Part 10

Grace couldn't help the undeniable pity she felt for Veidt. She also had an incredible urge to learn German. He kept saying things in German, and her curiosity was ready to eat her from the inside out. Of course, if he was saying things in another language, it probably meant that he didn't want her to understand.

Typical.

He slept for almost eight hours straight. She checked on him regularly, and found that watching him sleep was very comforting. It humanized him, in a way. He was finally at peace, at least for a small while. And while he slightly resembled a child, she couldn't help but feel that she cared… shouldn't have… but did.

She never expected to be in this predicament, but when she thought about it, she really was glad. She was helping someone, someone who desperately needed it. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't flown out to Antarctica and retrieved him. Would he have died there? It wasn't out of reach, especially considering what bad shape he'd been in. Would he have frozen first, or starved? She shuddered, just thinking about it.

After making sure he was still sleeping, she decided to get some things done. The offices were just as deserted as ever, and sitting at her desk on the twelfth floor felt oddly like sitting in the middle of an empty field.

Going through financials and billing paperwork for Veidt Enterprises was a task that was tedious, took an extremely long time to complete, and was supposed to be someone else's job. But considering all the people who usually did that were… M.I.A., it was now Grace's job. She spent at least two hours filling out bills and stamping them with Veidt's signature (everyone who did his paperwork was given a stamp of his signature; getting him to actually sign them all would take until the second Ice Age). And even then, she wasn't even a quarter of the way through them.

She sighed, stretched, and peeked at the clock on her computer; almost 2pm. She grunted, and went to retrieve a cup of coffee from the employee rest lounge. She figured Veidt had to be up by now, and was probably in another meeting of some kind. So, she returned to the paperwork stack on her desk that seemed to be growing larger instead of smaller.

The next bill to be tackled; flight bills. Contrary to popular belief, the rich don't get free rides, even if they own the helicopter. You still have to pay the pilot, pay for fuel, and any maintenance necessary on the aircraft.

Grace's eyes were getting ready to just shrivel up in her eye sockets and eat her brain, when she started noticing a strange trend in the flight records. In the last few months, Veidt had taken consecutive flights to Beijing, Moscow, Los Angeles, Paris… all the cities that were destroyed in Dr. Manhattan's attacks. Her heart sank, and her face flushed hot. Had he known?

However, when turning the page, she realized that there were Pyramid bases in all of those cities, and under the flight records, it read "annual facility check by owner."

And, when she looked at records from previous years, he did exactly the same thing each year, around the same time. She sighed, chastising herself for even considering that he knew about the attacks in advance.

She finished a few more, stamping and typing records into the computer's database. She was just finishing the flight records when two men walked past her desk, talking hurriedly and in hushed tones. She recognized one of them as Mr. Luca, the other executive that had come with them to Antarctica.

"…had a meeting today at 1:30," he was saying.

"And he just didn't show?" the other man asked, and Luca nodded. "That's not like him. He's always prudent about arriving…" the man's voice trailed off as he walked farther away from her desk.

"Shit," she breathed, and rocketed to her feet, her wheeled office chair scurrying backwards as if running away. She set all the papers on her desk, grabbed her key, and ran for the elevator. She was sure people would have considered her crazy, had there been any people around to see her frantically pressing the elevator button and cursing under her breath.

When the elevator arrived, she shoved through the doors before they even opened, and slammed her fist on the twentieth floor button. The doors closed, but nothing happened.

"Damn it," she cursed, and shoved the key into the slot, turning it, and then pressed twenty. Her brain wasn't working correctly with all the worry.

When the elevator stopped, she nearly ran into the doors as they slowly opened.

"Come on," she hissed as they slid open, and she ran in.

"Adrian?" she called, throwing her key onto the coffee table. She ran to his room first, but no Adrian. She then checked both bathrooms, the workout room, the guest room… no sign of him.

She ran back out into the living room, her hand on her forehead as she hysterically tried to think. His bed was neatly made, that meant he had woken up… but where…

That was when she noticed that his bedroom drapes were moving slightly, and light was pouring in.

She practically threw herself back into his bedroom, almost tripping over her own feet as she yanked the drapes back to reveal the open patio doors. At first, as she scanned the balcony, she missed him. But when she looked closer, he was curled into a ball against the railing, hidden in shadow, hands wrapped around his knees.

"Adrian!" she said, and her relief was easily noticeable in her voice. She ran to him and collapsed next to him, laying a hand on his arm. "Mr. Luca said you had a meeting, why didn't you…"

"Alone," he interrupted, his voice shrouded since his head was buried in his knees. "I woke up, completely alone."

Oh, man. He was really falling apart. Now he couldn't be alone?

"I'm sorry, I just figured I'd get some things done. You were sleeping, and…"

He yanked his head up and looked at her, and his face was pure anger. "Do not do that again."

She was speechless. She didn't know how to respond. But she didn't have to. Adrian shoved away from her and stood, walking back to the glass doors. But as he entered his bedroom, he wavered, and fell against the glass door, barely catching himself. She hurried over to him, supporting him. She was about to ask what was wrong, when she noticed the bottle of Lorazepam and another syringe on his bedside table. There appeared to be less in the jar than after he'd taken it last night.

"Oh Adrian, what did you do?" she asked, moving his hair from his face gently.

"I…" his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. "I was panicking, and it wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop… I…" he closed his eyes tight, rubbing his temples with a hand. "It was a smaller dose, so I wouldn't sleep. I just had to make it stop. I had to…" he began repeating himself, and Grace furrowed her eyebrows in pity.

"Shh," she cooed, feeling again reminiscent of her high school babysitting days. "It's okay. I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry."

He just stood there for a moment, then collapsed against her, sobbing tearlessly and gasping for air. "It won't stop. Make it stop," he begged, and then slid down to the floor. She wasn't strong enough to hold up his full weight, so she just let him fall in a heap to the floor, kneeling next to him and wrapping an arm around him.

"It's okay," she said, not knowing of anything else to say. "I'm here now, I won't go anywhere."

She just held him for the longest time, disgusted with herself for bringing him to this. She hated to think that he might be resorting to the Atavan when he didn't know what else to do. But then again, this was Adrian Veidt. He always knew what to do.

Apparently not anymore.