Author's Note: Sorry this is so short. A bit of a transition chapter. The next chapters are a bit more action packed.

Chapter Twelve: Equal Ground

"I'd like a drink." Marla wanted to insist upon the alcohol, but her supposed "date" had other plans.

"You've taken medication that won't mix with it." Lieutenant Verma explained. They were at a booth not at the bar. It upset the young woman to be so far from the commotion. The men were yelling at the sports game on the telly while she laid stranded from the human contact.

Three months had gone by since her interaction with Marcus. In those three months she had slowly gathered data on the augments' where abouts. She had not had any other contact from Harrison or Marcus. There were no signs she was going in the right direction from the breathing augment, however she'd hear whispers about the dreadnought class ship being moments from completion. She'd linked the project to the rumors she heard of a project "beyond Jupiter" if she was to quote her gossipy co-workers.

No one spoke freely around the civilian doctor who merely existed to log in data and do the occasional once over on the weapons she had brought back to life. Whenever Marla would try to instruct the Starfleet officers in the construction of the weapons they'd not take her "opinion" seriously. One officer had gotten his hand nearly burned off by not putting the right metal piece in the right spot. She had told the officer he'd been doing it wrong. They weren't equals though so what did Dr. Marla McGivers know? He was currently enjoying life with two missing fingers.

"How about a club soda?" Verma's voice was becoming extremely irritating.

As an officer she could understand him trying to do his job right. He was meant to make sure she kept healthy. Three months of his job had allowed Marla to be a fit for work, still alive. However the lieutenant's eyes were filled with hopeful intentions. The idea of a friendship was still forming in the young officer's mind, however Marla could also catch him glance over her thin frame. She had gained some weight in the months she had been "looked after" and her sores were slowly disappearing causing her to have a much healthier appearance, which attracted attention from the wrong people. The red head often prayed for a day when the lieutenant wouldn't be so helpful.

McGivers merely nodded her head at the man letting her eyes try to catch the attention of a young cadet at the bar. He didn't look her way. She fluttered her lips placing her ear to the dirty booth. It figured. She wasn't looking for attention, but she was known for looking for attention. Appearances had to be kept despite everything. So every now and then when Verma would take her on a "trip" outside as if she were some sort of animal, she'd flirt with the boys at the bar. Most of the time the lieutenant would look upset, but say nothing. He couldn't really say anything, but drag her back off to her prison, the small office space where a cot was laid out for her, a place where the doors were locked and supervised.

That night things would be different. While Marla found herself not making so many friends she also found herself working out the shifts of guards and the codes that were needed to break out. So when Verma came back with the drink she sipped it. The red head made small talk scratching her flared out red hair around her head. She smiled a while letting Verma think maybe he was growing on her, the steady quips she made to him in the days before planted the idea. It made him comfortable enough to not check his pockets when he put her back in her room.

"Do you ever ask questions, Lieutenant?" Marla wondered as the young Indian officer was locking her in the office. "Wonder why they let me live her and not in my flat? You know I have a flat right?"

"I," He hesitated thinking she'd step closer to him. Instead the former lieutenant McGivers stepped back letting soft red lips spread into a smile. "It's so you don't hurt yourself." He mumbled something under his breath that made her lips fall before whispering a quick "Good night Marla."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Like your father. Were those the words he had said? If so they weren't even close to correct. Marla merely put thoughts of Verma and her father in the back of her mind. She was going to get to them tonight. She knew where Harrison's people were being kept. It was merely a matter of seeing it for herself. She had become friendly enough with Harewood to convince him to get her free. She just had to . . .

The door buzzed snapping open.

"Well that didn't take long." She raised a brow stepping out of the door in flats.

"You sure about this?" The man had a bit of a quiver in his voice. Marla nodded trying to get Harewood to see her smile in the darkness.

