A/N: I really apologize about how long this took, I promise the next one will be faster. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for the reviews!


CH 11

Two weeks passed in relative seclusion for Christine. It was more of a return to normalcy, but it felt like a departure.

Christine caught herself gazing out the lab windows occasionally, reliving moments with Erik. She relived the sexy ones. She'd blush and look down, a secret smile, then cast it away and begin filling vials. The memory of yearning was fascinating. Everything around her disappeared and she was back in his apartment. That was what her stomach trilled with. His hands on her face, his fingers widespread, his nails in her back, his hands…

And then there were moments on a run or a bike ride—she'd begun riding again—where words would flash unbidden and she'd jerk, and on the bike if she wobbled brief terror flashed down her arm bones. I'll keep you here.

It was haunting. When she remembered serious things he said she jerked her thoughts away and squeezed her eyelids tight shut and winced. Within her, a wave rose, curling, growing darker as it swelled above. Before she squelched it and light returned, she knew fear and uncertainty.

Soon after the Date Erik was called to present his research in New Orleans. She saw him outside Middleton Hall on Tuesday; he smiled, mouth closed, and caressed her cheek before he left. He still wasn't back.

She felt no loss with his removal; her experience with him was but a bright spot in an otherwise bleak summer. At times her memories with him gave her an inner glow of warmth, but it wasn't as much sourced from his actions as it was from a cherished reminder: Other people are good, are loving; both she and the universe were still worthy of human affection, and the whole world required this affection just as much as she did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Kelly leaned against the counter opposite Christine and Megan. Christine shifted uncomfortably and tugged on her rubber gloves as Megan spoke.

"Have you seen Christine's images with the scanning electron microscope? They're hella good, Kelly. Like, it took me forever to figure out how to use that thing. Smarty-pants," she squeezed Christine's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Who trained you on it?"

"Wow," Dr. Kelly hunched, peered at the computer screen where a perfectly focused picture of Christine's nanoparticles displayed. She could feel the blush starting at his obvious surprise. "That's pretty good, Miss Daae," he leaned over and scrolled through the photos. "And you're really getting a lot of silver coverage too, that's great. We might just run out of stuff for you to do, girl."

What? Because I have so much already?

Christine leaned away from Dr. Kelly's arm and coughed, discretely alarmed. "Um, well…" she glanced at Megan. "Yeah. I guess we'll see, I still have a lot more to do…"

"Mm. Well." Kelly straightened and stepped back. "I've got a meeting with Dr. Monroe in fifteen minutes so I gotta run. Keep up the good work, guys." He left.

Christine pressed the back of her hand to her hot cheek and was scrolling through the images, trying to estimate how thick the silver shell on her particles had become, when suddenly she started. "Shit!"

At the opposite counter, Megan looked up. "What?"

"Ahh… I've been meaning to ask Kelly when he thinks it's worth me running the DLS on these… I mean, I don't want to do it multiple times, 'cause I've gotta run Erik's samples too, but I need to find how thick the silver is. Shoot."

Megan paused, opened and closed her mouth. Then, "Go run and catch him. I bet you Kelly's still in the hallway."

Christine pursed her lips. I just got done with him. She inhaled and strode out the door, looking down the hall for Dr. Kelly's leaned-back posture. She saw him nearing the door and ran-walked toward him, cheeks growing hot. "Kelly! I just have a quick question, are you-"

"Yeah?" he turned around. "What's up, Christine?"

"I just wanted to know—when do you think I should run DLS on my samples again? Like how thick should the shell look in the microscope? 'Cause I've got all those samples to do for Erik, so I just didn't want to—um. I guess—do it if I didn't need to…"

"Oh!" Dr. Kelly looked startled and looked over his shoulder at the door. Christine shifted awkwardly. "Hm," he squinted at the ground. "Try the DLS when it looks like the shell is 300 nanometers thick in the microscope. That should do it, hopefully." He started to walk toward the door again. Christine's mouth opened to thank him when he turned around, walking backward, "But good lord, you're a hard worker, girl. Erik's got you running samples for him? And I know he's got a ton of them, too. Well. Good luck with that," he added cheerfully, pushing open the door.

