Discovery - Part VI (Patreon)

A single finger curled around Sierra’s waist and hugged her into an equally large thumb, pinching her into an embrace that plucked her from the ground. The open air tickled her naked skin, her only recourse against the chill to nuzzle into her captor’s hand, to rely on her grip. The world outside the gentle fist shifted and twisted in a blur of movement, and then, at the peak of her ascent, Sierra could inhale again and breathe in the view above her. That gigantic face and all of its details came together like a mountainside, the beauty of the scientist smiling over her little form akin to an unbelievable vista that swept Sierra’s spirit into a freeing wind.

Duval, the name chimed in her head, replicating the very tone she used to address that overseer -- a purr to get her attention, an instinctive whine that earned her pity. Despite being washed over with such a feeling of powerlessness, Sierra truly never felt more electrified, more in control. The life she wanted, the world she wanted, had all been her’s -- at least, for that one night that was spent in Duval’s hotel room.

“Slow down there, Sierra!” Kendall’s voice was crudely interjected into the fantasy Sierra had been enjoying. Without that breaking her focus, she may not have ever remembered that she was running on a treadmill there within the community’s rec center. “What are you running away from? A bear? I’ve never seen you like this!”

Sierra chuckled, her throat too dry to reply any better until the treadmill’s pace was brought down. The weight of her weariness only then began to sink onto Sierra, each subsequent step falling further and further out of the rhythm she was entranced by. She slumped off the treadmill with an exhausted sigh; one hand swiped the sweat from her brow, the other clumsily found the water bottle she carried with her.

“Yeah, drink up,” Kendall giggled, standing by with her hands on her hips. She was worked out as well, but had far more control over her poise compared to Sierra. “Something really put a kick in your step, huh?”

After a long chug of water, Sierra gasped for air, nodding to Kendall’s inquiry. “I’ve, uh… I suppose I have some energy to burn…”

“Hah, well, I was about to ask if you wanted to get coffee before heading out, but--”

“Coffee sounds nice!” Sierra laughed, uncurling from her post-exercise hunch. Kendall was surprised again to see this much pep from her friend, who was quick to begin towards the rec center’s lobby. For once, it was her following a step behind Sierra, and she was proving hard to keep up with.

It was lively at the rec center, a spike of activity having risen since the showcase five days prior. There was a fresh feeling among the community, including those who were unable to attend; from their homes in the terrarium, they were able to watch the showcase for themselves, and all were fascinated by the simulated environments and new technologies promised to be on the horizon. Sierra was among those riding that wave of interest, but what her neighbors could not comprehend was the full scope of that which drove her.

“Sorry for the wait,” Sierra apologized as she made it to the booth that Kendall had picked out. She slid Kendall’s order across the table after sitting opposite of her. “All the self-service machines had such long lines. I’ve never seen it so busy at the rec center…”

“I’ve rarely ever seen you at the rec center,” Kendall teased, swirling a spoon through her beverage to cool it. She noticed how the heat and bitterness had no effect on Sierra like it did her. “Did they replace you? At the showcase? And not tell any of us?”

Sierra giggled into her drink, having to set it down to reply. “What?”

“You’re usually, well… How to put it…” Kendall chuckled over every attempted wording in her head. “Uh, you’re normally secluded, at least until you got back from that trip.”

“It was really exciting,” Sierra said. “You were there. Wasn’t it amazing?”

Kendall nodded, but her eyes were not as lit up the way Sierra’s were. “It was fun to get out of this cage, that’s for sure,” she replied. “Exciting, sure. Amazing? I think you had a more fun time than any of us.”

Sierra glanced aside as she delayed her reply with a sip of coffee -- she was quickly running out. “Maybe I did,” she said. “After all, I got to experience that luxury floor.”

“Yeah, that’s probably more fun than cutting wheat in a field,” Kendall laughed. “Was it really that relaxing? When the whole showcase thing was over, you seemed pretty out of it.”

“I-It was a lot to take in. But, I’m really glad I went… It was such a wonderful night. Maybe the best night I’ve had since shrinking.”

“I wonder if we’ll go on something like that again?” Kendall blinked at her coffee’s murky surface. “... Wasn’t the showcase in the middle of the day…?”

“... You’re right,” Sierra nodded, “I-I meant-- it was a wonderful day.” She shook her head to express clarity. “Wow, i-it really felt like it was at night up there! Crazy…”

Their own evening was approaching, with their artificial sunlight beginning to set over the western glass wall. The two women walked back to their neighboring homes together, Kendall separating with a yawn and a promise to sleep early; Sierra, however, was alert and awake, pumping with energy still to burn, and a plan on how to burn it. As soon as she had her front door closed and the curtains pulled over their windows, the tickle of loneliness got her to giggle, her amusement tripping her into the couch with a bounce.

After rolling onto her back, the memories naturally came flowing to her. That stark angle of looking straight skyward had her vividly recall what it was like to gawk at a gigantic, skyscraper-sized woman. Even if it was just her boring ceiling, the image glistening in her eyes had her itching under the fantasy -- Duval, standing impossibly tall over her, her feet larger than any of the houses she kept watch over, her smile hanging high overhead like a faraway cloud.

Sierra cozied into the corner of the couch, her grin spread wide as she reclined. “Her smile is so different,” she mumbled to herself, “after just a few drinks…” Fingers played with the waist of her pants to pull them down, her other hand caressing her breast in a way that swirled her shirt up to her shoulders. When she paused, it was only for a brief breath, to savor every moment of these memories just as she had savored every moment of when these memories occurred.

A slow start, but she quickly picked up momentum. Sierra sighed as two fingers rubbed her clitoris with drilling intent. Her legs were spread apart, one flung over the couch’s back while the other lazily slumped off the side, both twitching with jolts of excitement. Giggles turned to moans, her temperature rising as she fell more immersed in her memories. She remembered being between Duval’s toes and her desperate dance with them, and she remembered being picked up, made to feel so light and insignificant in that woman’s palm. Duval’s movements were momentous and sweeping, always impressing Sierra even in these recollections -- she still shuddered with sincere fear when she imagined Duval’s drop of weight hitting the mattress, an injection of worry that only accented her arousal, not muddle it. Her body twisted more as she pleasured herself into a graceless position, trying to rekindle those exact feelings of her body being manipulated by Duval’s fingers.

It was not the same as back then, not as real, but her fantasy of the past was genuine enough to bring her to climax. She winced with her hips thrusted forward, orgasming with Duval’s lips envisioned around her and her fingers replaced with that madly lashing tongue. Fully red in the face, Sierra flipped forward and muffled a whine-like moan into the armrest, allowing herself to be unruly in her own privacy.

After holding this tight position for several seconds, Sierra sighed and allowed her body to relax. She had resurfaced back into the silent reality, the only noise being the whirring of her ceiling fan. Even at this end stage of her masturbation, Sierra treated herself to memories of Duval’s voice, her lingering tenseness dwindling away with every comforting word whispered to her.

“I… love you, Duval,” Sierra said to herself, almost too giddy to mutter it aloud. But reaffirmed and smiling brightly, she said it again, “I love you, Duval…”

Duval waited outside the supervisor’s office, seated in a chair with her fingers gripped together and a knee tapping anxiously. Her face was downturned and her expression distant, focused on something that was not there. Every once in a while, her hands would open up and she would stare into her palms; these moments were when she inhaled after going lengths without breathing, too distracted with the conundrum she had tripped herself into to do so naturally.

Before the showcase, thinking of Sierra in her hands was a simple joy to keep herself positive in her low points. As she waited to be called into Ericka’s office, however, the thought of Sierra caused more distress than calm. It was all she could think about -- all she was supposed to think about. Ericka had said as much when they first returned to Shoote Labs, warning Duval that she would need to prepare her case in the coming days. In that time, Duval had readied a number of arguments -- excuses, lies, and half-truths -- but in her throat constantly was the want to give Sierra an apology.

What is she going to think of all this? Duval pondered with a blank gaze down at the floor. Sierra… She was so excited… She was so happy for once…

The door beside her opened, alerting her to sit up straight. Ericka peeked the corner, carrying a lifeless but professional smile. “Shall we?” she said, pushing some perkiness. Duval nodded and followed her, but not without sensing some of Ericka’s own nervousness.

Duval quietly claimed a seat, but Ericka stood by the window that looked over the central complex of the building. In the moments after they shuffled into place, Ericka studied the scientists and engineers down below, watching them move from post to post in the midst of their work day. She did this often, always particularly pleased to be seeing everything in its place and in the proper motions.

It took a sigh from both women before Ericka finally turned and began the meeting proper. “Ophelia… The thing I’m supposed to do here, is fire you.”

The atmosphere had been decided: straight to the point. Duval expected as much, “I-I understand, Ericka… That would be following protocol…”

“It would be,” Ericka exhaled, already twisting back to the window. She contemplated for a moment. “I have to ask, you know. Why?”

Duval sat on the one-word question as though it were the tip of an iceberg, begging her to glide down its slope. She could have played dumb, but it would not have distracted Ericka for long. “Th-They agreed to it,” Duval timidly answered, “t-to being taken, I mean.”

“That doesn’t change anything, Duval,” Ericka replied. She scoffed, “It doesn’t even answer my question. Can’t you tell me why you took someone? What was worth that risk?”

“Ericka… I-- Well, they--”

“And I don’t just mean the risk of your job,” Ericka interjected, looking at Duval through her faint reflection in the glass. “You put this person’s life in danger. One of your own subjects -- so much could have happened!”

“Ericka--”

“You know this, Ophelia -- I know you know this.”

Duval winced, but mentally, she was in a tantrum. In her perspective, she was far more aware of the dangers than anyone else. She had experienced that risk firsthand, on multiple occasions, and she knew the peril Sierra was put into. Since having spent time with Sierra over the course of the project, never before had Duval thought so keenly about her motions and actions, the incredible weight she carried above much tinier people. To be told off like an unruly student in school had her gripping her slacks out of frustration.

