The Fault Was Not In Our Stars
Grace sat outside the hotel, stirring coffee with a little wooden stick, the liquid whirring hypnotising her.
"Tell me something, Frank."
The tech placed his cup down.
"How long have you been planning to come here? I assume it wasn't to see Adam?"
Frank smirked.
"Correct. Since the two of you arrived in Prague, there has been a contingency plan. Malik and I were instructed to get you out."
"By David?"
"Miller."
Grace made a face.
"Miller? This was before I came here? Wouldn't be after, the man works tirelessly. He'd have had plans upon plans in his mind, backups, etc. He sounds less dull, compared to you." She teased. "A veritable rainbow."
"Rainbows are reflections, refraction of light. They disperse easily. Miller showed you what he wanted you to see."
"Did you?"
Grace inquired.
"I wouldn't be anything but myself."
Grace's face fell, eyes downcast.
"Sorry," she sighed, "I'm, not feeling myself right now. Adam needs space, time alone with David. My heart knows that, but my brain is arguing. It wants me to quiz David, work him out, see varying degrees of his personality, see if I can get beyond the CEO. Internal warring is so very tiring."
"Grace feels alone, the doctor feels overcome."
"Stop it," the woman let out a breathy sigh, "reading me like a book."
"Your cover gives it away."
"I thought I was a binder, notes, all sorts of tid-bits written inside. Not predictable, though not a mystery. Hercule Poirot can keep his job."
Frank took a sip of tea.
"His job is safe, as is yours. Oak Wood has kept your post open for you."
"Thanks."
Grace took a swig of coffee, this time tasting it, the world not looking quite so dull.
Consoling herself felt stupid, but she did it anyway.
This was Adam's time now, he needed to speak with David alone, no matter how much Grace wished to delve into the man's mind, business and personal.
"Can I go home, without being sniped now?"
Grace inquired, regretting the words leaving her mouth a second later. Not only did it interrupt quiet solitude, it caused her stomach to flip and Frank to squint.
He flat out mentioned what the woman hoped he wouldn't, his words twisting an already turning stomach. The tech may as well have shoved his hand down her throat, the good it would have done...
"Without Adam?"
Grace grew frustrated, blurting out whatever would shut the man up. Rational thought (she'd tried to dig a hole with prior mentioned shovels to conceal its existence) told her Frank meant well. He hadn't ever done anything, said anything to distress her.
The sad truth of it was she was distressing herself.
"Yes, Frank. He has loose ends to tie up, I don't. I can return home, my position is secured, I have no ties here."
"The Grace crying in front of me would say different. What changed?"
"I changed. I am seeing through eyes I didn't dare believe I would see through again, and, though some of me likes it, the rest of me is unsure."
The woman's voice grew louder, more desperate. Reigning it in failed, her ropes too short to reach.
"You can't put Adam in a corner and expect him to like it. You, of all people know that. I think my heart is putting him into a corner, throwing a lead at him and asking him to fetch Freud's ball."
She held her head, brunette locks slipping over her face like water.
"What in the hell do I do?"
Frank questioned her, not in the way she expected.
"What would you do? Consider Adam here. How do you think he is feeling?"
"Lost, estranged, caveat's blaring from a torn, augmented mind."
"Then why, pray tell are you speaking as if you are the only one affected in this scenario? You, too understand Adam, likely on a deeper level than I ever will. I think Adam doesn't know what he wants. Its commonplace for him."
Grace ran along the same vein.
"Are you suggesting I fill in the blanks? That Adam may need the lead?"
"Yes and no. He needs guidance, not leading. Walking before running. Jensen is bullheaded, he runs far before he can walk, ends up injured, then acting like nothing happened. People often lead him down their own paths, see if they can get him to think the way they think. Darrow tried."
Grace listened intently.
"Is David trying similar?"
"He tried. Adam isn't one for being paraded around, especially not, whilst unable to move on a bed, doctors staring at him, writing complicated analysis, administering drugs with larger, more complicated names attached to drip stands, pumped through him. He does not like not having a say, whether he is wrong or right, Adam is one thing in his life. The one, stable tether in his life? Drive. It was drive that pushed him through months of therapy, learning to walk again, function, practically infantile at first. I saw him, struggling not to acknowledge his situation, contain tears of despair, rumblings of a stomach he wasn't quite sure was his anymore. I saw his heart break several times, Megan not there to comfort him, wrap him up in a blanket not stained with misery. He asked for her, in delirium, sweating profusely onto laden rags, once white. It was drive that woke him, got him up those six months of turmoil, being bed-bound, livid with everyone and everything in his apartment. Hence the destructive tendencies that have, since petered out."
Psychology 101 taught Grace not to disturb the flow, let it happen as naturally as possible.
"Drive pushed him to go to Hengsha, Panchaea, despite knowing what he knew. What he thought he knew. Darrow proved him wrong on some things."
