Hallowed Be Thy Name
"Anything and nothing."
Grace said, as Adam sat down. He'd emailed her out of the blue, the place they used for appointments was occupied space now. So, Adam was here, in her apartment. Whilst it wasn't an ideal situation, it was the one they were in.
Not by choice. This was her environment. She knew this, Adam could feel threatened, badgered if she spoke not as a psychologist but as an acquaintance. Here, it was easy to slip between the two.
Between the cracks...
Bushy brows raised, forehead wrinkles prominent grooves.
"What? Don't you have a plan?"
Grace returned a questioning brow.
"Did you ever have a plan?"
She half nodded.
"For the first four sessions? Yes. The rest? No."
Three words flashed before Adam's mind, sepia toned, as if he was trapped in an old film.
Only, this one was silent, his words would be on a black placard.
'For fuck's sake.'
He looked away, Grace clearly seeing the cogs frantically whirring away in the man's mind.
"For the sake of fucks, right?"
He looked back up, face unreadable, though his hunched posture spoke of wanting to bolt.
"Need the WD40 again? Hold on for just a minute."
The doctor rooted around in her bag, cursing her choice to bring a thick notepad, penned additions on how to pronounce Czech words, addresses, the odd note regarding Adam thrown in blue ink.
She had no idea why, but she associated the agent with hues of aquamarine.
She'd later work out that was due to Adam's eyes being blue, prior to augmentation.
"There you are. Koller had some. He's an oddball, but one I certainly don't mind being in the company of. Just don't try the tea. Mine took on a black sheen that sadly put me off the warming brew."
Adam spied the can, saw humour in hazel orbs and damn near fought the urge to laugh.
He felt troubled, yes, but he'd talk about that.
'Anything or nothing' huh...
He put elbows on knees, staring into Grace's eyes intently, gauging her every move.
"If I tell you this, that means you're involved."
"I was involved from the beginning Adam. May as well see it through till the end. You can tell me in confidence."
Adam blurted out what he must, lest his voice escape him.
"Otar Botkoveli, second-in-charge of the Dvali crime syndicate was after Koller. He feuded with the man above him, Radich Nikoladze, he protected Koller in exchange for maintenance of his augmented leg. Vaclav had me collect a neuroplasticity calibrator Otar had kept from him. Otar, of course wanted favours for the return of that. He had me trek through Golem City, to find a guy called Louis Gallois. He was supplying Radich with neuropozene. Otar then had him killed as a show, power-play. Radich, in retaliation attacked him, therefore causing the pot to boil over. Radich had his men leave just before any real damage was done, a warning in return for the attack. I was contacted again, sent to The Red Queen, to form an alliance with it's owner, Máša Kadlek. Otar attempted on Vaclav's life. I found Dvali men in The Time Machine when I returned. I should have stayed," Adam set his jaw, "I knew I should have stayed. His right-hand man, Vano Shetekauri was outside. I thought I'd dissuaded him."
He closed his eyes, grooves thick with restrained anguish.
"You were an hour away from being taken. I just about stopped him from harming Koller. Otar lied about Radich, claiming he'd died in a 'tragic accident,' so he could kill Koller with no consequences. Only, Radich found out immediately, and had Otar and Vano arrested. Last I heard, the three were screaming at one another. Koller is in a safe house, curtesy of Frank."
The man slunk back, shoulders low, a burden grave placed upon them.
"He looked utterly terrified. I've seen fear," Panchaea, his 'oh so charming' brain added, "but, that? That was despair. He shook violently, cold sweats, if he turned any paler, he'd hurl everything he'd eaten that week. I hate this, I hate what's going on. I was made to solve things like this, whether through violence or with words. I can't. I'm unable to do anything other than panic. Only, I can't show that. No," bitter irony fell from his mouth, rusted metal lining each, "I have to be the 'big man.'"
Grace took some breaths as it sunk in. All this 'I'm the big man,' "NO, I'm the BIG man" talk made her yawn more times than if she were forced to house-sit a place, freshly painted, to make sure there wasn't any drips cascading onto bare floor...
"Okay. One, very important question."
Adam leaned in.