But the conversation continued, none of Duval’s emotions making it into her tone. “An… anonymous volunteer... agreed to be my personal subject… for research that I’ve been conducting on my own.”

Ericka turned back to face Duval, lured in by such an interesting point. She leaned against the back of her office chair, “What kind of research is this?”

“Tangent to our own,” Duval confirmed quickly. “B-But nothing that puts them in danger! I-I would never… It’s all just been data collection a-and interviews, nothing that could even affect the project here!” Ericka seemed absorbed into her thoughts, allowing Duval to add, “I-I wanted to bring something exciting to the team, something of my own.”

Ericka bit her lip sympathetically. “This… This really isn’t the way to make a statement in the company, Ophelia…” She pinched the arc of her nose and leaned more weight on the chair’s back. Duval felt that pressure on her own spine, enough to put a drop of sweat on her brow. “If this volunteer ended up hurt because of this independent research, just… Do you realize the disaster that’d be? The PR mayhem that’d cause?”

Duval shuddered. “I’m aware…”

“No,” Ericka scoffed, turning her gaze off of Duval. “You barely know half of it…”

“E-Excuse me…?”

Ericka shook her head. “N-Not now.” She pushed off the chair and paced towards another corner of the room. The bookshelf her eyes glazed over offered no consolation for the decision she was having to make. “Shoote Labs needs only the best and brightest working on this project currently. We need all engines working efficiently as we get closer to a true launch of what we’ve been working on. Incidents like these… have made my trust waver in you, Ophelia.”

Duval felt a sting in her heart, her fingers numb as if chasing something out of their reach. “Ericka, please--”

“That’s why I need you on the team, and to stay focused.” Ericka faced Duval with her arms crossed, her seriousness looming from her corner of the office. Duval replayed the words in her head, only loosely recognizing that not all was lost -- she was being kept. “There’s only so many eyes and ears we can have involved in this project, and only so many of those have written a peer-reviewed thesis on molecular rearrangement. We can’t-- Shoote can’t afford to lose you, and I don’t want to terminate a friend.”

Duval was still; she was in the headlights still, a deer frozen in front of a fate that was seemingly passing by. A scare, a frightening scare at that, but still only a miss. She stuttered, “Th-Thank you-- Ericka, seriously, y-you’re unbelievable--”

Ericka stopped her there, and put a hand before Duval to stop her from lifting out of her chair. “I’m not firing you,” she specified, and her glare narrowed, “but you’re not leaving my sights. I can’t let something else happen like this, not without one or both of us getting nixed.”

“Wh-What, then? What do you want me to do?”

“I just need you to continue working,” Ericka explained, drifting back to her desk in order to retrieve something -- a small black box. “This is a measure I’ll have to take, to make sure your authority as an overseer is practiced properly.”

“Oh, I love what you did with your hair~” Kendall could not resist brushing a finger through a lock of hair that hung off Sierra’s shoulder. The threads spilled right over the digit, so clean and brightened. “It’s so pretty! You should style it more often, Sierra!”

“Hm, do you think so…?” Sierra awkwardly shielded her bashful smile, but she did not mind having her hair toyed with. After all, she did spend the time deep washing it and straightening it, and so having it be noticed was especially affirming. She wanted the change to be as noticeable as possible, considering it would have to catch the eye of one gigantic overseer. “I-It’s not too much, is it?” Sierra asked, lifting some threads of her own into her vision.

“No~ I’m loving it!” Kendall laughed, continuing a step ahead of Sierra. They were headed to the transport station, as well as the other citizens of the terrarium, all prepared to be reviewed for their semi-annual evaluations. “Let me guess: you’re excited to see the overseer, huh?”

Sierra turned cold, but she would not show a single shiver of hesitation. Her lips coiled quickly into a smile, “I-I guess!” It was truly the best route for an excuse -- for whom else would she have styled her hair for? “It’s been awhile, after all,” she went on, her voice a little more subdued. “And that showcase, I think, sort of gave me a new perspective on… this. All this.”

“I might know what you mean,” Kendall replied. Her arms stretched high above her head as they approached the line forming at the station. “It’s nice to be noticed when we’re this small, right?”

“... Right,” Sierra weakly agreed.

“It feels a little too easy,” Kendall chuckled, “that we could just end up forgotten about, or overlooked. Scary stuff, but hey, that’s why we have-- ah, feel that?”

Sierra swallowed, indeed feeling that. Sooner than the others, she sensed the rumbling of footsteps, followed by the distant clacking of heels against the floor. It was routine at this point, but today, Sierra’s heart fluttered more than usual -- her next breath was exhaled shakily as Duval turned the corner, dressed in her clean lab coat and equipped with a tablet for work. It had been several days, and so Sierra felt relieved to be reunited once again with the woman she adored.

Yet, something had felt incorrect to Sierra as she continued to feel the light tremors of footsteps. She hunched that Duval was not coming alone, and she was unfortunately proven right when, just behind the overseer, another woman entered the terrarium chamber. Following Duval up to her side was Ericka, a project supervisor that the shrunken subjects rarely met.

Her presence earned a few questioning glances from the community, but no one was as alerted by Ericka than Sierra. She blinked in attempts to disperse this additional person; Is this really necessary? she wondered. Whatever she has to say, couldn’t Duval just say it?

The two women towered over the terrarium as they stopped a few steps in front of it. Ericka was poised upright with a cheery grin, her hands clasped together at her waist. Duval, however, was motivated only enough to offer a half-smile, her shoulders slumped until Ericka glanced at her. Sierra allowed none of this to fly over her; she was keenly attuned to Duval, and sensed that something was amiss.

“Good morning, everyone! You all look so healthy and lively,” Ericka began, her voice kept subdued similarly to Duval’s controlled volume. “You might remember me as Ericka Einhorn. Duval must be keeping good care of you all. She only ever has positive news to report! The progress you all have made together is astounding, and that showcase only proved it.”

Ericka motioned to the train car that everyone had been boarding. “Go ahead, continue filling in!” she urged. “Everything is still going according to schedule, but I’m here to quickly announce a few adjustments we’re making to some of our routine procedures. These are mostly increases to your security, but none of you should be expected to do anything too differently -- it’s largely all on the end of the overseers.”

Sierra was stalled by what had been explained thus far, but everyone else was continuing into the transport car. Kendall waited for her a few paces ahead, a silent gesture to get Sierra to move along with the others. Still, her gaze was hooked on Ericka, up until she was seated and buckled in. Placing herself in that seat reminded Sierra of that first time she was allowed outside the terrarium, and furthermore, that first time she was able to be alone with Duval. There was a magic to that day, even for how chaotic and absurd it became -- it was an important stepping stone in Sierra’s future, and so it was a fond memory to latch onto.

But that uncanny sensation of something different kept haunting her, and she soon understood why. Ericka continued, “One such change in procedure is that we will be broadly limiting the methods with which overseers interact with you all. We want to avoid unfortunate happenstances as much as possible, and incidents are prone to happen when subjects are being handled by the overseer directly. From now on, we’ll be using mechanical, safer methods of transporting you from location to location whenever possible.”

Sierra was confused, far more than anyone else in the train car. While she nervously tugged at her seat buckle, Kendall nodded optimistically; “No more shaky rides in Duval’s hand?” she stated with a smile. “I can live with that.”

The replacement method of transportation was wheeled in by Ericka, but it remained out of sight to those in the train car. It was a mobile table of sorts that could be pushed around the labs like a cart, but rather than just a flat top, there was a smaller terrarium to keep the intended shrunken subjects safe from harm. A small door was opened in one glass wall, which was then pushed into a similar door to the tiny terminal station. From there, it required only a press of a button for a conveyor device to push the train car up the rails and into this new chamber -- no human contact required.

Sierra stared outside her window longingly while the transfer happened. From her angle, she could not see either of the two scientists, yet she yearned to know what Duval must have been feeling. She wished terribly to ask her upfront what this was about, but their relationship could not allow such a thing. As the mobile table began to move, Sierra decided to hold her tongue until later; at the very least, it was still Duval herself to be pushing the cart forward, and that was thus far enough to tide Sierra over.

Ericka, however, had more to discuss along the way, and every point she brought forward was like a piercing nail to Sierra. “The safety of our subjects is, of course, our top priority,” the supervisor affirmed. “Now that you’ve become more adapted to being with normal-sized humans, we’re going to be pulling the involvement of overseers back to keep those risk factors limited. Tests from now on will keep the overseer at a distance, and there will be stricter policies in how an overseer can interact directly with a subject.”

It all made logical sense, and the rest of the community silently agreed to what was explained. It was only Sierra who broiled under these changes, sweating bullets as she thought of what this meant for her and Duval. I need to talk to her, she told herself. Something feels off, and Duval knows it, too.

The community was rolled over to a lab where they were connected to a similar terminal as before. Within that station, the subjects were dressed out into their noticeable orange jumpsuits, and were then queued in line in front of an individual transport pod. One at at time, they would load into the pod, be taken to a separate work table, and then returned to be swapped out for the next in line -- a slower procedure than usual, but doubtlessly safer than being moved in a human hand without any protection.

What exactly they had been taken to be tested for was their bi-annual vitals check-up. Six months prior, all of the subjects underwent a similar procedure shortly after being awoken in their newly shrunken forms. Back then, the entire process was done by the volunteers themselves, as normal-sized contact was not yet ready to be established. Today, they would be guided by Duval, who would also be marking her own observations of the subjects as they followed along with the routine.

