(Sept. 15, 2003/2216)

Small Laboratory <SL>

The interior of this laboratory is somewhat claustrophobic, not only in square feet, but the windows are also shuttered much of the time. Whatever goes on in this place, the owner does not want it to be anyone's business. The front portion of the building is a small waiting room, complete with a receptionist's booth. Perhaps at one time, this place was a clinic of some sort. Threadbare but clean burnt-orange carpeting and beige walls flesh out the bland decor of this front room.

The back portion of the office, however, is entirely different. It is part laboratory, part classroom, and part dorm room. There's a computer station that's always on, an old-fashioned chalkboard on one wall (with equations written all over it), several lab tables with machines and various chemical experiments in progress, an old wooden study desk with what appears to be Russian textbooks spread across it, and a few bookshelves of scientific reference manuals in both Russian and English. In the corner of the room, a twin bed is set up and neatly made. There's a few posters on the walls, closet and bathroom doors...mostly of young Russian hockey and soccer stars, though there's a few beefcake pictures taped up of some egotistical-looking Mexican fellow as well.

Long distance to Kalinka: Bowie lets himself into your lab in Moscow. >:)

Kalinka (Kali) pages: You just gonna be waiting back there? 8) I can go back there.

You paged Kalinka with 'Yep. :)'

Long distance to Kalinka: Bowie is patient. He'll wait.

Kalinka (Kali) pages: Bowie will notice that the place is packed up. Most everything is packed into plastic bins, save for her sleeping cot. Looks like she's at least considering selling the place.

You paged Kalinka with 'There's still chairs and such, yes?'

Kalinka (Kali) pages: Yup.

Kalinka (Kali) pages: The equipment and such is in the process of being packed, though.

Bowie is seated in the back room of the office, where Kalinka once conducted experiments and repairs. The door is open just a crack, which may or may not be as how she left it. He wasn't paying much attention to that detail when he came in. Otherwise he's touched nothing, leaving things as he found them.

Kalinka has her watch rigged up to monitor the door activity, and she knew something was amiss when it started beeping while she was out. She feared the worst...a break-in. Carefully, she opens the door, looking around the front office cautiously. She checks the front door for signs of a break-in.

No signs of a break-in. Bowie still had his key, and so he let himself in. The boxes stacked around the room are still where she left them.

In the back room, Bowie stiffens a bit when he hears the front door open. He doesn't get up. She'll come back here eventually.

Kalinka bites her lip, as she sees the door is just fine. Looks like she'll have to check the back room, now...something she doesn't relish. Though in the back of her mind is bewilderment, mixed with the dread. She's only ever given her key to two people...and one of them would never come back here again...or would he?

She tries for the obvious one, first...

"Chilly, are you back there?"

Close, but no cigar. No oversized bundle of fluff comes galloping out of the back room to pounce her.

Kalinka decides to assume the absolute worst; someone must have hurt Chill and taken his key. Probably Gemini, who came to the prison to taunt her and threaten her with things nice girls shouldn't be thinking about. Steeling herself, she creeps toward the door to the back room, and noticing it's open, peeps in to see if she can spy anything amiss.

The only thing amiss is the slightly worn stetson hat peeking up between the stacks, and the pair of equally worn cowboy boots stretched out in the narrow aisle.

"Howdy, Kalinka." Bowie's voice is soft, and painfully neutral.

Kalinka gasps, her hand covering her mouth in surprise, eyes growing wide. She looks somewhat different, perhaps trying to adopt a new identity for whatever new life she has to make for herself now, on her own. "You...! You are the last person I ever expected to see here," she admits.

Bowie looks the same as he ever does. One of the benefits of being a reploid is that he doesn't get bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep, or lose color in his face. Still, he doesn't hold himself the same way - his shoulders are slouched, more lounging than sitting in the molded plastic chair. "Didn't know whare else to find ya."

The only other difference is the faint smell of beer about him...like he'd been drinking at some point....

The smell of beer keeps Kalinka at bay, like some kind of commercial repellant...living with an alcoholic all her life has made Kalinka sensitive to such things. She doesn't move any closer, though she still looks surprised. "I called...a million times, but...you were shut down, you could not get my messages," she says quietly.

Bowie is stone cold sober, despite any appearances to the contrary. One of the other dubious benefits of being a reploid. "Ah know. Ah didn't know whut else t'do." He doesn't look at her directly, not quite able to meet her eyes.

Kalinka is already certain she's forever lost anything good in her life, including the love of the most important people in her life. She works on that assumption due to the overwhelming waves of hatred, anger, sorrow, mistrust and outright repulsion she's gotten from people in her 'past life'. The past life seems to her to be like a horribly squalid house; she's afraid to open the door and see what a dreadful mess lays inside, it's too shameful. "If you have come to be angry, I understand. You may be as angry as you want. You have perfect right," she says.

Bowie doesn't get angry, at least not in the same way that Cossacks get angry. His anger is slow to build, slow to release. He doesn't yell, or scream, or destroy things. Occasionally he puts dents in walls. His voice tenses, but remains at the same quiet level as before.

"Do ya have any - /any/ - idea jus how much Ah love ya?"

Kalinka sniffles, eyes watering up. "I am learning just how much," she admits, trying to hold back sobs. "I thought that I did, but it was more than I thought."

