Thursday, 11:00am
Monroe hobbles, sans crutches (but with a cane), down the hallway in the basement. Every time she puts weight on her injured leg, she winces and mumbles an invective. To her left is MacKenna, walking just as slowly and leaning heavily on her cane. Incidentally, it's the same one Darien was supposed to have used on Monday. Both women are pale and sweating from their exertions.
Following closely behind them is Claire, with a mildly worried and yet encouraged look on her face.
"Slow down, Alex," she chastises lightly. "You're not going to run marathons anytime soon."
"Maybe not, but the least I can do is make it down this hall," is the sour reply. "I am so sick of sitting on my ass."
"Hear, hear," MacKenna murmurs in agreement. With each step she ends up putting more and more of her weight on the cane, until her knees start to noticeably wobble.
Claire lays her hand gently on the other woman's shoulder, which stops her in her tracks. "Let's take a moment to rest," the doctor advises.
"I can rest when I'm dead," she retorts, and sets off again towards the end of the hall. But just as she passes the bathroom doors, her knees give out on her: pitching her right into Darien's arms just as he emerges from the men's room. "Ahh, shit!" she grits out under her breath.
Darien self-consciously moves his hands, from a rather sensitive area above her waistline, to her shoulders as he helps her to straighten up. "Nice to see you, too."
Claire and Monroe smile a little as they observe the two blushing. Monroe's expression seems to say: 'Awwww, isn't that sweet.'
"Darien, what are you doing down here? I thought you went upstairs for awhile," Claire asks him as she comes to MacKenna's side and offers her arm for support. The shorter woman seems relieved at the opportunity to get some space between her and Darien.
He pulls his gaze from MacKenna's disconcerted face. "Couldn't raise you on the intercom, so I thought I'd make sure you guys're okay."
"That's sweet, Fawkes. Really," Monroe comments facetiously. "Is that the, only, reason you're down here?"
He grimaces a little in distaste at her allusion. "No. We're ordering delivery for lunch. Thai food okay?"
Monroe and Claire nod as they realize that they're hungry, and MacKenna looks a little bewildered.
"What's the matter? Never had Thai before?" he asks her.
She shakes her head. "That's the problem. I don't remember."
Claire smiles at her in reassurance. "If it makes you feel better, your medical records make no mention of food allergies."
"Hunh, as if They cared," MacKenna mutters drearily.
"So who's paying for lunch?" Monroe queries. She's noticed the sly grin on Darien's face. "Wait a minute, don't tell me that..."
He nods. "Yep. Big Man's springing for the grub. You should'a seen Hobbes and Eberts' faces; it was priceless. Wish I had a camera."
Claire pulls MacKenna aside a bit while the two agents banter about lunch. "Look, I know this is difficult for you,"
The shorter woman snorts at the understatement.
"But you need to have some patience," Claire finishes uninterrupted.
"That's what got me in this mess in the first place," MacKenna replies heatedly. She explains as she notes Claire's confused frown. "If I hadn't been so damned impatient to find some sort of a remedy for ADHD, I'd never've gotten involved with that experiment."
The doctor's frown deepens. "I'm not so sure about that." At the other woman's confounded scowl: "The files mention that you'd been selected for the first round of human testing before you'd even known about its existence. I have a feeling that you would've been involved in that experiment one way or another, whether you wanted to or not. So you really shouldn't dwell too much on your past decisions," she begins.
"Kinda hard for an obsessive-impulsive," MacKenna interrupts with quiet ferocity.
"But there's nothing you can do to change what's happened," is the rejoinder. "So let's just concentrate on the here-and-now, shall we?"
"Yeah, as in lunch," Darien cuts in lightheartedly. "Even better: the Boss's paying!"
As Claire breaks away from the group towards the elevator, he takes the cane from MacKenna and hooks her now free hand around his elbow. "Time for you to get some sunshine. How's about a picnic on the roof?"
She shrinks away from his touch, but for some reason, there's no reaction from the brief skin contact.
"What?" Darien asks.
The diminutive woman frowns in confusion. "No sparks."