"Oh—but, didn't you want-"

And the door closed behind him. Christine felt her face paling as she twisted her hands in the hallway. Wait… What?

Did Dr. Kelly not want me to run the DLS? Did Erik misunderstand or something?

She went back into the lab. Her stomach was deflated and sinking. She looked around for Megan; desperate for some sort of confirmation that she wasn't a complete idiot, hadn't easily agreed to do something only fools thought was their responsibility—

…Is it really that big of a deal?

Was this some prank—'get the intern to do the crap'—that I naively fell for? And I thought he was helping me…

God, they must think I'm a pompous idiot, here I was… I was flattered that Kelly wanted me to do this too, beyond my usual patronizing toddler routine. When really, I just got manipulated into doing someone's dirty work… And he got a near fuck out of it, too.

Okay, wow, stop. You don't know.

"Hey Megan?" Christine leaned across the counter, face blank. Megan looked up. "Do you happen to know how—lo-onng Dr. Kelly wanted me to help Erik with running DLS samples?"

Megan flicked the bottom of a test tube; eyebrows furrowed, and didn't look back over. "Um… Noo, I never heard about that, actually…" she put the vial on a shaker and raised her voice over the loud vibrating noise. "I mean—maybe ask him? Or Erik. …Ask Erik." She watched the test tube determinedly.

Christine lowered her eyes to the counter. A weird swelling was happening in her. And I bragged to my dad about it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day was a Friday and the lab was fairly empty. Christine had an entire counter to herself and put in her headphones and mixed solutions in silence, foot tapping occasionally. Every now and then, Megan and Raoul popped in, and there was a general buzz between them and bickering which Christine was aware of but didn't consider. Aaron bustled about, too, gathering things in a Styrofoam cooler and mumbling, and Christine spared him a few glances.

Finally he dropped something and there was the tinkling of glass and he exclaimed, "Shit!"

Megan and Raoul came running in. "Which was it, which was it?" Raoul demanded, crouching on the ground and sniffing above the spill. "Which was it?"

Christine warily turned around and watched, one headphone out.

"It's okay, it's okay," Aaron said hurriedly. "It was just one of the extra tubes of—God. It was just a tube of fucking water, y'all. Oh wow."

Raoul rocked back on his heels and buried his face in his hands. Megan and Aaron began to laugh and Raoul chuckled drily. Christine ventured over and grabbed the broom.

"What is going on, guys?" she started to sweep up the glass.

Megan sighed as Raoul stood slowly. "This one got called to New Orleans to present with Erik," she jabbed a thumb at Raoul, "and he's gotta do it at nine tomorrow morning and of course you don't have a presentation," she glared at Raoul, "I told you, I told you, God!"

"Please, Meg, just shut up. Please." Raoul rubbed his eyes.

Aaron raised his eyebrows at Christine. "We're all heading out tonight so this guy can sleep in tomorrow. The university's paying for a hotel room for us, you wanna come? We'll have all day to explore the city if you want."

"Are you serious?" Christine stopped sweeping excitedly. "Oh my G—I've always wanted to see New Orleans! Wow, yes, can I really? I'll give some money for food and gas, I'd really—Thank you so much for inviting me!"

Megan grinned. "Girl, the school's paying for my gas. If you wanna buy us all some beignets, though, I won't stop you."

"Okay," Raoul started petulantly. "Okay, Christine, I'm glad you're coming, but can we please keep moving this stuff? Now? Please?"

Megan blew a raspberry at him and rolled her eyes as Aaron picked up the cooler and trudged out with Raoul. "I'll pick you up at four," she winked. "Bring cash for the House of Blues. We'll have fun."

Down the hall, Aaron shouted, "Fuck yes! House of Blues, bitch!" Raoul seemed to grumble something rude in reply.

