Taylor: Part III

The time passed way too fast, and before Taylor knew it, the hour neared eleven.

"Oh, crap, it's late," he said, springing out of his chair. "I'm supposed to be somewhere in the morning."

"Hot date?" Rivera asked with a smirk.

Taylor snickered. "Well, I think my boyfriend is hot, but no. Benson wants me to see him since I never actually went through the psychological and aptitude testing."

Rivera lifted an eyebrow, watching him with a bemused quirk of her lip. "Why do all the beautiful men have to be gay? And Benson? Ew. He's a creep."

"I'm pansexual, not gay," he corrected, fighting the urge to plant his hand on his hip. Somehow, he didn't think that would help his argument. "Now Diego? He's flaming, hot, and doesn't share, sorry."

Rivera giggled. "That's too bad. You really are gorgeous."

Was it burning up in that room? No, it was just Taylor, and not in a sexy way. It wasn't that he considered himself ugly, but he didn't think much about his appeal to others. He preferred an emotional connection. And if his girlfriend or boyfriend happened to be physically attractive, it was a bonus, but not a requirement. Looks weren't important.

Clearing his throat, he returned to her second statement. "I don't really know him, but he cornered me. And he gave me this job, so I'm going to play along and see if I can find out more about a friend of mine."

Scowling, she clenched her fists in her lap. Fire blazed across her narrowed eyes, and her nostrils flared. "That's a dangerous game to play. He has too much power, and reports about unwanted sexual advances seem to go unnoticed here. I don't trust him."

"Did he hurt you?" he blurted, mentally kicking himself for being so insensitive.

She shook her head. "No, thank God. His demeanor changed when my pregnancy came up. But all the females complain about him. I've seen him trailing one of the scientists, and she didn't look happy."

Hm, he'd have to ask Monica about this. Taylor had been disconnected from everyone since their arrival, and unlike his friends, he hadn't had an opportunity to observe the staff here.

"I know," he sighed, "but he sent my best friend away, and I need answers." Answers he wouldn't receive from his father.

She shook her head and sighed, casting him a sympathetic gaze. "Hm. I can't imagine why anyone would be sent outside. Benson likes control; I think he gets off on it."

Taylor cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his other foot. "Erm, he... my friend... we had a misunderstanding, and he punched me. Then he was expelled before I could say or do anything."

Rivera's eyes widened. "That was you? Jesus, I was in the promenade when that happened. With the way he beat the shit out of you, I almost thought you'd slept with his girlfriend or something."

Well, no, he and Monica actually never made it that far when they'd dated. They'd been content with their casual relationship; there was always food, sometimes they watched movies and cuddled, or they sent playful texts, but neither had been interested in anything more. She didn't question it, and neither had he.

Taylor swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and holding it. Then, he released it and said, "We lost a member of our group when we arrived, and--"

A voice came over the radio again, cutting off his words. "Beta two, come in, over."

By now, Taylor had heard that call so much, he almost continued with his train of thought. Except this time, a horrifyingly familiar voice answered.

"Your soldiers are dead. Don't come after me. Over and out."

Jayson.

And dead? Why would he be near any of the soldiers if he'd been exiled? What was going on?

He reached for the microphone before Rivera snatched it, keeping him from it.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, moving to take it back. "I need to speak to him."

Rivera's eyes widened as she withheld the device. "Are you crazy? There are other people listening. Benson would be all over you within minutes."

"I don't care! If I don't reach him now, I'll lose him."

"You'll lose him either way," she countered in a mild tone. "There's more going on that we don't know about, and I guarantee you that someone is letting Benson know what's going on. You can't win this battle."

There had to be something they could do. Jayson shouldn't be on his own; not like this. If he'd left willingly, that was one thing, but he wasn't given a choice. None of them were.

Taylor closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. Jayson was within range, and there was nothing anyone could do to contact him.

"Please," he whispered. "He's my best friend."

"I'm sorry," she breathed, "but you can't. I'm doing this to protect you. If soldiers are after him, there's nothing we can do."

No. Taylor refused to believe that. There was always another solution, another way to find an answer to even the most complicated equations.

More chatter filled the room from the other teams, but Jayson didn't respond. And Taylor had no doubt his best friend would somehow evade them and remain hidden. He was awesome like that. If anyone didn't stand a chance, it was this facility's personnel.

"Do I have any other options?" he asked, expelling a heavy sigh.

"Not unless you can hack past dozens of encryptions within our database," she replied with a shrug. "Even then, that's assuming this isn't completely off the books."

Now there was an idea, and something specific to Taylor's skillset. Not that anyone needed to know. It was doable, though he'd need help with this one.

And as much as he hated not speaking to Jayson, Rivera was right. Someone would be listening in on this, and Taylor needed to be smart if he wanted to help.

Running his hand through his hair, he mumbled, "Alright. I'll leave it, but can you keep an ear out for him? No one else will listen, but I promise this wasn't entirely his fault. He was off his PTSD meds when he snapped, and no one gave him an opportunity to explain."

Rivera frowned and narrowed her eyes. "Look, I get PTSD is rough, but if he's already hit you once, he'll probably do it again."

Sheesh, Jayson made one damn mistake, and now he was being labeled the friend beater or... whatever the equivalent of a spouse beater was.

"You don't understand," he groaned, only for Rivera to hold up her hand and cut him off.

"No, you don't understand," she said in a thick accent that wasn't as noticeable earlier. It was a sign Taylor was about to find himself in deep water. "It always starts with justification. 'It was an accident. This was the first time.' Then they promise they won't do it again. But it does keep happening, and you keep coming up with reasons to excuse their behavior. Take it from someone who knows."

