Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Nonetheless do you really want to be a thief and plagiarize this story?
Rated M. Younger readers cover your eyes now please.
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Author's Note:
This chapter is for all of the readers who left the kindest reviews imaginable. Without your encouragement this chapter would simply not exist. Thank you.
Spring Hale, MasenVixen and alice310, you are the best previewers. The time you've taken to look over this and give comments has been amazing.
Songster, where would I be without you? Certainly not embarking on this, that's for sure.
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Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.
from: Measure for Measure, Act I Scene IV
by William Shakespeare
FRIDAY continued…
I gape. It's the only thing I can do. My mouth is suddenly dry, throat tight and I can feel the blood draining out of my cheeks.
What have I done? I am so screwed.
He holds his hand out to me, waiting for me to take it. I look at it and then at his eyes. Their soft golden color contrasts with the piercing look that is being directed at me. I can't make my mind up as to what the look means, and am distracted by Riley fidgeting. He is getting edgy; I am taking longer than etiquette calls for to accept the hand being offered to me.
Slowly, I bring my right hand limply up to meet it. I feel strange; detached, as if I'm watching this from the opposite side of the room.
His fingers curl around mine jarring me back into my body by how cold they are. I gaze down at them and suddenly remember where they have been. In an instant the blood is back in my cheeks; the sudden change making me feel faint.
I glance back at his face and see a hint of the smirk I've come to know. Still holding my hand, he leans forward slightly.
"Miss Swan, I believe."
I still can't find my voice and simply nod, although through the midst of my confusion I manage to notice he doesn't call me by my professional title, Dr. Swan. It annoys me, but this is instantly forgotten as he continues...
"Have we met before? I could have sworn we have."
My brain is in a haze of mortification and embarrassment. Is he testing me to see how I will react? I have no idea how I should handle this situation. Do I pretend that nothing has happened between us when he is so clearly toying with me? How am I going to be able to hold my head up and be taken seriously when I have let him use me in the most wanton manner? How can I now secure my position, or validate my work, when I've undermined myself only three hours earlier?
I am hoping that the ground will do me a favor and open up to swallow me. It'll be best all around, and will get me out of having to deal with this disastrous situation.
The heat in my cheeks is now unbearable, and the walls of the room seem to be slowly moving. The room feels too small for all of us, and my limbs suddenly feel far heavier than they should.
"Are you feeling alright, Miss Swan?"
I raise my eyes to his again, and this time frown when what I see surprises me. He looks… well, he looks concerned. Riley, who is still at his side hopping from one foot to the other, now also looks at me and gets even more jumpy. If there's one thing English men can't cope with, it is women who 'make a scene'; as they describe anything that draws unwanted attention to them.
The scrutiny of these two men is doing nothing to pull me out of how I am feeling, in fact it's making things worse. In my peripheral vision I catch Laurent rolling his eyes, and in an instant I am grounded and the room has righted itself. I know what he is assuming, and if he thinks for one moment that the fainting-damsel-in-distress is an act I would stoop to use in order to help my cause, he has another thing coming.
I find my voice, which surprises me by being deceptively steady and clear. I could almost hug Laurent for how he has inadvertently helped me... well, if it wouldn't make me want to vomit that is.
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Shall we begin?" I turn back to the table and pick up the papers there before moving to stand next to Laurent.
I feel his eyes on me every step of the way. I try to ignore it. It's difficult. I am distracted by the memory of our earlier meeting; his smell, his closeness, the danger, the heat of my skin... I'm beginning to blush at the thought...
No. My brain reminds me that I must be determined. He is not going to use this unfortunate situation against me. I have to stay focused on why we are here. This is more important than anything else.
Riley is about to combust with agitation when the tall, handsome gentleman we are all here to see turns to him, pre-empting his spiel.
"I understand that you have another department that would like to reallocate the Foundation's funding. I'd be interested to hear how it would be used."
Holy crap. This is not good. He is cutting right to the chase and it sounds as though he is seriously considering this possibility. This is bad news for me. I need a chance to put my case forward.
"Well, Laurent is best equipped to explain his idea." Riley is spluttering again and sweat is starting to gather on his upper lip. He looks relieved that he is no longer the focus of attention. My heart sinks further. There is no way I'll be able to count on him to help me in any way. I'm on my own.
In marked contrast to Riley, Laurent steps forward, rolling confidently on the balls of his feet as he starts.
