Long time coming, but alas...It's here!...And I hate this chapter. No seriously, I do. I've rewritten it nearly a dozen times and though I liked certain aspects, it was a struggle... Because I'm HG bias I wonder if it's her fault I hate it. Then again, at this point I wish like hell I had King's or even Rowling's prowess. *shrugs* There's two cameo appearances – hopefully it's the last crossover characters (I'm selfish, I rather not use self created characters for ff) – and..
If you guess who the British man is based on (movie/person), you win a role in an upcoming though distant chapter.
THANKS for READING/FOLLOWING/COMMENTING! And Community ADD? (just noticed it, Freaked COMPLETELY OUT!) THANKS! I adore all feedback. If you hate it too, don't be afraid to vent. I find that idea humorous. :)
Happy end of Ramadan!
Anyone else looking forward to the beginning of school?
ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE!
DON'T OWN DON'T SUE. ESPECIALLY DON'T OWN A CERTAIN POPULAR RAP SONG THAT'S HIGHLY ANNOYING!
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SNATCH CHAPTER 16
Liang's Hot Pot –Night leading into Previous Chapter
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"James MacPherson."
There was a three beat pause then HG repeated the name as if she was giving it a taste.
"The James MacPherson."
Her lips caressed his last name in a near seductive purr, but the following grimace was she'd tasted something sour. As her eyes were sole on the heiress, the other woman's skin rankled along her neck and she felt as if she were a butterfly trapped between two sharp pins. The heiress terror stricken heartbeat rose as her survival instincts had kicked in, and her senses sharpened – most notably, her ears. Underneath the erratic patter of her heart, the downstairs drunken karaoke was on full blast, all of the cheering revelers unbeknownst to the human terrors pacing the floor just above their heads.
Myka Bering, billionaire heiress, kidnapped, un-restrained hostage was sitting before both human terrors wide eyed and defenseless.
If I'm murdered now, would they even hear my screams?
Much to her chagrin, it seemed as if the karaoke became louder. She could now distinguish the lyrics to a popular rap song blasting through the walls–
I'm so fancy… You already know. I'm in the fast lane. From L.A. to Tokyo
I'm so fancy... Can't you taste this gold?!
Remember my name
'Bout to blo-O-ow!
If someone told the heiress that a Traditional Hot Pot restaurant doubled as a hip-hop Karaoke joint afterhours, she would've doubled over laughing. Now that she was witness to such an event, her reaction was much different as it was buried under fright tense skin. Her obvious discomfort only seemed to feed the asinine smirks blooming on her captor's faces.
That Myka Bering was still alive at this point was a complete utter mystery to the young accomplice as the murder gleaming in her associates eyes was unsettling even to her. To dispel some of the negative energy, as well as the excess steam from the boiling pot, Claudia edged her way to the window and opened it. A cool breeze filtered through the rooms street facing window, bringing with it a distant scent of sticky bean cakes and dumplings from the kitchens below. The scent turned the heiress' nerve hinged stomach, she clenched her jaw to hold down its contents.
"Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to James?" breaking the silence, a long half minute that it was, HG quirked a brow, "Calling him by his first name, one would assume you two must be quite chummy."
The heiress watched her captor with a hint of disbelief on her face.
"For the record the last time I actually spoke with Macpherson was over a decade ago when I was what? Eighteen years old?" Myka dared a glance towards the weapon at the woman's waist. "Is there a problem? Cause if there is, I want to be the first to know about it."
Claudia's voice nervously clicked in the corner.
"Myka, I don't think you should–
HG cut her off, "Oh, no, she's right darling. If there is a problem she should know about it. There's no point in keeping things secret is there, we're all adults in here. Right ladies?"
The accomplice frowned at the statement but closed her mouth. Her eyes went to the silent brunette sitting at her side and she saw the green eyed woman looked indignant and all the more confused.
"Myka, do you even understand what MacPherson does?" Claudia softly inquired.
Annoyance marred the heiress face she directed towards the younger woman, "Of course, I know what MacPherson does, I worked with him for an entire year. He was trying to reinvent the industry by creating a type of super sustainable polymer," she paused chancing a glance at the other captor, "The idea was that it would work as good as steel but be more resourceful to the environment as it would have more value recycled and would breakdown more organically," she shrugged as she added, "That's part of why dad hated him so much, he said only a fool would try to play silly putty against real steel."