"How in blazes do I say ANY of those names? Spell them even?! My report is going to chock full of errors, it'll look like a blindfolded child wrote it..."
She was back to form shortly after the small outburst, the seriousness of the situation sinking in, looming over her, its shadow vast.
She tilted her head.
"Are Otar's men after me?"
Adam nodded glumly, frustration clear. He'd gotten her involved.
How could he not have?
How could he have done that?
The woman sighed.
"I'm well aware I'm a civilian, I'm not about to take people out in a pencil skirt and with a clipboard. But, I'm here, I hope that counts for something."
Grace fell quiet after that, wondering what in the actual hell she should do.
"They won't find you. They don't know where you are, Frank and I have made sure of that. Malik is on standby in case anything happens. We'll get you out of here. Out of harms way. Radich knows of you, not where you stay, but the general vicinity. He's aware, his presence is there, far after all of this dies down. It will, Otar wouldn't dare attempt another coup. I'm sorry, Grace. I can't express how terrible I feel."
Grace gave a reassuring smile, though her mind said otherwise.
That's nice and all, but, Radich failed to protect Koller...
"You just did. It isn't your fault, Adam. Its politics, they aren't ever pleasant. Only, in most parties, you don't see anything they don't want you too. You can't see their rotten insides if they cover it in glue, sprinkle it with glitter. You can't polish a turd, after all."
he woman's smile remained, a little defiance creeping in.
"Anything I can do?"
His response made the woman's heart drop into her stomach. It then twisted uncomfortably, tossing the organ like a rag doll.
"Be yourself. I can't stand two faced people, almost everyone I meet is. They tell me one thing, when, on the inside? They say the opposite. They think I can't see it. I can. Don't need C.A.S.I.E, life taught me that lesson. Most people bullshit because they cannot bear the truth."
"Adam, I haven't been anything but myself. Why would I ever bullshit you? And, yes, I know that a stereotype of my profession is that we lie, tell patients what they want to hear. Believe me when I say, Adam," her hand twitched, mind registering that she almost moved to touch him, "whomever has hurt you in the past, and now, I will not participate in that. I won't project my experiences onto you."
He was getting somewhere. Adam knew he was chipping through the hardened steel barrier that was 'doctor' and getting through to the Grace beneath it. Grace twigged, knowing full well what the man was trying to do.
The doctor wished to shut him down, block him out. Use an eraser to erase anything personal she had said to him.
However, she'd only written about him, not herself, nor transcribed their conversations.
Grace, the Grace beyond her title wanted to let herself out of the box, pop open the flaps, throw the eraser onto the floor and hope that Freud didn't eat it...
"I know next to nothing about your life."
Grace warred with herself.
"Adam, I can't tack that information onto what you've just told me."
"Can we talk about something other than death then? Its raw enough, seen so much devastation, I'd rather talk about the fucking weather than that."
Grace tilted one corner of her lips upward.
"Eliza Cassan's brand of eye-shadow? Really ought to find that out. Mine always creases after a few hours," she trailed off, amused, "never good, especially when its a dark shade. Makes me look like I've angered a patient."
Adam smirked.
"Ever angered one that much?"
Grace nodded, to his chagrin.
"I have. Had a woman a few years back, cheating on her husband. She believed there wasn't an issue. Her husband and I disagreed. I informed her she should take a step back, evaluate what and whom mean something to her, go from there. She stood up, moved to slap me. Her husband shot up, restrained her as she thrashed around. I exited the office, got security, they, in turn called the Police. Her poor husband had scratches all over his arms and face. He joined the practise a week after that, said he'd filed a restraining order and divorce papers." She sighed. "Never understood why someone who claims to love you would do such a thing. Harming someone is execrable. Someone, that you care for?"
There was something after that that hung in the air. It thickened it, stirring the something all over the space.
Adam picked the very thing up Grace knew he would. She'd made the decision to tell him. There was no shame, no harm done. Her 'love life' was far from what the man sat before her was.
No shame existed for her past.
So then, why did she feel it in her present?
Dropping formalities, letting go, forcing though fresh cement whilst still wet, Grace pushed forward.
