Gattaca wasn't the only place Vincent ever applied to for work. Obviously getting a job there was his first choice, his dream—there was a reason he'd stuck there as a janitor for years, and the fact that he was unlikely to get any jobs that paid better elsewhere was only a small part of it. He still got a kick out of the fact that as part of the staff, he could watch the launches go up every day for free. People had to pay to get tours of this place. He got paid to hang around it instead.

So Gattaca was the place he had his heart set on, the place where he could already picture himself sitting at one of the desks or climbing onto a launch. But he did apply to other places, places with slightly lower standards, places that were less involved with space travel but still involved tangentially. He figured if he could get an in, there was always a chance Gattaca would be more likely to hire him further down the line.

One such place was McGowan University—not that he thought he could work there as a professor, but there was incredible research being done there in the field of spacecraft and astrophysics. He'd applied there for a job as an assistant almost a month ago, and although he had been calling them once a week to make sure his application was still making the rounds, no bite.

No bite, that is, until Tuesday night.

Tuesday night he was at his trashy apartment, rereading a memoir of a famous astronaut, when the call came on the landline (he couldn't afford a cell phone with a janitor's salary).

He picked up, figuring it would be a telemarketer. No one really called him. His friends at work were just that—work friends—and he'd cut ties with his family years ago. The best he could hope for was Caesar telling him he had to work an extra shift. At least then it would be someone he knew.

"Hello?"

"Hello, am I speaking to Vincent Freeman?"

"Yes," Vincent said. Pretty much definitely a telemarketer then. He didn't recognize the voice.

"This is Chad Michaels from McGowan University. You applied for work here as a laboratory assistant a month and a half ago, am I correct?"

Vincent straightened his posture, even aware that the caller couldn't see him. It was the first time the university had called him, although he'd called them at least seven times already. This was either very good or very bad. "Yes, I did."

"Would you still be interested in the position?"

"Yes," Vincent said. "I would."

"Good. Well, you'll be interviewing with me then. Are you free Thursday at two o'clock?"

Of course he wasn't. He had work all day Thursday. That didn't matter. Certainly he wasn't going to argue about something as simple as time. "Yes, I'm free."

"Come to the Human Resources Department and ask for Chad Michaels. I look forward to meeting you. My team says you've been very persistent."

"Working at McGowan would mean a lot to me."

"Well, that's exactly what we like to hear from a prospective employee. I'll see you on Thursday."

Vincent barely got any sleep that night. He couldn't stop thinking over the phone call. He hadn't said anything embarrassing, at least. And he was sure he could finagle a way out of work on Thursday. But it had been months since he'd last had a job interview, and he had the jitters. He'd have to review his notes on how to interview properly tomorrow, as well as his notes on this particular job. Generally he thought he did fairly well at interviews. But he had to do better than fairly well, had to do well enough to impress the fact that he was more than his genes upon the interviewer.

At McGowan University, though, he might have a chance. They were known for being strongly anti-genoist and were known to accept students regardless of genetic deficiencies, sexual orientation, gender or race. A good reputation both in their field of research and as a place of education.

It wouldn't even be close to working at Gattaca if he got the job, of course. They were considerably further down the ladder. And he knew he would miss being able to watch the launches every day, being able to dream. But there would be more to his life than dreaming. He had determined that the first time he interviewed at Gattaca.

Caesar, as he expected, was willing to give him Thursday off, though he did roll his eyes and rant about the short notice. Still, he gave Vincent a thumbs up. "That's what determination gets you, kid. An interview at a real job. Someday soon you're going to be joining the elite, eh?"

Vincent could tell by his tone that he didn't completely believe what he was saying. Still, he meant well. So Vincent smiled and said, "Not quite yet, but this job would be a step."

"If they ask you for a reference, I'll be glad to put in a word," Caesar said.

"You're already on the application and the resume."

Caesar nodded. "Good. Well, I'm sure you'll do fine at the interview. But you better work hard today and Friday. Taking a day off with only a day's notice. Psh."

Caesar might have remained conservative with his optimism, but Vincent's other co-workers, when they heard the news, were considerably more vocal.

"McGowan's been doing some serious research these days," Tina said. "They say they might be able to send up a satellite independently from Gattaca sometime soon. Pretty big deal."

Vincent nodded noncommittally. For a college research program it was a big deal. Compared to Gattaca, where they sent up three launches a day, it didn't seem like much. But who was he to get picky?

"Who cares about their research?" Miguel said.

"Miguel!" Tina said, giving him a disapproving look.

Miguel shook his head. "Hey, I'm not saying anything against McGowan. I'm sure they're ace. But who cares? As long as you get out of this dump…"

"Gattaca is hardly a dump," Vincent said.

