Leftover Alphabet Soup
A/N: So I'm alive. Barely. I think. Ninja C beat me up (she's at my house (dun ask) and is dictating half of this note) for taking so long to post this, and procrastinating. And um, yeah, she won't shut up and let me give my excuse for why it's been pratically a month since "we" last updated. Which is because I'm overstressed lately. And apparently now braindead. Anyways, here is D (finally) and it will probably be the longest chapter in this collab. Just 'cause.
Disclaimer: I think Ninja C stole the rights to Maximum Ride from me, because I can't find them. Or the remote.
D is for: Disobedience
By Akira43
Jeb Batchelder walked as fast as he could without running through the maze of hallways, nervously glancing around as he went. It was supposed to be the most important meeting of the year and he was late. Very late. One hour, twenty-three minutes, and forty seconds late, to be exact. Hopefully no one would mind too much—they knew he had a harder time making it to the meetings since he was watching over the kids. They shouldn't mind too much.
Hopefully.
Jeb reached the large conference room and opened the door slowly, expecting to hear the awkward silence that usually followed an unexpected entrance during the middle of a meeting, and the rustle of fabric as everyone turned to see who it was. But it was silent—even the door was noiseless on its well-oiled hinges.
He slowly entered the room and was surprised to see that the room wasn't actually as empty as its silence implied. The director sat at the large, round conference table facing the door, her hands folded and legs crossed with the guise of patient anticipation.
"Glad you could join me, Dr. Batchelder," she said coolly, and motioned for Jeb to sit down. "I hope the traffic wasn't too terrible on your way over."
"No, not too bad, thank you," Jeb said, nervously clearing his throat. He paused for a moment, scanning the empty room before deciding to ask the question gnawing at him. "Did…did I—"
"No, Dr. Batchelder, you did not miss the meeting," the Director answered his half-finished question, smiling ruefully. "In fact, it's only just begun."
Jeb couldn't hide his perplexion, and the director laughed superficially. "I see you made a mistake in your assumptions when I told you about this meeting last week. You assumed that when I told you it was the most important meeting of the year that it was the most important meeting for the whole facility, when in fact I never said such a thing. No, when I said that it was the most important meeting of the year, Dr. Batchelder, I meant for you."
Jeb had opened his mouth to respond partway through this explanation, but by the end he had completely forgotten what he had wanted to say. Instead he just sat there gaping, only remembering to try to compose himself after several seconds had passed. It was several more seconds before he was able to string enough words together to request an explanation.
"Your role in the latest stage of our Avian-Hybrid experiment is absolutely unique, and also essential to success of the experiment as a whole," the Director began without preamble. "You have done an exceptional job executing it as well, and I am convinced there is not another scientist in this facility that could have done a more exemplary job."
Jeb smiled politely. "Thank you for the compliment, Director; you flatter me. Although I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say 'could have done'?"
"I assure you that your hearing is just fine, Dr. Batchelder," the Director replied, tight-lipped. "This stage is being terminated earlier than scheduled. New plans have been made, previous decisions overruled. I'm sure you understand."
"I'm afraid I don't."
The Director sighed, looking tired and worn out now that she had relaxed her professional façade. Jeb saw for the first time in years the more familiar human side of the woman who had graduated at the very top of their high school class.
"Jeb, you're a great guy, and you've done a great job raising those kids and teaching them how to survive on their own in the real world. That was one of the most important and most fragile steps in this whole experiment. But other people, people who only pretend to understand things, people who have power, well, they don't see things the same way. Some of the things you've taught these kids—or if you didn't teach them, at least allowed them to learn—they consider to be, well, just outright dangerous."
Comprehension dawned on Jeb, mixed with an equal amount of dread. "Oh. They're upset about the bombs, aren't they?"
She nodded slowly, hesitant to agree. "That's part of it. But there's also…" She paused, trying to find the right words.
Jeb waited for her, outwardly patient, but on the inside his gut was twisted in anxiety. "You can just say it," he prompted.
The Director sighed again, looking even more tired. "Things have changed, Jeb. You've changed. And lately, it seems that you've begun to let your job run you instead of you running it."
At that moment, any hope Jeb still had that the whole situation was just a prank, or a bluff designed to make the situation worse than it really was, disappeared. It was all gone, gone like a bird that had flown beyond the horizon. He knew what she meant. The missed meetings, the late reports, negligence of his usual duties, all set aside because he was too busy with the kids. He knew it would come back to bite him one day—he just hadn't expected it to be so soon. And the Director's next words only drove the knife even deeper into his heart.
"Today was supposed to be a final chance," she said quietly, not looking at him. "I asked—no, begged—the higher-ups to give you one last chance, one last opportunity to show you could still be relied upon."
She looked up slowly, and the anguish was clear in her eyes. "That was today, Jeb. Today was that last chance. You were supposed to think that this was a big meeting for everyone. They wanted to see if you really would drop everything to show up on time if it was important enough. But you didn't. You were late—again. And now I'm out of options."
The Director cleared her throat and tried to regain a semblance of professional indifference as she delivered his sentence, the final consequence of his actions.
"Dr. Batchelder, you are hereby on probation from the Itex Corporation for the duration of two years. During this time you are forbidden to participate in any ongoing or initiated research projects. You may not influence these projects in any manner. You are permitted on Itex property during office hours only, and only when you have been given explicit instructions to be present. You will be supervised at all times to ensure that your actions are in compliance with these parameters."
Jeb stood as he prepared to leave, his face carefully blank to conceal his broken emotions. "Is that all?" he asked in a monotone voice.
The Director looked up to meet his gaze, her own face as equally devoid of emotion. "Yes, Dr. Batchelder. That is all. You are dismissed."
"Then I will gather a few things from my office and return to my old quarters." Jeb turned and began to leave, but was stopped just as he put his hand on the door.
"Jeb," the Director said softly, "maybe…maybe in a few years you can see them again. I'll see what I can do."
Jeb smiled sadly to himself, not turning around. "Thank you," he said, filling those two words with all the gratitude he was feeling, then walked out of the room.
He nodded absentmindedly to his colleagues as he navigated the hallways to his long-abandoned office. He wasn't going back home this time. The kids would never know what happened to him. They would think he was dead, and the mere thought of what their devastation would be was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
He had been disobedient, and his disobedience had cost him. As he passed the mirrored windows along the hall, his reflection stared back at him, a broken man.
A/N: And Tassel630 will be typing E is for Everlasting Eggs (credit to lalaland for suggesting eggs--thanks!). This will hopefully be soon, since Ninja C calculated that we're supposed to be on K. Although Tassel is on vacation... this could be bad.
Oh, and we really need suggestions for G. And we'll probably need them for at least up to K, for now. It will help us get caught up faster, so please, please, please start spewing random words. Thank you.