Team Angst: Everything
Title: The murderers of Amita.
Author: Keenir.
Beta: Mustangcandi.
and Babnol.
Pairing/Characters: David Sinclair, Amita Ramanujan, Larry Fleinhart, Terry Lake, Colby Granger, Charlie Eppes.
Rating/Category: Mature, Gen. (brief het references)
Spoilers: s1, Harvest, Janus List.
Summary: David Sinclair has everything - a lifetime of experiences, access to all sorts of places, friends galore - and that is his problem.
Notes: between each .*. is a different reality, a place where history went just slightly different.
Warnings: I killed Amita right before the story began.
The quote is from the book Perfect Rigor: [A Genius] + [The Mathematical Breakthrough of the Century] by Masha Gessen.
Historical references:
a) MOL was a parallel development alongside NASA - President Johnson intended for them to be spies in space, manning the cameras which required complex math to aim and work.
b) More than one ethnic group was declared to be eligible for the full benefits of citizenship by the US Congress - at the dawn of the 1900s, it was the Syrians. In the second half of the 20th century, it was the Asians.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘He still believed in telling the entire truth - but only when asked. He just didn’t see the utility of volunteering information, especially information about himself.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and as the sun began to set, David knocked on the door to let the family know that their daughter’s abduction had in fact been an elopement, and that both of the young couple were presently in custody.
After the second knock, and before there could be a third -
.*.
The Tel Aviv landscape was gone, replaced by the interior of an office David knew well - he was in the Math Department at SoCal University. There was only one explanation: he’d moved…again.
And directly in front of him, in the center of the room, was a dead body. Amita’s.
There was no murder weapon in sight. Of course. That’d be too much to ask for, I suppose.
But there was a wallet sitting untended on the edge of the desk. Gloves on, David opened it to check for ID and found it, front and literally center. The words RA ID CARD were prominent. Pulling it out, hoping the killer was stupid enough to leave his ID at the scene, David read the card to himself:
RESIDENT ALIEN
Occupancy: United States of America
Name: Amita Ramanujan
Nationality: India
Sex: Female
Grade C Alien.
Purpose: Education.
Sponsor: Charles Eppes.
David reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, the one part of him that didn’t cross from one reality to another. If his status or job was different here, his wallet would be the easiest way to tell.
His own ID card read:
Citizen of United States of America
Name: David Sinclair
Nationality: American
Sex: Male
Race: Black
“There but for the grace of God, huh?” Don asked him.
“How’s that?” David asked, putting his wallet away, and setting aside in his mind the question of what this reality’s Civil Rights movement must’ve been like - Later, he told himself.
“A few votes one way or the other, you and I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“That so?”
Don nodded. “My grandparents had RA cards, up until Congress decided in our favor.” Decided the Jews aren’t Asian, Don knew. “You need to take a breather?”
“I’m good.”
Don nodded. “So what do we have?” taking a look at the body. “Christ, no wonder Charlie pulled strings to get us investigating this, instead of the local cops.”
“Single stab wound to the abdomen,” David said. “Based on the amount of blood loss and how hard it seems to have come out, I’m guessing the blade was long enough to slice open the heart.”
“Upward thrust,” Don said. “You sure you didn’t used to be an M.E. before you came out west?”
“Pretty sure. You going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Did you know Charlie kept asking me to bend the rules so Amita here could consult for us?”
I didn’t know, because I just got here, David thought to himself. But he had a feeling Don was talking to himself - some things changed less than others, no matter what reality one was in. “I’ll go see if anybody saw anything.”
Looking down at where Amita lay, Don said, “Bet even if someone did, they aren’t going to say anything.”
“Have to ask,” David said.
Don nodded as David headed out the door.
Sometimes it took hours or even days to figure out why he was where he was. But not this time. Pretty good idea why I’m here, David thought, that image of Amita - dead - indelible in his memory now. All that remained uncertain was if he’d be here long enough to find her killer.
It had started years ago, with David finding himself in realities sometimes only slightly different and sometimes considerably different. It was hard for a man to have long-term plans when he might be uprooted in the middle of the night.
And there was no Al Calavicci to help him. David had to do this alone. Solitary duty for the past decade, and there was no finish line in sight at any time.
As David approached the crowd that had assembled on the SoCal lawns, he noticed and asked, “Liz?”
Liz Warner looked around her, then at David. Eyes wide for only a moment, her voice a little on edge, she asked him, “Sorry, do you know me?”
