The Chemist

by Stephenie Meyer

  "Honestly, though it all went down with a little too much terror and tragedy, I was ready to quit anyway. It was never what I wanted to do with my life; it's just what I was really good at." She shrugged. "The job took a toll."

  "I can't even begin to imagine. But I meant... romantically."

  She stared at him, uncomprehending. "Romantically?"

  "Well, as you said, it ended in tragedy."

  "My life, sure. But... ?"

  "I just figured, from the way you talk about him, it must have been devastating to lose... Dr. Barnaby the way you did. You never said what his first name was?"

  "It was Joseph. But I always called him Barnaby."

  She took a sip of her juice.

  "And were you in love with him... from the very beginning?"

  Her shocked gasp pulled a mouthful of juice into her lungs, and she spluttered and choked. Daniel jumped up and pounded her on the back while she tried to regain control of her breathing. After a minute, she waved him off.

  "I'm okay," she coughed out. "Sit."

  He stayed by her, one hand half extended. "Are you sure?"

  "Just. Caught by surprise. With Barnaby?"

  "I thought you said yesterday..."

  She took a deep breath, then coughed one more time. "That I loved him." She shuddered. "Sorry, I'm just having some seriously squicky incest reflexes right now. Barnaby was like my father. He was a good father--the only one I ever knew. It was really hard knowing how he died, and I miss him like hell. So, yes, definitely devastating. But not like that."

  Daniel returned slowly to his seat. He thought for a moment, and then he asked, "Who else did you have to cut ties with when you disappeared?"

  She could imagine the long array of faces parading through his mind right now. "That part wasn't so hard for me. It sounds pretty pathetic, but Barnaby was my only real friend. My work was my entire life, and I wasn't allowed to talk about my work to anyone besides Barnaby. I lived a very isolated existence. There were others around... for example, the underlings who prepped subjects. They knew what was happening in a general sense but had none of the classified details about the information we were trying to retrieve. And, well, they were terrified of me. They knew what my job was. So we didn't chat much. There were a few lab assistants who performed a variety of duties outside the action rooms, but they didn't know what we were doing and I had to be careful not to say anything to tip them off. Occasionally, people from the different agencies visited individually to monitor a particular interrogation, but I had very little contact with them except to receive instructions about the angles I should cover. Mostly they watched from behind one-way glass, and Carston gave me the information. I used to think Carston was sort of my friend, but he did just try to kill me... So I can't compare it to what you're losing. Obviously, I didn't have that much of a life to lose. Even before I was recruited... I guess I just don't bond with other humans like a normal person. Like I said, pathetic."

  He smiled at her. "I haven't noticed any deficiencies."

  "Um, thanks. Well, it's getting late. Let me help clear this all up."

  "Sure." He stood and stretched, then started stacking plates. She had to move quickly to grab a few things before he had efficiently made off with all of it. "But the night is still young," he continued, "and I'm going to have to bring up the other half of our deal now."

  "Huh?"

  He laughed. His hands were full so she pulled the dishwasher open. She filled in the bottom rack while he did the top and put the bigger pieces in the sink. The chore moved quickly with both of them working in easy tandem.

  "You don't remember? It's only been a few days, really. I'll admit, it does seem a lot longer. It could be weeks."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  He closed the dishwasher and then leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. She waited.

  "Think back. Before things got... strange. You promised that if I still liked you after we had dinner together..."

  He looked at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

  Oh. He was talking about their conversation on the train. She was shocked he could refer to it so lightly. That was the last moment his life had been normal. The last moment before everything had been stolen from him. And though she hadn't been the architect of that theft, she'd been the hand they used.

  "Um. Something about a foreign film theater at the university near you, right?"

  "Yes--well, but I didn't mean for you to be quite so specific. The university theater is not exactly convenient right now. However..." He opened the cupboard behind him, reached up, and pulled something off the highest shelf. He turned back to her with a huge grin and presented a DVD case. The faded cover had a picture of a beautiful woman in a red dress and a dark, wide-brimmed hat.

  "Ta-da!" he said.

  "Where on earth did you get that?"

  His smile got a little smaller. "Second store I went to. Thrift store. I got very lucky. This is actually a great movie." He assessed her face. "I can read your thoughts. You're thinking, Is there any place this idiot didn't go? We'll be dead by sunrise."

  "Not in so many words. And we'd be disappearing into the night in Arnie's stolen truck right now if I thought it was that bad."

  "Still, while I'm very, very sorry for my rash behavior, I'm also quite happy I was able to find this gem. You'll love it."

  She shook her head--not disagreeing, just wondering how things had gotten so odd in her life. One wrong move and suddenly she was committed to reading subtitles with the most kind and... uncorrupted person she'd ever met.

  He stepped toward her. "You can't say no. You made a bargain and I intend to hold you to it."

  "I'll do it, I'll do it. You just have to explain why exactly it is that you still like me," she said, finishing more glumly than she'd begun.

  "I think I can do that."

  He took another step forward, backing her against the island. He put his hands on the edge of the counter behind her, one on either side, and as he leaned forward, she could smell the clean, citrusy scent of his hair. He was so close, she could see that he must have shaved recently--his jaw was smooth and there was the hint of razor burn just under his chin.