Sierra’s anxiety festered as the queue progressed, reserving her thoughts to herself until she could have her opportunity to be with Duval. She shuddered at the front of the line until the quaking footsteps returned to warm her. Duval rejoined them at the station, lowered the transport pod, and allowed the person inside to step out. Sierra grinned excitedly, and stepped up to the pod as soon as she could--

“Ah-- please, step back until instructed,” Duval interjected with a cold tone. Like a wall, her voice put a block to Sierra’s movement, stopping her outside the pod. “You will be told when to enter.”

Sierra stuttered as badly as she shivered, fretting back from the pod like she had been told. “S-S-Sorry, I-I--” she struggled to speak, blindsided by such a reaction. The little bubble of excitement she had conjured had been popped preemptively, leaving her stunned and disconnected. She stood completely still, awkwardly so in front of the line of subjects behind her, until Duval spoke again after a short interval.

“You may now enter the pod,” Duval said after finishing writing a note. “If you need assistance, wave to me.”

Sierra hesitated only for a moment before following the order to enter. She climbed aboard and strapped herself in, very familiar at this point with how to do so -- it was somewhat insulting to be suggested she could use assistance, but it also struck a more intricate chord in Sierra. This being so unlike Duval, it felt obvious that this was a peculiar way for her to act; indeed, she was acting this way for someone else’s benefit, and that someone could only be Ericka.

After Sierra was settled into the pod, Duval closed the device’s door and lifted it up with an especially tender grasp. The warmth from her hands filled the pod, bathing Sierra with that essence, and further teasing her for that which she yearned for. She hoped that in time this barrier between them could be removed, and that she could sit in Duval’s palm and appreciate that feeling of weightlessness again. It was easy for these daydreams to distract Sierra, but when she looked to Duval, she saw only a serious expression that was only ever aimed straight ahead.

Fortunately for Sierra, the vitals check-up was to be performed one room away. It was a small window without much leeway, but it was a precious opportunity to be away from Ericka -- perhaps the only chance they would get. Sierra planned on what to say as she exited the pod and walked out onto a square-shaped plate, awaiting Duval’s directions.

There was a pause while Duval prepared the station in silence, her eyes never adrift and her expression never cracking. Once ready, she stood a foot away from the counter with a steady posture. “We will begin with a full-body scan,” she said. “This machine will scan you once, and then you will turn and be scanned a second time. Is that understood?”

Sierra swallowed, deciding to act plainly. “I understand.” With her arms stretched out to either side, a scanner swept down the platform she stood upon, then rose again with the same speed. As instructed, Sierra pivoted and allowed Duval to scan a second time, but not without comment: “I-It doesn’t feel like it’s been so long,” she said, “since we did this at the beginning. It’s hard to believe, b-but it’s been six months, hasn’t it?”

Duval’s stare would not cross Sierra, instead retaining focus on numbers that appeared on a monitor. Consequently, she withheld any reply to what Sierra had said, not even a nod of acknowledgement.

But Sierra pressed on as she stepped off the platform and onto the desk. “I remember being terrified of everything I touched… Back then, i-it didn’t quite feel like we had shrunk, but somehow, it feels better now to know just how small I am.” The spirit in her voice was dwindling as she rambled on, unrewarded with a response from Duval. Bitten with frustration, Sierra spoke more boldly, “I-I appreciate you being here, Duval! A-All of us do…”

Another pause was prolonged as Duval occupied her stare into that same monitor, before finally turning back towards Sierra -- the first time their eyes had met. “Thank you,” the overseer said calmly. “We can continue with the procedure. Follow me.”

Duval motioned for Sierra towards an area where she could sit in a specialized chair that would monitor her breathing and heart rate. Both of Sierra’s arms were inserted into pressurized slots, a clamp was pressed to either side of her neck, and finally a mask was equipped over her mouth for her to breathe into. As coldly as these instructions were given was how Sierra followed along, silently obeying Duval and moving forward with the procedure quickly. A long silence persisted while a mechanical hum activated, but after a minute, her arms and neck were released, finishing the procedure.

“That completes today’s assignment,” Duval declared, her face hidden above Sierra behind her tablet. “You may now return to the transport pod. Thank you.”

“Th-That’s it?” Sierra muttered, her voice further dampened by the mask over her mouth. She was slow to start moving, removing one arm at a time from the depressurized slots, but her head was racing with worries, realizing how brief this moment with Duval was to last. She had thought there would be more to do, but she knew now that had just been a hope.

In a bid to have additional time with Duval, Sierra came up with an excuse. “Duval, uh,” she spoke up with a wave of her arm, “I think my mask is stuck, actually. I-It won’t come off.” She fiddled with the mask in a vague way, taking advantage of how her tiny size was hard to decipher. The mask could easily be moved aside if she wanted, but for the sake of some interaction, she pretended that it would not budge.

Duval was hesitant to respond -- for a moment, Sierra wondered if she would help out at all. After that pause, Duval’s hand jittered into view, “Do you… need help, Sierra?” Her eyes, for just a flicker, darted to the side where the door was; Sierra was sure to notice this. “Well… let me see what the problem is, then.”

A finger extended out and drew near to Sierra’s face, careful to not move unexpectedly while at the same time trying to be quick. Duval bit her lip in focus as she worked her nail gently between the mask and Sierra herself, and with no effort at all, the mask was popped off -- as simple as it should have been.

But while Duval’s digit was there, just after undoing the mask, Sierra suddenly leaned forward. A strong kiss, with all of Sierra’s weight, was planted onto the fingertip, and she reached out to stroke the nail as an additional push of affection. Sierra burned like a fire after acting so spontaneous, but for that instant, she felt as light and free as a cloud, appropriately hovering out of the chair with a brimming smile.

Duval, however, was quick to curl her finger away. She tore it out of Sierra’s grip and kept her fist high and away from her, even turning her body as though someone so small could still reach her. Sierra was dumbfounded, paralyzed after having risen out of the chair so confidently, only to discover another long spell of silence. She stared deep into Duval’s perplexed expression, but Duval’s eyes only glimpsed over her with as much uncertainty as the words she was struggling to form.

“S-Sierra, pl-please…” Duval began in a hiss-like whisper, but an inhale interrupted her thought. She reformatted, leaving Sierra in suspense as she thought up her reply. “... You may now return to the transport pod. The others are waiting to continue.”

“Duval…” Sierra’s hands curled into her chest while her legs weakly followed the command, slumping ahead with every step. Instinctively, she wanted to move along, even if it meant being brushed aside so callously, but her emotions spiraled and sparked recklessly, encouraging her to vocalize those feelings. “It’s been several days since we last saw each other,” she argued, coming to a standstill towards the transport pod. She could not move any more than that, barely able to turn her neck up towards the giant woman. “A-Aren’t you… happy to see me?”

Duval withheld the first words she had to say. She swallowed them, and just like before, restarted her train of thought. “... Of course I’m happy,” she answered in a low volume. It was the first thus far that Sierra had heard a genuine tone in her voice, off from that robotic personality. But then, in a hard blink, it returned; “I’m happy to see everyone. It’s good to be back at work. Now, can you enter the transport pod? The others are--”

“I don’t care about them,” Sierra scoffed, “th-they can wait! Err, c-can’t we talk a little? J-Just you… and me…?”

“Sierra, no…” Duval winced, then pressed a thumb against her temple in distress. She breathed and asserted her tone again, “Should I bring Einhorn in to have a discussion?”

“Ericka? N-No, don’t…” Sierra shuddered as though threatened -- she felt much that way, but was impacted more by how Duval relied on it. It was like a tool specifically to disarm Sierra and to dismiss the conversation, a period to end their time together. “... I’m sorry. I-I’ll just get in.”

Maybe we can talk later? Sierra prayed that one of them would say that, but after getting strapped into the pod and being carried back to the other subjects, she was left devoid of that hope. The next in line took her place, taken into the same routine as all the others. As Sierra watched on and continued with the check-up, an emptiness within her expanded, an ailment that was only ever eased by the sheer confusion of the situation.

Sierra was in a shell for the duration of the procedure. Kendall took notice almost immediately, but no questions or concerns could pry Sierra into opening up about what weighed so heavily on her mind. Even her own introspection was at odds with the issue, every thought gray and bleak with what it left Sierra to conclude. The artificial daylight of the terrarium did nothing to brighten her spirits as she found herself marching mindlessly back to her home, unsure if she had said a word to anyone about anything along the way.

She was in her bedroom after a blink -- she had no recollection of moving herself there, left to sit on the corner of her mattress surrounded in dimness. A glance at her pillows and sheets sharply reminded her of how positively she glowed that morning. Today was supposed to be a magical reunion, the first of many days they could steal away for themselves, like how often they had before; under the watchful eyes of the labs, they were supposed to be a secret couple, the risks of which intended to excite their relationship into an adventure all of their own. Looking back, Sierra chided herself for dreaming so wistfully about that future, but nonetheless was her heart damaged by Duval’s distant attitude that day -- she was a different woman than the goddess she vowed her love to those few nights ago.

That evening at the hotel was a prized memory, but Sierra reflected on it now ridden with guilt and anxiety. It felt unreal then, just as it had felt like complete fantasy in that moment. Badly did her skin crawl as she thought warmly of being in Duval’s grasp and exploring her divine body. Her arms wrapped over her stomach as she felt a turning inside her, simultaneous with how her perspective of that night was shifting.

I was delusional the entire time, Sierra told herself. It was never a precious moment. She was drunk-- we both were. Excited, and confused, and… feisty. But it was just a game, wasn’t it?

Sierra shivered into the bed, laying atop the comforter as she huddled into herself for warmth. Was everything so disingenuous as she imagined them to be? Was Duval merely an opportunist, taking up on this chance to have a willing tiny woman all to herself? It was agonizingly easy to believe to be the case, that their night together was a drunken fling meant only to be remembered foggily. What they did was wrong, she admitted both now and then -- but Sierra was serious about what she wanted, how she longed to have that night be her entire life, and she remembered Duval speaking so truly about promises for the future. Had alcohol disguised the reality of their relationship, or was it the catalyst of what Sierra had dreamed for them?

