Warning: Stupidity and stubbornness abound when it comes to things of the heart.
~*~
Chapter Eight:
Matters of the Heart
~*~
"Look at you, panting and sweaty. I'm not even winded. We should go again."
"You're all sweaty, though."
"Doing it in heat like this will make you sweat, no matter how fit you are."
"Yes yes, we all know you have more stamina, go away."
"You sure you don't want to go again?"
"No!"
Chelsea copped a damp cloth to the face for her trouble. Laughing faintly as she pulled it off, she smiled at Natalie, who was glaring at her with a face red and sweaty after their morning jog.
"Screw you." With that, the younger woman stomped off to the showers, the trek making her breathless all over again.
It had been three weeks since the 'acceptance' of the human doctors by the Outlanders and both a lot and nothing had happened. The doctors had fit themselves into a twenty hour day routine quite efficiently. Chelsea, Natalie, Graham and Callum worked the 'afternoon' shift – and the longest one, as Callum had (un)happily pointed out – from about one in the afternoon to eight or nine depending on the days activities. Four doctors had the graveyard shift from eight ish to about two am which dealt with emergency procedures, the non-essentials that couldn't be seen to during the day and accidents. No one was on until six am unless something dramatic happened, which it had not, and then the morning shift of the final four doctors hit the clock.
They had worked their way through the patients with relative efficiency using this system, and the time was a blurred kaleidoscope of horrific evidences of abuse that no human should ever inflict. Burns, breaks, scars, even missing limbs left untended and uncared for. Though MNU had made some effort in bringing doctors to District 10, which was slightly safer than District 9, the fact that they had left the Outlanders so long without proper treatment was a unanimous source of outrage for the doctors. Without asking or caring for approval, they carefully documented each and every instance of abuse and violence that had been inflicted on the Outlanders, Meghan quietly filing them away for later use.
Though shifts were consumed with surgeries and tending wounds and checking on already treated patients, much of the time between shifts was spent socializing with the Outlanders themselves. Though only some of the doctors might have been aware that their persistent and continued care for the Outlanders when their shifts were over served to ensure that there were no subtle borders erected between professional and casual interaction, it was very apparent to the Outlanders. Their genuine desire to assist was shown when they explained how to change a bandage, or would check in with patients and bring some food with them, or would personally take care of the same Outlander repeatedly. It was especially apparent when they would roll out of bed after getting barely an hour of sleep to assist in an emergency surgical procedure or with a complication.
However, by the end of the first month in District 10 most of the Outlanders had been seen to and the frenetic pace and initial shock had ebbed into a calmer, more manageable rate of care. The free hours were spent in various ways, reading or listening to music, sleeping or eating, studying or researching. Though the doctors got to know one another and formed friendships – and in the case of two of them a rather intimate relationship – their dealings with the Outlanders showed their individual personalities. Natalie proved to be much the observer and had a rather remarkable skill with sketching, often immortalizing daily scenes in grey lead pencil. Callum and Graham became good friends and often played imaginary 'I Am a Rich Bastard' poker. After a few games, they taught the Outlanders how to play, but made them swear only to bet with rocks and not actual supplies. There was a sort of bubble that the two had around one another, but every now and again the Outlanders entered it and were included in their activities. They were the main source of Outlander and human casual interactions outside of medical procedures.
The increasing comfort around one another meant that the humans and Outlanders were not only working together medically, but they were even mingling casually. It had been slow, and tentative, but it was happening. Several Outlanders appeared regularly within the camp, volunteering themselves as workers and assistants. Though initially they had been rather reluctant to work without pay, they had been stunned to learn that the humans were also working without pay. A few days previously, they had begun to eat meals with the humans. The Outlanders were fascinated with the human eating utensils and many of the doctors were fascinated by the maxillae of the Outlanders. To the point that Meghan had decreed that there would be no science over the dinner table.
One of the doctors would say grace over her meal, which had taken some explaining. The very next day, however, she had three Outlanders doing it with her. When she asked them why, they said they did not have to be religious to be thankful, and that she should not be thankful alone.
Chelsea was not the only one that had found the words quite humbling. Outlander innocence might have been used against them at one point, but truly the saying 'out of the mouth of babes' was never truer than it was in that camp, especially when it came to the driving force behind the trust of the Outlanders.
Alexander.
When Natalie and Chelsea jogged, Alexander would often join them, and pretend to be tired long before he should be so one of the two women would carry them on her back. The young Outlander was often delighted by Chelsea pretending to bench press him or Graham using him as a barbell. He proved highly agile and was quite comfortable being held by one leg as he wrestled with the doctors. He had fit in quickly with the camp life, and his acceptance of them and their acceptance of him had allowed the adults to integrate more easily.
It had been Alexander's guileless trust that had allowed the doctors to know what to do and what to not do in regards to the Outlanders, their society courtesies as well as their taboos. Doctors indulging him by picking him up and feeding him and playing with him had also coaxed other young Outlanders, many of whom were orphans. Unlike humans, child-rearing was always done by a single parent, mostly because only one parent was required for actual reproduction. If that parent died, the older, single members of society would care for the orphaned child but, according to Michael, there were many orphans and not many elders. Caring for one child at the prime age could be hard, but two or three as an elder was supremely difficult.
