Surprise! Another chapter so soon? Thank Nanowrimo.
Also, lots of love to CLTex, Poodle warriors, dancinwmypinkipod, belowfire15, Sulia Serafine, americanlatinajapanesegirl, sunnyontheheights, Vintagegirl1912, and Benedict'sZombieGirl as well as guests (and my china uwu) for your reviews and feedback. It is much appreciated as always!
Chapter 32 – Uitwaaien
Three Months Later
"Madelyn, you've got a call on line two."
She hit the touchpad on her desk to trigger a holographic screen that expanded into the air in front of her. When she saw who it was, she heaved a sigh.
"Mrs. Brown."
"My son came home crying yesterday and showed me the low marks you gave him, and I demand to know why! He's always been a wonderful boy and was the top of his class last year, but ever since he's had you as a teacher, he thinks he's nothing but a failure!"
"There's nothing I can do about his poor grammar and spelling if he won't acknowledge that he has a problem. This is a ninth year history class. He should be able to proofread his own work."
"This is ridiculous!" Mrs. Brown raged. "You're his teacher. Show him what he can fix! He's trying his hardest. At least give him a few extra marks for that!"
"I'll give him more marks when he does his work correctly," Madelyn replied carefully, trying to remain as unbiased as possible.
The truth was that Ben Brown was one of her rudest students and found large amounts of pleasure in tormenting her whenever possible, including, but not limited to, pasting print outs of old tabloid articles all around her office, of which she was the central target. After receiving a warning from the headmaster never to venture into a teacher's office again, Ben had to resort to more subtle tactics. Often he would leave a scribbled note in his homework, including drawings of small stick figures in inappropriate positions.
Ben was the only student she had who seemed to care anything about her past.
"No, I'm going to take this to the headmaster. If you can't do your job correctly, maybe we need to find a new history teacher."
The hologram feed cut out before Madelyn could respond, and she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. The Brown family was one of the school's wealthiest families, and as a result one of their most well-respected financial backers.
There were few people in Hastings who brought up any of the events of the last year when they saw her for the first time back in April. When she applied for this position in May, it was the first thing to come up. She imagined the obligatory background check was littered with things she'd rather forget, but somehow they weren't enough to keep her from landing a small teaching position, and that alone gave her hope. She hadn't expected to land this job in the first place, but summer school wasn't as important of an education as autumn to spring for most families, so that was probably why.
Now it was July, and just about everything was grating on her nerves.
"Hey Madelyn."
She looked up to see the school's headmaster standing in the doorway of her office with a gentle smile on his face. He held out a tablet to her. "This is the resume of a potential candidate we have coming in tomorrow for an interview. Would you mind telling me what you think?"
She took the PADD with a question in her eyes and quickly scanned down the columns of text. Dr. Thomas Foster. PhD in Advanced Genetics.
"Well he's clearly overqualified to be teaching at a secondary school," she commented.
She kept reading, pausing over the paragraph describing his most recent work experience. Despite how carefully it was worded, she caught the red flags like they'd been bolded and underlined.
A wide variety of classified, experimental projects.
Section 31.
Trying to appear unfazed, she handed the tablet back to her boss. "I'm not sure why someone like him would want to work here. Maybe you should direct him to the college over in Portsmouth. Or back to London."
"Well he has a clean track record and his previous employers check out or don't exist anymore, as we're both well aware of. I'm still going to consider him just based on his experience, though you do have a point. Thanks, Madelyn."
He walked away, leaving her to brood over the idea of a former Section 31 operative working in the same building as her. Chances were he'd never even crossed paths with Marcus, or Khan for that matter. She shook her head at herself and got back to work. There were still more essays to read, grades to give, and spreadsheets to fill out before she could go home, and it was already four in the afternoon.
She worked for an hour in peace and quiet, and then a call came up on her holoscreen. It took her a moment to register who was calling, and when she did she quickly answered.
"Bones!"
"Hey, Madelyn, how ya doin'?"
"I—I'm doing great! How are you?"