Bowie wants to get up, to gather her into his arms and comfort her. And yet, he cannot bring himself to do so. He feels as if they're walking across shifting sands, every step uncertain, unsure where each other stands. "Ah love ya so much it hurts, Kali. So much...so much that Ah thought about buyin ya a ring. Ah wus so happy, jus bein with ya...

"Ah trusted ya. With mah life, with mah secrets, with errythang. Ah thought Ah knew ya better than anyone else. But now...meybe Ah really didn't know ya."

Kalinka hugs herself tightly, as if it could possibly bring some small comfort as she begins to cry. "I am terrible person, Bowie," she sobs. "I have to pay for this mistake with the rest of my life...and then I am going to hell...there is no redemption for what I have done. I will never stand here and tell you what I did was the right thing to do...I did it out of anger, and I did it to protect my father. Whatever was I thinking..." She closes her eyes, tears running down her cheeks. "But for what it is worth, I am sorry, I will be sorry for the rest of my life, my life be damned."

Bowie sighs with equal quiet, closing his eyes. She's sorry. That's something, at least. "Never raise yer gun in anger," he says, half to himself, half to her. "Because that's the moment yer no longer in control." It was something that he'd hoped he'd taught her. Whether he failed as a teacher or she failed as student is left for the spirits to decide. "We've both done terrible thangs, Kalinka. If yer goin to Hell, then Ah guess Ah'll meet ya thare."

Kalinka says, "N...no, you...you are not going...Bowie, I believe you are good. I just...I know that...I could have stopped it...until the point when it was too late to turn back, and then it was too late and I knew it was the end of everything."

Bowie gives a small, bare shrug. On paper, he was cleared of all wrongdoing in the incident. On paper, he was not responsible. Paper has not eased his burden. "It's over, nothang we can do to change it now." He opens his eyes again, turning his head to regard her. "Question is, whare do we go frum here?"

Kalinka is still crying, though she's much quieter about it now. "...I do not want to lose you," she murmurs. "I have lost everything else, and I do not want to lose you."

Bowie hasn't shed a tear. Perhaps it's another of his design quirks, much like his inability to blush. Or maybe he's simply past tears. "Ah still love ya, Kali. Meybe Ah'm crazy, but that's how Ah feel. But with love comes trust...an ya broke that."

Kalinka nods. "I know that, I know...you have no reason to stay..." she says sadly. Seems time in solitary confinement has given her a lot of time to ponder everything she's done wrong, and their consequences.

"Ah've noticed love an reason don't have much in common," Bowie says quietly.

"They do not, they are not connected always," Kalinka admits sheepishly, wiping her eyes with the edge of her shirt.

Bowie says "Ah'm willin to give us a second chance." He has to. He can no longer imagine life without her. He straightens up, the metal and plastic chair squeaking slightly. "Ah want to trust ya again. But yer goin t'have t'show me that Ah can put mah trust in ya."

Kalinka nods. "Anything, Bowie," she says, her watery blue eyes turning toward him, all at once vulnerable and helpless.

"Ya can start by cuttin out those cigarettes," Bowie says. "It'll only aggrivate yer asthma."

Kalinka bobs her head. "I picked up the habit in jail," she admits. "I am smoking fewer than I was, but will stop them for good."

Bowie nods, not seeming terribly surprised by that confession. He's seen his share of prisons, albeit on the other side of the bars. All the same, the talk of jail causes his frown to deepen.

"I know, it is disgusting," Kalinka admits, lowering her head in shame. "But when I started it, I really did not want to live anymore. I am doing better since then...maybe things can get better, maybe there is going to be a chance to...make amends somehow with Abernathy, and with all the people I hurt."

Bowie slowly rises from his seat, a certain stiffness in his movements. At least she can still make amends with the living, he thinks privately. "Ah know....Ah knew. Ya said good-bye to me, Kali...an somehow Ah jus knew. Ah...stopped thankin after that."

Kalinka suddenly looks over at Bowie nervously, as he gets up. "Are you going?" she asks, sounding a little bit like a scared little girl. "Please...please stay a little longer."

Bowie walks over to her, the smell of beer faint but still noticable. If he's been drinking, he stopped a long time before he made it here. "Ah know ya want t'make amends. Ah also know ya need t'make amends." He moves to rest his hands gently on her slim shoulders. "Whutever the judge says...Ah want ya t'serve out yer sentence. Not fer mah sake, but fer yer own."

Kalinka nods in agreement with his words. "I will, if I go to prison or a plea agreement is made, whatever the case I will do it and not ask for special treatment..." As Bowie touches her shoulders, she loses her composure once more, beginning to cry again as she faces him.

This time, love overrules reason. While he can't quite bring himself to draw her into his arms, Bowie lets her snuggle against him if she so chooses. He has some idea of what lies on the road ahead, and that knowledge makes him cringe inside.

Kalinka doesn't really care, at this point, that he smells like beer. With a sob, she presses herself against him, leaning against his shoulder, her tears dampening his shirt. "I love you so much," she sobs. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Ah love ya too, sunshine," Bowie says in a near-whisper. Finally, he wraps his arms around her. He doesn't cry. Maybe he can't. But he'll let her shed as many tears as she needs.

Protoman was right - she isn't the same person that she was. But then, neither is he. He let love blind him before. He still loves, but this time his eyes are more open.