Chapter Text
part i
She’d never considered herself particularly to be a giggler. In general, people seemed to think she was cold and frigid and serious, and though that wasn’t true, it lent her a certain amount of credibility to lean into people’s preconceptions of Professor Rachel Jensen the lonely career scientist. And maybe she didn’t have many friends and maybe she did spend a little too much time in the lab but that didn’t mean she wasn’t fun. She knew how to have fun.
Giggling though, that felt quite unlike her. She couldn’t ever remember having felt this giddy. Of course, she and Allison laughed together all the time, sharing little in-jokes over their work, teasing and bickering as they always had done. There was always a comfort in spending time with Allison, a shared dedication to the work that let them speak a language so easily that no-one else could understand. She always liked making Allison smile.
“I’m so glad we’re able to have dinner like this again, Rachel.”
She glanced down at the table, focussing on a stain on the tablecloth. They went to the most glamorous places. Somehow that didn’t matter though, because the surroundings were far easier to ignore than the nervous temptation to bite her lip. What was wrong with her? They’d been for dinner more than enough times, just the two of them. What was different about this?
Perhaps the near-death experiences were starting to affect her priorities. Maybe this was something she’d been ignoring all this time. “Me too, Ian. This has been lovely.” She let herself look back up at him, studying his face. There was a handsomeness there, she supposed. It had never been something she’d thought to consider before, but especially without a moustache he did have a very charming face. She couldn’t remember him shaving though. Surely she would remember something as monumental as that, if only to have teased him about it?
She must have been over-tired. Working too hard, as usual. That made sense. She continued, “And I’m so glad Allison is out of hospital. She must have given you quite a scare.”
“Oh, it was quite the shock. I’ve never imagined Miss Williams as a fainter – a screamer, certainly, but not a fainter.” Ian chuckled at his own attempt at humour and it occurred to Rachel that she probably shouldn’t find it funny but against her own best instincts, she couldn’t quite help cracking smile of her own. It wasn’t like he was wrong.
“Honestly, Ian. That’s not funny,” she said, undermined by her own poor effort to conceal a smile. “Allison’s been through a lot recently.”
“We all have!” Ian said, shrugging off any concern without a second thought. “If anyone deserves to kick back a little, it’s you Rachel.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” The retort was too fast, slipped out before she could really think it through. Was she blushing again? What was wrong with her tonight! She stared back down at the stain and decided to blame the wine. It must have gone to her head.
Carefully, Ian reached over to the table to take her hand, and to her surprise, she didn’t resist. To her surprise, it almost felt nice. “I really am glad we did this tonight,” he said again, a flash of sincerity crossing his face in such a way that Rachel didn’t think she could doubt it if she tried.
“It’s been too long, really. I’d almost started to forget what you looked like.” He laughed at that and she felt the compulsion to giggle again. But though it was a joke, she couldn’t quite help feeling that it was true. There was something about Ian’s face that she had never noticed before. Something she found she wanted to keep looking at, to examine. Stress and tiredness, that was what this was.
Later, he insisted on paying the bill and walked her out, and as she crossed through the door he opened for her, he took hold of her hand again and kissed it and the act shocked her so much that she allowed him to lead her by the hand back to the car. For safety, she tried to rationalise it. She was just a little tipsy, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t fall. He had always been so chivalrous, that was all. The fact that she had been disappointed when he let go didn’t have to mean a thing.
Much later, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling, the doubt would come back to her and she’d start to wonder if she’d been denying something this whole time.
Allison reached behind her head to pull her ponytail tighter, frowning before looking back down at the papers spread over the desk. Without thinking, Rachel leaned over to brush a stray strand of hair behind Allison’s ear, tucking it safely out of the way. Allison glanced up, blinking at Rachel through her eyelashes and Rachel withdrew, embarrassed to have forgotten herself so completely. They were the only two in the lab but it was hardly appropriate in a place where anyone could walk in at any time.
It was also totally inappropriate because anything she and Allison had ever had in the past was over. They’d both agreed it, wordlessly. Nothing good had ever come from it. It was better to keep things professional.
She could be stronger than the little knowing smirk Allison was giving her.
“What do you think of this idea, Allison?” said Rachel, trying to bring some order back to the room. “I think it will miniaturise the chip more, make it less invasive as an implant.”
Allison hummed in a vague agreement, keeping her eyes on Rachel, almost leaning closer as she focussed on Rachel’s lips instead of what was being said. Rachel sighed, her eyebrows knotting together. Her head had been aching all morning and this wasn’t what she particularly wanted to be fending off today. “Allison? What do you think?”
“Yes,” huffed Allison, drawing away, pouting ever so slightly at the rejection. Rachel almost regretted snapping but Allison could just be so childish and always at the worst times. “Though if you just adjusted the placement of these diodes,” Allison gestured, marking out various points with her fingers in explanation. “I imagine you’d have much the same effect without having to have all that extra space to begin with.”
