Author's Note: I'm really sorry this took so long to get up here. I promise everyone this story is not abandoned. Finals ate away at my soul and before I knew it I was drowning in work! I've written an outline for the entire story and believe me this story is far from over! I hope this installment was worth the wait.
Chapter Eleven: Separation Anxiety
"What in the hell were you thinking, McGivers?!" There was no formality in Marcus' tone.
Marla knew it would be that way. Yesterday had been the last time she had seen John Harrison. Today she was abruptly called into the Starfleet meeting room two levels up where Marcus had phoned in from Starfleet headquarters. She stared at the projected head of Admiral Alexander Marcus on a screen in the empty board room. She had on the same outfit from yesterday. She hadn't washed it. It still smelled of sex and Harrison. She was proud of her conquest.
"What did you expect?" She crossed her legs in her seat folding her hands and sitting up straighter. "Putting a historian in a room with a living specimen, well, I was bound to take a look." His eyes narrowed when she smiled.
"As a Starfleet officer-"
"Well I'm not technically a Starfleet officer anymore, Admiral." She wanted to keep him as frustrated as possible. The worse she could push him the better. Marla had to make him know she was merely a woman with needs and a smart mouth. Not one who had ulterior motives to heal herself and let the history out to repeat itself. "I've been on leave for almost six months now." Six months of forming a bond with John Harrison.
"You know protocol." His jaw clenched. "Office relations are –" She laughed. The red head didn't mean to, but the word relations as a representation of what Harrison and her had was humorous. Symbiotic, yes, but not an office romance. "They are not to bleed into the work place especially with someone as dangerous as Harrison."
"You put me in the room with him, Sir." Marla made sure she didn't look sexual in any part of her, but her face. "What did you think was going to happen when he got his hands on a woman? He's been in on that ship for a long time. From what I understand the augments had insatiable sexual appetites. I'm surprised he held out so long." It was a lie. Augments did desire sex, but it was only a desire that labored strong in their bodies. The mind was the focus of these super men and women. Sex was only a release for them.
"I thought he would kill you." There it was. The truth. Marla swallowed trying to appear shocked. Marcus' smile hinted that her acting was quite good. "I'd see his savagery in full swing if that happened. Pity I didn't."
"I suppose you did in some fashion." Marla pulled off a nervous laugh.
She was still sore. Her dreams had been empty that night which saddened her. She had wanted to recall sex with an augment with satisfaction however when she remembered his touch all she could remember was how painful he had been inside her. Yet when she became more engrossed in the memory little bits of pleasure would sweep her. The pain still held a strong place in her mind.
"This isn't over, Lieutenant." That was good, hearing the formality in his tone. She wanted that. They needed that. She didn't want to leave the project so soon.
"Getting screwed by Harrison wasn't enough to get me out, Admiral?" Her surprise was mock, but still realistic.
"Your expertise is still required." Marla suddenly felt scared by his tone. As if he were judging her harshly, as if he could somehow weed into her true intentions, find the too obvious links.
"How many more 20th century weapons are there to restore?" Marla let a breath out lowering her nerves that were building slightly. His next words didn't help.
"You are here Dr. McGivers to analyze Harrison become a distraction for him. You have done that to the extremes. We've seen all you can offer him and us." His eyes slightly became lost from her face, looking past her at something far and vacant. Marla knew that look. Her father sometimes gave her that look when he was about to speak of the past or his crazy thoughts. "But this project is far from over and we cannot let you leave. Not after what you have discovered." He was still her death. Still sealing her fate.
"Do you intend to keep me hostage here?" She swallowed letting her heart race. She hid her smile. The rapid beating of her heart was not nerves, but excitement. She could do more for the augments if she was forced to stay in this place.
"Not hostage, Lieutenant." Marcus seemed so smug. "You're free to go whenever you please." She raised a brow as Marcus seemed to look down slowly at what appeared to be his desk. "However it would not benefit Dr. David McGivers and Martin McGivers if you were to abandon your work. Your brother still resides at 2213 Shannon Drive in San Francisco, California, correct? Not far from headquarters it seems. Maybe I should pay him a visit." The mention of her brother's name slightly startled Marla. It was a good reaction to have.