He shrugs away her concern. "Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. We all need to unwind a bit, so let's just save the science experiment crap for later, huh?"
They set off for the elevator a few yards away. But again MacKenna hesitates.
"What now?" he utters impatiently.
"As much as I'd love going outside, Barnes might have people watching this place."
He shakes his head in disbelief. "God, you're almost as paranoid as Hobbes," he retorts.
"From you, Fawkes, that's a compliment," Monroe adds with a small grin.
Claire isn't amused at their repartee. "Amanda has a point. There's no guarantee that The Director bought the whole story. We'd all be safer if we just stayed in The Official's office for now."
"Kill-joy," Darien mutters as the elevator doors open.
Thursday 1:00pm
Everyone's gathered around the circular table at the front of The Official's office. Thai takeout cartons are strewn all over it: some are partially full, but most are completely cleaned out.
Monroe, Claire and Eberts have pushed their chairs back from the table. Hobbes continues to pick at what's left of his meal, while Darien and MacKenna are still shoveling away as if they haven't eaten in weeks. It took a few minutes for her to start eating, but when she noticed that the others were serving themselves from all of the containers, she'd let her guard down a bit and served herself a plateful.
"Kinda hard to trust any food after eight years of eating it laced with god knows what," she had explained around a mouthful of Spicy Beef and Broccoli.
Occasionally they inspect the other containers for remnants to clean out, and they show no signs of slowing down.
They seem unaware of the others watching them in almost disgusted fascination.
Darien passes MacKenna a container of noodles just as she hands him a bowl of fried rice; it's almost as if they're wordlessly anticipating the other's thoughts.
A few more minutes pass, with the silence broken only by the delighted chewing noises from the two experimentals as they finish up the last of the food and finally push their respective containers back.
MacKenna sighs in satisfaction and Darien noiselessly belches as he leans back in his chair and cracks open a fortune cookie.
Monroe mutters to herself, "That was... so gross."
The Official leans back in His chair as He picks contentedly at His teeth with a toothpick. His gaze sweeps over the assembled group of adults before settling back on MacKenna. His eyebrows twitch as He witnesses a mixture of emotions swirling across the woman's face: satiation, delight at eating non-institutionalized food for the first time in years, and the ever present uneasiness with her surroundings. He absently wonders how long it will be before she starts frowning again.
And, as if she's read his mind, the familiar scowl clouds over her face. Her gaze fixates on her fidgeting hands as she plunges deep into her troubled thoughts.
"Ya know, you might feel a little better if you smiled more," Hobbes quietly counsels her.
"Excuse me?" She looks at him as if he's sprouted another head.
At the same time, Claire quietly responds to Monroe's aversion with no indication of surprise at MacKenna and Darien's behavior. "I've noticed a sharp increase in Amanda's metabolic rate, which would explain her appetite."
"What about him?" Monroe indicates Darien with a jerk of her chin.
His head swings around. "You know, I haven't really eaten anything in a few days, unless you count that stuff I got through the IV," he responds a bit sourly.
Hobbes shrugs in mild discomfort under the severity of MacKenna's stare. "Well, it's been found that smiling when you're depressed actually makes you feel better..."
She breaks in with restrained ferocity before he can finish his thought. "Look, I've been poked, prodded, sliced, diced and julienned for the past eight freakin' years. What the hell do you expect me to be now: Little Miss Happy Mary Sunshine?"
Noticing the tension levels rising in the room, Eberts rises and begins to clear off the table in his usual unobtrusive manner.
She swings her head around to The Official, effectively breaking off her exchange with a thoroughly discomfited Hobbes. "What are you going to do with me?"
"What?" Hobbes asks as everyone's gaze pivots back over to the conflicted woman.
The Official's eyes narrow as He contemplates how to respond to her question. MacKenna's gaze fixes on Him, and it's as if there was no one else in the room. "Well?" she asks.
Something flits through His eyes... An emotion.
Uncertainty.
He opens His mouth to say something...
But Hobbes unwittingly interrupts. "We're not going to do anything with you; but I think it's pretty obvious what Barnes and his goons want," he looks around at the others before his gaze settles back on MacKenna. "Right?"