David realized his mistake. Resident Aliens here were probably like war protesters in the last few realities he’d lived: the Government had a file on everyone who might be of interest. “Sorry,” David said. “You just - well, you remind me of someone I used to know.” A familiar face wouldn’t always know you, David thought to himself the hardest lesson to learn.
“Hm,” Liz said. “Lucky them.”
David sighed as he pulled out his pad and pen. The similarities make you miss home, an the differences hit you every time, David knew all too well by this point. “Did you know Professor Ramanujan?” he asked Liz.
.*.
The desk calendar was marked with Amita’s crisp penmanship, ‘Charlie & Susan visit SoCal 4 lecture.’ Next week, David noted.
“It’s my fault,” Larry said when he came in to join David in staring at the marked-off area where Amita’s body had been (presently on its way to the morgue). “It’s my fault she’s dead. I should have…” and he trails of, shaking his head.
Most Larrys were alike enough to make David unsure if he was hearing a confession of guilt, or just Larry beating himself up over not doing enough, and this one was no different in that regard. Holding up one hand, David asked him, “Back up, okay? We should probably start from the beginning.”
Larry considered that, and nodded his agreement. “Well put. I suppose it stems from how much attention I was bestowing - I know, I know, she’s not my student anymore, I’m not even her thesis advisor. I thought I was being helpful.” All the wringing and pained movements found in the Larry where David was from, were here in full force.
“Someone got jealous?” David asked. Megan? But why would she… and yet again came up against the fact that this too was a new place insofar as he was concerned. Everyone always praised his attention to detail, to digging through the suspects’ histories - but David had his own reasons for doing all that paperwork. He wanted to see where the differences lay.
And a murderous Megan was certainly a difference in his book.
“I’m afraid so. Which means that it’s my fault. It’s my doing. I am the source, the original cause.” Larry looked at his shirt, then back at David. “The one time I can say something like that…” and didn’t sound pleased with himself.
Placing his hand on Larry’s shoulder, David told him, “Larry, it doesn’t matter what you did. If someone misinterpreted your actions, used you as their justification, then it’s not your fault.”
“Still -”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” Larry said. “But I can’t help but wonder, now, with the benefit of hindsight, if I did in fact, on some level, have more…ulterior motives for what I did with Amita.”
“Less than altruistic?” David asked, kidding, trying to lighten the man’s mood.
“Less than honorable, more base,” Larry said.
“You’re one of the most moral guys I’ve met.”
“Well thank you, but even Buddha was tempted.”
“He wasn’t Buddha then,” David said, and immediately suspected that didn’t help. “Any thoughts as to who might’ve done it?” watching Larry closely.
“A thought, but probably not the murderer,” Larry said.
David nodded. You think you know who killed Amita. And whether they really did or you just think they did, you’re not about to give them up - not even to the FBI.
That was when David’s mobile started ringing, so he held up one hand to excuse himself from the conversation - Larry nodded, trying to busy his mind with student homework that needed grading - and David said into his phone, “Sinclair.”
After a bit of talk about the case, “He tell you how his date went last night?” Terry asked.
David had seen realities where Larry and Megan were a couple, where Nikki and Larry dated, and one where Larry and Colby were an item - David had never heard how that had started. “Can’t say he did, no,” David said.
“Pity,” Terry said, though her tone said good “Anyway, I think we caught a break on this case, because -”
.*.
“That was the lab,” Colby said, hanging up and turning around to look at David, man to man, cubicle to cubicle. “Prints and blood do come up with a match.”
“Why do I not like your tone?” David asked.
“Because they match what’s on file for Charlie.”
“Charlie - Eppes?” just to be sure. We’ve probably arrested at least one guy named Charlie, after all.
But Colby nodded. “Question is,” Colby said, “why would he do something like that?”
I know. Even if this is a world where Amita and Charlie never dated, what would drive Charlie to kill? “Didn’t they say that when his mom was in the hospital, Charlie worked on P-vs-NP the whole time?”
Colby nodded, seeing where he was going with this. “Charlie worked on the problem day and night, back then and never stopped trying to solve it…and along comes Amita, who figures it out a lot faster? I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound like him.” Even with the Millenium Prize as part of the motivation, it’s not enough.
“I know,” David said. “But the alternative is that somebody’s setting Charlie to take the fall.”
“Question is, who?” Colby said. Seeing Don hang up the phone and come over, looking like he had lead shoes on, “What’d Walker want?” Colby asked.
“My brother just turned himself in,” Don said. “Said -”
.*.
