close attention, she found her mind blissfully wandering off and refusing to concentrate on anything that came out of her grandmother's mouth. While her eyes were trained solely on the diminutive woman, she couldn't for the life of her stop her brain from thinking of two very important subjects in her life: numbers, and of all the crazy things, Charlie. They had gotten all the way to their stop, and Amita's grandmother broke off to talk with the woman behind the counter to double check their departure schedule. Finding a few empty seats right by the boarding dock, Amita settled down and continued to let her mind have free reign over her.
She didn't know exactly why, but whenever she let her mind get away from her, one of the few places it ran away to were thoughts of Charlie. Memories with Charlie, problems with Charlie, moments with Charlie, dreams with Charlie… the list went on. And not one of them was bad. Perhaps it was a bit strained at times, a smidgen tense, but never a bad thought of Charlie. Of course, it was pretty obvious to anyone their friendship was becoming more than just an old student to teacher bond, even to Amita and Charlie themselves. They had worked on a lot of things together, and their passions both lay in one concrete world of numbers and equations. They had an innate, multi-layered connection. The only thing to consider was, could such a connection survive a relationship?
Amita didn't know the answer, nor did she know of Charlie's feelings. The entire affair (no, pun not intended) was as up in the air as anything. But the most recent thought of Charlie was the most confusing of all. It was that little escapade in Charlie's office. Well, escapade was the wrong word, really. She just leapt up and kissed the man, then ran right out of the room like a schoolgirl. What she did still surprised her.
But still, thoughts of Charlie were never bad, and this one was just like all the others. Well, perhaps she could qualify it as being just a little bit better. Amita smiled inwardly at the memory. Charlie had just stood there, speechless as could be afterwards, not even knowing what he had done to merit such a response. Amita was still a bit unsure as to the reason as well.
That had occurred weeks ago, however, and Amita hadn't seen much of Charlie since that last case they had worked with Don. She was much too busy working on studying the Indian culture and finding a place for the two girls, Santi and her sister, to stay while they went back to school. She felt a strange attachment to them, especially after their entire ordeal, and offered to help them any way that she could. She had even gone so far as to set them up interviews around town to help them find a job.
Yet all this dedication had severely cut down her time to just spend quality time with the professor she most liked to be around. Amita was still slightly scarred from all that she had learned about the black market organ trade, and she hesitated talking to anyone about it. When Spring Break had come around, she had already planned on leaving with her grandmother, and threw her whole self into making sure all the plans were ready and foolproof. The opportune moment to speak with Charlie had successfully flown right out the window, in her case. Even her goodbyes were hurried and cut short the night before; her grandmother had wanted her to get a full night's sleep and double check all their packing just to be sure everything was in order. By the time she had everything checked over, and checked over again, she barely had a moment to just hug everyone quickly and get ready for bed before she felt like falling over in exhaustion.
Now, here she was, sitting tired as could be in Terminal C of the Los Angeles Airport, with an hour to while away before departure. What was she to do now? Deciding she would surprise her grandmother, she snuck out her camera and angled it appropriately. With a flash, she had the perfect shot – the first photograph of a soon to be wild adventure all the way in the Middle East.
Figuring she had plenty of time to spare, she got up from her seat and wandered over to the window, gazing out at the huge machines, one of which would take them to their destination. She knew it wasn't to be a straight shot over the ocean or anything – that sort of trip would be ridiculously long – but she wondered what she would do those many hours upon such a vehicle. There would be in-flight entertainment and such, but would that keep her attention long enough? Thankfully, she had a writer's pad to keep her company, in case her grandmother fell asleep or she had the urge to write down an equation. Feeling a tap upon her shoulder, she turned around.
A tall man in his late twenties or so was behind her, also gazing at the airplanes outside the huge windows. "Would you care to get a cup of coffee with me? You looked rather alone." He smiled, and Amita had another flitting thought of Charlie dash across her mind. She blushed a little at the affect he had upon her.
"Oh, well, I'm really with my grandmother for this trip, but a cup of coffee would be nice."
"That sounds excellent; invite her along as well, if you wish." Amita nodded, gracious for this man's kindness. She definitely needed someone to push to an early morning caffeine dose upon her. Striding over to where her grandmother sat, she asked her if she would like to come along. Politely declining, the elderly lady insisted she would wait for the plane to arrive. Amita found it endearing how dedicated her grandmother was; she was not about to let one miniscule detail of the trip slip away from her grasp.
