'Adam, come and see me in my office.'

A pause, while Jensen considered that hearing voices in one's head is typically a symptom of advanced and disturbing mental illness.

'Yes boss.'

‡

David Sarif's office was a dimly lit cacophony of gold and bronze hues, and the late afternoon sun cast it in hazy, elongated shapes. Sarif himself paced lazily back and forth beside the large window, periodically tossing a baseball from one hand to the other.

'Now Adam, I know you've been doing a lot of office work lately,' the senior man said, before turning to face his companion, 'and I know it's been getting to you.'

He advanced across the room, absentmindedly dropping the baseball as he leant against the front of his desk. He looked intently into the face of his security chief for several moments, but Jensen didn't so much as shift under the scrutiny, remaining stock still, arms crossed. Sarif frowned.

'You never took any time off after Panchaea, son, and I know that was—' he searched for the right word, 'that was stressful. For everyone involved. You know what an asset you are to this company, and—'

'I'm fine, boss. Thanks for the concern.' Jensen's voice was a flat monotone. 'What is it you called me for?'

Sarif pulled a face, crossing his arms. His brows drew together in consternation, but Jensen's terse mood made his expression even more unfathomable than usual.

'Well Adam, as I'm sure you're aware, things have been moving incredibly fast since the events on Panchaea. Sarif Industries is a top player, sure, but we're at risk of falling behind other companies who are willing to be more… flexible with their ethics.'

With this Sarif stood up straight, producing the baseball from the æther, and began to toss it from palm to palm again. It was body language that Jensen knew well, and it meant that his boss was uncomfortable with what he was saying. Jensen kept the derision from his face by sheer force of will: it hadn't just been Megan who had betrayed him, Sarif had let it happen. His displays of fatherly affection rang as hollow as his talk of ethics.

'Anyway, I want you to do some research at Page Industries tomorrow night, find out what they're up to. Apparently they've taken BIOs to a whole new level.'

'Corporate espionage, boss? You think what they're doing might be illegal?' Jensen queried, his curiosity piqued despite his severe mood. Pritchard's words still rang in his head: Sarif's mechanical lapdog. Well then, woof woof, he thought grimly.

'I'm almost sure of it. I want you to head over there, and find out what you can.' Sarif took to the seat behind his desk, 'Get out of the office, you know?'

'Anything in particular I should be looking for?'

'I couldn't tell you; I've no idea what to expect myself.' Sarif looked up at his head of security, genuine worry in his eyes. He was rolling the baseball back and forth on the desk with the heel of his hand, and looked like he might say something else, but thought better of it.

'Adam, I know things have been tough, with Megan and all.' He was watching Jensen's face carefully, to see if the mention of Dr Reed had any effect – it had been months now, but his behaviour had been near obsessive before Panchaea. There might have been a twitch of augmented fingers. 'But you need to move on, and stop brooding on the past. It's not doing you any good. Go out for a drink with Pritchard or something. You two have been getting on lately, right?'

That, at least, managed to elicit a smirk on Jensen's part. It was an unbalanced expression that filled Sarif with an unease he could not only feel in his gut but taste in the back of his throat. He had never known two people to have such a consistently fractious relationship; asked for his opinion, he'd have said something had to give, but as yet nothing had.

'Is that everything, boss?'

Sarif didn't reply straight away, but spent a moment studying Adam's face. Something was wrong, perhaps even very wrong. He looked… crooked, like an iceberg that had ruptured at its core, and was slowly and inexorably falling apart. What had happened between him and Pritchard? Even if his two best men didn't often see eye to eye, the simple fact was that they spent a lot of time together. They knew each other well, after a fashion, and it was all too easy to use that knowledge harmfully – and sometimes Pritchard didn't know when to stop.

'Yeah. Take the rest of the day off, son. I'll have someone pick you up from your apartment tomorrow night.'

Jensen turned to leave, stalking towards the door.

'Adam,' Sarif called to his back, voice stern, causing Jensen to pause in his tracks. 'Take care of yourself. We need you.'

Adam nodded once, brusquely, and without turning around. Sarif watched him leave with a feeling of disquiet gnawing at his edges, and a molten core of guilt in his stomach. He knew that in many ways he had misused his security chief, and he had been surprised when the transmission from Panchaea had favoured his own agenda. Jensen was loyal, he supposed. It was why he had struggled so much with Megan's betrayal, and why even now his jaw tensed at her name. He was a good man; he had suffered, and for that, Sarif was sorry. He was afraid that after tomorrow night, he would be sorrier still.

Author's Note: Yes. If you were wondering, I did feel like a terrible person after the end of the last chapter. I'm hoping to update every week or so, university notwithstanding, so please don't fret about short chapters; progress will happen, I promise.