Rachel stared hard at her drawings for a second, mentally making the adjustments and trying not to feel too guilty for assuming Allison hadn’t been paying any attention. She didn’t know what she’d do without her, after all. It wasn’t like there was anyone else with even remotely the intelligence level to truly understand what they were doing here. What she was doing. Allison might have been a big help, a good sounding board, but this implant was her idea and she’d be damned if someone else got the credit for it.
“Yes… I think you’re right,” said Rachel. “I’ll go over the plans this afternoon, then all being well, I want to start making the first mock-up to show Sir Toby.”
“You’re going to make it?”
“Yes! What, even you think I can’t do this now?” Allison recoiled like she’d been stung, stiffening as she stood up straight again. Rachel felt a twinge of regret again. Why was she being so irritable today? Allison’s suggestion had been good. She was only trying to help. But it was the other thoughts in Allison’s mind that were worrying and Rachel could read them as clearly as any equation. And like any equation that was wrong, they needed to be scrubbed out.
“Of course not!” snapped Allison back, blazing in belief of Rachel’s ability. A moment passed, tense and bitter as they both realised that they were fighting over nothing. Allison's shoulders slumped and softly, said, “You know I’d never doubt you.”
It must have been Allison who moved because Rachel could have sworn their hands hadn’t been close enough to touch. Still, she didn’t move away as their fingers brushed together, as Allison gave her those pretty, sad eyes that she’d always struggled to resist, as Allison let her gaze fall to Rachel’s lips again before staring up into her eyes, almost asking a question Rachel didn’t know how to say no to. Not when this feeling in her chest was the most certain thought she’d had in weeks.
Then the lab door clunked open and the moment was gone.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Hello, Group Captain,” said Allison, flashing him one of her most disarmingly charming smiles, barely glancing away from Rachel to make sure she knew exactly who the smile was meant for. Rachel hoped that Ian wouldn’t notice the look in Allison’s eyes, or if he did, would chalk it up to a solider boy putting Allison in a good mood.
“What have our clever little scientists been up to, hm?” he said, wandering over to them.
Rachel pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line and turned to face him. “We’ve been going over my design for the implant, and we think-”
“Jolly good,” he interrupted as though he hadn’t been listening to begin with. He had never been one to understand the scientific minutiae, Rachel supposed. There was no reason for him to start being interested now. He looked at them and smiled as if he’d just noticed they were there, then said, “Sir Toby wants a word about all this business if you’d indulge him.”
“He’ll have to wait. We’re actually very busy here and I have to write down some more-”
“He wants to see you now, Rachel." Ian stepped forward into her space to look down at her, his eyes hardening at her stubbornness. “Or are you disobeying orders again?”
Rachel took a sharp breath as she tried to steady herself, tried not to notice Allison flinching in the corner of her eye. “No,” she said carefully, though she could hear her own anger seeping through, feel her smile turn acidic. “You can run along and tell him that I’ll be there once I’ve finished redrawing the plans that he’s so eager for me to complete.”
Very rarely had she ever seen Ian look genuinely angry, clenched fists and a snarl. She knew him too well to be intimidated and even if she were, she knew better than to show it. She had never thought Ian to be this kind of man - never known him to be like this at all - but the way to deal with men was to pretend that nothing they said even touched her at all. She’d done this enough times in her life to know that. She’d just never expected to do this with him. And judging by the startled outrage of Allison’s open mouth, neither had she.
“You might think you’re clever, but we could replace you like that,” he said, snapping his fingers in her face to emphasise his point, “If we wanted to. You’re not as special as you think you are.”
For half a second his hands trembled like he wanted to lash out but before any real fear could settle into Rachel’s stomach, he turned on his heel and stalked off without another word.
“Well!” breathed Allison as the door slammed behind him. “What was all that about?”
“Don’t let him bother you, Allison. It isn’t worth it.” Rachel forced her grip on the desk in front of her to loosen before Allison could notice her white knuckles, but didn't let go altogether. She didn't want Allison to see her hands shake. “He’s just tired and stressed. It does funny things to a person, you know.”
Allison hummed in uncertain agreement. "So, making it smaller, right?" she asked, moving back to the reason they were there.
Rachel was glad for the distraction. Glad not to have to listen to the alarm bell ringing over Ian's behaviour. Glad to ignore the disappointment that Allison had stopped trying to ensnare her with hers.
It’s Ian but it’s not the one she remembers. It’s his house, but not the one she remembers. Her fingers on his jaw, his stubble reading an unfamiliar message under her touch saying danger! but that’s silly because her Ian will never hurt her. Her Ian has always been there for her. Always will be.
Has he been giving her this look all along?
She’s wasted all this time on not realising?