One of the female doctors and some med techs had set up a daycare sort of system where they would care for about ten or twenty orphaned young a day and give their older guardians a respite. Something that Chelsea honestly thought would be a simple act had turned out to be one that was one of the greatest in regards to the Outlanders trusting them. Although Chelsea was not directly involved in the daycare system, she and many others were relentlessly roped in to help by a doctor that turned out to be a terrifying woman when it came to duty.
In one instance Callum had been overwhelmed with them as they used him as a jungle gym, bringing him down with a muffled, "So… many… children!"
From Alexander himself, and from others, the doctors learned much about Outlander physiological and psychological development, more than MNU would have cared to learn. Not only was the average life span of Outlanders about three hundred years, it turned out that Outlanders physically matured much faster than they psychologically matured. Oh they could have the brainpower of a rocket scientist at the equivalent mental age of five, but emotionally they remained young for a very long time.
Alexander himself was only four years old, and would be physically mature within another two or three. However, despite being physically fully grown, he would retain the mental capacity equivalent to a human twelve year old and would still require care and guidance from a parental figure for another ten years. Usually at that age, they would be tutored in the ways of things by all the older members of society as they could then provide food and care for themselves, but such tutelage was markedly absent from the District 10 society. The reason for this, and the reason for the directionless nature of the Outlanders was explained over dinner one evening by their Outlander 'co-workers'. It was a revelation that was both shocking and horrifying.
The reason that the Outlanders of District 10 were so naïve was not because they were stupid as the world believed.
It was because they were all young.
Even Michael was the equivalent of about twenty five years of age.
Seventy percent of the Outlander population was equivalent to between the ages of thirteen and twenty, exceedingly disproportionate, according to Anna, to the normal ratio of age in their societies. There were smatterings of younger and much older, but they were few and far in between, and as such could not form a coherent society the way they normally would have. It meant that District 10 was like a massive concentration camp of technologically advanced but relatively innocent and inexperienced teenagers. Two million of them.
On a good day, for humans, that was beyond disastrous.
It explained much, to think of Outlanders as frightened teenagers, and it also heightened the depravity of what MNU had done to them. To children. Stupidity was replaced with naiveté. Violence was replaced with fear. Innocence surmounted everything. With one revelation, the doctor's whole perception of the Outlanders changed dramatically. They were not another race to be studied and learned. They were the children of another race to be protected.
Or, at least, that was what Chelsea thought.
It was, however, a scary thought indeed, because without their helplessness and naiveté, the Outlanders could have physically and technologically dominated mankind in less than a year with terrifying ease.
Their potential for harm was shown when twice Adam and several other Outlanders had attacked the camp with the intent to hurt or kill the doctors. The first time, two of the MNU guard had been killed, five Outlanders had also died and several of the doctors had been badly scuffed and frightened. Meghan had told them that anyone that didn't feel willing to continue on with the present level of danger could leave. Though one of them had debated the decision seriously, none of them had left. The MNU guard had been doubled and each and every Outlander had been treated with a large dose of suspicion for the next few days.
The second attack, Michael had been there and, for the first time in history, likely, MNU guards and an Outlander fought together. There were no casualties to either side, although Michael had been wounded by his own kind. Chelsea had had to all but strap him down for her to look at his injuries. Whereas with other Outlanders she would have simply let him run off and refuse treatment, she had held on to one of his antennae until he acquiesced.
She knew, in that moment, that Michael would never actually hurt her. Not ever. She had thought it before, but the knowledge, the knowing, had changed something.
But that change also meant that the calmness that had descended over District 10 was not reflected in Chelsea. The source of her disquiet was obvious to everyone. Michael. His constant one eighties of emotions. His yo yoing back and forth between being friendly to her and hating her. The more that Chelsea learned about him, the less she understood his actions. The less she understood him. At the same time as she found more and more to like about him, he seemed ever more persistent in finding something wrong with her, to a point where she wanted to beat her head against the nearest hard surface. He was confusing and frustrating and it was throwing her for a loop. She didn't know how to fix the current rift between them.
She didn't even know if she wanted to anymore.
"Chelsea."
Ripped from wherever she had gone, Chelsea spun around with wide eyes to see who had spoken to her. Graham stood right behind her, a bottle of water raised towards her, looking highly amused.
Chelsea arched a brow as she accepted it. "What?"
"You realize I called your name three times, standing right here, and you didn't even twitch? I was about to brain you with the bottle to see if that got your attention."
"Do it and die, little man."
"Short jokes. Aren't we past that?"
His feigned hurt made her laugh and she shook her head. Graham had initially gone cold towards Chelsea after the first night Michael spent in her tent. A small part of her had wondered if he thought she and Michael were having kinky alien time, but she didn't have the courage to ask. Thankfully Graham seemed to have worked it out on his own and was much more receptive of Michael.
Graham and Chelsea's relationship had also improved. They had started up a friendly rivalry when it came to their physical fitness. The reason for Chesea's physique became apparent when they had finally settled in; the woman worked out like an Amazon. Sit ups, push ups, jogging. When Graham had discovered the lengths she went to keep herself in top shape, he had immediately set about out-doing her. Though he was playful about it, Chelsea was sure his ego was slightly stung when he realized just how fit she was and how hard she worked to keep it that way.
She had jokingly said that women had to work twice as hard to look half as good once they had pushed out a little person. The revelation that Chelsea had, at some point, had a child, had been quite surprising for some.
She never mentioned it again, and nor did they, but they did wonder.
"So what were you thinking about?"
"Michael."
To his credit, Graham simply tilted his head as if asking her to elaborate.