There was, as well, a worse possibility. It plagued the recesses of Sierra’s mind, cast aside but not ignored, growing more and more significant as she dismissed other lines of thought. Such a possibility was a grim conclusion, but a substantial one to consider. Alcohol and circumstances be damned; What if Duval just… just doesn’t love me anymore? She bit her lip, choking back what would have been an unnerving whine. What if she regrets what we did? What if she’s trying to move past it?

“God, no,” Sierra muttered, sweeping a hand across her brow. “No, no. God…” She spat into a laugh, because it was funny -- “If she didn’t love me… I’d just be here then. I’d be here, with nothing. Here… shrunken.” She giggled while massaging her neck, “Th-That isn’t right. I’m not tiny and alone. I can’t be… I can’t end up stuck like this…”

That amusement paled into a disturbing silence, where even Sierra’s inner thoughts were stalled. A dead gaze went across her bed and to the wall as blank as her expression.

After a long dwelling, Sierra pushed herself messily up from the bed. She grabbed at facts to support herself; even if her relationship were to be ruined with Duval, even if she were alone in this tiny glass-sealed world in a lab, there was always time. She could heal, but most importantly, she would return to normal -- all the subjects. In a matter of years, bitter or otherwise, the project would reach its end, and Sierra could return to her ordinary height. She would get paid, she would grovel back to her family, and she would live on.

There was hardly solace in that realization, but it affirmed her when nothing else could. She still thought long about how Duval acted, and how there felt like an unseen pressure pushed onto the overseer. Ultimately, she both believed and wished that she was wrong about everything. Duval loved her, and she loved Duval. She wanted it to be so simple, or for things to go back to how they were, somehow in a natural way.

The introspection was interrupted by a whine Sierra could not control. She had gone the whole day without eating, but despite what her body craved, she had no will to feed herself. Her thoughts were too full for her to realize, her appetite browbeaten by worry and anxiety. The aching felt good, like a justification, at least so Sierra was able to convince herself.

A new message awaited Duval when she first logged into her office computer. Atop a long list of lab-wide announcements and discussions was an email, sent by one of her own subjects within the terrarium. Immediately did it kick Duval awake with curiosity -- contact such as this was reserved for important notices, anything short of an emergency that could not wait until later.

“Kendall, hm?” Duval said the sender’s name aloud, finding a distant relief in knowing who it was from -- or rather, who it was not from. It had been sent earlier after midnight, a peculiar time for Duval to be needed. She opened the message and read what little was written:

“Hi Overseer Duval! I think Im sending this message correctly but i think its important. Lately ive noticed that my neighbor Sierra has been acting oddly. She looks and sounds sick! I tried getting her to talk to you herself but shes being more stubborn than usual! I hope shes okay. Can you check up on her asap??? I think shes trying to not cause trouble for anyone :( “

A stiffer expression scanned the email a second time, leading Duval to the same concern. It weighed heavy on her heart to worry over Sierra’s well-being, but compounding that was her anxiety of how to proceed. Any emails sent by subjects were also forwarded to the supervisors, denying Duval the chance to take Sierra aside privately. It seemed there were no other solutions, regardless of how she racked her brain for another answer; all she could do was follow protocol and work with the permissions Ericka allowed her.

Duval marched hurriedly through the halls, absorbed into her thoughts. It had been three days since she took Sierra’s vitals, and even back then did she suspect her beloved subject might attempt something. She felt Sierra’s yearning to be with her, but did she crave Duval enough to attempt faking an illness? It was an uncomfortable idea to assume, but so too was it to hope that Sierra was genuinely unwell.

Preparing a serious and stone-like persona coming up to the terrarium room, Duval was first met with Ericka, stationed outside the door expectantly. “Good morning, Ophelia~” the supervisor greeted her. “I suppose you saw the message from, err, Kendal, was it?”

“Kendall, yes,” Duval replied. “I-I appreciate you coming down here to help, but I should be able to handle this. It’s a straightforward procedure, so I--”

“Indeed, very straightforward,” Ericka emphasized. “So I’ll just be right behind you if you need me, ma’am. Lead the way!”

Duval blinked, but there was no breaking from Ericka’s watch. She proceeded inside, fixing her lab coat and applying new gloves as she approached the tabled community. Though she made her footfalls subdued as usual, her entrance still caught heads to turn towards her from within the terrarium. A number of people were already active in the morning, making for an audience Duval would have to speak in front of.

With all eyes on her, including Ericka’s, Duval spoke to her subjects. “Good morning, everyone. It has come to our attention that one among you is... in need of medical attention. As a precaution, I will be escorting the individual to a medbay station. Err… Sierra, could you please step outside?”

Her words stirred not Sierra, but her neighbor to step outside and inspect the situation. Kendall was clearly concerned, looking back between the overseer and Sierra’s home. When there was not an immediate answer, Kendall dashed around their fence and up to Sierra’s door, gesturing to Duval that she would help.

“Sierra? Duval is here-- oh…” By the time Kendall knocked on the door, it had just been opened on the other side. She leaned towards the slither-sized opening, peeking in to find Sierra hanging back in the darkness of her house. Kendall pushed forward an optimistic grin, “Hey~ Are you feeling okay?”

“A-Am I feeling…?” Sierra muttered it back, her glare flickering between different expressions of disdain. “Wh-What is this about…? Kendall, wh-why are they…?”

Kendall winced, still bearing her positive smile. “I-I had to say something,” she explained, “after our talk last night… D-Duval will help you, I bet! She’ll at least make sure you’re not sick--”

“I know I’m not sick, Kendall…!” Sierra whined, but she neither the will nor convenience to argue. She felt the vibration of Duval and Ericka peering overhead, a pressure that pulled her out of the door -- how could she ignore being summoned by two giants? She stepped outside, deciding to display her weary state of being to all those watching. Revealed by the sun-like lamp was a complexion much paler than usual, a hunch in her posture that also affected her gait. She stared up in a squint, her balance only maintained by supporting herself on her porch and eventually a helping hand offered by Kendall.

“S-See? Something isn’t right,” Kendall said, putting an arm around Sierra and urging her down the steps. “C’mon, let’s get you out…”

Sierra was pulled forward, feeling as though she were being dragged to her execution. All of the attention cast onto her by those nearby amplified the very fatigue she was called out for. She shuddered in front of Duval, only able to glance up at the cold expression pointed down at her. It was impossible to tell yet if this was another part of their ongoing curse, or if this was a blessing in disguise, an opportunity for her to be alone with Duval -- similar to that time months ago when she staged breaking her wrist.

But in this circumstance, this was no act; Sierra’s weariness was real, and Duval was cut by what she witnessed. Badly did the overseer want to reach down and lift the little woman into a tender grasp, to cradle her into comfort and provide her with everything she wanted. An apology stammered at her lips, but Ericka’s presence petrified her into the expected rhythm of lab protocol.

“Please, uhm, c-continue into this transport pod,” Duval directed, fetching one from her pocket. She shakily placed it down into the terrarium, right outside Sierra’s lawn. Whether or not this ailment was genuine, Duval found the future ahead to be uncertain and disorienting -- how would Sierra act once they were seemingly alone?

Sierra was strangled by those very same thoughts, silently strapping herself into the pod with Kendall’s assistance. She could not believe it was happening, that Duval was taking her away because of Kendall’s concern, but she could only hope this time with the overseer could be as magical as it once was. It could very well be her only opportunity to be able to speak with Duval personally, and to bring resolution to the vagueness of their relationship.

The transport pod was lowered into a small chamber through an open ceiling -- from outside and above, Sierra only saw glimpses of where she was to be deposited. It resembled the medical station she used once before, but the inside of where she was placed was not as familiar. The pod fitted perfectly into a round divet in the ground, allowing her exit into this garage to be flatter than usual. When Sierra stepped outside, she felt the chill of air conditioning, an indication of how tightly controlled her surroundings were.

A wide, wall-high window stretched around this drop-off station. Sierra saw past the blue tint and out to where Duval and Ericka stood, their torsos side-by-side as they towered next to what was likely a counter that the medbay was on. Not yet instructed where to go or what to do, Sierra shivered by her lonesome; the sight of two giants looming outside a strange, caged environment reminded her distinctly of being surrounded by titanic crowds back at the showcase.

Duval and Ericka exchanged whispered words above the medbay. After flipping to something on her tablet, Duval looked at Sierra through the open ceiling. “Continue through that door on your left,” she explained, “and take a seat on one of the beds.”

“D-Duval?” Sierra spoke up, unsure if she should shout through the glass or up through the ceiling. “Wh-What is this place? I don’t recognize it, I don’t think…” Nonetheless, she opened the door and entered what appeared to be a hospital bedroom. There were two simple beds separated by curtains, a pair of basic chairs around a small table, and a few ordinary appliances for day-to-day living. Tepidly, she still sat herself at the end of one bed, staring outside this room’s wall-high window.

“This is an upgraded medbay station,” Duval answered. “It’s been reserved for critical situations, but… we’re using it now in response to nearly all medical situations, when possible.”

Sierra quietly repeated that word; “critical.” Her fingers played with one another nervously. “Duval, I-I’m… am I going to be okay?”

“Oh, dear…” Duval bit her lip and knelt closer to the medbay, enough that her sympathetic expression filled the window. “I-It’s going to be okay, Sierra. I’ll--” She stopped when Ericka pulled lightly on her shoulder, gesturing for her to rise up to full height. As if being stolen away by Ericka, Sierra watched as Duval’s face lifted back out of view. “Er… We’re going to do some scans, and ask a few questions regarding your health and behavior. Please… lay flat on your back, and be as still as you can for a minute.”