"Hey, I can finish this trial in like an hour and help you guys," Christine offered. "What all do you need to move?"

As it turned out, the things Raoul had to bring were few. They just all required extensive packing—one little vial took up half a cooler to keep it frozen during the trip.

Christine spent the rest of the day in joyous camaraderie with Megan, Raoul, and Aaron; packing samples in ice until her fingers were numb. She finally had a sense of belonging. She completely forgot her earlier nagging uncertainty with Erik and the DLS and laughed at something Raoul said and thought, How did things get so good so suddenly? This is all I hoped for all along!

At half-past four—Well, I am still in Louisiana—Megan rolled up in her small silver Jetta and Christine carefully arranged her overnight bag in the trunk with the coolers. She plopped in the back with Aaron and set her purse on her lap.

"Hey. Sorry we're late," Megan greeted over her shoulder as she sped off.

"It's okay. I kind of just add thirty minutes to everything here now."

Aaron laughed. An awkward silence began to settle. Christine leaned forward and disrupted it. "So, what is all that crap in the back for, anyway? Like how are you gonna display everything tomorrow if it all has to be packed in ice?"

"Oh," Raoul looked up from his laptop. "Actually, it'll be fine. I normally keep my samples in the oven so they're at body temperature—since they're bone tissue and stuff—I just put them all in ice to regulate the temperature, so they won't fall apart or anything. When we get there I'll just put them on a hot plate and it'll all be good."

"Ohh." Christine leaned back. "So… What exactly are you presenting? Or—crap, I'm sorry, you're probably trying to write your presentation right now."

"Yeah." Curt. "But—Don't worry about it. Mega-poo, you tell her."

"Don't call me that, Ralphy. Basically, Christine, Raoul was able to take bone cartilage cells from a mouse and grow and multiply them on a collagen scaffold—it's like a porous thing for the cells to live on. Then Erik took the scaffold with all the new bone tissue and implanted it in a defected mouse skull, and the mouse's skull accepted the implant, pretty much, and new bone grew in the defected spots."

"It's not the first time this has happened," Raoul interjected modestly.

"It's one of the first," Megan insisted. "Christine, it's a different method every time people do this, and they're not sure which the best one is, so each success is a pretty big deal. I mean, think about it. If a soldier's knee got blown up, or something, someday maybe they could just grow him a new one from bone tissue in the other knee. It, like, almost eliminates the danger of organ transplant rejection. It's incredible."

"Wow," Christine murmured, staring at the road ahead. "Wow! God!" she sat up straighter. "Congratulations, Raoul, that's really amazing. That's like magic. Jeez."

A thoughtful silence settled.

"…When you say the mouse's skull was defective… What do you mean? Megan?"

Megan cleared her throat. "Well…"

Raoul spoke quickly. "It sounds bad, but they deliberately malnourish the mother when she's pregnant. So the baby mice have really low bone density. Sometimes their skulls don't form completely—it's really rare—we normally just implant the scaffold into an area where the bone is thin and see if it causes an increase in density. This one was a big deal because we actually had one of those mice with a patchy skull, and were able to get bone tissue to fill in one of the gaps."

"Ohh," Christine breathed. She rested her head on the seatback. So that's what it is.

The swelling feeling returned. It was like a weight of sadness on her face. She didn't want to open her eyes. No, no, this isn't mine… This isn't my problem. This doesn't affect my happiness. No, no, no.

I just can't imagine trying so hard to change myself. Ohh, and I keep trying to imagine it, and it hurts so bad to even guess…

Christine swallowed and stared out the window for a time. Megan turned on the radio to a low volume and Aaron fell asleep against the window. Raoul's keyboard pattered away in the front seat. Christine leaned her cheek against the window and stared out at the black water of Atchafalaya Swamp as miles and miles of bridge went by, the water never ending, the trees outstretched and level with the freeway. White Egrets spotted the cypresses in the distance. She closed her eyes and they burnt, though little light reflected off the water.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Young Antoinette Giry drove at twenty miles over the speed limit the entire way to the rural hospital, the little boy belted awkwardly in her back seat. She saw no other cars. Her heart thrummed in her throat and she glanced at him frequently in the rearview mirror. She was breathing very quickly; she realized it and took deep breaths at intervals.

