Bitter Suite, Chapter 2
By Jelsemium
Summary: What's a math goddess to do when she's not getting' enough lovin'?
Notes: This was written for the Numb3rs Write-off Community at LiveJournal. The prompt was to write a schmoop story about Charlie/Amita based on the word "Bitter."
Notes 2: The plot was inspired by a prompt over at the LJ community: "chocfic". Specifically: "Numb3rs, Het or Femslash-Amita/?: Charlie forgets about Amita one too many times, who does she turn to? – "If you were mine, I would treat you like the sex goddess you are."
Acknowledgements: Elysium1996 – Goddess of Beta Reading and Peeps.
The bouquet succeeded beyond expectations. Not only did it garner much admiration from students, faculty and Federal Agents (Larry going so far as to identify each of the yellow flowers for her.)
They also lasted quite well. Amita's impulse buy had been on a Wednesday. Friday afternoon (when she should have had a fresh bouquet from her boyfriend, not that she was bitter or anything) the flowers were still standing tall. #Who needs roses when you can have super bouquet?# she tried to convince herself.
She took the flowers home so she could enjoy them over the weekend. By Monday morning, she could see signs of age; particularly in the daffodils and what Larry had told her were mini pom-poms. ("Like what cheerleaders use," he had confirmed.)
She emptied out the water and sniffed. Yes, there was a definite air of mildew starting. She rinsed out the vase, put in fresh lemons (which didn't quite match the flowers as well as the ones that the florist had used).
She'd read that a small amount of bleach inhibited mold growth without hurting the flowers. As she had no intention of eating those lemons, she added a dash of Clorox to the fresh water.
As the week wore on, Amita expected that she would have to start discarding flowers. However, instead of wilting, they actually perked up. The flowers that she'd been sure were on their last legs - the daffodils and what she now identified as miniature carnations instead of pom-poms (well, Larry was an astrophysicist, not a botanist) - seemed to do especially well in her office window.
Watching the play of sunlight on her yellow flowers brightened her office and her mood all week.
When Friday rolled around again, she decided enough was enough. This was the twenty-first century. If she could send herself flowers, then she could do something about the lack of attention from Charlie.
#No point in moping about him ignoring you when all you have to do is trot your ass over to his office and invite him to lunch. You're sleeping with the man, for God sakes! This is hardly a bold move!#
She picked up her purse and marched out of her office, carefully locking it behind her. Considering how many spare keys there were floating around, locking the door seemed pointless. However, she seriously doubted that Millie or the janitor would steal her flowers.
And if Charlie were inclined to raid her office, then she wouldn't be in her current dilemma, would she?
When she got to Charlie's office, the door was locked. She hesitated, and then decided to leave a note on his chalkboard. His email box and voice mail were both jammed with messages; the chalkboard was the only thing she could be certain that he would look at.
She let herself in and was half-way across the room before she noticed that Charlie was, indeed present.
At least physically. He was seated at his desk, head tilted back and only the rise and fall of his chest halted Amita's instinct to dial 9-1-1.
She looked at him more closely than she had last week. There were dark circles under his eyes and his stubble failed to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. She felt a jolt of nausea when she realized the ill-fitting clothes weren't a fashion statement, but a testament to the amount of weight he had lost over the past month or so.
#What right you have to complain of being neglected when you never noticed how much strain your boyfriend was under?# she reproached herself bitterly. #Have you no eyes? It's obvious that whatever he's been working on obviously went beyond a "nasty case."#
She debated waking him and decided that he needed to sleep in a less awkward position. He didn't need a strained neck on top of everything else.
She moved towards him, then froze.
If whatever Charlie was working on was top-secret, then she shouldn't be here.
She retreated from his office, resisting the urge to even peek at his chalkboard. She returned to her office and picked up her phone.
"Wha…?" Charlie mumbled.
"Oh, Charlie, are you all right?" she blurted, her sincere worry overriding anything else in her voice.
"Um, yeah, must have fallen asleep," he muttered.
"Are you all right?" Amita repeated. "I can buy you lunch… Bring it to your office if you're in the middle of something."
"Hm? Ah, no thanks," Charlie said. "I actually finished…" Amita pictured him looking at his watch. "An hour ago. Yeah, they came by to pick up their report just before… Damn! I slept through my Baby Stats class!"
Amita chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm not the only one who's slept through Statistics 101. Millie's still gonna kill me."
"Have your dad write you a note," Amita suggested.
"Funny girl," Charlie said.
"So, dinner tonight?" Amita suggested.
Pause
"Unless you're not feeling up to it?"
"Um, actually, can I take a rain check?" Charlie asked. "I think I'd just better go home."
"Okay," Amita said, striving for cheerfulness. She hung up and sat back to admire her bouquet. #Damn! Maybe he thinks I'm going to dump him for my 'secret admirer.'#
She picked up her phone, but set it back down again. Charlie needed to sleep, not debate. She'd confess the next time she saw him.
Her vague guilt over the bouquet caused her to leave it in her office when she left Friday afternoon.
Besides, they seemed to do better in her office. She hadn't noticed any signs of mold in the lemons. Nor had she noticed any aging in the flowers, other than the roses becoming a darker yellow… probably getting ready to drop their petals.
TBC