As usual, Sierra obeyed, stretching her weak body out on the mattress. A machine hanging above her buzzed with activity as it began its scan. While it did so, Sierra’s worry festered over Ericka’s involvement. With her being there, she and Duval would never have a moment alone together, prompting her to boldly ask, “Does… Einhorn need to be here? Or, is this part of some research…?”

“Oh, mm…” Duval thought to ask Ericka herself, but she imagined another cool hand pulling her shoulder. “Einhorn is just here to… well…” She stopped; what was Ericka here for? Duval knew well that she was here to monitor the process, but how could she explain that to Sierra?

Fortunately, Ericka had her own answer. “Am I too much?” she half-jokingly asked, a hand over her chest in amusement. “I don’t mean to stress anyone out by being here. Duval, you won’t need me for anything, will you?”

“I-I… No, I don’t believe so.” Duval’s fingers curled tight on the tablet.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Ericka decided, stepping backwards from the counter. Sierra watched in stillness, surprised at how easily the supervisor would give in like this, until she heard her continue: “I’ll review everything later this afternoon. Stay positive, Sierra! Duval will make sure you’re feeling better than ever.”

Ericka then left the room, but her aura lingered after what she had stated. Sierra was not alone in feeling this way, as Duval shuddered after the door closed and she turned back to the medbay. The imminent awkward silence was luckily relieved by a ping. “Ah, th-the results…” Duval stammered, as if beeped back into reality. “Y-You can rise now, Sierra. You can change into a medbay gown, i-if you’d prefer.”

Sierra remained quiet, unsure yet if now was her chance to speak to Duval openly -- since Duval continued to act so steely, she assumed it was not. She followed along, grabbing a gown off from a shelf and unfolding it in front of herself. A glance past it saw Duval’s torso again outside the window, but Sierra wished to be watched, wanting that attention while she changed. Slowly, she undid her jacket and continued to the rest of her clothes, biding every second she could.

“Does that report… say anything?” Sierra inquired, not wanting to live in silence all this time. “I-I dunno what could have happened to make me feel this way…”

Duval reviewed the report from her tablet. “There’s… notable weight loss,” she began, finding that to be the most pressing detail. “Signs of dehydration, as well… Have you been eating less?”

Sierra was grateful that her flinch went unseen. Having her shirt halfway over her head, she lied, “I’ve been eating like normal, p-pretty much.” Her pants slid down her legs, leaving her exposed in just her underwear -- yet Duval still would not look, no matter how badly Sierra silently wished she would. “I’ve felt really low energy these last few-- well… this last week, really. Since the showcase…”

Duval bit her lip while a finger stalled at a point on her screen. That hint did not go undetected by her -- Sierra was still attached to that night. She closed her eyes and tried to sort her emotions, but ultimately, she lacked the words to speak to Sierra. In truth, she lacked the ability to speak, shackled by workplace restraints.

“... There should be a computer you can use between the beds,” Duval continued. “We will have to run some extensive tests. Your condition is… somewhat serious. There will be--”

“Duval…! I-I’m…” Sierra hugged the unworn gown against her chest and leaned against the window. Her hand pressed into the glass in a vain stretch towards Duval. “... Can’t we talk?”

“There will be time for discussion later, Sierra,” Duval replied plainly. “If it does not relate to your condition, then please… please refrain from d-distracting me, or anyone that might be helping you.”

“Am I distracting you?” Sierra was appalled, her hand slipping down the pane.

“N-No, you’re not, but…” Duval stepped aside and sighed away from the medbay. She pivoted completely, burning with uncertainty. “But for now, I… need you to cooperate. It’s… for your safety, Sierra. Try to understand.”

Sierra trembled, arguments in her head unwilling to be voiced. Her forehead dropped against the window, and when pushed off from it, she looked again up to Duval. It was so little, almost meaningless, but she had at least earned Duval’s face, the overseer having leaned down slightly to her level.

“I-I’m nervous, Duval,” Sierra whimpered. Her hand tapped the window in a little rhythm, pressed harder against it than before. Her eyes spoke volumes with how much want there was in their shine.

Duval took notice of what Sierra was trying to signal. She lifted her own finger, opposite of Sierra’s hand, and-- it curled back down, and Duval craned up to her full height. Sierra only wanted to feel her touch through the window, but even that was denied to her. Wordlessly, Duval shifted over to a computer, leaving Sierra at the medbay -- an unbearable distance between them, only arms length away, yet separated far from one another.

The medbay was a lonely place to be left for an entire night. It was perfectly safe and suitable for someone her size, but inside it, Sierra was isolated -- abandoned. When the day was over, Duval had to leave like any other scientist, but her being gone was little different than her being there. So limited was their time together that it felt relieving for the overseer to be absent, for at least then, Sierra did not need to toil so close to her lover.

It was especially dark when Sierra finally found motivation to move up from the simple bed. She had been told to rest and certainly acted the part, but her head was far too occupied with buzzing thoughts to be genuinely rested. Did Duval still love her, or did she regret that night at the hotel? Were these obstacles Ericka’s doing, or was Duval hiding behind them?

These worries racked at Sierra’s brain even as she paced around the room, the few dimmed lights of which made any of the space visible. She explored the medbay as much as there was to, but the wide window of her room naturally drew her to the view of outside. Of course, even this was themed towards Duval; she remembered her size above the medbay, how this entire building could be swaddled up into her arms, and how Sierra wished she would have done anything like that with the time they had. She longed all day for Duval to rebel just like before, but that spirit was not there like it had been leading up to the showcase.

Things were different -- Duval was different. From Sierra’s perspective, it was too unlike her. Certainly, she assumed, even Duval in her precarious position as an overseer could afford some chance to speak honestly with her. Sierra scoffed when she thought how simple it would be to pull her aside and be blunt about matters; Just pocket me for a moment and take me somewhere private, she envisioned, a warm thought despite how frosty her attitude was. Whatever is happening, can’t I know? Isn’t it better if I know?

Sierra crossed her arms and put her back against the cold glass. She bit her thumb, delved into a new line of thinking: What if Duval can’t tell me…? She had yet to consider that possibility, that Duval was just unable to speak honestly to her. Something could be blocking her from having that moment together, and that something could be anything, or anyone. Of course, it was likely Ericka’s constant shouldering that got in the way, but what of the times she was absent? Was she still watching then? Is she watching now?

There were no cameras in the medbay, none that she happened to find at least, but she was sure there were cameras elsewhere in the larger room outside. If surveillance had been strengthened around the labs, then perhaps Duval was having difficulty getting to be alone with Sierra. It could be worse than that -- and that was probably the case. Sierra only then realized how straight and tight all of Duval’s movements were, as if she were burdened by something. Ericka’s insistence was peculiar, as well; more than just Shoote Labs upping its security, it was true that Duval herself had been planted with her own personal camera with which to study her from.

-- and that was probably the case. Sierra remembered then how Ericka urged Duval to stand straight and tight, as if she were burdened by something.

A camera… Sierra felt sure of this conclusion, as much of a theory as it still was. In Duval’s chest pocket had been something new, but at the time, Sierra thought little of it. Only now did it strike her that it was likely a body cam, fitted to her lab coat so that the supervisors could inspect every interaction she had with her subjects. If she were being tailed that intensely, then naturally Duval would have no chance to speak privately with Sierra, not without revealing their relationship to Shoote.

Sierra pushed off the wall and towards her bed, wanting to believe it was her overthinking. She drank a glass of water, but the idea persisted, ushering her to conclude that Duval was trapped, perhaps more so than herself. Sierra looked around the medbay, left to regret what led her to here. If she had kept things ordinary and followed along, they could at least be enjoying a quiet and distant life with one another -- but Sierra did not want that kind of life. She wanted it all, for her life to have real meaning, and so she thought of how to undermine this surveillance. She desired a proper reunion with Duval, and she dreamed of how to get there.

“... And, you still feel unwell?” Duval bit her lip as she asked the question. “Do you feel better or worse than before?”

“B-Better, a bit,” Sierra replied, crossing her hands together nervously. “But I still feel shaky and weak… and I didn’t sleep well last night, either.”

Duval glanced behind her to where Ericka waited. The two had barely greeted each other for the day before beginning their check-up with Sierra. “You might sleep better back in your own bed,” Duval suggested, but she saw that it did little to persuade Sierra inside the medbay. Getting her back home in the community was what she wanted, more than just because it was pushed upon by Ericka. The terrarium was not only safe, but normal and mundane -- Duval wished to have that with Sierra and to be over this hump of awkwardness, but without Sierra being in a provably better condition, it could not simply be forced.

“Let her stay another day,” Ericka proposed with a wave of her hand. Her tone was faster than how it usually was. “Check her weight and pulse, schedule a big meal, and after a good sleep, she can be taken back. Does that work?”

Duval nodded. “I-If that’s what you recommend…”

“Any longer and Sierra will be taken into the next level of care,” Ericka warned. She stood up from her seat and made her way to the door, seemingly rushed. “We can’t have you sidetracked with this for days. There’s a lot that needs to be worked on. You made sure to schedule in that 4 pm meeting, right?”

“I-I have,” Duval responded after a breath of hesitation. “Er, I’ll see you then, and I’ll let you know how Sierra is doing.” Ericka was barely heard saying farewell as she turned the corner out of the room, leaving Duval to finish procedures with Sierra. It was only a matter of compiling datasets from the medbay, yet Duval’s sigh was too heavy to be only preoccupied with that much.

Sierra knew that expression, having studied and inferred that same bend in Duval’s brow for months. “Things are getting busy again, I guess?” Sierra asked through the window. “I hope I’m not getting in the way, but… it sounds like I am.”

