Whereupon Isobel Stumbles Upon her Boss, Who is Very Very Drunk
Isobel walked into the kitchen, and stopped dead in her tracks.
Dr. Essex was sitting at the kitchen table. Which was littered with empty bottles. Bottles of what looked like liquor. Or, rather, bottles that had held liquor in them at one time or another. She had never seen her boss drink more than one or two glasses of port at dinner. This was...huh. All the liquor they had in the house, and then some. Maybe the neighbors. Oh, boy. She peered at him curiously. Dr. Essex was sprawled in a chair, his hair unbound. She rarely saw him that way, either. His shirt was untucked, the tie askew and several buttons at his neck were undone.
He looked...
Drunk.
"Ho, there, Isobel," he said, raising a glass to her.
"Um." Isobel stared at him. "Ah...hi, Dr. Essex. It's um, a bit early? To be drinking. Um. Sixteen bottles of wine?"
"Well, as to that, poppet, is 'ard to get drunk a'tall, if you 'appen to be me."
Isobel was suddenly concerned. She knew people from alternate dimensions. So they existed. Maybe she was in one? "You, um. Sound like a Monty Python sketch." She wasn't moving. Dr. Essex's accent was the kind the queen of England had. He sounded like Eliza Doolittle. Except with a deeper voice.
He waved her over. "I can share," he offered, laughing. He was peering at her through narrowed eyes.
Isobel was totally creeped out. "Did, um? Something happen? I mean, you got Rachel's email, right?" Did he think Rachel hadn't survived her trip to the moon?
Dr. Essex smiled. Well. It wasn't like smiling. Not really. "Oh, yes," he said quietly. "I did indeed get Rachel's email."
With that, he picked up a bottle, put it to his mouth, and upended the entire thing.
He slammed it back on the table. The bottle broke. Isobel thought maybe she should run. She didn't like the way Dr. Essex kept laughing like that. "But she's okay," she said, thinking back to the one she'd received. It had seemed a little short, and slightly manic, but Rachel always sounded like that. A little jagged.
"Bully for her, then," he snapped, leaning forward. He had jagged edges of glass embedded in his hand. Isobel didn't think he noticed.
"Why are you drunk?" Isobel moved into the kitchen. She was staying far away from him, not that it mattered. He was fast. He could be across the room in a second. All the hairs on her neck were standing on end. God.
"I did this once, did y'know that? Rebecca and I had a row. Not the one that killed her, but another one. I went and got royally pissed down at the pub, and I had to have some bloke help me home." Dr. Essex opened another bottle of wine. "I had a bloody hangover the next day. I still remember it, and it was a billion years ago." He pointed at Isobel. "I shan't have one in the morning, now, because of this bloody healing factor. Apocalypse does me a favor. Someone call the bloody press."
"Dr. Essex, what happened?" Isobel surmised that he and Rachel had fought. Over email? Or was she here? Dr. Essex was using bloody every other word, like he was trying too hard to pretend to be British, except that he was.
"Oh, no, she's not 'ere. I am, you see," Dr. Essex said, standing up--he was swaying on his feet--"I am a crutch." He had his arms splayed out on either side, indicating himself. "And that is why she had to leave me. She apologized very nicely for being a disaster, informed me I could not possibly love her, and then told me never to talk to her again."
"What?" Isobel blinked. "She--when did she tell you this?"
"Email, poppet. Bloody email." He sat back down again. "At least this one didn't bloody die. All my other relationships end that way. Well. Everyone I know'll bloody die, won't they?"
"She broke up with you in an email?" Isobel forgot she was sort of afraid of him right now and went to sit at the table. "Huh. That sucks."
Dr. Essex peered at her. "Yes. And so, in the tradition--" that sounded more like tradishun "--of jilted men the world over, I am getting pissed to forget my woes. Bloody women. Do you know what I do, because of bloody women? Let me just tell you, Isobel," he said, pointing at her--or in her general direction--again. "The firs' one, I try to save her from having a bloody baby that will die and break her heart again, and she keels over dead. The second, I let her go, and she dies without having chil'ren, which she was s'posed to do because that s'why I bloody kidnapped her in the firs' place. Bloody Madelyn--" he stopped, thinking. "She went nutters, stark raving nutters. And Rachel, my girlfriend, she gives me back m'emotions, and she goes to the bloody moon--" Dr. Essex blinked. "What was m'point, again?" His hand was bleeding.
"You should maybe have some water," Isobel said, remembering him taking care of her and Rachel when they were hung-over. "And are you sure that's what she meant?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure," Dr. Essex snapped. With his hair in his face and his shirt somewhat unbuttoned--he must have grabbed at his tie to loosen it--he looked very unkempt. He needed to shave. He'd been preoccupied when Rachel was gone. "Women. That was my point. This one, she gives me back all my emotions and she makes me bloody love her. Now I'm a tamed lapdog for the government because of her, and she's left me." He picked up a bottle. It was empty. "Bloody hell." He was staring either at her or the bottles, Isobel couldn't tell. She didn't think it mattered. Either way, he wasn't seeing her.
