spikedluv: (n3: don&alan - checkmate by delgaserasca)
[personal profile] spikedluv posting in [community profile] numb3rsflashfic
Title: Faith
Pairing/Characters: Amita, Faith
Rating/Category: PG13/Gen (or Pre-Slash, if you squint)
Word Count: 500 words
Spoilers: Nothing specific, through season three to be safe.
Summary: Amita meets a mystery woman.
Notes/Warning: Crossover with Ats.
Written: October 10, 2009



Amita felt eyes on her, but when she glanced up from the lecture notes she was reviewing, no one sitting at the surrounding tables appeared to be looking her way. She went back to her notes, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that she was being watched.

Amita set down the pen she was using to mark up her notes. She leaned back in her chair and picked up her cup of coffee. Under the guise of relaxing and enjoying her coffee she perused the area around her. Students and professors, all caught up in their own thing -- reading, or chatting with friends, or texting -- and not paying her any attention.

It wasn’t until she expanded her search area that Amita saw her. Pretty, with long dark hair. She leaned against the brick wall surrounding the patio, and she was staring right at Amita. Even when their eyes met she didn’t show any sign of embarrassment at having been caught, or look away.

Amita stood and picked up her notes and pen. She automatically patted her pocket to make sure she had her wallet, and then she picked up her coffee and crossed the patio towards the woman. And still she didn’t move.

Amita stopped in front of her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The woman made the effort to smile, though it didn’t appear natural. “Sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it? Staring at you like that.”

“It was unnerving,” Amita said. “I don’t remember ever having seen you around, are you a student here?”

“Just visiting. I’m a, uh, investigator, actually. Looking into the recent deaths that happened near the campus.”

“You’re with the police?”

“Not exactly. Private.”

“The news reports said those people were attacked by muggers.”

“Muggers, yeah, wearing weird rubber Halloween masks.”

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry. Listen, I should get back to my job, and let you get back to . . . whatever you were doing.”

“What exactly is your job?” Amita asked, wondering why a private investigator was looking into muggings.

“My job is to keep the world safe so people like you can go to college.”

“I’m a professor, actually,” Amita automatically corrected, bristling a little bit over the enigmatic reply as much as at the assumption that she was a student. She’d worked damned hard for those degrees.

The woman gave Amita an impressed look. “Cool. Oh, and for puppies. Because I like puppies.”

The woman turned away, and Amita said, “Wait! Why were you staring at me?”

“You reminded me of someone. Freaky resemblance, except for how you don’t appear to be suffering from a psychotic break.”

Amita heaved an exasperated sigh. “Am I supposed to understand anything you say?”

This time the smile was real. “No. Can I ask your name?”

“Amita. Amita Ramanujan.”

“Amita. Pretty name.” She turned away again.

“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

The woman turned back, looking at Amita as she walked backwards. “I’m Faith. I’ll be seeing you around, Amita Ramanujan.”

The End
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