File Search (WIP) Part 7
Been a while. Sorta. Anyway, took a break from this to write the AU and that random baby story. >_> I can't write multiple stories at the same time; I've got to do one at a time...The fact that I have this and the AU as long-running projects that are actually being worked on is a miracle.
Right, so, well, you know the drill. And hey, we're at 31 pages now! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.
Part 7, where things FINALLY happen. And if you don't like it, stfu. :| *shot*
----------
Erhardt and I took a severe beating for the little Tobasco stunt - well, verbally, at least. Luckily, he was able to contain it to a violent whisper so we didn’t get kicked out of the restaurant.
We parted ways at the entrance, with Erhardt living nearby and making his way to the sidewalk and down the road. Forrester and I had parked in close proximity and, with him having simmered down considerably since the coffee mishap, I decided to spark up a conversation.
“What do you do on the weekends?” I asked, leaning on my open car door. He looked over at me, bottom lip protruding in thought.
“Well, it seems as if Saturdays are going to be experiments and then Sundays will be fixing the problems of said experiments.”
“Oh come on, that’s a bunch of crap. The experiments don’t start until the night.”
“There’s still the prep.”
“What prep? Come on Forrester, don’t be lame like that. Get to the lab at five, we can be all set up and eat dinner with enough time to play a couple rounds of Doom before seven comes.
“…I…suppose.”
I grinned. “And we don’t screw up that badly. I’m sure you can make Sunday the way the Bible says it - you know, day of rest and all that.”
“Sure…but before that can happen, I have a camera issue to fix.” He paused, pushing his glasses up his nosebridge, concealing his eyes. “You busy? Wanna come along?”
There was a considerable pause before I answered. I wasn’t busy, no, but did I really want to spend my Sunday fixing a camera and probably end up talking science? Did I really…want to be alone with him?
Because as strong as I am and as confident as I appear, I am always worried and looking out for my best interests. This man had the methods and means to kill me if he so pleased. Then I thought of something worse than violence…My mind leapt back to when he had me pinned to the wall…I had done well on suppressing the thought, but now it was back, proclaiming its dominance in my head.
Was it even a kiss? Could it be called them if I didn’t respond at all? I was too stunned to even twitch when he had done it. Even the times long ago, whenever a boy did that to me…I could react. I could smack them away or reciprocate it.
But here I stood, facing the scientist, whose expression was waiting for a response. I continued staring. Why…Why on earth did he even care? He had no room for romance and, quite frankly, neither did I.
Idiot.
“I’m…not. Yeah sure, I’ll come.” I paused before adding some more dimension to my answer. “I want to do a little study of our subject once you get the camera fixed. Is that alright?”
“That’s fine. It needs to be done anyway. One car or two?”
“Two,” I immediately snapped. His expression didn’t change at all, which I took as a good sign before slipping into my car and waiting for Forrester to lead the way to the institute.
I thought long and hard about what we were doing. It had been a creeping thought, but over the past few days, we had not only violated human rights, but also stolen property and done a bit of trespassing. But all of it paled in comparison to the big picture.
If I remained serious about it - about everything - then that meant I would have to let go. I’d have to get over my emotions and my sensibilities and accept the fact that, quite frankly, my fascination with the subject outweighed any compassion I had for him. This was a rare opportunity. This was the chance of a lifetime, something I’d never have again…A human subject, completely isolated from the world…it was perfect.
Joel Robinson was the lab rat of the perfect experiment. Our trio - Doctors Forrester, Erhardt, and Pierce - had the ultimate administration powers. All we had to do was find the right one…find the right variable that would declare the experiment a success.
As of right now, that was going to be difficult with a broken camera. I followed after Forrester as he entered through a side door of Gizmonic so that whoever was on duty at the front desk wouldn’t ask us about our business. We made our way down to Deep 13 in relative silence, the jingling of coins in his pockets being the only source of real noise.
“…Pierce.”
“Mmm?”
“Why did you come?”