McCoy cleared his throat and shrugged at the screen, raising an eyebrow. She wondered if he could read the lie behind her response. "I'm as good as they come, I suppose. Been sacked with work recently. All this damn new technology coming out of the Section 31 investigation. I don't even wanna think about what my buddies in engineering are putting up with."
"But at least something good's come of it, right?" She leaned onto her elbows so she could see his face better. She kind of missed him. "I mean, these are good advances, not the weaponry and battleships, but…"
"Yeah, they're good. They're fine. Expensive. A lot of it was probably financed by your grandfather."
I wouldn't know, she thought to herself. Millions of William's money could have gone straight into the short-lived Vengeance, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know at this point.
"So, what are you calling me for? I'm working and I don't exactly have a lot of spare time on my hands."
"Yeah, I just wanted to see how you were. I'm glad you got yourself back on your feet. I knew you would, but I… well after what you told me back in April, I just couldn't forgive myself for letting him out in the first place—"
"Bones, none of that was your fault."
"Well, I don't know—"
"If you hadn't done what you did, I wouldn't be here today."
He was silent for a moment, studying her through the transmission. "Yeah, okay. I guess it was pretty complicated, what with Commander Gallagher and then the other Augments turning up."
"Speaking of the other Augments," she said quickly, needing to steer the subject as far away from Owen as she possibly could. She wasn't sure who knew he was dead and who didn't. "Where are they? I mean, the ones that are awake. Cecelia, Kati…" She wracked her brain for the names of the others but couldn't find them anywhere.
"I wish I was allowed to tell you, but I can only reassure you they won't be reunited with their fearless leader anytime soon—"
"That's not what I was asking," she interrupted. "Are they alright? Are they being taken care of?"
"Well, yeah, of course. Starfleet does have basic human rights protocols, you know. We're not Section 31. We don't keep them locked away from the sun for months at a time."
"No… No, of course not." She wasn't sure she believed him, but she knew he couldn't tell her the whole truth without risking his job. "I'm sorry for bugging you, it's just…" She sighed. "Kati, especially, deserves better."
"Well, I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks." She offered him a smile, then reached for the panel of buttons on the holoscreen. "I've got to go. I still need to finish some things up."
"Wait. Madelyn, before you go. You need to know."
She had already turned her attention back to one of her student's PADDs. "Know what?"
There was a long pause, long enough for her to glance up at the screen again.
"He's comin' to see you."
She did more than glance at the screen this time. "What?"
"Khan. He'll probably be there by the end of the day."
She stared at him, transfixed by the empathetic look on his face and the words coming out of his mouth. "Why—no, how?"
"Basic human rights protocols, remember? Don't be surprised if you see a drone or two circling your house when you get home."
"You have got to be kidding me." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms, her work forgotten.
"I wish I was, but he made a special request. We couldn't ignore it."
She felt strangely unruffled by this news, but the timing sucked. It was the middle of the summer session and the benefactors' gala was in four days. Not only did she have a full plate of work to take care of, but she was also responsible for organizing the gala itself. She hadn't exactly volunteered for the job either.
She heaved a sigh and ran her fingers through her scalp, massaging it slowly. "Alright, well, thanks for the heads up." Goddamnit, it's been over three months!
"No problem. Call me if there's trouble, but we'll have eyes on him twenty-four seven."
Twenty-four seven… "Wait, how long is he staying for?"
McCoy winced. "A week."
She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with some way of getting out of this that didn't involve losing her job. She couldn't live off her grandfather's money without being a decent member of society. It didn't feel right. She'd have to stick around.
"Right, okay. Well, Bones, I've got to go for real this time. It was nice to talk to you."
He nodded, the corner of his mouth rising in a half smile that contrasted sharply with that stupid raised eyebrow. "Feelin's mutual. Take care o' yourself."
Her smile dropped as soon as the call ended. One more hour of work and then she'd go home. Maybe she could still beat Khan to the punch.
The house was quiet when she stepped inside. Yellow rectangles of afternoon light covered the hardwood floors and traced the opposite walls with glittering perfection. Her grandfather's summer home was a quaint, historically-accurate masterpiece, a copy of a 19th century seaside villa complete with an attached greenhouse in the back. He'd always had an affinity for old architecture. He'd once talked about selling it to a historical society and turning it into a museum, but he'd never gotten around to it. Madelyn was glad he hadn't.
