Chapter 3: Bonding

Otto waited patiently as the lift ascended and tried to block out the tune 'Girl from Panama' that was playing overhead.

He knew he'd have it stuck in his head most of the day and that would just lead to him taking his anger out on his work.

And then Ada would have to correct his work, but she wouldn't say a word when she did. It had been a month already, but she seemed to be getting used to him and he seemed to have finally found an assistant that was competent. He'd only made one minor mistake, but when she pointed it out to him, he made sure to make it seem that he purposefully put it there, just to make sure SHE noticed.

He had hoped she bought it. His ego was slightly deflated, but as Rosie once said, 'it is normal for people to make mistakes. Especially when they haven't eaten.'

He'd promised himself that he'd concentrate more. And remember to eat on time.

As the lift finally arrived on his floor, he tucked the thick folder under his arm and made his way out. The glass walls of the lab showed a glimpse inside for visitors and he could see Ada was still at her table. But something was different from when he'd left.

As he came to the door and went inside, he looked at her in shock.

Ever since she'd started working for him, she'd always worn long skirts and trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. The AC had been on the fritz, and he'd been wondering how she could stand the heat of New York weather in full summer swing.

When he'd left earlier, he'd told her he'd probably take a few hours searching for the work he needed in the archives. But Heather, the wonderful receptionist downstairs, had saved him a job in searching the catalogues when she merely looked up the placement on her computer.

Evidently, Ada had taken the moment to cool herself down and wore a tank top with her skirt today. But the skirt had rolled up and Otto could see the reason why she usually covered herself.

Around her knee, she appeared to have a large, painful-looking scar that was mirrored on her arm. He couldn't tell exactly what had happened, but they appeared to be bite marks from something…big.

And she hadn't heard him come back as her new appearance also came with a pair of discrete headphones.

Quickly, he gathered his wits and realised the best tactic was to act normal.

He walked purposefully into the office and made sure his voice was loud.

"As far as I can remember, I'm sure I stated you can listen to your music ONLY when you're on your break," he didn't even look at her as he went straight to his desk and dropped the folder down.

"Doc-doctor Octavius!"

He did look at her then when she gasped in surprise and quickly grabbed her long shirt from the table and struggled with it.

"It's alright, you don't have to dress up in this heat," he hoped to make her as comfortable as possible, "when Norman fixes the AC THEN you can worry about looking smart."

"It's not that, I just-damn!" She grunted in frustration but looked apologetic as he glanced at her, "Sorry. I've ripped my button off."

He could see her getting more and more flustered and tried a different approach.

"Miss Daly," he tried to make his tone gentler, "your looks do not bother me. I'm your boss. I'm not going to judge you. Leave your shirt off."

She looked at him for a moment longer and he thought he might have offended her. She cautiously put down her shirt and looked down at her paper.

"Thank you. I…I usually don't show off my scars."

"I know a few people who would say the same," his claws gave a little wiggle behind him, and he gestured to them, "and at least you can wear clothes that cover your...what's a good word?"

"Undesirable gross skin?"

"Unsightly scars."

She looked back up and seemed to be a bit more relaxed.

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever called them."

Otto was very curious about what she meant but decided to start the conversation off a little easier.

He picked up the folder from his desk and bought it over to hers, pulling up a chair opposite.

"May I ask what happened? If it's not too much of a bother?"

She seemed to be observing him for a moment and he wondered what she thought.

What she thought was, 'Is he trying to be nice?' and decided NOT to throw it away.

"It doesn't bother me. It's a little…long. Bear with me," she placed her hands together on the desk so he could see her arm properly and she began, "when I was thirteen, I went through a rebellious phase."

"As we all do."

She smirked.

"I know most people go to concerts or sneak out with their friends, but I've always liked swimming. And one day, a friend gave me an old surfboard and I started teaching myself."

"Not New York?"

She snorted at him.

"California. We lived there for a few years, me, and my parents. They…did not approve of sports or outdoor activities that weren't for the betterment of science or research and saw no point in my new 'hobby.' But I would go out anyway, claiming I wanted to read at the beach and hide my board near the pier."

She paused for a moment and grabbed a pen, nervously fiddling with it as she continued to reveal her past.

"On a Sunday, I left again, got my board, and got into the sea. I spent hours just…riding the waves and having fun. I wasn't alone, but I decided to go out a little farther and just paddle. I laid down flat and was just moving back in when…I felt something grab me from below the water."

"Great white?" He queried and she nodded her head, though continued to stare blankly ahead.