I rolled my eyes. “You asked. I had nothing better to do, so I said yes. Why? If you wanted to work alone, then it’s really easy to say so. You know - withhold the offer?”
“That’s...not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Nevermind. Look - gather yourself up for the interview with our test subject. I’m going to fix the transmission feed.
“Yeah, fine…” I wandered to the lab, rummaging around the mess before remembering I had made a drawer for myself in a desk that stood shoved in a corner. There wasn’t much in it, though the notebook I wanted was there. I flipped open the cover and looked at a few items I had contemplated on before.
The chip in Robinson’s arm gave us data on his physical being - weight, blood pressure, cholesterol levels, things of that nature - but the only way to get inside his mind was to ask the man himself. Chances were that it was going to be a bitch, because who wouldn’t put up a fight in this situation? When that actually hit me, I realized how much harder my job became.
Nibbling idly on my pen, I pulled out a stool and watched as Forrester began his work on transmission equipment. He had been wearing a tweed sport jacket, which was now resting on the partially-cleared lab table we had out in the main room. With that off, I was finally able to see him in non-professional clothes - he now had on just a t-shirt, though it too was crisp and clean, a simple black that was tucked into pitch-perfect dark blue jeans and a slick belt.
“What’s with your hair?” I finally asked. He looked at me, a tweak of annoyance clearly in his eyes.
“Whattya mean?”
“It’s…normal.”
“Of course it is.” He went back to diving further into the camera’s internal gear. “This is how I normally look.”
“Noooo, you normally look like some crazed loony. You know, the spikes and stuff?”
“Yeah…about those…that’s just for appearances. I have to keep up appearances.”
“Right…and - hey! Your glasses. Where’d they go? …Or are they just for appearances too?”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m wearing contacts.”
“Then - what the hell. Aren’t contacts easier to manage then glasses? Why don’t you wear them all the time?”
“I only wear them when I work. Something about their weight helps me focus and think better.”
“You make no sense at all. I don’t get you.”
He grinned. “Nobody does. I’m the wind, baby.”
I sighed. “Well, if anything’s consistent about you, it’s the wardrobe. Man, even in your weekend clothes you still look like a pro.”
“And even in your weekend clothes, you still look like you’d be going to work.”
“What - hey! Okay, lay off my wardrobe. I don’t have a lot of money to spend on these things. And besides, I have to wear a freakin’ labcoat, so why should my clothes even matter?”
Forrester didn’t respond, just chuckled. “Nothing…It’s kind of fun seeing you get riled up.”
“Gee, thanks you bastard,” I replied, sticking my tongue out. “Now I know that you’re just purposefully working me up to see my pissed off. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind so I can thwart you next time.”
“And I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Urrghh! Go die in a hole, Clayton!”
He stopped, poking his head out, mild confusion and curiosity on his face. “…What’d you say?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Go die in a hole?”
“No…the other part.”
“…Uh…” I blinked. “…Clayton?”
A very strange smile crawled onto his lips. It was…genuine happiness. “First time you’ve called me that.”
“Whoop de flippin’ doo, that’s your name.”
Forrester turned back to the camera, adjusting one last piece before withdrawing and snapping a case component back into place. “That should be it. Now…” He plugged it back in, flicked a few switches, and joined me at the lab table. I gripped the notebook in anticipation, hoping our problem was fixed…
There was static for about ten seconds, which set my heart in a panic. Finally, a blue screen appeared, reading ‘Connection to satellite in 1:30’. It proceeded to do a countdown, and the two of us heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thank God, I didn’t want to have to replace that,” Forrester murmured, packing away the screwdriver and wrench he had used. I opened my notebook and began drumming my pen against the open page. However, I was disturbed from my rhythmic pounding by a hand gently stroking the bottom of my ponytail.
“What…are you doing?” I asked, mildly annoyed, mildly terrified.
“Your hair…do you ever wear it down?”
“No, not really…”
“You did…once. I saw it.”
“Okay, so?”
“You looked pretty cute.”
