It was past seven-thirty when we left the restaurant. I noticed a bit of a change with Miranda as we talked more, and the only thing on my mind was when I would tell her that I wasn't single. It was just so mean and heartless and I was trying not to be that.
I guess it's just impossible. We can't be nice all the time. I have a life, and I'm not having it ruined.
I mean, I'm still waiting for the right moment, so, I guess I'm not that heartless.
Although I half-expected the night to just be dinner and then we both go back to our hotel rooms, I also had a hunch that Miranda was going to want to do something else. Well, I was right; after leaving, Miranda asked if I wanted to take a walk around the city. I shrugged and said "yes."
We went up to the hotel lobby, and walked outside. I had my hands in my pockets, and was looking down. Just walking around with no real goal was so new to me. When was the last time I really got to do nothing? Actually, I should be saying, when was the last time I got to do nothing and I wasn't sick?
I could picture Apone giving me another lecture on how everyone else has been working hard and I've been doing nothing. I found myself experience a feeling worse than failure; the feeling of being useless. Mixed with that was the fact that I was still in the dark regarding whether or not I was suffering from post-traumatic stress. Maybe Delhoun would call when I got back to my room, and maybe I could get some sort of answer. If it was true, how do I keep it from everyone else? Would I have to say something? Would I still be looked down upon, or would people start to be more sympathetic?
Honestly, I didn't want people around me to change their thoughts just because I was found to have some kind of psychological problem. That doesn't excuse the fact that I've been lazy, I've been stupid, and I've been worthless. I suddenly wanted to close myself off, and disappear.
As we entered the denser parts of the city, I glanced around at the storefronts and the apartment buildings, and the people and androids going in and out of them. The smell of food was everywhere, but, for once, it wasn't distracting; I was too busy thinking about how I viewed myself, and my stomach was preoccupied with a heavy dinner. Someone on a street corner was playing music with an instrument case on the ground, hoping and waiting for people to drop money in. A group of women left a clothing store, blocking our way for a moment. They were all talking and laughing, and trailed by an android carrying their shopping bags. He looked like he was overworked, but seemed to be doing his best to put up with whatever it was he was putting up with.
Miranda glanced up at me when I hadn't said anything for awhile. "Are you OK? You're quiet."
"I'm alright," I lied. "Just . . . can't find anything to say."
"Ah. Well, that's OK. It's nice to walk and . . . not say anything and enjoy your surroundings."
"Yeah. That." I gave a false smile.
We kept walking after the sun had completely set. By then, it had been over thirty minutes since we left the Marriott, and around two hours since I joined Miranda for dinner. It felt like it had been more than that, and I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. At the moment, I was staring off into space when Miranda tapped my arm and handed me a small ice cream cone.
"You bought me a drink," she said, "I bought you dessert."
"I'm starting to think we're being too nice to each other," I replied, somewhat sarcastically. Honestly, I wasn't too upset; I haven't had ice cream in awhile, and anything is better than being tied a chair and starved for twenty-four hours.
Miranda grinned a little. "I like your sense of humor, Mark."
"Thanks. I like it, too."
Our evening together concluded at the bottom of the stairway leading to the mall. Miranda gave me a hug, a very long hug, I might add. She looked up at me before letting go. "Thanks for coming. I had a great time."
"No problem," I said. "I had a good time as well."
We stood there, moving to the side when we realized we were in the way of the people going in and out of the complex. The silence became awkward, and Miranda asked, "D-Do you mind if I . . ." while opening her arms again, "give you another hug?"
"Sure." I stayed still as she hugged me again, and glanced down at her. "Is it safe for me to guess that you'd like to do this again someday?"
"Yeah," Miranda replied. "Soon, though. I mean, I'm . . . going back to the university in a few days, and . . . and I know you're probably not going t-to be here very long."
"True. Hey, we'll see each other again. Maybe we can have breakfast or go some tourist spot or . . . just hang out somewhere tomorrow or the day after?"
Miranda nodded. "Yeah, we can do that." She hung onto me a little longer, like I was going to disappear when she let go.
"Look, I . . . I gotta get going," I said. "I'm exhausted, and I'd like to go to bed. I'm sure you got stuff to do in the morning-"
"Yeah. Don't remind me." Miranda let go, and walked alongside me as we headed back to the hotel lobby. In the elevator, we were crowded to a corner by other people. Miranda was almost pressed against me, and I smirked while putting my arm around her.
All in good fun, I thought, Not like anyone's gonna find out or care or whatever. As much as I wished I could be playful and flirty, I still felt haunted by guilt and stupidity. It was incredibly painful to fake all these emotions, and smiling hurt worst of all.
When we reached my floor, I may've moved too fast when I pushed my way out of the elevator, and that didn't stop Miranda from yelling, "Bye, Mark!" before the doors closed.