“And I’m telling you again, we can’t disclose any of Dr. Eppes’ work to you,” said the MOL representative.
“Look,” Colby told him. “We already know Charlie was doing some of the extra math with our victim.” The math he couldn’t do in orbit, eyeballing the other nations.
“I can’t comment on that.”
“Then comment on what you can comment on,” David said.
The MOL man considered it, nodded, and told David, “Charles Eppes was in a secure government facility at the time of the murder.”
‘But you can’t produce the evidence thereof?” Colby asked.
“A I said before -”
“Classified. Yeah, we heard.”
David had a bad feeling Colby was still dealing with the Chinese. If you’re behind this, for whatever reason, double agent again, or spy again, you’re still going down, buddy, no matter *how* bad Colby seemed to feel about Amita’s dying.
.*.
David found himself on a hillside covered in climbing vines. Grapevines, he saw on closer inspection. Do I own this farm too? he wondered, having found himself retired and growing crops in one reality.
Bare, long, slender dusky-hued arms enveloped his chest from behind. “Hey,” Liz said, ambushing him.
“Hey,” David said, turning around, enjoying the feel of Liz against him.
“Having fun out here?”
“Oh lots. You?”
“Not as much as you, granted. It’s not as much fun windowshopping if I can’t drag you along,” she teased him.
“Next time, I’ll go with you,” David said, unsure if he’d even be here by that time, or if he’d have popped into another reality by then.
“I talked to her,” Liz said.
“Yeah?”
“Amita says thanks for the offer, but she wants to be on her own a little longer. She said if we’re still open a year from now, she’ll join us.”
Unsure of if the nation of Deseret had been founded - and survived - on the coast, or if California’s an agrarian state of cooperatives, or something else… David did what he wanted to do:
He pulled Liz into a hug. “We’re together. That’s enough.”
Liz grinned broadly, then raised one eyebrow at him. “Just remember I can’t do everything.”
“Oh damn,” and the falseness of his words substituted for a sarcastic tone.
“Speaking of which,” Liz said. “On my way back, I heard there was a murder intown today.”
Damn it! Where does it end?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
The known divergences for the chapters, in order:
1) the Asian Exlusion Act is not repealed.
4) the MOL program is not scrapped shortly before man lands on the Moon.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
Author: Keenir.
Beta: Mustangcandi.
and Babnol.
Pairing/Characters: David Sinclair, Amita Ramanujan, Larry Fleinhart, Terry Lake, Colby Granger, Charlie Eppes.
Rating/Category: Mature, Gen. (brief het references)
Spoilers: s1, Harvest, Janus List.
Summary: David Sinclair has everything - a lifetime of experiences, access to all sorts of places, friends galore - and that is his problem.
Notes: between each .*. is a different reality, a place where history went just slightly different.
Warnings: I killed Amita right before the story began.
The quote is from the book Perfect Rigor: [A Genius] + [The Mathematical Breakthrough of the Century] by Masha Gessen.
Historical references:
a) MOL was a parallel development alongside NASA - President Johnson intended for them to be spies in space, manning the cameras which required complex math to aim and work.
b) More than one ethnic group was declared to be eligible for the full benefits of citizenship by the US Congress - at the dawn of the 1900s, it was the Syrians. In the second half of the 20th century, it was the Asians.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘He still believed in telling the entire truth - but only when asked. He just didn’t see the utility of volunteering information, especially information about himself.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and as the sun began to set, David knocked on the door to let the family know that their daughter’s abduction had in fact been an elopement, and that both of the young couple were presently in custody.
After the second knock, and before there could be a third -
.*.
The Tel Aviv landscape was gone, replaced by the interior of an office David knew well - he was in the Math Department at SoCal University. There was only one explanation: he’d moved…again.
And directly in front of him, in the center of the room, was a dead body. Amita’s.
There was no murder weapon in sight. Of course. That’d be too much to ask for, I suppose.
But there was a wallet sitting untended on the edge of the desk. Gloves on, David opened it to check for ID and found it, front and literally center. The words RA ID CARD were prominent. Pulling it out, hoping the killer was stupid enough to leave his ID at the scene, David read the card to himself:
RESIDENT ALIEN
Occupancy: United States of America
Name: Amita Ramanujan
Nationality: India
Sex: Female
Grade C Alien.
Purpose: Education.
Sponsor: Charles Eppes.
David reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, the one part of him that didn’t cross from one reality to another. If his status or job was different here, his wallet would be the easiest way to tell.