The slightest tinge of heat came to my face. “Uh…thanks?”
His hand moved from my hair to my chin, which he tilted up. I stared right back, knowing he could see how I felt - and damn, I hated it.
“Do you remember what I said? About how you were supposed to be my assistant?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true, you know.”
“I know. I never said I didn’t believe you.”
“Well, look where we are now. Even if it didn’t go quite as planned…here you are, in my hands, as my assistant.”
“Excuse me? I’m not in your -” I stopped, knowing he was going to make some crack at the situation, especially since he had his hand on my face.
“Now…I don’t want you here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then…are you going to let me go?”
“No…I need you here.”
He tilted his head before I closed my eyes. The next moment, that tickling feeling came again - but it was against my bottom lip. Except this time, I responded. I gave in. His lips were still a bit chapped, but that was no matter. I didn’t care anymore.
Shit.
He loved me.
Worse.
I loved him back.
“…Woah-ho! Joel, is he eating her?”
“N-no Crow, that’s…uhh…am…are we interrupting?”
For one second longer we remained the way we were. Forrester, however, straightened up and looked at the camera. “No. In fact, there’s a purpose for calling you.”
I scratched the side of my head with the pen. “Right…I need to ask you some questions.”
“H-hey! You! I - you!” Joel pointed at me accusingly, shock riding onto his normally non-descript face. “I fixed your faucet! What’s the deal, huh?”
“Coincidence,” I answered non-chalantly, clicking the pen. “I have some questions to ask you. First off….how are you feeling?”
He stared at me. “Are…you…are you serious?”
“Last time I checked, yeah.”
He shook his head, slumping. “I don’t…Really? Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because the faster you respond…the sooner you get down.”
There was one theme we were following to get Robinson to respond. Our bait was simply thus: freedom.
“…I’m…I’m doing pretty good.”
I smiled, writing it down in the responding column. “Good to hear.” I wasn’t expecting him to respond quickly anyway. And honestly, I didn’t think he was going to snap anytime soon. But I kept these thoughts to myself; because the longer this was drawn out…the more fun I would get to have.
As both a scientist…and a woman.
Right, so, well, you know the drill. And hey, we're at 31 pages now! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.
Part 7, where things FINALLY happen. And if you don't like it, stfu. :| *shot*
----------
Erhardt and I took a severe beating for the little Tobasco stunt - well, verbally, at least. Luckily, he was able to contain it to a violent whisper so we didn’t get kicked out of the restaurant.
We parted ways at the entrance, with Erhardt living nearby and making his way to the sidewalk and down the road. Forrester and I had parked in close proximity and, with him having simmered down considerably since the coffee mishap, I decided to spark up a conversation.
“What do you do on the weekends?” I asked, leaning on my open car door. He looked over at me, bottom lip protruding in thought.
“Well, it seems as if Saturdays are going to be experiments and then Sundays will be fixing the problems of said experiments.”
“Oh come on, that’s a bunch of crap. The experiments don’t start until the night.”
“There’s still the prep.”
“What prep? Come on Forrester, don’t be lame like that. Get to the lab at five, we can be all set up and eat dinner with enough time to play a couple rounds of Doom before seven comes.
“…I…suppose.”
I grinned. “And we don’t screw up that badly. I’m sure you can make Sunday the way the Bible says it - you know, day of rest and all that.”
“Sure…but before that can happen, I have a camera issue to fix.” He paused, pushing his glasses up his nosebridge, concealing his eyes. “You busy? Wanna come along?”
There was a considerable pause before I answered. I wasn’t busy, no, but did I really want to spend my Sunday fixing a camera and probably end up talking science? Did I really…want to be alone with him?
Because as strong as I am and as confident as I appear, I am always worried and looking out for my best interests. This man had the methods and means to kill me if he so pleased. Then I thought of something worse than violence…My mind leapt back to when he had me pinned to the wall…I had done well on suppressing the thought, but now it was back, proclaiming its dominance in my head.
