Although Vincent's interest in Eugene was waning (or at least, he tried to tell himself that), to much of the rest of the staff Jerome Eugene Morrow was becoming an increasingly interesting subject. Gossip was rampant. Few of them had actually talked to Eugene except in passing in the halls ("Excuse me, sir." "No, please, excuse me.") but everyone had an opinion of some sort.

Janine, the lunch lady, said he had nice manners but terrible eating habits. He only came to the office cafeteria about once or twice a week. Perhaps he did bring his own lunch from home, but she doubted it could be all that nutritional and what was wrong with the cafeteria food anyway? He always thanked her very nicely when he did get food from the cafeteria, and he seemed to genuinely look forward to eating it—though of course, she said, a guy with a smile like that, charming and smooth as butter, could quite possibly be faking it. She'd known the type in her day.

Miguel said that he'd looked Jerome Eugene Morrow up and get this, he had been an Olympic class swimmer. He'd won a gold medal just three years back, and there were pictures of him vaunting it at award ceremonies. You could still find videos of his swimming online and it was incredible. If it weren't for the man now being a paraplegic and all, Miguel would ask him for workout tips.

Vincent pointed out that hey, Miguel could still ask for tips. It wasn't like Eugene would have forgotten how to work out in the interim. Miguel blushed and muttered something about Morrow probably getting questions like that all the time and how it would just be a bother. Someone had a mancrush.

Tina said that of course Morrow was quite famous and very fit and very good looking (she said this with a straight face, though if you teased her about it she would turn red pretty quickly) but what really mattered was that he was a decent physicist. He would probably be sent up soon enough if it weren't for his disability, she said. Which perhaps was an advantage—he could become a steady worker on some of the more complicated programs without needing to leave for missions in outer space. Someone inevitably would point out at this point that Tina was getting pretty invested in Gattaca's space program lately, wasn't she? Was she planning on going up soon? Like Vincent?

(Generally being compared to Vincent in this regard was a great offense.)

Caesar pretended he was over the subject. He said that the only thing that really mattered was that Morrow was more or less neat and didn't create too much work for the janitors. But whenever new gossip about Eugene surfaced he listened ever more carefully than Vincent himself.

Underneath all the gossip, there was an undercurrent of the attitude that Vincent had found in himself when he first learned Eugene was a paraplegic: This man was not like the others. He was imperfect. He was like them, even if he was handsome and a genius physicist and used to be an Olympic swimmer and had the perfect genetic code. He was polite if a bit distant (understandable, they all insisted, and probably a result of shyness rather than valid snobbery) and probably a janitor at heart, despite his polished appearance.

Having actually talked to Eugene, Vincent found it all a little ridiculous. Not that Eugene was a jerk. He was moody, but Vincent generally got the sense that he was an okay guy. But he was a valid, that much was certain. Vincent had seen his entire genetic profile (illegally, but why go into that?) and had spoken to him, and Eugene was valid through and through. The way he generally expected Vincent to be super polite and helpful the first couple times they met—and was still so touchy even when Vincent was, in fact, being super polite and helpful—and of course the way he casually shirked his work when he was a physicist at Gattaca, making three times as much as any of the janitors, and ought to have been grateful. Valid. Very valid.

Still, Vincent supposed Eugene was an okay guy, and although he didn't contribute much to the gossip (he only had a few conversations to relate, after all) he did keep an ear to the ground. So when the news came in that Eugene had gone on a drunken rampage he heard about it right away.

"He was yelling at the top of his lungs," Miguel said. "I could hear him even from where I was. Estaba que ladra. Then security came and carted him off to Lamar. I hear he gave them a couple good punches first, though." He mimed a couple punches himself, making Vincent take a step back.

"Doesn't sound much like him," Vincent said. Sure, he hadn't been a model of manners the first couple times he and Vincent had spoken, but generally he was under control, especially with his co-workers. Getting drunk at work? Punching out security guards? Vincent shook his head. "You sure about that?"

Miguel said, "Well you know, he's a man. Sooner or later a man has to let loose a little, you know? I wish I'd been in the room to see it."

Tina said, "Sure. All real men throw temper tantrums at work." She rolled her eyes at Miguel. "At least he didn't throw up on the floor. I had to clean that area today, and it was enough of a mess."

"Let loose, huh?" Vincent said. He remembered the distant look in Eugene's eyes as he stared out at the launches, wistful and yet so different from Vincent's own. And the way he'd stared at the ground while thanking Vincent for showing him around, and the awkward pauses in his speech where you could see him censoring himself or his attention drifting.

("I'm not exactly dream material.")

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the moment. "That sounds even less like him."

"What, you two best friends now?" Miguel asked with a laugh. "Oh yeah, I forgot. He watched a launch with you. Clearly the two of you share a deep, unbreakable bond—"

"Shut up," Vincent said, punching Miguel's shoulder.

