Title: Invisible
Pairing: Amita/Charlie
Author's note: Bonus points for whoever can guess what song insprired and is worked into this.

x

The painting on the wall had been hanging there since they redecorated. A small painting of a boat sailing in the ocean decorated with a gold leafed frame. It held no special meaning for either of them; they had picked it up at a flea market for a couple of dollars, using it to fill the bare space in the hallway.

The familiar scratching of a pen on paper drifted across the room as Charlie worked some complicated Math problem. Amita sighed silently and aimed the remote at the television, switching to a movie and turning the volume up.

After ten minutes of trying to work with the movie in the background, Charlie lowered his pen and looked up in frustration. “Could you turn that down a little, please?” His words were polite, but Amita knew her boyfriend well enough to know that he was irritated.

She quietly acquiesced and turned the television off, getting to her feet and grabbing a nearby notebook and pen. The young woman passed the painting on the wall as she moved to the dining room, where she slid into a seat at the table.

Biting the lid of the pen, she thought about how things with Charlie were always like this; they would come home from CalSci, have supper where they would make light conversation, then Charlie would immerse himself in his numbers and equations.

As she put pen to paper, a single tear slid down her cheek as she realised that she couldn’t remember the last time she and Charlie had experienced real fun and enjoyed each other’s company.

x

Charlie’s mind was completely distracted when he arrived home the next day. His brain was so busy compiling data for Don’s latest request that he didn’t realise he hadn’t seen Amita since lunch time and her car wasn’t in the driveway.

The house was dark as he pushed the door open, and for the first time he realised something was wrong. Calling Amita’s name as he moved through the house received no response. He flicked lights on as he went, revealing nothing but empty rooms.

In the dining room, he paused when he saw a crisp piece of white paper sitting on the centre of the dark wood. Glancing at it, revealed it to be Amita’s hand writing so he picked it up, holding it at arms length as he read it out loud.

“ ‘Charlie, I’m writing this to you because I can’t go on any more without you knowing how I truly feel. And since this is the only way I can think of to get you to listen, I don’t see any alternatives.

Maybe you’ll understand me if I use one of the analogies you use to explain your math to Don and his team.

I feel just like the painting we bought at the flea market. Serving no real purpose other than collecting dust on the wall. Every day you sit there in your own Math world, and don’t even notice I’m there.

I’ve been trying to work things out systematically. Weighing the pro’s against the con’s. And I’ve come to the conclusion that… I can’t think of one single reason, why I should keep hanging around.

I hope that you miss me.’

x

Amita shifted the pillows on Megan’s couch as she tried to get comfortable. The Special Agent had been gracious enough to put the young professor up for the night. Megan knew what it was like to live with a genius who was constantly in his own world, and one some level Amita had always felt they understood each other.

In the darkness she could see her cell phone light up as she received an incoming call. With a sigh, she reached over and grabbed the phone. She didn’t need the caller ID to tell her that it was Charlie calling.

She didn’t speak as she connected the call, she simply held it close to her ear and listened to the sound of words tumbling from the curly haired mathematician’s mouth. Most of the words weren’t making sense to Amita, but when he said the words she wanted to hear she knew her walls were destroyed.

“I have been such a fool. I can’t live without you.”

The honesty and hurt she could hear in his voice brought tears to her eyes as she severed the connection, not trusting her voice to speak.

In the doorway she spotted a tired Megan looking at her with a sad smile on her face. “He may be a jackass but you still love him,” the Special Agent pointed out.

Amita nodded her head, sitting up and flicking on a nearby lamp. Her gaze drifted to her bag and she felt a wave of emotion hit her when she saw a corner of the painting sticking out of the backpack. She had no idea why she had taken it, but she had felt like she needed some thing to remind her of home.

“I think we can work through this. I’m going home.”