Chelsea made a sound of dismissal and lifted a shoulder, "Nothing. Just wondering how I'm going to fix this latest thing that's wrong between us."
Graham pushed his lips out and arched his brows, "He does have a good knack of finding something wrong with something you've done, Chelsea."
"Oh thank you, Graham," she said shortly. "That makes me feel so much better."
"You really don't get it, do you?" he murmured, looking confused.
"Subject change!" said Chelsea suddenly, eyes widening. "Why did you pop my personal musing bubble, short stuff?"
The look that Graham passed her was disgruntled before he accepted the new conversational direction. "MNU wants a monthly update from all of the doctors detailing their activities." His disgruntled expression only further soured when he folded his arms over his chest. "To minute detail."
And here she was thinking it would be a pleasant change. "How minute?"
"As in the amount, time and global location of your last piss."
Chelsea pursed her lips to stop a wry smile crossing her face, uncapping the water, "It'll be amusing if someone offers a location other than the latrines."
"I was thinking of going for the mess tent."
Chelsea barked a laugh.
Another thing that Graham and Chelsea had established was that she was not shy about crude humour and language. Though she was one of those 'don't swear in polite company' people, she could do a sailor proud at times. Came from growing up in the country of Australia, she claimed.
She lowered a brow as a thought occurred to her, bottle halfway to her lips. "Why all of a sudden? I didn't know about any sort of update when I signed on."
Graham shrugged, "Beats me."
"Mysterious MNU," Chelsea wiggled the fingers of her free hand. "They're up to something."
"They're a world-wide corporate body. They're always up to something. If they're not up to something, they're out of business."
Chelsea hissed out a sound of dark amusement and took a drink from the bottle. Her eyes strayed to one side of the camp where an even section of dirt had been marked out as a rough soccer field. A group of Outlanders were kicking around a soccer ball and an exhausted group of humans were slumped to one side, obviously having been defeated in honourable combat. "Nn. But you think they'd know better than to screw around with the Outlanders."
"As long as we rely on MNU for resources, funding, food, they're going to have their noses in everything. So maybe it's not the Outlanders. Maybe it's us."
"Now you know why I prefer letters to emails." She tipped her bottle to him to mark her statement. "With letters, you know when they've been opened."
During the second week there had been a delivery that consisted of miscellaneous items for the doctors, mostly gifts from their friends and family. These included a soccer ball, an Aussie Rules football – that no one except Chelsea still knew how to kick properly – a punching bag, a racquetball post and several other sports items. What had ensued was a highly entertaining week of teaching the Outlanders to play sports, and then the humans being thoroughly beaten in them due to the superior physiology of the Outlanders.
That delivery also contained many letters from friends and family, although the internet had been connected a day or so prior. Nevertheless, letters were treasured and welcomed and many doctors, Chelsea among them, continued to get and send them despite the internet. She had great fun writing to her niece most of all, whose innocent mind was awash with wonder at her aunt going to help 'the aliens'. She had sent many drawn pictures of her aunt holding hands with rough sketches of Outlanders, and Chelsea had sent return pictures of Natalie's sketches and even some of Alexander's drawings using Natalie's supplies.
"You don't really think they're reading our emails, do you?"
Chelsea shrugged, "Maybe I'm being paranoid, but to suddenly ask for reports to me means they want to find out something and they haven't yet."
"That does sound paranoid."
"You're the military man. Aren't you supposed to be the paranoid one?"
"No. I'm just the brainless grunt that does what he's told. Conspiracy theories make my head hurt."
"Aaah. Now everything makes so much more sense." The two lapsed into quiet laughter, before Chelsea sobered.
"MNU is not a company that does not like to be in control," she said quietly, lowering the bottle. "They control the military. They control trade. They control the Outlanders. I know the hard way that they react badly to control being taken from them, even in the smallest way. Maybe I am being paranoid, but experience tells here. If we were doing what MNU wanted, they would leave us alone, the ants in the ant farm. But when we start making tunnels where they can't see, they're going to poke around until they can map it out again."
Graham stared at her in silence, before turning to look out over District 10, "Do you really think that?"
"People of power can be relatively predictable, Graham."
He clicked his tongue, before saying quietly, "But then that begs the question, doesn't it? What have we done to make them think their control is threatened?"
Chelsea inhaled quietly, "Who knows?" She took another drink. "Probably pissed in the wrong location. Would explain why the MNU guards seem to be giving us the stink eye."
It was true, though, what Graham had said. MNU controlled everything the doctors needed and they relied wholly on the company for the continuation of their endeavour. If they pissed them off too much, they could withdraw funding, or even withdraw the doctors. The political repercussions of that, of course, could be phenomenal. Or they could be nonexistent. It was a disconcerting thought, to be so dependent on them.
The worst thing was, of course, they knew that.
Meghan had been in talks with MNU about better facilities such as running water, electricity, some sort of plumbing system to reduce the waste build up and a permanent hospital, but the company was dragging its feet. Meghan herself spent most of her time holed up in her tent, talking to various people through some sort of private communication line. When asked, Meghan merely said that she was trying to get more funding to get the facilities she requested, and perhaps be independent of their reliance on MNU.
If you asked Chelsea, that was a cause worth fighting for.
As it was, Chelsea had become almost the unofficial replacement for Meghan. Though Meghan took care of many of the administrative duties, Chelsea was the go-to person for the hands-on work. Though she had been rather uncomfortable with the role, it had made sense. She was the most integrated with Outlander society, had the most to do with them on a casual basis. She had earned their trust first and more than any other doctor since.