At the emergency entrance, Antoinette cradled the boy to her chest and staggered in with him and orderlies ran up with a stretcher and their faces were urgent and concerned and she snarled. "I've got him."

But they insisted and they wouldn't let her come with and they took him and she watched his little fragile body wheeling away. One nurse glanced at his face and paused briefly; then her expression went clean and she turned to Antoinette. "He'll be okay," she gripped Antoinette's shoulder. "He'll be fine."

Antoinette wandered, lost, in the waiting room. She did not sit down. She stared ahead. Her concern was compounding itself with time and she now knew nothing beyond a circling question of "What if he's not—What will I do if he's not—If he's not—Oh my God, if he's not-"

A tall, slim female doctor emerged after an unknown period of time and walked purposefully toward Antoinette. "Are you the woman who brought in that unconscious little boy?"

Antoinette nodded.

"What relation are you of his?"

"I—I'm—"

Another doctor approached and Antoinette seemed to sag. "Ree," she said.

Ree was small and muscular and wrapped her strong arms around Antoinette, "He'll be okay." She led Antoinette and the other doctor down a hall to an empty room. Antoinette slowly sank onto the plastic chair by the bed.

"She runs a foster home," Ree explained to the other doctor. "Let the bureaucrats figure out this 'relation' shit. Did you find him like that?" she peered at Antoinette intently.

"Yes. Yes, what is wrong with him?"

The other doctor sat on the bed. "He likely has a burst appendix—his abdomen is incredibly swollen. We're checking right now. His collarbone is also broken, and two lower ribs and his right arm. And…" she glanced at Ree.

Ree leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes and sighed. She opened them. "He's been horribly abused, Antoinette. Someone has whipped him and his back is covered in lacerations and they're too infected for us to stitch. The appendicitis is likely from severe dehydration, and the broken bones from abuse." She took a deep breath.

"…Antoinette-"

"I'm taking him," she said firmly.

"Aunty, he's—You're capable of a great many things, my dear, but this is different. You've never had a foster with this level of abuse before. Do you realize what a responsibility he will be? Who knows the level of psychological damage—I just don't—It could become worse, you see? Through no fault of your own, but for the fact that you're unable to give enough attention to someone like this. I'm not trying to insult you…"

Antoinette rubbed her eyes. "What else can I do, Ree," she sighed. "Give him up to the state? He'll just end up somewhere similar…"

Ree was silent. She raised her face to the ceiling and closed her eyes.

"I'm taking him," Antoinette's voice was gravelly but firm. "At least my place is better than others."

Ree squeezed Antoinette's shoulder, but her face was stern and blank. She retreated and looked at the floor. After a moment she looked up. "We'll go check the results of the CT scan."

Antoinette slowly came back to life as time went by. At the payphone in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and called her house and made sure one of the older kids had a handle on things. Then she called Debienne and murmured a long voicemail into the phone about what'd happened—more from a feeling of obligation than anything else. Then she went back into the small room and starting making a grocery list on a prescription notepad.

By the time she'd finished planning meals for the week the tall doctor had returned. Antoinette looked up.

"His appendix only had a small rupture," the doctor smiled. "Really, you got him here just in time. He's gonna be fine. We've got a cast all fixed up for his arm and the lacerations all cleaned out.

"Just go home," she said kindly. "He's got to stay overnight, you've done the most you can for today. Just go home."

Antoinette stood, weak and stiff, and nodded. "Thank you," she murmured. "God…"

The doctor nodded. "He'll be okay. Things will work out okay."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At six p.m., Megan and company rolled into New Orleans. The car had slowly filled with quiet but excited chatter, Raoul typing away in the front seat with loud static emitting from his headphones. Christine sat up and peered eagerly out the window, leaning way out, to see the elevated graves in Saint Louis cemetery, tall concrete and marble coffins, different shades of gray crammed together. "Wow," she grinned. "Wow!"

