Chapter 4: The Confrontation
Dot
The apartment was almost stifling compared to the icy storm, but she couldn't stop shivering. Bob grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her as he led her to the couch, vigorously rubbing the circulation back into her arms. She sat woodenly, staring at him, waiting. He wasn't in his usual Guardian attire, instead dressed down in a dark gray track suit and running shoes. He was soaked through and his cheeks were burned from the wind, but none of it seemed to bother him. And yet, as his eyes came back to hers, he seemed wary under the intensity of her gaze. He broke away and looked at his arm.
"Glitch, scanner." The keytool ran a test and Bob brought in extra towels from the bathroom for her legs. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently and placed the towels on her lap.
She scoffed. "Am I hurt? That's the understatement of the hour."
He frowned. Glitch beeped, and Bob read the results. He paused and read them again. He looked at her and hesitated.
"Don't worry, I'm not that drunk," she said sarcastically. "I'm not gonna throw myself at you again."
His eyes widened, the hostility catching him off guard. Slowly, he knelt before her, watching her carefully. It took him a nano before he managed, "Dot, what's going on?"
The innocence in his tone irritated her. It was so genuine, she almost believed him. Deep down, she wanted to. But as she gripped the tablet tight to her chest, she couldn't. She expected him to lie. And this time she was ready for it. "What happened to me after the explosion?"
Bob stilled. "What?"
"After the Twin City, something happened, with you." His jaw tensed and she swallowed hard around the words. "What was it?"
His eyes moved back and forth between hers, searching for something. She waited, refusing to give him anything else. He sighed. "I'm going to need a little more than that, Dot." He sat back on the floor, pushing the hood back and running a hand through his damp silver strands. "A lot of things happened after the accident," he said quietly.
"Like?"
Bob watched her. "The media."
There was an edge to his voice that made her pulse quicken. She remembered the reporters, remembered being the center of attention. They were like sharks, and she and Enzo fresh energy in the water. She hated all of them - except for one. The memory brought her up short, a twinge of anxiety rushing through her.
"You remember him." Bob's face was unreadable.
"I remember someone, barely," Dot allowed. "What does that matter?"
"I think you know."
He tried to be kind, yet the words still made her shiver. The mystery sprite's face hovered just out of reach. Everything about him was in shadows, and a knot tightened in her stomach. "I don't. So why don't you tell me?"
Glitch beeped. Bob looked at his companion, read something on the screen and sighed again. He touched the screen and stood up. Glitch whirred and disconnected, floating over to a wall mount and settling in. The faceplate blinked twice and went dark.
"Do you want to change into dry clothes?"
Dot looked up at him. "I want an answer."
He shook his head. "Let me rephrase that. Do you want to change into dry clothes first, or catch pneumonia and I'll fill you in at the hospital?"
She bristled at his mocking tone, meant to lighten the mood and completely missing the mark. "I'm fine," she argued, voice firm for one solid nano before her teeth chattered with a violent shiver.
"Yeah, I can see that." He went in the closet and pulled out an old Academy jumpsuit, placing it next to her. "It's big, but it's warm. You can throw your stuff in the dryer." He turned and walked into the kitchen. "I'll make some Java if you want to grab a quick shower-"
"I want you to stop pretending like you care and answer the question."
It was quiet for a moment. Slowly, he stepped back into her view. "Pretending I care?" he parroted back at her. "Seriously Dot, I don't know what happened to you tonight or where this free-floating hostility came from, but I don't appreciate you accusing me of," he gestured in frustration, "of whatever you think I did."
She stood up and went toe to toe with him. "I know you're keeping something from me, and I want the truth. No more lies," she demanded.
His eyes darkened. "When did I lie to you, Dot?"
She opened her mouth and the words stuck. She hadn't caught him in a lie, yet. She only had the words of a rambling and likely drunk teenager, the image of a sleeping boy, and her own perceptions. Which were never wrong. Right?
Bob shook his head when she didn't answer him. "Get a shower. When you sober up, we'll talk."
Dot felt her cheeks flush, embarrassment and anger rising in her throat at his condescending tone. "I'm not drunk!"
"Whatever you need to tell yourself." He turned and walked into the kitchen, not bothering to wait for a response.