Well, shit. Taylor was such a jerk. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," she interjected sharply. Then her gaze softened before she took his hand and squeezed. "I'm not in that situation anymore, and I want to move past it. I'm only saying this so you can understand from someone who has been through domestic violence."

He wanted to contradict her, to tell her Jayson wasn't that guy. In the entire six years they lived together, Taylor never once felt unsafe around him. Had it not been for this situation, this never would have happened. It was the facility who'd let Jayson down. They were responsible for what had happened.

Except he couldn't tell her these things; not when her eyes still reflected pain that continued to haunt her. Not when she'd been a victim of abuse.

And in a way, he really did understand. But Jayson was different. Under normal circumstances, he'd never harm anybody.

But did that mean Taylor himself was in denial? No one knew Jayson better than he did, and someone needed to believe in him, even if nothing could be done about it yet.

So instead of arguing, Taylor only nodded. "I'm still sorry. No one deserves that."

The words brought on the realization he hadn't deserved it either. Even if it was an isolated incident, it was one time too many. If they reunited, Jayson at least owed Taylor an apology. And possibly a year without soap and a shower as punishment.

Wait, scratch that. A month would be less smelly and slightly more tolerable. And that was plenty of time to think about what he did.

Then Taylor would accept Jayson's apology.

Using the desk for leverage, Rivera pushed herself to her feet before plugging in the headset again, muting the radio. Then she glanced at him with a tired expression. "You should probably go before someone comes looking for you."

It was a dismissal, and anxiety pricked at Taylor's chest. He didn't know if he'd somehow offended her, but she was right. If Benson didn't come to see of Taylor had overheard the conversation, Dad would probably send someone to retrieve him.

With a sigh, he nodded and mumbled a goodnight before exiting the room. Now alone, he trudged through the silent corridors until he found himself standing outside his suite.

He wasn't ready to go inside, even if his pillow softly called to him from the other side. Dad could be awake, waiting and ready to treat him like a child again. Or worse, pretend to understand and care.

Next door was Monica's suite, and Taylor bit his lip, wondering how angry she'd be if he woke her up in the middle of the night. For the life of him, he couldn't remember if she became the equivalent of a spitting cat or if she was chill, but he missed her, and decided it was worth the risk.

Mind made up, Taylor approached her door and pressed a button on the small key panel. Thirty seconds passed with him shifting from one foot to the other, and as he was about to turn away, Monica appeared.

Dark sleep shorts revealed bare legs while her tank top clung to her features like a second skin. Her hair hung in mussed curls, and her droopy eyes blinked slowly as her gaze settled on him.

Lips curving into a soft smile, she said, "Hi, Taylor. What brings you here in the middle of the night?"

With a shrug, he mumbled, "I was coming back from the communications room, and I don't want to see Dad."

She snorted. "I don't blame you. He seems a bit temperamental."

"Yeah, well, that happens when your wife is Patient Zero," he replied in a harsh tone. "It tends to make one's general unpleasant attitude even more unbearable."

Monica's entire demeanor shifted as she froze. Her eyes suddenly didn't appear heavy, and her mouth fell open.

Realizing his blunder, Taylor clamped his mouth shut. As one of the scientists searching for a cure, it was logical to assume Monica knew, especially since he let slip earlier that Mom was still alive.  Apparently, this wasn't the case.

Snatching his hand, Monica pulled him inside and closed the door before asking, "Did you just imply what I think you did?"

Now it was his turn to clam up, and he shrugged helplessly. "I‐ I thought— crap, Dad is going to kill me."

She placed her hand on her hip and sighed, dipping her head. "I suspected after the way he acted in the infirmary, but holy moly, Taylor. How did you find out? How do you feel about this?"

Truthfully, it was complicated, but he hadn't had time to process any of it between all the drama and the world ending. "How am I supposed to feel? She's in a secret lab downstairs where Dad keeps her alive for... reasons?" Flailing his arm for emphasis, he continued. "He wants to find a cure, but is too blind to see that she's suffering. And it's not good."

Taylor didn't add the part where he'd thrown up right after seeing her rotting body or how terrifying she was. The woman who'd showered him with love and affection was gone, replaced by an empty shell of something feral and inhuman.

Monica gathered him into a hug and squeezed. "I'm sorry," she said into his chest. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

He nodded, inhaling the citrus scent of her shampoo. It wasn't his favorite, but at least it wasn't apple, or worse, something generic from a bottom of the barrel factory.

Stepping back, Monica quirked her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Did you just sniff my hair?"

"No," he replied a bit too fast. "I was taking a deep breath so I could sigh."

"That's like saying you're scratching your brain when you're really picking your nose."

Taylor laughed. "You're weird."

"Says the man who dumped me for buying generic soap." She stuck out her tongue before offering him a wink. Then she turned and walked toward the bedrooms, speaking over her shoulder as she crossed the expansive room. "I'm going back to bed, but are you free to help me in the morning? I'm having trouble accessing certain files in the medical database."

Taylor's heart plummeted. He hadn't expected to bring this up so soon. Clearing his throat, he said, "Um, about that... I have an appointment with Benson in a few hours."

Monica halted midstep and whirled around, this time eying him as if she were staring at a complete stranger. A muscle twitched in her cheek before she drew a slow breath. "Benson, as in the jackass who is the reason Jayson snapped."

It wasn't a question, but rather an accusation, and Taylor had no defense for himself as he withered beneath her glare.

***

Hi! I'm sorry for the slow updates. It's been a crazy month between my husband having pneumonia and me catching Covid. I dunno about you guys, but I'm totally ready for a redo of the last two years.

Okay, so questions:

How do you think this is going to go between Taylor and Monica?

What are your thoughts on the conversation that almost was between Taylor and Jayson?

Is John a misguided man with good intentions, or is there something more sinister going on?

Thank you all for reading!