Frank fell glum, eyes distant. Grace really wished to help move him along, knowing that shutting up was her only real option.
"I lost contact with him, he stepped into a black zone, no contact in or transmissions out of the tower. I saw my reflection on a long forgotten screen, gone grey on standby. I had the same look Adam gave me during his time in recovery. Dread. I dreaded not hearing anything, that Adam would end up dead and I wouldn't have ever known until, possibly months later."
He finished his tea, passing up on a refill.
"Drive kept Adam going, to find truths among lies, light among the darkest of shadows, true evil among feigned favour. I pushed him to see you, seeing him fall yet again, but, it was Adam who chose to go, ultimately."
He paused.
"It was you who kept Adam moving, stopped him from rusting, seizing up. Your drive became his, your words his meaning, your sessions his purpose, his drive. That returned when you made breakthroughs. I saw him smile, a little quirk for the first time in years. He was truly making strides. The Adam I knew is there, I see it beneath all that has happened. His outward appearance makes no difference. It is you making him happy, wanting to get on with his life, as himself. The Adam he is now has always been the Adam he was. You see that, past his grievances, his uncertainty in himself. You were and are willing to see him for who he is. He is driven to you, not the appointments."
Grace sat up, soft beam lighting up her features.
"Frank," she teased, voice pithy, "I did what I could, and," she laughed, "you can see how I feel about him. That was a really kind thing to say. That was a marvellous rendition of Adam's time, your time with him. I appreciate you telling me that. All of it is golden nuggets, I sought after them, never thinking to ask the man behind the screens."
Coffee long cold, Grace drank it quickly, closing, scrunching her eyes with displeasure.
"Come on. I could do with some food. Its, what, almost five? Want something? It would have been my treat anyways, but, after that? Definitely on my tab. I think the two of us need some drinks too, process both that and carbs! Been craving garlic bread all day, kept smelling it as I walked to the hotel. Pasta too, maybe some pesto chicken? Hmm."
The brunette put a finger to her lips, using her elbow on the table as leverage to stand.
Frank sighed, laughed, swiped a hand through mussed up black tresses, standing to follow Grace. She grinned, getting out her phone.
"You, eating?! Well I never! Didn't think I'd see the day! Ought to record this, put it in the 'Frank doing things that most, normal people do, but he is far from normal' folder."
The tech paused mid-step.
"You have that?"
He didn't believe her, that much was certain, but Grace couldn't help but be a little mischievous...
"Oh, I do. It has energy drinks, the colour the likes of anything I have witnessed before, with my own two eyes, the time you had macaroni and cheese, with hash browns and coffee."
She pretended to scroll through this 'folder,' really scrolling through pictures of Freud.
"And just now. See?"
Upon turning the device, Frank practically bolted, getting several steps away. Grace doubled over, wiping her eyes.
"Easy to wind up, clever noggin, wit for days? You remind me of my Father."
Frank groaned, walking up to her, face stern, stance stone.
"That's even worse."
He put his palm on his face, covering mixed guile with duplicity, upon seeing his companion's face.
"My Father is nice."
Frank nodded, rolling blues, though at Grace's side now.
"Of course he is. No bias there. None at all..."
Grace returned to Adam's flat as her phone hit nine in the evening, nerves somewhat sated from her meal. A few rum and cokes eased the process along. She coughed lightly, making a fist, rapping on the agent's door.
It was dark inside the apartment, in no way an alarm for the doctor. It was the norm for her patient. Consternation lingered in the space, things unsaid, holding privative in the air, strings invisible. Playing shadows were little children, scurrying around, a game of tag gleeful. This wasn't a heavy dark, it was natural dark. One of Adam's own accord, not a clamouring mind's doing.
Gloomy but homely were the words on Grace's mind. They would have been on her lips, were it not for Adam's next move.
The man went from standing ten feet away, to striding, space between them now little. He dropped his arms, relaxing shoulders, eyes opening with abrogating fervour. It was as if the last few hours hadn't happened, or, they had triggered something within him, so he felt alright with offering affection.
Grace said nothing, sure her posture (she mirrored him unconsciously, opening herself up for closeness) said it for her.
Boldly, the pair closed the gap, Grace wrapping her arms around Adam's chest, deeming his neck a step too far at the moment. Adam wrapped his around her waist, her chest avoided, her neck too. Neither were acceptable areas for him to touch.
Somewhat tired, the two ended up on the couch, Grace's hand threaded through cropped, spiky, brown hair. She recalled Adam mentioning how Margie did this, allaying fears of a monster under his bed, mollify want to get up, run into his parents room to sleep with them. Grace conciliated him, lulling him into the couch. If he sunk any further down, he would be one with the couch.
She could have whispered sweet nothings, pacify him that way.
That wouldn't have been right, not the right path to stroll down.
She wandered, meandering her way towards his path, optimising silence to suit them, the mood.
Silence was gilded gold, precious metal in their hands.
Adam threw away the clay, much favouring Grace in his arms.