“No, i-it’s not about you…” Duval said as she loosened her coat from off her shoulders and onto the back of her chair. She lurched over a keyboard, her head held in one hand. “The showcase got us a lot of financiers who all have different demands and priorities-- i-it all jumbles together, and the supervisors, well…”

Duval’s eyes widened, finally darting away from a screen. She looked to Sierra, then forward again. Somehow, a conversation blossomed so naturally between them, and when noticed, Duval immediately silenced herself. Though it was only a few sentences shared, Sierra cherished what little they could have, even if it was by mistake.

She’s so charming when she gets careless, Sierra wondered. As much as it pained her to have Duval so distant, at least she could still watch her. That, however, was limited as well; Ericka was forcing Sierra to be either returned to the community, or pushed up into someone else’s care. Today was her last chance to have privacy with Duval, and still did she need a way to actually secure that privacy.

Fortunately, the pieces to her puzzle were coming together. Until then, Sierra had the scheme to get out of the medbay, but nothing to follow after escaping. It was in her favor that today had already put Duval in a hectic mood, especially so when Duval finally left the room on her way to other duties. Sierra had to put herself on the mattress to contain her excitement and keep it secret, but she was over the moon to have found that Duval had left behind her lab coat, draped over the back of the office chair.

Everything had to be situated for her plan to work. First, Sierra used extra pillows and gowns to create a person-sized lump on her bed, wrapped up in blankets and sheets. It made for a convincing disguise, at least, Sierra assumed -- it would have to be passing enough at a glance so that no one knew she was missing, including Duval. None of this felt better having to be some grand lie happening under Duval’s nose, but it was necessary for getting around whatever cameras could catch them.

There were no convenient exits for the medbay, at least none that were unlocked for Sierra. Instead, she would have to be crafty and make use of the garage from where she entered. The transport pod still sat in the divet, and by climbing on top of it, Sierra could stand tall enough to see past the open ceiling hatch. From there, Sierra jumped through the opening and up to the roof, a feat of acrobatics that was more challenging than expected, but was accomplished nonetheless. It left Sierra exhausted at that point, but she could not lay tuckered out just yet. There was still a long trek to the lab coat, and then the matter of actually getting into it.

Sierra shivered in the vastness of space she had to herself. It had been quite some time since she experienced such a thrill, back when her relationship with Duval was first kindling. She remembered fondly her antics of hurting herself, receiving personalized care from Duval, and then eventually finding herself alone with her glove. That sense of adventure lived true in the moment, she admitted as much while on the long walk across the counter there, but the stakes were much higher. Appropriately so, Sierra felt tinier than usual, knowing she was sneaking about and putting herself at great risk, all so she could speak with Duval.

I think I’m going crazy, Sierra said to herself. What am I looking at here? How am I supposed to do this…? A desperate gaze stretched across the leap that was between the edge of the counter and the seat holding Duval’s coat. Sierra looked down the gap, trembling at the sheer drop to the tiled floor. From the medbay, the lab coat seemed so close, but that was an illusion; every ounce of doubt Sierra suffered seemed to extend that distance by another inch.

Sierra prepared herself with a few stretches, knowingly delaying the inevitable jump. There was no other solution, and waiting for too long risked her being found by Duval, or someone else. She developed a mantra out loud, “Think of Duval… Think of Duval…” It did little to encourage her, each run-up to the edge ended short by hesitation.

Then, the door opened, just as she reached the final step of another attempt. The clacking noise distracted her from her own doubts, and so her jump was committed to, pushed over the ledge with her arms and legs cycling in motion. She was breathless, wordless, thoughtless as she flew in the air, every fiber of her being expecting a fatal failure.

Duval entered the room, lingering at the entrance as she spoke to another overseer. “I’ll catch up,” she said with a hurried wave. When the door closed, she huffed in a fit. All day she had been called to back-and-forth, dragging her to 4 pm sooner than expected.

A few printed reports were picked up as Duval swept through to grab what she needed. In her rush, she made time to glimpse inside the medbay, “Sierra? Are you--” She stopped upon noticing the bundled up figure under the sheets, realizing her sole patient was already asleep. She stepped away with a smile, her next breath a soft sigh as she moved along without her.

Duval delayed her departure for the meeting by leaning against the back of her chair, taking a beat to center her thoughts. Ahead of her was a dreary discussion, but one that had to happen. She took her coat and whipped it over herself, taking the time to straighten her collar and brush up her hair. As it was the end of her day at the lab, she also removed the camera fitted into her coat pocket; like unshackling a prison weight, she sighed with relief. After that, Duval was out the door and marching down the hall, a folder of reports tucked under her arm.

Meanwhile, a lump in a lab coat pocket situated itself in the ever-twisting confines. Sierra was jostled in all directions as her fabric hideout rocked back and forward to the rhythm of Duval’s footsteps. Such chaotic movement made it easy to forget the earlier risk with her life; her bound from the counter to the chair had been a success, but there was no time to celebrate. After sliding down a wrinkle of white that slowed her fall, Sierra had to instantly fling herself into the one exposed pocket. She buried into it at the last possible minute, tossed to the bottom when Duval picked up and wore the coat.

In her plans, Sierra had not even imagined this segment of her adventure being so exhausting. When she had been pocketed before, it was in the safety of a transport pod, but without that protective shell, she was left to endure the bumpy ride herself, shaken and spun as every footfall slammed into the ground far below. Weak as she already was, Sierra felt sick enough to faint, but she swallowed and withstood. She was well beyond the point of turning around, and was now at the whims of a world unaware of her diminutive presence.

Eventually, Sierra became accustomed to the webb and flow of Duval’s walk from within the pocket. From where she was crouched in the deepest corner, she could see slithers of the outside world from the opening, though what images she saw were too thin to make out. She flinched under many of the shadows, afraid any one of them could be the person that points out to Duval that she had a stowaway subject hidden in her coat. It was all terrifying -- but exhilarating and heart-thumping.

And though Duval knew nothing about her there, Sierra yet found comfort in being so close to her. It was all too possible that the overseer herself could be the one to cause accidental harm to her, but Sierra believed it would not happen, that it could not happen. It was nonsense, even she agreed against herself, but that belief persisted as she lay quiet during the walk. Because there was nowhere else to go, Sierra invested everything in this risk.

I only have to wait, Sierra thought. At some point, she has to be alone. I’ll talk to her then -- even if I don’t know what I’m going to say… What is there to say? What is she even going to think when she sees me? It was not that she hadn’t thought this far ahead, but rather that the questions did not ever distract her.

Between the stress of the situation and the warmth of the pocket, Sierra was sweating out her fears. It seemed eternal to be trapped in this uncertainty, but the halls were getting quieter, the distance she had crossed surely amounting to a few relative miles of travel. Sierra pressed herself against the body-side of her placement, as if trying to hug the giant wearing the coat. Through this touch, she could embrace the tremors that rippled up Duval’s legs, pleasure taken in how she knew that she was hugging her hip. The rumbling provided another calm, but only just before a change of rhythm.

There was a sudden stop, at least so from Sierra’s perspective. She was thrown forward in the pocket after Duval had reached a door to open -- it was likely the meeting room. Curious of her surroundings, and confident she could go unseen, Sierra shakily clambered to the opening of the pocket, poking her head out from its refuge. She scanned the wide world outside, acknowledging a huge door be pushed aside by her overseer as she entered. It was a circular space with a long table in the middle and a generous amount of seats all against the walls. The murmurs of a gathering were heard before Sierra saw any of the people; various Shoote employees of different ranks, from supervisors to lab techs, had taken their seats, but only the most important figures of the labs took a seat at the center.

Duval earned a few turned heads as she rustled in, warding awkward small-talk with a polite smile and an urgency to reach a chair. She had made it just on time, exactly like she wanted to. Her seat at the table was claimed like a prize, but she was made tense again when the seat beside her was taken by no other than Ericka.

“Good afternoon, Ophelia,” Ericka greeted, sporting her usual smile. “Everything well today?”

“B-Busy,” Duval replied in a chuckle, “but, it’s nothing I can’t manage, right?”

Sierra was startled when Ericka was suddenly in her vision, her huge body witnessed taking a seat just as Duval had. The experience rocked Sierra into slipping back into the pocket, but her glare was as stubborn as ever aimed up at Ericka. She scowled at the supervisor, seeing her as nothing more than an obstacle. While she and Duval passed some friendly chatter, Sierra took solace in that she could spy on Ericka like she was. If she could, she would taunt Ericka for her being able to escape and sneak about without her realizing.

The pettier of Sierra’s priorities dwindled away as all conversation in the room came to a hush. From where she was stashed aside, Sierra could not tell what all was unfolding, only able to see a variety of different legs underneath the table. Then she heard a voice, reserved in volume and modest in tone, that of an older woman’s. Tepidly, Sierra leaked from the pocket in order to hear what was being discussed, instinctively inclined to eavesdrop while she had the chance.

Sierra was tipped back when Duval started to move, slightly straightening her posture for the sake of this speaker. It went unknown to Sierra, but Duval knew very well that it was Director Coles leading the meeting. All of Shoote Labs’ projects were managed by her, her hand involved in every department, the shrinking project included. Her long stares across the room pressed Duval to act on her best behavior, fully prepared to engage with the topics.

After a minute-long attempt of listening in on the meeting, however, Sierra found too much of the discussion to be alien to her. Scientists spoke of chemical make-ups and mathematical formulas, while the supervisors and overseers argued over schedules and procedures. Numbers and terms were spat at one another, but Sierra could make little sense of what was said. She sighed as the meeting dragged on -- waiting was proving to be more difficult than she assumed.