After laughing at her own memory, the heiress settled back against her seat with her arms folded around her middle and a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Neither of the captors looked impressed. In fact, the redhead looked slightly embarrassed.
"Right, and your positive you don't want to buy another vowel Skippy?" Claudia said.
"Excuse me?" Myka asked, deeply confused.
"I think she's referring to the fact you've sorely missed the mark darling." HG supplied.
"How so?" Myka's face crinkled as her patience was wearing thin, "I was there, and believe me when I say, I do not miss details."
Very briefly, HG turned internally to reflect on the soundness of this statement. During the course of their surveillance, they'd noticed a few quirks about the heiress that proved this to be fact. Despite giving up her career in law, it wasn't uncommon for old acquaintances and references to seek out Myka's help to review cases just to see if she could find something they'd missed. In each instance they'd witnessed, she'd indeed discovered some loophole or uncovered some hidden truth that everyone else simply overlooked. Seeing how bright and thorough of a lawyer Myka Bering was, it was genuinely disheartening to know that she turned her back on the career.
"You always did have a thing for the intellects."
A disembodied voice remarked, its intrusion caused HG to jolt. In the split second it occurred, she glanced around wildly for it's owner, the motion didn't go missed by the rooms other occupants.
"You OK over there Gee?" Claudia said.
"Perfect darling," HG murmured.
That smirk on her lips faltered and turned mysteriously blank. Witness to the change, the heiress was having a hard time gathering a read on it at this point, so she reverted towards the redhead. Claudia's jaw was clenched and she was glaring begrudgingly at her accomplice. Out of them both, the heiress understood her will to be far weaker and therefore easier to break. For that she gave it a shot.
"What's going on?" Myka inquired.
The younger woman narrowed her eyes at her mentor then shifted onto the heiress. Her youthful face sobered as she explained.
"It was an arms race," a breath for them both, "MacPherson built weapons and sourced them illegally to third world countries. He was making big bucks on the black market while your father, Bering and Sons Corp was only making the margin selling refined steel for the creation of said weapons in the open."
"Oh." Myka said, blinking once. Her mind was whirring as it connected the dots placed before her, she found herself dust blown over the edge. "Oh my god…There never was a polymer, was there?" she gasped.
"The "polymer" was a hoax to drive up the market," HG replied. "Though there's a possibility it does tangibly exist, there was no need for its genuine fruition at the time simply because the thought alone was enough to make traditionalist investors like your father and all his friends sweat."
The other woman's input caused Myka's lip to curl indignantly, "How do you know that exactly?" she said. "What type of sicko does something like that? People placed their trust in that project, they invested their money in that work!"
"I would know because apparently, I'm the sicko who came up with the idea." HG remarked.
The heiress' gapping mouth snapped shut, a slight flush went onto her cheeks. There was a brief silence as she weighed the idea in her head, when she finally spoke again her voice was delicate with uncertainty.
"But you worked for us at that time, you were a spy?"
Her expression as cool as a moonlit spring, and just as profound, HG calmly sipped her cup of tea before raising her eyes to meet those of the heiress. To one who knew her well, the change in her demeanor was noticeable. HG swiped a free lock of her hair behind her ear then roughly cleared her throat, some of her bravado appeared to have dimmed as she explained, "Very briefly I worked for him, Mr. MacPherson, as I worked for you father. In that sense I was a traitor but the work I did for MacPherson was considered freelance…He needed an engineer who understood several different disciplines to provide input here and there on certain idea's he'd developed. Your father on the other hand allowed me to toy with creation as I pleased and if he liked the idea enough, permitted me to make it a reality but on his terms."
"And yet you have the nerve question my motives in this," the heiress guffawed, pointing wildly at herself in the making, "You've got to be kidding me!"
HG's face ticked, "Considering the facts I don't see why not. With your eidetic memory is it really shocking that your father would've encouraged you to work for MacPherson, his known rival? Just how detailed were your recounts?" her face hardened with suspicion, "Were you a worthy storyteller or did they put the board to sleep?"
Myka's furrowed brows deepened, she looked righteously offended.
"What? You're not implying that my father was using me as a mole is you?" she said.
"If not that, then what else am I implying Bering?" HG cheekily replied.
"Guys…" Claudia began.
The redhead's warning barely registered as Myka was furious. "If it means this much to you, the work I did with MacPherson was open to the public, you could look up the records and see it right now, it wasn't a big secret, thanks to his recommendation I was even matched on Ph.D level to do farther research, I turned the offer down because –
"–Because it was nothing serious." HG finished.