She much preferred living here to her small, sterile flat in London. Especially now that she had no one to share a space with. There was something so homey and personable about this place, with the smell of the sea coming through the open windows, translucent curtains fluttering in the warm breeze. At night, the wooden frames of the house sometimes creaked, like it was alive and its own entity, a great, old barrier against the trouble of the outside world. But it was really just a nice house that happened to be on oceanfront property. There was a paved walk in the back that led down to the water, where a small boat waited to be pulled away from its dock by a lonely soul needing escape.
The subtle buzzing of a drone caught her ear when she passed an open window and she glanced up at the sky just in time to see its tiny metallic parts glistening in the afternoon light. She chewed on her lower lip and shut the window.
Passing through the house, down the hall where the stairs were and then into the kitchen, she kept an eye out for him. She imagined that, if he were already here, he'd step out of the shadows and invade her space, expecting a warm welcome or at least a kind word. He'd receive none of that.
She dumped her bag and coat on the bar at the edge of the kitchen, pausing long enough to take a second glance at the countertop. Her fingers touched it before she realized what it was that had caught her eye. That damn necklace, the silver one, the one he had given to her on Christmas.
The one he had used to track her when Owen had kidnapped her.
She stared at it, rolling it between her fingers, considering what she could do with it. She hated it. She hated what it meant.
She glanced up and around her, wondering where he was. Had he come and gone? Had he decided to leave her be altogether? Was this his version of a parting gift? She snorted. He'd never be so blatantly sentimental.
Movement outside distracted her. His back was turned, but he was unmistakable. A long gray coat with a bold collar graced his shoulders as he stood in the yard like a sentry. The sight of him made her mouth go dry and her heart speed up. And then she could taste the anger in her mouth and knew exactly what she was going to do.
She crashed through the back door, her flats tapping furiously across the paving stones. She didn't acknowledge him. She didn't slow down or even look at him when he turned but strode firmly down the path towards the dock, his necklace clutched in her fingers. She didn't care if he followed her. She'd keep going until she could reach the boat and get the hell away from him.
She reached the dock and hesitated long enough to see that he'd followed her a short distance, but was waiting a little ways up the hill. Probably watching to see what she was going to do. Served him right. She let the necklace dangle out of her fingers for a moment, long enough for it to catch light and hopefully Khan's eye. Then she balled it up in her fist again and flung it towards the water with all her strength. A few seconds later there was a subtle splash and a wave of satisfaction washed over her. She turned on her heel and headed back towards the house. She willed him not to stop her, but somehow she knew it wouldn't work.
He grabbed her.
He pulled her by her shoulder until he was practically on top of her and she did her best to glare at him.
"Not even a hello?"
"Who says you deserve it?"
"That was your necklace you so gracefully transplanted to the bottom of the sea," he replied, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards the water.
"No, that was your necklace," she spat. "I'm done with that part of my life now."
"I should hope so."
His quiet response made something inside her tighten. He let her go and she took a big, healthy step back. He hadn't hurt her, but she loathed the way he could do that and get away with it.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you."
"You could've at least… called." She realized suddenly how stupid that sounded, since he more than likely hadn't been privy to any communication with the outside world while he was in custody.
"I imagine you were contacted by someone."
She didn't respond, not willing to divulge anymore information to him than she needed. "Well now you need to leave."
"Pardon?"
"I said you need to leave. You need to go… right now." Her voice was shaking. Dammit, what was wrong with her?
"I'm not going anywhere, Madelyn. It was hard enough to convince Starfleet to let me come here. I'll be here all week."
"But this—this isn't—you can't!" Her voice hit a higher pitch than she intended, but she didn't know what else to say. She groaned loudly and turned on her heel, heading back towards the house.
"Three months and this is all you have to say to me?" His voice traveled up the hillside behind her, but when she glanced back, he was in pursuit. She kept going. "Madelyn!"
She stormed back into the house, yanking her bag off the bar. By the time she'd pulled her coat on, Khan advanced through the door and reached for her.