Rather than dwell on the broader meeting, Sierra turned her attention to Duval specifically, positioning herself again at the edge of her pocket so that she could gaze up at her lover. It was all she could to bide her time, and it did well to rejuvenate her waning energy. Whether it was a motion as simple as moving her arm to the table, or switching which leg was kicked over the other, every one of Duval’s actions carried a magnitude that thrilled Sierra. It was no night at the hotel, where she was blessed with the freedom to look up at Duval under her watch; the excitement was different, a chill that went up her back because of how discrete it was, the danger she was put in.

Minutes went by, and Sierra had only one thought to swallow on. I really am… incredibly tiny to her. It seemed silly to state that specifically after all this time, yet it occupied her head fully. She really doesn’t know I’m here. No one does. Only me…

Before slipping into a weary trance, a commotion of noise shook Sierra awake. She was jostled when Duval began to move again, urging her to dive back into the pocket just as a hand swept nearby. A few pairs of legs that Sierra could see pushed out from their positions and took leave; the meeting was coming to an end.

Sierra felt her adrenaline pick up once more, expecting to endure another long walk through the halls, but she found instead that Duval was mostly unmoving. Other than shuffling her papers and leaning on the table, Duval remained in her seat, as did several others such as Ericka. Sierra struggled to see a pattern, but after a minute, the staff present had been more than halved, cut down to only the most vital scientists and managers.

When the doors closed again and the remaining staff was to themselves, there was a notable shift in the air. Even Sierra felt it from within the coat, a silence that droned for a little too long as people rustled anxiously in their seats. The mood was stiff, but unexpectedly, it was Duval to break the quiet.

“Why are there still errors? Where’s the progress we were talking about last month?” Duval attacked; at first, Sierra thought it was someone different speaking. “All I see are the same results we’ve been having -- all year.”

“Straight to the chase, eh, Ophelia?” Ericka shakily replied. She extended an arm out to Duval’s shoulder as Sierra watched, but Duval was still to the gesture.

“I don’t understand,” Duval said. “How can we be so loose about this?”

“We’re not having this argument again,” cut in that stern voice from before; Director Coles had interjected with her own authority. “We’re this far along with revolutionary science. We know the problem, it’s simply a matter of solving it -- which will be done in time.”

“This isn’t… It can’t be considered acceptable,” Duval pushed. “This should be our top priority. The project never should have left the ground!”

“It wouldn’t have,” Coles snapped, “but we’re flying fast now, Duval, and we can’t cut the engines. Everyone goes down with this project and I’m not letting it go that way.”

“It’s going to end exactly that way if we don’t find an answer for these people!” Duval bolted up from her seat, a shift in position that had Sierra squeak in shock. “What’s going to happen when an investor finds out? What’s going to happen when the public hears about it?”

“Ophelia,” Ericka said, “we’ve taken measures to ensure--”

“How does this project end? Because the conclusion we predict isn’t at all what they expect -- what they were told!”

There was a pause, only a huff from Duval until the director spoke again. “There have been no broken promises. We still have time. The regrowth team has been able to restore up to one percent of an experiment’s size as of last month, and today’s projections are only better--”

“One percent is nothing! Ten percent -- nothing! If we cannot grow these people -- these humans! -- back to full-size, then we’ve irreparably ruined their lives!”

“Enough of this, Overseer,” Coles commanded. Such a striking tone instantly retook order, pushing Duval into a stunned quiet. “This is beyond your post. Your concern could jeopardize the entire project, and then what of the subjects? What would they do if our labs lost funding -- if we were shut down? Do you know what would be the fate for them?”

Duval shivered, but she tried to stand strong. “Then we should dedicate all efforts to--”

“That is not your call to make,” Coles decided. “You fail to see the bigger picture, Overseer. By no means is this the situation we wanted, but this is the reality our science must prosper in. These are the facts our future will be built on.”

Duval’s lips twisted with bitterness and her fingers curled against the papers on the table. This was not the first argument with the director she had waged, nor would it be the last. The progress she was hoping for was still just a faraway hope. It hardened inside her, this rocky emotion with jagged edges towards her peers. The matter at hand had her despising the very labs that employed her, but after a breath, Duval returned to wearing the mask she always did. She was an overseer, an accomplished scientist, and a likeable coworker, but only once she had exhaled.

The meeting proceeded as expected by Duval. Failed tests were reviewed like autopsies, analyzing every detail for the points of error, of which there were many to compile. Duval was critical, as was Ericka, with regards to where to experiment next -- but all the while, Duval struggled to find a purpose for it all. Her eyes fell dim as the conversation carried on, her spirit graying to the same shade as her coworkers -- her co-conspirators, all numbed to the reality they had created.

They’re trapped. That point remained impaled in Duval’s mind. They’re trapped. It was us who trapped them. And we’re trapped, too, now -- trapped with what we’ve put together. Trapped in what we wanted to learn.

“Dinner?” Ericka’s suggestion shook Duval from her downcast glare into her papers. The meeting was adjourned and casual conversation took over where the serious discussion had once persisted. Ericka was out of her seat and behind Duval, grazing her shoulder with a touch. “I know you’re hungry~ because I know you skipped lunch. Come with me, won’t you?”

“Oh, th-thank you,” Duval replied, still recovering from a daze. She began sorting her documents back into a folder, “I’ve got, uh, plans for tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

Ericka giggled and playfully shook Duval by both shoulders. “That’s a promise,” she laughed, joining the flow of the others in leaving the room. “Get plenty of rest tonight, Ophelia! Thanks for the work today!”

Duval smiled and waved, both empty gestures as she dwelled on what the meeting had covered. As the last to leave, she turned off the lights and locked the door behind her, but still did that room burden her thoughts, as though she had never left it. All down the halls and up to the main lobby, Duval kept her stare away from others, unable to look them in the eyes on her way back to the outside world.

Her sluggish departure made her the last of the cars in the company garage. Nearing her vehicle was already providing relief as she sought it like a shelter, her escape to the mundane. Everything could be left behind each night, a status quo she maintained through her years as a scientist. Even the most serious matters could be laid to rest for the time being; Duval knew it did her little good to take work home with her.

After getting into her car with a slumped motion, Duval sighed away her stresses and gripped the steering wheel for balance. A moment of contemplation, not only to sort herself out before getting on the road, but to pick out a show tune for the drive home, her go-to genre for staying sane. She started the car and was scrolling through a playlist on the console, until--

“Duval…” A whisper, or maybe just a whine. The tone was only just distinct enough to make her hesitate, enough time for her to process the voice, and to hear it again. “... Duval! Don’t start yet!” Duval blinked, but a glance out the windows showed her no one nearby -- which left the overseer with only one implication. “Duval!!”

Crawling out from her coat pocket, wedged between her body and the gear stick console, was the flailing arm of a little body. Sierra had climbed out to reveal herself, clawing at the white fabric while waving up at the mountain-sized woman. Her calls for Duval’s attention were desperate and loud, but it was only when the overseer’s eyes befell her that her tiny voice could be comprehended -- those same eyes that widened to twice their size upon realizing Sierra had been in her pocket.

“Holy--!!” Duval gasped in a burst. She frantically pushed away from the center of her car and into her door. She looked away, looked back, away again -- “No, no, no,” she muttered, her head shaking, “please, not like this--”

Duval’s shocked response was somewhat expected, but still just as eruptive for Sierra. The jump of fright had caused her to tumble out of the pocket and onto the driver seat itself, where a corner of space had been made for her where Duval had slid away from. Before even catching her balance, Sierra was already chanting up at Duval, “I’m okay, Duval! I’m okay -- look! I-It’s not bad! It’s just me!”

But these points failed to calm Duval -- they flustered her further. “No, Sierra, no! Y-You can’t!” she argued loudly. “You cannot be here, y-you just-- can’t! Oh, my god, Sierra…”

“No, no, i-it’s all fine, Duval! Trust me, I-I-- No one knows! No one knows I’m here--”

“Exactly! W-We need to take you back,” Duval scoffed, “this is-- oh my god, you’re going to die out here like this, Sierra…!”

“Please, Duval, just listen to me…!” Sierra shouted, only now turned onto her back after the fall. The sight above her had her choked; Duval’s glare amidst her nervous reaction was particularly imposing, a side of the scientist that Sierra had never seen.

“No…! Sierra, no…” Duval closed her eyes in frustration, a trembling hand brushing across her brow and down her cheek. “How did you-- No, no, it doesn’t matter! This is so wrong…”

Sierra tried to speak, but a swirling in her stomach slowed her. After two heavy breaths, she squeaked, “Please, c-can we talk, Duval?” She shuddered pathetically, her tiny body quivering in Duval’s shadow. “Please… I just came here to talk to you, Duval. Th-That’s all.”

“That’s all? J-Just to talk?” Duval swallowed on what would have been a sarcastic laugh. “... You risked your life, just to try and talk to me?”

“Yes!” Sierra jumped. “A-And I-I’d do it again…!”

“Stupid,” Duval winced. “I’m sorry, but that’s… absurd. It’s so reckless, Sierra.”

Sierra was shaken by the reply, but she persisted, “It’s… what I had to do. It’s all I could do -- you were ignoring me! I-I could never have a chance to just talk like we used to--!”

“We can’t, anymore! We… We can’t talk like that! I-It’s too complicated for you--”

“No, I know everything!” Sierra stepped forward, closer to Duval’s thigh so that she could caress that side of her. “I… figured it out, th-that you’re being recorded. I know what’s going on.”

“You…?” Duval bit her lip, the expression hidden behind her palm as it stretched down her face. “Sierra, you surely only know so much about what’s happening. If you did know everything…”

“I-It’s because of Ericka,” Sierra interrupted. “Right? Sh-She must have seen something, or she’s trying to get you fired -- either way, that… that’s not going to get in between us! N-Nothing will!”

Duval’s eyes closed again, her body cramped with stress. “Ericka is… only one part of all this,” she groaned, “Sierra… I-I wanted to explain it to you, but that’s exactly what would make things worse. And now with you doing this… I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Sierra asked. “I-I want to know when this’ll be over. When can we go back to normal? When am I supposed to… be with you? I’m confused, Duval, a-and… it’s so scary not knowing what’s happening.”