There was an edge of sarcasm in her tone that rubbed the heiress in all the wrong places. As her first thought was to wring the other woman by her neck, Myka had to physically reel herself inwards to keep from exploding. That fact in itself was surprising to her as very rarely had she lost control over her emotions like that, Myka Bering didn't know what got into her to make her even consider such violence.
"Again, how does that matter? People change their minds all the time. You can't possibly hold that against me." the heiress managed.
"It matters because people are dying out there because of what MacPherson and your father were doing," there was something daring in her captor's eyes, Myka felt as the slow heat in her veins rose to a broil, "Yet here you are, someone who could've made a difference at the time but either you were too naïve, too inconsiderate, or simply too stupid to even notice what was going on around you."
At those biting words, the green eyed woman face contorted and her patience finally cracked. She exasperatedly tossed her hands into the air and raised her voice.
"You know what, I've had enough of this. What the hell's your problem?" the green eyed woman face contorted. "Why bring me into this if you obviously don't trust me being here? Why didn't you just leave me tied up? Or even better why didn't you just drug me and lock me in a suitcase?"
"That definitely sounds about right mind to me." HG darkly replied.
"OK… Ok, fraking- KAY! Guys CALM DOWN!" Claudia clapped her hands twice to gain their attention, had their glares been actual daggers there surely would've been several pools of blood everywhere, "I think now's a good time we all just chill out and finish dinner….HG?" she said her mentor's name pleadingly. The woman's hold on the glass of water so tight it appeared it would break. "You're the one who just got back shouldn't you take a breather before the next phase? Enjoy the R & R while we can?"
The concern in her voice wasn't missed by the heiress and the mystery as to why HG disappeared in the first place instantly resurfaced in her mind. Curiosity being her stronger suite, Myka pushed aside her frustration to actually take a moment and examine the woman before her. Aside from the fact she was edgier than usual, something was off about her. The fury ebbed from her pose and her defensive stance weakened, as the concern quickly rose within the heiress.
"Something happened?" Myka cautiously asked, she glanced between the captor pair. "What happened?"
"Who said something happened? Nothing happened. Nothing at all." Claudia sputtered.
The younger's response only made things all the more worse. Myka stood up and inclined her head towards her captor. The woman's face was closed off again, but from the way her eyes looked everywhere but at the heiress, she appeared to be uncomfortable.
"But where were you yesterday? Why didn't you come back after the rental?" Myka asked.
"That's none of your concern." The captor muttered.
"Same thing I told her." Claudia said.
"But…why come I got stuck going into the bank then? If nothing happened to you," Myka purposefully emphasized the word, "Couldn't we have just waited until you got back and you went in yourself?"
"That's quite an observation there Ms. Bering," HG said.
"Well I did say I didn't lack in observation department Ms. Wells," Myka countered.
Tearing her gaze away from the infuriating woman, HG sprung to her feet. She roughly sat the cup she was holding off to the side of the table as she grabbed a tablet and a jacket. She didn't know where the things were so she had to shuffle backwards and grab a forgotten item or two off of the table as she searched through the messy notes scattered about. The redhead was dancing on the balls of her feet as she watched, when HG went to the door she followed close at her heels.
"Now where are you going?" Claudia asked.
Door wide open, the encore of Fancy was playing louder than ever. Across the hall on the wall was a sign with multilingual words on it, the English words read, Relaxing Massage, a directional arrow pointed left. Body half turned in the direction of the arrow, HG spared a glance over her shoulder at the heiress then met her accomplice's eye.
"Don't let her out and don't touch anything stupid." she growled.
"But you just got back," the redhead exasperated, grabbing onto her mentor's arm, "You can't just leave me again!"
The words had come out so desperate and needy, even the young girl herself was taken aback. She clamped a hand to her mouth and released her hold on the other woman's arm. HG herself was frozen in place as if she was caught. Seconds passed before the older woman blinked and rather quickly, slammed the door behind. Claudia's hand went towards the knob then stilled. She turned around angrily with her hand pressed to her mouth. The heiress could see even from where she stood that the young girls' eyes were tearing up and she looked lost. Myka slowly eased forwards, her arms readying just in case she needed to catch or comfort the hurt looking girl.
"Are you alrigh–
"Don't!"
The single gesticulation was accented with Claudia jerking backwards and tossing both her hands in the air. She turned a glare onto the heiress that to her surprise, was worse than the dominant captor's.
