21. Aloof.
There's a transition period every morning around 6 o'clock. Clarke's workday begins to wind down around this time. He prints out status reports on all open projects, searches, and tests. He disposes of all active waste, that is waste that could compromise privacy or safety and there is always waste like this. He notes where he left off on any personal projects and files a short summary of what work he did during that shift. Finally, he closes out of any computer programs he used and hangs up his lab coat. He usually leaves a note for Abby, something simple and friendly wishing her a good day or leaving her a riddle of numbers or wordplay to solve. There's not always time to do this but when there is, it's a bit of fun.
This process takes less than an hour. It's a good feeling to look at the lab and see everything in order and ready for the next group. By the time Clarke is finished much of the lab's daytime personnel has arrived. Abby usually arives after Clarke has left but occasionally they'll run into each other. They didn't cross pathes today so Clarke left her a post-it note just as she left him one the previous evening. As he was putting on his jacket and preparing to leave, he overheard some co-workers talking about their dear director. One had ran into her near the elevator 15 minutes ago and had been so startled that he was still waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The other teased him, saying she was made of steel but not that scary.
Clarke didn't pause to hear to rest. He was quickly on the elevator, trying to get out the door and on the train before he did something stupid like go see Jen now that he knew she was in the building. He almost made it. He was out the door and across the street but before he could stop himself he was at Starbucks and then he was on her floor and then in her hallway. He didn't know why he was there. He hadn't seen her since the Chameloen Cafe. They had spoken once since then, an insignificant conversation about alcohol but that was it. He didn't have anything to report to her, nor did he want to ask her about her vacation. When it came down to it, he supposed he wanted to hear her voice, see that she was okay. Listening to what people had been talking about and seeing her web postings had him worried about her. Since Christmas he had only ever seen her angry or empty. She deserved better than that. She deserved to be able to breathe again.
Several minutes passed before he moved down the hall. He was still outside her office a few feet but he could see her sitting at her desk with glasses perched on her nose under impeccibly styled red hair. She was focused on her work at hand, writing furiously with a black pen. Director Shepard was certainly functioning even if the rest of Jenny had gone numb. He knew this woman well enough to know that busy work provided something of an escape, a respite from everything on Earth other than what issues might be addressed on a piece of white copy paper.
He watched her for a brief moment but then turned away, knowing there was no reason to interrupt her. He did not think she would be pleased to know Clarke was worrying about her. He did not think she'd even be pleased see him right now. Not even with coffee, not yet. She had said she believed what he said but she needed some action to back it up. Well, acosting her first thing in the morning at the office is not that.
He passed Cynthia in the hall on the way out and handed her the two cups of coffee. "For you and the Director, ma'am. Have a good morning."
Before she could respond he was on the elevator and headed home.
This process takes less than an hour. It's a good feeling to look at the lab and see everything in order and ready for the next group. By the time Clarke is finished much of the lab's daytime personnel has arrived. Abby usually arives after Clarke has left but occasionally they'll run into each other. They didn't cross pathes today so Clarke left her a post-it note just as she left him one the previous evening. As he was putting on his jacket and preparing to leave, he overheard some co-workers talking about their dear director. One had ran into her near the elevator 15 minutes ago and had been so startled that he was still waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The other teased him, saying she was made of steel but not that scary.
Clarke didn't pause to hear to rest. He was quickly on the elevator, trying to get out the door and on the train before he did something stupid like go see Jen now that he knew she was in the building. He almost made it. He was out the door and across the street but before he could stop himself he was at Starbucks and then he was on her floor and then in her hallway. He didn't know why he was there. He hadn't seen her since the Chameloen Cafe. They had spoken once since then, an insignificant conversation about alcohol but that was it. He didn't have anything to report to her, nor did he want to ask her about her vacation. When it came down to it, he supposed he wanted to hear her voice, see that she was okay. Listening to what people had been talking about and seeing her web postings had him worried about her. Since Christmas he had only ever seen her angry or empty. She deserved better than that. She deserved to be able to breathe again.
Several minutes passed before he moved down the hall. He was still outside her office a few feet but he could see her sitting at her desk with glasses perched on her nose under impeccibly styled red hair. She was focused on her work at hand, writing furiously with a black pen. Director Shepard was certainly functioning even if the rest of Jenny had gone numb. He knew this woman well enough to know that busy work provided something of an escape, a respite from everything on Earth other than what issues might be addressed on a piece of white copy paper.
He watched her for a brief moment but then turned away, knowing there was no reason to interrupt her. He did not think she would be pleased to know Clarke was worrying about her. He did not think she'd even be pleased see him right now. Not even with coffee, not yet. She had said she believed what he said but she needed some action to back it up. Well, acosting her first thing in the morning at the office is not that.
He passed Cynthia in the hall on the way out and handed her the two cups of coffee. "For you and the Director, ma'am. Have a good morning."
Before she could respond he was on the elevator and headed home.