TITLE: Mercury
AUTHOR: Vicinity
SUMMARY: The idea of redemption leads Yves - and Jimmy - into the heart of something more dangerous than she could have imagined. Formerly titled "The Immortality Solution."
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine.
SPOILERS: Takes place after "Jump the Shark." Makes reference to another one of my stories, "Madrigal."
AUTHOR's NOTES:
*****************************************************************************
She stares into the screen, watching alphanumeric characters scroll past. She has to find out who Anarchist17 is, what he has given her, and what it will do. She thinks that she should be terrified, and perhaps she is, but right now all she can feel is curious and slightly numb. She wonders if it is shock or simply a lack of caring. She wonders if she is just doing exactly what whoever engineered this wants her to do.
She wonders how long she will be able to keep it hidden from Jimmy. She thinks that she should get away from him as soon as possible, because she doesn't want to expose him to this and she doesn't want him to see her . . . . like this. And yet she wants him to stay. She wonders if it is situations like this that lead to personality disorders, and she thinks with a sad smile that it is already too late for something like that.
The LCD casts a pale light over her face as she enters the necessary commands. She crosses her fingers, and then lets herself relax when the next screen appears, listing employee names and user profiles. She glances over the list until she reaches number 17,a Dara Love Welhsey. She pauses for a moment, and then slowly moves to the next page. She waits, almost certain, as the image next to the corporate ID loads, and when it finalizes, she is not sure whether she should be relieved or worried. It is a blonde woman, not resembling her in the slightest. She wonders if the name is simply a coincidence, and then she thinks that it would be too perfect if it was.
She frowns, realizing that this means whatever is going on is more than just the betrayal of one person. It's a group, a conspiracy . . . she makes a note of the woman's home address, not wanting to visit Obsidian, Inc. only to discover that the setup is company-wide, and then she turns off the notebook and sighs, placing her fingers against her temples. She thinks that maybe she should wait for Jimmy before going out, and then she wonders why. She bites her lip impatiently, glancing at the clock and seeing that if she doesn't leave soon, she may miss Welhsey as she leaves for work. Making a decision, she gathers her things and closes the door behind her.
His room is light, a contrast to the darkened area she has created in her own. She lets herself in quietly, wondering if he was aware of the connotations of the key he left behind on her table. She isn't sure, and in some respects she is not sure that she would like to be.
He is sprawled across the large bed, fully clothed and apparently sound asleep. She crosses over and bends down next to him, not sure how she should awaken him. He looks so young, and then she realizes that it is no different from how he usually looks. He is young, after all, and so is she. She wonders when she stopped thinking of herself as so and when she began thinking about her mortality. She reaches out a hand to brush the hair away from his face, and then stops when he moves, rolling over slightly. Aware of a quickening in her own breathing, she pulls her hand away and goes without waking him.
Welhsey's apartment is plain, and incredibly lax with regard to security, and she is slightly surprised when she is able to make it up to the woman's quarters unquestioned. She wonders what she is going to say, and then she knocks on the door. She wonders what will happen if the woman opens the door firing and decides that the likelihood of that is slim, and indeed, the door is opened by a frail and harried-looking blonde who simply looks at her expectantly.
"Ms. Welhsey?" she asks. "Do you have a moment?"
"I'm about to leave for work," the woman answers, "but if you'd like to come in, I can spare a few seconds." She nods in response and enters the apartment cautiously, wondering if the entire meeting is being recorded.
Once the door is closed behind them, the woman raises her eyebrows. "Can I help you?"
Surprised at the apparent lack of recognition, she hesitates. "Sorry to bother you so early in the morning. I'm Elle Wyvold, and I'm interested in getting a job with your company, Obsidian . . . I saw your site online, and they listed you as someone I could talk to."
"Excuse me?" Welhsey looks taken aback. "I'm not aware . . . just a moment, please." She disappears into an adjoining room and returns aiming a small pistol. "Now who are you, again?"
Too easy, she thinks. It was too easy. "Ms. Welhsey, I assure you I'm not here to harm you. I just want to ask you some questions."
"I think I'll be the one asking questions, seeing's how I'm the one with the gun," Welhsey snaps, gesturing her into an uncomfortable looking metal chair. She sighs, mentally measuring the distance between her and the other woman, and then moves quickly, knocking the gun out of the woman's hand and forcing her onto ground, one knee in her back, before the Obsidian employee can react.
"Ms. Welhsey, I'm trying not to be difficult. Are you familiar with the name Anarchist17?" She doesn't know where that question came from, why she asked it so quickly, but beneath her the woman stops struggling.
"Oh God, you're her, aren't you? You're the woman he was meeting."