Callum had cheekily stated it was also because, after Meghan, she was the oldest female in the camp, which had earned him a solid cuff for his troubles.
Anna, the Outlander physician who was quite comfortable with being referred to as 'she', was the most valuable asset to Chelsea's impromptu 'command' at the encampment. At first Anna had been tentative in venturing into the encampment and sharing the exact workings of Outlander physiology, but apparently Michael had talked her into going to the camp.
She had been welcomed by Graham with open arms – figuratively since he had been in the process of gnawing on a bread roll and carrying something – which had surprised her. What had surprised her even more was the way the doctors happily taught her about their medical equipment. All of which Anna was in the process of improving, amazingly since all she had to work with was cat food cans and tin snips. They had been very patient with her caution and eagerly learned from her in return all they could about Outlanders and how best to treat them. Thankfully, the similarities between physiology that allowed them to survive on Earth also allowed for there to be similarities in treatment, although several drugs had to be discarded when there were adverse effects to the Outlanders.
Back in the present, Graham laughed and shook his head, "It's this heat. Everyone's brain is going to hell."
"Heat? What heat? It's not that hot."
"Riight. Australia. I forgot."
"I've spent the last three years in the savannah, Graham. This is nice weather."
He shrugged nonchalantly, "Well I guess it must be hard for Callum to endure, then. His brain must be fried."
"At least it's not something vital."
Callum, of course, chose that exact moment to step within earshot. He stopped with one foot in the air, brows flattening into a scowl as he turned to look at them. "One of these days, could you please say somethin' nice about me?"
"We'll try," Chelsea turned and smiled at him. "But my mother raised me never to lie."
"Oh, aye, pick on the Scottish man. Graham. I'm going to go eat all of your food. Goodbye."
But instead of moving off, Graham stepped closer to Chelsea, grasping her elbow, "I'm probably going to regret this, later. Listen, about Michael."
Chelsea closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her free hand, "Graham I really don't want to hear it."
"It isn't what you think, Chelsea." He folded his arms over his chest, muscles in his arms bunching. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but this has to stop. It's okay for you and Michael to be friends, you know."
Chelsea's brows arched, "Well thank you for your approval…?" Her head cocked to the side.
"It's not about my approval, Chelsea. It's about you and him. I don't think it's a species barrier between the two of you. I think its you."
"Me," she repeated.
"Yeah. You're not seeing what's right in front of you."
"And what is that?"
"Michael only has a problem with you, and you're the only one that is suffering because of that."
Chelsea smacked her lips and nodded, brows arched, "Thanks for the talk, Graham. My eyes are open."
"Waaaait," he grabbed her elbow as she started to leave. "That's not what I meant. Shit. I'm sorry. It might not be weird for you but it's weird for me." He heaved a breath. "Listen, we're all getting along swimmingly without Michael."
"Swimmingly?"
"Chelsea."
She ducked her head, contrite, "Sorry."
Graham expelled an exasperated breath, "Bottom line, Chelsea, the only one he tries to pick apart in this whole camp is you. And the only one that has a problem with that is you. It's got nothing to do with why you're here, and it's got nothing to do with the rest of us. You stopped being a doctor to him a long time ago, but he's trying to remind himself that you're here for a cause. Here for a reason. And I think because you try to remind yourself of that, it makes it all the more easy. So stop being a doctor, Chelsea. Be a person."
"I don't even know what's wrong," she said softly. "How can I know how to fix it if I don't know what's wrong?"
"That's the doctor talking," Graham pointed at her. "But I'll give you a hint. If you ask me, all this picking he's been doing at you, this sabotaging, it's because he's desperately trying to find a reason not to like you. Because he does."
Chelsea scowled at him, lips parting, but Graham cut her off. "Friendship between humans and Outlanders might not just be weird for us, Chelsea."
And Chelsea was ashamed to realize that she hadn't thought of that.
"But I'm all pep-talked out, now," Graham slapped her shoulder and turned, walking off, "And if Callum ate my food whilst I was giving you a pep talk, I'm eating yours."
Chelsea watched him go, feeling decidedly off kilter. With a muted groan, she pressed her forearms to her head and tilted it back.
I'm such an idiot.
But even as she stood there, she realized that she had been thinking as Michael like Graham had described. As a cause. As a means to the success of their endeavour. And that wasn't true. They were indeed working fine without him, and maybe she was using it an excuse to… to what?
To try and make it seem less weird?
Turning away, Chelsea let her mind wander to the few nights before, to the most recent fight between herself and Michael. She had gone to her shift and returned exhausted and tired, meaning her temper was short. So when she entered her tent to find her notes scattered on her desk and Michael leaning over them, it had snapped like a breaking bone.
"What are these?!" he shook a fistful of papers at her in accusation.
"How the hell did you get those?"
"You think hiding them would have allowed you to continue?" Even angry he ensured to speak slowly so she could understand him. Or maybe he did it so he wouldn't have to repeat himself.
"I didn't hide them, Michael, but they damn sure weren't on my desk. You can't go through my things like that without my permission!" She tried to snatch them back, but he merely lifted them above her head, out of her reach. Like a child, she jumped once, then simply stared at him angrily.
"And why not when it helps me discover your motives?!"
"Because it is an invasion of privacy, Michael! Give me back my notes this instant. I am not doing any harm! I'm trying to help-"
"Privacy. You hide things from me, Chelsea. You cannot trust me with yourself, how can I trust you with me?!"
