Christine's eyes widened as Cassie opened the door to Dylan's apartment. She had assumed she'd be gone by now, not that she had called her since "Revelation Day". There were times she desperately needed her friend's clarity and support—after all, Cassie shared her views on marriage. She craved Cassie's razor-sharp mind to help her evaluate whether Kepler's marriage proposal was real, a test, a trick to help him avoid uncomfortable farewell scenes or a complete figment of her imagination. But no matter how much she needed her, she couldn't make the call. She was confused and scared and she needed Cassie's brutal point of view back but at the same time she just…couldn't. Even if there were not so many secrets separating them—Kepler's secrets for starters—she couldn't forgive her. She couldn't move past what she had done.
"Hey, duck! Come on in! Dylan's about to leave—" She knew that. She had called to meet him before she'd head to BDS and he'd suggested her coming up there. Was it a trap to make her talk to Cassie?
Christine frowned and followed her through the long corridor into the living room. Dylan had been right: this apartment was huge and its view spectacular. Only the dark wood tones gave it a cozier note. A cozy yet very masculine tone which was now out-of-tune with Cassie's things spread all around the furniture. Christine recognized her hairbrush on the coffee table beside her favorite mug, her shoes by the dark suede leather L-shaped sofa where a couple of sheets and a blanket rested in a bundle. It was as if a messy feminine invasion had taken place, its flag a red cosmetics kit lying by the humongous TV set and a pile of books on the dark-colored carpet with Cassie's notebook and pens adorning the top.
"Lin returns to her apartment tomorrow so I'll be packing today." Cassie's voice had a conspiratorial tone. Christine felt a pang of guilt—after all, Cassie had left her job to come back when she heard of her father's funeral and ended up relying on the hospitality of Lin and Dylan. The uncomfortable feeling lasted only for a second. "Dylan is at his wit's end with my stuff here but so far he's said nothing. I'm certain he's set up a countdown on his phone counting the hours." Her smile lightened her eyes.
Christine was almost sorry for Dylan. If he didn't set rules and borders, the hurricane-Cassie would run him over in no time.
Just at that moment, the recipient of her pity entered the living room dressed like a businessman working in the City with a smile on his face that indicated that in no way was he "counting the hours". No surprise there, but the dark suit worked miracles on him and the smile softened his features. His stare fell on the unfolded mess of sheets and blanket at the corner of the sofa but only a dark blond brow arched in response to the sight.
"JC, good morning! Sorry for dragging you out here—"
"No problem, it won't take long. I just need to talk to you alone for a few minutes so if you don't mind—" Her eyes turned to Cassie. Her flinch made Christine realize these were the first words she had uttered since arriving. Her tone sounded harsh even to her own ears.
Dylan's stare turned cold and every hint of a smile disappeared.
"In my house good manners are essential, which means we don't send people to other rooms to conduct a conversation no matter how serious or private that might be. It's rude and disrespectful to my guest. I can escort you to your car and we'll talk on the way," he offered, somewhat more gently than his previous schoolmaster's tone but he raised a hand, indicating the way to the exit, and Christine felt as if he had thrown a bucket of cold water all over her face.
Embarrassed and red-faced, she had turned towards the corridor when Cassie's voice reached her, cheery and mock-reprimanding. It was also half an octave higher than usual, which could only indicate how uncomfortable she herself felt at the scene.
"In my house and under my roof—" Cassie mimicked Dylan's cold tone. "Don't be silly, Da—"
"Don't you even say it!" Dylan turned his attention to her.
"—ddy," Cassie completed the word. "Look at that—he has this disapproving eyebrow movement he's mastered—see? See how it goes up in that particular angle? It's paired with a frown of utter condemnation that he thinks is so intimidating. Daddy!"
To her amazement, Christine noticed that Dylan's face had turned red as a result of what seemed a mixture of embarrassment and true anger.
"Cassandra, I wish—" His voice was ten times colder than it had been before but Cassie had succeeded in her goal. The awkward situation had dissolved giving way to…another awkward situation.
"It's nothing kinky, Dylan. I call JC 'mom' at times. Ask her! When she gets preachy and all…. That's what you get when you get that pompous. Anyway, I promised French toast for breakfast and if I don't hurry, it'll be French coal. By the way, nice bag, JC!"