"Positive. I can't stand being locked in that room for another minute. I just need a breath of fresh air without a thirty year old over protective officer breathing down my neck." Harewood nodded at her words. "I just need to get something quick before we head out."

"Alright." He assured her before she went in another direction. She was glad all the lights were off.

In the months since Marla had been a civilian Thomas Harewood had been the closest thing she had had to a friend. They bonded over the troublesome diseases they faced in their lives, about the eventual death of loved ones, and about the projects they faced. She had told her new friend that she wanted to see Lucy, a comrade in radioactive poisoning. However being that work controlled her day and the night time locked her up she could not find a time to see Lucy. She managed to get Harewood to suggest the idea of breaking her out to see the child. In truth she suspected Thomas felt bad for her. She had confided in the father that she was stripped of her rank and being looked after because she was considered suicidal, yet valuable to this particular program. She suspected Harewood could understand.

She found the room without a problem. It opened up revealing what she had been yearning for these past three months. Tubes, exactly seventy two of them, lined up all orderly. She walked gingerly into the room noting the absence of lights and camera. That man was brilliant at not knowing which buttons to push to knock just one security system down. The windows of the tubes were frosted over. Marla's hand hovered over the one. Her fingers itched to wipe away the cold to see the face below. She hesitated.

Marla wondered if they'd come in again. If some how they'd know she was here. In that moment the historian could have cared less. The historian in her wiped the glass clean, plans be damned. She had to know. Her proof had its eyes closed, her eyes closed. She was tan in the dark of room. Her lashes were long and black. There wasn't a single imperfection on her face. Her hair was long with heavy bangs that draped over a large forehead. She knew this woman was beautiful and even in sleep she was lethal. Marla took a step back wondering slowly if Harrison had . . .

The fighter, in her, smacked thoughts of relations away. She had to move before Harewood came looking. She fished the communicator from her bra. She had snatched it from Verma. She placed it under the cryotube with the young woman. Despite not having seen Harrison in months she knew through seeing security watching him that he held onto things that he had hacked their system. She had received notes on her computer from him. He had asked her to place a communicator where the rest of his people were being held. There was only business with Harrison. There was no talk of the last time they had seen each other faces, only of their plans.

"I," She slowly let out her breath as she stood looking at the slumbering augment woman. She'd turn the communicator on once she said her peace."I haven't spoken to anyone truthfully in months." She was addressing a three hundred year old sleeping woman. Marla McGivers was talking to something that couldn't respond back yet she didn't seem silly. She didn't feel silly at all. "Somehow I've realized I haven't truthfully been myself in a long time. Not since him. Not since . . . John." She wouldn't say his name. Not now. And perhaps not ever. "I know he's your captain and you'd follow him to the bitter end. And I know we aren't equals," She paused before furrowing her face. "No, we are. We are equals."

Marla felt stupid. She was arguing with herself over something trivial, but she needed to let this go. Let it go before she couldn't stand herself anymore.

"You were born an equal to him." She swallowed feeling a cough coming on. Her eyes watered instead. "I earned my place. I earned my freedom. I earned the right to have him as I did. My plans were well laid and my life, if it should end now, was well spent." She then realized tears were streaming down her face yet no cough was lingering. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment.

"I got to see the face of an old age." She paused for a moment. "And a new age. I've earned what comes to me either way. But there is not a drop of blood or single tear that will tear me away from what I believe in because seeing the past alive again . . . well . . . it may just be enough to keep me going as well." She bent down to turn the communicator on before realizing it had been on the whole time. Her face reddened for a moment before she exhaled. "And please disregard everything I just said, Special Agent Harrison."

Embarrassment was a good word to hold in her heart in that moment however there was no room for it. She exited the room with a deep sigh before heading toward one of the desks. She picked up the book she had written from a co-worker's desk. Harewood looked nervous when she approached him.

"A book?" He asked. "She's in a coma. Lucy won't be able to read it."

"I know." Her voice was soft. "But it's proof. She can live on."