Why do her hands pass through him like she’s a ghost?
Here, in this place that isn’t his, he still has a moustache and his eyes are kind. She remembers kind eyes. They’ve seemed harder lately, somehow. Like he’s missing something. Stress and tiredness, that’s what she puts it down to. She knows what that does to a man.
The shape of him is one she knows so well but it seems almost like he’s shimmering, like he’s a snake shedding his skin and transforming before her eyes. He’s saying something, not that she’s listening. Despite herself, she’s watching his lips and trying to decide if the lines that surround his mouth are new, if they’re deeper than before. If his smile is still kind.
Even before this, that’s the thing she’s always known about him, always liked. Kind eyes. Kind smile.
Here, in this place that she’s been to a hundred times, he’s kissing her and she doesn’t make him stop. She catches sight of gold on her finger as she brings her hand back to his face and it all makes sense. None of this is real because it’s a dream.
Is it a good one?
It must have been, she thought as she woke, the fuzziness of her desire fading as she blinked in the morning dark. She knew what a bad dream was like. She’d had enough of them and they always woke her trembling in the night. It wasn’t like her at all to have dreams like this.
Stress and tiredness, that was what it was. She knew what that did to a person. All those long hours she was putting in at the lab. Implications of her subconscious that she could ignore.
“You’ve done a good job with all this, Miss Jensen.”
“Professor.”
“What? Anyway, as I say, this is a remarkable project. And it’s ready to go?” Toby shuffled the papers in front of him as though he had any hope of understanding the formulae and drawings. Even if he were scientifically literate, which Rachel knew he barely was, she’d intentionally made her report for him as technical as possible just to watch him frown.
“Yes, sir. Though I would like it if we could get some volunteers for a human trial before we roll it out to the masses. I was thinking that I could build some test implants before we take this to a bigger scale, just to really iron out any problems.”
Toby hummed thoughtfully, his glazed expression and distant stare speaking more of his ability to chip in with the right sounds at the right times than it did of how much he was really listening. Not that it was an unexpected response. Fortunately, Rachel did not and had never needed his validation for her scientific prowess so she didn’t care whatsoever what he thought. All she needed was him to tick the box to go forward, and the sooner he did that the better. He had been making her skin crawl more than ever lately and watching him behind his desk, his eyebrows frowning but his mouth smirking as he pretended to examine her documents made her want to run further away than ever before.
The look he gave her when he glanced back up made a shiver run down her spine, as though she was under an interrogation lamp or sitting her final exams, like he was searching for some weakness to exploit. She folded her arms and drew herself up to as full a height as she could manage, determined not to give him any ammunition.
“The thing is, Professor Jensen,” he drawled, the acidity making Rachel’s stomach turn. “I trust you. You’re a scientist. You follow the method. If you say that your implants are ready to go, I believe you.”
“It’s not really a matter of believe, Toby. To the best of my knowledge they’re ready, but the scientific method really ought to involve the most thorough tests you can do.”
“To your knowledge. And – correct me if I’m wrong – your knowledge is vast, is it not?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And so,” Toby cut her off. “I am choosing to trust in that knowledge. We don’t need trials. If you say it’s going to work, it’s going to work.”
“But I-”
“Work very hard and ought to have a night off,” he said, giving Rachel the distinct sense of being a naughty schoolgirl being told off. “Don’t go back to the lab tonight, Rachel. The Othello implants work. Go home. Or better still, Gilmore has been trying to get you to go for dinner with him all week. Relax. Spend the evening with him.”
She frowned, biting back a snide comment. “I really don’t think my personal life is any of your business, sir.”
“I’ll admit, the fine details of what you get up to with him don’t interest me in the slightest. But you should let yourself have some fun.”
“And you should stop being such a nosy prick,” Rachel muttered under her breath and steadied herself for the fight.
But Toby either didn’t hear or didn’t care enough to comment. “That’s an order, Miss Jensen. Find Gilmore. Go home.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with as much venom as she could muster. As she walked away to find Ian, she frowned. She couldn’t remember telling Toby about calling her project Othello. She couldn’t remember naming it at all.
She had never considered herself particularly the kind of woman who got flattered. In general, the only comments anyone tended to make about her appearance were derogatory, as though being a woman and a professor of science were incompatible things. Everyone who mattered knew differently so it didn’t bother her too much, usually. Even so, she spent a fair amount of time trying to strike a balance in her appearance between professional academic and attractive woman, but no matter which way she leaned she either got called frumpy or a whore so she’d learned to tune out any comments anyone tried to make about her, more or less. Her work was too important to let things like people’s opinions affect her.