"He probably thought I was a seal. He took a bite out of my leg, and I fell straight into the water. He let me go and then…took another bite from my arm. I was terrified, but once it swam away, I realised it wasn't actively trying to eat me. Just…try and test. Like in the supermarket. It felt like getting kicked by a footballer wearing metal studded shoes."

Otto could not imagine the pain she had gone through. The minimal agony he had felt the day of the accident that had changed his life and left him with his robotic claws had been numbed due to the medication and cautions he took.

"I was lucky a jet skier came to get me when he did. I went to the hospital and my folks found out, of course. But they weren't as angry as I thought….my mother mostly cried," she dropped the pen and then seemed to force a smile, "at least I got to studying. I stopped rebelling and spent most of the next year inside, cramming as hard as I could. Reading whatever I could get my hands on. Summer, autumn, winter…all in bed. Even when I was able to walk again without pain, I still stayed in."

Otto couldn't believe it. He'd never met anyone so like him to share in such an experience.

"I…well, you probably hear 'I know how you feel' a lot, but I truly do," he recalled one of the most frightening moments of his adolescence, "I had a similar accident when I was a child."

"You got attacked by a shark?" She arched her brow, but he had to smile at the little quiver at the corner of her mouth, showing she was attempting to hide her humour.

"No. But I was ice skating with friends when I was a boy and fell through. I was under for less than a minute, but I couldn't swim. One of my friend's father's dove in and saved my life, but I'd caught my arm badly on the way down. On top of that, I caught pneumonia and was forced to stay in bed. All through December and even Christmas, I was in an out of consciousness. But when I was awake, I read every single book my grandfather brought me. And he had over two hundred books on science."

"I'm jealous," she made a small laugh of surprise, "I think we only owned about fifty. My mum is a huge fan of libraries."

"Me too. But we couldn't afford the fees back then. You know, it's strange…even when I was healed and I wanted to get back out there and try again…I kept saying, 'one more chapter, and then we'll go outside.' And then-"

"You read another chapter and by the time you'd finished the book-"

"It was night out."

They both shared a smile, understanding one another and their love of books perfectly.

"That's the power of a good book. Fiction or non-fiction. I wanted to get back in the water some days, but the bookstore would call to me louder than the waves ever did. What was your favourite book?"

"Fiction or non-fiction."

"Actually, both."

"Gulliver's Travels and A Brief History of Time," he said without missing a beat. He'd remember fondly travelling with Gulliver through Lilliput and had longed to become one with the Houyhnhnms. And Hawking had reached him at his darkest and most dire day when he felt like giving his entire profession up and running away. But Rosie had bought him the book for his birthday and he'd picked it up and found the nerve he needed to carry on.

"Little Women and….the story of Execution through the ages," she bit her lip in an almost guilty manner, but Otto just raised his eyebrow, "ok, my dad thought I was going to be a historian. Unfortunately, I got interested in the 'stranger' side of history, so they paid for extra science lessons to get my interest."

It didn't escape his notice the way her tone changed when she mentioned her parents.

"Your parents made a lot of decisions for you." "They did," she gave a short sigh and nodded, "I've come to terms with the fact that they made a lot of choices based on what they wanted for me…but not what they thought I'd like. That's part of the reason I took this job. When they ask about it, I merely say, 'It's confidential government business, can't talk about it,' and they draw their own conclusions. They choose to either be proud or disappointed and I can be happy."

"Are you happy?" He asked before he could stop himself. But really, he wanted to know.

She thought for a moment before meeting his gaze and smiling. "Right now? Yes. You?" Otto took his time as she did, but he didn't have an answer for her. Was he happy in his personal life? Work-life? Life, overall?

Fate, it seemed, was on his side.

Outside their lab doors, a loud 'ping' sounded, announcing someone arriving in the elevator.

Ada smiled and swivelled off the chair.

"Saved by the bell."

Like the good assistant she was, she approached the door, intent on letting their guests in before they had a chance to knock.

"Miss Daly," he called, seeing she wasn't wearing her long shirt or coat, "don't be afraid to wear what you're wearing now. It gets hotter than hell in here sometimes and I'd rather you be comfortable."

She looked down at herself and then, feeling renewed confidence, squared her shoulders and schooled her features into a polite greeting, nodding her head.

"Thank you, Doctor."

She opened the door and they both watched as Norman arrived with two other men in suits in tow. Surprisingly, it was the shiny badges attached to their belts that gave away who the visitors were.

"Apologies for showing up unannounced Otto," Norman looked aggrieved, tucking his tie back in between the folds of his jacket, "Detective Sheridan and Detective Holland wish to speak with you."