"As you are aware, my department has been concentrating its efforts on the interesting ceramic artifacts that have been coming through from the ongoing excavation in Sicily. We are identifying and cataloging them for our already extensive database, which I think you'll agree is of more use to the museum than the more ah, whimsical interests, of some of my younger colleagues…" He trails off, looking pointedly at me.
I know I am staring at Laurent, but really, I can't believe the audacity of the man.
"Are you suggesting, Laurent, that the work the Foundation specifically asked me to do is… what did you call it, oh yes, 'whimsical'?"
The words are out of my mouth before I can think through the consequences of what I'm saying. Now that I've started, I can't seem to stop.
"I'm sure that Mr. Cullen will be more than happy to explain to you the Foundation's reasons for hiring me, but irrespective of that I'd like to remind you of what we've achieved. For a start, my work has helped illustrate that Homo sapiens interacted more with Homo Neanderthalensis than previously believed. This has generated a great deal of interest and exposure for the Museum. There's the BBC documentary that will be broadcast this summer, as well as the international conference we are organizing for the end of the year. Helping the Foundation and Museum's profile with such work is a specific requirement of all our contracts. I am hitting my 'Impact' quota and then some – maybe you can give us an example of how your work has contributed to this? Why don't you remind us again of exactly how easy it is to access your archaic 'database'?"
I need to draw breath, so stop there. I look around the room. Laurent is looking shocked at my outburst. This time Riley seems to be the one wishing that the ground would now open up underneath him. I know just how he feels but given how little support he has shown me, I can't bring myself to care. And Mr. Cullen… He is looking at me, seemingly contemplating what I've just said, his eyes unwaveringly locked onto my face but his blank expression giving nothing away. I can feel my cheeks re-heating at the realization that he is scrutinizing me. I don't want to be the center of such attention. He is making me feel very self conscious. I take a deep breath, and try to calm the anger that Laurent has ignited.
I am annoyed at my lack of restraint. I have let Laurent get to me when I need to be cool and calm. I know the best thing I can do now is keep my mouth closed. There is no way I can take these words back although I wish I could have said it all in a less abrasive way. I know Laurent is clever enough to twist my outburst against me, but there's nothing I can do about it.
Laurent recovers quickly. He grins as he begins with a patronizing "Bella, I think…"
He doesn't get further than that before our patron speaks over him.
"An interesting observation, Miss Swan. Thank you for highlighting the differences in your approaches."
This is said so dispassionately that it is obvious I really haven't helped my cause at all. Why could I not hold my tongue? My insides are beginning to twist as I realize the very real effect this one meeting is about to have on my career.
"Would you care to tell me, Miss Swan, what it is you are seeking from the Foundation?"
This is it, the only chance I'll now have to put forward my proposal.
"My research to date indicates that the cave drawings in Southern France could well show the beginnings of early pictographic language. They appear in caves ranging from 45,000 to 10,000 years ago and I am particularly focusing on one set of patterns. In my view they could represent a word or concept; a theory that hasn't been previously explored. I would like to continue..."
He interrupts me. "And how does this link to your wider research into human evolution? I believe that is what you were hired to study." Sarcasm seems to be edging into his tone. It's making me nervous and my heart is starting to pound.
Shit. He's cut right to the heart of my work, and without any evidence, it's not one I particularly want to articulate. Of course, this is the moment Laurent chooses to belittle what I do.
"My young colleague seems to think that there could be some evidence that this pattern might have actually been the work of some subspecies which developed alongside homo sapiens and who thus contributed to The Great Leap Forward." He shakes his head, leans forward conspiratorially towards Cullen and continues, "She wants to prove that there was interaction between the two species; something that is highly unlikely given that there has never been any evidence of this whatsoever. Isn't that right Bella?" The sneer in his voice is quite spectacular even by my standards.
"Thank you, Laurent, for your concise summary of my work, although unlike you I would never speculate so wildly as to what might be the relationship between homo sapiens and any other subspecies without thorough scrutiny."
I am so tempted to go on to bitch about his research that I have to bite my lip. This is not a good time to appear petty. I already feel I've made a fool of myself by rising to Laurent's provocation.
Cullen simply looks at us. We all squirm. What is he deciding?
He looks to Laurent. "And your proposal?"
And with that Laurent is on a roll, "Well, as you know as an expert in ceramic typology I've been cataloging the different data that has been coming in from the various excavations we're involved with. If the Cullen Foundation would redirect funds to my department, we'd be able to hire a new in-house assistant who could start devising a computerized version of our current data system…"
Laurent takes a full ten minutes to cover his pitch. As he does so I continue to despair. He has managed to sabotage my own presentation, and while he's is as dull as his research; I begrudgingly have to admit that he is doing a good job of selling it.