Duval frowned, upset with herself for lacking the answers Sierra strived for. “... I don’t know if there’ll ever be a normal like before,” she admitted, parsing out her words. “Ericka… caught me at the hotel, after I took you back.”

Sierra became still, her hands flexing to her chest in worry. “D-Does… she know…?”

“She only knows I took someone,” Duval continued, “but she didn’t ask about who. She didn’t care. She… wanted to protect me, as much as she could. She wanted to protect me from myself.”

“She just doesn’t realize,” Sierra said. “She doesn’t know we’re… in love. She doesn’t know what she’s doing--”

“She’s doing her job,” Duval cut in, “like I should be doing…! This has gotten so out of hand… I-I--”

“No, no Duval,” Sierra stuttered, both hands now on Duval’s leg. “We can get through this… I-I’m sorry, for having done all this sneaking around… I-I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be here…”

“... How long were you in there?” A blink of silence. “When did you get in my pocket? When-- What did you hear, Sierra?”

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“At the meeting. You had to be there. What did you hear?”

“I don’t-- er, I… I heard you all talking,” Sierra shrugged in distress. “About… things-- It doesn’t matter! I-It doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“Sierra--”

“I know! I know, I-I can’t… There’s no returning to my normal size.” Sierra paused, her throat frosting over after speaking the truth for the first time. “No one can. I-I heard that… How Shoote isn’t able to grow the subjects back to normal…”

Stricken with pity, Duval’s body compassionately began to relax, but still as stressed as before. She offered a hand, shaky as it might have been, and scooped Sierra into her palm gently. She lifted the little woman to chest-height, and with the seat now available, situated herself back into a normal posture in front of the steering wheel. Sierra was equally as untalkative as this shift occurred, neither wanting to progress the lingering topic.

“... Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” Sierra spoke up to the mighty face before her, less afraid of Duval’s size than when she stood beside her. “I don’t care about that. I just want… you, t-to be with you, to have you. And I want to be like this! I want to be tiny and held like this… Th-This is what I want! It’s okay!”

“No, it isn’t okay,” Duval countered. “You-- We can’t live like this. I’m your overseer, y-you’re part of an experiment, and you’re… like this! You’re small, you’re… vulnerable. What’s our life supposed to look like…?”

“I-It can be anything we want it to be!” Sierra pushed. “It’s our future, isn’t it? We can become anything!”

“I want us to be together, but wanting alone… doesn’t change reality. I want you terribly, Sierra, but can it really be like… this? Can we truly just decide to live together like this?”

“Yes… Being with you, while tiny, i-it’s all I think about. It’s not easy to explain… b-but I want to make you feel important, significant. I want us to have… meaning. It’s my dream to be like this with you forever.”

“A dream, right,” Duval sighed. “That’s it, I think. That’s the difference…”

“Duval…”

“You’re able to dream, Sierra, and fantasize about what we could do, and what you want to do. I… I don’t do that. I’m a scientist, Sierra, w-we calculate. We don’t dream, we hypothesize. And this logic you have, it doesn’t work -- you don’t see the future, you see what… what you desire. You’ve made an end-goal in your mind, but… how? How do we get there?”

“I don’t know, n-not yet,” Sierra admitted quickly. “But… I know you want this too. And if you do want it… I know you’ll think of something for us! I know you will!”

“Do you think I haven’t? I’ve tried, Sierra! But anything I do to continue… this… it’s going to risk my job. I worked so hard for this project, I’ve put so much of myself into this revolutionary science… and damn it, that doesn’t even matter-- I’m risking you! Not just your health, god knows that’s important too, b-but they could take you away from me! They could send you to another overseer, they could-- no, I don’t even want to think what they could do to you! Th-This is what I mean, Sierra, it… isn’t possible! We can’t!”

“We can, I-I believe that…!” Sierra whimpered, her arms whipping to her sides without something to grab or shake or push like they wanted. “We can… deal with this! I can deal with it, I can wait… When this project is over, which it has to end, y-you can take me! Eventually it’ll have to end--”

“What if I’m reassigned?! What if I’m just straight-up fired?!” Duval attacked with her arguments, all of which had been great blades pierced into her conscience since the showcase, since that night at the hotel. “Did you not think ahead like this? Well, I did! And that’s why… why it just has to… end…! There’s not a guaranteed happy ending to any of this. There’s only a long, long road… spanning years, where everyday is a risk to what this thing we have is.”

“Is that what we’re supposed to live with? A-Am I just supposed to be happy that I can even see you through a glass wall?” Sierra looked astray, as if beaming her vision directly to where the terrarium was inside the labs. “I don’t want to be there, Duval. I feel trapped there. Everything’s frozen… It’s not what I expected. But you-- I love you. And… you won’t say that back to me, will you…?”

“I love you, Sierra,” Duval confidently claimed. “You are a treasure, I-- but… you’re so precious, too. You’re too precious for me to lose to something like this.”

“Then… Th-Then just run away with me…!” Sierra stood up, taking a desperate stance on this suggestion. “We can go now! They couldn’t catch you!”

“Sierra…”

“If you love me, th-then do it…! Drive away with me, right now! And then, wherever we go, th-that can be our life! We can--”

“No, Sierra.”

“We can make this happen…! We love each other, and I… can’t go back there…! Not now…”

“Sierra, it can’t be like this.”

“Because… there isn’t anything for me. I can’t even go back to a normal life. I’m stuck like this. Like all of them.”

“S-Sierra… They’re working on a reversal procedure. I-It can happen, they’re trying--”

“No. I don’t want to go back to normal. I want this! I want you! I-I want us to escape!”

“... And just throw away everything I’ve worked for?!” Duval’s volume raised, and appropriately did it raise the heat around Sierra within her palm. “You don’t understand, Sierra! I’ve gone through hell to get this! This is what I wanted! To be on the cutting edge of science! To discover something that changes the world! And I watched my sisters fail to get there, and I watched my friends fail to keep up with me, and I competed with coworkers to have this…! And now I should throw that all away, and run away, from everything I had wanted…?”

Duval breathed. All while she had spoken, her hand had rumbled with her emphasises, talking over the whimpers Sierra defensively produced. Only after ranting did it sting Duval back, realizing her tone, her bluntness -- Sierra was visibly quivering, coiled helplessly in her hospital gown. The life drained from Duval.

“Pl-Please stop…” Sierra said, her voice shrunken and meek. “Don’t… Please d-don’t yell at me…! I-I’m sorry!”

“Sweetheart, no--”

“I’ve ruined it! I-I’ve ruined everything…!”

“Sierra, listen to me, please…! I just wanted you to understand--”

“No-- I know now! I do understand…! I-I get it! It… can’t! It just can’t…! And all I’ve done is-- is make you risk it all!”

“You’re worth these risks, Sierra! I want you in my life -- I want to share my world with you…! Please, don’t act this way--”

“I get it-- a risk-- is what I am…! That night, I made you risk throwing away everything you’ve made for yourself…! You’ve worked so hard -- you’re right, Duval, I’m sorry, Duval, I-I’m--”

Duval stammered into Sierra’s words, and then into Sierra herself. She pushed forward into a kiss, dwarfing the woman into the gesture like a powerful wind. Her eyes closed, but in her hum of delight, there was pushback. Sierra complained, her limbs flailed outside the mouth -- “No! Don’t you-- No!” she hissed at Duval, until finally the lips lifted away in a gasp.

“Si-Sierra…! I was--”

“Shut up! Y-You can’t just-- you don’t just do that! I-I can’t-- I can’t!” Sierra heaved, slipping in Duval’s unusual grip on her body. She kicked away in rattled movements, but Duval’s hand was all she could flee to, and Duval’s worry was all she could see. Sierra wheezed, a timid voice all that could continue on, “I can’t stop you…! I’m too weak…! I’m-- I’m p-powerless…!”

Trickles of tears turned to streams. Sierra wept, tangling her arms around the ring finger into a desperate, craving embrace. Duval lowered her away, making what little distance she could create in the cage-like car. The energy of their argument strangled them in their own ways, the air resonating with tension. Duval hesitated with every thought, crippled by Sierra’s shaking, and then cut by the wetness of her tears, their touch on her skin like steel.

“Put me down…”

“Wh-What?” Duval’s throat was dry. “Where…?”

“Anywhere! I-I don’t want to be held…!”

Duval stiffened. Sierra… You trust me, don’t you?

Sierra huffed. She wouldn’t repeat herself, if she didn’t have to.

Duval lowered her to the gray plain of the passenger seat. Sierra slipped through the fingers in a crawl. A final whine dismissed the hand, leaving her to weep and shake on her hands and knees. Duval dragged her own hand away, respecting Sierra’s wish regardless of how it hurt her.

There was no will to keep arguing. Duval turned away, a deep gaze cast out the window and through the parking garage. In her own space, she cried, muffled sobs kept hidden from Sierra. The conversation burned on in her head, repeating the bitter truths that had been concluded. There was more she wished to explain, and more she wished that could be done, but greater than that was her regret. She overpowered Sierra. She forced her, pushed her, a complete breakaway from the tenderness she practiced. As surely as Sierra could not trust that hand, neither could Duval herself any longer.

The rays of sunset eventually glared into the garage. Shoote Labs had locked its doors, and accessing the building after hours would raise a flag in security -- Duval would be found sneaking back to the medbay, if she even tried to attempt it. This was realized in stoicism, only a sigh to exhaust the stress Duval was settled into. Sierra shivered in an uncomfortable sleep, collapsed where she was. Logic illuminated the only decision Duval could make, and so she progressed, taking herself and her partner to their only refuge.

Home.