With about forty-five minutes until her scheduled departure, Amita and the man, who introduced himself as Michael, sat down at a small table with two steaming cups and muffins. They began to talk, just thankful to have someone their age around to spend the time with as they waited to be called to their flight. After another fifteen minutes or so they were really enjoying the other's company.
"How is your tea?" Michael asked, as he watched Amita stir in another spoonful of honey and lick the still-sweet spoon, almost greedily.
"It's delicious. And your coffee?" She replied thoughtfully.
"The same. I'm assuming your going to India, am I correct?"
"Yes, how could you tell?"
"Your grandmother is wearing a sari and you are wearing a shirt with a design of the Taj Mahal on it." He said; a smile on his face.
"Oh, I had forgotten," Amita laughed, "I find it's still rather early in the morning for me."
"It's nearly 6:30!"
"Anything before seven is practically torture."
"You seem to be enjoying myself, though."
"I must say, you are excellent company."
"Well thank you!" He said, obviously surprised at the compliment.
"Don't sound so shocked, it's true! By the way, where are you going?"
"Oh, I'm headed for –" But his reply was cut off as the speakers sounded the number of a flight boarding for Hawai'i. "Well, that's me!"
"Hawai'i! How exciting."
"India is sure to be just as amazing. I went there once, as a child, when my father moved a lot for his company. Now I'm just visiting old family throughout the states as a way to stay connected." As he said this, he picked up his half empty cup and slung his jacked over his shoulder, starting to walk away towards his carry-on bags and his boarding dock, pulling his pass out of his pocket as well.
"Well, have a good time!" she called to him.
"You as well!" With that, and a short wave of hand, he disappeared down the long hallway to a waiting plane.
Amita had also got up out of her seat at the table in the airport café, grasping onto the warmth of her tea, and after she waved back, walked over to her grandmother, who was now supposedly reading a book, but keeping a very close eye on both the attendant behind the counter and Amita.
"Was he nice?"
"Very."
"I am glad you are finally spending some time with people suitable."
"People suitable for what?" As soon as Amita asked, she already knew. 'Not again…First from Mother, now from you?'
"Marriage, of course! You know most of your cousins your age in India are already on their way to making families for themselves." She said, sounding very disappointed that Amita wasn't dating, let alone engaged or married.
"Grandma, I'm just not ready yet! I've just gotten out of all that school work, and now that I'm working with all the professors I just can't find time for dating and that sort of thing."
"Oh, making up excuses for your Grandmother eh? I saw that one boy last night. He looked just fine to me."
"Who?" Amita tried to act dumb.
"You know him, Amita! Don't play smart with me. Younger boy, curly brown hair, he smelled like chalk dust and attic."
"Charlie? He does smell like chalk dust, doesn't he…? Oh, and he works in his garage, not his attic."
"Just the same, anyways. Now, how come you're not talking with him? He's smart, good looking, and you went to school with him."
"Grandma! I was taught by him, there's a rather large difference, wouldn't you say? Not to mention that…" Amita drifted off, one of the uncomfortable memories of Charlie coming to her head – that disastrous dinner they had once.
"Oh, so you have been out with him before, haven't you? I knew it. Well, I have to say, you'd make an excellent couple. I saw it in both your eyes. And grandmothers know these sorts of things."
With that, she got up and walked over to the desk once more, much to the displeasure of the attendant, who looked almost as tired as Amita felt. Thankfully, they only had a few more minutes before they were to board.
Gathering their things, Amita put everything back into the bags, including her notepad, pencils, and camera which she had out earlier. Moments later, after finishing up her tea, and splitting the rest of her muffin with her grandmother, their flight was called over the loudspeaker, even though they were close enough to hear the woman say it. A flurry of activity ensued, as the most important customers were let on first, then the elderly and the children. Amita's grandmother raced ahead, making sure their seats would be saved.
As the regular coach customers were called on board, Amita also rushed ahead, wanting to be able to spot her Grandmother quickly and sit down in peace. She found the woman easily enough, again her bright garments giving her away.
Again settling down, Amita took the window seat, so she could see as much as possible on their flight. They were almost directly on the wing, which might make the ride a bit bumpier because of the engines, but Amita didn't mind. If she got airsick, she could always take some medicine to calm herself down.
