Chapter 12 (cont.) - Treason of Fate

A break in the storm

December 3, 2073 10:41 AM

Monica couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her hand. Strike that. Yes, she could. It was Syed.

That day at the launch station, right after they had knocked Julio out. She had stood on the launch pad waiting to be sent to the past and Syed had wrapped his fingers around hers.

She hadn’t thought much of it. Hadn’t savored the gentle touch of an honest man… hadn’t appreciated that she would never feel his hands on her again.

So when Dr. Sato had reached out across the table and wrapped his fingers gently around hers, she hadn’t pulled away. Even though she knew it was fake—a pretense at affection and camaraderie so she would trust him and tell him more—she didn’t care. He was her teacher, her adviser. And she needed him like she had never needed anyone.

“To be clear,” he said softly. “I would have recommended your suspension from the security program if you had allowed Shannan to remain living in the past. There is no world in which such a breach would be permitted.”

Monica nodded, her eyes flicking down to their joined hands in shame. It had all sounded so logical when Harry said it. Of course, Shannan and Syed could choose to go back or not. They were free human beings who could decide their own futures.

And she had been so happy to have someone on her side that she’d completely forgotten that her entire job was to keep people from doing exactly that.

“In hindsight, I don’t think Harry was basing his decisions on Warner policies.” A sting of bitterness crept into her voice at the memory of him. The memory of her own stupidity.

“You forgot the story of the bird in winter,” he said, sighing in disappointment.

“Yes,” she whispered, not needing him to repeat the fable of the bird frozen on the winter’s ground, who would have died if not for a cow shitting on him, warming him up enough to live. The bird was so happy at being warm again that he began to sing, which brought the barn cat running to him, delighted to have such an easily acquired dinner.

The moral? Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.

And not everyone who pulls you out is your friend.

“I really thought I could trust him,” she lamented, knowing now that even if Dr. Sato believed she hadn’t broken any rules… he might still kick her out of the program. And that he would be right to.

“So did we all. I’ve never met him personally, but if he was trusted on a lifetime appointment…” Dr Sato trailed off, his mouth turning down in disgust. “No one is above corruption, it seems.”

He released her hands, leaning back into his chair and blowing out a breath as he glanced at the clock. “I think we don’t have much time before the FBI returns from talking to Shannan. We’ll take a break and wait for them before we continue.”

Monica reached across the table and pulled out two more tissues, wiping her face, then blowing her nose. Crying in front of Dr. Sato was one thing, but it was quite another to let the FBI guy see her like this or Dr. Chandrasekhar.

Agent Chandrasekhar, she corrected herself.

She was dying to ask why the FBI was brought in at all. Why bring in outside scrutiny? But she didn’t dare ask. She could imagine the anger returning full force to Dr. Sato’s face and saying something like, It wouldn’t have been necessary if you had been more candid as to your relationship with her…

Having him mad at her was something she just couldn’t bear. What else did she have? Her best friend—only friend—had turned out to not care about her at all.

And Alfredo—whatever he was to her now—he probably didn’t care either. For all she knew, he was in the next room blaming her for everything in some half-baked attempt to protect Shannan.

“When they get here, you will abstain from any mention of what Harry said to you. Or anything else about him you have yet to disclose to me. Do you understand?”

Monica blinked, startled by the suddenness of his voice. “Uh… yes. I understand.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dr. Sato nodded and looked at her, the intensity of his gaze sharpening. “Agent Chandrasekhar is one of us. He can be trusted. But never the FBI. Do I make myself clear?”

Hard as it was, she kept her eyes level with his, needing him to believe her. “Crystal.”