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"We shall see Doctor. It has been, enlightening to say the least. I hope you find your employment here... pleasant" Moreau said with that creepy tone that he normally used when he had something in mind.

Moreau stood up, put his arm around Aubrey and walked out the door. No, Moreau realized, he didn't like therapy sessions very much. He also didn't intend to attend another one. Moreau smiled at Aubrey and put his hand on her back. Leading her away to the mansion and to a night that showed her just how much he'd forgiven her.

On the other hand... Dr. Haston was not going to have so pleasent of a night.

****

To Dr. Haston

You go to sleep that night in the comfortable room that you are given in the dormatories facilities, it is not one of the largest that take up an entire story such as Sabin and Ginerva have, but it is a decently sized room, larger than the duplexes, with it's own mini-kitchen, it shares a floor with similar rooms built for senior staff.

Of course, this isn't where you wake up. When you wake up you find yourself in a room that is completely unfamilar. All of your stuff is there, and put away in drawers and such. You have a small needle puncture on your arm. When you open the door, you find yourself staring out at duplexes, and a lake, and a lavish jungle. Of course, perhaps this is a dream...

It was several days after Aubrey's last visit when she finally had the nerve to show up back in the tank room. It was after-hours, so she was sans her coat and carried a covered platter with her. This time she didn't try to find Billy first as not to scare him, she just lightly tapped her nails against the glass pane somewhere in the middle to alert him of her presence.

He wasn't that hard to find in the still empty tank. The water looked as though it could stand a cleaning, filled with the floating dead fishbits of the previous few day's worth of what constituted as his dinner. At the tapping, the octopus twisted from where he had become fascinated with the opposite side of the tank. His eyes widened at the sight of her, though, and he practically flew to the glass in front of her, clinging to the glass there as though he could press himself through and out the other side.

Aubrey smiled at him and headed towards the latter, carefully starting to make her way up. She grabbed a net on the way up, in order to help with the bits floating at the top.

"There's me gel!" He cried as he surfaced, his voice hoarse and gurgling from the water still in his throat. "She came back t'me! So happy t'see y', y'go' no idea!"

Aubrey opened the top of the tank as much as she could without using a special unloack code and began to fish out some things off the top and tossing them towards a waste bin of the ground near the food prep area. "Hello Billy," she said as she worked. "I bought you a little something."

Using his suckers to help him cling to the top of his cage, he wormed his tentacles through the opening to reach towards her as best he could, "Sech' a good gel', so good t'me... s'been torture here, lass, torture! Jes' me an' th'water! Nothin'! Nothin', lass, nothin', I'm goin' mad here!"

A frown tugged at Aubrey's mouth but she tried to keep her expression as nuetral as possible. "I'm sorry, Billy. I don't know any details about how long you're going to be here.." she set the net down as she was done and reached over to the platter.

His eyes slid back and forth from the platter to her legs and back again. his chest heaving as he fidgeted like an excited pet at feeding time.

Aubrey pulled the top off to reveal a nice arrangement of sushi - by the looks of it more carefully made and higher quality that what's usually available down in the village. "Wasn't sure how much your tastes have changed, but I fugured this was a pretty safe bet?"

Billy's eyes brightened as he shifted in the water, looking so touched he was teary-eyed, "Yer too good t'me, lass..."

Aubrey scroffed slightly to herself at the irony in that statement, but instead of commenting, she picked up a peice of hamatchi and held it over the water with it resting on the flat of her palm.

He coiled a tentacle around her wrist to hoist himself up enough to snatch it from her hand, chewing hungrilly. Not many other marine biologists could claim to have a trick-performing octopus.

Aubrey chuckled to herself as a similar thought came to her mind. "Issit okay?"

"Coul' do wit'ou th'rice," He grinned up at her, thrilled for the conversation. No one had so much as even said hello to him in days, afterall. He shifted, wrapping another tentacle around her arm as though the feel of her was lifeline enough. He gave a little noise in the back of his throat, resting his chin on her still open hand. "Did y'miss me? I sure missed you."*

Aubrey shook her head as if amused and plucked the fish off the top of the rice bed and held it up to him with her other hand, letting her fingers of the hand he was resting his head on lightly massage his chin. "You're always... an adventure," she finally answered.

His breathing quickened as her fingers scratched his soggy beard, his watery inhuman eyes swiveled up to watch the delicious fish. "We'll get out o' here one day. You an' me, an' then I'll show y'a real adventure."