So feeling her stomach flip when Ian told her she looked lovely was something she wasn’t expecting at all. Somewhere between butterflies and nausea, perhaps. To cover for it, an impulse made her kiss him on the cheek as they stood outside the restaurant, the smell of his aftershave filling her lungs and making it hard to breathe in the cool night. Perhaps it really was time to stop denying things. She knew what having feelings for someone felt like, more or less, and this was starting to get pretty close, down to the sweating, the shaking hands.
To her relief, her own thumping heart didn’t distract from the conversation as they ate and laughed, and all the time all she could think was how right it felt. How much she was enjoying this. How genuinely she liked his company. How stupid she’d been not to let herself fall like this.
As they finished eating, Ian turned his most charming smile upon her. “I’m so glad you agreed to come tonight, Rachel. It’s good to see you.”
“Ian,” she scolded, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “You see me every day.”
“You know what I mean. It’s nice to see you off the clock.”
Rachel couldn’t help the embarrassed giggle that escaped her. “I’m not that different outside of work, you know. I’m still the same old Rachel Jensen.”
“I mean,” he said as though he were saying something perfectly obvious that she simply wasn’t understanding. “It’s nice to do this. Just us. No Toby or Allison to interrupt. Just you and me, enjoying ourselves.”
There was an intensity in the way he was looking at her that couldn’t be anything but sincerity, and that made her chest feel like it was caving in. It almost felt like looking at someone she didn’t recognise at all. She had a fair idea what he was trying to say, but she needed to hear it. She needed to know this wasn’t some insane delusion she’d been selling herself recently. She needed to know what was real. “If you’re trying to suggest something is happening here, then you’ll just have to tell me. I’m not a mind reader.”
“You wound me. I thought you knew this was a date.”
“That’s what this is?”
“If you want it to be.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” There was no pause, no uncertainty. He just said it like it was nothing, like it was a fact with absolutely none of the bumbling awkwardness she’d always associated with him. Honestly, she’d never expected to hear him say it so bluntly. She took a deep breath as he asked in return, “Do you?”
A curious look flashed behind his eyes at her hesitation and a part of her felt almost bad at the idea that he might think she was leading him on. But she had never felt this way about him before, not really. He had been a friend for a long time, but this? Romance? This had never even occurred to her - not with him or any other - and now it seemed to be happening too fast, except every time they’d been out for dinner recently had felt like this: a warm, contentment of being with someone she liked.
Perhaps there was no more denying it. “Rachel?” he said, more gently than he’d said anything at all in the last week, which made her heart leap again. She had to say something, make some kind of confession, though of what she wasn’t sure. Fear, she thought. That was what she was feeling more than anything. Fear of letting him in. But it wasn’t exactly like she could tell him that, apart from the odd lukewarm fling as a younger woman when she’d still been under the impression that she could force herself into any average person’s idea of normality, every person she had ever thought she’d loved since, every person she’d let herself get close enough to touch had been a woman.
Perhaps it was time to give normal another go. Maybe she had just been waiting for it to be right all this time. All she had to do was say something and she’d be normal and this would all feel right. She just had to tell him and the fear would go away. She smiled and hoped she wasn’t shaking. That he couldn't see her shaking. “Yes. I do.”
“Good.” He smiled back at her, all teeth and charm like a shark. “Let’s get out of here.”
He paid the bill and walked her out, and she didn’t complain when he took her hand, didn’t try to shake him off. Instead, she clung to him like a life raft, like that would make this feel less like a catastrophic shift, like her tectonic plates were crumbling. Like holding on would make it certain.
As they approached the car, he squeezed her hand tight and pulled her in closer, his palm clammy in hers, his arm bumping against her shoulder. “Come back to mine for an after-dinner coffee?”
“I don’t know. I have a lot to do tomorrow, I don’t want to be home too late.”
“You could always stay the night.” He smiled down at her, charm but no warmth. She tried her best to summon another smile in return. But she meant it. She didn’t want to be up too late. All of a sudden, his hold on her seemed too tight, his presence too close in her personal space.
She shuffled back a little. “I’m not really that kind of girl, Ian.”
His expression shifted from one of playful concern to one of wicked suggestion. “I don’t believe that’s true for a second,” he drawled.
“Ian Gilmore! I don’t like the tone of your implications at all,” she chided, her heart pounding, her head swimming. Why was looking into his eyes so hard? Why did it make her feel like there was no coming back from the path she was walking down?
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just making you an offer, take it or leave it.”
“Always a gentleman,” she said, aiming for teasing though to her ear it sounded more like trembling. Another thing she had forgotten, it seemed. How nervous romance made her. She was usually so good at teasing him. It came so naturally, to joke around with her friend.
“You can decide on the way,” he said, opening the car door for her. “Get in.” At last, he let go of her hand, almost shoving her into the car. He slammed the door after her and as he got into the driver’s seat, she knew the decision had already been made for her. And though most of her wanted it despite trying to tell herself otherwise, there was still a small, shaking part of her that felt like she’d just stepped into a trap.