His own ID card read:
Citizen of United States of America
Name: David Sinclair
Nationality: American
Sex: Male
Race: Black
“There but for the grace of God, huh?” Don asked him.
“How’s that?” David asked, putting his wallet away, and setting aside in his mind the question of what this reality’s Civil Rights movement must’ve been like - Later, he told himself.
“A few votes one way or the other, you and I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“That so?”
Don nodded. “My grandparents had RA cards, up until Congress decided in our favor.” Decided the Jews aren’t Asian, Don knew. “You need to take a breather?”
“I’m good.”
Don nodded. “So what do we have?” taking a look at the body. “Christ, no wonder Charlie pulled strings to get us investigating this, instead of the local cops.”
“Single stab wound to the abdomen,” David said. “Based on the amount of blood loss and how hard it seems to have come out, I’m guessing the blade was long enough to slice open the heart.”
“Upward thrust,” Don said. “You sure you didn’t used to be an M.E. before you came out west?”
“Pretty sure. You going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Did you know Charlie kept asking me to bend the rules so Amita here could consult for us?”
I didn’t know, because I just got here, David thought to himself. But he had a feeling Don was talking to himself - some things changed less than others, no matter what reality one was in. “I’ll go see if anybody saw anything.”
Looking down at where Amita lay, Don said, “Bet even if someone did, they aren’t going to say anything.”
“Have to ask,” David said.
Don nodded as David headed out the door.
Sometimes it took hours or even days to figure out why he was where he was. But not this time. Pretty good idea why I’m here, David thought, that image of Amita - dead - indelible in his memory now. All that remained uncertain was if he’d be here long enough to find her killer.
It had started years ago, with David finding himself in realities sometimes only slightly different and sometimes considerably different. It was hard for a man to have long-term plans when he might be uprooted in the middle of the night.
And there was no Al Calavicci to help him. David had to do this alone. Solitary duty for the past decade, and there was no finish line in sight at any time.
As David approached the crowd that had assembled on the SoCal lawns, he noticed and asked, “Liz?”
Liz Warner looked around her, then at David. Eyes wide for only a moment, her voice a little on edge, she asked him, “Sorry, do you know me?”
David realized his mistake. Resident Aliens here were probably like war protesters in the last few realities he’d lived: the Government had a file on everyone who might be of interest. “Sorry,” David said. “You just - well, you remind me of someone I used to know.” A familiar face wouldn’t always know you, David thought to himself the hardest lesson to learn.
“Hm,” Liz said. “Lucky them.”
David sighed as he pulled out his pad and pen. The similarities make you miss home, an the differences hit you every time, David knew all too well by this point. “Did you know Professor Ramanujan?” he asked Liz.
.*.
The desk calendar was marked with Amita’s crisp penmanship, ‘Charlie & Susan visit SoCal 4 lecture.’ Next week, David noted.
“It’s my fault,” Larry said when he came in to join David in staring at the marked-off area where Amita’s body had been (presently on its way to the morgue). “It’s my fault she’s dead. I should have…” and he trails of, shaking his head.
Most Larrys were alike enough to make David unsure if he was hearing a confession of guilt, or just Larry beating himself up over not doing enough, and this one was no different in that regard. Holding up one hand, David asked him, “Back up, okay? We should probably start from the beginning.”
Larry considered that, and nodded his agreement. “Well put. I suppose it stems from how much attention I was bestowing - I know, I know, she’s not my student anymore, I’m not even her thesis advisor. I thought I was being helpful.” All the wringing and pained movements found in the Larry where David was from, were here in full force.
“Someone got jealous?” David asked. Megan? But why would she… and yet again came up against the fact that this too was a new place insofar as he was concerned. Everyone always praised his attention to detail, to digging through the suspects’ histories - but David had his own reasons for doing all that paperwork. He wanted to see where the differences lay.
And a murderous Megan was certainly a difference in his book.
“I’m afraid so. Which means that it’s my fault. It’s my doing. I am the source, the original cause.” Larry looked at his shirt, then back at David. “The one time I can say something like that…” and didn’t sound pleased with himself.
Placing his hand on Larry’s shoulder, David told him, “Larry, it doesn’t matter what you did. If someone misinterpreted your actions, used you as their justification, then it’s not your fault.”
“Still -”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” Larry said. “But I can’t help but wonder, now, with the benefit of hindsight, if I did in fact, on some level, have more…ulterior motives for what I did with Amita.”