"You will stop and talk to me!"
"Not a chance."
She whirled and made a beeline for the front, snatching her keys off the table by the door. Khan stepped into her path.
"Get out of my way!" she exclaimed.
"Why are you doing this? You've had three months—"
"And I could use three more if you don't mind! Now let me out of my house!"
"Please, stop."
His hands hovered in the air between them, almost as if he wanted to grab her and make her stop, but was trying very hard not to. Like he knew that would only make things worse. She glared at him, biting down on the inside of her cheek in fury.
"I got a call one hour ago. One hour, Khan. That wasn't enough time—"
"Dr. McCoy?"
She hesitated. "Yeah."
"I realized you would receive no warning of my arrival, so I asked him to personally let you know. I believe he's what you might call a mutual friend?"
She raised her eyebrows, partially in disbelief that he would even refer to Bones this way, and partially because he'd thought one hour would be enough time for her to come to grips with this.
"I'm sorry, I would have told you sooner. Starfleet leaves me little room to maneuver, and even then it is mostly within the lab."
"You have really shitty timing," was all she could say in response.
He reached down and gently pulled her handbag from her shoulder. "You've just arrived home from work. You don't have anywhere else you need to be tonight?"
She gazed up at him cooly, tempted to use planning the gala as an excuse to get away anyway. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was anymore work. She just hadn't expected to be unwinding this evening with Khan in the vicinity.
"You're here for a week?"
"That is all the time they would give me."
She sighed and shrugged out of her coat, then turned away from him and dropped it back on the bar with her bag.
"I guess you'll be staying… where exactly?"
"Here."
"So, no hotel?"
"I can if you wish."
She shook her head. "I don't want to know what kind of strings you had to pull to get them to let you come here." She motioned to the far side of the large living space, where the furniture was arranged to provide a wide view of the ocean through large windows that made up most of the wall. "You can sleep on the couch."
Khan turned and eyed the furniture in question. "Fine."
She almost rolled her eyes. "It's not good enough for you, is it?"
"It is fine. You know I don't require copious amounts of sleep."
She'd already gone back into the kitchen and didn't care if he heard her remark. "Copious for you is barely enough for me lately." She pulled a large pot of spaghetti from the fridge, leftover from the malfunctioning synthesizer that now sat in the basement. Spaghetti sounded really good right about now.
Khan strode into the kitchen, his eyes flitting everywhere, taking the whole room in. "How is your work treating you?"
"Fine." She poured pasta and tomato sauce onto a plate and slid it into the microwave for a few seconds. When it came out, the smell wafted into the room and made her mouth water. When she turned, he was eyeing the plate. "Oh. Do you want some?"
"You're making me an offer I cannot refuse."
She handed him the plate and made another one for herself. "Forks in the drawer behind you."
She glanced up to see him rifling through the drawer of silverware, until he'd found a fork to his liking. Then she ducked her gaze to her own food for a moment, but couldn't resist stealing another glance. She'd never actually seen him eat anything before.
He slid a forkful of pasta into his mouth and actually looked like he was enjoying himself. Red sauce smeared onto his lips and chin, and he wiped away the latter with his fingers. He ran his tongue along his lips, then caught her gaze as he licked his fingers and she returned her attention to her food.
It was hilarious and strange and downright obscene.
"Yeah, work is fine. It keeps me busy." She had to distract herself. He was downing that spaghetti like it was the best thing he'd ever eaten and his fingers slid back into his mouth more than once. "Too busy. Honestly, it would be easier if you weren't here. This week of all weeks."
He swallowed a mouthful and ran his tongue along the corner of his lips. "Explain."
"There's an event coming up at the school in a few days and I was put in charge of organizing it. Which means that not only do I have to make sure everything goes as planned, but I have to be there in order to be recognized for having planned it—and probably to keep my job."
She shoved a mouthful of pasta into her mouth.
"I'm sure you've done nothing to deserve being fired."
His words were hardly encouraging, but she didn't have the heart to bring up why. "It's enough that they hired me at all," she said through her mouthful. "A few families complained, but my resume was louder. Which reminds me…" She set her plate down on the counter. "We had a job applicant come in for an interview today and I got a look at his resume. Turns out he used to work in Section 31, and might have been involved in some questionable research before they were shut down."