AUTHOR: Vicinity
SUMMARY: The idea of redemption leads Yves - and Jimmy - into the heart of something more dangerous than she could have imagined. Formerly titled "The Immortality Solution."
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine.
SPOILERS: Takes place after "Jump the Shark." Makes reference to another one of my stories, "Madrigal."
AUTHOR's NOTES:
*****************************************************************************
She stares into the screen, watching alphanumeric characters scroll past. She has to find out who Anarchist17 is, what he has given her, and what it will do. She thinks that she should be terrified, and perhaps she is, but right now all she can feel is curious and slightly numb. She wonders if it is shock or simply a lack of caring. She wonders if she is just doing exactly what whoever engineered this wants her to do.
She wonders how long she will be able to keep it hidden from Jimmy. She thinks that she should get away from him as soon as possible, because she doesn't want to expose him to this and she doesn't want him to see her . . . . like this. And yet she wants him to stay. She wonders if it is situations like this that lead to personality disorders, and she thinks with a sad smile that it is already too late for something like that.
The LCD casts a pale light over her face as she enters the necessary commands. She crosses her fingers, and then lets herself relax when the next screen appears, listing employee names and user profiles. She glances over the list until she reaches number 17,a Dara Love Welhsey. She pauses for a moment, and then slowly moves to the next page. She waits, almost certain, as the image next to the corporate ID loads, and when it finalizes, she is not sure whether she should be relieved or worried. It is a blonde woman, not resembling her in the slightest. She wonders if the name is simply a coincidence, and then she thinks that it would be too perfect if it was.
She frowns, realizing that this means whatever is going on is more than just the betrayal of one person. It's a group, a conspiracy . . . she makes a note of the woman's home address, not wanting to visit Obsidian, Inc. only to discover that the setup is company-wide, and then she turns off the notebook and sighs, placing her fingers against her temples. She thinks that maybe she should wait for Jimmy before going out, and then she wonders why. She bites her lip impatiently, glancing at the clock and seeing that if she doesn't leave soon, she may miss Welhsey as she leaves for work. Making a decision, she gathers her things and closes the door behind her.
His room is light, a contrast to the darkened area she has created in her own. She lets herself in quietly, wondering if he was aware of the connotations of the key he left behind on her table. She isn't sure, and in some respects she is not sure that she would like to be.
He is sprawled across the large bed, fully clothed and apparently sound asleep. She crosses over and bends down next to him, not sure how she should awaken him. He looks so young, and then she realizes that it is no different from how he usually looks. He is young, after all, and so is she. She wonders when she stopped thinking of herself as so and when she began thinking about her mortality. She reaches out a hand to brush the hair away from his face, and then stops when he moves, rolling over slightly. Aware of a quickening in her own breathing, she pulls her hand away and goes without waking him.
Welhsey's apartment is plain, and incredibly lax with regard to security, and she is slightly surprised when she is able to make it up to the woman's quarters unquestioned. She wonders what she is going to say, and then she knocks on the door. She wonders what will happen if the woman opens the door firing and decides that the likelihood of that is slim, and indeed, the door is opened by a frail and harried-looking blonde who simply looks at her expectantly.
"Ms. Welhsey?" she asks. "Do you have a moment?"
"I'm about to leave for work," the woman answers, "but if you'd like to come in, I can spare a few seconds." She nods in response and enters the apartment cautiously, wondering if the entire meeting is being recorded.
Once the door is closed behind them, the woman raises her eyebrows. "Can I help you?"
Surprised at the apparent lack of recognition, she hesitates. "Sorry to bother you so early in the morning. I'm Elle Wyvold, and I'm interested in getting a job with your company, Obsidian . . . I saw your site online, and they listed you as someone I could talk to."
"Excuse me?" Welhsey looks taken aback. "I'm not aware . . . just a moment, please." She disappears into an adjoining room and returns aiming a small pistol. "Now who are you, again?"
Too easy, she thinks. It was too easy. "Ms. Welhsey, I assure you I'm not here to harm you. I just want to ask you some questions."
"I think I'll be the one asking questions, seeing's how I'm the one with the gun," Welhsey snaps, gesturing her into an uncomfortable looking metal chair. She sighs, mentally measuring the distance between her and the other woman, and then moves quickly, knocking the gun out of the woman's hand and forcing her onto ground, one knee in her back, before the Obsidian employee can react.
"Ms. Welhsey, I'm trying not to be difficult. Are you familiar with the name Anarchist17?" She doesn't know where that question came from, why she asked it so quickly, but beneath her the woman stops struggling.
"Oh God, you're her, aren't you? You're the woman he was meeting."