Comings And Goings

Grace looked up, meeting Adam's dark visage.

"Evening," she said slowly, low, "its...its good to see you."

He swallowed, throat bob giving away hesitance.

"Its good to be back."

Adam enunciated, believing that more and more with each word.

"Coffee?" The woman sucked in a controlled mouthful of dry air. "Its a little late," eight pm, to be exact, "and I usually don't drink caffeine after six."

"Then don't."

Adam headed towards the kitchen. Grace shot up, her head shaking taking his attention.

"I'd much prefer this to go smoothly," she pointed to the stack of bottles, "though, they too, would go down smoothly."

Pun unintended, her head added, much to her dismay. Adam's C.A.S.I.E registered her reaction. In response, he picked up creamer, turning and holding it, shaking it with a look of successful trickery.

Grace merely laughed...

"You know how you like your coffee."

The woman's tone flared Beta, blinding his retinal augs a tad. She was mortified at making errors with him, she was placating him.

Or, so she thought. It merely bugged him. She could handle him, she'd proven that. To see her regress caused him to squint.

Grace, in repose put up her hands, sighing discontentedly.

"So do you. Grace." Adam said her name cautiously. "Look at me." She did, brow arched. "I am not leaving here. I won't get angry. It isn't you that frustrated me. Its the past."

The woman nodded, relaxing her face.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather talk about here and now. The hell is going on?"

Pupils thinned, Grace wasn't sure which action was appropriate.

"When?"

Grace's digestive system did a 180.

"Which Grace do you wish to answer you? Doctor or acquaintance?"

"Neither. Grace as a friend."

"Well now, there's a word." She huffed a laugh. "Okay. Didn't wish to use that term."

"In case it freaked me out?"

"I'd have said if it was personal, not conducive to therapy, but, this is personal now."

The woman took a steadying breath.

"The first time you smiled, truly smiled, I felt happy. At the time, I would have said that was Doctor Grace who felt that. The Time Machine changed that. When you saw me truly happy, and I saw you, guilt filled me. Your appearance was that of someone who looked to have crawled through all nine circles of Hell."

"Thanks."

Adam threw out there, amused smirk playing.

"I did smell burnt fabric, you know. And, since Koller is a veritable oil slick, and I'd had a shower, used deodorant and perfume, I knew it couldn't possibly be me."

Adam took on the role of councillor, Grace his study.

"You felt trapped? Between me, the street behind me?"

"No. It felt more like I'd trapped myself, the cables on the ground likely did ensnare me, but," she paused, "it was clear something had gone wrong. I felt great because I was around a bubbly chap, but you were not. Looked like you'd pop the bubbles. I know," she waved her hands, "I'm using metaphors again, aren't I?"

Adam skimmed over that.

"That's your defence mechanism. Mine is silence, whilst yours is obligatory phrases to make people think. It does take my mind off what haunts me."

Grace welcomed that.

"I've noted that with quite a few of my male patients. They fall silent, when women blurt out what ails them. Its societal, sadly. I could talk till the cows come home about trivial matters. Yet, when men try? They are bullied into reticence, told to 'man up.' Only women are allowed to feel. Is it right to teach the men of today to only feel hatred and anger? Surely that'll only breed contempt?"

Adam couldn't resist.

"You're doing it again."

Grace pursed her lips.

"And you're being fractious."

"Fractious? Been reading the very same dictionary you reckoned you'd throw at me, have you?"

Grace scolded herself for saying that.

"Throwing the book at someone is law, and, as I do not have any want to change my career to that of a lawyer, I suggest we speak on what you came here to say. You came here to let me hear your voice, didn't you?"

Grace poured the coffees, pushing Adam's and the creamer towards the agent after making hers.

A song played in her head as Adam started, his words echoing the lyrics.

Grace listened to Adam. As far as she was concerned, his was the only voice in the entirety of Prague this moment. Everyone else, the cities sounds would be drowned out, by one man's outpouring of heart.