Khan paused in his inhalation of his food. "Questionable research?"
"Classified, experimental projects was all it said."
"What is his name?"
She wracked her brain to remember.
"Madelyn, it is very important that you remember the name on the resume."
"Thomas Foster. Dr. Thomas Foster."
Khan set his plate down on the counter, his features tightening. "Perhaps the timing of my visit could not have been more appropriate."
"You know him?"
"Dr. Foster worked for Joaquin. I believe he was the one responsible for drugging you the evening you and I met in Trafalgar Square." He ran a hand along his jaw as his gaze steeled. "This would explain the missing shuttle."
"What?"
His plate of spaghetti forgotten, Khan paced across the room. "Before things escalated out of control, I noticed there were four ships in the Io facility hangar: two 31 shuttles, the K'Normian vessel, and the older ship from California. Later, as we were leaving, I realized there should have been two left, rather than one, the one we crashed. All of the ships but one were gone before I'd gotten you out of that control room. Kati would have taken one and Suzette another. Cecelia, Otto, and Aidan were distracted in the control room. So there should have been another ship. It had seemed like such a minor detail at the time and I quickly dismissed it, but now I understand."
"You're saying this guy worked for Joaquin, was on that station, and somehow escaped without ever being seen by either of us?"
"He's smart and he's dangerous. If he's chosen to apply for a position at the academic facility where you work, then you are clearly in his sights."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I am not."
Would this ever end? Would she always be the goal of some mad scientist wanting to explore the elixir of Augment and Human genes that made her tick? "But why would he still be after me? Everyone who could possibly pay him for information is gone."
"He is a man of science. He will do whatever is necessary to attain his goals. And so will I."
It took her a moment to realize what he was insinuating. "No. No way."
"The cleanest, quickest method would be to slip into his house in the middle of the night—"
"No! You can't just murder him. You're being watched! The moment you do anything out of the ordinary, they'll send in the troops. And where will you be then?"
Not here.
"What would you have me do? I have killed for you before."
She ground her teeth. The first night they'd met, after William's murder, he'd run off, disappeared for a couple hours only to come back wearing a different shirt. The next day, a man's body was found in a ditch a few miles from the house, twisted and mangled, photographs too violent to show on television uncensored. Apparently that man had killed William.
Hans Madsen had received similar treatment.
And the worst part was she hadn't asked him to do any of it.
Jesus, Khan had only been here for what, thirty minutes? And already he was talking about killing someone.
"No one is going to die, ok? There is a line and you're not going to cross it. Not as long as you're sleeping on my couch."
"Then we'll have to come up with an alternative."
He was being oddly flexible about this.
"We may be able to lure him into a trap and make it appear as though he killed himself. I may even be able to convince him to kill himself. With the proper motivation, almost anyone can be manipulated into taking their own—"
"Did you hear nothing I just said?" she interrupted. He stopped pacing and honed in on her. The ferocity of his attention made her forget what she was going to say for a second. "No more killing," she said quietly. "Though you might have the right idea about a trap."
He seemed extremely interested now and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me."
She took a second to relish this moment. Khan was actually going to listen to something she had to offer and really consider it as a viable option. She pursed her lips to keep from smirking. "If we can find a way to lure him here, he might be desperate enough to break in and doing so will set off the alarm system. Then we won't have to "take care" of him, because the police will."
"Abide by the law, but use yourself as the bait. How do you know it will work? How do you know he's desperate enough to break in, and even if he does, how do you know the police will arrive in time to stop him?"
He would always beat her to the punch. She glanced to the side. "I don't. But I don't think it's anything I can't handle."
"There also lies the problem of baiting him. You will need to come up with a hook to catch him. I can think of several, but you won't like them."
"Try me."
"When Foster comes in for his interview, make sure you share the room and then mention to someone nearby that you're pregnant."
"No, you're right I don't like that."
"Lie about having cancer. He'll seek out your doctor for medical records and we catch him breaking in there."
"That's even worse."