"If you say so." Marla said slowly. "I haven't seen to my brother in nearly a year." It didn't mean the woman didn't love her brother. She just found herself drawing away from him since their mother had died though she had withdrawn herself from many things since then. David had learned of her illness and attempted to coax her into moving to California with him and his wife, Cassandra. He had wanted to take care of her, but Marla had already accepted her fate. Again David could not understand why she refused to take his advice as he could not understand his mother's actions with their father.
"I know you've been visiting your father." Chills curled through Marla's core. Marcus wouldn't harm her father. Though the more she let those words, harm and father, play in her head the more she realized that Marcus would probably love to harm a man who allegedly attempted to bomb this very building. She twisted her father's ring around her finger.
"I have your attention now, don't I?" Marla let her eyes lock with Marcus. Smug, overconfident Marcus. She'd let him feel that way with a slight nod. "Good. We still have work to do. Data to log in from your experiences with Harrison. We are duplicating your weapons as well. Instruction is required."
"And when all this is over? What then Admiral will you do with me?" She thought of Harrison when her eyes fluttered closed. Her arms crossed against her chest.
"You will be able to go peacefully, Ms. McGivers." She hated his tone. She hated how he addressed her. No longer was she an equal. He was revealing his hand, how he thought of her. She was a pawn in his game being pushed around until she broke apart. The innuendo was right on the surface. The meaning was clear. Marcus would allow her to die if her disease hadn't eaten away at her yet. "For now you will have the best medical care and a cushiony seat for the next six months, but seeing as you refuse to act like a Starfleet associate you will no longer hold ranking. You will simply be a civilian woman with a doctoral in history who was called in to help the agency. Records wiped clean." Another six months working while she would die slowly, but now Marla had a purpose, something to find in the walls of the archive.
Once the conversation with Marcus was over the doors opened to reveal a face she had not seen in a long time. Lieutenant Verma was smiling. Her eyes widened though she couldn't smile. She didn't want to smile. Someone who had just been threatened did not smile. Her solemn expression and slight surprise was enough to keep her from falling over.
"Are you to lead me to my next assignment Lieutenant?" She found a crack in her voice. Was she actually breaking from the threat? She soon realized her jaw was clenched. No this was anger. She was angry this so called Admiral would threaten her. Be able to sit in his chair on the other side of an ocean and say to her that her father was under surveillance.
"You're to report to the weapons' bay, Lieu- I mean – Doctor." He turned abruptly and began walking.
"Should I strip of my uniform? Seeing as I am no longer a Starfleet officer." She chuckled slightly as she followed him to the elevator. Verma looked her over. She noted his reaction at her body. His eyes lingered longer on the curves then Harrison's did.
"I don't think that would be necessary." He half choked the response. Perhaps she could use his uneasiness. However she chose to ride the elevator with the Lieutenant in silence.
Once they arrived where they were required to be Marla let out a breath as if she had been holding it in forever. Verma caught her before she knew she was falling. He gave a nervous grin as his long finger nails scrapped her bare arms.
"Admiral gave me strong instructions." He led her somewhere. There was a desk. It was black. Things were going bleary. She clutched the desk as he spoke. She heard the familiar rattle of oval blue capsules. "These are to be taken twice a day. Six hours in between." He went on calling up the six different medications that were to keep her alive. Verma told her he was to help her in remembering to take them. Marla looked to him with glassy eyes. It only meant he was there to keep her alive. Make sure she didn't kill herself by refusing care.
"I'll be here to take care of you." The young woman wanted to push him away and run to San Francisco. Somehow she would run there and strangle Marcus. Bash his head in with her bare hands if she needed to. Verma went on about how her work needed to be done. Cataloging her progress for Marcus on how each weapon functioned. The young Indian man was gone before Marla realized it.