"I had that nightmare again, slightly different. I'd just come out of surgery, but was in my apartment in the dream. I saw my reflection, what I saw wasn't me. It wasn't. I was covered in gauze, blood crusted around augment fusion, stuck to my chest like glue. The whole despising what it showed me what I was began then and there."

"Hence when Frank spoke of it, the past raised its weary head. I shouldn't have enquired."

"No," Adam took his cup, drinking deeply, boiling water coiling patterns on his tongue, "that is part of your resumé."

"It is part and parcel, yes. Still, I shouldn't have spoken. You've let me know what is wrong, until this." Her head span. "Do you blame yourself for the nightmares about your body, or David?"

"Sarif, to begin with. Now, I don't really know. I no longer believe he did this to maim me. However, I can't wrap my head around why he did any of it. He could have let me die."

"Could is better than should. I would have to speak with him, gauge his reactions, opinions and such."

She went for it, since Adam looked to be revealing much, digging deep.

"Do you think if you had been allowed to die, things would be any better? They'd certainly be different."

"Better? No. Different? Yeah. If I wasn't here, would any of what's happening have happened? Would Sarif have found someone else to experiment on? Who would have rescued Megan, her team? Would the people who drowned be alive?"

The man shuddered, some trembling, rambling forms wracked with debilitating pulses he sprinted past would not have survived, regardless.

"Adam?"

The woman asked, respectfully quiet.

"I cannot speak for your past. I can for now, however. The man before me? He had to learn through life's negative aspects, he became one with shadows, clinging, knowing all pockets of pitch darkness, remain unseen, mass-less. He'd rather stay an enigma, in lieu of public scrutiny. Your heart is in the right place, its steadfast, your morals steadfast, empathetic, trusting in literal sense only when you see someone's true face. Those people are few and far between, between bright lights, glitter, its glow veiling secretive deals, lives being snuffed out, pettiness the cause, correlation between it and the actual reason forfeit. You are bold. not too robust, the walls put up aren't made of solid steel, but of clay. It gives outward appearance of metal. You give off stone in spades, those implements unsteady. Those given the chance to peer around the barrier have only given you more clay, handfuls to be moulded into bricks. Quickly, efficiently."

Grace halted.

"She's back again."

Light wispy breath left her, impatience the cause.

"Impertinent." She cleared up her things. "A spade's a spade, Adam. You've been able to chip away at the wall lightly, chunks would be too much. No fist, slamming against it, ripping out chunks of grey mass, squelching in hands not your own. Graphic," Grace let that word slip off her tongue like jelly, slowly, effect paramount, "that's what permeates what you do. Everything you do has to be correct, truths backing it, propping up righteousness, an indecisive ally in times of need."

She took a sip of coffee, milk moustache just about dealt with, via tongue, tied to negative buoys, the liquid keeping it afloat.

"My degrees aside?"

The woman's eyes offered enduring altruism.

"I see you as bold, character kind, an ally to most. You give them a wall, when they need to lean, a shoulder, when they need to cry, an ear, when they need to vent. And, yet, you become your own shield, and I am not talking about your augments, when you ought to find something lasting. Permanent is heavy, for now. That word shall not be used here."

Grace's magnanimity shone through shadows cast by Adam himself. His darkness failed to permeate her beams.

Even her skin gleamed, cream rose, splotched with freckles that the man found ambrosial.

Around her? Adam saw the world not as black and white, but with colour, spectrum vibrant.

Not everything carried soothing hues, most carried sombre splashes of ink.

He was okay with that, the man holding no qualms, when what he saw was the truth of the world, its heart.

Its heart may have held indigo, but certain people threw orange into that mix, sunshine bright piercing the nebulous organ.

Grace rubbed her hands together.

"Take heed that you, too, are allowed to lean, laugh, think, feel. Use that fast mind of yours to create a slice of peace, tranquillity, just for you. A space for quiet comfort. Without vice," she added, voice changing pitch, in warning?