My heart is sinking fast by the time Laurent is wrapping up. Cullen is nodding his approval of his presentation.
"Interesting." Riley and Laurent are looking at our benefactor in anticipation of his decision.
Cullen turns to Riley, "Thank you for organizing this presentation. It'll be a difficult choice to make, and I need some time to make my decision. In the meantime the Foundation is having a fundraising event tomorrow evening and I'd like both Miss Swan and Professor de Caen there in case I have further questions. I will give you my thoughts on Monday morning."
He starts towards the door about to leave. I can't believe what he is saying. My instincts are one step ahead of me and I step towards him, effectively blocking his way out of the room.
"I have my presentation to give, Mr. Cullen," I remind him. There is no way I can let him leave without him at least listening to my proposal. I've prepared for this, and I need to fight for what I love. I can't lose this job.
He no more than glances at me and then looks down at his watch. "I think I've heard quite enough, Miss Swan, to make my decision."
"How can you have when I haven't had a change to elaborate on my work?" I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice, although I take some comfort from the fact that it doesn't sound as wounded as I feel. How can he disregard my work so flippantly? No matter my serious lack of judgment, my work at the Museum has been flawless so far. I've been hitting all of the targets set out in my job spec, exceeding them in some cases, and I've certainly been extending my field of research. He must see that.
"I am already aware of your work, and it is clear that you have been busy. Now, if you'll excuse me."
And with that he sweeps out of the room and is gone.
I am in shock. There is no way this is going to go in my favor. Not only has Laurent made a full presentation, but he has also fucked me over.
I can feel my eyes starting to tear up but I'll be damned if I will let Riley and Laurent see me cry.
Laurent is beaming. This had gone very well for him. He turns to me and opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out I manage to hiss, "Don't you dare."
He has grace enough to shut his mouth and watch me gather my things as Riley begins rambling on about the importance to the Foundations' continued support.
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Tears are still threatening as I walk down the steps of the Reading Room. I pause at the bottom of them and squeeze my eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath.
This can't be happening.
I can't be about to lose everything I've worked so hard for again.
It's too much. I can feel the terror of this thought bubbling up within me. I have to stop it. I have to... and without warning the specter of James looms up in my mind's eye. I am immediately transported back to a year ago. I was so desperate. A hollow shell of myself, battered by his betrayal after I had given him everything of me; my expertise, my trust, my confidence, my love... I might have found strength in myself since then and taken control of my life, but it has been my work that has really saved me. It has been my life preserver. The thought of having to start over is terrifying. I just don't think I can do it again.
I shake my head to get these unbidden thoughts from my mind and take another deep breath. I will make it to the office before I allow myself to fall apart. How could I let this happen? No, this isn't the time to think about this, just five more minutes and then I can beat myself up all I want… I just need to get to my office.
Gathering myself, I take one last deep breath and head down I make my way around the Reading Room towards the north wing of the Museum where my office is.
"Bella?"
The call echoes around the inner courtyard. I look up and stop in my tracks. Besides the Native American totem poles next to the café ahead of me stands Mr. Cullen. He is on his cell phone and staring right at me.
"Bella?"
I am momentarily confused. It's Rosalie that is calling for me, but I don't see her, my eyes are fixed on him.
"Bella," Rosalie's by my side, "so, how did it go?"
I can't say anything. I'd cry if I did. In front of me his eyes don't leave mine.
She is now concerned, I can hear it in her voice, "Are you okay?"
I still can't say anything, and it is all I can do to slowly shake my head.
My insides are churning. I feel vaguely sick, but what I'm trying to hold at bay is the overwhelming feeling that through my own stupid actions I have lost the very thing that gives me satisfaction and joy. My job.
The trajectory of whole world feels as though it has been knocked off course, and is hurtling into uncharted and unsought for territory. I don't want this. What am I going to do? And the questions I've been trying to keep back are threatening to spill over. And still I can't stop staring at him; my mind racing, my body paralyzed.
"What's wrong?" I can tell she's really worried now, but still can't speak. "Bella, look at me." And she physically turns me to face her. The shock of the movement snaps me out of my trance, and as I look up at her I can feel my bottom lip beginning to quiver slightly. If I talk, I'll cry.
