Under My Skin

Under My Skin - Part 41

Six hours later, the beginning of the midnight shift when even Zachs had to rest, Rachel staggered into Cetz's office. The head of Watch Two was keeled over on his desk, snoring. Rachel snickered and put her coffee mug on his desk with a sharp clack.

"Cute. I should take a picture of this," she muttered as she pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail.

"You do and I'll email everyone that one picture of you during that incident with the guacamole," said Cetz, muffled by his arms pillowing is head. "Did you sleep?"

"Yeah, five and a half hours."

"You better sleep more once we're done talking," he said, pushing himself straight with his chair. "Have a seat. I'm apparently your confessor; you might as well be comfortable."

Rachel sat, but looked all but comfortable. The silence stood between them for a good minute before she spoke up. "To get Louis out—"

"You used Grovic's paralyzing device."

Rachel's head bowed slightly and she nodded. "How did you know?"

"It was a level five device. My computer gave me notice the moment it left cold storage. It probably sent one to Meg and Teeg as well."

Rachel seemed to deflate in her chair, the white lab coat a size too big. "I didn't want to use it, but I couldn't think of any other safe way to get Louis out without Will being hurt."

"I know. Did you check on him?"

"Before I got here. He was sleeping, but a nurse told me he was moving his feet earlier, so the paralysis has passed. I don't want to face him just yet." Rachel slowly swirled around the weak coffee in her mug. "Does it ever bother you that our group is benefiting from the brutal experiments done by others? The things they invent..."

"Sometimes," murmured Cetz. "But I remind myself that what we take from their crimes prevents those crimes from happening again. And sometimes those torture devices can do some good, like the BTs. Many medical discoveries were made by using those interred in Auschwitz as guinea pigs."

"That kind of schadenfreude doesn't make the medicine any less bitter."

"True." Cetz rubbed his eyes before going on. "But it's not like you were the one that made the thing."

"The kind of technology I've seen in the devices we confiscate..." Rachel shook her head in pity. "It could help the medical community so much. The Devil's Neckbrace paralyzes people but if we could reverse engineer it we could find a way to give mobility back to people paralyzed by injury or disease. But we can't get funding because of the stigma attached to it."

"Ain't it the truth." Cetz took a breath a tilted his head thoughtfully. "But of course it's okay for medical science to develop a neurotoxin, originally used for helping people with muscle spasms, to fix the wrinkles of every aging gold digger."

Rachel snorted. "Or develop hundreds of different medicines for instant erections."

"Or little pills that will make the fat drop right off!"

"Or foams and creams to treat baldness!"

Cetz coughed, running his fingers through the fuzz of his hair. "Right, stupid stuff."

Rachel smirked for a moment before tapping her fingers together. "Still, I don't want to think of the kind of... mental stuff Will went through being paralyzed."

"Speaking of mental, I've been wondering about Will and Louis' "situation". What kind of stresses it could have on their partnership."

"They seem to be doing okay, even after all this. No worse than it usually would with Louis as a partner. If anything I think they've bonded in a way."

"True," admitted Cetz. "But I've been playing with the idea of them talking with a psychologist."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Louis will have nothing to do with that."

"But he'll follow procedure. Technically, though we've been lax in upholding it, it is procedure for agents to have a psych check after a traumatic event," said Cetz. "I would think being shoved down a human throat is traumatic enough."

"But, how would the psychologist deal with it? I doubt there is a scenario in their textbooks that accounts for being swallowed alive. I don't even think there's a word for it."

"Phagophobia."

Rachel squinted at Cetz. "That's the fear of choking."

"Vorarephobia?"

"You just made that up."

"Did not."

"Did to."

"I'm going back to sleep now." Cetz plunked his head back down on the desk.

Rachel laughed again. "Coward."

"Am not."