hands into his eyes and rubbed as hard as he could stand.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Jeff's head snapped around to find Geoffrey standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
"I'm going through the clinical trials."
"How the fuck did you get in here?"
Jeff squinted up at him. "Are you serious?"
"I changed all these codes last year."
Jeff stared at him blank-faced, a storm of emotion roiling just below the surface. Would he really have turned out this way?
"Whatever!" snapped Geoffrey, waving a hand in the air. "Answer the damn question."
"Which question? What the fuck I'm doing or how the fuck I got in here?"
Geoffrey took a reflexive step toward him. A brutal flash of anger washed over his features for a second, then he went completely still and stood looking down at Jeff, seemingly inanimate save for the steady tick of his jaw muscle.
Jeff looked right back at him wondering if he had even an inkling of what was going on behind those eyes. Again he wondered if this was the man he would have become had the roles been reversed.
Geoffrey finally broke the silence. "Why are you digging through my papers?" His voice was cold and flat.
"I was bored. You left me here all night, remember? And, quite frankly, I'm glad you did." He reached for a stapled sheaf of papers and shook them in the air. "Clinical trial number six, forty percent miscarriage rate in the test group."
"That was early on," snapped Geoffrey.
Jeff tossed the sheaf at Geoffrey's feet and hefted another. "Number nine, thirty seven percent miscarriage."
Tossing it at Geoffrey, he scooped up another and flipped through the first few pages.
"Number twelve, three deaths during delivery," he said, flapping the sheaf in the air. "How do you explain that?"
"They're experiments, Jeff! That's why we test. To work out the kinks."
"Kinks? Three mothers dead, Geoffrey. You call that a kink?"
"Yes I do. And so did you before."
"Has the FDA seen any of these results?"
"Of course not."
Jeff swung his arms across the piles, scattering sheafs of paper in all directions. "Forty six clinical trials and only one without complications? Only one the world will ever see? That's not science, Geoffrey!"
"Oh please, Jeff! Don't be so fucking obtuse - it really doesn't suit you. You know perfectly well how this game is played."
Jeff buried his face in his hands, elbows on knees, and began a low keening moan. Watching him sitting there, cross-legged on the floor amid a storm of papers, Geoffrey was reminded of himself as a child. He'd never been a good loser, and board games with his older siblings had predictably ended in misery for all involved. He took three careful steps towards Jeff.
"Look, you're not well," he said, gently laying a hand on Jeff's shoulder, "The anomaly is doing something to you. I'm concerned it's degrading your cognitive functions. We need to run some tests."
"I'm not getting back in the scanner!" Jeff yelled, flinching away from his touch. "I'm fine!"
"Are you, Jeff? Are you really? Look around you. You're sitting on the floor throwing things about like a child having a tantrum. And screaming at me as if I'm the enemy."
Jeff looked up at him, his eyes red. "I don't know who you are."
"Yes you do," Geoffrey said gently. "I'm you." He set his features into the best paternal look he could muster. "I care about you; Just as I care about myself; Because we're one and the same." Sweeping aside a stack of paper with his foot, he sat down cross-legged facing Jeff. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I was being spiteful. I was jealous of you and Camilla; of you having with her what I used to have - before the miscarriage, before it all went to shit. But I realized that I meant what I said the day we first met. That we each have our roles to play, for the good of the whole. Yours is what it is, as is mine. And I'm okay with that now."
Jeff was looking at him with a doubtful expression, his face flushed and eyebrows
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Jeff's head snapped around to find Geoffrey standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
"I'm going through the clinical trials."
"How the fuck did you get in here?"
Jeff squinted up at him. "Are you serious?"
"I changed all these codes last year."
Jeff stared at him blank-faced, a storm of emotion roiling just below the surface. Would he really have turned out this way?
"Whatever!" snapped Geoffrey, waving a hand in the air. "Answer the damn question."
"Which question? What the fuck I'm doing or how the fuck I got in here?"
Geoffrey took a reflexive step toward him. A brutal flash of anger washed over his features for a second, then he went completely still and stood looking down at Jeff, seemingly inanimate save for the steady tick of his jaw muscle.
Jeff looked right back at him wondering if he had even an inkling of what was going on behind those eyes. Again he wondered if this was the man he would have become had the roles been reversed.
Geoffrey finally broke the silence. "Why are you digging through my papers?" His voice was cold and flat.
"I was bored. You left me here all night, remember? And, quite frankly, I'm glad you did." He reached for a stapled sheaf of papers and shook them in the air. "Clinical trial number six, forty percent miscarriage rate in the test group."
"That was early on," snapped Geoffrey.
Jeff tossed the sheaf at Geoffrey's feet and hefted another. "Number nine, thirty seven percent miscarriage."
Tossing it at Geoffrey, he scooped up another and flipped through the first few pages.
"Number twelve, three deaths during delivery," he said, flapping the sheaf in the air. "How do you explain that?"
"They're experiments, Jeff! That's why we test. To work out the kinks."
"Kinks? Three mothers dead, Geoffrey. You call that a kink?"
"Yes I do. And so did you before."
"Has the FDA seen any of these results?"
"Of course not."
Jeff swung his arms across the piles, scattering sheafs of paper in all directions. "Forty six clinical trials and only one without complications? Only one the world will ever see? That's not science, Geoffrey!"
"Oh please, Jeff! Don't be so fucking obtuse - it really doesn't suit you. You know perfectly well how this game is played."
Jeff buried his face in his hands, elbows on knees, and began a low keening moan. Watching him sitting there, cross-legged on the floor amid a storm of papers, Geoffrey was reminded of himself as a child. He'd never been a good loser, and board games with his older siblings had predictably ended in misery for all involved. He took three careful steps towards Jeff.
"Look, you're not well," he said, gently laying a hand on Jeff's shoulder, "The anomaly is doing something to you. I'm concerned it's degrading your cognitive functions. We need to run some tests."
"I'm not getting back in the scanner!" Jeff yelled, flinching away from his touch. "I'm fine!"
"Are you, Jeff? Are you really? Look around you. You're sitting on the floor throwing things about like a child having a tantrum. And screaming at me as if I'm the enemy."
Jeff looked up at him, his eyes red. "I don't know who you are."
"Yes you do," Geoffrey said gently. "I'm you." He set his features into the best paternal look he could muster. "I care about you; Just as I care about myself; Because we're one and the same." Sweeping aside a stack of paper with his foot, he sat down cross-legged facing Jeff. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I was being spiteful. I was jealous of you and Camilla; of you having with her what I used to have - before the miscarriage, before it all went to shit. But I realized that I meant what I said the day we first met. That we each have our roles to play, for the good of the whole. Yours is what it is, as is mine. And I'm okay with that now."
Jeff was looking at him with a doubtful expression, his face flushed and eyebrows
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