She inclines her head slightly. "Yeah, me. Dead."
Darien puts his two cents in. "But, you're worth more to them alive."
"Not anymore," is the pensive reply. "The final phase of the experiment was just about over. It's not like I was one of their agents they could just put out in the field or anything."
"Ah, yes," Claire agrees with her unease apparent in her voice and body language, and all eyes turn to her. "Amanda's files inferred as much. The last entry stated that she was being transferred for some sort of final phase in the research, and then... 'deactivation'."
"See?" MacKenna grits out between her teeth. The others notice that she's paled, her eyes glittering with hatred and despair. "So I ask you again, Sir, what are you going to do with me?" she addresses The Official.
Darien reaches over and lays a comforting hand on her arm. Luckily for the both of them, she's wearing Claire's long-sleeved cardigan. "We're not handing you over to them," he replies fiercely.
"You got that right," Hobbes agrees.
There's a moment of tense silence. MacKenna continues to stare steadily at The Official, and once again all eyes are on Him. He still looks uncertain, but He seems to have come to a resolution. "You're welcome to stay with us until you're fully recovered. We can place you in a safe house..."
"What!" Darien interrupts. "What do you mean, until she's 'fully recovered'? Why can't she stay here?"
"Because, my friend," Hobbes interjects, "she still has some pretty powerful people hunting for her."
"That's never stopped us before," is the heated retort.
"That was a special case," The Official contends in an unspoken reference to Dr. Gaither.
"Aren't they all?" Darien shoots back.
"Waitaminute. Excuse me, are you saying you want me to, join you, as a member of this Agency?" MacKenna interrupts.
"Well, yeah," Darien replies. "We've got the resources to help you..."
Eberts nervously clears his throat.
"And I'd say you've a lot to offer to help us out, too. What do you think?"
"I think that's what they told me to get me involved with the Adduco Project in the first place," she replies caustically. "You know, I used to be your above-average, abnormally happy woman with a husband... babies... a family. All that's gone now, and you expect me to say what? 'Yeah, sure, I'd love to join your happy little family here'? I had a family... they're all dead now... and for what it's worth, so am I." Her face is set like stone, but her eyes betray the intensity of her anguish and fury.
Darien tries to reassure her. "Look, you're not dead yet..."
"Yeah, well, I might as well be. You think Barnes's just gonna let me go without a fight? Dream on, man! He will hunt me down and take me out, and there's not a goddamn thing anyone can do about it."
Hobbes pipes up. "Well, I wouldn't say that, necessarily..."
She cuts him off before he can continue. "I would. And I do. Have you ever dealt with The Shop before?"
Monroe and The Official both look increasingly discomfited.
MacKenna notices. "They have," she indicates them with two jerks of her chin. "You get in these guy's way, and you just... disappear." She snaps her fingers. "And when they're done with you, it'll be like you never existed." Her expression changes as she has a realization. She looks at Hobbes. "You don't have any immediate family, do you?"
She looks at Claire, Monroe, and then Darien. "You don't; and you; not you either. There's no one outside this room to miss any of you when you're dead, are there? So essentially, the only family you do have is each other. And ya know what? That's more than I'll ever have. They took everyone I loved away from me, and they'll do it to you, too. And I can't let that happen again. I won't. I can't let anyone else die because of me; so the faster I'm outta here, the better off you all are."
"And what are you gonna do, run?" Darien asks.
She just looks at him, at a loss for words. Her eyes say, 'What else can I do?'
Eberts pipes in as he has an inspired thought. "What about, Chrysalis?"
The Official's head swings around to regard His assistant. "What about them?"
He looks up from the trash bag he's tying shut, and realizes that all eyes are now on him. He swallows nervously. "From what Darien reported of the conversation he overheard between Mr. Stark and Monsieur de Fehrn, they were expecting Miss MacKenna to escape from here at her first available opportunity, and then somehow find her way back to them."
Darien cocks his head to the side as he digests that notion, and MacKenna frowns in speculation. Monroe and Hobbes exchange knowing concerned glances, while Claire and The Official nod their understanding of where Eberts was heading with his thought.