Aubrey just gave a slightly, placating nod. "I think your adventures would be a bit overwhelming."

He grinned at her from her palm, turning his head to nuzzle against her fingers, "I t'ink ye'd like 'em."

Aubrey shrugged and sighed a small giggle. "Maybe. I'm kind of a more traditional kind of girl," she said in a slightly self-mocking tone.

"House wit' th'picket fence, like? I coul' do tha' too. Be a sheep farmer. I though' aboo' it. Give up th'bad shite, an' jes' settle down an' be a good man. Wha'd'y'say? Y'can name th'dog," He beamed up at her.

"Billy the Sheep Farmer?" Aubrey shook her head. " I can't see it."

"I coul' go by William," He insisted with a laugh, "Sounds more sheepfarmerish, eh? Go t'the fare e'ery season an' drink cider an' eat lamb untill we vomit. Used t'be me favorite b'fer th'fish gut. Used t'hate seafood."

Aubrey had to admit... that did sound really nice to her on some levels. Somewhere out in the country...the simple life. But she new, deep down, that is was just the syndrome of "the grass is greener." Aubrey had always lived in the city or in the humdrum suburbs... rushing through her life trying to get one degree after the next. She told her self that she would go crazy with boredom.

And not so deep down she couldn't really believe Billy could get all straight-laced, even if he could escape and even if he was human again.

"Lamb is good," she said distantly.

"Wit' hot yorkshire puddings an' boiled red cabbage..." There was a waver to his voice, his eyes no longer looking at her as he stared up from her hand.

Aubrey didn't have the heart to rip him from his fantasy. She waiting patiently, continuing to lightly stroke his chin.

His brows furrowed, the spiny fin along the line of his skull and down his back flairing as he drew in another shuddering breath. "I don' wanna' do this no more... Aubrey, lovely, y'gotta' get me out o' here I can't eat fish anymore... I'm sick o' god damn fish, bu' I tried when I was still able- I *tried* t'eat other t'ings bu' they jes woul' go down... tore up me insides feirce- I don' wanna be an octopus! I want me hands, lass, I want fingers! I... I wanna' touch you... I wanna..." His voice trembled and broke, "I wanna get out o' th'water!" His round, cepholopodian eyes streaming with tears.

Aubrey finally let a frown break on her face, but she had to choose her words carefully. "There's nothing I can do for you, Billy. I just can't.. I'm sorry."

"Y'can, y'can," He begged miserably, twisting to press his face against her palm, "He'll do wha' e'er y'want if y'do it right... yer out there while I'm in here- we coul' still get away- we coul' still try!" In his head, there was no question of her allience. In his head.

Aubrey shook her head. "There's no escape." She leveled her eyes with his. "Not for anyone," she said pointedly.

"Where's tha' fiery bich tha' waved me importance a' me in a jar? Where's tha' woman o' morals?" He kissed the palm with the corner of his mouth where his lips still could touch eachother without the hinderence of his growing beak, his tentacles coiling tighter, "Y'jes' gotta get me outo' this tank!"

Aubrey looked away. That woman was dying, defeated. She was learning how to be numb, how to turn of that morale side of her heart and focus on the work. And lately, learned to dabble in manipulation herself, human life be damned.

"Moreau won't keep you here forever," she said. It was a half truth, at least. Moreau wasn't that lazy. There was probably more punishment - there always was - awaiting Billy. It was just a waiting game.

His head turned enough to hook his beakish teeth around her thumb, his tongue sliding along the digit in a lewd, loving gesture. A tentacle slid up her arm from the hole, aiming for her torso.

"I have to go," she said very quickly, suddenly standing up and trying to pry her hand away.

His limbs tightened their grip on her as he pulled back to press his forehead against her fingertips. His voice broke as he spoke, "Don' go yet- please!"

"You have to stop this," she said, a sad but serious tone her voice. "Or else I won't be able to come at all."

He squeezed again, as though he were hugging her this time, his white hair sticking to his oily greyed skin. "Ye'll come back?"

Aubrey sighed and slumped back down into a sitting position. "It depends," she said softly.

"Depends on wha'?" He murmured, peaking up at her, his fin twitching anxiously.

"On when Moreau says I can't anymore."

"Come anyway!"

