*peeks* Oops, no Knives yet. At this rate, I'm never going to get this story done

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They continued back to the plant in silence after that exchange. Anne didn't know what to say, and Mark obviously felt that he had said enough. A light tension settled between them, not indicated so much by how they reacted to each other's presence as it was by how quickly they walked back to work. Both of them had long legs, and it wasn't until they quickly overtook an old lady walking ahead of them that Anne even realized that they had begun to race.

She slowed then, and after an annoyed glance Mark followed suit. She bit back a sigh and wished that she had known four days ago what was coming. It might have made this less painful now.

She just wished that she could get through to him. When she was able to get him off-balance, able to get him to react rather than think, then he actually seemed to listen to what she had to say. But as soon as she stopped pushing at him, he retreated back into that infuriating mind set where she was nothing more than an evil monster.

She kicked at a rock, knocking it ahead of them and moving it along as they neared the plant. This whole situation was just so wrong. She hadn't been lying when she said that she wasn't a diplomat. It was a major accomplishment for her to not blurt out whatever was on her mind at any given time. Real diplomats don't ever say anything important, and here she was, telling him everything in less that a day. She never could keep her mouth shut. Why had she felt the need to unburden herself to Mark? To stop lying to him? Yeah, that probably was it.

A sigh escaped her. She hated lying. Lies only make life harder. When you lie you're just admitting that you are too weak to face the truth. She had believed that for so many years, had repeated it to those who would gloss over details in the hope that she might go easier on them. Her husband had hated it when she said that. He believed that lies were a valid tool of expression, that they had their place. It was one of the things they had argued about.

She wondered if maybe she was too weak to face this truth. Had she ever told them, told Mark and Effie how much their friendship meant to her? Had she told them that they had helped her past the nervous breakdown she had suffered after she had left Knives? She had been a wreck when she arrived in December, barely able to look people in the eye, always wondering if they were going to hurt her, too. When she had gotten the job at the plant, people had stayed away from her.

Not that she could blame them, she had still been raw inside, still trying to adapt to being around people again. Then they had become her friends, and not for any reason she could fathom. Maybe because misfits fell together? Misery loves company?

She shook her head a bit to clear it as she fished in her pocket for her security badge. Whatever the reason they had become her friends, they had been the best of friends. She had wanted to hold on to that friendship too much to risk it by telling the truth, telling them who she was and why she worked at the plant.

And now all the secrets were out. Her fear that they would hate her proved to be well-founded, and now she had to pretend that the cold shoulder didn't hurt.

So she dug deep and found a smile, plastered it to her lips, and hoped that no one looked at her eyes. The two of them walked through the lab, drawing a few glances from bored co-workers, but no one spared them a second thought.

Mark left her at the door to her office with the firm injunction to stay put while he was gone. A firm hand to her lower back propelled her into her room, and then the door was closed behind her. She sighed and sat down at her desk. Pulling up some of the smaller problems she had ignored while working on the hot project, she refreshed her memory and tried to concentrate enough to get some work done.

It was hard, though, when all she wanted to do was cry. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her elbows on the edge of the desk, but she resisted putting her head in her hands or it would all be over. Instead, she stared at the far wall and pretended that she was having a good day.

Her pretend day was shattered by the sound of the door opening behind her. Startled, and slightly ashamed to have been caught feeling sorry for herself, she quickly straightened her shoulders and plastered a professional smile on her face. She half-turned, looking back to see who had entered.

Then the smile froze on her face.

"Oh, hi Effie," she offered weakly in the face of a thundering bad mood.

"I'm only here because Mark didn't want you unobserved," she snarled.

Anne lost the smile. "I see," she said cautiously.

Effie scowled. "I hate you."

"I gathered that."

"All you plants seem to be fascinated with me. Is that the only reason you pretended to be my friend?"

"I never pretended. Ever."

"Bullshit," she snarled. "Bullshit. What is it, what makes you all think I'm so interesting?" Her voice took on a pleading note under the anger. "What's so special about me?"

Anne sighed, and finally voiced what had made her pay attention to Effie in the first place. "I think the reason the plants responded to you is because you have many of the same mental gifts we do."