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:
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 reaches for the volume control almost subconsciously, turning the knob while she stares at the screen. The onscreen Matthew sits down across from Welhsey and hands her a slim folder. "The files," he says, and Welhsey nods. She opens the folder, glancing at the contents, and as she watches the screen, she wishes that she could enhance that corner, to see what the folder contained. That will come later, she tells herself. The blonde skims through the papers and then looks up at Matthew.
"You're meeting her soon?" Welhsey queries flatly, and then she thinks she knows what the files are, suddenly realizing that she is sitting in the dead woman's chair, mirroring her actions.
"As soon as I can. She's pressing for a date," the man says. "The sooner, the better, for both of us."
"All four of us, really. Any progress with regard to Corin's group?" She does not react to the mention of her father, because she knew it would come eventually.
"They're still not letting us in," Matthew hisses, suddenly angry, and she wonders why. He sighs, and then he shrugs. "I don't know, Dara. I don't know what he wants, what he wants me to do, but he's always there. Always watching me with that damned knowing look. I don't know . . ."
Welhsey reaches across the desk to touch his shoulder. "We'll do it, Matthew. We'll do it together." And then the woman turns around, her hand filling the camera screen, and then it is black.
She leans back slightly, wondering who was the last to view this video. Welhsey? Maybe, but she doesn't think that she would really need to. And looking at the date the video was created, Welhsey only had a day to do so. She shudders slightly, replaying mental images of the woman's death, and she wonders how Matthew could have allowed himself to do it, could have destroyed her with the memories of even the previous day's conversation in mind. She knows, though, that somehow he did, and she wonders how much she has underestimated him. She folds her arms over her chest, sighing. Wondering what she is going to do now, what she is supposed to be doing. She thinks it was easier when she had a goal, a purpose, and when it was not her life that she was attempting to save.
Something moves in her peripheral vision, and she glances up at the computer screen. The video frame has been replaced by a black screen, a light cursor flashing in the corner. As she watches, it moves to allow letters to appear. She watches transfixed as it spells out a message.
Hello. I am here. Is this a test? I am watching you.
She hesitates, wondering who it is from. Who is watching her. Trying to decide whether to attempt to reply or to get the hell out of the office. She is reaching for the mouse when the screen flickers and returns to the original video program. She jumps and it takes a surprising effort for her to flick the power switch on the computer for a manual shutdown. She rises and crosses the room, not sure if the electronic doors are going to lock. Not sure if the message was a warning or a joke. If . . .
And then she is walking down the hall, up the stairs, moving as fast as she can without drawing any attention to herself. She does not pass any other employees, and when she reaches the lobby the security desk is empty. She ignores the urge to break into a run as her heels click across the tiled floor, and then she is outside.
The night air is cool on her face and she takes a deep breath, trying to decide where she went wrong. She wonders what is wrong with her, why she is making so many mistakes. Why it matters. And then she thinks she understands.
She is scared. And unlike before, she has a reason to be.
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:
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 reaches for the volume control almost subconsciously, turning the knob while she stares at the screen. The onscreen Matthew sits down across from Welhsey and hands her a slim folder. "The files," he says, and Welhsey nods. She opens the folder, glancing at the contents, and as she watches the screen, she wishes that she could enhance that corner, to see what the folder contained. That will come later, she tells herself. The blonde skims through the papers and then looks up at Matthew.
"You're meeting her soon?" Welhsey queries flatly, and then she thinks she knows what the files are, suddenly realizing that she is sitting in the dead woman's chair, mirroring her actions.
"As soon as I can. She's pressing for a date," the man says. "The sooner, the better, for both of us."
"All four of us, really. Any progress with regard to Corin's group?" She does not react to the mention of her father, because she knew it would come eventually.
"They're still not letting us in," Matthew hisses, suddenly angry, and she wonders why. He sighs, and then he shrugs. "I don't know, Dara. I don't know what he wants, what he wants me to do, but he's always there. Always watching me with that damned knowing look. I don't know . . ."
Welhsey reaches across the desk to touch his shoulder. "We'll do it, Matthew. We'll do it together." And then the woman turns around, her hand filling the camera screen, and then it is black.
She leans back slightly, wondering who was the last to view this video. Welhsey? Maybe, but she doesn't think that she would really need to. And looking at the date the video was created, Welhsey only had a day to do so. She shudders slightly, replaying mental images of the woman's death, and she wonders how Matthew could have allowed himself to do it, could have destroyed her with the memories of even the previous day's conversation in mind. She knows, though, that somehow he did, and she wonders how much she has underestimated him. She folds her arms over her chest, sighing. Wondering what she is going to do now, what she is supposed to be doing. She thinks it was easier when she had a goal, a purpose, and when it was not her life that she was attempting to save.
Something moves in her peripheral vision, and she glances up at the computer screen. The video frame has been replaced by a black screen, a light cursor flashing in the corner. As she watches, it moves to allow letters to appear. She watches transfixed as it spells out a message.
Hello. I am here. Is this a test? I am watching you.
She hesitates, wondering who it is from. Who is watching her. Trying to decide whether to attempt to reply or to get the hell out of the office. She is reaching for the mouse when the screen flickers and returns to the original video program. She jumps and it takes a surprising effort for her to flick the power switch on the computer for a manual shutdown. She rises and crosses the room, not sure if the electronic doors are going to lock. Not sure if the message was a warning or a joke. If . . .
And then she is walking down the hall, up the stairs, moving as fast as she can without drawing any attention to herself. She does not pass any other employees, and when she reaches the lobby the security desk is empty. She ignores the urge to break into a run as her heels click across the tiled floor, and then she is outside.
The night air is cool on her face and she takes a deep breath, trying to decide where she went wrong. She wonders what is wrong with her, why she is making so many mistakes. Why it matters. And then she thinks she understands.
She is scared. And unlike before, she has a reason to be.