She left them alone with a fake smile and suspiciously bright eyes that made Christine feel like the absolute villain. Again. It was becoming a habit these days.
"Dylan, I'm sorry—" It was true. She had never decided to use the silent treatment on Cassie.
"It is I who have to apologize, JC, for my tone." Not for his words.
"I didn't mean to hurt her—"
"But you did. Not only now but also when you didn't return her calls. I like you, JC, and I see your point of view, but I won't allow you to use Cassandra as your personal punching bag. I take full responsibility for pressuring her to reveal something that—obviously—your relationship was not strong enough to handle."
"Not strong enough? Is that a challenge?" She wouldn't allow a man in a suit to manipulate her.
"Take it as you want. I can't force you to forgive her but if you want to do it, I'd suggest you start working on it because forgiving is hard work. If you can't, just tell her so and move on."
"Kepler doesn't believe in forgiveness."
"And what's the deal? You're becoming Kepler Number Two? That never stopped him from having good manners and being respectful to people."
"You sound like a strict schoolmaster." If she judged by the way his features softened and the faint red on his face he was also thinking about Cassie and her "Daddy" scene. "I'm worried about him."
"I am, too." He sighed heavily. "But I also trust him."
"He doesn't trust anyone."
"He trusts you."
Tears welled in her eyes and she pushed them back, seeing Dylan's desperate stare. Poor man! To have two women on the brink of tears in his apartment.
"I know he doesn't trust me but friendship doesn't have to be balanced you know. What did you want to ask me?"
"Have you heard from him?"
"Only the message he sent me the first day he arrived. We talked about it—"
So she was luckier. She had a message every day at the same hour. Polite, thoughtful with a hint of humor. "He was fine and he'd be back soon" in all its variations and forms. With symbols, words and numbers to the point of riddles to understand what he meant. Sent at the same time as if they were programmed to be sent. Kepler was able to do just that if he wanted to. How could she explain that to Dylan?
"It's hardly been four days, JC. He's not there on vacation—"
"I know that. That's why I'm worried. What if something bad happens? Something really bad?" She paused, not daring to bring Gallagher into the picture. "What if he gets arrested? You know he can be reckless at times."
"The only time he was reckless lately had to do with your safety. He has no reason to be reckless now. On the contrary—" His meaningful smile did nothing for her state of mind.
"Then why did you tell me about his warrant? The risks of this journey?"
Dylan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Maybe I hoped you'd persuade him not to go. Please don't look like that! It's not as if he's charged with felony murder, JC. Kepler is not Spencer. He's not afraid of jail time." If he meant to reassure her, his words had the exact opposite result. Thankfully, her almost freaked out expression forced him to continue. "The main reason Kepler should not get arrested is that this will signal an alert we don't need at the moment."
"What kind of alert?"
"An alert that he's back, alive and active. That's the last thing Kepler needs at the moment. As I understand things, there are two kinds of people Kepler needs to stay away from: potential clients who can pressure him and old clients who seek payback."
"Payback?" She hated the way her voice betrayed her worry and confusion.
"Come on, JC…you know about Kepler's and Spencer's encryption."
"The one Gallagher used for his Library."
"Exactly. They didn't do it for free. They sold it to specific clients, to the highest bidder. They were paid good money for it. Imagine if you've paid millions to ensure you can discreetly wire money to your clients around the globe or sell weapons or whatever these people used the encryption for and then you realize that it was all for nothing because the hackers you paid a fortune to suddenly grew a conscience and decided to distribute the decryption you purchased as if it was public domain goods. You know the deal: journalists and hackers all around the world received this decryption to help Kepler and Spence with the Library. Do you think there were no leaks? Do you think their screwed-up clients will welcome Kepler and Spence back with open arms?"
Christine bit her lip, shaken. How could she be so naïve?
"Let me get you a glass of water," Dylan muttered and once more Christine wished she were more cool and collected. She wished she was one of those iron ladies who heard the most unthinkable stuff and never blinked. Were they strong, insensitive or just brain-damaged? Dylan opened the closed kitchen door and Cassie's feigned cheesy, yet shaky voice announced "French coals it is! They burned after all—"
The door closed behind him and Christine was hit by the absurdity of burned French toast, of holding grudges and of letting her friend get involved with a man who had just explained Kepler's risks and problems in a perfectly calm voice as if reading a story to a little girl. Shouldn't she warn Cassie? She had lost that choice long ago but should she let her friend be sunk into all this?
