The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 11- Daria

Chapter 11- Daria

On Monday, John arrived, and tugged his sleeves down so they were covering his palms, holding them tightly in place with his fingers. Somehow, he still thought that someone would know he'd covered his tattoo: true, Yvette in forensics had x-ray vision, but she also didn't care about his personal life. Still, he was almost certain that Alice would sense something was up, and he planned to stay away from Lorna all that week and the next, so adroit was she at knowing things she shouldn't.

As he went to sit at his desk, he saw Daria waiting there. He froze. And yet again, he felt a complete dichotomy of emotion- simultaneously overjoyed and mad as hell. Half of him wanted to run up and lift Daria off the ground and swing her around, while the other wanted to punch her in the face. He considered hiding in the kitchen until he could reach a consensus, but he also needed to get some work done.

And then Daria looked up and spotted him. He walked over, not remembering how he normally walked and trying desperately to look as though nothing was wrong. He swung his arms and took long steps, but she didn't seem to notice.

She beamed at him, "Hello."

"Hi." Monosyllabic words felt best until he figured out how he felt.

She was clearly expecting some kind of embrace, but he couldn't bring himself to oblige. She cocked her head to one side, "Something's different about you."

"I'm two weeks older." He was trying to sound jovial, he really was.

"Yeah, sorry, I've been gone, I-"

"No need to explain. It was good for me. I slept in my own flat."

"Good for you." She sounded sad.

"Yeah, well, I need to do some work, so if you don't mind-" She didn't move. He really wanted her to go. "How about we talk at lunch?"

"Ok." She nodded and started to go, but he could still tell that she was reluctant; he was suddenly very tempted to skip lunch.

"Is something wrong, John?"

For some reason, he was floored that she had the gall to ask this. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to say 'none of your fucking business' and storm off. "No," he chimed.

She nodded, muttered "see you at lunch" and then walked off.

John turned around to see that, of course, Alex had been watching the whole thing.

"Something is wrong." She said, so matter of fact it was like she was reciting a times table.

"Nope." He sat down heavily on his chair. He wanted this conversation to be over- he wanted all conversations to be over for the rest of his life.

"It wasn't her fault, you know," Alex was staring at him, fixedly. John was tempted to open a portal between them, just so he wouldn't feel her gaze. She steepled her fingers, "She couldn't have done anything-"

"Let's not talk about this." John tried to look as though he was busy at his computer, but he'd forgotten to turn it on. He pressed the button on the bottom and waited for more commentary from Alex, but none came. After a few seconds, he looked over to see her absorbed in her own work. A day when Alex would let something go? He began to feel better.

"Where's your tattoo?"

John had taken off his jumper at eleven- Lorna had said he looked like he'd wandered in off the street- and now his trick with the makeup was clear for all to see. He looked down at his arm in wonder, "How did that happen?"

Unsurprisingly, Alex wasn't buying it, "I really wish I had your dexterity with an applicator, John; I always end up looking like my face has been excavated."