Right before liftoff, Amita had a sudden idea on a problem that had been nagging at her the past few days, and quickly retrieved her pad and pencil. Scratching out everything her mind flung at her, she only glanced out the window once or twice as the scenery fell out in a blanket below her. Very pleased with her results, she closed the pad and stuck the pencil back into one of her small bags.
While the plane was leveling out, Amita took the time for her ears to adjust, popping them occasionally when the pressure changes became too much for them to bear. The drop in pressure was very significant and noticeable at their growing height from sea-level.
The attendant coming by with drinks about half an hour into their flight, Amita turned to her grandmother to ask if she wanted anything. It appeared the woman was fast asleep, however, so Amita simply waved the attendant on. Not finding anything better to do, Amita re-opened her pad and began to just sketch whatever came to mind.
However, she soon realized she wasn't sketching just anything. It was a face. A very familiar face. Amita almost dropped her pencil in surprise when she realized – it was Charlie's face. A very good recreation as well, Amita noted. Deciding she was done drawing for the moment, she hurriedly closed the notebook again, but not before her grandmother got a very good glimpse of what was on the page. Appearances can be very deceiving, and her grandmother smiled to herself as she understood what Amita clearly did not.
'I knew I was right.' She then truly drifted off into a happy, dreamless sleep.
Amita, however, did not fall right to sleep. Seriously wondering what made her draw that picture, she stuffed the pad down between the seats and curled up by the window, again thinking. Soon enough, however, she too was asleep.
"Charlie, can we talk?" Amita found herself speaking aloud, though the circumstances were odd. Could this possibly be a dream? She didn't know for sure, she didn't really have control over her body.
"Sure, what's on your mind Amita?" He was giving her a curious look.
"I think, I think I really like you, Charlie." Her words were quiet and slow, they stunned her. Did she really just say that?
"Really?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do."
"That's, um, nice." Charlie looked a bit uncomfortable, and Amita grew worried.
"Don't you like me too?"
"Uh, uh, I think I do." They were suddenly very, very close to one another.
"This is so surreal." Amita didn't realize she had voiced this out loud.
"It is, isn't it?" Charlie answered her.
Amita went to nod her head, but suddenly she found her lips solidly against Charlie's, in a very needy kiss. Thoroughly surprised, she at first just stood there shocked, but finally managed to break away.
"What was that?" Amita cried, gasping.
Charlie smiled very wide, his eyes aglow. "I don't know, but I have to say I really enjoyed it."
Also smiling, Amita looked up at Charlie. Giving him a huge hug, she leaned her head upward to return the kiss, as quickly as possible. However, she smacked her head against a wall of some sort.
"OW!" Amita woke sharply, after whacking her head against the window of the airplane.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" Another attendant had been walking by.
"Oh, I'm fine, I just bumped my head." The attendant nodded and continued down the aisle.
Amita, by this point, was very confused, and muttered something akin to what she remembered clearly from the dream. "What in the world was that?" Touching her lips, she felt the imagined fire of Charlie's kiss, and felt her heart thud sharply in her chest. That entire dream was so… believable. Fanning her face with her hand, either from the heat of the dream, or the heat of the sun coming through her window, Amita thought of what she should do.
'I promised I would write to everyone anyways. Why not write Charlie a letter now, and be ahead of my plans?'
Taking out her pad once more, she flipped through the pages, finally stopping at the sketch. Taking a sidelong glance at her grandmother once more, she quickly titled and dated the page. She then flipped it over and turned to a fresh sheet.
Dear Charlie…
After a few hours, a few revisions, and a few new sheets of paper, Amita scanned over the finished product. Deeming it satisfactory, she ripped it from it's binding, and folded it in an envelope. She could address and stamp it to be sent off once they got settled at her great aunt's home in India. Sealing it shut, she gave it a quick kiss, and put it back in the pocket of the writing pad.
Lunch came around, soon after Amita's grandmother awoke, and they ate their small meal in companionable silence. Feeling much more at ease about their trip, Amita fell into a deep sleep once more, completely dreamless.
Well, maybe she dreamed of a few simple things… after all, she was headed for a beautiful cultured country, full of exotic new experiences.
A smile crossed Amita's lips as she dreamt, 'To India, Away!'
Oh, and for Kelsey: I know it didn't have as much 'hot action' as you would put it, but this was as far as I will go for right now. Hey, at least I had them dream-kiss.