Dot clutched the tablet, still buried with her inside the blankets. She wasn't crazy. She just wanted him to be honest, and he wasn't taking her seriously. It infuriated her. And who was he to get the last word? There was a small clattering noise as Bob prepped the Java, and she moved in his direction - then paused. Her gaze crossed over his bedroom door, partially open and fading into the darkness beyond. The image of Bob in her bed flitted across her mind and she tensed. She wanted an explanation, but without her memories, she couldn't confirm if he told her the whole truth. Maybe being there could trigger something.
She took a breath and pressed on the door. Light spilled across the floor from the living room, and she could just make out a bed and a dresser. She tapped the light and the room illuminated before her. It was simple and modern, whites and cream colors culminating in a relatively clean space. His bed was made, the only pop of color a deep blue comforter and an ice blue pillowcase. A bedside lamp, an alarm clock, and another charging station for Glitch completed the room's minimal accessories. There were no pictures, no nick-knacks, not even a poster to personalize the room. It was such a contrast to the expressive room she once had, so long ago.
She leaned against the doorframe and replayed the video in her mind. Her cheeks burned. Did he ever think about it, like she was now? She closed her eyes, trying to remember anything about that night, trying to make sense of it all, to prepare herself for the questions to come. Only darkness appeared.
And danger lurked there.
Her breath caught and her eyes flew open. Blood thundered past her ears as she told herself she was safe, there were no monsters here. But the doubt remained.
'A lot of things happened after the accident...'
His tone, the look in his eyes, his carefully chosen words. What if they weren't just ways to avoid her? What if they were warnings? Go back. Danger ahead. Point of no return.
She looked at her reflection in the tablet's blank screen. Too late. She needed to know, needed him to explain. He said she was his best friend. He hadn't let her down yet. Maybe that earned him the benefit of the doubt. Her own words echoed back her from the diary, 'I was saved', and the shadow in her memory knocked at her consciousness, Bob's voice echoing, 'You remember him.'
Maybe Bob wasn't the enemy in this narrative. Then, why did he keep it from her? He must have known, all this time. She shivered again, and realized she needed to change before anything could get solved. Reluctantly, she picked up the track suit from the couch.
She closed the bedroom door and dropped the blanket to the floor. Despite the warmth of the room, she still trembled inside her sodden clothes, her stiff fingers fighting the simple actions of undressing. She glanced over to the bathroom, a hot shower tempting. But the alcohol was working through her system, and she could feel the tiredness seeping into her bones. A hot shower would only make it worse. She quickly donned the baggy clothes.
They were dry, and long. But they were warm. She rolled the pants and sleeves as best she could. Carefully, she tucked the tablet into the oversized pocket at her waist, then balled up her wet clothes and put them into the tumble dryer in the hall. The soft thump thump of the dryer, surrounded by the smell of fresh Java wafting through the air, was oddly soothing. Quietly she approached the kitchen.
He still wore his workout clothes. She'd always found it odd the way he liked running in bad weather, or on mornings when it was cold enough to leave frost on the buildings. He said it was cleansing for the soul; she said he was a glutton for self-inflicted pain. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he sipped from a steaming cup of Java, a deep frown on his face.
What are thinking about, Bob?
As if hearing her, he glanced up. Their eyes locked for a long nano before he asked, "Feeling better?"
She shook her head and gestured to the Java machine. "May I?"
He turned and pulled down a clean mug from the cabinet, offering it to her in silence. She mumbled a thank you and fixed herself a cup, inhaling the strong brew and sighing as the fog in her head cleared. Her fingers burned around the cup, a welcomed pain, and she took a slow sip. The rush of heat through her chest made her shiver with delight. The liquid was scalding, but it hurt so good.
Maybe he wasn't the only one who enjoyed self-punishment.
She sighed and blew the steam from her cup. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come at you like that. I'm just - I got into trouble, right?" She turned to face him. "And you helped me. But whatever it was, I can't remember the details. You can." He didn't answer her, but he didn't deny her either. "I need to know, Bob."
"Do you?"
Lightning flashed outside, nearly blinding her with the burst. The walls shook as the thunder rumbled overhead. She watched the rain spray up as the winds turned violent. Warning. Turn back. But she wouldn't. Not now. "Yes."
"Why?"
She looked back at him in surprise, and a touch of anger. "Because something was taken from me, and I want it back." He turned away, but not before she caught a flinch. Danger. "Why wouldn't I want to know?"
"Because it won't change anything."