Was it even a kiss? Could it be called them if I didn’t respond at all? I was too stunned to even twitch when he had done it. Even the times long ago, whenever a boy did that to me…I could react. I could smack them away or reciprocate it.
But here I stood, facing the scientist, whose expression was waiting for a response. I continued staring. Why…Why on earth did he even care? He had no room for romance and, quite frankly, neither did I.
Idiot.
“I’m…not. Yeah sure, I’ll come.” I paused before adding some more dimension to my answer. “I want to do a little study of our subject once you get the camera fixed. Is that alright?”
“That’s fine. It needs to be done anyway. One car or two?”
“Two,” I immediately snapped. His expression didn’t change at all, which I took as a good sign before slipping into my car and waiting for Forrester to lead the way to the institute.
I thought long and hard about what we were doing. It had been a creeping thought, but over the past few days, we had not only violated human rights, but also stolen property and done a bit of trespassing. But all of it paled in comparison to the big picture.
If I remained serious about it - about everything - then that meant I would have to let go. I’d have to get over my emotions and my sensibilities and accept the fact that, quite frankly, my fascination with the subject outweighed any compassion I had for him. This was a rare opportunity. This was the chance of a lifetime, something I’d never have again…A human subject, completely isolated from the world…it was perfect.
Joel Robinson was the lab rat of the perfect experiment. Our trio - Doctors Forrester, Erhardt, and Pierce - had the ultimate administration powers. All we had to do was find the right one…find the right variable that would declare the experiment a success.
As of right now, that was going to be difficult with a broken camera. I followed after Forrester as he entered through a side door of Gizmonic so that whoever was on duty at the front desk wouldn’t ask us about our business. We made our way down to Deep 13 in relative silence, the jingling of coins in his pockets being the only source of real noise.
“…Pierce.”
“Mmm?”
“Why did you come?”
I rolled my eyes. “You asked. I had nothing better to do, so I said yes. Why? If you wanted to work alone, then it’s really easy to say so. You know - withhold the offer?”
“That’s...not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Nevermind. Look - gather yourself up for the interview with our test subject. I’m going to fix the transmission feed.
“Yeah, fine…” I wandered to the lab, rummaging around the mess before remembering I had made a drawer for myself in a desk that stood shoved in a corner. There wasn’t much in it, though the notebook I wanted was there. I flipped open the cover and looked at a few items I had contemplated on before.
The chip in Robinson’s arm gave us data on his physical being - weight, blood pressure, cholesterol levels, things of that nature - but the only way to get inside his mind was to ask the man himself. Chances were that it was going to be a bitch, because who wouldn’t put up a fight in this situation? When that actually hit me, I realized how much harder my job became.
Nibbling idly on my pen, I pulled out a stool and watched as Forrester began his work on transmission equipment. He had been wearing a tweed sport jacket, which was now resting on the partially-cleared lab table we had out in the main room. With that off, I was finally able to see him in non-professional clothes - he now had on just a t-shirt, though it too was crisp and clean, a simple black that was tucked into pitch-perfect dark blue jeans and a slick belt.
“What’s with your hair?” I finally asked. He looked at me, a tweak of annoyance clearly in his eyes.
“Whattya mean?”
“It’s…normal.”
“Of course it is.” He went back to diving further into the camera’s internal gear. “This is how I normally look.”
“Noooo, you normally look like some crazed loony. You know, the spikes and stuff?”
“Yeah…about those…that’s just for appearances. I have to keep up appearances.”
“Right…and - hey! Your glasses. Where’d they go? …Or are they just for appearances too?”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m wearing contacts.”
“Then - what the hell. Aren’t contacts easier to manage then glasses? Why don’t you wear them all the time?”
“I only wear them when I work. Something about their weight helps me focus and think better.”
“You make no sense at all. I don’t get you.”
He grinned. “Nobody does. I’m the wind, baby.”
I sighed. “Well, if anything’s consistent about you, it’s the wardrobe. Man, even in your weekend clothes you still look like a pro.”
