It was late in the evening when Sierra Bentley's shift came to its close. The doctor had spent another day in the observation tower, where the most advanced medical facilities were kept in operation. During the working hours, her work called for her reactions to be at their swiftest and for her mind to be at its sharpest. However, when shutting down the medical station, little concentration was required on her part. Her hands busied themselves, turning off machinery and logging out of computer programs. It was at this point in her shift that she permitted her thoughts to wander into less technical territory.
Currently that territory involved Lexin Grey and his present state of mind. When Sierra had first met him, his personality could have been compared to that of clockwork. He kept himself under the strictest of controls, military to his bone. No unidentified emotion surfaced; no judgment was questioned. However since his encounter with Mutant 27, the slightest edge of his once smooth and steady poise had frayed. He'd been affected. By what exactly Sierra wasn't at liberty to state, but the events of the past week were slowly telling their secrets.
It had been the week of the funerals, one for each of the twelve men and women who had been killed the week before. Lexin had attended out of formality, of course. But with each funeral, his body grew slightly more haggard, and his mind became more and more occupied.
Sierra doubted that anyone else had taken notice, but she highly doubted that anyone else had been given the opportunities to analyze Lexin as she had. Before 27 was acquired, they had found in each other a physical match. Their involvement was nothing profound, but it served as a sexual outlet as well as the perfect arena in which to study the commander exclusively.
In the beginning few observations were worth a second thought. Within the first few months, he successfully preserved his façade, birthing not even a ripple on the surface. The mystery only enticed her interest further. She watched him, as if he were underneath a microscope lens, waiting for the slightest shard of humanity to slip into view.
The shard had revealed itself less than a week ago in the observation room. She had seen him staring at Mutant 27, and she had seen his satisfied smile. Since then, with all the funerals amassing, one after another, he had needed something to divert his attention. He had found that distraction in Sierra. There was a direct correlation, which was impossible to disregard. The more funerals he attended, the more he called upon Sierra.
Beneath her guards were loudly calling to one another, and it shirked her from her daze. She looked down out of the large window of the tower. Apparently the other scientists were ending their shifts as well. The mutant subjects were lined up together, in rows of four-by-four. As they marched out of the complex, she recognized one amongst the others. Walking forward in perfect sync, 27 caught her eye. Sierra stood observing his controlled movements until he left her range of vision. With nothing more to occupy her, she returned to closing up her station and locked up for the evening.
That same night she knocked on Lexin Grey's office door.
"Enter," he instructed.
When Sierra made her entrance, Lexin was methodically sorting through a pile of documents on his desk. Once he saw her, he returned to filing them in a drawer behind him. "Is your shift finished?" he asked.
"It is."
He turned his face ever so slightly. "I take it you'll be leaving for the night."
"Yes, I was planning on it."
A pause loomed between them. "Is there a purpose for your visit?"
"I was hoping," Sierra said. "That you might walk me to my car."
(x)
In actuality, they took separate cars to his apartment. For Sierra, this was a victory. In every other instance, they had spent the night at her place. Previously, Lexin never invited her, and true to form, Sierra never asked. Now, as they walked up the sidewalk to his apartment, all she had to do was follow him inside.
The moment they entered into his building, the art of direct analysis began. The apartment building was standard, nothing too aristocratic, but it was held together with enough security to ensure that anyone who did not belong would be kept out. To put it bluntly, it told her nothing she hadn't already gleaned from his appearance.
Ah, but now came his personal habitat. He unlocked the apartment and held the door open. In the dim lighting of one solitary lamp, Sierra hadn't much of a chance to look around. However, that soon became inconsequential. Lexin's hands were soon around her torso, pulling her into a heated embrace. Enjoying his advances, she returned his gestures just as passionately. But the moment Lexin closed his eyes, hers opened. He was guiding her slowly into another section of his apartment.
The bedroom Sierra Bentley found herself in was as non-descript as everything else that surrounded Lexin Grey. The room's décor could have been cookie-cut from any apartment building in the greater D.C. area. It had the beige carpet, taupe painted walls, dime a dozen Monet-look-alikes on the walls, and dark mahogany dressers. Sierra wouldn't have been surprised if she had opened up the drawers to find a matchbook and a Bible.
Even the bed – which they were falling upon now – was as basic as they come, white sheets, white mattress, with a dark wood backboard.
Lexin's hands moved down along her waist and against her hips.
Sierra stopped to focus. But now came the most telling part of the night. She glanced over his shoulder as he kissed her neck.
It was at this point – and this point only – that Lexin Grey's defenses failed to serve him.
(x)
The next morning proceeded just as any other. Sierra awoke and dressed for work while Lexin left to check his mail over his morning coffee. Sitting at his kitchen table, she drank a cup of coffee quietly, but inside her mind was rapidly operating, recording every instance from the night before.
After their intercourse, Lexin had fallen asleep, exhausted from the events the week beheld. But he hadn't slept well. He stirred during the night, unable to quiet his body or, as Sierra suspected, his mind. The doctor took another sip of her coffee. It would be interesting to see how long it took him to disclose the thoughts that were keeping him from sleeping.
Dressed in full military uniform, Lexin Grey stood leaning against the spotless countertops. They probably hadn't been used since he moved into the apartment, aside from the occasional cup of coffee. As Sierra's eyes took in the cold and impersonal apartment, she noticed one section of the living room that gave way to character. In a small corner by the empty fireplace and mantle, Lexin's desk sat in a mess of office supplies, documents, mail, and… She squinted ever so slightly. A photograph.
It surprised Sierra Bentley to find that in their rush to the bedroom she had missed such a window of opportunity. Still if she were to re-enter the bedroom slowly, she would have a chance to take a closer look. She waited a few more minutes until she finished her cup of coffee and then slowly rose from her chair.
On her way to the bedroom, she stopped by his desk, pretending to be harmlessly interested in the picture. Amidst the clutter, a photograph of a fundamentally pretty young girl smiled upward at Sierra. From across the room, Lexin noticed her pause and walked over to where she stood.
Once he was beside her, Sierra asked. "Who's the girl?"
Lexin's hand reached out and turned the photograph facedown.
"No one," he said. From there, he disappeared back to the bedroom, most likely to gather his belongings before he left for the complex.
He spoke no more about the picture, and Sierra asked no further questions. She didn't need to. His reaction told her everything she had needed to know.