Dylan came back in the living room with a glass of water and his tie knotted straighter than before. Christine drank the water, imagining Cassie arranging the knot of his tie, playing house with Dylan, preparing him for the mysterious appointment that required him to wear a three-piece suit. She made a mental note to ask him but instead she silently followed him to her car where John Barrett was waiting as he did every morning. All she could think of was why did she let Kepler go back to the States and, more importantly, why did she let him go alone?
Dylan moved to open the car door but just before he did he turned to her, forcing Christine to look up at his unnerving eyes. She realized now what she found disturbing about them: his irises had no darker outline, making the eye look bigger, the indecipherable bluish color had nothing to separate it from the white.
"Please try to make up with Cassandra." He sounded somber but the way he had blocked her escape to the car irritated her.
"What if I decide not to 'mend fences' with Cassie? Where does this leave us?" she challenged him.
"To the polite, well-mannered relationship we have so far. I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm not taking sides, JC. I know what she did was wrong and to be honest I'm not sure she fully comprehends how wrong it was but she feels awful not having you in her life. And sometimes, even 'mending fences' is not good enough. Fences set borders, they exist to keep everything clean and tidy but—if I'm right—what you had was rare."
"I thought you were the 'clean and tidy' kind of guy."
"True, true." He smiled one of those dizzyingly dazzling smiles of his, fully aware of her deflection, yet not allowing her the luxury. "But sometimes, I surprisingly find that a touch of controlled chaos—emphasis on controlled—is welcome in life." His eyes became serious again. "When Spencer screwed up everything I was harder on him than anyone else, Kepler included. Kepler chose silence and Phase I later, but I couldn't restrain myself. I even told him I'd remove the tattoo we did—childish, I know. I told him I didn't want anything to remind me of him and how sick he'd become," he grimaced, "and now it's been removed anyway." He averted his stare but when he looked at her again his eyes were soft and sad. "The problem with all this is that when you think it can't get any worse, you find yourself recollecting the dreadful past as if it's better than the present. It keeps getting worse and worse." He removed the hand that blocked her way into the car and finally opened the door. "Don't be too hard on Cassandra."
The door closed and Barrett took over effortlessly, silently, the way Kepler—Radek—always had in the past. Oh yes, the past could be better than the present even if we had regarded it as awful at the time. She shook her head, remembering the way Radek's presence had tormented her with guilt. Was she wasting time, energy and feelings holding a grudge against Cassie? Was any of this remotely important when Kepler was away?
Christine smiled bitterly at her pathetic love struck self. She looked at Barrett's huge shoulders, at his stare focused on the street. Who was she fooling? There was no fate, no soul mates, which was just a stupid concept created only to sell more cards on Valentine's Day. There wasn't love at first sight—maybe there was love at first sound with Kepler—otherwise one of those lightning-vibes the romance books described all the time would have warned her that Radek was her man, that she shouldn't waste time. No, instead of that, she had ridden the same car day in, day out, avoiding him because she felt uncomfortable to have someone driving her around. Why hadn't she sat in front? Why had she let so much time go wasted, missing the signs? Was it so easy for her to get distracted, absorbed in her own world? Hardly noticing him, she had preferred her laptop or watching strangers passing and missed the man she loved, who had sat silent a few feet away. Kepler was right—there was no use regretting—but if she had missed something so monumental, what else might she have missed?
It was still lunch break at BDS when her phone rang. Disappointed at seeing Dylan's number, Christine answered it without averting her eyes from the computer screen. Kepler's little hack job had had them all working hard to make sure everything would be working properly for the upcoming Phase II.
"Goodman—" she muttered, pretending she hadn't seen who was calling.
"I hate being the bearer of bad news but it's forming a pattern lately." Dylan certainly knew how to grab one's attention.
"Kepler?"
"No, no news from that front," he rushed to clarify. "But it's related to him. Remember the blood on Spencer's tattoo that didn't match Spencer's blood type?" She nodded even though he couldn't see her and turned to see who else was in the lab during lunch break. "Kepler had asked me to think out of the box for this one so I ran some tests. The blood on the tissue is Kepler's."