"You heard her, just sit your bony-ass down on that couch and don't touch anything!"
Grudgingly obedient, Myka backed all the way to the couch the redhead had referred to and sat down with her hands clasped. She never took her eyes off the redhead and though the younger girl was ignoring her, she was certain she could practically feel the bore of her glare on her shoulders.
Just what in the hell did I get myself into?
~~.~~
There was a time that HG Wells was synonymous with certainty.
She never doubted herself, even on the toughest projects, and at times it was sheer confidence alone that ensured whatever she was doing was saw to its end.
But now…
Confusion and distrust swirled around the captor as she paced the black tar of the roof. Her hands were shoved deep inside of her pockets and her chin was tucked inside of her shirt. As she stood now, she was privy to the midnight world below- drunks stumbling out of the karaoke bar and retching on the side of the walk, women in short skirts and far too much makeup on the town, young people – college age perhaps- exploring the streets in packs. It was a Friday night, so she remembered, and according to what she heard coming up the stairs the Red Sox had won. Whether that was reason for the noise and all the people, she didn't know, but at this point she didn't even care. Her body was chilled, and her soul felt frozen. Unlike a person with a shard of sanity, she welcomed the discomfort.
Up until mere minutes ago, she realized she'd forgotten what it was like to feel.
After so long trapped in the coma, so long tucked away from society with her plotting, she never gave herself the chance to experience that human fallacy. Her time with Claudia, though she'd grown quite fond of the young woman, was mostly spent working as they schemed and invented together. HG never talked about her past with her, save for those few lonely occasions, and the redhead herself kept mum about certain events in her own life. To say it was startling that she was feeling what she felt now would've been an understatement.
HG expected to feel anger, maybe frustration, but to say that she felt confused…That threw the captor for a loop.
Why should Myka Bering live?
She asked herself for the millionth time.
The end game was to rid the world of people like that. The people who betrayed her and who ruined so many lives. She bought Myka along as a bargaining chip, yes, but also the young heiress was to have an ending, eventually. Not once did HG phantom the "what if" of her deciding to spare the girls life.
Killing was simple. Life came and it went.
But saving a life…
Sparing a life.
That was a different story.
HG wanted Myka to be wrong, back at the bank and even again downstairs. Inside of her head, HG was scampering as she searched for a reason, any sort, to discard of the Myka Bering the same way she'd done the corpse at Hugo's, but she failed miserably. The coincidence of MacPherson freaked her out – as her accomplice would've said – and to be more honest, she didn't like the bizarre feeling of kindred she had at learning of yet another random connection her and the heiress had in common. Why hadn't she and Claudia known that fact already was strange, especially considering Myka's claim that MacPherson and her work was public domain, and it made things all the more mysterious. Working with MacPherson herself, HG knew that man couldn't be trusted to even bat an eyelash, and why would Warren Bering would willing agree to letting his daughter stay in his care- even if it was to spy- was deeply unsettling.
That HG was seriously feeling not just confused, but worried for the motives behind not just the internship but even the current Myka Bering's wellbeing…
Well, frankly speaking, she could've been knocked down with a feather.
"You are human you know?"
That same voice from earlier returned. Unlike its prior intrusion, this time it felt more warranted. The disembodied voice belonged to her mentor. Sometimes his vestige comforted her; tonight its eerily responsive quality gave her the chills. HG rolled her head along her neck then closed her eyes. To test out her own sanity she called out the familiar name.
"Caturanga?"
Even her own voice held traces of the uncertainty plaguing her soul.
HG squeezed her hands into fist and steadied herself by the roof's ledge. A ten second interlude passed then there was a skittering noise, like a can had been kicked beside her, and a footfall. The captor's eyes snapped wide as she wildly glanced about the rooftop. It was empty – black tar, discarded bottles, and the single door leading to the floors below. HG shoulders tensed, and she directed towards the adjoining buildings. There was the neighboring apartment complex, she saw the people moving along the balcony, and the maintenance worker was vaccuming the hallway floor with a pair of oversized headphones around his ears. Nobody was paying her any attention whatsoever. Her mind warily reflected back onto Myka being attacked in the bank, the chances of that happening here was slim- this was her safe place after all – but then again she hadn't expected that to take place. As if it would help her spy any intruders, she did another sweep of the rooftop before returning to her dangerous position at the ledge. She noted a puddle of filmy water on the side and saw her image reflected. All she saw was the outline of her form trimmed in black night, her pale face hovering above it, and a pair of dark eyes. Even to herself, she'd admitted the cold-fish quality about her gaze was unsettling. She couldn't separate her irises from her own pupils, they were enormous and reminded her of Black-eyed Susan's. The captor tentatively drew backwards wrapped her arms around her middle then softly called out, her voice soft and tinged with humor.