"Continue, Eberts," The Official prompts.
"Well, when she's feeling better, why don't we just give them what they want?"
Darien scowls. "You mean, send her in as a double-agent?"
"Of course!" Hobbes verbally applauds. "They can take the heat from The Shop, while Amy here gets protection, resources, and whatever dirt on those scumbags she can dig up! Nice thinking, Eberts," he nods his praise to the other man, and the assistant blushes at the unexpected compliment.
"S'cuse me people, but we seem to be forgetting the last time we tried this," Darien breaks in. He looks around the table at blank faces. "Remember? I got caught downloading Stark's hard drive, and was almost de-"
"Yes, yes," The Official breaks in before His lanky employee divulges pertinent glandular information. "This time, will be different."
"And how can that be?" Darien challenges in a hostile tone.
"Because I don't work here," MacKenna interjects. Darien's head swings around to regard her darkly, and she continues. "You were already an agent here when that went down, right? I'm not allied with anyone; so if I show up at Stark's office with the disks and a plausible cover story, then they'd have little reason to think I'm lying. That about cover your thoughts on this?" she directs her last sentence to The Official, who nods in agreement.
"Pretty much."
"One problem though," she retorts. "I don't see a reason for me to be helping you."
"We saved your life, you ungrateful little..." Monroe snaps.
MacKenna fixes her with a fiery glare. "And I didn't ask you to," she interrupts quietly.
"So you would've rather we left you there to die."
"Y-yay-yah. It sure as hell beats the alternatives." The two women glower at each other for a few moments.
"Would you knock it off?" Darien interrupts testily. "Look, Amanda... Amy," he catches her gaze and stares intently into her eyes. "We're not in this for any reason other than to help you out..."
"Maybe you aren't," she interjects in an acid tone as she shoots an enigmatic glare at his Boss.
"Why is it so damned hard for you to trust us!" he finishes as he smacks the table with the palm of his hand. She jumps a little at the unexpected ferocity of his gesture, and he notes a glimmer of an old, yet familiar fear in the back of her eyes.
She swallows hard and nods at Hobbes. "Him, I trust." She looks back at Darien. "And, maybe you. But the others..." she shakes her head. Claire's jaw drops in disbelief at not being included in the trusted category, and MacKenna notices the doctor's reaction. "No offense intended, Doctor. You'll have to understand that for the past eight years, I've been dealing with research doctors constantly telling me that they have my best interests at heart; and then turning around and doing the exact opposite. I just can't afford to fully trust you; at least, not right now."
"I... understand," is the modest response.
"I don't," Hobbes pipes up. "Why'd you say you can trust me?"
MacKenna lifts one of her hands slowly from the table, echoing her action from the night she 'pushed' him to tell her the truth. "You can't lie to me, remember?" she prods gently. A tiny smile briefly flits across her face as the memory pops into focus in his mind. Another thought occurs to him, and he opens his mouth to ask the question...
But she beats him to the punch. "As far as I know: yes, it's permanent. As long as the commands are brief and specific, then there shouldn't be any adverse long-term effects."
"Well, that's just great. Wonderful. So now what?" Darien grumbles.
"I think this is the part where your boss says 'You're free to go', gives me the disks, and I walk out that door," MacKenna replies with guarded optimism.
"That's not such a good idea," Claire replies.
The other woman's face crumples into weary vigilance. "I knew it," she murmurs. "Here it comes."
The doctor shakes her head in frustration as she stands. "Stand up," she orders. MacKenna shoots her a questioning glance. "Stand up," she repeats, and the other woman carefully moves to comply.
She grasps the edge of the table with one hand and guides the chair back with the other as she rises. A moment passes, and suddenly her legs wobble violently before giving out from underneath her. She pitches back into her chair, and Darien half-rises in a reaction to help her.
Claire just stands there with a no-nonsense 'I told you so' look on her face.
MacKenna glares at her as she readjusts herself in the chair. "Your point?"
"You're not going anywhere in the shape you're in."