She stood up and went to the stove. Isobel always drank coffee. She tried to make him tea. There was no more wine, and if his healing factor worked fast, he'd be sober in minutes.
Isobel realized something as she stood by the stove. She was mad at Rachel. "She should have told you in person," Isobel said quietly. She didn't know if he heard her or not. "That's not right."
She looked back at Dr. Essex. He had, if possible, slumped further down in his seat. He had his head in his hands. For a moment, she thought his emotions had gotten the better of him. Oh, God. Here, he'd gone how many years without any--more than a human lifetime, and then some--and now, he finally gets them back and the person he loves leaves him. It could make him violent. Isobel remembered all the things he'd done, that she'd read in the file. He'd done those things without any emotional investment whatsoever.
What would he do now that he had his emotions? Did Rachel even think before she did stuff like this?
"I am not going to hurt you." Dr. Essex raised his head. "I am suffering the effects of my healing factor. Apocalypse designed it to hurt, when I healed. My body is healing from the alcohol."
"Oh." Isobel swallowed. "Dr. Essex, I'm...I'm sorry. I just, you're--"
"A bad man. I know." He stood up, looking very sober. She was used to dealing with Raven, who had pupil-less eyes, too. She was learning how to read expressions in things other than eyes. He was angry. And hurt. She could tell that, even if he wasn't admitting it.
As mad as she was at Rachel, Isobel was also worried about her friend. This wasn't good. What would he do, if he were mad at Rachel?
Dr. Essex was obviously reading her mind. "I said I wouldn't hurt her. Or you," he repeated, and his use of contractions told her he was still annoyed. He spoke flawlessly and politely and without smooshing words together like everyone else in the free world did. Except for right now. "We had this conversation, before, do you recall? You asked me if Rachel would try and leave me. Well, she has. I do not know if it is for good, I cannot tell. I imagine she shall do something remarkably stupid and self-destructive, regardless. I did tell you that I would not behave any differently around you, did I not? I have a very good memory, I recall saying it just that way."
"And that was before you got all your emotions back. Dr. Essex, maybe you should talk to her?" The tea kettle started to whine. She had no idea what to do, but started looking for some tea bags. "Where are the tea bags?"
"Please let me make this, Isobel. The last thing I need at the moment is a Yank fixing me tea." He walked towards her, but stopped. Waiting. What was he waiting for? "Do you wish to move?" he asked, somewhat testily.
He didn't think she wanted to be in the kitchen with him. Oh. "No." Isobel leaned against the counter. She relaxed somewhat. "You drunk is seriously scary. Never do that again."
Dr. Essex smiled. It made him look tired. And human. Isobel didn't think of him as a monster, not anymore. Maybe Rachel didn't, either. "We are all out of liquor."
"Right. Um. You're supposed to go to Disney?"
He nodded, pouring water into the teacup. "Yes. We both are, as a matter of fact. You go, I shall stay here and work."
"You can't. Bea'll be devastated," Isobel said quickly. If she could get Rachel and Dr. Essex in the same room, maybe they could talk.
"That shan't work. She shall go for my throat." Dr. Essex sipped his tea.
"Yes, but, you know, you both...I mean, that's sort of your thing?" Isobel said hopefully. She was blushing.
Dr. Essex slammed his hand on the counter. Isobel jumped, giving a small yelp. "I am tired of being nothing but a way for Rachel Grey to punish herself," he snapped, raking a hand through his hair so violently, Isobel winced in sympathy. He sighed. "Please, I--I apologize. I should not have...please do forgive me, Isobel, I would very much like to be alone at the moment."
Isobel nodded. She understood. Before she left the kitchen, she put her hand on his arm. He tensed immediately. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel," she said quietly, using his first name for the first time since they'd met. "You deserve better than being dumped over email."
He gave her what could possibly be the most chilling smile Isobel had ever seen. "No, poppet," he said quietly, using the old-fashioned endearment Mystique was fond of using for her, "I really do not." He caught her hand and gave her a rather courtly bow. "Please leave me alone, now. I shall meet you in the laboratory for work as usual in the morning. We shan't discuss this again, it is inappropriate. I am fine. I shall clean up my mess."
Isobel nodded. She didn't believe that they wouldn't talk about it again. He probably didn't, either. But Dr. Essex was a proud man. Isobel left the kitchen and went to her bedroom. She was going to email Rachel. In a few days, maybe. Isobel stayed in her room until dinner, then she went back to the main house. There was no sign of Dr. Essex anywhere, but she could hear him. Playing the piano, in the study. All through dinner, and straight through the movie she pretended she was watching. It was still playing when she went to bed.
