This choice: Try to absorb Darcy again • Go Back...Chapter #3Darcy, Darcy... by: imaj   “Darcy,” yells Summer, thumping on the stall door. “Darcy, open up.”
Not good. Not good at all. Unless you do something Summer is likely to try to open the door herself in a minute. You still have no idea what caused you to absorb Darcy within yourself this morning, but right now your best chance is somehow trigger it again. You kneel back down on the floor beside her slumbering body. Wrapping your arms around her, you try to will the change to take place.
Nothing happens.
“Should I come in,” asks Summer, knocking on the stall door again.
It’s not working. Desperately, you think back to what happened this morning: Darcy arriving at the door. Darcy getting the papers out her bag. Darcy giving you the papers. No. That’s not right, she dropped the papers as you reached to take them. That’s when it happened, when you tried to take something from her.
So you start thinking about what you want to take. Her body, her memories, her very identity. You feel it as your flesh begins to lose its solidity, engulfing Darcy and drawing her within yourself. The changes come on quickly after that. Bones grind and pop as they shift themselves into new shapes. Flesh bubbles and swells, padding out some areas and thinning in others. You groan involuntarily in a low, masculine, register which rapidly rises in pitch.
“I’m coming in,” shouts Summer from the other side of the stall door.
She starts pushing at the door, trying to get in. You doubt it will hold long and starting willing the transformation to go faster, praying it will finish before Summer makes it in.
“Ow,” you screech as the lock breaks and the door snaps open and hits you squarely on the ass.
“Oh sorry,” says Summer as she helps you to your feet. She doesn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary so you guess you managed to luck out and finish becoming Darcy in time. “So are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” you snap, carefully modulating your tone to match the way the real Darcy would reply. “It was just a stomach upset. Something I ate.”
“Sorry, sorry,” says Summer a little insouciantly as she hooks her arm into yours and leads you away from the stall. “You sounded a little weird there for a moment, like a guy or something”.
You pause for a moment and turn to face Summer. You give her a cool stare for a moment.
“I said sorry,” she says, acting hurt. “So how about that coffee then?”
“No,” you reply firmly. “I should get some sleep.”
Summer looks at you uncertainly for a moment, then with a cheery wave she bids you goodbye. She walks out the door, leaving you alone in the toilets. You inspect yourself carefully in the mirror, turning your head first one way then the other, making sure that the transformation is complete. There is neither any hint of your real self, nor that you are anyone other than who you appear to be.
Darcy had planned to go home and get some sleep after her test, and sifting through her feelings you can sense just how tired she would be by now. It’s tempting to give in to her tiredness, submerged as you are in her persona. On the other hand, you, the core of yourself buried deep under the fake Darcy self, aren’t tired at all. What you really need to do is start researching your condition – work out what the SX-3 has done to you. It wouldn’t hurt to check up on how Jillian is reacting to your apparent disappearance either. Both of these things would lead you back to Protean Industries. Since Darcy is an intern there, you can walk straight in too. With your mind made up, you spend a brief moment primping your hair before setting out.
*****
Protean is quite close to Keyserling, located on a modern research and business park not far from the college grounds, so it doesn’t take long to get there. You were able to walk in past security with no problems. There were no extra guards, no worried looking faces and no sign at all that anybody is concerned over the sudden disappearance of Mark Taylor.
Your lab looks almost exactly as you left it yesterday. There’s no sign that anyone else has been in here, aside from Jillian. She’s leaning over one of the benches opposite the door, rummaging through a messy pile of computer print outs. Jillian appears a little haggard looking, not quite herself. You can’t quite make out what the problem is from this distance.
“Jillian,” you call out. “Dr Harding.”
Jillian looks up from her papers and gives you a forlorn little wave before resuming her deliberations. Not wanting to disturb her any more than necessary, you start to walk across the lab to her position. The clacking of your shoes on the hard surface of the floor rings loudly in the otherwise silent lab. As you approach, you get a clearer look at Jillian. She hasn’t styled her hair with her usual care and attention, instead tying it up into a very rough ponytail. Her make up is a little smudged, suggesting she’s been crying.
“Is everything alright,” you ask abruptly. It’s a typically direct Darcy question.
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” Jillian replies, looking in almost every direction except directly at you.
“You seem out of sorts,” you state. Darcy isn’t the most sensitive people but even she would have noticed just how upset Jillian is. She just wouldn’t be very tactful about it. “Where’s Mark?”
Jillian pauses for a moment. She snuffles a little before answering. “He’s back at home. He’s come down with the flu.”
You feel a bit guilty for asking. Jillian’s obviously upset, and your questions have upset her further. However, you’ve learned something important – that she’s kept the promise she made yesterday not to tell anyone. That’s something that makes you think she deserves a little of your trust in return.
“Jillian, Jill,” you say hesitantly, letting the mask of Darcy’s thoughts slip from your mind. “I know where Mark is.”
“I told you,” she says shakily, not looking up from her papers. “He’s at home”
“He’s not,” you say softly. “Jill, look up. Look up and listen.”
She drops her paper to the desk and looks directly at you, misery etched on her face.
“You have to trust me,” you continue. “Promise me you can stay calm for the next five minutes.”
“You’re not making any sense Darcy,” says Jillian flatly.
“Please,” you plead. “Just… Just say you’ll stay calm. Just for five minutes.”
“I guess I can,” she says unsurely. “You’re still not making any sense though.”
“Just… Just watch.”
You stand still for a minute, trying to recall the feeling in your stomach from earlier. A stabbing pain tells you that you have succeeded, and soon enough you feel the fluid starting to gush up your throat. Even though you know what to expect this time, the process of releasing Darcy from within you is just as weird and sickening as before. Hunched on the floor, sweating at the effort of it, you are unable to gauge Jillian’s reaction to what she is seeing other than from an occasional shocked gasp.
And then it is over. Darcy lies unconscious on the floor as you stand back up, your blue waxy flesh solidifying back into your real from. You look Jillian in the eye, unable to read the expression on her face.
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