"I've already trusted you with me!"
"No you haven't! You've been studying me! Like some experiment!"With that, he tossed the papers at her and stormed out of the tent.
She raced after him, standing in the dark and shouting that he was being a child and that he should make up his damn mind about how he felt. Then she stormed back into her tent in a huff of rage and cleaned up her notes.
It wasn't until Alexander came to her that she calmed, and then felt stupid for yelling at Michael.
Granted much of the beginning notes had been about Michael, but after she had gotten to know him over the weeks she felt uncomfortable and had generalized the notes to Outlanders. Michael had never factored into her observations after that unless he was directly teaching her something.
But it had been three days since the event and no one had seen a thing of Michael.
Thinking about it now, with the information Graham had imparted on her, the perspective radically changed. Though Chelsea had seen the logic in what she had done, Michael had seen the betrayal. Every time he thought she was treating him equally, she became a doctor again. Distanced. Removed.
If he liked her, and he felt in any way disturbed by that like…
"Aaaaargh!" Chelsea whirled and stomped to her tent.
She swept aside the tent flap and turned, collapsing backwards onto her bed with an inarticulate cry that summed up everything she was feeling. Dropping the water bottle to one side – and panicking for a moment before she checked to see it was, indeed, capped – she pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes and tried to pres them out of the back of her skull. There, in the confines of her tent, where she didn't have to hide her emotions, she let her thoughts turn to Michael without inhibition.
She had to admit that the reasons she wanted to patch things up with Michael were not professional ones. If they were professional reasons, she could swallow her pride and apologize to him. But Chelsea was angry that Michael thought so low of her. Every chance he got, he turned her into a monster, and she was tired of it. So to have him sabotaging her efforts… sabotaging her at every turn was painful.
In the beginning, she thought she had understood, and maybe in the beginning she had understood, but it was clear that things hadn't changed just for her. They had changed for Michael too. She had never thought how hard being a friend with a human would be for him.
Did that make her naïve? Or selfish?
Or did the thought that it was hard for him make it patronising?
This is why it was easier to be a doctor!
She had thought they were becoming friends. She had thought they were progressing. But every step forward they took, they took five backwards, until she was left kicking at the gates and shouting through the lock.
What made matters worse was that those single steps forward showed her how much she really liked Michael. Showed her how amazing he really was.
Almost every night, after her shift, sometimes after a meal or taking one privately together, Chelsea and Michael would sit where they originally had and simply talk until one or the other grew too tired. Usually Chelsea. Often they would then relocate to her tent where they would continue talking until she fell asleep, either with Alexander or without him as he slept in another tent, likely with Natalie.
Sometimes Michael had still been there when she woke up, asleep or quietly reading one of the many books she had ordered for him. He was highly fascinated by human religion and belief, most especially Taoism.
Sometimes he would bid her farewell and let her go about the morning doing whatever as he returned to District 10. Sometimes he would stay and help around the camp. Graham had initially been leery of the much larger Outlander, but Michael had patiently won him over. Natalie adored him and her tent was littered with drawings of Chelsea, Michael and Alexander. Callum was just resentful that Michael had the best poker face around, although his left antennae did twitch every now and again.
It took Callum a long time for him to realize that Michael was deliberately doing that and the revelation had been highly entertaining.
Chelsea had enjoyed watching him interact with the humans. Enjoyed learning his mannerisms. Enjoyed just spending time with him. More than she had with anyone in a long time.
He explained that this was because his 'type' was physically larger and dominant. In past times, long past, he would have been among the lead warriors of their tribes that would walk across the plains of his homeland. He would fight against other tribes for territory and keep his own tribe in check. Graham had described Michael as an 'alpha male', and when she had explained this term to him (as a mono-gendered race he had a hard time grasping it) he asked her if she was an alpha female.
Despite Chelsea's laughing explained that Meghan was the alpha female, but Michael remained sceptical. He did, however, watch Meghan far more closely afterwards.
But more significant in Michael and Chelsea's growing friendship, was their ability to learn one another. Through Chelsea, Michael had a greater understanding of human traditions, and learned of a world far beyond Johannesburg, where violence and war was rife, but there was also goodness and kindness. To demonstrate this, Chelsea coaxed Michael into having a webcam conversation with her brother, his wife and his daughter, much to her niece's delight.
But Chelsea was more delighted by Michael's reaction to her brother's family. About how he and her brother had connected and conversed.
Chelsea learned that Michael was a far gentler soul than he first appeared. He had an appreciation for the finer things. Most especially Alexander. It seemed that the Outlander had unofficially and unconsciously adopted the youngling. Often the two were seen wandering together. Foraging through garbage much to the doctor's consternation, or Michael taking on the role of a parent to teach Alexander. Chelsea absolutely loved seeing them together, the much larger and darker Michael bent over Alexander as they spoke quietly. More than once she saw two humans in their place and those times brought painful but blissful tears to her eyes. A time or two Michael would join Chelsea and any others on a walk, scooping up Alexander as he did so, and they would lapse into happy conversation.
She was an adult and though she was damn good at hiding things from herself, this was all glaringly obvious. She enjoyed Michael's company. She missed him when he was gone. She was upset when he was angry at her. She did like him. A lot.
Amazing how she and Michael dealt with that though. She hid behind her professionalism, and he sabotaged her.
She wondered if he knew that.