She nearly flinched herself, a part of her still clinging to the hope that he cared - and afraid to learn otherwise. She moved to the table and pulled out a chair. "Maybe it won't," she said as she sat down, one hand wrapped around her mug and the other holding the tablet in her pocket, "or maybe everything changes. But why don't you let me decide that? It is my life, after all." She gestured to the chair across from her, but he shook his head. Silence settled between them, and Dot didn't know what to say next.
"Do you remember having this conversation already?" he asked.
She frowned. "What conversation?"
"The one the morning after."
She tensed. Was he going to come right out and say it? "I don't know what you're talking about." His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, and she felt herself blush under his penetrating gaze. Could he see right through her?
Whatever he was seeking, he didn't seem to find. "Where did this come from then? You just remembered something out of the blue?"
She chewed on her lip, considering. "I found something from that night, and I remember something, barely."
"What did you find?" She didn't answer him. The silence stretched long enough that Bob let it drop. "All right. Where do you want me to begin?"
Where indeed? "Earlier, you asked if I remembered him. Who is him?"
Tension lines appeared around his eyes just before he looked down into his cup. "You'd made a friend with one of the reporters from the SuperComputer, or at least I think that's what happened. I don't know how it started. But he wasn't friendly when I found you."
'...I was in trouble…' "Meaning?"
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "It still hasn't gotten any easier to say this…"
"I'm not made of glass, Bob." She ignored the anticipation gnawing at her gut.
He sighed. "He drugged you."
Whatever she was expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "With what?" she asked carefully.
"ActiveX."
Her chest tightened; the air suddenly hard to breath. She knew about designer drugs, heard too many crazy stories from counterparts in her business dealings. She'd even been offered some on the down-low from less reputable acquaintances trying to get established. But everything had its dark side, and she'd seen too many news vids about sprites caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was why she was so vigilant with Enzo.
She just never thought she'd be the one who got caught. "Did...?" The words stuck. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Did he-?"
"No. You were smart. You got away."
She nodded once; eyes focused on a spot on the table. "I guess you found me after that?"
"Yes, before things got worse, and I brought you back to your apartment."
Her heart started to thud in her ears. "You brought me here, you mean."
Bob paused. "Yeah, that's right."
"And then what happened?"
"We talked. You thought he might come back, so I stayed, and you went to bed," he said quietly.
Alone, Bob? Dot looked at him suddenly, a coldness gripping her heart at the implications. He wouldn't have… "And you knew, right? You knew I wasn't… okay?"
"Well, yeah, you'd had a rough night. It was pretty obvious you weren't okay."
She shook her head, her tone sharp. "I mean, you knew I was drugged. When you stayed here?" She caught a flash of guilt.
"No. I didn't know until the next morning, when you got sick. Glitch scanned you, and that's when we realized just how bad it could have been. You didn't remember anything; the attack or me. You threatened me with your baseball bat, actually. Totally didn't see that one coming."
She'd expected relief but only felt confusion instead. "You didn't know?"
"No," he said slowly, "I didn't."
"I didn't act odd to you?"
He gave her a strange look. "Dot, I didn't really know you. We'd met, like, once before. I wouldn't have known what was odd. You seemed to react the same way I'd expect from any other-" he cut off, an uncomfortable look on his face.
"Victim?" she offered.
He looked down at his Java and tossed the rest down the sink. "Yeah," he said softly as he turned and started washing his cup.
She watched him and tried to put the last pieces together. He seemed so genuine, the tale told so naturally, nothing appearing out of place. Except... "Was that all?"
He paused, then continued cleaning around the sink. "What do you mean?"
"Did anything else happen that night?" Her heart pounded in her ears, and she gripped the tablet.
He grabbed a towel to dry his hands. "Nothing worth remembering," he said over his shoulder.
She covered her mouth and closed her eyes to stop the nausea. Either he was lying… or he was telling the truth. And she didn't know which was worse.
"I know that aside from the amnesia and the illness, the drug didn't cause any lasting effects," he said as he went back to cleaning around the kitchen. "But I know that doesn't make this any easier. And for what's it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just… I thought you didn't need the grief. You'd been through enough."
Dot barely heard him. He droned on, his tone so innocent and casual and perfectly normal for lying through his teeth. And why not? He'd almost gotten away with it. Almost.
She pulled out the tablet, set it on the table and pressed play.