And it was back to work, except for once Vincent was pondering something other than the launch schedule or the time he would have to allow before applying for a position as a physicist here again. Jerome Eugene Morrow was none of his business. But why was he acting so out of character? Not that Vincent had ever believed he had the man pegged, but he had thought he at least had figured out the basics, which did not involve drunken screaming matches. Eugene had dignity. He made snide remarks and talked about philosophy and dreams and charmed lunch ladies and was offended but hid it when Director Josef acted patronizing. Dignity. It was in the lines of his body, always tight and controlled whether he sat up straight or slouched, in his face whether he smiled a fake smile or lifted a sardonic eyebrow. He didn't lose control. It wasn't…

Vincent took a deep breath. When had he gotten so invested in Eugene anyway? Maybe he'd get himself fired and Gattaca would be looking for a new physicist, a job opening Vincent could take advantage of to at least apply, even if he would never have a chance. There was no reason for Vincent to be worried.

Still, as he washed the windows he wondered just what could have happened to make Jerome Eugene Morrow "let himself go."

/…/…/

Actions had consequences, which weren't always the ones you wanted.

Eugene had hoped the consequence of his fit of misbehavior at work would be the director seeing the light—Eugene had excellent genes but at the end of the day that didn't make him any less worthless—and showing him the door. An end to working at Gattaca, where he should never have been hired in the first place. An end to the effort towards being the man his parents and society always told him he could be even though he knew in the inside that all he was really good for was swimming.

The consequence he ended up facing was the exact opposite.

Director Josef did call him into his office to have a talk halfway through the work day, but his face on Eugene's arrival was open and friendly, sympathetic. He didn't even get up from his desk, and certainly didn't seem to be angry. "Have a seat, Jerome," he said. When Eugene awkwardly paused near the door, he said, "Sorry. Make yourself at home. I want to speak with you."

"Yes sir," Eugene said, and he wheeled himself further in, directly in front of Josef's desk. "What about?" he said, meeting the Josef's eyes as guilelessly as he could.

He had no reason to start bowing and scraping to keep his job. He didn't even want his job. Somehow he ended up acting subservient anyways. Survival instinct kicking in just when he needed it least.

"I heard you caused a commotion the other day," Josef said.

Eugene smiled. "A small one. I apologize."

Josef sighed. "Look, Jerome. I can tell you're nervous. Don't worry. I'm not going to fire you."

What? "You're not?"

"Of course not," Josef said. "Kick out a bright young physicist over a small matter like this? Don't be ridiculous." He waved a hand dismissively. "But your actions still were over the line, and that's what we're here to discuss."

"I understand," Eugene said. "Sir."

"I'd like you to be honest with me," Josef said.

Eugene nodded. "Of course."

"Lamar says your actions were partially because you were sick with a fever," Josef said. "Be this as it may, security reports that you smelled of alcohol. Were you or were you not drinking on company grounds during working hours?"

With a mental apology to Lamar Eugene said, "I was."

He tried to look contrite, but all he could feel at Josef's disappointed expression was triumph. Too bad, Director. Turns out your latest golden boy isn't so perfect after all.

Josef said, "It goes against company policy, and you must know that."

"I know."

Josef winced again. "And your behavior under the influence was not exactly subtle. You disrupted the working day and verbally abused your coworkers."

Eugene rolled his eyes. Gattaca was far too uptight and the director far too dramatic. Then he noticed Josef's eyes on him and immediately rearranged his expression. "I know. It was unacceptable and I am so, so sorry."

Josef said, "I know you regret what you did, Jerome, but you need to explain to me why."

Eugene took a deep breath.

The thing was, the truth was exactly the kind of story that would sway Josef. It had been the anniversary of the accident and he'd just been overcome and hadn't been able to bring himself to ask for a day off because he was too out of it. Josef would like that story. He'd be sympathetic. Of course the anniversary of such a traumatic event would have some sort of effect, and while it was regrettable, it was still understandable. Losing feeling and control of half your body was not a thing you got over easily. He'd be let off, and Josef would give himself a pat on the back for being so kind to a poor man down on his luck.

The truth would work here better than any lie, and he knew it.

He let the breath out again. "I don't know what came over me, sir."

"It has to have been something," Josef said. "Your work and behavior have been admirable up until this point. I'm sure you had a reason."

"Stress, maybe?" Eugene offered with a smile.

Josef gave him a look.

"I haven't held a job in years," Eugene said. "My family's rich, so I technically don't need to. I was busy with college at first, and then swimming, and then…" He shrugged. "It took a while to get through the physical therapy needed after my injuries, so…"

"It must have been hard," Josef said.

Eugene nodded. "Mostly, it's hard to get back into the swing of things. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing all the time, and I worry I'll make mistakes. It just gets to me. I apologize for flying off the handle the other day, though. Stress is no excuse…"

And it really wasn't. Eugene was sure Josef was going to probe deeper. But instead Josef smiled consolingly and said, "Jerome, you're one of our best even if you just started here. Your work is pristine, your IQ off the charts. The work here can indeed be stressful, but relax. No one's going to fire you, no one thinks you've been doing badly. You've been doing just fine."

