They had finally entered the submarine, and they were finally entering the deep waters. When they had shown up in the main compartment with Smith carrying Led's stretcher to the mattress, the other participants of the mission caught sight of their ruffled arrival.

"Good day, Mr Meddles, Smith, Mills, Miss Winner, and - who is this person?" One honorary Columbia palaeontologist named Thomas Johnson asked in surprise. Well, surprise was a weak word. Perplexity and utter terror fit it much better.

"Led O'Donnell, dearest colleagues, he was the unfortunate victim of a terrible situation," Meddles replied politely, eyeing every one of them not without a certain wariness in his gaze. "Experienced a most unfortunate misunderstanding which resulted in his temporary relocation to... other places."

"Oh, well," the palaeontologist muttered, still in awful disbelief at what was happening. "I guess that he needs rest, and... might I ask why is he in such a saddening state?"

It seemed the words had spilt out on their own account, and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Smith exchanged understanding glances with Meddles before returning back to the question at hand.

"Mistaken as a therapy patient a few days ago, he's all better now," Smith stated, sympathetically frowning at the unconscious young man. "We informed the authorities and flew him back to Spain. Such a disheartening misunderstanding for such a brilliant mind."

A few other scholars studied Led's limp body during the few moments of uncomfortable silence that followed. Mills awkwardly looked down to his feet, while Meddles caught the gazes of every person that dared to raise their heads. Smith was still standing with Led's stretcher.

At last, a chemist from UPenn broke the strenuous silence.

"Well we will be delighted to collaborate with Miss Chaisson's research team and Mr O'Donnell when he is well," the man said, his sky blue eyes sparkling favourably in respect to Led and the others. "UPenn is glad to have other colleagues to work on this aggravating issue."

"We are delighted as well," Smith relievedly replied. "Now we've to lay Mr O'Donnell on some mattress so he gets his rest."

However, it was evident in the air that Miss Chaisson's team wasn't going to get away that easily.

"We are glad to have you on our team as well... but as pleased as we are, there is a question that we sadly must bother to ask," a woman chemist from Yale asked. "We have heard rumours that... are quite unfortunate, to say the least, but they have been circulating even around the Vatican, to say the least. Is it true that Mr O'Donnell has been accused of deliberate fraud and forgery by his infamous treatises actually belonging to the Swedish physicist Colbain? A person of colour, simply to add?"

Even on Meddles' features etched an expression of mild surprise which he so subtly hid behind his thin-rimmed glasses; the keen-eyed physicist couldn't find the right words at first when, as he was about to open his mouth in reply, the sub doors slowly opened and in stepped a tuft of red hair.

No one seemed to have noticed Arlene's previous absence. But she, like a doe, adamantly strode towards the Yale woman and gave a sanguine smile.

"I see you've already met our most valued representative, Miss Seva Virtanen," Arlene cheerfully greeted, watching the blonde-haired's confounded reaction to her knowing her name. "Unfortunately, he has been the victim of such mistreating that many of the people present would find quite dreadful, but we're sure he'll prove himself to you all once he's decently rested."

"We'll see," Virtanen commented, giving the same unnecessarily bright smile back to her, having recovered from her surprise. "Anyhow in the worst case the UN will no doubt give Mr O'Donnell just what he deserves."

At that point, Arlene's happy smile faded, her composure somewhat deterring once she had heard the last sentence spoken by the blonde. Yet only for a moment. She smiled even brighter.

"Without question. Although that, also in the worst case, expects us all," Arlene said.

"Well, anyhow, we're all excited to collaborate with new teams, and I hope that applies to everyone present," the UPenn chemist gently intervened. "For now, let us all get our rest."

With that, the conversation was over. Without further ado, the compartment slowly emptied out and everyone left to go to their own compartments. Led was taken to the medical room, a room where first aid and other medical services were offered in a tiny cupboard. There was quite an insignificant amount of radio and hologram technology, since the sub was delving into the deepest waters and the power of the Wi-Fi connection onboard would rapidly decrease, which was one of the most unpleasant disadvantages of such an expedition route.

Perhaps the only positive thing, or the only worthy benefit of the strenuous journey was the exact goal to be reached in the mission - diving deep underwater - though despite whichever height at which the level of thermo-physical isolation was raised to in the submersible, perceptible pressure fluctuations and the effects of durable non-exposure to natural light weren't easy to ignore. If there were other benefits to deep-sea submersion, he couldn't recount any of them, no matter how hard he tried.

Led had woken up a few minutes before. He had heard what his fellow scholars had said about him, and how Arlene had fortified his undermined reputation. The woman was ambiguous, her attitude towards him was still unclear to him, and obscure seemed the fact that he was, in fact, on the mission, in the little submarine, and more than fifty feet underwater. The sub was going slow so as not to injure the passengers. But his nausea had faded away, the effects of his insomnia were felt no more and the snide comments of various journals and their careful readers had no longer the power they had had on him two weeks ago. He had become a stronger man, and the vigour to redeem himself of the mounts of animadversion brought upon him had found its way to his youthful soul.

For despite all, he would be participating in the mission. He was actually in the submarine. If there was lain another bout of accusation, and the order was that in complete urgency, he be brought to the shore and escorted to that same asylum, he'd still have some time. And despite the fatigue, the ongoing migraines, insomnia and the mental strain, he was sure to fight for his solemnity.

For he was finally there.

(1078 words)