Aaron glanced over at her in the midst of singing along with the radio. "I had a girlfriend who was obsessed with that voodoo queen chick buried there. Should've known then."

"Aaron…" Megan sighed in the front seat but the smile in her voice was evident and reflected in the rearview mirror. Aaron returned to singing. Christine trailed her hand out the window, moving it up and down with the air, and smiled to herself with a quiet joy. Her inner tumult from loneliness had settled to a peace, a relief, a pure happiness. How do you forget how glorious friendship is so quickly?

They pulled into the hotel and were met with the smell of cleaning supplies and linens and chlorine—the hotel smell. Their hall was full of activity and Aaron and Megan cheerfully greeted a couple other students attending the conference.

In the room, Raoul flopped down on a bed immediately. He pulled out one headphone. "Are you guys going out? 'Cause if you do, I won't object. I'd be really grateful, actually."

"Quit being an ass," Megan set down a cooler loudly.

Christine bit her lip. An uncomfortable feeling shifted and she hurriedly followed Aaron out to grab the other coolers.

"Ignore Raoul," he advised in the parking lot. "He's kind of a prick when he's stressed."

And I thought he was so nice… Ah, welcome back, un-peaceful real life.

"Mm," Christine nodded.

They returned and there was a studied silence in the room. Christine set her bag in one corner and picked up her purse.

"Shall we roll out?" Aaron looked around. "Raoul, you want anything?"

Raoul grunted a no, slumped with the computer on his lap. Megan shot him a dirty look before standing from the end of the bed. "Christine, you know we're going clubbing, right? Did you bring anything?"

"Oh! Um, yeah…"

"Well, change, girlfriend! We're not coming back here, the French Quarter's a bit too far to go back and forth."

Fifteen minutes later, Christine was headed down the street in a tight navy blue dress she'd brought without ever expecting to wear. Megan looked her older, taller sister in a tighter and shorter red skirt and heels and Christine inwardly admired her ability to walk so effortlessly. Aaron put his arms around their waists. "You two better scatter when we get into the clubs," he warned.

"Hey!" Megan leaned away. "What the hell, you're supposed to look out for us!"

"I'm lookin' out for moi, brosef. Nobody's gonna talk to me with you two around, you'll intimidate the shit out of them."

"Aww," Megan fake-pouted as Christine grinned and looked at the ground. "Sugar."

"Well," Aaron pointed out, "I might have a chance if they see Christine's feet."

"I know," Christine exclaimed mournfully. "I can't believe I only brought these. I look so confused, all dressed up, in Birkenstocks."

Megan laughed. "You're still gahh-geous, dahling." She ruffled Christine's hair.

You're so beautiful, Christine.

It was a quake, a shudder, a flood. It was gone. She stared straight ahead as his voice faded in her memory and the image of his outline in the dark and his arm on her ribs, and she felt both a keen loss and relief.

They wandered around the French Quarter for a time, the buildings bunched together close, French in design with bougainvillea hanging from baskets on their balconies. Bourbon Street was crowded as was apparently usual; people spilling from bars and carrying their drinks drunkenly down the road, loud base erupting from open windows. A topless woman stood outside one door, covered in nothing but paint, and what was obviously a prostitute stood just inside the doorway of another bar.

"Holy shit," wide-eyed, Christine smiled nervously at Aaron and Megan.

"Yeah… It's pretty wild," Aaron laughed.

They got muffuletta sandwiches—a salty olive salad with cheese and four different kinds of sausage stuffed between hunks of bread—at Central Grocery, and ate on a bench on the banks of the Mississippi as the sun set. Christine's mouth felt gritty with salt by the end of it.

They ambled around Saint Louis cathedral, the gates to it now closed. Its white castle-like towers were lit by display lights and glowed and beckoned above the square. The statue of Andrew Jackson atop a rearing horse was silhouetted in the dim light.