"Well, you know how I came to be in Detroit. About my parents, my studies," she paused, chuckling casually, "Sean?" Grace started. "Met him via a work colleague. He worked in sales, not the cold call kind. That would have bugged me no end. A little like Koller. Quite lighthearted, cheerful, a little dim however. Nearly killed my friends and I when he attempted to cook beef. It was still mooing. I had to fix up something else, much to his frustration. A charmer, not traditional, which I prefer. Not too keen on men who's views are stuck in the 20th century. I understand women and men had their 'roles' for quite a number of years. However, I believe both can do those jobs, as long as they are willing and trained."
The woman didn't expect a reply. She continued, clambering out of the pool of building material, building herself with memories.
"I was nineteen, he twenty-one. We were together for eight years. I learned about men through him. I also learned what I like and dislike in the male of our species. I believe me becoming a psychologist was what split us. He began being impulsive, things in his life took a turn. I knew why he acted that way, but, when I merely asked if he was doing okay, he would snap, force me away from him. I'd always want to hold him after his outbursts, despite how they frightened me. The first few times. After that, I lost faith in myself. My work life revolved around giving people the tools to rebuild their life, make dents in armour, chip away bricks from walls of defence constructed by pained minds, troubled thoughts. I couldn't help Sean, however. The one man I should have understood was the one who made his own path and strolled down it briskly," hazels melted a tad, reflective soreness upon biting her cheek, "so quickly, I couldn't keep up. He didn't want me too. I worked that out soon after. He wished to be away from me. Lectures, how he could 'fix' himself were not what he needed. He needed space when I wanted him."
"Similar to Megan, in that regard. I believed I knew her, what I knew I adored. Charismatic, brains, eyes that could floor most men, demeanour that could ease even the most tense of atmospheres, headstrong, her own woman. She didn't need anyone, or anything to succeed. I believed she could possibly need me. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that I could get beneath the initial stony exterior, see what softness I knew lay behind it. Only, it wasn't soft. It was hardened steel, and I'm no miner. I appear bold because if I didn't, I fear I'd be letting everyone who has aided me, given their life for me, spent their credits on me down. I needed Megan, she wanted me. That was too much to bear. I'd bore my soul to someone, I'd gazed into her abyss, I would have gladly followed her down it, no matter how it stung my insides. She iced over the warmth I wished to give her, till it was all but frozen solid."
Adam grunted, masculinity stepping in to mask upset as mere sulking.
"I make her out to be ice queen, frigid, unloving, not a care in the world, other than for her work. Partly true, though, I cannot work out which part is and which is false. Perhaps I never knew her, I knew what I wished to see. I projected what I wanted onto her. I wanted meaningful love when she wanted physical love."
Grace paraphrased, reluctance the man exhibited clear on thoughts of intimacy. She hadn't planned on broaching the topic as of yet, however, Adam bringing it up hastened the therapy plans in her mind.
"She wanted sex when you wished to make love?"
Adam nodded, contrition superseding conniption.
"You feel guilt, loss of that connection? I too, find solace in making love, not the concept of 'have sex for the sake of it.' My field isn't endocrinology, however, I understand that people do that because of hormones. If it makes them feel good, why should I be in their bedroom, commenting on their habits? I did not wish to broach this, its personal beyond measure."
Adam's face dropped, and he waved her off as if he were swatting a fly. This was why Grace chose to leave intimate connections well enough alone. Adam was virtually pouting like a toddler refused a lollipop. It outright caused fumes from stoked flames in her belly to rise up her throat, blowing hot air in his direction.
Not quite volcanic, but enough so as he'd feel her anguish at his turn...
"I couldn't touch anyone with these hands."
The agent stared at them incredulous.
"These have maimed, snapped a neck."
The woman would be lying if she said her stomach didn't lurch, crawling painfully towards her bowel. Adam saw this, blurting out a sort of apology.
If you could apologise for killing people, that was.
