Chapter Text
Though somewhat scattered among the days where he neither had time in his schedule, nor energy left in his body to really ponder about its quality, Enigma would say that, in general, there were more good days than there were bad. Most technically weren't 'good' days, just days that weren't bad. But this was already a major improvement from when the days, and weeks, then months blurred into eight agonizing years, fuelled by glass bottles and walled in on all sides by columns of weathered pages and a barbed facade. At least the walks from his office to the meeting room gave him a change of scenery, and a pressing reason to stretch his legs. Variety in environment is essential to animals like humans. He'd take what he can get.
Last night, he had conked out at 1 am sharp, which was significant because it meant he slept more than two hours earlier than usual, how did that even happen? It didn't matter, because Enigma was human. And as luck would have it, the human mind was a volatile thing. He could have had a proper meal, or as proper a meal the cafeteria could offer, followed by an engaging yet cathartic activity to unwind after work, then almost 7 hours of sleep the night before, and still wake up knowing it was inexplicably, inescapably a bad day.
He had startled awake from a dream he couldn't remember, feeling all two hundred and six of his bones, feeling his brain sloshing around his cranial vault, feeling the heavy eyelids, deep muscle aches, and the excessively edgy, antsy monolog repeating equal parts hysteria and despair. They were all part of a package deal he realized came free, lifetime warranty, with his beating heart and pulsing mind. Pity there was no customer support for refunds.
Today would be one of those days then, he concluded neutrally when the sharp light from the only window in the room shone over his face. What idiot doesn't close the blinds at night? Once he musters up the energy to get up, he'd be sure to go give them a piece of their mind, civilly. Only, he realized he had been scolding them the entire time, because it was he himself who left his blinds open, letting them drape uselessly around his window and the accursed morning sun to leak into his office. Leck mich. Why can he smell the fucking carpet?
He could cuss himself out another time, right now he was stuck to the floor of his office, undoubtedly surrounded by paper work he needed to get to, and couldn't find it in him to move. It wasn't sleep paralysis, he knew fully that he was still capable of moving, he just couldn't bring himself to, or he would've gotten up to shut out the light already. Peeling back his eyelids felt like a gargantuan task, never mind dragging his elbows back, planting his arms onto the worn carpet, and pushing his upper body away from the ground. Experimentally he tried to inch his hand to the leg of his desk for leverage, getting nowhere and the solid confirmation that it was indeed, one of those days.
What exactly could he have done last night to find himself in this position today? It was a question for someone who could piece together more coherent thoughts than himself. But Enigma knew even he wouldn't resort to making his bed on the floor. Once again, he flexed his fingers vaguely towards the desk. Based on the direction of the light hitting his face and general structure of paper piles around him, he assumed he was in the middle of the room, right in front of his desk and- Scheiße!
Shooting up from pain and clutching his hand to his chest, he finally opened his eyes to see drops of blood pooling on his ring finger. A paper cut. Just what he needed. The culprit was easily located among the messier than typical floor and promptly detained; a Laplace monthly magazine turned to the spread with 4 panel comics, corny science jokes, and most importantly, the crossword. A shame they were all filled out already, or he could've spent the day mulling over it, perhaps entertaining his mind for long enough to ease it back to work.
But something wasn't right. Half of it wasn't done in his handwriting; they were far too legible and orderly, yet painstakingly familiar.
Auauau.
Ah, that's right. He solved it with Ulrich last night. Maybe that was why he woke up in such a sorry state, because his proximity to the Ferrofluid was negatively related to his mood. Exhausting his researcher brain again, he dared to pose another question: Why was he solving crosswords with Ulrich last night? Things like that just didn't happen. He began working up a headache trying to remember the happenings of the day before.
On the rare occasion where Enigma was needed to help with practical work, he usually found himself in the cryptography lab with its lead. So that was where he found himself yesterday afternoon, helping out where he can but otherwise taking the backseat. The actual bulk of the experiment didn't matter now, seeing as they couldn't gather conclusive results anyway. He was just glad to be back in the labs, doing actual research instead of the bureaucratic administrative bullshit.
The team had started much earlier prior to Enigma's arrival, and continued well into the evening. The LSCC working hours technically only lasted till seven pm, if you tried to pry a researcher from their station before the clock struck at least nine, however, there's a non-zero chance someone ends up in a body bag. Unpaid overtime be damned, scientific progress wasn't about to progress itself.