Psychics and palm readers had begun to set up rickety card tables and paper signs around the square of the cathedral and their candles flickered like fireflies. Christine and Aaron and Megan were silent as they walked.

Christine felt a sense of magic wonder. The freedom in travel and new places, in discovery of different lives. I am a floating orb among other orbs. I am warm.

"Well," Megan checked the time on her phone as they returned to the front of the cathedral. Christine had stuck her face between the bars of the front gate and was peering up at bronze Andrew Jackson. Aaron was texting. "House of Blues?"

"Please," Aaron closed his phone with a snap.

The entrance to the House of Blues was a tiny doorway, unmarked but for the line outside and the sign above. Then the bouncer let them through and they went down a short concrete sidewalk and up the steps to an old-fashioned looking house, sandwiched between brick buildings, colorfully and loudly painted.

Inside, the building seemed to expand, with high ceilings over the dance floor and a bar both upstairs in the balcony and downstairs. A band played southern rock on the stage and the floor was filled with people. Christine's hearing disappeared in the static of the guitars and the wham of the base and the shout of voices. Lights turned the room to a shifting underwater blue.

Megan elbowed her and pointed to a back corner of the dance floor; Aaron pointed upstairs, at himself and at them. He shouted something to Megan and she replied and pointed at Christine and nodded. Aaron disappeared into the crowd and Christine followed Megan to the corner. They leaned against the wall and watched the band over the tops of heads for a time, unmoving; but soon Christine's foot started tapping, and Megan began to sway, and by the time Aaron returned with three sloshing cups Christine was dancing with an awkward sort of soberly-daring abandon.

They slowed for a moment to sip. Again Aaron whisked into the crowd.

The base ebbed and flowed and thumbed like waves and Christine bobbed amidst them. She was filled with freedom; elated with the moment; wondrous at friends where she'd given up finding them—a place she'd assumed beyond her understanding. It was the kind of happiness that bubbled up in her throat when she closed her eyes. She thrust her hands in the air and danced, love overflowing her fingertips in sparks, visible beneath her eyelids.

By the time she and Megan finished their drinks Aaron had returned with a girl and her two male friends. He dropped a lazy wink at Christine, inclining his head at the taller of the two. She almost wished the two strangers weren't there; she didn't want to pretend at restriction around someone when she felt comfortable with the whole world.

She smiled fleetingly. Aaron began swing dancing with the girl. Christine turned back to the band.

When a weight must leave your shoulders… Dance, you fool! Hah.

After a few songs, one of the guys grabbed Christine's hand and she paused and looked up. He started to shout something, but then thought better of it and gestured over at the still swing dancing Aaron and girl. The guy pointed to Christine and himself.

"Oh…" she mouthed. "I don't know how." And she pointed at them and herself and shrugged. He seemed to nod and shrug and back up. She thought he was giving up and was relieved and began to dance again when he grabbed her hand and pulled her to face him and began the steps of the dance, smiling encouragingly at her. Oops. Awkward… Um…

Then Megan began to dance with the other man and Christine glanced over her partner's shoulder to see Megan dipping back and whirling in circles. She was laughing with her head thrown back. Christine looked up at her partner suddenly with such a brilliant smile and all the happy, free feeling restored; he looked startled but grinned back, and they began to dance faster. Soon she had somewhat gotten the hang of it and was spinning quickly in that back corner, sweaty and warm from the thick air and the movement.

Finally the band took a break and Christine laughed with the sudden ability to hear and gave her partner a warm hug. He laughed in reply and patted her on the back. "Thanks!" he grinned.

She and Megan stumbled through the crowd and out onto the street where it was cool in comparison. Christine fanned herself rapidly and Megan leaned against the brick.

"This is so fun," Christine exclaimed. "I wish there were places like this in Oregon! I wish people danced like that!"

Megan laughed and peered down her shirt. "Damn, I'm sweaty."

