20 Minutes Ago - ACME Medical Centre
The rhythmic rotor-sounds of the last air ambulance to leave the ACME Medical Centre faded into the ambient noise created by the surrounding cityscape, the crowd on the ACME compound and the surveillance aircraft that lingered above it. Sophie Conrad stood a few metres away from the helipad, with one hand tucked into the pocket of a half-zipped parka, and another hand tightly wrapped around a half-frozen and yet-unopened bottle of Dr Pepper. Her damp red-coloured hair framed her face in flyaway strands as she watched the blinking lights on the helicopter until it had blended into the other lights in the sky. A sharp metallic sound made her turn.
Sheila Matthews, one of the two senior attending physicians who remained on-duty in the Medical Centre, lifted a violently-dancing flame. “Go home,” she muttered – her voice a growl as she glared over the cigarette hanging from her lips to Sophie who, with an indeterminable shrug, replied by diverting their gazes out toward the mass of people and vehicles that choked up the private road serving the ACME compound: “In that traffic?”
Sheila chuckled and inhaled.
Strolling side-by-side toward the edge of the Medical Centre’s roof level, the two women leaned against the polished metal rail and stared out into the mess that reigned upon the open grounds below. Sophie glanced over at her colleague and momentarily thought about how the amber glow from the freshly-lit cigarette completed the senior doctor’s misleading looks – the over-dyed golden highlights in her hair, the flecks of light in her hardened brown eyes, and even the rebellious shimmer of her eye-shadow…
“You've been suspiciously quiet,” Sheila pointed out.
Sophie raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Come on, Little Miss Perfect – you were part of the Luxembourg team. You can’t tell me you didn’t suspect anything.”
“I didn’t suspect anything.”
“See, you’re really bad at that,” the dismissive was quick, complete with an accusatory wag of a finger, “lying.”
“Most people consider it a good thing,” Sophie countered calmly with a faint smile on her lips.
“Well, what do you think will happen now?”
“I don’t know,” her words were truthful as the younger doctor turned to stare out into the distance. “The child has to be found and returned to her family. I can’t imagine the distress they must be feeling.”
“Humph…” There was a moment of silence as Sheila contemplated the cigarette between her fingers, “I still can’t believe she did this – the b*tch.”
“What?”
“Sure, steal the world’s monuments, fine! But steal from us?” Sheila waved her hands with indignation, flicking loose ash around as she emphasised her words. “If it hadn’t been for ACME, that woman would already be rotting in some godforsaken gutter somewhere.”
“Her actions certainly are selfish but she must have her reasons---”
"Her reasons?" came the scorn-filled exclamation. “I can’t believe you’re defending her!”
Sophie was silent for awhile before she quietly explained: “You’re taking the role of the prosecution, there’s only one other possible outlook.”
“Oh, come off it, I’m taking the role of a witness! I was here when the Tower disappeared, you know. Do you have any idea how that felt – to see an entire building vanish? Bloody hell, what if she’d decided to take the Medical Centre, too? We had patients in here! It’s going to take years to rebuild our reputation.”
“Ah, our reputation...” the redhead mused.
“You can’t tell me you don’t care about that.”
“We all care about how we are perceived. But, in the end, we cannot control what people want to think or how they want to act towards us - and we cannot let them control us. All we can is to continue doing the right things and our reputations will follow…”
Sheila regarded the woman beside her with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. Then, she laughed. It was impossible to continue the argument. "Stop that," she muttered.
Sophie tilted her head, momentarily confused.
"Being so goddamn sensible," Sheila said, her hands moving expressively. "It's irritating."
“We can’t both be angry,” Sophie smiled.
There was an unconvinced chuckle from the older woman but she raised her hands in mock surrender, "Yeah, yeah..."
“Are you finished?” Sophie asked, looking pointedly at her colleague’s disappearing cigarette. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah…” The remnants of the smoke were extinguished. “You really should stop drinking that crap,” Sheila said, with a disapproving nod towards the bottle in Sophie’s grasp.
“You really should stop smoking that crap,” came the unruffled reply.
“Yeah, with all this sh*t that’s been happening, I should find something stronger, don’t you think?”
Sophie smiled and shook her head, “You’re incorrigible.”
“Well,” the older woman drawled, “We can’t both be perfect.”
* * * * *
Now - ACME Academy
Droplets of condensation shook themselves free from the bottom of the PET bottle as Sophie cracked open the seal around its dark red-coloured cap and held it out towards Chase Devineaux. “Here you go…” she offered with a hint of sympathy, “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”
The Field Director, still walking, took the offer with some hesitation. He never liked Dr Pepper. More than that, he wondered how he should carry it, where he might set it down, and if it would prove to be a problem when he carried a conversation. Little things that didn’t use to need thinking were making themselves difficult.
“Thanks,” he said, and realized it was the right thing to say, which made the rest of the reply easier, “I should probably grab a sandwich... soon.”
“Ah,” Sophie murmured as she acknowledged his reply with a nod. Soon. She thought about his words and considered the way he looked, the expression on his face, the posture he held and the way he grasped the plastic bottle.
She had come over to the ACME Academy, via the basement parking lot, to check if the young cadets, who had returned from Luxembourg City, had been sent home safely – and, admittedly, to check if her car was still in existence – when she caught sight of the Field Director. The hint of weariness she had first discerned from the man in the Boeing had become something a little less ignorable.
“It’s a soft drink, Mr. Devineaux,” she decided to explain, after awhile, “people usually drink such stuff. The sugar and caffeine might help until you get your sandwich.”
“Sounds nice and artificial,” he took a drink. “I don’t suppose you saw the entire press conference?”
“I saw it,” she nodded. “Has anything useful turned up?”
Nothing so far had been solid, and as the hour passed, Chase was beginning to doubt if the truth had been the right thing to announce in front of the mass media.
“Nothing yet,” he concluded, “but I still need to meet up with Dr. Weller, talk about our next steps.” The soft drink wasn’t so bad, welcoming, at this rate, “How’s the Medical Center?”
“We’re doing all right,” her words were smooth, delivered with a slight smile and without hesitation. It was not untrue but Sophie felt elaboration unnecessary – the Director, surely, had enough on his mind. “And, you?” she continued, “How are you holding up?”
I need a stronger drink, he thought.
“It’s probably better for everybody if we established some ground rules as soon as possible,” Chase thought out loud. Sophie quirked an eyebrow. Taking another gulp from the bottle of Dr Pepper, he realized he’d ignored the question, “I’m decent,” he forced a chuckle after swallowing, “tired, but that’s expected. You?”
There, not expecting her enquiry returned, Sophie had a moment’s hesitation. “I’m all right,” she recovered with a nod. The smile that warmed her features was small, filled with compassion but fleeting as it gave way to steady gravity again.
“I’ll be on the compound until the debrief,” she said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I wouldn’t know where to start, Chase thought. Bring me the Tower, Hailey Weller, take me back to Monday morning -- my office.
“This’ll do,” he held up the soft drink, returning the brisk smile she gave him. “Thanks, again.”
Sophie nodded, comprehending that their conversation had ended. “Prenez soin, Directeur. Tout ira bien,” she said in a gentler tone as she slowed her steps to let Chase pass. “Bonne nuit.”
"Sophie," he stopped and turned to her, pronouncing the ‘Sophie’ in French. "You did a good job, everything from China to Luxembourg... Donne-nous de tes nouvelles, we're short on Field Medics." Finishing, he saluted lightly, "À bientôt."
