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Not many people are sent to work with Doctor Temnova, and they're almost never interns, which is why it's pretty shocking to Yura (who's been at the Institute for maybe a month) when he's sent to work with her.
"What's it like?" asks Anfisa, an acquaintance from the identification department, when Yura is in the lunch room during break. He shrugs.
"I'm not actually doing much. Man, I feel like I'm a sexy secretary."
"You're not sexy though!" calls Toma from security. Yura laughs harshly and flips the guy off.
Really, though, it's not much of anything. He runs coffee for Temnova, sure. Tidies her office, helps her with paperwork, does her printing jobs. It's not special.
Well, besides the way she stares at him, with this weird look in her eyes that he just can't pin down.
He's organizing some files for her one day when she speaks up.
"You know," she says, "I wasn't born Tatiana Temnova."
Yura slowly turns his head towards her, unsure where this is going. Temnova is fond of sugary small talk, sure, but this seems… different.
"Hm?"
"My name was… Oh, it was so long ago… Dmitry Temnov, I think? My family, they called me Mitya." She laughs, like she hasn't just caused the earth to shake beneath Yura's feet. "Can you imagine, the miserable little thing I was back then?"
Yura swallows. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.
"You… Uh, y-you know that transvestitism is like, against the law, right?"
"Oh, you wouldn't report me," she says easily, "and besides, they wouldn't do a thing about me anyway. They need me, you know."
"They need you?" Yura asks. Temnova tsks.
"You're getting off topic, Beletskaya." Yura barely has time to note the regendering of his surname before she keeps going. "My point is, ah… You remind me a lot of my younger self."
Yura stills, staring straight ahead at the woman in front of him. Yes, a woman, undeniably. With long hair and a pretty face and a hard-to-ignore rack. And smart to boot, well-respected, almost the center of the machine that is the Institute.
The type of person that a worthless guy like Yura could only dream of being.
"Quit messing with me," Yura mumbles, looking back down at the files. There's a hand on his chin, and then Temnova is wrenching his head back to look at her.
"Beletskaya," she repeats. "You don't want to live a lie forever, do you?"
It feels like Yura's heart is being held in the palm of Temnova's hand.
"I-I… I'm not…"
"The Zone smiles on those like us, you know." Though her gaze remains fixed on Yura's eyes, she seems to be staring beyond them. The slightest of lovestruck smiles crosses her mouth. "She knows, and She understands, and She will take care of you, if you will let her."
Yura's mouth feels dry, and the corners of her eyes wet, and the way Temnova's fingers are digging into her flesh hurts in a way she didn't think was possible.
Wait. She?
Yura shakes her— his head, trying to dislodge Temnova's grip. "I'm not… I'm not."
"What a shame," Temnova laments as she lets go. "Then I suppose the misery in your soul is unhealable."
"What misery?!" Yura exclaims. His heart is beating a mile a minute. "I— I'm fine, I'm fucking fine!"
"You have dead eyes." She picks at her braid idly. "What a shame, really, what a shame."
Yura doesn't know what to say.
He returns, in silence, to sorting files.