"It's not working," Imogene barked, letting her clipboard fall against the table with a resounding slap.
The mousy little doctor jumped at the sudden intrusion, blinking up at Imogene uncertainly.
"Wha-"
"The serum. She's not following the prompts. It's supposed to be easier than this."
"It's working," she replied hastily, turning to tap on the nearest keyboard before swivelling a screen towards Imogene. "See? It's working. Her levels are far beyond what we normally administered."
"Well, give her more." She frowned at the screen. "And check these readings. That cannot be right."
"We can't give her more, she'd... she'd..."
"She'd what?"
"She'd go insane!" the younger woman burst out emphatically.
Imogene raised an eyebrow.
"It'd pull out too many details, the human mind wouldn't come out the other side intact."
"She's not human."
"She's human enough. Please, just... just try again. Direct her thoughts more closely."
"What would you suggest then?"
Carla swallowed and straightened her back.
"Ask exactly what you want to know, word for word. No flouncing and make her look you in the eye. She has to really be forced to focus."
Imogene pursed her lips, looking up and over the monitors to where their captive lay shivering and barely conscious on her gurney. The images on the screen beside the window were of a bright party, faces whizzing by until one laughing face took centre stage. It was hazy though, barely distinct through her dreamlike state and the increased level of sedatives. In an hour she'd be ready for a fresh attempt.
Smiling, Imogene turned. She had time for a coffee first and yet another set of clothes.
"Helen, be a dear," Rose said sweetly, holding out yet another slip of paper. Her eyes were dancing merrily as she reclined on the couch. She was the picture of opulence, dark brown curls barely held in place by combs that cost more than Helen's dress. She adored their new friend but tonight, she was a little less than pleased with her.
Sighing heavily, Helen snatched the paper and stalked across the room. It wasn't that she was jealous of Rose, exactly. It was more than her stunning green gown and carefree attitude made Helen feel shabby uptight. She had always been the one who paid no attention to convention, she was always the one who got sniffed at because she was cavorting, unchaperoned with several young men.
It was odd to be regaled to the sidelines.
Of course, she was overjoyed that Josep- Rose, had come tonight. For once she had a female friend who understood not only her line of work but didn't condemn her for the choices she had made. Yes, she always had a doting fiancé by her side but it really wasn't the same as female company. Plus, more than that, John was becoming more and more demanding of her time. It was almost frustrating to have to give up certain acquaintances to soothe him but she couldn't hold it against him. He'd given her more than she had ever expected AND understood her scientific passions.
It was still strange to think of herself as a fiancé. They'd been engaged for almost two full years now and really, aside from sharing a bed, surprisingly little had changed in her life. John had agreed to wait until her father returned before they married just as she had agreed to his request that he be allowed to establish his practice properly first.
In all honesty, being a fiancé suited Helen more than she ever thought being a wife would. It gave her freedom but marked her as taken, allowing for her to flit about social and scientific circles without fear of inappropriate behaviour. Mostly.
You shall make the most fetching of brides, a pleased little voice sing-songed. Helen shook her head at Rose's interruption of her thoughts. Ever since they'd realised Helen's sensitivity to these mental explorations, the other woman had been working at stealthier invasions.
However I can think of far more alluring and intelligent grooms.
Helen glared over her shoulder at where Rose was laughing prettily at something Nigel had said. The man was well past drunk and lurching towards bosoms like a man in a desert. If he hadn't made a pass at her, Helen would have thought it rather funny.
Rose's attention flicked for the briefest moment over to Helen, rolling her eyes before she went back to smiling at Nigel's rather bawdy sense of humour.
A prickle of annoyance shot up Helen's spine and she set her shoulders, half marching across the ballroom. She'd been headed this way which was entirely why Rose had asked her deliver the note but she had half a mind to turn around and head back.
Rose, for all the entertainment and wonder she was able to provide, was a pain and a half.
Quickly, Helen flicked open the note in her hand, sighing as she realised, once again, they were writing in Serbian. For all Nikola had worked to teach her, it was still a language she struggled with. Looking closely, she studied each word, searching her brain for any word she could recognise.
Ha! One word!
Јелена.
Again Helen frowned. That was her name. She scanned the note three more times before coming to the conclusion that none of the other words were familiar to her. Curse Rose, she thought bitterly. The woman had only been with them a month and already she'd mastered a language Helen had for so long struggled with. Plus she and Nikola had become fast friends and, Helen occasionally suspected, possibly more.
A fresh bolt of rage surged through her and Helen screwed up the note in her fist. Striding across the room, she all but glared at Nikola who seemed a little taken aback at her reaction. He blinked uncertainly at her, shuffling forwards as she continued her approach.
"Helen?" he asked softly, reaching an arm out to her but Helen shrugged him off, thrusting the note at his chest. He captured her hand before she could pull away and used the contact to drag her closer.
"Stop using me as a messenger," she half growled, not fighting his grip as fervently as she should.
"You were coming over here to find John anyway," he tried soothingly.