Christine giggled and fanned her chest. "Urgh, me too."

They stayed at the club until midnight, when Aaron miraculously reappeared and was able to shout that they had a long, somewhat sketchy walk ahead of them. Drunk on dancing they started for the hotel. They talked in shouts and guffaws. The city was loud and dim and warm, lights glowing around them, low to the ground and colorful; the skyscrapers far off in the distance; and the streets were mainly empty but Christine felt safe and warm with the knowledge of all the life in the buildings nearby. Megan teased Aaron about his mystery girl and French music grew and diminished in volume from a balcony. From the hidden doorway of an old building, a smoky woman in heels and an unbearably short skirt materialized, curling a finger at the two girls. Megan let loose a burst of laughter and Aaron indignantly asked why she'd ignored him. Christine was too shocked to hear her answer.

The next three blocks they seemed to laugh without stopping. Megan had to crouch on the pavement at one point, unable to move with laughter, which made Christine and Aaron laugh longer.

At the hotel, Megan cautiously opened the door to their room, Christine and Aaron snorting behind her. She turned and giggled and hissed, "Sshhh!"

Raoul was still up, however, hunched in front of his computer on the bed. He looked up at them hurriedly. "Hey."

Christine stumbled in and finished a quiet laugh and heaved a sigh. She ran a hand through her hair and kicked off her sandals. Glanced over her shoulder at Raoul.

Beside him on the bed, crunched stiffly on its edge, Erik was peering at Raoul's computer screen.

She did not know he had only just refocused his gaze after following her in shock.

His white collared shirt was unbuttoned and wrinkled up at the throat, tie loose. Black dress pants uncomfortable and stiff looking for the setting. Erik murmured something to Raoul, pointing at the screen, and Raoul typed jerkily.

Erik looked up then and caught Christine watching him. Instinctively she snatched her gaze away, but then she felt silly and slowly looked back over at him. He was still watching her. She smiled lightly. His lips slowly turned upwards. She cast her eyes down slowly.

"Hey Erik," Megan greeted cheerfully. "How was your prez today?"

Erik jerked his gaze from Christine. "Meg, Aaron," he nodded. "It went well."

"Mmm," Megan said, playfully sarcastic, "Gotta love those details." She grinned at Christine as if sharing a private joke and Christine uncertainly smiled back.

Do you know something? Wait, when did this become a secret?

Erik yawned. "Anytime, Meg. Raoul, are you just about done? I think you've got it."

Raoul leaned back against the headboard and sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah," he huffed. "Yeah. Fine. I got it."

Erik flicked his eyes over him and Christine saw a sliver of dislike there, of unconcerned disgust. "You're welcome," he said coldly, rising.

Raoul didn't look up. "Thanks," he grunted.

Megan was watching Raoul, her expression openly angry and incredulous.

"Goodnight, Meg," Erik glanced at her, then to Christine. His eyes smiled. She found herself smiling back. Then he turned and was gone.

Christine turned rapidly bewildered eyes from the door to her feet. She slowly sat down on the edge of the other bed. Why… He never even…! A small stone of hurt curdled in her gut. Disappointed. She stood slowly.

She padded across the room, murmured "I'll be right back" to no one in particular. She was two steps from the heavy oak door when Raoul's voice stopped her.

"He's lying to you, you know."

Christine froze.

"Raoul!" Megan gasped.

"He doesn't need your help in the lab. He fucking likes you or something so he tricked you into working there."

"Raoul!"

"What? She should know; I'd want to. He's fucking creeping on you in the name of science." Here Raoul laughed derisively. "God."

"What is wrong with you right now?" Megan's voice was getting more high-pitched.

Christine stared at the door. She did not blink.

Slowly, she turned the handle and slipped out.

Numb.


Note: All that science-y stuff is true, actually, except the bit about incompletely formed skulls. I haven't found any reports of that. If you're interested, here's a web address: www .gov/pubmed/14670104

As always, please let me know what you think!