Rather unfortunately though, they couldn't find anything substantial enough to report. Instead of taking the opportunity to clock out at a modest eight o'clock, Ulrich had insisted they keep going at it for another hour at least. We're close to a breakthrough, I'm sure of it! We can't back down now at such a decisive stage!" Enigma recalled butting heads with him for a while about not wasting everyone's time, but conceded when the rest of the team decided to go along with Ulrich to just get it over with already.
Three more hours of poking and prodding at their nebulous hypothesis later, Ulrich's decision to continue was overruled and everyone closed up shop and went on home. Everyone, except the cryptography lead and substitute director, of which the latter was slightly shaking from withheld laughter as the former talked himself down from a storm in petulance. It would be so easy to laugh at the grouchy, star-shaped ferrofluid, but that would instantly trigger an argument Enigma did not have the energy for. So he just sucked in a breath through his nose and kept his brilliant and witty comments to himself as they walked to the cafeteria.
They. Yes, they. The glass tank of oil practically stomping besides him would never admit it, but he too was tired after hovering around the lab since seven that morning. Besides, making time to eat with his colleagues at dinner was apparently a thing Ulrich did, never mind that the Awakened didn't need to eat, or that there was only one colleague and said colleague didn't think he needed to eat either.
Halfway into an apple, Enigma almost bit his tongue off when Ulrich had slammed something onto the table completely unprompted, with not even incoming footsteps to serve as a warning.
"Adler, look at what I found by the coffee machine."
"ACH DU SCHEIßE-
At least tap my shoulder or something!" Perhaps not. He'd likely have the exact same reaction. "Don't just-"
"It's next month's edition of the Laplace magazine! They must've been delivered in the afternoon since I didn't see them this morning." Ulrich paid him and his grievances no mind as he flipped through the glossy pages.
"Right, yes. I can see that much. Why does that matter?"
The ferrofluid formed a question mark. "I thought you enjoyed doing the crossword puzzles in these." The page before him was turned to the aforementioned spread with the comics, jokes, and most importantly, the English-Latin-mystery language crossword. "Give me a pen. 1 across should be 'accismus'."
"Ulrich, I'm trying to eat." He said while sliding the zine squarely in front of him.
"You're almost done anyway. Hurry up and help me with this." He snatched the pen on the lapel of Enigma's coat and began scribbling away, effectively stunning the man with his forward audacity.
But wait, there was more.
Ulrich had leaned onto the human's side.
No. That was putting it generously. What Ulrich was actually doing could be more aptly described as straight up snuggling up to him. The Awakened, with one arm pushed against the backrest of Enigma's seat, had pressed most of his mechanical body's weight into the human's arm and shoulder. One hand seemed to tap the padded chair in contemplation, the other was held to his 'chin', the pen, Enigma's pen, occasionally clinking the glass tank. He held the air of someone calm, poised, and unbothered, nonchalant, even, as if he hadn't just pranced over the social boundaries of coworkers and skipped his merry way over to the blurry lines of something else. Despite this ridiculous breach of personal space, Enigma couldn't bring himself to feel any angrier than on a reactive, superficial level, and even less an urge to pull away from Ulrich, no matter how funny it would be to see him fall into the chair. The flush on his cheek could have been attributed to the warmth emanated by the mechanical body pressed up to him, but he too knew something else was at play.
"I know you likely don't get told off about personal space much, but you're a bit close, don't you think?" The question fell evenly out of his mouth. His eyes bore holes into 20 down, and not just because the clue was being particularly obtuse.
"Nonsense, Adler," said Ulrich as he wrote 'calipygian' in 20 down, then casually reached further to Enigma's side of the table to cross out its hint. "I can't get to half the page without leaning over. Have you even finished a single one? Don't you do this all day?"
"If you want me to write the answers with blood from my fingers, you should've just said so." He was shaken out of his daze with comfortable irritation, and, consciously or not, chased the metaphorical red herring to a gloved hand. Crosswords were his long-time familiars, he slipped easily into the blank squares and numbers. "And you're wrong. 20 down can't be 'callipygian' because you've missed an 'L'." With his pen between his fingers, he jotted 'voluptuous' over the other's incorrect answer, and the two genius cryptographers fell into a well-acquainted rhythm, staying exactly as they were until the empty space was filled.