"Sure. We get to be part of something bigger. It's great," Miguel said. "Come on guys. We're mopping the floors. I'm just saying, you get a nice job like lab assistant, you take it no matter who's offering."

"I don't have the job yet," Vincent said. "And with my luck, don't get your hopes up."

"You don't need luck. You've got guts," Miguel said. "An interview for a lab assistant position! Lord."

Vincent didn't listen too much to them, of course. Miguel would get excited over anything and Tina might just be being nice. The thing was, a lot of what they said was true. The position McGowan was offering was good, and it would look good on a resume later on. Being a janitor at Gattaca…well, it was a way to pay the bills. But there was no way he'd let himself get stuck here like Janine or Caesar, even if there were some things about the place he'd miss.

He made a point of finding Eugene at the end of the day and telling him about the possible job offer, although he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because he knew Eugene would have a level head about it. The man worked at Gattaca, after all. He wouldn't be wowed at the idea of any position that didn't involve cleaning bathrooms, and he'd know what getting a good job took. If Eugene thought he was getting overexcited, he was getting overexcited. If Eugene thought he had a chance, well, maybe he had a chance.

Eugene listened silently to the whole story (it was a short story, but Vincent stretched it out a bit) with an intent look on his face. When Vincent was done he nodded and said, "Sounds good."

"Yeah," Vincent said. "I'm pretty excited."

"One step towards the sky, right?" Eugene said. "Your dream." He smiled. "I'm happy for you."

Vincent blushed. "Thanks." He bit his lip. "Do you think I have a chance, though?"

Eugene pondered the matter for a moment. "Well, your resume's not spectacular, but I'm sure all the people you've worked for will say you're a hard worker. And you have worked at Gattaca, so that's a point in your favor. And you know the material."

"I got a degree in astrophysics online," Vincent said. "Not a famous program or anything, but it's accredited."

Eugene nodded. "You probably know more than me. I learned some physics and engineering in college, but my major was computer science and I was more focused on swimming than any of that."

Vincent shifted awkwardly. "Well, you're a genius."

"So Director Josef says." Eugene sighed, then refocused. "I think your chances are decent. It's not like you're applying for an upper level position. Just a job as an assistant."

"Thanks," Vincent said.

"What for?" Eugene asked.

Vincent shrugged. "I don't know." He hadn't thanked Tina or Miguel for believing in him, but somehow he felt the need to thank Eugene. Perhaps because on some level he still thought of Eugene as a member of the elite, rather than simply as a friend.

Eugene laughed. "I almost hope you don't get the job."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Things will be boring without you," Eugene said. "Although I think I made a friend the other day."

"Oh?"

"Irene Cassini," Eugene said. "Know anything about her?"

"Not a ton," Vincent said neutrally. So Eugene was making friends with some of his co-workers. Finally. Perhaps that would stop the rumor mill from calling him antisocial. Perhaps it would stop Eugene from actually being antisocial and get him to mellow out.

"Actually I have a hot date tonight," Eugene said with a grin.

"Good for you," Vincent said. "I hope you have fun."

"And I hope you do well on your job interview. We'll have to exchange stories Friday," Eugene said.

With that, they parted. Vincent could still feel a grin stretched over his own face. Things were looking up every which way, and he had a good feeling about tomorrow. A good feeling about life in general, even if for the first time in months he was going to miss out on watching the Thursday launches.

/…/…/

Irene had insisted on driving tonight, so Eugene met her in the parking lot after work. She helped him into the car and they folded up his wheelchair and placed it in the back seat.

From there, they drove straight to the restaurant, a small Italian place that Eugene had visited several times before. He had come a couple times since breaking his back, so the staff no longer stared at his wheelchair as much when they thought he wasn't looking, now able to take it in stride. They also had excellent lasagna, which was what he ordered every time. Irene ordered the same.

"Do you like lasagna?" Eugene asked.

Irene shrugged. "Sometimes. You said it was good."

"So you're just stroking my ego," Eugene said, raising his eyebrows.

"You're a little bit paranoid, you know?" Irene said. "Is there anything else on the menu you would suggest instead?"

"See, it shouldn't matter what I would suggest," Eugene said. "It's not like I'm some kind of connoisseur." She gave him a skeptical look. "Fine. I'll admit it—I'm a connoisseur. But, you know. Order what you like."

"I just did," Irene said.

Eugene said, "Oh." It was probably rude to keep talking about it. "Well, good."

Irene smiled lightly. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Eugene said. "Me, nervous? Never. I'm sure you'll love the lasagna." He grinned even more brightly, but Irene only shook her head.

"They call you stoic around the office, you know," she said. "Not so much since the drunk incident, but before. Still a little bit." She shook her head. "You really are nervous."

"Maybe a bit," Eugene said. "Take it as a compliment."

"How long has it been since your last date?" Irene asked.