"I didn't mean to kill the guy. He was hunting children to experiment on, take off limbs, pump them full of anti-rejection medication. After what I'd been through as a kid, I couldn't stand to see another White Helix. They couldn't be allowed to resurface under any name, guise. He wouldn't stop laughing, so I strangled him. He stopped breathing, so I loosened my grip. As I went to put him down, I called the Police. Then came the crack, louder than a pop, a sound I don't want to hear again. I didn't mean to kill him, Grace."
"Then why are you concerned about your hands? You did not mean it, nor do I believe you would willingly hurt a woman, whether in a sexual setting or not."
"I wouldn't," Adam growled, curling a fist, the other's knuckles dug into his cheek, "that's the point. Its not the strength that bothers me. Its the fact it's clear I am not entirely human. They're cold, ridged, gnarled. Not able to fully feel someone? What woman wants a guy who looks like Robocop on a bad day? A metal contraption unable to feel her skin when she takes a hand and places it upon her?"
Grace reconstructed her doctor shield in record time.
"Yes, because you are ugly. A strange, strained mess of a 'man.' Nothing more than a billionaire's wet dream. That's what you want to hear, right?"
Adam drew back, huff impertinent.
"Fuck, Grace!"
Grace didn't back down.
"Should I throw the dictionary at you? I could, I have several copies."
She sat up straight, crossing a leg, linking her hands.
"I also ordered a book on augmentation, how it affects people, effects society, the impact. From what I have seen in previews? They are incredible Adam. Who I see in front of me is no 'Robocop on a bad day.' No monster, nothing sinister. You are no villain. Society chooses to believe lies, poison itself. If they wish to drink from a poisoned chalice, simply because it doesn't strain their minds to do so, they will.
The woman looked at her wall clock.
"Since this isn't technically an appointment, would you like to continue?"
Adam didn't reply. He sat, motionless on the couch for what felt like days, finding patterns in Grace's words.
Unable to use his voice, he used his eyes.
He watched sunlight play with shadows, saw flecks of dust dancing around the room, Grace, in her kitchenette with kettle in hand.
Funny how his eyes led him straight to her when her living space was at least the same, if not slightly larger than his.
Freud skittering about the floor, skidding to a halt in front of him had him look down, frown turned upside down.
"He knows something's up..."
Grace remarked, as she moved across several overlapped carpets towards the couch, tea tray in her hands.
"I like to think he does, somewhat anyway. He gets as close as caninely possible to me when I'm unhappy. Also when I'm on my period, its as if he understands I'm not 100%."
Adam coughed, the woman's bluntness incredulous but rather humorous too.
"Tea?"
A head shake garnered him a look. A look Frank had given him multiple times. A look that frightened him beyond measure.
Off the fucking Richter scale...
"I merely thought your six bottles at home would be enough, is all. I don't want to have to say no..."
Adam corrected.
"You just did. Also, four."
Hazel eyes squinted, eyebrows high.
"Well, I suppose two were half empty."
She saw Adam's gaze turn sinister for a split second.
"Don't. Sean and I disagreed on what term was proper for liquids in glasses. I see you wish to argue. I don't."
Grace picked up a teapot clad in lilac cotton. She wouldn't look at the man, knowing his face would be a picture of gloat, mirth, brows knitted.
Knowing? Well, there's a word. I sound confident too, as if its a given.
A little taken aback, Grace moved to pick up a teaspoon, fingers not quite curling around the metal implement.
"Sugar or cubes? Seems my faculties aren't at peak efficiency at this time."
Adam snorted, the sound making Grace titter.
"You've REALLY been around Frank too much."
"Ah, so, that's how I manage to get through to you. Frank uses subterfuge and big words, and I employ both in my arsenal too." Her grin perturbed the agent. "Sneaky should be my middle name, eh?"
"At least the two of you don't use stalling tactics. Pisses me off."
Grace gestured towards the sugar again, cheekiness on her face, fluid ease in her limbs.
"At least go to the bathroom. Civility, for the sake of my carpet," she popped a cube into Adam's cup, "oh, and wash your hands, won't you? Its simply vile when people don't."
Adam smacked his forehead, if he hit it any harder, he'd leave palm prints...
"You really are female Frank."
Grace grinned wide, laughter echoing through the space, no attempt to cover it.
Adam hid his grin behind his cup...