In The Space Between
A wondrous form lay before him, lightly tanned skin bathed in the soft glow of sunrise, bun ruffled from sleep and a hand, resting on it. Megan was beautiful, Adam could never deny that. He contemplated the situation, pondering a split second.
Were they a they? An us? A fling?
Whatever it was, the woman was fast becoming his favourite vice, bottles of bourbon and cigarettes packs long discarded on the floor.
Megan's chest moving up and down slowly took his attention next, off the little errant thought earlier. He wanted to kiss her, let his being be one with hers. Not only physically but mentally. Wrap his loving arms around her, shield her from what he knew was in the world. She must have had the same train of thought as she moved up, heart shaped lips meeting slightly thinner.
She was warm, not just from the recent humid weather but flushed with love.
Lust? He saw something flicker, aglow in her eyes. It was correct, his observation. Megan's other hand wove its way onto his chest, caressing skin, tickling it, slight hairs tickling her fingertips. Vivid, bright, inquisitive blue grey eyes looked into hers, cogs whirring away in the man's brain, wondering just where the situation would take them. In her flight of fancy, she, too wondered. She saw love in those eyes. Did he see that in hers? She did not currently feel that. She lusted for him, lower half of her body trembling slightly. Adam knew that, right?
He knew, right?
"There are varying forms of therapy we could attempt at this point. EMDR, CBT..."
Adam interrupted via his bushy brows, steadily moving upwards, forehead crinkling slightly.
"We?"
Grace looked confused at his reply.
"Yes. We. This goes both ways Adam. You aren't here to be lectured. You are here because you wish to be, and sought help. I am here because I wish to be, and assist in giving that help. Your actions will also help, or," she paused, "hinder you, hence the several forms of therapy I can suggest. It is up to you whether we even bother with them. Talking can help a great deal too."
Adam could have smacked his head, his misunderstanding a testament to a haze over his mind.
Not from alcohol or anything illegal, but from pain. His head throbbed. It had since he spoke with Megan. It felt as if he were wading through sludge, swimming, frantically waving his arms, thrashing his legs around, but not getting anywhere. It'd hurt to breathe too, if he had 'human' lungs.
Them being coated in tar, poisoning his airways wouldn't help things either...
He'd had a dream the night before going to meet with Megan. It had been a facade, he knew, but it felt real.
Her skin looked and felt real, the delicate light bathing it had him believing she was there, in his apartment.
In his bedroom, next to him, breathing in the same slightly stale air, musty from old volumes the two had bought over the years.
God, he loved her, not only missing the physical, but having someone understand him, listen to him, help him fight his demons.
Grace was trying, but, she wasn't Megan...
Grace almost commented on the man's silence, but took a guess it was from trepidation. Instead of questioning it, she merely observed.
"Tell me about when you met with Megan."
That took her by surprise. Slight alarm dressed the reaction.
"I can't do that Adam. I understand you too, met with Miss Reed."
Green eyes focused on brown intently.
"Getting defensive? Must be serious."
Grace refrained from coughing, to move from the topic.
"I know you're displeased. Doesn't mean I'll leave the subject alone."
"Adam." Grace picked up her mug, sipping from it, savouring sweet caramel, and the ability the object had of hiding her facial expression.
Adam called her out on it, getting defensive, huffing frustration.
"Doc, I know you talked about me. I know she spoke about me. You can cover your face all you want," he bitterly tapped a temple, "C.A.S.I.E never lies."
The doctor raised a brow.
"Care to elaborate on Miss Reed?"
"Yeah, she went from my safety net, to being a crutch that I can't let go of, or I'll hit the deck."
Grace felt hope ping in her mind.
"She forcibly removed the net from under you?"
Adam nodded.
"She, I thought for a long time that she loved me. That she returned my affection. I was wrong. The pain of that, plus learning to live my augs threw me. I couldn't cope."
"You loved her?"
Man's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Yes. Strong word, I know. I never got to say that word, not to my parents, my foster family. The Jensen's are amazing. Far from perfect, but they brought me up well, I'd like to think."
Grace noted the use of third person. He was a Jensen, yet referred to his family as if he were a spectator in the room.
She nodded, not giving any indication what the nod was for.
"It is a strong word. I have read the file on your birth parents. I don't know what to say, apologetic words won't change anything, cannot change the past."
She shook her head.
"That sounded harsher than I intended."
Adam saw the irony, bitter on his tongue.
"You're 'sorry,' right? Fuck, that should be my middle name, the amount of times I hear it. Sarif? 'I'm sorry, son.' Megan? 'Adam, I'm...,'" he trailed off, "she never could look at me after," he gestured to his form, "the changes. Can't blame her. My head span when I first witnessed the transformation. Its so, drastic, cold, harsh. A sight for very sore, bloodshot, tired, hazy eyes."
