Secrets and Lies

Profit During Peacetime

**TW: Mention of military related child death ; Shell Shock; Binge Drinking**

** Please proceed with caution and skip this chapter necessary. Your mental wellbeing will always come first**

          "Because, Monsieur Conrad, the prints we found look incredibly like those of a small, chicken-like creature called a Compsognathus, a cousin of the velociraptor." The words were so clear from Montgomery Moliére's mouth, yet they sounded so wrong at the same time. As if a madman was speaking in place of a respected zoologist.

    James couldn't help but laugh as the French-Canadian professor muttered this line. "You're joking."

    "Pas du tout, Monsieur Conrad. Of many things I will make light, this is not one of them."

    "Dinosaurs died out many years ago."

    "Have they? Or have they simply evolved into more?" A shiver runs down his spine at the zoologist's words. "You, yourself, have seen some strangely unusual things in the last nine years alone, if what the good Docteur has shared is true. Is it so outside of your capabilities to accept that perhaps not all of the dinosaurs passed during the asteroid impact-induced winter?"

    Again, James felt as though the world as he knew it was spinning. While it was not outside of his abilities to fathom, it was the implications of what this meant more than anything. If InGen was looking to fill in the genomes of extinct species, what was to stop them from bringing back if not full-on bioengineering actual dinosaurs?

    "Monsieur Conrad, are you still there? Allo, Monsieur Conrad?"

    "Yeah... Yeah, I'm still here," James sighed. When had he started holding his breath?

    "Veuillez m'excuser, I forget myself sometimes. Not everyone is as open-minded as myself."

    "I take it you too are on board with what InGen is hoping to do?"

    "Yes, yet no." There was a pause between the men before Montgomery continued. "I cannot say that there is not a part of me that is excited by the prospects of their research. Yet there is a part of me that fears the implications."

   Finally, someone reasonable, James thought. "A sentiment I fear far too few individuals share."

   "True, yet there are many of us who are working to make sure safeguards exist as well. It is why I had agreed to partner with InGen. While I would be fascinated to see several extinct creatures with my own eyes, I acknowledge that to do so just because we can, disrupts the natural order. We are only near the top of the food chain because nature allows it; we are simple creatures and could not have obtained such a position alone."

    James smirked softly. He liked Doctor Montgomery Moliére more and more. "In my experience, we're not as near the top of the food chain as we like to think."

    "In my experience, you are not wrong. Most humans, though, are unable to accept this despite the data. They prefer to live in ignorance. Myself, I cannot."

    "And what of Doctor Shannon?"

    A small sigh left the zoologist's lips on the other end of the phone. "Docteur Shannon is a... complicated woman. Many secrets are held closely within her. She is an enigma; a dangerous beauty with a heart of gold who would gift you the shirt from her back as quickly as she would stab you. More of her I cannot say, she does not allow anyone to get close enough. I can, however, assure you that she is amongst those of us looking to protect and serve not just the advancement of society, but the greater good."

   "Don't take this the wrong way-"

   "Vous êtes sceptique; it is to be expected. Particularly if what the good Docteur has told us of you."

    James paused for a moment, unsure if he wanted to take that bait. "What's she said?"

    "That there is a history between the two of you. Monsieur Hawkins believes you two were in a relationship that did not work out, I think it is more that one of you wished to be and the timing has never been right."

    A small chuckle left his lips as James shook his head. To some extent, they were both right, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Let's just leave it at there's a history."

    "Comme vous le souhaitez. If there are no further questions, I must return to my work. There is much to prepare before I must travel to California for the next expedition."

    "You're really going back there?"

    "Absolument. If you are aware of Madame Peggy's camera then you are also aware of Docteur Shannon's desire to find the truth. A truth I would like to know as well."

    "You realize that this could go terribly wrong. You've been there; you know the dangers."

    "Of course. That does not stop my desire to know, to prove that there is a menagerie of uncharted biodiversity all around us that does not want to be found."

    James groaned. "Because it shouldn't be found, Doctor Moliére. Look I... I've seen things. Things that cannot be explained; monsters, primordial beings, extraterrestrial organisms- myth made real. What you're describing is something beneath that umbrella, and it is not something that should be disturbed by any means."

