Chapter One

Ten years later, 1961

The young woman sputtered, coughing, while her friend thumped her lightly on the back, a few other restaurant patrons glancing over at the small booth in the corner to see what all the fuss was about. "What?"

"Jesus, Christine, I was only joking," said her friend, taking another sip from her glass of wine. "You know he can't possibly be cheating on you; I've seen the way he looks at you, he's completely smitten."

"It's not something to joke about, and it wasn't funny," muttered Christine, absentmindedly pushing her angel hair pasta around her plate with her fork. "Thanks for ruining my appetite, Meg."

Meg grinned, sweeping a lock of her dark, stringy hair back into place behind her ear. "You were nervous to begin with, don't blame it all on me."

"Is it that obvious?" asked Christine, concerned.

"You've always been sort of transparent, Christine, as far as emotions are concerned." At her companion's frown, Meg added, "Then again, I've known you for the past six years, so that might be a factor as well…"

Christine sighed, putting down her fork and fretting with her blonde hair. "I hadn't wanted to be so nervous, I can never function properly," she muttered.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I mean, it's completely understandable to be nervous about the announcement that could make or break your career…"

At this, Christine gave a small groan and buried her face in her hands. Meg spied a waiter approaching and shooed him away before continuing, "Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say."

"Yes, I think so."

"I'm sorry," said Meg, patting Christine gently on the back. "What I meant to say all along was this: there is absolutely no reason at all to be nervous, as you are the obvious choice for the lead of this esteemed expedition you've been telling me all about for the past five months."

Christine smiled, taking her hands away from her face. "Thanks, Meg."

"Of course. Now finish your dinner so we can celebrate your twenty sixth birthday properly."

-----

"Good morning, Doctor."

He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, running his hand through his thick, though graying, hair. "Ah, Christine," he said, standing, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, a gesture reminiscent of the chivalry and gallantry of old. "How lovely to see you, my dear. I trust you had a good birthday?"

She giggled a little, reclaiming her hand graciously. "Yes, Doctor Flynn, I did, thank you." She sat at her smaller desk in the same room, though opposite from him. "I do, however, have a slight confession to make."

Flynn looked up at her again, abandoning the stack of documents again, and extremely willingly, though knowing he would probably regret it later. "Oh?"

"I…" she faltered, then took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm rather nervous about the chairman's announcement today…"

He chuckled. "Christine, my dear, trust me. You have nothing to worry about; never before in my life have I seen such credentials in a person of your age. You might as well consider yourself already assigned to the position."

"Oh, Doctor, I just don't understand how you can be so sure about this, I mean, really, I'm new to the department, and there are so many other qualified people here, and, let's face it, who would choose a woman to be the lead of such an important—"

"Stop," interrupted the Doctor. "Christine, stop. Think of what you are saying."

"What? I'm only stating a well-known fact, men are obviously more qualified than women," she said bitterly. "Why else am I the only female scientist in this building?"

Doctor Flynn sighed. "I don't quite know what to say to that, I'm afraid."

"It's all right, Doctor," she sighed. "I apologize; I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you were only trying to talk some sense into me."

"Perfectly all right, my dear." He stood and approached her. "If you need anything, Christine, you only need to ask, you know that. I…" He paused, not sure if he should continue, finally deciding after a moment that he would. "I know things have been difficult for you since your father died."

She bit her lower lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. "It's…frustrating at times, Doctor. It has already been over a year; you would think… well, never mind, I won't trouble you with it."

He kept silent, wanting her to continue, yet knowing she wouldn't. That was one of the things he had come to so admire about her, one of the most obvious, most appealing traits about her personality: her strong will. He knew that with her superiors she was properly deferent and resigned, though he had been acquainted with her long enough to know that it was only a show, only necessary to not damage fragile egos and result in the loss of her job. He admired her, exceeding in a field dominated by men—for she was right, she was the only woman in the building, aside from the various clerks and secretaries. She had worked hard for her spot, and he hoped that she would be rewarded with this assignment. And he had been telling the truth earlier; never before had he ever seen anyone work quite as hard as she, never before had he seen anyone with such an impressive resume, or with such vast experience.

He just prayed that someone else would be able to recognize her genius as well…

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but would you excuse me for a moment?" she said, standing up and stepping away from her desk, heading towards the door. "I've just realized that I told Raoul I would come to see him for a little bit; I think he feels guilty for not being able to get off work in time for my birthday…" She was grinning slightly, a little more of her customary cheeriness returning, another aspect that he so appreciated about her.

He laughed. "Ah, well, you must forgive us men for being so work-oriented sometimes, Christine. Most of us don't know how to step back and spend time with a beautiful young thing like yourself."

She blushed, the rosy tint enhancing and further complementing her complexion, her blue eyes sparkling. "Actually, Doctor," she said, laughing. "Actually, I think I'm much more work-oriented than he is, to tell you the truth. He's the one who is always telling me to take a break."

"And of course he is most definitely right," said Flynn.

"Doctor, if I stop, then I shudder to think what state everything would be in once I returned," she quipped teasingly, and left the room without a backward glance.

"Touché, my dear," murmured the Doctor. "Touché."