Now that Graham had removed the safety net of professionalism, Chelsea was left dangling out over a void. He had told her to stop being a doctor and go be a person with Michael. But Michael was a part of a whole different world, and Chelsea didn't even know how to be a person in her own.
She didn't come to District 10 for emotional complications. She didn't come to Africa for emotional complications. She left her damn country to run away from her emotions. To run away from her heart. And here, in Africa, matters of the heart caught up to her.
Anyone that knew Chelsea Grant well knew that she was about as intelligent as a starving dog with a bear trap laced with meat when it came to emotions.
Lowering her hand, she felt along the chain at her throat and grasped the locket and the gold ring that were attached to it.
I could use a little help here, guys, if it's not too much trouble.
"Hi!"
"Son of a-"
Chelsea sat up, causing Alexander to fall back, blinking up at her. Her mouth opened and closed several times, before she whimpered and fell back.
"Hey, Alexander." She held out her arm. Nimbly, he latched onto her wrist, swung himself up and landed against her chest. She patted his back and hugged him for a moment, coaxing him to lie down.
"I'm lying on your chest."
She laughed, "It's okay for you to do that when we're hugging."
"Oh, okay."
Chelsea chuckled as she remembered the lessons in decorum they had to give to the Outlanders, all stemming from an innocent breast-squeeze that had a med tech squealing to high heaven. Apparently interacting with hookers was not a good way to learn the 'do not touch zones'.
Originally Alexander's words and statements had been short and lacking the wording of whole, coherent sentences. But as Alexander taught Chelsea about his language, he also was learning how to phrase things better. Michael often served as their teacher in both things.
Michael again! She couldn't escape him!
Alexander sat up on her chest, knees drawn up against his own, "We need to talk."
Chelsea scowled behind the arm she had thrown over her face, "Uh oh. Again."
"You and Michael fighting again."
Chelsea swore inwardly. He sounded like a child whose parents were arguing. Considering the situation, she couldn't blame him. But she didn't know how to fix it. She shifted until she was sitting up and set him on her lap.
"Are you mad at him?"
"A little."
"Why?"
Chelsea pursed her lips, wondering if she should tell Alexander, or shield him. She opted to shield him. "We had an argument, is all. We argue a lot."
"I know that." Like she had told him the sky was blue."But Michael never argues with humans. He does as he's told. He hates it, but he does it. But he argues with you. He cares what you think."
Chelsea pursed her lips, before admitting, "I know. Now I do. And I care what he thinks, too. And him thinking bad about me hurts me. And I don't know how to fix it."
"Well… does he know he hurts your feelings?"
She went still at the innocent question, before looking at Alexander with a furrowed brow, "What do you mean?"
With seriousness that was almost amusing, Alexander drew himself up like a university lecturer and placed his hands on Chelsea's forearms, "When Outlanders feel emotions, we let out smells that let other Outlanders know what we feel. We always do it. But humans smell the same almost all the time, so sometimes we don't know how you feel or what you're thinking, because you don't always let us know with face expressions."
Chelsea's lips parted as Alexander continued with the graveness of a parent telling their child that Santa didn't exist, "Maybe Michael doesn't know he hurt you. Because MNU protects you."
"MNU doesn't prot-"
"Yes it does. We all know that if any of the doctors are hurt, MNU will hurt us back. So that protects you. Even when you trust Michael not to hurt you, he thinks it's because of MNU. Maybe you should just tell him that's not it. Maybe you should tell him that he hurt your heart. Maybe you should tell him that you care what he thinks."
And the idodicy increases.
Once again Chelsea was presented with information that made everything so very different. Information that should have been glaringly obvious. Chelsea claimed that she was reaching out to Michael, when she really wasn't. She had been placed there, and the Outlanders' acceptance had been a thing of inevitability.
She was not sure about her relationship with Michael so she stayed in the safe place of professionalism, keeping him at arm's reach with her doctor's persona, which she could only assume was causing him no end of angst.
They were spiralling down a drain of miscommunication and light-stepping and someone was going to have to take a jump into the deep end. The problem, however, was that Chelsea had closed that door firmly behind her. Emotion, friendship, caring. She had locked them away and immersed herself in professionalism.
Why was it that the first person she had reached out to in almost five years, however, was someone that was not only not of her own species, but seemed very committed to finding reasons to hate her.
Desperate to divert herself, she refocused on Alexander. "Do… Outlanders really smell different for their emotions?"
"Yep."
"I guess that means you can't hide how you feel, right?"
"Why would we want to? Wouldn't we want the ones we care for to know if we were sad?"
Out of the mouth of babes…
"But… I don't know how Michael is feeling…"
"I do." Alexander moved to sit beside Chelsea, mimicking her pose. "When he's with you, he's happy, but he's also confused. When he's not with you, he's kind of sad, but even more confused. When he meets you, he gets excited, but he's confused. When you fight, he's upset, and angry, and confused. Lots of confused. I like it best when all three of us are together, though."
Chelsea had her eyes closed as she rasped, "Why?"
"Because he smells like my dad did."
Muffling a soft sound, Chelsea put her hand over her eyes. Christ. Could she feel like any more of an idiot. Graham was right. Alexander was right. Michael had picked up on her professionalism like a beacon in the darkness. It explained his one eighties in emotion. It explained his need to sabotage her, so he could stop liking her. It explained everything. If Outlanders were blatant in their emotions, Chelsea's emotional distance because of her constant shielding behind her professionalism would make it seem like he was the only one that really cared. Make it seem like she just thought of him as a cause.
