When The Cat's Away
"Adam?"
Adam heard thumping, the sound eerily similar to that of bodies hitting the floor. The bodies of men he had known mere hours, joked around with littered around him, thin layers of sand obscuring distinguishable features. He scanned around, locating the source to his left.
Delara followed his gaze.
"The sound? Its a settlement being built, I saw heavy crates being craned in a few hours ago, likely building materials." Her voice wasn't concerned. It was matter of fact. Adam's head shot back to her, not liking her tone.
More, a lack of anything.
"Is it getting to you? Dubai? Panchaea?"
Adam's stomach lurched.
"Don't. If I can't process all of it at once, neither can you. I don't want to explain it."
Delara raised a brow, face neutral.
"I apologise. I didn't mean to bring that up too soon."
"Didn't you?" Adam questioned, done with formalities. "Delara, I don't think you heard me. You fill in blanks with wrong, imaginary information."
The clock ticked, the time forcing a breath from the man's throat.
"Finished?"
He questioned, eyes burning into the psychoanalyst's.
All that remained on her face was annoyance, induced by a man being terribly stubborn, in her eyes.
"We are not."
Adam didn't deign to look in he direction. The doctor sighed.
"We are, for now. I'll be in touch."
He waved a hand behind him, scurrying off with haste.
Vaclav pinged him, likely wanting to eye him, splice him open with curious eyes.
Adam wasn't keen on the man, but much preferred his company to Delara's...
The day prior
Grace packed a bag, unsure how much to pack in. The bag was already full of clothing, her personal bag with Adam's files and train ticket to Prague. David had gotten in touch only three days prior, not giving her much time to get some things together.
The practise wasn't given enough notice to transfer her over to Task Force 29's database. She'd have to do that herself when she arrived. She also didn't know where she would live, her funds not limited, but they were her own.
If she wasn't working for Oak Wood anymore, they wouldn't be paying her.
She'd have to pay for a hotel room. Feeling unsure wasn't her idea of fun, and it wouldn't be a vacation. It would be for, work?
Not really. I'd be going there for Adam.
She grabbed her bags, heaving them onto the couch.
Because I was asked to.
The doctor needed to find a dog kennel, near where she was staying. Freud would hate that, being a personable pooch. He loved people, they came with petting, treats and the joyous sound of his name leaving their mouths.
The brunette closed her eyes, pressing 'call,' the number a shelter.
She'd looked them up, seeing a few dozen pages of reviews. She chuckled at the name, 'Paws, Jaws and Claws,' tickling the Miniature Schnauzer's beard as she spoke to the receptionist.
After ten minutes of what turned out to be fruitless patter, Grace was unable to procure a spot for Freud, and the hotel she had booked wasn't dog friendly. Giving him away was not an option.
Putting him in a kill shelter was beyond no, a definite 'fuck no.' Not eloquent in the slightest, but the doctor wasn't fussed.
She couldn't leave him here, he'd pine, whine and be thoroughly miserable.
She should have thought of this sooner...
Her train time arrived, finding the doctor on the platform, tapping a foot nervously. She wasn't worried about herself. She would be anxious at first, not only in a new environment, but an entire new country, she found herself strangely paranoid. Awaiting something negative to happen, on an edge of something unpleasant and something catastrophic.
She knew nothing of Prague, titbits of Adam's current situation and that Delara wasn't working out for him. Unstable ground was her unfortunate ally here, when all she wanted to do was plant her feet...
Grace sat down, announcements falling on deaf ears.
Firstly, she needed a drink, throat parched, the train's dry, stale air unyielding.
Secondly, she would do a thorough search for Delara Auzenne, Task Force 29 and make further enquires regarding her little canine friend.
She had several hours to burn, and the journey would drag its lazy limbs like a child, made to go somewhere it didn't want to by overeager parents...
The next afternoon
Adam walked out of his appointment, head low, alternatives for 'robot' and 'inhuman' thrown at him, the last one making him smirk.
Grace stepped off the train weary, sleep an enemy for reasons she could not process, brain fuzzy, thoughts mush. Grabbing her bags, lugging them around sapped her of even more energy, a banana all she had eaten during the journey. Potassium wasn't adept at keeping her hunger or tiredness at bay.
Adam swerved, missing a woman's shoulder by inches. He looked over his shoulder, muttering an apology.
He did a double take upon recognising brown and grey zigzags on a lighter grey sweater, white collar peeking out from over top.
"Grace?" He turned, biting his cheek. "No," he swallowed, "David."
Grace let out breathless laughter.
"That obvious, huh?"
Her tone spoke that she was worn out, bit exasperated.
"Yes, David asked me to come here. Frank told me your new therapist wasn't quite your cup of tea."
Adam corrected. "Coffee, and no, she isn't."
"Not mentioning her name," Grace pondered, managing too, without her head exploding, "must be serious."
Her last words were mocking. Adam rolled his eyes.
"You've been around Frank too long."
Grace smirked.
"You sound like you miss him."
"Never."
Adam smirked in return, vibrant emerald's scanning her and her bags.
"You're 'analysing' something or other. Please don't tell me your retinal augs can see through things, because I am not turning around. It'd be too late anyway."