  Daniel's proximity confused her, but it didn't frighten her the way it would have with just about any other person on the planet. He wasn't dangerous to her, she knew that. She didn't understand what he was doing, though, even when he slowly lowered his face toward hers, his eyes starting to close. It never occurred to her that he was about to kiss her until his half-open lips were just a breath away from hers.

  That realization startled her. It startled her a lot. And when she was startled, she had ingrained reactions that manifested without her conscious approval.

  She ducked under his arm, spinning free. She dashed several feet away, then spun back to face the source of the alarm, sliding into a half crouch. Her hands were automatically at her waist, looking for the belt she wasn't wearing.

  As she took in Daniel's horrified expression, Alex realized that her reaction would have fit better if he'd pulled a knife and held it to her throat. She straightened up and dropped her hands, her face burning.

  "Uh, sorry. Sorry! You, um, caught me off guard."

  Daniel's horror shifted into disbelief. "Wow. I didn't think I was moving that fast, but maybe I should reevaluate."

  "I just... I'm sorry, what was that?"

  A shade of impatience crossed his expression. "Well, I was about to kiss you."

  "That's what it looked like, but... why? I mean, kiss me? I don't... I don't understand."

  He shook his head and turned to lean back against the island. "Huh. I really thought we were on the same page, but now I kind of feel like I'm speaking English as a second language. What did you think was going on here? With the dinner date? And the sad little candle?" He gestured to the table.

  He walked toward her then, and she forced herself not to back away. Confusion aside,
she knew her wild overreaction had been rude. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. Even if he was a crazy person.

  "Surely..." He sighed. "Surely you've been aware of how often I just... touch you." He was close enough at that point to reach out one hand and brush his knuckles along her arm in demonstration. "On the planet I come from, that kind of thing signifies romantic interest." He leaned toward her again, his eyes narrowed. "Please tell me, what does it mean on yours?"

  She took a deep breath. "Daniel, what you're processing now is a kind of sensory deprivation reaction," she explained. "It's something I've seen before, in the lab..."

  His eyes widened; he backed out of her space. His expression was totally flummoxed.

  "This is a valid response to what you've experienced, and it's actually a very mild response, under the circumstances," she continued. "You're doing remarkably well. Many people would have had a complete nervous breakdown by this point. This emotional reaction might seem similar to something you've experienced before, but I can assure you that what you're feeling right now is not romantic interest."

  He regained his composure as she explained, but he didn't seem enlightened or reassured by her diagnosis. His eyebrows lowered and his lips tucked in at the corners like he was annoyed.

  "And you're sure you know my feelings better than I do because..."

  "As I said, I've seen something like this before in the lab."

  " 'Something like this'?" he quoted back at her. "I imagine you saw many things in your lab, but I'm also sure that I'm still the best qualified to know when I'm experiencing romantic interest." He sounded angry, but he was smiling and he was moving closer while he spoke. "So if your only argument is anecdotal..."

  "That's not my only argument," she began slowly, unwillingly. These weren't the easiest words to say. "I may have been... absorbed by my work, but I wasn't totally oblivious. I know what men see when they look at me, the ones who know what I am... like you do. And I understand that reaction. I don't disagree with it. Your brother's animosity--that is a normal, rational response. I've seen it many times before--fear, loathing, an eagerness to assert physical dominance. I am the bogeyman in a very dark and scary world. I frighten people who aren't afraid of anything else, not even death. I can take everything they pride themselves on away from them; I can make them betray everything they hold sacred. I am the monster they see in their nightmares." It was a version of herself she'd come to accept, but not without some pain.

  She wasn't unaware that outsiders, people who didn't know her, saw her as a woman rather than a demon. When she needed to, she could make use of her ability to appear delicate and feminine, as she had with the walrus-y hotel manager. It was no different from her ability to look like a boy. Both were deceptions. But even those outsiders who saw her as a female didn't look at her with... desire. She wasn't that girl, and that was okay. She'd been born with her own gifts, and you didn't get everything.

  He waited patiently while she spoke, his expression neutral. She didn't think he was reacting to her words strongly enough.

  "Do you understand what I'm saying?" she asked. "I am intrinsically incompatible with being an object of romantic interest."

  "I understand you. I just don't agree."

  "I don't understand how you of all people can disagree."

  "First, but not entirely to the point, I'm not afraid of you."

  She exhaled impatiently. "Why not?"

  "Because, now that you know who I am, I am in no danger from you, and I never will be unless I change into the kind of person who should be."

  Her lips screwed into a half-pursed frown. He was right... but that wasn't really the issue.

  "Second, still tangential, I think you've been spending all your time with the wrong kind of man. A hazard of your particular work, I'd imagine."

  "Maybe. But what is the main point you're dancing around?"

  He got into her personal space again. "How I feel. How you feel."