Eugene had to think it over for a minute. His last date…It would have to be that time he went out for drinks with Alex, although Alex had been a lot more into that than he had. That probably still counted—Alex had definitely tried to kiss him, even if Eugene had initially thought it was just getting drinks with a friend. So, a date. The last time he had a date he had enjoyed was too long ago to bother thinking about.

"Four years," he said, finally.

Irene stared at him.

"What?" he said. "I've been busy."

"You were in the Olympics only three years ago," Irene said. "You got a silver medal. There must have been girls throwing themselves at you."

Eugene winced. There had been more than one, certainly. "Yes, well, in the circles I ran in, there were plenty of men like me. It didn't take long for them to move on."

"Men like you?"

"Valid, rich, intelligent. Devilishly handsome." He winked at her. "I'm sure you know the type."

"You forgot to mention arrogant," she said. "And yes. I do know the type."

Judging by her expression (and by her workplace), Eugene was sure she had gone out with more than a few of them in her time. No wonder, really. She was a certain type as well. Also valid, rich and intelligent, and beautiful as well. She would be a smart match for any valid with high standards for his women, and enticing enough to anyone else.

Perhaps his attraction to her meant that he was the same as them. He found he didn't particularly care. There was plenty about her to like.

"So?" Irene asked. "You thought the women after you were too shallow?"

Yes. No. Maybe? "They were very attracted to the fact that I was an Olympic athlete with a lot of money," Eugene said.

"And you couldn't even give them a chance?"

Eugene shrugged. "They had high expectations. I probably could have met them, but…" He shrugged. He had been dealing with enough expectations without having to live up to the expectations of a romantic partner. "I was busy training, at first. I was very focused." He had forced himself to be focused, beyond even what his coach had considered healthy. It might not have been good for his body but it kept his mind quiet. "And after the Olympics, I suppose it was one thing after another." And by that he meant it had been a media circus and then alcoholism and then attempted suicide. But that wasn't something to talk about on your first date. Or possibly ever.

"You're a workaholic," Irene said.

More like an alcoholic, but sure. Eugene said, "How long has it been for you, then?"

"One week," Irene said. "Don't look so surprised. It's normal to go on dates fairly often at Gattaca, you know. Once the girls find out you're available you may find yourself with some offers as well."

"I was surprised it had been a whole week," Eugene said. "You said you were busy last night, didn't you?"

"With a friend," Irene said. "You didn't think I had dates every night, did you?"

Eugene said, "Maybe."

"Funny."

The lasagna, when it came, was as good as Eugene remembered. He didn't drink any wine with dinner, although Irene drank a little, promising not to get too drunk to drive. She didn't mind, probably because she remembered what a fool he'd made of himself the last time he'd been drinking.

Their conversation wandered this way and that. He asked about what she did in her free time (reading, bird watching, hiking, and self defense classes lately) and she asked him the same (reading, and…well, lately that was about it, but she didn't make fun of him for it). She told him about the companies where she'd worked before Gattaca—only a few, her skills had led her to be hired after just a few years, but refrained from asking him about the Olympics. Probably could guess that in many ways it was a sore subject. They had fun mocking Director Josef, who had been riding Irene's back lately on a project.

Irene also told him a good deal of office gossip that he had been missing out on by not being connected to the grape vine. A lot of drama, but not more than he would have expected.

"Pretty tame," he told her.

She gave him a look. "Well, it's not like we have a lot of murders."

"Olympic gossip is more exciting," he said. "All you Gattaca workers are so well behaved." He shook his head. "Oh well. I'm sure it'll all explode eventually and it'll be very fun to watch."

"It's because of remarks like that that everybody says you hate working for Gattaca."

Eugene bit his lip. "It's nothing personal."

"Nothing personal but you'd love to see everyone at Gattaca go to Hell," Irene said.

"Not everyone," he insisted.

"Mhm," Irene said. "You know, some of us are quite nice. You should be more social."

"I'll try."

"I'm holding you to it."

Eugene was fairly certain no one in the world could compel him to join Gattaca's social circles, but he smiled, appreciating the thought. She was a surprisingly nice woman, though he wasn't sure why he was so surprised.

And so the night trailed on one way and another, and she drove him home, dropped him off at his house. Before he went to bed he spared a thought for Vincent, whose job interview was the next day. Perhaps when Vincent was working at McGowan it would still be okay. Eugene would still have at least one friend at Gattaca, even if Irene and Vincent were nothing alike.

/.../.../

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AN: Sorry for the distance between updates. This chapter gave me a hard time because, basically, it's a happy chapter. Writing mostly happy chapters is difficult. And I was also working on a couple other things. Life is chaos.

The shipping heats up between Irene and Eugene, and it looks like Vincent's luck is taking a turn for the better...Or is it? What do you think will happen next, or should happen next? Reviews would be much appreciated.