Perhaps it was the quiet lull of a pastime he held close to his heart and mind that the unsettling truth eluded him ere the coming morn, because only now did he realise how blind he had been to the foreign intimacy of last night. 'Sharing' meals, engaging in non-work related activities together, causal physical closeness. What was this, Ulrich's take two on humanitarian concern? Surely, even he, especially he, should see that it had been so much more than that. Was this the beginning of a connection that ran deeper than colleagues? Were they becoming... f-f-friends?!?
That was a stupid question; the two had always been more than just colleagues and workplace rivals, and they had this dinner to show for it. But now they were something beyond the undefined and innominate, something that was even harder to draw clear lines around and label. And how ironic was that? That he would have someone like Ulrich to be his... friend. All these years later, colleagues reversed one by one in the 'Storm', or shunned out by his isolation, and Ulrich would be the one who persisted. A conscious strand of ferrofluid in a tin can, the antithesis of everything Enigma stood for, and yet there was no one else who could have fitted that shoe.
Adler of yesterday night clearly hadn't let those thoughts brew, too enamoured by the child's play before him and the... presence by his side. The fool. Ulrich had even offered to walk back to his office together when he, half-lidded and drowsy with sleep, had bumped into one of the oil-tank's antennas. When had the Awakened become so attentive? It felt like the maturing of a kindled fellowship, evolving from mere colleagues to friends. Good friends, even.
"Wouldn't want you stumbling around and passing out somewhere that isn't your desk," Ulrich had jested, hands floating around the human's shoulder when vertigo almost sent him face-first into the table. Enigma didn't feel any more tired than usual, and he definitely didn't need an escort. But when he saw Ulrich was already at the doorway calling to him, speaker volume mindfully lowered, what choice did he have? He acquiesced, trudging through the corridors with the magazine tucked in his arms, echoing footsteps and a soft mechanical whir filling the silence.
The walk from the cafeteria on the first floor to the office on the sixth usually wouldn't take long. The two, however, strolled past the elevators for the stairs in unison. There was no rush, it wasn't like Enigma still had a monthly report to finish. But there was always going to be more work to do, he could take a few liberties while on dinner break and pause as many times as he'd like to catch his breath. Ulrich made no comment, though the ferrofluid did shift to a vibrating ball. Was he grumbling or giggling at his human inefficiency? Enigma didn't know which he preferred.
"Must be-" A heave. "Must be nice. Having that robot body do all the work for you, I mean." They'd reached the sixth floor a few minutes ago, but stalled at the railings where Enigma, neglecting viable options, grabbed at the first thing he saw and consequently gripped Ulrich by the shoulder for support, trying to even his breathing.
"This is hardly a straining task, you know. Your cardiovascular health must be rather poor. Did you know that the recovery wing is equipped with a fitness room?" The Awakened replied, humored. He was being shockingly patient, not a trace of irritation in his hushed voice. "Have you regulated your breathing yet, Adler?"
"I'm fine. Just wondering if I could repel you by eating the cafeteria's supply of apples." He dusted nothing off his coat and began toward their destination, remaining firmly planted by Ulrich's side. The hour hand inched closer and closer to 1 as the pair dragged their feet to the door of his office. Methodically, Enigma punched in the code,
rested his hand on the copper knob,
unlocked the door,
creaked it open and...
"Well, Adler."
Enigma immediately turned to face him.
"I must say, I really enjoyed solving the crossword with you. Your intuition is impeccable." The ferrofluid bobbed up and down as the glass tank 'nodded' in approval.
Enigma found himself halfway through the door, hand clasping the knob and inches away from the confines of his room. He lingered outside the premise. "As is yours, Ulrich. I enjoyed our late night cryptography session. Although I wished you'd let me finish my dinner first."
"Apologies," the Awakened bashfully knocked on his tank, "I can get a bit enthusiastic, you see. It was a rare opportunity to do something non-work related and enjoy it thoroughly."
"You basically dragged me to the cafeteria and held me down to do crosswords with you."
"I suppose that's another way of putting it. Still, thank you for your work today, and for accompanying me at dinner." He paused briefly before continuing, "Would you still be in the labs tomorrow? We could use the help."
"Heh." Enigma glanced at his desk through the opening, "I have actual work to finish. Not everyone can waste time on the clock."