"It's not very polite to lurk in the shadows, how about you show yourself darling," her mouth curved with a tremble, "Don't be afraid."
She wasn't sure if she said that last part for the invisible stranger or herself.
HG watched the door for a long minute then she rubbed her hands to her arms to fight the chill. Tired of standing, she went to sit on one of the many upturned crates also beside the ledge. From the spread, it appeared that the employee's of Liang's liked to play cards on their breaks. Casting a sly glance at the door, HG stretched out her limbs and tried to rub more circulation into her fingertips. Something about the action flicked a switch in her brain.
"Tis a wonder your poor hands aren't cramped into claws."
She never opened her mouth, but a voice that sounded like her own echoed back to her in the empty, its words a reply to that of her mentor's statement.
"Why do you say that?"
A low chuckle preceded his reply, "Up all night typing like a madman, running off fumes of cheap coffee, haven't had a bite to eat. You shouldn't look this way at this time of day my dear."
Though she couldn't see it HG ran her fingers along her face in examination, she already knew that he was right. While she was washing the blood from her hands earlier, she had seen that shadows had formed underneath her eyes and that a vein or two had popped in the whites of her eyes. Her internal voice replied, there was a hint of sass.
"Are you saying I look bad Cataranga?"
"No, but you do need to sleep. Preferably in a bed and not standing upright or sitting down in those god awful lab chairs."
"I'll sleep when I am dead. Do you know how many years on average a person wastes lying in bed?"
The older gentlemen arched a single brow in askance.
"Twenty-five years," HG supplied, she sounded scandalized at the mention, "That's only four years older than Saleem and Jamal, they're full grown physicist!"
"You're quite stubborn you know that right?"
HG's eyes flashed and she gasped.
Since her failed assassination, she would occasionally have spells such as these. One minute she could be making a nice cup of tea, the next she would find herself back underground with grease on her fingers and the fumes of gasoline in her nose. Like her nosebleeds, these events were sporadic in episode and normally, on average, only lasted a few minutes if not seconds. From her own research she'd diagnosis herself as suffering slight PTSD and because she didn't want to worry or frighten her young apprentice, she kept this information to herself. As she obviously couldn't contact a psychiatrist for help, to combat them she would self remedy by doing breathing exercises, and if they were severe enough, lock herself in her room for the day.
Hoping it was one of the easier days, HG pressed her hands closer into her ears to block out all the sound of the voices and treaded her breaths. As if it would push out the words in her head, she squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head until the voices ran together and faded entirely. Just when she managed to get her heartrate to lower back to normal, her brief calm was ruined by a different voice. This one was male like the last but held much deeper bass and was fractured by an British accent, it sounded of London like her own.
"Rough night?"
At once, all of HG's senses were assaulted as she felt as if she were flung backwards into the past. Her eyelids fluttered but remained shut. She didn't want to open them because she knew what she would see– a ghost world. As of now, she smelt it in her nose, that familiar tinge of burnt coffee and sweated cement, and though she was just barely aware that she was still on the roof, there was something on her face. It was a type of hard plastic that felt like a keyboard.
"No, rough month." replied a female.
"You guys are still coding the synthesis?" replied the man.
"I'm still coding that thing. Who the hell knows what Secord does when he's in there other than playing with his–
There was an interruption as someone else broke into the room. The footsteps were swift and a dramatic swooshing noise trailed behind them as they walked.
"How many points was it to score in office booty again? At the rate we're going, I'd assume it's safe to say we'd all perish of lack of sexual release." said the newcomer.
"Eugh, Seriously Secord? How many times do I have to say it, I'm not going to sleep with you. Bad enough we're all trapped here in hell with you."
"Who said I was referring to you? I probably meant Aces dozing over there. Hell, I could've been referring to James."
"Never under any circumstances," the bassy Britishman sternly stated.
"Still, that was a little vain on Ab-ster's part don't you think?"
The other female in the room released a semi-shriek.
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped.