Rose's eyes scan my face, and her frown softens while her lips harden. "That bastard, I'm going to have his guts for garters." Her Britishism would normally amuse me, the bloody graphicness of her words in contrast to how polite the British make it sound, but right now her loyalty almost tips me over the edge.
I manage to whisper, "It's not Laurent."
Her brow furrows more, but before she can ask more someone else has approached and she turns her head to whoever it is. I can see that she is taken aback by the person standing next to her.
"Miss Hale, I presume? I think Miss Swan wasn't feeling too well in our meeting."
The rich, smooth voice I have come to recognize from my meeting and from the subway makes me stumble back slightly and I feel a cool hand on my arm, pulling me slightly towards him. There is something inappropriate about the gesture. It sends a shiver of fright down my spine. Inexplicably, at the same time his touch also sends a flash of energy through me, particularly to the last place I want to be reminded of. I have never reacted like this before to anyone, not even James, and I try to ignore the sensation as the energy settles between my legs and continues to pulse.
This is so very wrong, particularly now that I know exactly who he is, but still the pulses refuse to stop. I can feel the heat in me increasing. I am aware again of his scent surrounding me as he supports me and my heart starts to race. Every part of my skin feels sensitive, as though each pore is trying to absorb something of him. I want to move away from him but my body is refusing to. You can't want him like this. My mind is making a desperate plea to my body.
I try not to look at those strange colored, intense eyes. I can't read them at all - so condescending in our meeting and now seemingly edged with concern. It's too confusing; I can't process it all, my mind on overload.
Everything has suddenly become all too close again, and I feel increasingly trapped. Memories from the Tube journey this morning resurface again and are mixing uncomfortably with the terrible meeting we've just had. I try to pull my arm away from him, but his fingers tighten, almost painfully, before letting me go. Was that a warning? My indignation flares up. How dare he.
Rosalie is still looking at him, and starts frowning. She hasn't caught our exchange but her arm instinctively comes protectively around my waist. She looks at me with concern and then to him with a scowl of suspicion.
"And you are?"
"Mr. Cullen."
They are staring at each other with open hostility, but he seems to relent under Rosalie's intimidating scrutiny as he elaborates, "From the Foundation."
He looks at me and again I am frozen. "Miss Swan, when you have fully recovered, I wonder if you would send me all of your research to date. I'd like to look it over before Monday."
I open my mouth to speak, but it is Rosalie that answers. "I'm sure she'll be able to get it to you this afternoon. Now, if you'll excuse us." And with her arm around me firmly guiding the way, we walk away from him and to the office we both share.
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The cramped space has two small desks in it and four ancient metal filing cabinets. There is no room for anything else, not even a window.
As soon as the door closes behind us, the room is filled with the sound of harsh, dry rasps. They are coming from me. I can't seem to get enough air into my lungs.
My mind has begun unpicking my defenses, and I surrender to the fact that I have brought this on myself. Why did I lose my temper with Laurent? Why did I let him take control of the presentation like that?
Deep down I know why; I was thrown for a loop by the appearance of my subway stranger. Huh, not so much a stranger though is he? My snarky thoughts retort as they remember my morning encounter. My insides churn as the memory crashes over me, mixing with the mortification of my meeting and where that leaves me. Why did I foolishly allow a stranger to take such advantage of me? Why did I expose myself in such a way?
My rasps are getting harsher, but now tears are starting to flow. Rosalie's arms are around me, and she gives me a squeeze before leaning across to her desk for a handkerchief and handing it to me.
"It's okay, Bella," she says.
"No, it's not," I sob back.
"Look at me," I do as she says and it helps calm me, "it will be alright because whatever happens we will make it alright. Now, we need to get your files together for Mr. Cullen." At the name I start sobbing again.
Rosalie casts her stern eye over me and counters, "Enough of that for now, darling. We need to organize what we're going to do, and I need you focused. We will deal with how you are feeling this evening over several bottles of wine, but right now we need to get through this afternoon. Agreed?"
She is like a military commander giving her troops one last speech before facing the enemy. She leaves no room for questions about what she says. I nod in response feeling about five years old.
"Good. Now, where are your files?"
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A large glass of red wine is set down in front of me.
"Did he say anything else?" Angela has been listening to my account of my meeting this morning.
"No. After he met me and Rose, I sent him the files through the internal post and didn't see him again."
"I did," states Rosalie as she sits down.
"What?"