  She held her ground. "And how can you be sure what you're feeling? You're in the middle of the most traumatic experience of your life. You've just lost your whole world. All that's left is a brother you don't completely trust, your kidnapper-slash-torturer, and Arnie. So it was probably fifty-fifty on whether you'd attach yourself to me or to Arnie. This is pretty basic Stockholm syndrome stuff, Daniel. I'm the only human female in your life--there aren't any other options. Think about it rationally; think about how inappropriate the timing is. You can't trust feelings born in the midst of severe physical and mental anguish."

  "I might consider that, except for one thing."

  "And what's that?"

  "I wanted you before you were the only human female in my life."

  This threw her, and he took advantage, placing both his hands lightly on her shoulders. The warmth from his palms made her realize that she'd been cold without recognizing it. She shivered.

  "Remember when I told you that I'd never asked a woman out on a train before? That was kind of an understatement. On average, it takes me about three weeks of fairly regular interaction--along with an embarrassing amount of encouragement from the girl--before I work up the nerve to ask someone to go for a casual coffee. But from the second I saw your face, I was willing to leap miles outside my comfort zone to make sure I saw it again."

  She shook her head. "Daniel, I roofied you. You were high on a chemical compound with manifestations similar to Ecstasy."

  "Not then, I wasn't. I remember. I felt the difference before and after you 'shocked' me. That was when things got confusing. And before the drug, I was already in neck-deep. I was trying to figure out how I was going to get off at your stop without looking like a stalker."

  She had no answer. His physical proximity was becoming disorienting. He still held her loosely, bending in slightly so that his face was closer to hers.

  It wasn't until this moment that she began to really consider his words. She'd written off everything he'd said and done since the kidnapping as aftershocks from the trauma. She'd analyzed him like a subject, always separating herself from the equation. Because none of it was about her. And all of it was within normal parameters for what he'd been through.

  She tried to remember the last time a man had looked at her this way, and she came up empty.

  For the past three years, every person she'd met, male or female, had been a potential source of danger. For the six years before that, as she'd just excruciatingly explained, she'd been anathema to every man she'd interacted with. Which took her all the way back to college and medical school and the few brief relationships that had never included much romance. She was a scientist first, even then, and the men she'd formed attachments to had been the same. Their relationships were born from massive amounts of time logged in together and very specific interests that 99.99 percent of the populace couldn't begin to grasp. Each time, they'd settled for each other by default. No wonder it had never amounted to much.

  And none of them had ever worn this expression. Wonder and fascination mixed with something electric as he gazed at her face... her battered, swollen face. For the first time, she felt mortified about her mangled appearance for an entirely vain reason. Her hands had been hanging limply at her sides. Now she raised one and covered as much as she could, hiding like a child.

  "I've put some thought into this," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "I know what I'm saying."

  She just shook her head.

  "Of course, all of that is moot if you don't feel a similar way. I've been a little overconfident tonight." He paused. "Given that we haven't been speaking the same language at all, have we? I've been misreading you."

  He paused again like he was waiting for an answer, but she had no idea what to say.

  "What do you see when you look at me?" he asked.

  She lowered her hand an inch and glanced up at him, at the same perplexingly honest face she'd been trying to understand from the beginning. What kind of a question was that? There were too many answers
.

  "I don't know how to respond to that."

  His eyes narrowed for a moment, considering. She wished he would take a step back so that she could think more clearly. Then he seemed to brace himself, squaring his shoulders for some kind of blow.

  "Might as well get everything out in the open. Answer this instead: What's the very worst thing you see when you look at me?"

  The honest answer popped out before she could think it through. "A liability."

  She saw how harshly the word landed. Now he gave her the space she'd just wished for, and she regretted it. Why was the room so cold?

  He nodded to himself as he backed away.

  "That's fair, that's completely fair. I'm an idiot, clearly. I can't forget I've put you in danger. Also, the fact that--"

  "No!" She took a hesitant step toward him, anxious to be clear. "That's not what I meant."

  "You don't have to be kind. I know I'm useless in all this." He gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the world outside that was trying to kill them both.

  "You're not. Being a normal person is not a bad thing. You'll learn all the rest. I was talking about... leverage." She couldn't help herself--his expression was just so openly devastated. She took another step toward him and grabbed one of his big, warm hands with both of her little icy ones. It made her feel better when the word leverage replaced the pain in his eyes with confusion. She hurried to explain. "You remember what Kevin and I were saying about leverage? About how you're the leverage the Agency needed to get him to expose himself?"

  "Yes, that makes me feel so much better than useless."

  "Let me finish." She took a deep breath. "They've never had anything on me. Barnaby was my only family. I didn't have some sister with a couple of kids and a house in the suburbs that the department could threaten to blow up. There was no one I cared about. Lonely, yes, but I was also free. It was only myself I had to keep alive."

  She watched him think through the words, trying to sort out her meaning. She fumbled for a concrete example.

  "See, if... if they had you," she explained slowly, "if they grabbed you somehow... I would have to come after you." It was so true it frightened her. She didn't understand why it was true, but that didn't change the fact.

  His eyes widened and seemed to freeze that way.

  "And they'd win, you know," she said apologetically. "They'd kill us both. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have to try. See?" She shrugged. "Liability."