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There was still, of course, the issue of actually getting permission to undertake missions. He was braced for that--it had only taken him several days of running arguments over in his head--but before he could even bother he had an issue to clear up first, and that was the issue of H's zealotry over his very interesting research.

Fiona was a stony silence in his head, heavy and present and exhausted, and then a silent sigh as he mutely apologized, again, again, again. He was still sleep-ruffled when he presented himself at H's office, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever and the new tattoo rather increasing the general aura of hoodlum he already exuded so readily.

"I need," he said in lieu of an insincere greeting, "to discuss the possibility of acquiring you more test subjects, particularly given that you're down to just two."

"Yeah. I'm sure," said Taym flatly. "Luckily I'm not planning on dying. I suspect that anyone I'm likely to run across will want me alive just as much as you do, being similarly disinclined to waste resources." He paused, resisting the urge to ball his hands into fists. "I was hoping if they do you'd be amenable to exchange: God willing, I'll bring you the other nine, and I anticipate that it'll take a while. I'm sure having a wider pool of test subjects in the meantime is an attractive idea. I don't give a ******** what you to do or with them while I'm busy with the rest, provided we off them all at the end."

He bristled, disgusted at the idea that he might put someone else on the block, until he realized very suddenly that no one else, as far as he knew, was anywhere near as bent on this particular outcome as he was.

And then selfishness won out, what shreds of nobility he had too exhausted to extend any further. "I'll look," he said primly, "for one that takes after a ********' Lifer."

He closed his eyes slowly and carefully in the manner of someone mustering his last reserves of patience, but didn't say anything else--just turned and left, resisting a powerful urge to slam the door behind him.

The second stop required a little more mental and emotional preparation: a couple of cigarettes, smoked jittery and unhappy outside the dorms. He felt like throwing up--thought he might--but the process of actually figuring out where Edith was so he could chase her down at least provided a temporary distraction from the insidious voice underlying Fiona's distress that said: just take some of it. Just a little bump off the bathroom counter, take the edge off, save the rest for later.

It was this voice as much as actual nerves that had his hand at their almost-worst when he found her, launching into a little half-jog to catch up to her.

"Ma'am," he said, more meekly than he'd intended.

This was not at all the expected outcome, and it threw him enough that his rehearsed speech fled from his mouth and left him fumbling instead.

"I--I've been--working. Around the Island, though, just--normal things, no--no fieldwork. Someone's charge took out that fu--that fence by the training fields again." He hesitated, uneasy. "I'm sorry," he blurted, "for making myself--useless for so long."

A long, nervous pause, while Taym's eyes scanned the ground restlessly and his lip caught in his teeth.

"In a sense," he managed finally, tentatively. "In that I'm here to ask you for work and it's--it's work out there," with a broad sweeping gesture that meant everywhere that isn't here, "and it's... I feel like it's... important." He hesitated, clearly teetering on the brink of more words, before settling on, vaguely humiliated: "I'm here to ask for the assignment again. This time in person. Please."

He met with relief the sudden surge of anger.

"I am not playing hound for the labs. I am taking care of a ******** threat."