“And even in your weekend clothes, you still look like you’d be going to work.”
“What - hey! Okay, lay off my wardrobe. I don’t have a lot of money to spend on these things. And besides, I have to wear a freakin’ labcoat, so why should my clothes even matter?”
Forrester didn’t respond, just chuckled. “Nothing…It’s kind of fun seeing you get riled up.”
“Gee, thanks you bastard,” I replied, sticking my tongue out. “Now I know that you’re just purposefully working me up to see my pissed off. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind so I can thwart you next time.”
“And I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Urrghh! Go die in a hole, Clayton!”
He stopped, poking his head out, mild confusion and curiosity on his face. “…What’d you say?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Go die in a hole?”
“No…the other part.”
“…Uh…” I blinked. “…Clayton?”
A very strange smile crawled onto his lips. It was…genuine happiness. “First time you’ve called me that.”
“Whoop de flippin’ doo, that’s your name.”
Forrester turned back to the camera, adjusting one last piece before withdrawing and snapping a case component back into place. “That should be it. Now…” He plugged it back in, flicked a few switches, and joined me at the lab table. I gripped the notebook in anticipation, hoping our problem was fixed…
There was static for about ten seconds, which set my heart in a panic. Finally, a blue screen appeared, reading ‘Connection to satellite in 1:30’. It proceeded to do a countdown, and the two of us heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thank God, I didn’t want to have to replace that,” Forrester murmured, packing away the screwdriver and wrench he had used. I opened my notebook and began drumming my pen against the open page. However, I was disturbed from my rhythmic pounding by a hand gently stroking the bottom of my ponytail.
“What…are you doing?” I asked, mildly annoyed, mildly terrified.
“Your hair…do you ever wear it down?”
“No, not really…”
“You did…once. I saw it.”
“Okay, so?”
“You looked pretty cute.”
The slightest tinge of heat came to my face. “Uh…thanks?”
His hand moved from my hair to my chin, which he tilted up. I stared right back, knowing he could see how I felt - and damn, I hated it.
“Do you remember what I said? About how you were supposed to be my assistant?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true, you know.”
“I know. I never said I didn’t believe you.”
“Well, look where we are now. Even if it didn’t go quite as planned…here you are, in my hands, as my assistant.”
“Excuse me? I’m not in your -” I stopped, knowing he was going to make some crack at the situation, especially since he had his hand on my face.
“Now…I don’t want you here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then…are you going to let me go?”
“No…I need you here.”
He tilted his head before I closed my eyes. The next moment, that tickling feeling came again - but it was against my bottom lip. Except this time, I responded. I gave in. His lips were still a bit chapped, but that was no matter. I didn’t care anymore.
Shit.
He loved me.
Worse.
I loved him back.
“…Woah-ho! Joel, is he eating her?”
“N-no Crow, that’s…uhh…am…are we interrupting?”
For one second longer we remained the way we were. Forrester, however, straightened up and looked at the camera. “No. In fact, there’s a purpose for calling you.”
I scratched the side of my head with the pen. “Right…I need to ask you some questions.”
“H-hey! You! I - you!” Joel pointed at me accusingly, shock riding onto his normally non-descript face. “I fixed your faucet! What’s the deal, huh?”
“Coincidence,” I answered non-chalantly, clicking the pen. “I have some questions to ask you. First off….how are you feeling?”
He stared at me. “Are…you…are you serious?”
“Last time I checked, yeah.”
He shook his head, slumping. “I don’t…Really? Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because the faster you respond…the sooner you get down.”
There was one theme we were following to get Robinson to respond. Our bait was simply thus: freedom.
“…I’m…I’m doing pretty good.”
I smiled, writing it down in the responding column. “Good to hear.” I wasn’t expecting him to respond quickly anyway. And honestly, I didn’t think he was going to snap anytime soon. But I kept these thoughts to myself; because the longer this was drawn out…the more fun I would get to have.
As both a scientist…and a woman.