Which was why he was angry when he found the notes. Because it thrust in his face the fact that she seemed to think of him only as an experiment. As something to be studied.
And, as Graham had said, a like between a human and an Outlander wouldn't just be weird for her. She, to whom he was simply an alien. Whereas to him, she was an alien that was of the same race as the source of all of his misery and greatest tragedies of the past thirty years.
"I am such an idiot."
"Oh, I don't think so. Idiots don't learn, but you're learning."
Chelsea laughed quietly and hugged Alexander, holding him close.
"Please don't tell Michael I told you."
"I won't." Chelsea leant back and stared down at Alexander. "But I need you to do one more thing for me."
"What?" Guileless innocence and a desire to help shone from his large eyes.
"Can you tell me where Michael lives?"
~*~
Later, Chelsea walked through the tents of District 10, examining the map in her hand. Alexander had marked where Michael had lived, and damn if it wasn't a good distance from the doctor's encampment.
Strange, as she stared at the map, all she could think of was how far Michael had run to save her from Adam.
Chelsea had a pack thrown over her back that was, amazingly, not full of medical supplies. Oh it did have some in there, but it had food, mostly, as well as several other items. And a radio in case someone needed to make sure she was alive. Most specifically Graham. Chelsea had left the camp with specific orders to Natalie and Alexander not to tell anyone where she was going until the shift started. Chelsea felt she was being highly irresponsible to shirk her duties as a doctor to pay a social visit to Michael, but she wanted… she needed him to know that he was important to her.
And that meant that she needed to do more than reach. She needed to bare herself to him and pray to God and all His angels that he wouldn't tear her apart. Something that became a little more real than symbolic when Alexander had said that Michael did not like people visiting his tent, which was why it was mostly on its own.
Chelsea might have been protected by MNU, but in the depths of District 10, where no one but Alexander knew exactly where she was, she could be killed and eaten in an instant, without a trace of her body ever being found.
Physical vulnerability abounded, but that was not what she wanted. Well, what she wanted to do didn't really matter right now. And she had no plan whatsoever. But she knew that she couldn't let this continue. It wasn't fair on Michael and she was damn well tired of it herself.
She was just terrified of what would happen to her. She only hoped that this would work, because if it didn't, it would probably destroy her all over again.
Alexander had told her a route that would take her through the less populated areas of District 10, where she could avoid being alone with Outlanders that didn't trust the humans. In rough translation, Michael lived in a 'rough' part of District 10, surrounded by Outlanders that would once have been gang members, or did illegal things in District 9 for benefits of food or money.
As Chelsea walked, she realized she was walking through the Outlander equivalent of a ghetto, alone and unarmed. A part of her wished she knew how to shoot a sidearm so she could have brought it, just for added security, but she wasn't sure how Michael would respond to that.
Oh god I'm an idiot. She stopped suddenly, staring at the map. She was walking alone in District 10. Previously she had a very large Outlander with her, or a young Outlander that served to be as great protection. Even her jogs had been through areas of District 10 that were easily accessible and open, where they couldn't really be ambushed by angry Outlanders, and they always changed the exact time and location.
But now Chelsea was in real danger.
She was being stupid and she knew it. She was doing all of this wholly because she liked Michael. Yes. She acknowledged those twinges and aches and disconcerting emotions she felt indicated that she liked him. She was old enough to admit it. And if she thought that was disturbing, God above only knew what Michael felt, because according to Alexander, he did like her, too.
"Nothin's ever simple is it?" she muttered as she started forward again.
Sometimes, matters of the heart meant you had to stop listening to your head.
She just hoped it didn't get her killed.
The irony of such a death was not lost on her at all.
~*~
Waaait! *Puts up a plexiglass shield and hides behind it.* Okay. Now you can throw vegetables.
Really, though, I'm terribly sorry that this has taken so long for me to get this chapter up. It's not super long, and it's not super great, and it's not super… well anything really. In fact, I feel like I'm a supreme disappointment by giving you this emotional drivel. Blaaah. I feel like I have to write something with blood and guts to just purify myself… I dunno. I'm just in a flat mood right now.
I've been playing Dragon Age: Origins on my 360 recently and as some of you might have seen I've been a wee bit consumed. I can assure you that it will happen again when Mass Effect 2 comes out. Bioware, I love thee. Not only that, but I have lost the internet at my apartment, and I'm not going to be able to get it back up until mid-Feb. I'm with my family for a month or so with the electronic torture known as dial-up on a five year old computer that's probably virused enough to retry that Y2K thing. So that's my bucket of excuses for all of you… Give me time. I'm sure I can think of more.
I have also been working on my own stuff. I have aspirations to be a published author, hopefully before I die, and though I have an abundance of ideas, my problem lies with commitment. So when I go on sprees, I just stick with it. I apologize if that has caused anyone waiting for the next chapter any sort of frustrations.
But! Enough of that. Here it is, the next chapter of A Cage of Butterflies, with Chelsea finally realizing that she's a moron. Yaay!
… She's not a Mary Sue. *Wraps her arms defensively around Chelsea and pets her.* Shh. Shh. There there. You're not a Mary Sue…
Is she?
*Wiggles the knife that is buried deep in her self-confidence.*
Anyway! My own insecurities about my character creations aside, and my quiet desperate hopes that she will appear less Mary Sue-ish in coming chapters, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. There was another bit at the end but I realized it would be better served in the next chapter. I think. Maybe...