"That can't be," said Christine in a clipped voice. She was alone in the lab but all rooms were monitored and she wasn't sure about sound.
"I know! There is no question about the tests though. They have already run two separate tests. It's final."
"Who do you think may have access—"
"To Kepler's blood and DNA?" he completed the sentence for her. "It may be a long shot but I was thinking—"
"Raoul?" There was silence on the other end of the line. "Will you please send me Dan's or Olek's phone number? I need something before I confront Raoul."
"JC? Be very careful. Don't do anything rash—"
"What do you mean?"
"I heard from Kepler you have a short temper…this is not the time for a full confrontation. Don't do more damage than good."
Christine took a deep breath to compose herself before answering that.
"I know, Dylan, don't worry. I'll let you know what happened." She hung up the phone knowing he was right but still pissed off about it. Her temper was the reason she had been avoiding Raoul after finding out his role in Phase I related to her P8 but now this was a whole different case.
It had been the longest of days for more reasons than she could count and Christine was already on an adrenaline high when she knocked on Raoul's office door. It was no surprise he was still there that late in the evening, or that he looked as if his day had started just now and not more than twelve hours ago. Christine accepted his silent offer to sit in the chair in front of his desk and waited till he finished his phone call. To gather her wits and compose herself, she read Kepler's latest message again, the first one with a more personal note to it.
"S. likes raisins—considers them health food. They leave a sticky coat on fingers that always finds its way onto the keyboard." An emoticon with a disgusted face followed and a plain "Miss u." Christine didn't miss the fact he didn't share S's name or even the gender of the person helping him—always the cautious Kepler—but that didn't stop the smile from reaching her face. Again.
"JC, what can I do for you?"
"I need some time off due to personal reasons." Her words slapped the smile off of his face.
"What do you mean? You need a couple of days?"
"No. I need unpaid leave. I need a few months."
"Months? Are you kidding me? Can my Lab Manager be absent during Phase II?"
"I'm sorry but I don't think I can be useful to you. Of course, I'll give you the appropriate time to replace me but I'd like that to be as soon as possible."
"JC…you can't mean this."
She meant every last word and every last consequence her action would entail. Being the fourth person in a row who would be leaving his team would inevitably draw a dire picture of his administrative skills if nothing else. And her promotion having been his choice would call every little decision he made into question. Even with his mastery of corporate politics she doubted he'd be able to survive this blow unscathed. What she didn't expect though was the complete absence of regret on her part.
She watched him leave his leather seat, round the desk and lean on it, towering over her. The gesture didn't go unnoticed. She lifted her head up to meet his stare but she refused to get up or show discomfort.
"Is there a reason for that sudden decision? I think I'm entitled to know why my trusted Laboratory and Scientific Information Manager—you're more than that pathetic title and you know it!—chooses to blow Phase II into pieces."
She hadn't believed there would be a day she'd be immune to guilt or flattery. Christine almost smiled at the thought and braced herself for the words she had rehearsed.
"Of course. P8 is the reason I'm removing myself from your team. P8 and your actions."
She focused on reading his face. If there was a little facial expression, a little muscle movement that would betray him she didn't want to miss it. Raoul leaned more heavily on the desk, then closed his eyes and shook his head as if not believing she would blow everything for something so trivial.
"Did Wilson blow the whistle on me? I expected he'd have his conscience call at some point but I'd hoped that would be on his deathbed or something. Whatever he told you he was equally to blame and none of us are responsible for P8's death. We were following his progress. There was nothing we could have done to prevent it. No one gained anything from this, JC."
If Raoul thought P8 was dead there was no way he was involved now with Kepler or Spencer's tattoo. If he was lying, he had to be the best actor in the world.
"You sound like you have all the answers. Maybe even rehearsed them. I know everything so I'd appreciate some honesty for a change."
"Are you sure you can handle it? Did you honestly expect any of us to let a 26-year-old become the man of the century for BDS?"
"For starters, I'm not a man. To think I always wondered whose great idea it was to divide the team into two. I thought I owed gratitude to the one who had given me a chance. But there wouldn't even be a Phase II if a young, immature leader hadn't taken the fall, isn't that right? And you'd never allow a woman to take your glory."