Much to her dismay, Adam's smirk grew. Now, his eyes joined in, taking on a kind of audacious gleam.
"And there's me thinking you preferred brain to external factors. Dearie me, was I wrong?"
The doctor's second attempt at mocking failed. Her pursed lips and questioning eyes said she did not care. Adam found he liked that, the honesty. He didn't have to overthink her words or actions.
"Okay, so I know what you are here for, but, why? It can't be just for me..."
That threw the woman for a loop. She made a face.
"Well, no one is paying me to be here. I was asked to come here, but told it was up to me whether or not I accepted the request. I came here of my own accord. So, to answer your question, rather long-winded, I am here just for you."
"That almost sounded romantic."
Grace retorted.
"Because that would completely appropriate. Please Adam," she scanned him, discomfort pulsing in the man's gut, "you're a patient. This isn't some soppy love film, with unfeasible plots, sentences no one would utter and music to rival dodgy backstreet film producers."
Adam would have replied were in not for a glaringly obvious problem with what Grace had just said.
"Hold on. You don't have a clinic, and you aren't being paid. Where are you staying even?"
Adam stared openly at her, completely thrown.
"Yes and yes. I understand how strange that sounds, however, our progress and the lack of it here provided more reason for me to come here. I am staying at a hotel, and I do not have a clinic, per-say, but there are rooms I can book. The hotel wouldn't be appropriate."
She wore a confident smile, overtaxed taut facial features relaxing.
"I will find a way, I'm wiser than I look."
Adam looked away, smiling slightly as she walked away, wheeled case behind her.
"Well, that's...different."
She wasn't giving up on him. And, whilst he appreciated this, he could only hope she didn't ask to visit him for appointments.
She wouldn't like what she saw. He was falling, likely smelling like an addict of both nicotine and alcohol.
He was worried, though that was easily remedied.
All too damn easily...
She stopped, looking at the carrier case in her other hand, beady black eyes opening.
"I also don't have anywhere for Freud to go, and as I don't know anyone here, I won't give him to just anyone."
Adam snapped from dourness.
"I will. I'm gonna be here for some time, so."
Grace smirked, snorting before turning with a straight face.
"Well, we know he rather likes you. Can't see why..."
Adam grinned, an actual, honest grin. Grace's eyes narrowed, then widened.
He wasn't doing that to placate her.
He was smiling because he wanted too.
It wasn't for anyone else.
The doctor found herself elated. She hid this, passing the case to Adam, Freud wiggling when he looked up through the slits of plastic. Adam kept an earnest grin.
"Hey little guy."
He knelt down, people rushing past him, hustle and bustle ignored. The world didn't matter here, its voices were drowned out by a sweet little moustached pooch looking at him. He didn't judge, his eyes only held happiness, tail wagging confirming this. Grace found herself more energised by the scene. That little bit more determined to help Adam help himself.
That's what she had decided on the train. She wouldn't lecture him, she wouldn't grab a hold of the strings David held and cut them. She wouldn't cast out a line with bait in the hopes she'd catch a severely tortured soul.
Adam had to do all that himself.
And, he could. She knew that. It was only a matter of convincing him of that.
It was only when he grabbed the bags off the doctor that she smelt something familiar. Cigarette smoke was something she had grown used too, many people around her, including her Father smoked religiously.
Adam was no exception, and Grace figured there'd be an augment or two inside him that did damage control, so his lungs wouldn't end up pus filled flesh bags.
No, it wasn't that smell that bothered her. That grimace was reserved for a tipple her Mother favoured.
Bourbon, the kind that burned your throat, possibly singing nose hairs if you sniffed too hard.
Now, she'd been made aware that Adam liked a drink. Whilst there was little wrong with this, the smell, not quite homeless drunk level was akin to someone leaving a bar in the early hours of a morning.
It was there, yet not there. It lay alongside gun smoke, metal, tobacco and slight sweat.
Primary scent?
Not quite. That was tobacco.
Secondary? Perhaps.
Tertiary? Maybe.
Too woolly headed for this.
"Grace?"
Grace looked up.
"Hmm?"
"You were gone there."
He began walking.
"Going to tell me?"
Grace shook her head.
"Not quite now. Sorry Adam."
Adam waved a hand, still curious what had her head in the clouds.
"Where are we going?"
Grace pulled out her phone, icon blinking on a map of Prague. She used her fingers to zoom in to the blip.
"The 'Rudý úsvit hotel.' Probably said that wrong. Hope no one heard me..."
She quickly followed the man, thrusting out her phone so he could see the GPS coordinates.
A huff left his mouth. Grace was clearly knackered, and did not know that he already located the building as soon as she'd named it.
"Got it."
He humoured her, the doctor scurrying alongside him, putting her phone back in her purse.
The battery died not long after, not that she knew.
It didn't matter. What mattered was her, getting her head down on plush pillows, duvet cover tucked up beneath her chin.
The back of train seats (she'd deduced) were not conductive for a good night's rest...
Dedicated to a dear friend and reader, who recently began reading this, has drawn art for it, given me great feedback and genuinely appreciates and loves all the facets of the DE universe and its characters. Here's to you, Justina!