“Less than altruistic?” David asked, kidding, trying to lighten the man’s mood.
“Less than honorable, more base,” Larry said.
“You’re one of the most moral guys I’ve met.”
“Well thank you, but even Buddha was tempted.”
“He wasn’t Buddha then,” David said, and immediately suspected that didn’t help. “Any thoughts as to who might’ve done it?” watching Larry closely.
“A thought, but probably not the murderer,” Larry said.
David nodded. You think you know who killed Amita. And whether they really did or you just think they did, you’re not about to give them up - not even to the FBI.
That was when David’s mobile started ringing, so he held up one hand to excuse himself from the conversation - Larry nodded, trying to busy his mind with student homework that needed grading - and David said into his phone, “Sinclair.”
After a bit of talk about the case, “He tell you how his date went last night?” Terry asked.
David had seen realities where Larry and Megan were a couple, where Nikki and Larry dated, and one where Larry and Colby were an item - David had never heard how that had started. “Can’t say he did, no,” David said.
“Pity,” Terry said, though her tone said good “Anyway, I think we caught a break on this case, because -”
.*.
“That was the lab,” Colby said, hanging up and turning around to look at David, man to man, cubicle to cubicle. “Prints and blood do come up with a match.”
“Why do I not like your tone?” David asked.
“Because they match what’s on file for Charlie.”
“Charlie - Eppes?” just to be sure. We’ve probably arrested at least one guy named Charlie, after all.
But Colby nodded. “Question is,” Colby said, “why would he do something like that?”
I know. Even if this is a world where Amita and Charlie never dated, what would drive Charlie to kill? “Didn’t they say that when his mom was in the hospital, Charlie worked on P-vs-NP the whole time?”
Colby nodded, seeing where he was going with this. “Charlie worked on the problem day and night, back then and never stopped trying to solve it…and along comes Amita, who figures it out a lot faster? I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound like him.” Even with the Millenium Prize as part of the motivation, it’s not enough.
“I know,” David said. “But the alternative is that somebody’s setting Charlie to take the fall.”
“Question is, who?” Colby said. Seeing Don hang up the phone and come over, looking like he had lead shoes on, “What’d Walker want?” Colby asked.
“My brother just turned himself in,” Don said. “Said -”
.*.
“And I’m telling you again, we can’t disclose any of Dr. Eppes’ work to you,” said the MOL representative.
“Look,” Colby told him. “We already know Charlie was doing some of the extra math with our victim.” The math he couldn’t do in orbit, eyeballing the other nations.
“I can’t comment on that.”
“Then comment on what you can comment on,” David said.
The MOL man considered it, nodded, and told David, “Charles Eppes was in a secure government facility at the time of the murder.”
‘But you can’t produce the evidence thereof?” Colby asked.
“A I said before -”
“Classified. Yeah, we heard.”
David had a bad feeling Colby was still dealing with the Chinese. If you’re behind this, for whatever reason, double agent again, or spy again, you’re still going down, buddy, no matter *how* bad Colby seemed to feel about Amita’s dying.
.*.
David found himself on a hillside covered in climbing vines. Grapevines, he saw on closer inspection. Do I own this farm too? he wondered, having found himself retired and growing crops in one reality.
Bare, long, slender dusky-hued arms enveloped his chest from behind. “Hey,” Liz said, ambushing him.
“Hey,” David said, turning around, enjoying the feel of Liz against him.
“Having fun out here?”
“Oh lots. You?”
“Not as much as you, granted. It’s not as much fun windowshopping if I can’t drag you along,” she teased him.
“Next time, I’ll go with you,” David said, unsure if he’d even be here by that time, or if he’d have popped into another reality by then.
“I talked to her,” Liz said.
“Yeah?”
“Amita says thanks for the offer, but she wants to be on her own a little longer. She said if we’re still open a year from now, she’ll join us.”
Unsure of if the nation of Deseret had been founded - and survived - on the coast, or if California’s an agrarian state of cooperatives, or something else… David did what he wanted to do:
He pulled Liz into a hug. “We’re together. That’s enough.”
Liz grinned broadly, then raised one eyebrow at him. “Just remember I can’t do everything.”
“Oh damn,” and the falseness of his words substituted for a sarcastic tone.
“Speaking of which,” Liz said. “On my way back, I heard there was a murder intown today.”
Damn it! Where does it end?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
The known divergences for the chapters, in order:
1) the Asian Exlusion Act is not repealed.
4) the MOL program is not scrapped shortly before man lands on the Moon.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!