"No." Her eyes narrowed at him seriously. "I can't afford that anymore. You've seen what happens."

"So he's got y'trapped too, then?" He laughed at that, quiet and gurgling in his throat.

Aubrey swallowed, waiting until she knew she could speak without her voice wavering. "He's my fiance, Billy. And I love him." She jerked her hand out of his tentacle grasp. "That's what it is. That's all it is."

He slipped back into the water with a slash, sputtering as he resurfaced befor coughing, "So y'keep sayin'. I know th'truth."

"You don't know me," she spat bitterly, heading back down the ladder, but not before hitting the tray sitting on the edge so all the susshi and rice fell into the water. "You don't know what I feel!"

"I do a might better'n he does, tha's fer sure!" He shouted after her his voice somewhat muted as he stuck to the side of the tank again.

Aubrey just steamed at him for a moment, before taking a large breath and heading towards the door.

New Rp

Two weeks had passed since her meeting with Dr. Lockheart- then a few days more. On the sixteenth day, Bia awoke to a room drown in perfect, flawless darkness. She was still living in the labs.

In those days after her terse request, Bia was... nervous- and then anxious- and then afraid- each emotion blending into the next until she barely knew how her mind was settling into the realization that perhaps her request had been ultimately denied. Shockingly enough to the dark-skinned doctor- there was an inexplicable sense of relief that came with that possibility, and, for the first time since she'd allowed her mind to settle on the bizarre solution to her self-destructive behavior... Bia wondered if she'd made the right choice. Was joining the ranks of human lab rats really the way to give her life purpose again? It was in those few days that Bia calmed, a quiet relief sweeping over her as she realized the bullet she'd dodged.

Two days later she woke in a panicked state, sitting straight up in the darkness and tossing the blankets aside- scrambling- and falling- from the bed as if it were made of fire. It was then, as she lay, the blankets and sheets twisted around her legs where they'd gathered as she'd kicked and turned in the night- the darkness around her as unforgiving as always- that the sweat-soaked, terrified woman realized... that she had not 'dodged the bullet'. Rather, it had struck her unaware- and lay hidden somewhere, deep within her- festering... rotting her from the inside out.

It took little more than that knowledge to screw up her courage and to appear that night- a silent figure suddenly haunting the doorway to Dr. Lockheart's office.

Bia bridged the gap between the doorway and the chair she'd sat in the time before in silence- though she did not sit before she had been asked.

"I wanted to know... whether or not my... request was still... feasable." A string of euphemisms bound together to form a sentence of several meanings.

Aubrey Lockheart was not much older than the young Doctor that stood before her, her hands almost painfully straight at her sides- not even the fingers on her hands curling, as they rest fitfully against her black slacks. However, at that moment, Bia would have supposed the woman so much older than herself- if not in age, then by the force of experience. She imagined that her supervisor could not bear to look in her eyes- because, if she did, some aged message of sorrow or realization would shine out of them. It frightened Bia to imagine what would become of her- and, in that moment, it was as if Aubrey knew everything that would befall the girl from that second on. Her life had branched- one path led away- down a road that would have occured, were this decision to fall through- if she were to put her hand up in apology and tell Aubrey that, on second thought, she had decided to stay where she was. The other road- it was held within Aubrey's eyes- within the knowledge of the woman who, though quite close to her age, Bia could never consider a 'peer'. She was the carrier- the catharsis.

Bia took a deep,solid breath as the pen clattered to the floor. Then, she closed her own eyes and spoke as the light only barely piercing her eyelids to illuminate the darkness.

"I'm serious." She opened her eyes. "I'm also ready."

She shook her head. "No... not until after... after the first time." When it's too late to turn back. The subtext was clear.

Bia had been in Lab Room 4 many times before- she could recite the contents behind most of the more menial cupboards- where the syringes, the tongue depressors- even the emergency trach kit sat, waiting in its sterile environment for the day it may be needed. She had never been privy to the contents of those shelves and cupboards along the far wall which contained the very lifeblood of Feral Labs: the serums.

In the beginning, she had worked on the early bolsters- in one of those teams that were not geared towards research or discovery, but rather, the painstaking reproduction of the bolster clinical trials that had been designed by the higher-ups. It was the closest the woman had ever come to being a part of the serum process- and it had been almost a year before. She pushed it from her mind- and took several short, pacing steps in the room that- though familiar- was anything but comfortable.