Glaring up at Nikola, she pulled away hastily, letting the note fall to the floor before sweeping around and storming towards where John and James were happily chatting away. James noted her approach but didn't speak or lose his distinctly amused air even as she fell ungraciously into the space beside John.
"Is something the matter?" he fiancé asked and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. John, for all his sweetness could be painful oblivious at times.
"I feel like a carrier pigeon," she said with a sigh, leaning against John's shoulder. They may have been in public but she was so frustrated that not even the fear of potential investors seeing her pout could stop her from taking some liberties with her fiancé.
"You are far more beautiful," John said warmly, looking down at her with twinkling eyes and she felt another prickle of irritation at him. She didn't want to be called beautiful right now, she wanted to moan and complain and whine about the way Nikola and Rose had been using and abusing her all evening. She wanted to growl about the fact that she'd never had an excuse to turn down their entreaties because John and James had holed themselves up over here.
"I think I'll go for a walk," she said, standing up quickly. John stood with her, an arm around her waist lightly.
"What is it?" he asked again softly.
Helen smiled up at him, finally feeling at ease thanks to his presence.
"It is nothing," she assured him. John frowned but released her.
"Come back to me soon," he told her, stroking one cheek gently and she shivered. He smiled down at her before darting in to press a soft kiss to her lips. Helen gasped at his forwardness but didn't pull away, swaying into his chest.
Only when James' chuckle broke into her reverie did she remember where they were and pull away, blushing.
"I'll be back shortly," she said, clearing her throat and walking away on unsteady legs. It wouldn't do to dwell on the look of victory in John's eye, it would only lead to her turning and waltzing straight back to him which wouldn't do considering the very private nature of what she wished him to do.
Instead she made her way outside, breathing in the cool night air. The moon was high in the sky, casting a bright light over the wide porch she stood on. It wrapped around the entire house, scattered with chairs and tables that, on a summer evening, Helen might be tempted to sit in. As it was, she was already starting to feel the cold seeping through her pale pink lace dress. It was a beautiful garment but not one for this temperate, she decided, wrapping her arms around her torso.
It was then she heard a noise, a soft scuffle followed by a giggle and a half hearted attempt at shushing the giggler. Turning her head, Helen let loose a little gasp as she noticed a nearby couple, locked in an amorous embrace.
The soft sound of kisses filled the air for a moment before the couple pulled apart slightly and, based on their shadows, turned to look at her.
"Helen?" Nikola's voice came, filled with incredulity.
"Oh God," Helen half moaned, turning on her heel with the intent of dashing away but before she could take more than two steps, a hand closed around her wrist.
"I'm sorry," Nikola said hurriedly, tugging her towards him but she refused to give up her retreat.
"Let her go, Nikki," came Rose's voice.
"No," he said rather fiercely, pulling even more firmly on her arm.
"She's right," Helen spat, glaring at her old friend again. Nikola shook his head, his expression unreadable as he tugged and pulled at Helen until they disappeared around the corner.
When finally he released her, Helen had to physically restrain herself from hitting him. If only she had her gun...
"Now say it," he told her gruffly, voice darker than she'd ever heard. "Say what it is that's got you acting like this."
"I... I don't know what you mean," she told him curtly.
"Helen..."
"Oh leave me be, Nikola," she said angrily. "Go back to your little 'friend' and ruck up her skirts."
She made to turn but he grabbed her again, turning them until she was pressed against the wall. She tried to fight his grip but he was too strong, his inhuman grip almost bruising.
"So this is about Rosie?" he asked angrily, eyes flashing.
"It has nothing to do with Rosie," Helen sneered.
"I have to watch you and John cavorting about, playing the happy couple," he said and she froze. Silence fell as she tried to process the hidden meaning in his statement.
"I like her, Helen," he said softly after a beat. "Not as much as I like you but... She understands me."
Helen sagged in his grip.
"Can you not give me this?"
And then suddenly she was kissing him. He didn't start it, he wasn't the one to close the distance between them but he didn't pull back. His grip turned on her arms from restraining to pulling her closer, one arm slipping around her waist as the other cradled her cheek. Helen's hands, however, fisted in his jacket, holding him in place.
It was just like back when they first became friends, the desperate need she'd often felt to kiss him or to be kissed by him. They'd experimented with each other, caressing and kissing in dark corners until they were both breathless. He was her best friend back then, he was the one who gave her this chance. He was the one who had stopped them the few times they'd taken it too far. She could still remember the feel of his hands on her thighs, the way his hands had trembled as she urged him on, the way he'd pant against her neck.
Suddenly he pulled back, gasping for breath. He stumbled back a few steps and Helen fell against the wall.
"I... I..." he tried.
Helen cleared her throat.
"Don't be sorry," she told him softly. Suddenly all her anger was gone, most of the resentment with it. She reached out and cupped his cheek. "Don't be sorry."
He nodded, wide eyed and she smiled, stepping back and heading back towards the party.
It was foolish and vain and horribly immature but she smiled.
He still wanted her.
Mrrrrgh. Just realised I put things up in the wrong order. Poo. But I read over it all and it seems to flow well enough. I hope.
xx