Sorrow filled Grace. She blinked, looking away. Adam's eyes were just as he had described. His head in a metal hand, she looked at the limb instead of his face.
She wasn't an expert on augmentation, but could see it was a very expensive model, likely the latest. Metal linking, interlaced with what appeared to be carbon fibre, so able to flex fingers, like a human hand.
Like his past.
"The Jensen's did an excellent job. They raised a brave, intelligent man, one who is willing to lift the mask he wears for the outside world when he is able. One, able to voice his mind, his true thoughts. An honest, vibrant, if not slightly quiet man. That's all okay, Adam."
Then she chose to look in his eyes, as he did hers. She saw belief there.
She continued.
"Your outer appearance means little to the world. What matters is internal. Not many will comment on your outside, but, what's on the inside? That will remain. What you did, what you said, what you continue to say and do in your life. I personally do not find you repulsive. I find you, different. Not an anomaly, Adam."
She purposefully used his name here.
"Never an anomaly."
Adam's emerald's eyes glistened.
"I'm not the only one who sees me as a 'freak.'"
Grace disagreed.
"Who else does? Has anyone said this?"
The agent scoffed.
"The mirror does."
"Adam. The mirror is not a person. It can lie, yes, but it does not have a voice, an opinion." Curiosity gnawed. "What does it tell you?"
Adam hated how pitiful he sounded.
"It tells me I'm a machine, a robot, not a human. Not worthy of being called one, treated as one."
Grace knowingly smiled, keeping it small.
"Does a machine feel? Have a beating heart? Is it warm? Does life flow through its veins? Can it cry?"
Adam squinted, at first thinking the doctor was calling him 'stupid'. How could he possibly not know the answer to any of her questions?
"Of course not."
The smile grew on the woman's face as she witnessed progress.
"Exactly. Adam," she lent forward, "you are by no means a 'robot,' far from a 'machine.' Nothing to be feared, vilified. The only one that tells you that is you. Your reflection is you, the you you are now. The body may have changed, but the man inside of it hasn't."
Grace's timer let out an alarm, pulling the pair from reflection.
"Okay?"
Adam wasn't quite sure.
"Uh," he grunted, "yeah?"
Grace moved back, her smile becoming a grin. This took Adam by surprise, in turn, helping his guard ease up.
"You can be honest with me. If I have said anything out of turn, let me know. We should aim to be on the same page."
"Not 'must'?' Heard that one," he sneered, looking away, "many goddamn times."
The doctor shook her head.
"I don't deal in absolutes. Those and fanciful predictions are for, quote on quote, 'psychic mediums.' The fact that anyone believes in them is both hilarious and rather sad."
Her smile petered off.
"Anyway," Adam earned a sincere look, "thank you for telling me that."
Adam squinted, suspicion clear as his retinal augs gave a flash of Omega.
"Thank you? For what? Getting that out of me? Isn't it your job to do that?"
"I didn't get it out of you, Adam. That's the point. You let it out of you. You could have sat here the entire hour, doing nothing but stare at the hairline crack in the wall behind me. You could have walked out. I wouldn't have stopped you, or reported it to Sarif."
Adam rolled his eyes, standing, straightening his jacket.
"Of course he'd want anything and everything reported back to him."
He sighed, slicking a hand through his hair.
"Is nothing sacred anymore?"
Grace placed her tablet down, grabbing a pen and card in its stead.
"No, but the Sacred Feminine is a rather interesting concept. About creation, the ways in which some believe a higher power works. Now, I do not believe, but, in regards to your 'creation,' it could hold some weight."
She took off the pen cap.
"Now that Sarif Industries looks to be folding, I am not entirely sure if we can continue our sessions for much longer."
Adam shrugged, Grace shaking her head at that.
"Progress indeed."
She laughed. Adam, despite himself laughed too.
"Is next week okay? Same time?"
She looked at her calendar.
"I'm not sure. Got a lot to sort through at work, and I don't know where I'll work next, unless I freelance."
Grace wrote down the time and date, and put question marks after both. She signed it and handed it to Adam, who chuckled upon seeing the additions.
"A psych, with a sense of humour. Sarif did alright picking you."
Grace smirked.
"Just alright?"
Adam returned the smirk, leaving the office.
Grace merely sat down, patted herself of the back and laughed.
She needed coffee, but that could wait.
Leaving the lab, entering the elevator, Adam felt happy alongside Megan. She'd be great at the presentation, he had a lot of faith in her.
Could he steal a kiss before they got to the boardroom? Before Sarif's and many stone faced men in suits eyes were upon her, expectantly?
He went to, heart swelling with pride. Megan wasn't in the mood, butterflies flapping their wings hurriedly, making her nervous, twitchy. The man decided to go with a softer approach. His hand casually moved towards hers. The doctor saw it, took it, his warmth radiating, calming her, settling the twitch. She squeezed his hand, smiling warmly.