Khan's eyebrows lifted and she waited with baited breath for his third suggestion.
"You're a very attractive woman and I don't think he'd be averse to—"
"Oh my god!"
"As I said, you wouldn't like them."
Madelyn lifted her chin to meet his gaze head on. "The first one wasn't so bad."
"Are you sure?" Khan lowered his chin until his gaze was tearing into her.
She licked her lips, convincing herself this was a good idea. Regardless of any ulterior motives Khan might have, Foster had to go. "What've I got to lose?"
"Your job, perhaps?"
"Not if this works. And you need to stay out of it. You'll probably scare him off."
"Then you had better hope it works."
The following morning, Madelyn walked into work rehearsing the steps of their plan in her head. The more she thought about it, the more she believed it could actually work. It was foolproof really, provided Foster wanted to use her badly enough. No one would have to die. No one would get hurt at all. Foster would be arrested and the school wouldn't hire him. And she would be able to work in peace, without worrying about some creep trying to stick a needle in her at inopportune moments.
Khan's reaction to Foster's arrival on the scene had almost been annoying, but mostly it had been comforting. She'd never admit that to him, but she couldn't deny that her feelings for him had never quite diminished completely. She was still more angry with him than anything else. That he had the guts to show up in Hastings without sending her so much as a warning call from Bones an hour prior, well it just reminded her that even though she thought she knew him well, she didn't know him well enough. Then again, desperate people did desperate things.
"What a surprise!"
Madelyn looked up from her desk and was greeted with the sight of a tall, lanky man with white hair, probably in his mid to late 60s.
"I hope I'm not bothering you, I just couldn't help but notice the name on the door. You're Madelyn McGivers. The Madelyn McGivers."
She fought to keep looking annoyed and offered a subtle smile instead. "I am. And you are?"
"Oh, forgive my manners." He stepped into her office and extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Thomas Foster. Here for an interview actually. I'm a little early."
So this was him. She'd never seen him before, ever, but that didn't stop her from being repulsed. He had a gleam in his eye that she didn't like, but everything else about him was perfectly ordinary. English accent, aging skin, yellowing teeth, weak handshake. No sign of experimental drug use here.
"Obviously I'm aware of the events from a few months back, but I knew your parents, particularly your mother, and I have to say you really take after her. What you went through in San Francisco… and Khan…" Foster shook his head. "All very unfortunate."
It took Madelyn a moment to process what he was saying. "You knew my mom?"
"Sure did. Such a shame what she went through before you were born. The mess of her genes and the mutations and almost losing you. You and your family have been through a hell of a lot."
Madelyn was sitting up a little straighter now. He couldn't possibly have known these details without having researched them first, and the personal angle he added to them made her uncomfortable.
Foster checked his watch. "I have a little time for lunch after this interview. What if you met me at the café around the corner? Say around noon? I have a lot to tell you, and I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
Madelyn nodded wordlessly, feeling drawn in by the things he was presenting. There was no harm in it. It was a public place. She wanted to know everything, and it might provide her a different set of circumstances in which to get close to him.
He was called into the headmaster's office and she leaned back in her chair, suddenly grateful that she'd made it clear to Khan that he should stay out of this. She'd change their plan a little, and it would be fine. Foster's information was more important now.
Still, she felt an inkling of a desire to call the house and tell him. If she did, at least that would make telling him the truth that much easier. It was a little harder when he was staring her down with those eyes that couldn't decide whether they were blue or green or gray, but were always deep and definitely carrying dangerous tendencies.
She shook her head at herself. This wasn't as big of a deal as her mind was making it out to be. She'd meet Foster at the café, learn what she could, avoid any of his questions, lead him on with the pregnancy lie, and get out before she wasted too much time. This was just a minor bump in the road and she'd steer carefully around it, while making sure to get a real good look. Hopefully when all was said and done, he'd take the bait.
For noon on a Wednesday, the café was no more crowded than usual and Madelyn managed to snatch up an empty table outside before Foster arrived. She sat strategically, allowing herself a wide view of the street, the plaza a block away, and the fishing pier across from it. This way if Khan had decided for whatever reason to leave the house, she would see him before he saw her. Hopefully.