"Give me some credit, please," he raised an elegant eyebrow as if hurt, "that was Wilson, and you being a woman was the least of it even for him. A man died, JC. What would that do to Wilson's career? To mine? You were the perfect face for BDS, its methods, its politics, its twenty-first-century strategy, but until you grow up and really deal with the crappy part of BDS you can do no better than the Lab Manager position. And don't think it's different in BioI. You have to sell a part of yourself to get the best funding, the best sponsors. If you think I enjoy it, think again! But I can't perform Bioprinting in my back yard or in my garage so I play the game. Start playing the game, JC. Get on the grown ups team and I'll be by your side, if you want me."
There was no way he was pretending. He was truly exasperated as if she were the one to blame, she were the one at fault, the one who didn't play by the rules. Most of all, what convinced her was Raoul's endless attempt to persuade her, to manipulate her into not leaving, not destroying his chance. This was a filthy game he was playing but it had nothing to do with Spencer or Kepler. At least she hadn't been deceived in that.
"And what if I don't want to play the game?"
"You'll always have a place on my team but have no illusions. This is the way the game is played. There is no other."
"Then you have to find another Lab Manager. I quit."
He looked at her for the longest of moments. She knew what was crossing his mind. The small window of time he had in order to have something ready before BioI's announcement in spring was closing. She had been his choice so he'd take the fall for this. To his credit he didn't say anything else, didn't bring up the rest of the team or what it'd do to them. He could have made it really ugly for her.
At that moment Christine really respected the politician in him. That was the final blow after Kepler's machinations and she couldn't help wondering whether Kepler had expected her to resign, whether he had planned to destroy Raoul in that particular way for feeding him to the wolves or for not protecting him when he had been vulnerable or simply because he had sabotaged her opportunity to succeed in Bioprinting. Only Kepler could answer that but this was certainly something Kepler could have done following his own very personal sense of justice.
But Kepler was not here and she didn't know the full motives for his decisions. What she did know though was that her time at BDS was over. The same went for her access to its files even though that was a small issue with Kepler and Olek in the game. She was using Kepler's words now. Everything was a game. Raoul had also talked about the rules of the game she was unable to follow. Was it a man thing? A sign they refused to grow up?
She pressed her hands on the arms of her chair to push herself up. Raoul took a few steps to the side to give her some space. She stood before him and eyed the hand he offered her with interest.
"I see that I can't change your mind." It wasn't that he had exhausted himself in trying but what would the use be of having such animosity inside the team? If she knew him at all, Raoul was already making plans for the future.
"No, you can't." She took his hand and shook it. It was a firm shake. A goodbye. When it ended, he didn't let go of her hand. He placed his other palm on top of hers and narrowed his eyes.
"We're not so different, you know."
"I hope we are."
"We put science first. No matter what you think, I always put science first."
Christine smiled at his words. Until a few months ago she had believed she did, too. Kepler had showed her this had never been the case. She always put people first. Even when P8 had been an anonymous patient the burden of his death had shadowed her life in a way Raoul would never have allowed in his own life. At that moment, all Kepler's pleas urging her to use his medical files seemed so foolish. She would never put science before Kepler, didn't he know that?
Her smile became broader. She'd have liked to claim that ruining Raoul's future in BDS was for the sake of people. Because they were not ready—Dylan was right about that—and she couldn't allow Phase II to risk lives but it was more than that. It was revenge.
If there was one person in the whole world who could appreciate Kepler's face, the miracle Bioprinting was, the miracle they had achieved, it was that very man who held her hand, who tried to read her cryptic smile but failed.
And that was the greatest revenge of all.
Christine settled into the back seat of the car as she pressed the speed-dial for Dylan's phone number.
"How did it go?" he cut to the chase. He'd picked it up just after the first ring.
"Without bumps," was all she said. "Can we talk?"
"Yes, sure."
"I'll be waiting for you in Kepler's apartment in half an hour." She ended the call and let her head fall back on the seat. Dylan could be upset by her…lack of manners, but she couldn't have cared less. Perhaps it suited her best to have him upset and confused.
She was on yet another adrenaline high. She had just erased a name from her list and moved to the next one.
I'm posting this using a friend's computer as my own has gone crazy and probably needs life support.
Since I'm not sure when I'll post next...have a good week and stay safe.
Share the love, guys! It's the least one can do nowadays.
TOWDNWTBN, thank you!