The ping of the elevator barely noticed in the sweet moment, Frank's form stepping inside broke through the space, turning the taste slightly caustic, the tech's coldness the cause.
Adam vaguely heard, shouting? Some kind of noises coming from far east of where he, David and Megan were. He ignored it, all phasing out as he looked at Megan. Entirely focused on her, he smiled, positive, giving her luck. Megan didn't return it. In fact, she moved past him, almost through him, as if his form were not there. This confused the agent, wondering what triggered her sudden mood swing. The corners of his mouth down-turned as negativity filled his mind.
Did she not love him?
Was he wrong?
Had he gotten the signals completely wrong? Wires crossed?
Those mere thoughts made him gulp sourness, coughing, spluttering as a result.
As men swarmed the building, Adam shouted for Megan to get down as he stepped in front of her, shielding her. He wanted to be her protector, despite the man knowing she could handle herself.
He did not want her facing a barrage of bullets. He would take those if it meant she escaped alive.
He ducked down for a second, wanting nothing more than to cuddle the scientist, let her know he was thinking of her, and only her right this moment.
Megan shrunk back, eyes suspicious, brows raised. She didn't understand why Adam was being clingy. She felt scared, though did not need a 'Knight in Shining Armour'. She pulled back, shaking her head.
Realisation hit Adam like a truck, far exceeding the speed limits.
She didn't love him.
She didn't love him...
He felt sick, stomach heaving, bile flying up his throat. He all but stuck his head over a waste paper bin when them first bullet hit him, square in the arm.
The sick feeling intensified, vision swimming, tears formed as he phased out, body no longer registering what was happened around him.
"Ms Reed? Get up. I know you're in here. Your 'guard dog' is done for."
Jaron Namir's voice spat, the mercenary's eyes scanning the messy office. He frowned as they saw shattered glass all around. He stepped over as much as he could.
Megan popped her head up, hearing bullets leaving barrels, smelling sulphur. Bullets flew at break neck speed into Adam, low groans the only thing letting her know he was alive.
"Ms Reed, get the fuck up, or I'll end him."
Megan stood up, hands up.
"Don't! Please!"
Namir held a gun above Adam's head, yanking it up with the other hand.
"Get your research and your skinny ass over here, or he will die. I'll make sure to splatter his brains all over you too."
Megan retched, her lunch didn't wish to stay in her stomach much longer.
"Please! Namir!"
Adam's eyes opened, squinting with pain and the bright lights of the room.
"Megan? You know him?"
He tried to look at the man, his head pulled violently away. Whiplash tore through him. He growled loudly.
Megan scrambled around, looking for her file. Her heart rose into her throat, her gaze falling upon it in the hands of Vincent Veristas, a friend of David. He'd been shot between the eyes, steady stream of blood trickling down from the bullet hole. She grimaced, stuck out her hand, and pried it from the man's grasp.
She thrust the horrid file at the merc. Jaron took it, opened it, skimmed darkened eyes over it, closing it quickly.
He dropped Adam's head, sending him hurtling towards the floor. Megan stepped forward, keeping steps short, movements discreet. Namir grabbed her arm, shooting Adam in the chest, both actions casual, as if they were nothing...
The scientist cried out, salt stung her eyes. Adam was dying before her eyes. God, she couldn't do this anymore. She had to tell him what she'd found, what she'd done. She tried to, blurting out her ex's name, before her mouth was covered, freezing metal engulfing her. She was hauled up, and carried out of the office.
Out of the building that was her second home. Away from one of the only men who got to her...
Adam's world whirled, stomach churned, entire body aching. Any attempt to move, an effort to do something caused surges of pain, blinding, iron tinged pain to bite it's sharp teeth into him. Blackness threatened every second of his remaining life to take him, engulf him, wrap him in its embrace.
Half of him wished for it all to end. The agony would cease, and, sure, his life would be over, but he'd had a bloody good go at it. He'd had a fairly decent innings...
The other half wanted to get up, somehow find energy to pull himself up, look up at the office lights, and refuse to glare into the pitch blackness that was death.
The former won, inevitable, he knew. He coughed, registering nothing, once muffled sounds now dead to his ears, his senses no longer functioning. His eyes stopped responding to his wanting thoughts to see. They did not wish to view any more.
Neither did he. Neither did he.
Adam arrived home, all but storming through his front door. Tears blurred his vision temporarily as he curled up into a ball on the couch. He'd not orientated himself properly, falling onto the carpet soon after dropping. He clutched at the soft faux fur, trying to concentrate on the feeling between his fingers. He vaguely felt them, smooth, downy. He couldn't really feel them, not like he used to be able to. This stung him, throwing his body into convulsive sobs.
Unable to control them, he let them take him, mind succumbing to what he'd carefully hidden for a long time, the cement between bricks of his walls crumbling.
The cement was his resolve, the one and only true weapon he had against the torment that was his life.
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