She looked at the screen finding it bleary. Her fingers reached to her side feeling for the bottle of grayish big piles. The clattered against the glass surface rolling, but did not fall to the floor. She noticed another presence, however this person was not Verma. The dark skinned man was smiling. She could see that at least. He rolled a chair up to her to sit. She settled in the cushioned seat as he popped the bottle open. He placed the pill in her hand. She nodded before reaching for a glass of water that had already been on the desk.
"You really shouldn't be allowed to be here." The man said. Marla swallowed her pill knocking back her head as she downed her water. Once she swallowed deeply she looked to him once more. "You're sick."
"That obvious?" She felt her lips curve into a well needed smile.
"Not just sick," He shook his head. "Very sick." She saw his eyes go to her hair line. "Radioactive poisoning." Marla looked him over. His face was round with a slight innocence to him. He looked to be around her age yet he had aged lines to him. She taped her index finger on the glass black desk where her father's ring clicked. She knew him. "I believe you know my daughter and my wife, Dr. McGivers. I saw you when we went to the same doctor some months ago."
"Harewood, Lucy." She recalled the child. The little girl barely had any signs of the disease with a smile full of missing teeth. "I remember." Marla had thought it odd that such a young child would be at the doctor's office of a man who specialized in radioactive diseases. "Is she doing alright?" Children shouldn't suffer a death sentence so early in life. Lucy could not be older than seven. Harewood stood firm like a true military man, however his face faltered. "I suppose as good as me then."
"She's . . . bed ridden. Sleeps a lot. Like when she was a baby. She's a good girl. Holding in there." He looked through Marla's pills. "She took a lot of these when she could swallow properly. Now they just put the medicine in her IV." She saw his hands shake only slightly. The man then looked to Marla. "Why are they making you work here? You should be resting. You look like –"
"Hell?" Marla nearly laughed. "What can I say? I'm a workaholic." It was a lie, but she thought Harewood believed her. "I don't think I caught your name."
"Thomas Harewood."
"Hello Thomas." She was tired of formalities. She wasn't a Starfleet agent anymore. "I'm Marla McGivers. Former Starfleet Lieutenant and Doctor of 20th century history. Specialization in weapons. Mostly in the restoration. It's a hobby of sorts." The man was taken aback.
"You always introduce your credentials to people you've just met?" He almost seemed concerned. Marla merely looked to the entry on her screen. A blank page blinked at her sharply.
"Not always." She smiled slowly. Harewood looked her over slightly almost marveling Marla's appearance.
"Lucy refused to cut her hair. Said she didn't want to look like a boy. Now it's just in these long strips." He mimicked the hair strand against his own face sliding his hand down his cheek to his shoulders.
"I don't blame her." The woman smiled. "I've been putting the hair cut off for months now. Finally got up the courage to do it. I move around too much. I was finding hairs everywhere."
"She's stubborn. Rima says she gets it from me." He laughed slightly before looking to Marla. "You were on the Reliant when it malfunctioned."
"From what I understand, Officer Harewood so were your wife and daughter." Marla had studied the ship very carefully. She knew all that were infected by the leak. All in engineering had died however some radioactivity had leaked into the rooms. "Your wife was in her lab. One of the five botanist we had on board. Your daughter was asleep in the room she shared with your wife. Neither of you didn't realize it had affected her until later." She was sorry for him. Sorry to work with someone for could feel sorry for. Sorrow was a weakness in the eyes of all augments. However Lucy was young. She was innocent. She didn't deserve a death like the one she was suffering.
"She must be on the best treatment to survive for so long." Thomas Harewood nodded as she spoke. "I wish her well."
"I'll leave you to your work then, Doctor McGivers, but if you need anything I work only a few desks away." She watched as he walked away wanting to tell him how much she didn't need anyone's help.
She turned to look at her screen wondering if Harewood knew. If Harewood knew that he was working for the man who had caused his daughter's slow death. She stared at the screen letting herself breath before letting her hand connect with the key board. She wanted to write something profound about her experience perhaps something about the weapons she had restored. However her fingers worked against her will. She looked up at the screen seeing the words becoming completely frustrated with herself. How was she going to concentrate on her work when all she could write was:
John Harrison is the only one I can trust.