"I got drunk and yelled at my co-workers," Eugene said. "Not exactly stellar behavior." He smiled self deprecatingly. "I am so sorry. I swear I can do better."

"You've been under stress," Josef said. Apparently he had decided Eugene's subpar excuse was excellent and was going to stick to it like glue. "It was a bad day for you, but I know you can do better. It's in your blood."

If Eugene always lived up to his potential, he would have a gold medal in his cabinet instead of the silver. He wouldn't have wasted the last year drinking and smoking and trying to work his courage up for a second attempt. He wouldn't have walked in front of a car in the first place. But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he nodded and said, "I know. I will do better. I am so sorry."

Josef cut him off before he could apologize again. "No need to apologize. Just don't let it happen again. Now, I don't want to keep you from your work any longer. Perhaps we can talk again soon, about more pleasant subjects."

Eugene smiled. He hoped not. "Perhaps."

As he wheeled down the hall back to the working area he cursed the director with all the curses he could remember. All he had wanted was to be fired. With his behavior, would that have been so hard? Or at the very least he could have demoted Eugene or suspended him, reprimanded him or given him a pay cut, something to acknowledge that Eugene was not, perhaps, the ideal employee he'd thought he had hired.

But no. Instead, the expectations had been raised. "I know you can do better," Eugene muttered to himself. Do better. Do better. "Fuck." He paused in the hallway, pressing a hand hard against his forehead.

Do better.

"Jerome Morrow?"

Immediately he sat bolt upright, hand replaced in his lap as if he'd never been trying to squeeze his own brain into shape. "Yes, that's me," he said, swiveling his head to see who had come up behind him. "And you are…?"

It was a woman. A beautiful woman, though that wasn't saying much—what responsible parents wouldn't ask the geneticist for their daughter to be gorgeous? Blond hair carefully cinched into a bun that sat near the top of her scalp, not a strand out of place, and an expression so bland it made Jerome want to wince away already.

He knew her. Her working desk wasn't far from his, and he'd definitely seen her around. He might even have spoken to her a few times. But she wasn't very outgoing, and he hadn't been spending his time at Gattaca making friends, and for the life of him he couldn't remember her name.

"Irene Cassini," the woman said. "You ran over me yesterday."

Now Eugene did wince. "Sorry," he said. "Really, I wasn't myself. I swear I'm usually more polite than that." He was doing so much apologizing today. One consequence he definitely did not enjoy.

Irene did not look impressed. "So I've noticed." She leaned against the wall next to Eugene. "Are you well?"

"Who, me? Never better," Eugene said, waving a hand. "I am terribly sorry though. Please, you have to forgive me."

Irene actually smiled slightly at that. It was just a slight quirk of her lips, gone in an instant. She didn't say she forgave him though. "Well then, if you're sure." She pushed off the wall and walked ahead of Eugene towards their work.

Eugene called after her, "Really, I'm sorry!" She didn't respond.

Well, at least someone could tell he was messed up. Though for some reason, disapproval wasn't as satisfying coming from Irene Cassini as it would have been from Josef. Honestly, it kind of sucked.

It was because she was pretty, Eugene decided as he wheeled slowly after her. Disappointing pretty girls was always worse than disappointing boring old males. Even though he supposed it would be a long time before he found another girl actually interested in him, if he ever did. Girls didn't go for a paraplegic, even if said paraplegic had the genes of a demigod.

Not that he was all that interested in chasing romance just now. If he was failing this badly just at working at Gattaca, he could only imagine how badly that would go. He wasn't even good at friendship lately. Even the janitor had gotten annoyed at him the other day, and he still couldn't pinpoint what he had said wrong, and…

He took a deep breath.

Who cared about Irene? He didn't even know her, really, and he had apologized. As for his job, well, he hadn't lost it, which was probably for the best. His co-workers would forget his brief fit of madness by the end of the week, and he could get back to work as usual. And this time he would do better, do better, do better, do better…

The mantra repeated over and over in his mind as he returned to his desk and turned the computer on. He didn't need Irene's approval or Vincent's friendship. He just needed to make it to the end of the week before breaking down again. And with the director's words fresh in his mind, he had no excuse to fail.

/.../.../

/.../.../

/.../.../

AN: This fic is beginning to swerve from being about Vincent and Eugene being bros to being about Eugene coping with life. Well, the fic will do what it does. We'll see how much the trend continues. Honestly, Eugene is my main man so I don't particularly mind.

Also, Irene has made an appearance. I'm aware that a good portion of the fandom doesn't actually care about her whatsoever, but honestly I like her character quite a bit. She's not going to be central, but from now on she's going to show up from time to time. Opinions on shipping, anyone?

And reviews are always appreciated. :)