I hope I covered everything that people might think of. Indeed, this chapter became vastly different to what it originally was. In fact, originally it was simply a montage of sorts of how things changed, but I realized that a sudden blossoming friendship between Chelsea and Michael would be wholly against their personalities. Mostly because Michael would definitely not be okay with being friends with a human, and Chelsea has spent the last few years running away from her emotions, so to suddenly make friends would be strange for her. Even with Natalie, Graham and Callum, she is quite distanced. She hasn't told anyone about herself really and she maintains a very professional relationship. Though she isn't ashamed of what happened to her, she isn't going to advertise it.
Some of you have had theories about what happened to her, and they have been some very interesting ones. Whether or not they're accurate, you're going to find out. Maaaybe in the next chapter. Maybe not. We'll see! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, but really it's probably just going to be full of angst and WAFF. And WIkus! Yay Wikus! He will be in the next chapter.
Aaand holy chocolate truffles, Batman, I almost forgot the review replies!
Herr Wozzeck: Wow. That's... Well. I can't say it's anything that dramatic at all, really. But you'll find out what happened to Chelsea's family soon. I hope you'll be satisfied with it. And yes, with great acts of evil come great acts of good. In desperate times there are greater feats of heroism. And sometimes real heroism and real sacrifice is overlooked. Humans can be terrible, but they can be wonderful to, and hopefully Chelsea can teach the Outlanders that. Also, Callum is the best comedic relief character. I adore him. Thank you for reading and I hope you liked this chapter!
Buddhabread: Thank you for your kind words! It's always nice to know I can deliver with my technique. Especially since it's my chosen profession! I'm glad that the side characters are so enjoyable and I do hope you'll be able to love Chelsea. She's a well-rounded character who has been through a lot of soul-searching to get to where she is, but she still has a bit of hard-headedness and innocence about her, but the world needs people like that. She was also shaped to be a character that the Outlanders could connect to. But she's not... too Mary Sue ish, is she? ... is she? Regardless, thank you for stickig with it and I hope the fiction is worth it for you! I don't want to ruin it with a Mary Sue ish character. ... She's not THAT bad, is she? It's more that she's been through a lot and where characters would progress to by the end of the story, she's already there, and is starting another chapter and oh my I realize I'm trying to justify her... Ugh... I'm sorry. I hope this chapter wasn't boring for you... And yes, I've seen a lot of Christopher and Wikus fics, but I could never get my head around them. To me, their story is said and done, and there is a whole lot more potential in District 10. I'm just saying that's to me. I haven't really been able to take a look at any other fics. And I'm sorry I took so long. *Shakes her bucket of excuses.* Lucky dip? The next one will be sooner!
Writer's Apprentice: I'm glad that Chelsea's personality read well. As I wrote, I realized not everyone was a jaded cynic like me and she would likely have some faith in humanity. I couldn't take it all away. As for Alexander, he's probably easier for Chelsea to accept because rather than an alien, she sees a child, and as much as she would hate to admit it, he's probably a replacement for her own lost child. So to her it's not at all difficult to protect and care for him. And the relationship between Chelsea, Michael and Alexander is something I totally could not resist. As for the Outlanders accepting them, I felt it might have been too abrupt, but I needed to get the ball rolling. So much yet to come! I hope you liked this chapter, even though it focused mostly on Chelsea.
Gira: Oh, Adam will be causing a lot more trouble yet. He definately wants Chelsea dead. I'm glad that the moment sold so well for you. I realized that Jeremy had been introduced and hadn't been really doing anything since, so I thought he could be spreading the word of the kindness of the humans. Huzzah! It worked! I hope you liked this chapter!
MissMeliss: Christmas, New Years, bushfires and freaky thunderstorms. Ahh, Australia. *Waves.* At least you're on the bloody Gold Coast. Surf, sand and sun you lucky - aaaanyway. I have to admit I'm one of those people that hates 'convenient interruptions'. They have me raging at the sky and wanting to flick forward in the book to find out what exactly is going on! Although I am guilty of using them, they are usually brief. And rare. Very, very rare. So no! No convenient interruption! Just Chelsea stalling in telling her own story. I'm glad that you're so hooked on it, though! Don't worry! It's coming soon! And yes, you may need tissues, but I'm not sure. Stock up just in case. And keep an eye on Adam. He's not going to be playing nice.
GeffyB: I'm glad you like it! It's good to know that I'm making a story you can thoroughly enjoy! It means I succeed at my task! I hope it keeps being entertaining for you, even if it is a bit slow...
Swift Hunter: Thank you very much! I hope you liked this chapter and I hope you like every one to come.
Tapanda08: All that matters is that you're sharing it now! Thank you for reviewing and I'm so glad that you like my story! I'm sorry I took so long to update!
Moonwolfa: I hope so to, but they're both proving to be relatively stubborn when it comes to the 'falling for' thing. They can't even admit they like one another, really! But keep your fingers crossed!
And thank you, everyone, for your kind wishes on my essays. I did very well in them and I like to think that you helped me get there. I felt your encouragement like the fuzzy glow after eating lots of Milo without the guilt of waiting for the carbs to hit my hips...
If you liked my fic, please please please review. It's wonderful and uplifting to know that I can succede in bringing a good story to your plates. It's what I stive for.
But, for now, I am going to sleep. On my mother's unbelievably comfortable couch. Until then, adieu. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Years.
Always
Anne.