I stood in the hallway for far longer than I should have, feeling very alone and frustrated. Sighing, I headed back to my room, hoping to just take a hot shower and go to bed. After opening the door, I was greeted by silence and two empty beds. "Aran?" I said. Looking to my right, I saw there was no one in the bathroom. OK, so he went on a walk or something. I get it; he feels restless and doesn't want to be cooped up in here. That's fine.
What made my heart skip a few beats was the fact that his notebook was on the nightstand. That's his means of communication; there's no way he'd leave that here. Then again, he could've simply forgot it. It's not like he wouldn't find something else to write on.
It's been a little over an hour since coming back and finally laying down in bed, and still no sign of Aran. I'm trying not to jump to any conclusions. Aran's probably fine. He just needed to go outside and roam around to stop feeling stuck. He'll be back. Soon. I think.
Well, when I woke up around five in the morning, Aran still wasn't back. I have every right to be worried. After searching the room, I realized there was a message on the answering machine of the phone, and wondered how I didn't see the blinking light earlier. While putting my pants on, I pressed the button on the machine.
"Private Drake? This is Doctor Hornby. I hope you're having a restful night. Must be, considering you didn't pick up the phone. Uh, anyway, I'm calling to let you know that your Engineer friend is safe and sound with me at the hospital. Please, do us all a favor and don't stop by, because there will be consequences similar to those you experienced a few days ago. No need to worry. I can compromise. Hudson is going to be released in twelve hours, and I'll release your Engineer friend as well. Again, have a good night, Drake." The message ended.
I felt like I had been punched in the chest. "Son-of-a-bitch," I muttered, struggling to compose myself. My eyes filled with tears, and I clenched my fists. "You better not hurt Aran!" So many things were running through my head. I tried not to blame myself for this, but that was like trying to keep a wave from crashing on you by holding up your hands. I couldn't make myself move, and I sat on the bed for some time with my pants up but my fly still open. A cold, heavy ball of leaden anger and guilt was sitting in my stomach. I eventually got out of bed, zipped up my pants, grabbed a shirt and boots, and left the room.
With no way of contacting Delhoun, I was on my own. Unless, of course, I went to Miranda. I didn't want to go to Miranda, but I felt like I had no choice. While riding up the elevator to her floor, I told myself that I couldn't appear angry when she answered the door, but that felt impossible to do.
I did take a few deep breaths before knocking on the door, but any idiot could tell that did absolutely nothing. Miranda opened the door, and I said, "I'm not putting up with this anymore. First, I can't get Hudson back. Now, I get a message on the phone saying that another friend of mine is being held in that damn hospital, and-"
"Mark, slow down. What happened?" Miranda replied, taking my hand to pull me into the room.
I did my best to explain everything regarding Aran. Miranda sat and listened, but I should have known that she wouldn't be able to offer much help.
"What do you want me to do? Do you have any idea that Hornby wields a lot of power now that he has a live Engineer? I mean, sure, the company's studied dead ones, but a live one? Last time a live Engineer was found, it killed members of the expedition sent to find them. Hornby can get whatever he wants now. All he has to do is negotiate with the right person for funding or resources or whatever, and simply hand over Aran. Dear God, he may even use the silver flowers to keep Aran pacified."
"So, what do we have to do get him out of there?"
"I don't think there's anything you can do."
I sighed and rubbed my face, my heart starting to ache. "This is all my fault, isn't it?"
"No. How could it be your fault?"
"I left Aran alone while he was sick."
"You didn't know this was going to happen."
"Still. This whole trip is a disaster. Nothing has gone my way. I've fucked up at every turn. All I've done is hurt people."
"You haven't-"
"Yes, I have. I . . . It's my fault Hudson got poisoned. It's my fault my entire squad is mad at me for how lazy I am. It's my fault that I got poisoned a month ago. It's my fault that I got mad at Bishop and got in trouble for it, and it's completely my fault that I got sent to prison." My face was warm, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. "It's my fault I can't . . . process emotions well. It's my fault that I can't deal with the nightmares from those damn flowers. It's my fault I can't stop blaming myself." I tried to swallow past a lump in my throat. "Everything that's happened here . . . just . . . wouldn't have happened if I wasn't around."
"Mark, don't talk like that."
I didn't say another word. I felt incredibly vulnerable. Every part of me was hurting, and dreams and memories came flooding back. I remembered Aran lifting me up to comfort me when I almost broke down in a restaurant. I remembered the dream I had where Hudson was yelling at the doctor who threw me out of the room, "You can't do that, man! He sounded like he was hurting!" I thought about how I tried to fight with myself while I was trapped in that warehouse, how I thought I won, but I ended up beating myself back down.
I felt like someone was squeezing every organ in my torso. I felt like this whole trip was a way of saying that I had failed at life.
Then I thought back to the dream and Aran. Even though it was a dream, Hudson acknowledged that I was hurting. Aran didn't seem to care that we were in public; he knew I was upset and tried to help in the simplest way possible. He wouldn't want me to quit. Not now, not ever.
"Mark?" Miranda was holding a tissue, trying to wipe away the tears from my face. "Are you OK?"