The telltale sign of agitation came in the form of a spiky ball of ferrofluid. "There is no way you'd rather do your directorial duties over actual hands-on research," he stated calmly. The two had both moved into the office. "What needs to be done most urgently?"
"Just the monthly report for the Foundation. Why do you ask?" A conversation from a while back popped into his head. Surely, he wasn't about to...
"I'll finish it for you."
He felt almost giddy at his 'impeccable intuition'. "There's no need, Ulrich. I can do my own work."
"I wasn't implying that you couldn't. Only that you shouldn't be slaving away in here when I need you in the lab with us. Now, which binder do you keep the weekly and daily reports in?" Insanely the Awakened had begun to rummage through his desk, gathering what he needed and dismissing the rest.
The cryptography lead was indeed not the type to offer empty pleasantries, and even less so the type to back down easily. Stubborn to the very mechanical and arcane core, not once did he yield to the human's protests, attempts to sweep the papers and files off the desk, and forceful maneuvers to retrieve the growing pile in Ulrich's arm. The state of the room had started resembling the one Enigma was currently sitting in.
He had been held back by an elbow as the Awakened pillaged through the documents in his office. His body, having marinated in placidity for hours, was sluggish and useless against the robotic one. This counted as robbery, right? He never gave Ulrich permission to take his things. He had explicitly told him not to take his things. "Drop it, bottlebrain." He lunged forward again, "Or I'll report you for employee theft!"
"Report to whom, Mr. Director?"
"Human resources??"
The speakers let out what could've been a huff. "Calm down, Adler-" "Absolutely not-" "-I'm trying to find the budget forms in this mess of an office. You really should tidy up sometimes."
Eventually, the Awakened's patience seemed to wear thin. His glass tank followed the ferrofluid's movement in 'turning' to face Enigma, and for a moment he regretted ever thinking that it had been a good day.
But the scathing and uncalled for comments never came. Instead a pair of hands had pushed him around the wooden desk and paper stacks, expertly maneuvering him to the dingy lounge in the corner of the room. "Was machst du-!"
"I'll return these to you tomorrow. Or I suppose that would be later today" This habit of ignoring people has got to be addressed. What good were those fancy auditory receptors for if he didn’t listen to a word Enigma said! "See you in the lab! Good night, Adler."
"Wait!-"
Too late. Ulrich was out the door and likely down the hallway by the time Enigma got up and stumbled to the desk. He had half a mind to chase him, but the accumulated exhaustion of the past few weeks had well and truly settled deep into his bones. Even knowing that Ulrich was holding the most important documents he needed to handle, or rather, especially knowing that Ulrich would handle the most draining task he had, he fell backwards, barely catching himself with his arms, then his vision blurred dark faster than the crumbling of the world's foundations right as the clock struck one. Wieso hast du das getan?
...
Enigma still hadn't gotten up to close the curtains, too caught up in his reverie to move. The blood had clotted into a flimsy patch over the cut on his finger, and the magazine sprawled haphazardly over his lap.
So there was that. He 'hung out' with Ulrich, got robbed, blacked out on the floor, and woke up feeling like shit. That could explain everything, why he felt the long-ignored fatigue wash over him like a flood, having finally dissolved through the barricades of his mind. He had been given one good night, spent with his friend doing something he enjoyed, the pressure of work literally taken from his hand, and like sipping on beer buzzing and numbing the raw ragged edges, he then plummeted so very, very quickly into a familiar stasis. Some things don't change, he supposed.
What should he do then? Already he felt eight years younger, when the rug of logic and reason had been freshly yanked from beneath his feet, and every brick in his spire of knowledge had been blown away by the winds of time. He recalled the not-quite-warmth on his shoulder and arm, comparing it to the cold nil of now. How much longer until these fleeting moments too slipped through his fingers? So much of what he knew wasn't built to last. His era, the laws of physics, his fellow colleagues, friends, Greta...
.
Why is this what I'm thinking about? Stop it, Verdammt!
He knew it wouldn't help, his thoughts had already begun to spiral. When he had let himself try to establish a constant into his life yesterday night, when he had allowed himself the simple joy of company, free of strings and expectations, he had also unknowingly stared into the eye of a maelstrom, and down, down, down the water column he went. Was this what he deserved for having a good day? Was he not allowed such a privilege, since people much more worthy of life than he couldn't? He felt his eyes stinging at the revelation.
Then came three gentle knocks on the door.
"Adler?"