"Don't get drunk, act like everything's fine. Got it."

Grace sighed, eyes sudden daggers.

"Adam. Don't regress."

Adam waving his hands stressed her even more than she thought she could go, the line drawn further up than she knew.

"Did you listen to anything I said just now?"

Adam returned the intense glare.

"Did you listen to what I said?" He shook his head dismissively. "Thought not."

"Okay," Grace relented, "fine. What do you want to know?"

The spears Adam's emerald hues gave off? Their tips pressed against the woman's heart, pressuring the organ for specifics.

"What you really feel."

"What you want to hear, you mean? You can cease using those eyes against me too. I don't much like being poked by intensity."

She tilted her head, strands of brown billowing over her shoulders.

"What lays the foundation there?"

She closed her eyes, unable to face Adam's gaze. The intensity, her part was internal, melting her insides. It wasn't obvious to her, so wouldn't be to Adam, would it?

Wrong, quite wrong. Pink oozed from Grace's cheeks, blooming roses were both ears and nose afterwards. Adam raised a brow, heart slamming against his chest, it threw itself back and forth to the point where it hurt to swallow.

Was this what he thought it was? Was this moment hearkening back to the first time a girl told him she had feelings for him? Going so far as using the 'L' word?

Adam felt sick, failing to distinguish whether or not from fear or avid curiosity.

It caught up to the cat, but did not harm it.

Grace put out her hand, beckoning the animal over, before respectfully letting it sniff her hand, deeming her a good person, ultimately letting her pet it.

She found the spot behind its ears, the cat purring away contentedly.

Adam's fonder thoughts took him back to his adopted Mum, threading her hand through his hair when he couldn't sleep. It lulled him.

Grace lulled him.

Into a false sense of security?

She said it. She actually came out with it. Adam's heart stopped thudding, its beat now melodic in his ears, blood thrumming, all senses trained on Grace.

"If you must know...yes. I do harbour feelings for you. Though not entirely sure on what those are, as of yet, they go beyond doctor-patient confidentiality..."

She stopped. Adam's daggers melted into pools of mirth. He didn't want her to stop talking. Rolling his hands would come off as rude, the man practically having to sit on them to resist the urge...

"Something about the way you carry yourself," she continued, Adam letting out breath he'd kept in for what felt like an hour, "the way you think. It is unlike many I meet. You genuinely care for others. I see it in your eyes, your mannerisms. How you speak with Malik? Even Frank? Deep seated respect lies there, a continuous, defined rope that you cast out, when someone needs it. You respect me, past the job, that doesn't come into play. You see me underneath the suits," her wording made her snort, "my notes aren't all observations based on you as a patient, I will say that much."

Adam, intrigued really wanted to see those notes...

"I deeply respect you as a person, not a 'weapon' or an 'agent.' I do not place you upon anything or anyone you do not wish to be. I, I believe I see the man before the tragic incident. Adam, not Adam 2.0. Sounds like an anime..."

"Anime?"

There was Grace, right there. Adam felt privileged to view the woman as herself. The doctor had left the apartment, she was no longer in.

"You don't have to say anything."

Adam's silence drove Grace to say that, cover her backside.

"Glad I said it." She smiled earnestly. "You are a great listener."

She rummaged around in her purse, appointment cards supposed to be together, tied with a rubber band.

Damned if she could find the band, the blasted thing had seemingly vanished, taking the cards with it.

She used the rustles she made, and the fading light to her advantage to cover the flaps of butterflies in her stomach. Their wings fluttered pleasantly, decorating her face with pretty pastel coral, her pupils, in dim light growing.

If she could make herself believe Adam couldn't see her, then Adam couldn't see her, right?

Rationale knew he could, impish glee hoped he could...

Grace was good with words, using her mind.

Words of the heart? A whole other kettle of fish.

Adam unfolded his arms, sitting up straight, Grace his only focus, his prime directive. No one asked him to watch observe her, protect her.