"So what do I do in the meantime? Sit pretty and play lab rat to your mad scientist?"
Darien unintentionally snorts in amusement, and Claire shoots him a quelling glare.
"No," is the curt reply. "You'll continue your rehabilitative exercises with Agent Monroe until I'm satisfied that you can handle being on your own out there."
MacKenna's face acquires a wry aspect to it. "You're, actually concerned about my well-being, aren't you?"
"Yes," is the doctor's exasperated reply.
MacKenna taps Darien lightly on his elbow. "You know, she's kinda cute when she's angry, isn't she?"
He grins widely as Claire tilts her head in a stern effort to mask her irritation at the shorter woman's teasing.
Thursday 4:30pm
The door to Lab 101 slides open to reveal Monroe and MacKenna both leaning heavily on canes in the hall. The younger woman waves for the agent to precede her into the Lab, and they carefully limp over to the two chairs waiting beside the giant fish tank in the middle of the left side of the lab. Both of their faces are beaded with sweat.
Darien's sitting in the exam chair, allowing Claire to take yet another blood sample for testing. They both look up when the door opens, and he grins a greeting while she looks back down to finish the task at hand. The doctor pulls the needle out, places a cotton ball on the puncture site, and hands him a Band Aid before placing the vial of blood in a small rack on a rolling tray table beside her.
She calls out over her shoulder to the women on the other side of the lab; "I'll be with you in a second."
Monroe slowly eases down into her chair. She grimaces as she begins massaging the tense and sore muscles around the bandage on her leg. "And the Invalid 500 ends in a photo-finish. Y'know, I think I might've popped a stitch with that last lap," she comments in an aside to MacKenna.
The auburn-haired woman plops down in her chair and gingerly tests her healing shoulder by rolling it around in the socket. "Hey, I wanted to take a break, but you insisted," she returns.
"Oh, c'mon,"
"I'm not the one with a hole in my leg,"
"No, just one in your arm and a couple extra in your head,"
"Oh, you bitch..." MacKenna's eyes narrow a little in anger; that last light-hearted gibe hit a little too close to home.
"Whoa, ladies," Darien interrupts the bantering before it gets too serious. "Don't make me separate you," he finishes as he strides over to their side of the room.
"She started it," Monroe asserts.
Abruptly, MacKenna's face closes off like a protective wall's dropped down over her vulnerable emotions.
"Well, somebody sure is moody today," Monroe comments under her breath.
Darien notices the sudden shift in MacKenna's mood and steps over to her side. He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter?"
She shakes her head and shrugs his hand off. "Nothing."
He takes a step back to give her a little space. "No, it's something. What?"
She grimaces, and then carefully rises from her chair to pace part-ways across the room. "Just when I start to feel like a normal human being, reality boots me upside the head." She raises haunted eyes to regard the others.
Monroe finishes massaging her leg, and rearranges herself to a more comfortable position in her chair. "Everything's come back?"
"Unfortunately, yeah," she sighs deeply, and rubs at the back of her neck in an unconscious effort to ease tense muscles. "I always had a touch of paranoia, you know, before,"
Claire steps into view from the other half of the lab room with the small rack of vials in her hands. She looks concerned with the other woman's state of mind.
MacKenna continues, uninterrupted. "But now, I can't stop wondering: why me? Why'd they have to pick me? Why'd I survive, and so many others didn't? And why the hell did I have to ask so many Goddamned questions in the first place? I just had to be smart, didn't I? Too smart for my own good." She drops her head down behind her hair in an effort to hide the sudden rush of tears she's fighting to suppress.
Darien starts towards the distressed woman, but hesitates and stops as he sees Claire set down the vial rack and move towards her. The doctor places a soothing hand on the shorter woman's uninjured shoulder before gently hugging her. MacKenna doesn't return the loose embrace, but just leans slightly into the taller woman as she fights down the sobs that threaten to overtake her.
Disconcerted and not knowing how to handle it, Darien rapidly strides across the room and out the lab door without another word.
Monroe and Claire notice his odd reaction, and exchange troubled glances as the door slides shut behind him.