HG squeezed her teeth so tightly it felt as if her jaw could break. She tried to will the voices away, push them all into the deepest, darkest, fog of her memory but they kept coming. Each voice was as strong and loud as if the actual individuals were on the roof with her.
"About the synthesis?" pressed the Britishman
"Pfft, well we fixed that infamous kink we had, you know with the stasis issue? It's no longer the going under that's the problem. That we can do with a piece of cake." replied the newcomer.
"That's an unprecedented development, they're going to like that a lot."
"Oh wait you didn't hear the great part. Abs?"
There was a brief sigh from the corner before she replied. "For some reason, now you can't wake."
"I don't understand?" said the Britishman.
"Unless someone's externally working the machine, it's impossible for someone to wake their selves. We put them under because it meant less wear on the body and because it allowed the consciousness to remain in tack, not separate and travel on its own like its original design. But..."
The Britishman picked up, speaking his thoughts out loud. "But without stasis this form of travel is basically impossible."
"Correcto-mundo," the newcomer replied and paused long enough to murmur about the biscuit he was eating, "So unless we fix this kink it's back to the lab and more of Arthur's eyebrows haunting our nightmares."
"As if we need more of that." replied Abigail.
The Britishman rumbled his agreement.
Following this there was a long few minutes of silence. The voices had obeyed her this time and went away. After drawing and exhaling a series of shaky breathes, HG felt that it was safer to open her eyes now. She released her hands from her head and slowly turned to where the door was. Immediately she regretted the action. No longer was she at Liang's, she was seated at a desk inside of an office. There was a standard IBM computer infront of her with a spiraling screensaver. All around the rim of the screen were post-it's of equations and notices in her handwriting.
Around her it was as if the sound was being raised on a radio. The voices returned, one by one, first faded then brightened to normal.
"...And look who finally decided to join us."
HG blinked then slowly turned around.
At the far right corner a muscular, dark skinned man was sitting with his hands folded and feet crossed on the top of a metal work desk. He gestured to her face and made a scratching motion on his own face. Confused, HG mirrored the reaction to find a post-it and a line of drool connecting to it. Embarrassed, she snatched the paper from her cheek. As she wiped her face on a paper towel, an Asian woman settled into a rolling chair by the doorway and shot her a warm smile before switching her gaze back to the book in her hand. As if it were her first time seeing them, a voice outside of her spoke labeling them.
Janek and Abigail Cho. Architect and Chemist respectively.
On the wall behind James, an arrogant looking blonde man leisurely stirred his coffee. He was wearing a finely pressed labcoat with v-neck t-shirt and jeans. As if he felt her gaze, he leveled his eyes to hers and mischievously waggled his brows. Back when he was corporal he was a lot of fun to share a drink and despite his jokester mentality, he was a reliable Physicist.
It was Jack.
"So…I heard a certain somebody up all night," he suggestively remarked.
Even in her reality, HG rolled her eyes.
"Do you have to be gross and immature all the time?" Abigail sighed.
"Don't go there with me, it's a joke, betcha thought it was funny. You just rather be a prude."
"Aren't you're supposed to be an adult?"
A dour gentlemen and a pair of smirking twin brothers entered the room. The boys both had dark curly hair and tanned skin, they looked to be Middle-eastern, and possibly teenagers. As for the man, his face was still sporting two week old stubble he was wearing a sweat stained t-shirt covered in wrinkles. Because the pallor of his skin was off and he looked a little sweaty, had she not known any better HG would've said he appeared to suffering withdrawal. Just before sitting at the terminal to the left of her, he grimaced at her as if she'd done something offensive then turned his back. HG averted her gaze from the foul man as the twins greeted the room simultaneously.
"Morning, everyone," said one.
"Morning lot," said the other.
The two boys were their prodigy Engineers, Saleem and Jamal Pateel, her desk partner was the on-staff medic, Dr. Gregory House.
One twin plopped on the only couch in the room and the other hopped onto the edge of James' desk. The twosome began to toss a mini Nerfball between them. James deeply exhaled and shook his head but didn't tell the boy to move, instead he just moved his mug and stack of paperwork over to a safer place. Around the room, the others took similar precautions with their cups and laptops. HG hadn't moved as she was entranced. Normally the twins never appeared; HG always took it as meaning their innocent and jovial souls had found rest. Seeing them both before her eyes, the pit in HG's stomach tightened into a knot of steel wool, she tried to look away but found she couldn't. For the first time ever, all of them were right here in same place.
It was her old team.
-!