    "Do you think we have not considered all of this, Monsieur Conrad," Montgomery asked gently. He sighed. "You were a soldier once, yes? You did the dirty work; the fighting, killing, and the sacrificing. I commend you for having the fortitude to partake in such actions. It was something I would have done had I not contracted polio at eight years old."

    "I am sorry."

    "Your pity is not necessary, I know what I am capable of even if my right leg still does not. I have the strength that I do because of people like Madame Peggy. It would be a dishonor to pretend that she does not deserve answers, that her family should not be able to have peace." A heavy sight left both men then. "I am not asking you to come, Monsieur Conrad; that is Docteur Shannon's task. I can say that we know what we are going into and we have no trepidations. I do hope you will come along for the ride, to help us to find our needle in a haystack so to speak; if you choose otherwise though, I will not blame you."

    Running a hand through his hair, James couldn't help but cuss under his breath. "I'm not making any guarantees, but I... I will talk to Christine further. I appreciate your time, Doctor Moliére."

    "You are quite welcome. Have a good day, Monsieur Conrad."

    James hung up the phone only after hearing the click of the receiver on the other end sound first. He closed his eyes, sighing as he clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees. His thumbs massaged the flat area of bone between his eyebrows, right foot tapping as memories filled his mind. The oak tree. The fight with his mother. The feel of Christine's body in his arms. Basic. Christine's lips. His first kill. His mother's letters about how the little tramp had already moved on. His first uncharted island. Christine's smile. Jenny...

    Jenny... Jenny with the sniper round embedded in her temple... Jenny, seven, with the world at her fingertips... dead.

    In a rush of panic, James rose from the chair he was sitting in gripping the table in front of him, and hurling it across the kitchen with a scream of rage. The phone bounced against the tile floor; the ashtray shattered against a cabinet shortly before the plate from his beans on toast and coffee mug did. He begged the memories to stop, flashes of all of their faces rolling through his mind like a strobe light. Jenny. Thomas. John. The helicopters. Jenny... Briggs. Chapman. Nieves. Randa. Jenny... On and on they came, never-ending no matter what he did, nor how hard he beat his fists into the walls.

    Sobbing, James collapsed amongst the debris. His nails bit into his scalp as he pulled his knees to his chest. He hated how weak and helpless he felt. He was a soldier. A damned good soldier. Former SAS for Christ's sake. He wasn't supposed to cry, he was better than this. He would be better than this.

    Reaching into the cupboard under the sink, he pulled out a bottle of Old Forester unscrewing the cap with such desperation that it practically flew across the room. James didn't bother with a cup, he just tilted the bottle straight back, drinking until he needed to stop for air. His hand shook as he wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, the bottle still held tight. He'd been told this would happen. He'd been warned, so to speak. Shell Shock... Fuck that.

    James drank more. He was fine. It was a rubbish diagnosis... He drank some more; the liquor would help. He closed his eyes and saw Jenny's lifeless face, her blood pooling in his hands. He downed the rest of the bottle.

    Nothing healed the past like time, that's what they said. So why was he still seeing it eleven years later? Would it always hurt like this? James hated that he didn't have any more answers or any more bourbon. He closed his eyes once more, leaning back against the cabinet only to see Christine. She was eighteen and perfect once more, sat in his lap; his legs on either side of her, arms wrapped around her waist as he rocked her under their tree and sang softly to her. His sea-glass eyes were filled with tears as he opened them once more. Immediately, his hands were in the cupboard again searching for any liquor left. He found a half-full bottle of Absolut behind a can of oven cleaner and a box of borax. It would do.

    As he took a swig from it, he thought back over her offer. Thirty grand was nothing to turn his nose up at, he'd made roughly that to go to Skull Island and that was with a bonus. He had some wiggle room here, but was it worth it? As he drank more of the vodka, images of that night nineteen years ago flashed through his mind. He couldn't do this... He couldn't be around her and not tell her... She deserved the truth, but he couldn't. And he hated that about himself.