She had a feeling he was going to play until morning.
Dr. Essex was sitting at the kitchen table. Which was littered with empty bottles. Bottles of what looked like liquor. Or, rather, bottles that had held liquor in them at one time or another. She had never seen her boss drink more than one or two glasses of port at dinner. This was...huh. All the liquor they had in the house, and then some. Maybe the neighbors. Oh, boy. She peered at him curiously. Dr. Essex was sprawled in a chair, his hair unbound. She rarely saw him that way, either. His shirt was untucked, the tie askew and several buttons at his neck were undone.
He looked...
Drunk.
"Ho, there, Isobel," he said, raising a glass to her.
"Um." Isobel stared at him. "Ah...hi, Dr. Essex. It's um, a bit early? To be drinking. Um. Sixteen bottles of wine?"
"Well, as to that, poppet, is 'ard to get drunk a'tall, if you 'appen to be me."
Isobel was suddenly concerned. She knew people from alternate dimensions. So they existed. Maybe she was in one? "You, um. Sound like a Monty Python sketch." She wasn't moving. Dr. Essex's accent was the kind the queen of England had. He sounded like Eliza Doolittle. Except with a deeper voice.
He waved her over. "I can share," he offered, laughing. He was peering at her through narrowed eyes.
Isobel was totally creeped out. "Did, um? Something happen? I mean, you got Rachel's email, right?" Did he think Rachel hadn't survived her trip to the moon?
Dr. Essex smiled. Well. It wasn't like smiling. Not really. "Oh, yes," he said quietly. "I did indeed get Rachel's email."
With that, he picked up a bottle, put it to his mouth, and upended the entire thing.
He slammed it back on the table. The bottle broke. Isobel thought maybe she should run. She didn't like the way Dr. Essex kept laughing like that. "But she's okay," she said, thinking back to the one she'd received. It had seemed a little short, and slightly manic, but Rachel always sounded like that. A little jagged.
"Bully for her, then," he snapped, leaning forward. He had jagged edges of glass embedded in his hand. Isobel didn't think he noticed.
"Why are you drunk?" Isobel moved into the kitchen. She was staying far away from him, not that it mattered. He was fast. He could be across the room in a second. All the hairs on her neck were standing on end. God.
"I did this once, did y'know that? Rebecca and I had a row. Not the one that killed her, but another one. I went and got royally pissed down at the pub, and I had to have some bloke help me home." Dr. Essex opened another bottle of wine. "I had a bloody hangover the next day. I still remember it, and it was a billion years ago." He pointed at Isobel. "I shan't have one in the morning, now, because of this bloody healing factor. Apocalypse does me a favor. Someone call the bloody press."
"Dr. Essex, what happened?" Isobel surmised that he and Rachel had fought. Over email? Or was she here? Dr. Essex was using bloody every other word, like he was trying too hard to pretend to be British, except that he was.
"Oh, no, she's not 'ere. I am, you see," Dr. Essex said, standing up--he was swaying on his feet--"I am a crutch." He had his arms splayed out on either side, indicating himself. "And that is why she had to leave me. She apologized very nicely for being a disaster, informed me I could not possibly love her, and then told me never to talk to her again."
"What?" Isobel blinked. "She--when did she tell you this?"
"Email, poppet. Bloody email." He sat back down again. "At least this one didn't bloody die. All my other relationships end that way. Well. Everyone I know'll bloody die, won't they?"
"She broke up with you in an email?" Isobel forgot she was sort of afraid of him right now and went to sit at the table. "Huh. That sucks."
Dr. Essex peered at her. "Yes. And so, in the tradition--" that sounded more like tradishun "--of jilted men the world over, I am getting pissed to forget my woes. Bloody women. Do you know what I do, because of bloody women? Let me just tell you, Isobel," he said, pointing at her--or in her general direction--again. "The firs' one, I try to save her from having a bloody baby that will die and break her heart again, and she keels over dead. The second, I let her go, and she dies without having chil'ren, which she was s'posed to do because that s'why I bloody kidnapped her in the firs' place. Bloody Madelyn--" he stopped, thinking. "She went nutters, stark raving nutters. And Rachel, my girlfriend, she gives me back m'emotions, and she goes to the bloody moon--" Dr. Essex blinked. "What was m'point, again?" His hand was bleeding.
"You should maybe have some water," Isobel said, remembering him taking care of her and Rachel when they were hung-over. "And are you sure that's what she meant?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure," Dr. Essex snapped. With his hair in his face and his shirt somewhat unbuttoned--he must have grabbed at his tie to loosen it--he looked very unkempt. He needed to shave. He'd been preoccupied when Rachel was gone. "Women. That was my point. This one, she gives me back all my emotions and she makes me bloody love her. Now I'm a tamed lapdog for the government because of her, and she's left me." He picked up a bottle. It was empty. "Bloody hell." He was staring either at her or the bottles, Isobel couldn't tell. She didn't think it mattered. Either way, he wasn't seeing her.