It wasn't that she didn't want him to find her, but not if she was entertaining Foster outside of their original plan to get him out of town.
No, she decided. She didn't want him to find her at all. Not in public.
She saw Foster as he appeared around the corner carrying a briefcase, and vaguely straightened. She felt like she was going into battle. If Khan was right and this man had worked alongside Madsen and Joaquin, then he knew an awful lot about her already. It wouldn't be hard for him to try and get under her skin, but so far he'd seemed rather benign in his conversation.
He sat down across from her, straightened his suit, and quickly ordered a salad and tea. Madelyn wasn't hungry and dismissed the server, her attention fixed on him.
"I came here to get answers," she said. "Tell me everything you know."
"That would take more than a mere lunch meeting," he replied, grinning. "Let's start with you."
Madelyn couldn't hold back her displeased smile. "No. I'm craving chocolate from a bakery on the other side of town right now, so you tell me what I want to know, or we're done here." She threw in the craving comment to get him warmed up.
"There's chocolate pie on the menu—"
"Chocolate on the other side of town, Dr. Foster."
His eyes narrowed briefly, then he took a long drink from his glass of water. "Alright, since you are being so insistent, I suppose I would be willing to answer a few of your questions first."
"Just tell me everything you know about my mom."
Foster nodded and laced his fingers together on the table. "Susan Marla McGivers. Graduated from Princeton summa cum laude, double major in Philosophy and Astrophysics, top of every class. She went on to join Starfleet before she married Richard Cauley, a retired military man. She died giving birth to you on December 4th, 2231. Do I need to go on?"
Madelyn ground her teeth together. "All of that information is public record. You said you knew more."
"Do you think I would reveal the rest of what I know without receiving something in return?"
Of course.
She glared at him and leaned back in her seat. Their server returned with a salad for Foster and he quickly began working on it.
It struck her that she might still be able to salvage this.
"Are you going to eat your tomatos?" she said, leaning forward, eyeing the red cherry-sized vegetables amidst the bed of green.
"I thought you said you weren't hungry."
"I'm not. I just have a craving."
He chuckled and spooned them out onto a napkin. Madelyn snatched them up and popped them into her mouth.
"How interesting."
"Mm?"
"When was the last time you saw a physician?"
She kept chewing, looking him dead in the eye without responding. Then she shrugged. "It's none of your business."
Foster's eyes narrowed again. He looked suspicious.
Good.
"Well, if you're not going to tell me anything more than I already know, I suppose this is goodbye." She started to gather up her bag, making sure to look as disinterested as she felt.
"Wait, I could show you a few things."
She paused, noticing he was digging through his briefcase propped against the side of his chair. She raised her eyebrows. "Like what? Be specific."
"Your mother's genetic structure. The reason your birth killed her." He pulled a small storage device from his case and set it on the table. "All of that and more is on this drive. However, as I have said, I will not reveal anything for free."
"What do you want? Do you want a sample of my blood? Because I could honestly care less if you pulled a syringe out right now. Just make it quick."
"I would like to run a complete series of tests on you and I would like you to be present for the analysis. Then I could compare your results with your mother's, both before pregnancy and during."
There. She had him.
She feigned shock and straightened back in her seat, sliding her hands from their casual place on the table. "How did you know?" she said quietly.
"Your cravings. A very obvious sign of the first trimester. And I should like to know whose it is."
There was a disturbing glimmer in his eye and she was suddenly extremely grateful that this was all a ruse. She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and stood up from the table, satisfied that she'd baited him enough, but silently frustrated that she'd still managed to lose this opportunity. "I'm not putting myself through this again, not after what your friend Madsen pulled. Sorry."
And with that, she walked quickly away.
By the time she'd reached the school, her frustration overshadowed her satisfaction. Foster had information, about her mother, about her family, potentially about herself, and she wanted it.
She wanted it badly.
The chapter title, Uitwaaien, is a Dutch word, meaning "to take a brief break in the countryside to clear one's head." It's pronounced out-vye-in.
Thanks so much for reading! I'm looking forward to hearing from you guys xoxo