But, he'd accept the job, if he'd been given it. He'd have be all too happy too, looking back on it.

Now, he'd sit, grateful to observe someone not about to die, or be maimed...

When Grace thought up an idea, her ears would move upward, the tips a tad pointed.

When Grace looked at her notepad? Her pen would hover above, hand poised, mind wondering what to write. The gears in her head would turn, she'd tilt her head, ever inquisitive as she looked at him. That would switch to polite wonderment as she hazelnut softness mixed with green sharpness. The green would reflexively spark up when the man frustrated her. This both exhilarated and clutched him, almost as if Grace was unsure how to handle him.

She was, at first. Adam was a bomb, diffused multiple times, but always had a fail-safe, which would kick in after the person who attempted to uncoil his crossed wires, put them in the positions they reckoned they should be in messed it up, unscrewed too many nuts in trying to get underneath his tough exterior.

Megan all but blew him up.

David crossed a few wires, some were wrong, but he managed to keep Adam's tumultuous explosion at bay.

Frank put the wires in their correct places, bringing the man's simmering point right down to sputters.

Sputters were better than any alternative at that point...

Grace? She got out the correct tools, handing them over to him. She held a manual that she wrote as they went, for him. Only for him. Her instructions tailored to him and his predicaments. It'd be a thick, heavy read after she was done, but worth it, for their sake.

Some instructions were edited, wiped over via Tip Ex, (in hindsight, damn that 20-20, she should have used a pencil,) others crossed out, when liquid paper had run out. Everything Grace did, she did for him. They were his appointments, but Adam began feeling them not a chore, but an opportunity. Not an appointment, a meeting of minds.

Grace challenged him, not too much, too frequently. She'd give him something to mull over, not homework. He wasn't a child, the one in White Helix he'd managed to set free. He wondered how adult him would be now, were things completely different. The timelines would always linger, there, in recesses of his mind he'd rather not talk about.

"Want a card?"

Grace dropped the card, shaking her head, incredulous with herself.

"I fall right back in line after my admittance. Why would you want a card?" She grew nervous. "This isn't an appointment. You don't need any more. Unless, of course," she sounded hopeful, chipper, "you'd want one? That would be okay."

"Okay with Doctor or you?"

Adam's brash cheekiness was enjoyed by the woman in front of him.

"Both," Grace affirmed, "more-so the latter."

A peruse of the many ticking clocks around her garnered a frown.

"It's midnight. There's one train leaving soon, I think?"

She picked up her purse, checking everything was present.

"Take care, Adam. I meant all I said. You mean a lot to more than you know."

Potential reared its head a third time, peeking out from curtains, from behind walls, listening in, taking in its surroundings, growing comfortable quickly. Grace felt comfortable enough to let the agent walk up to her.

"And what about to you?"

Grace hummed Que Sera Sera.

"More than you could possibly know. Though..."

She let him know through her eyes, C.A.S.I.E registering elevated breath, uneven pattern pulse he could see in her neck, Omega flashing. She was genuinely elated, not submissively so, and nothing said confrontational. Her body gave off relaxed, at ease.

Until Adam got a little closer, opening the front door. Eyelids flitted, eyes watching his movements, cheeks a tad hollow, sucking in anticipation. She was waiting, on standby, wondering what his next move would be.

Hers was to walk to said door, wait patiently by it, bag swinging gently.

"I can walk alone. I know, a woman alone, at night. Shock horror!"

She laughed aloud, Adam adoring that sound. Her guard was nonexistent here.

"But, I know its from respect, not 'you can't do it, I need to escort you.'"

Her impression had her coughing, throat regretting it. Adam gawped, mouth agape.

"Remind me to get you some throat lozenges. Just trying your voice gives me a sore throat. Yours must be raw!"

She teased, walking past him with a wink.

A wink.

That fucking wink threw Adam for a second, loop ouroboros.

Grace made it halfway down the hallway, laughing before Adam caught up with her, barely registering shutting the stupid door to his apartment...