She stood up and went to the stove. Isobel always drank coffee. She tried to make him tea. There was no more wine, and if his healing factor worked fast, he'd be sober in minutes.
Isobel realized something as she stood by the stove. She was mad at Rachel. "She should have told you in person," Isobel said quietly. She didn't know if he heard her or not. "That's not right."
She looked back at Dr. Essex. He had, if possible, slumped further down in his seat. He had his head in his hands. For a moment, she thought his emotions had gotten the better of him. Oh, God. Here, he'd gone how many years without any--more than a human lifetime, and then some--and now, he finally gets them back and the person he loves leaves him. It could make him violent. Isobel remembered all the things he'd done, that she'd read in the file. He'd done those things without any emotional investment whatsoever.
What would he do now that he had his emotions? Did Rachel even think before she did stuff like this?
"I am not going to hurt you." Dr. Essex raised his head. "I am suffering the effects of my healing factor. Apocalypse designed it to hurt, when I healed. My body is healing from the alcohol."
"Oh." Isobel swallowed. "Dr. Essex, I'm...I'm sorry. I just, you're--"
"A bad man. I know." He stood up, looking very sober. She was used to dealing with Raven, who had pupil-less eyes, too. She was learning how to read expressions in things other than eyes. He was angry. And hurt. She could tell that, even if he wasn't admitting it.
As mad as she was at Rachel, Isobel was also worried about her friend. This wasn't good. What would he do, if he were mad at Rachel?
Dr. Essex was obviously reading her mind. "I said I wouldn't hurt her. Or you," he repeated, and his use of contractions told her he was still annoyed. He spoke flawlessly and politely and without smooshing words together like everyone else in the free world did. Except for right now. "We had this conversation, before, do you recall? You asked me if Rachel would try and leave me. Well, she has. I do not know if it is for good, I cannot tell. I imagine she shall do something remarkably stupid and self-destructive, regardless. I did tell you that I would not behave any differently around you, did I not? I have a very good memory, I recall saying it just that way."
"And that was before you got all your emotions back. Dr. Essex, maybe you should talk to her?" The tea kettle started to whine. She had no idea what to do, but started looking for some tea bags. "Where are the tea bags?"
"Please let me make this, Isobel. The last thing I need at the moment is a Yank fixing me tea." He walked towards her, but stopped. Waiting. What was he waiting for? "Do you wish to move?" he asked, somewhat testily.
He didn't think she wanted to be in the kitchen with him. Oh. "No." Isobel leaned against the counter. She relaxed somewhat. "You drunk is seriously scary. Never do that again."
Dr. Essex smiled. It made him look tired. And human. Isobel didn't think of him as a monster, not anymore. Maybe Rachel didn't, either. "We are all out of liquor."
"Right. Um. You're supposed to go to Disney?"
He nodded, pouring water into the teacup. "Yes. We both are, as a matter of fact. You go, I shall stay here and work."
"You can't. Bea'll be devastated," Isobel said quickly. If she could get Rachel and Dr. Essex in the same room, maybe they could talk.
"That shan't work. She shall go for my throat." Dr. Essex sipped his tea.
"Yes, but, you know, you both...I mean, that's sort of your thing?" Isobel said hopefully. She was blushing.
Dr. Essex slammed his hand on the counter. Isobel jumped, giving a small yelp. "I am tired of being nothing but a way for Rachel Grey to punish herself," he snapped, raking a hand through his hair so violently, Isobel winced in sympathy. He sighed. "Please, I--I apologize. I should not have...please do forgive me, Isobel, I would very much like to be alone at the moment."
Isobel nodded. She understood. Before she left the kitchen, she put her hand on his arm. He tensed immediately. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel," she said quietly, using his first name for the first time since they'd met. "You deserve better than being dumped over email."
He gave her what could possibly be the most chilling smile Isobel had ever seen. "No, poppet," he said quietly, using the old-fashioned endearment Mystique was fond of using for her, "I really do not." He caught her hand and gave her a rather courtly bow. "Please leave me alone, now. I shall meet you in the laboratory for work as usual in the morning. We shan't discuss this again, it is inappropriate. I am fine. I shall clean up my mess."
Isobel nodded. She didn't believe that they wouldn't talk about it again. He probably didn't, either. But Dr. Essex was a proud man. Isobel left the kitchen and went to her bedroom. She was going to email Rachel. In a few days, maybe. Isobel stayed in her room until dinner, then she went back to the main house. There was no sign of Dr. Essex anywhere, but she could hear him. Playing the piano, in the study. All through dinner, and straight through the movie she pretended she was watching. It was still playing when she went to bed.
She had a feeling he was going to play until morning.