I took a breath, trying to mentally get back up. Like in the warehouse, I felt like I had just lifted my head a little, looking at the part of me that kept beating me back down. There was no good side or bad side. It was simply me, standing in my own way, like a reflection in a mirror. I felt bad for him, because he was the part of me struggling with my past. He was the one feeling guilty all the time, but he had to stop dragging down the part of me trying to make up for my past sins.
For once, he backed down, glaring at me with his fists clenched. Each time I made effort, he kept backing away, but when I was in a sitting position, he moved a little closer, threatening me. I glared back, as if to say, "I'm not letting you kick me down anymore."
Coming back to reality, I replied to Miranda, "I'm OK. Needed a good cry, that's all."
"You don't want to hurt yourself?"
"No, of course I don't wanna fucking hurt myself."
"Are you sure? I'm not leaving you alone until you're absolutely sure."
"I'm sure." Considering my words weren't convincing enough, I reached over to move Miranda's hair out of her eyes, and grinned when that made her blush. "Do you believe me now?"
"No."
I leaned in closer. "How about now?"
Miranda smirked. "Charming looks aren't going to make me say 'yes.'"
I moved closer until our noses were touching. I noticed Miranda's breath quickened, and we both jumped when someone knocked on the door.
"Miss Harrison? You were supposed to be down in the lobby ten minutes ago," an older woman's voice said.
"I slept in!" Miranda replied. "I'm still getting dressed!" She looked at me, whispering, "That's Doctor Madell. Get in the bathroom and hide."
I didn't say anything as I crept over to the bathroom, slowly and quietly closing the door behind me. I sat on the floor, hearing Miranda quickly get dressed before rushing over to the room door.
"Good morning, Doctor," she said. "I'm s-sorry if I look . . . like a mess-"
"That's none of my concern, Miss Harrison. You should've been up and downstairs a long time ago, which would've been made easier if you weren't out so late last night," Madell replied.
"I wasn't . . . out late."
"Really? I saw you dressed for a casual night out while heading back up to my room. Tell me, are you seeing someone?"
"N-No."
"Just out on your own?"
"Y-Yes."
"Oh. My apologies, then. I was going to give you some advice on how to keep a man with you, given your unfortunate situation regarding relationships." Madell gave a small laugh. "Yes, I was once a young lady as yourself. Anyway, today's conference is going to be rather short. Hornby's gathered enough research to submit to that young skunk Burke. He'll be handing out copies after the lunch hour. I have to ask, what do you think about the silver flower being potentially added to the curriculum?"
I had an urge to sneeze, and was trying to stop it by clamping down on my nose and mouth with both hands.
Miranda was saying, "I think it's important we know how to treat silver flower poisoning. It's horrible! Look at what it did to that poor man in the lab!"
"I know, dear, he was in terrible shape. Hopefully, Hornby wasn't lying when he said that today would spent on recovery. Speaking of recovery, I got a phone call about your old android, Mathias, last night. A gentleman at a repair station in Rosslyn said that the police brought him in after he attacked someone here, at the Marriott. I know you put in a request for a new android, but . . . if you'd like a second chance with Mathias, that can be arranged."
Miranda sighed. "Yes, I would like a second chance with Mathias. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and . . . what I did to him was wrong. He deserves an apology."
"We all make mistakes in life. The important thing is to learn from them. Now, let's head on downstairs."
"Hold on. Let me get my purse together. I'll meet you down there."
I heard the door close, but I still wasn't ready to sneeze. Actually, I was beyond ready, but I was struggling to hold it in. For moment, I wondered if every blood vessel in my face was going to burst.
Miranda opened the bathroom door. "Mark, you're clear."
I let go of my face, and sneezed.
"Bless you! Are you OK?"
"I am now. Jesus, that woman's chatty," I said, grabbing a tissue from a box on the sink.
"I know, right? She's a decent person, but there are times-" Miranda clenched her fists. "When . . . When can we s-see each other again?"
"Well, if Hornby's telling the truth about releasing Hudson and Aran this afternoon, maybe we can both go down to the hospital and retrieve them."
Miranda nodded, and hugged me as soon as I stood up. "I hope you were telling the truth about being OK."
"Dear God, it was just a sneeze-"
"Not that, you silly! About earlier, when you were saying how none of this shit going on would have happened if you weren't around!"
I tried to give her a convincing smile while gently pressing her to my body. "What's it gonna take for you to believe me when I say I'm alright? You listened. That's all I wanted." I gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You better get going before Madell comes back. I'll meet you at the Metro platform at . . . four-thirty, OK?"
"OK." Slowly pulling away from me, Miranda didn't stop staring at me as she picked up her purse and jacket before leaving the room. This time, I didn't follow her to the elevator; I headed past the elevators to sit on a couch and stare outside at the traffic below.
Question of the Chapter: Considering the events of the previous story, is Hicks still correct in thinking Drake should get a medal of courage for saving Hudson, or do the events of this story make that null and void?