"Yeah, I didn't tell you earlier, but I saw him speaking to Riley, or rather Riley trying to suck up to him. He looked bored as hell, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost…" She's trying to get me to smile, but I can't bring myself to. "He had your file though, so at least we know it got to him."
"That's good," Angela agrees, "It sounds like Laurent really pulled a number on you, Bella."
Angela knows of my past run-ins with Laurent. Her advice has always been balanced and her observations always accurate; it's the lawyer in her.
I have a lot to thank Rosalie for and my friendship with Angela is at the top of that very long list. She introduced me to Angela a couple of weeks after I had started at the Museum and I instantly liked her. Despite their personalities being polar opposites, they are a perfect combination; Angela's quiet to Rosalie's brashness, Rosalie's instinctive responses to Angela's reflective ones.
Whatever their differences though, both are fiercely loyal. Initially, when I first got to know them, I couldn't bring myself to open up and ask their advice on anything, and yet they would always seem to know when to insist on taking me out for the evening to get me out of whatever funk I was in. I was taken aback by how supportive they were; practically strangers taking such interest and care in a foreign visitor. Since those first meetings we have met every Friday night to debrief on our working week and plan our weekends. Without them I would still be lost and very lonely in this city.
I snap out of my reminisces as Rosalie agrees, "That bastard needs a taste of his own medicine."
They are both being the good friends they are, but their words do little to make me feel better. Their advice is good, but I can't rely on it when I haven't told them the whole story. How can I tell them? I feel a fool for what I've done, how I've acted, and how I've reacted. It's my own fault, and there is nothing I can do about it now. I should have known better than to throw caution to the wind. I should have learned this by now.
I shut my eyes to ward off the hurt that is twisting in my stomach. I try not to think about it, but I can't stop myself. I really just want to go home but I know Rosalie won't let me until alcohol has numbed me a little more.
"…he's a fine specimen though, I wouldn't mind studying him a little closer."
I haven't been following what they've been saying, "Who?"
"Your Mr. Cullen," Rose replies.
"He is hardly mine," I say a little too forcefully. She looks surprised.
I'm being unfair to them by acting like this and yet not telling them the full story. How do I start? What do I say? Oh yes, he is, and by the way, he works magic with his fingers while on the underground. It's hardly something I can tell them about. I am so embarrassed by what I've allowed to happen. What would they think of me?
My stomach flips again remembering this morning. Why did I go along with it? Why did I get on that Tube this morning? Why did I let him touch me like that? Why did he pick me?
The questions start coming faster and faster. With that last thought however, my mood shifts completely. Yes, why did he pick me? What reason could he have?
I'm bemused. Did he want to embarrass me? He must have known it would have an effect me, that it would affect my presentation and performance?
But why? If he wanted to fire me, he was well within his rights simply to say that funds wouldn't be available for me research next year. No, he was wanting to humiliate me. My jaw tenses at the thought. Am I really that much of a pushover - so easily played and manipulated? Is that why James felt he could do the same?
It strikes me that I have always had a tendency to be passive. So am I going to simply run away from it again? Cullen might well have the power to take my job away from him, but why should I make it easy for him? He's not going to get his way without having to justify it to me. He didn't let me say my piece. Not only is that rude but it's unprofessional. I'll be damned if I will allow that. I've put my job before anything else; it means too much to me. He is not going to dismiss it, or me for that matter, with such disrespect. That is something I will not allow.
Suddenly, I am beyond furious.
I am dimly aware that Rosalie and Angela are back to bitching about Laurent as a stream of expletives runs through my mind.
I raise my glass interrupting them.
"You're right. Fuck him," as I lift my glass and drain it in one.
Angela and Rosalie join me.
What they don't realize is that I am not toasting Laurent.
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End notes:
Well done to lovebel and Mmelisse, both of whom correctly identified the references made in previous chapters. The characters that Bella is reading about in Chapter One, Luke and Claire, are borrowed from Stranger than Fiction by MasenVixen. A fantastic fanfiction story that I would highly recommend.
The reference to power panties in Chapter Two comes from tby789's classic The Office which, alas, is no longer online.
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'Impact' is a new proposed, and somewhat controversial, form of assessment of the work produced by academics and researchers in UK universities and institutes. If you'd like to know more about it an interesting article can be found on:
http:/entertainment (dot) timesonline (dot) co (dot) uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article6915986 (dot) ece
To know more about Bella's research into The Great Leap Forward a good place to start is wikipedia (dot) org/wiki/Great_Leap_Forward_(evolution)
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Dare I ask what you think? Continue?
