Chapter Text
There were no alarms that went off in her brain after the first hour. She knew it was no secret that Adam took forever to respond to text messages, and she also knew that the first few minutes of the lab were always chaotic - there were numbers to check, there were test results to update, and there were “whiney, Gen Z grads” to baby (Adam’s words, not hers).
But as the minutes slipped by and the sun rose higher in the Californian sky, Olive thought that perhaps there was something…off. It was true that she and Adam had just messaged sometime last night, wishing each other sweet cell theory dreams before retiring to their slumber. Right as her eyes grew truly drowsy, Olive had sent him a biology meme that she thought would make Adam laugh first thing in the morning. And when her alarm blasted the blaring notes of “Uptown Funk,” she promptly rose, downed a quick cup of coffee and a peanut butter chocolate Chewy bar, and biked to her lab at Stanford. She prepped equipment, sent some emails, and logged notes on her latest round of tests. Yes, it was normal - there was nothing not normal. It was all - in fact - very normal.
Except it was now well past 10. And it had been over twelve hours since Adam had read her last messages.
Am I…overreacting? Olive thought, opening their chat for the millionth time and wondering if the "Computational Biologists Are Just Research Parasites” meme was actually offensive. Her phone vibrated in her hand, but she disappointed herself checking it in real time - especially since it was only a new notification for a Buzzfeed Quiz titled “What Color Is Your Aura Based On Your Favorite Dessert?!” Olive briefly thought she might actually take the quiz to keep her anxious mind off of Adam’s lack of response when a timer went off, somewhere deep in her lab, and she put down her phone and went to check on her mice.
Though she did not yet secure a lab for her pancreatic cancer research (keyword, yet), she knew these independent trials would lead to important discoveries down the line. Besides, she was not tied to anyone or anything while still at Stanford, which had its advantages. Olive could run whatever experiments she wanted (within the program limits, of course) without being tethered to certain obligations - and if it led to something great, it was only more fuel for another program to invest in her research.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she followed the pealing sound of the timer and observed the little creatures in the incubated cubes.
Fifty of the mice had received a potent mix of immunosuppressants yesterday.
And when she peered into the windowed cube, she saw that two mice had died overnight.
One of the dead crawled into the farthest corner of the incubator before it perished. This was normal behavior - animals usually felt when it was their time to pass on, and they sought a place of isolation and comfort. So that didn’t bother her much.
It was the other one that unnerved her. A large, dark-colored mouse - the only one of its kind - was morbidly squished up against the glass, its little face twisted in apparent immunosuppressing agony as its spirit ascended into Mouse Heaven.
Olive’s breath hitched as she observed the site.
Is this a sign from the universe? she thought darkly to herself. Absent-mindedly, she looked towards the front of the lab, in the direction of her phone, hoping to hear the subtle vibrating sound of a new text message.
…Then she shook her head, because this was crazy. This was paranoia. This was - - what had Malcolm said? Oh yeah - anxious attachment!
“Do you think I'm projecting my attachment style?” she asked one of the mice that had scurried up to the window in anticipation of its breakfast. Its beady eyes just looked at Olive blankly and offered no wisdom, mousey or humany or otherwise. She sighed as she changed her gloves and prepped the pellets of lab blocks for their feedings.
But after the rounds, Olive couldn’t help but wander back to her phone - and she totally did not jog the fifty feet across the room, thank you very much. She picked up the device, unlocked the screen and…
Hmm. Still nothing from Adam.
This is fine. You’re fine. Olive said to herself, ignoring the growing knot in her stomach. Adam doesn’t hate you. He would never ghost you. You literally made plans to hike at Byxbee Park this weekend!
Sighing aloud to the empty lab, she mused, What would Ahn say if she saw me like this?
Calm your tits, Olive, Ahn’s voice immediately quipped.
Having no control about her tits whatsoever (at least not in this context), she decided to take ten and open up that Buzzfeed Quiz.
As she was mulling over whether strawberry sunrise or confetti cake matched her morning mood, a text message notification popped up in the corner.
[Group Name] Holden’s Hotties 🔥 🔥 🔥
[10.21AM] Holden: You guys wanna come over and roll a joint and watch Spirited Away?
[10.22AM] Malcolm: What’s that, babe
[10.22AM] Holden: !!! helllloooo literally best animated movie ever!!!!
[10.22AM] Malcolm: Noooo. Better than Shrek?
[10.23AM] Holden: SHREKKKK??? Better than SPIRITED AWAYYYY are you fucking high already!!!
The lighthearted exchange did not help her mood whatsoever. Fingers brushed against Olive’s lips, the thought of ripping off all her fingernails desperately tempting. She hated being the party pooper in the conversation (even if her brain did itch to list several reasons why Shrek was one of the greatest films of all time), but since the door was open, Olive figured she may as well try.
[10.24AM] Olive: Hi.
[10.24AM] Olive: Has anyone seen or heard from Adam today?
[10.25AM] Holden: Hey OlliePop
[10.25AM] Holden: I’m offsite today, but haven’t heard from good old Grumpy Gills
[10.25AM] Holden: Why?
Shit, Olive thought, remembering that both Malcolm and Holden were elsewhere, outside the Stanford Campus.
Olive tried to still her shaking fingers as she typed out a response.
[10.27AM] Olive: I think it’s…nothing really
[10.27AM] Olive: He’s just
[10.27AM] Olive: Not reading his messages
[10.27AM] Holden: Typical!!!
[10.28AM] Malcolm: Uh oh. Let me try.
[10.28AM] Malcolm: @Adam, respectfully, what is the GOATed movie and why is it Shrek?
[10.29AM] Holden: Babe stfu about Shrek
[10.29AM] Holden: Olive, what he do to you
[10.29AM] Holden: Do I have to beat him up
Olive couldn’t even smile at Holden’s endearing attempt at making her feel better. Her heart was too busy accelerating into her throat.
[10.31AM] Olive: I just haven’t heard from him all morning and idk
[10.31AM] Olive: Worried, I guess
[10.32AM] Olive: I know, anxious attachment lol 😅
[10.32AM] Malcolm: Awhhh Kalamata
[10.32AM] Holden: Yo!!!! Adamame!!!
[10.32AM] Holden: Stop being an old fart and answer your gd text messages!!!!!
She exited out of the conversation and immediately opened her contacts, pressed on the first pinned number, and called.
Calling was not their normal status quo, and Adam typically didn’t take any calls when he was in the lab - but Adam didn’t follow the status quo for her, and she knew if his phone buzzed, he would at least pick up the call and tell her that he was busy.
Ring.
The silence of the lab went on, the only sound being the dialing of the number in her ear.
Ring.
Come on Adam…
Ring.
Pick up, please…
Ring.
The line cut off, with the generic “You have reached…” voicemail on the other end.
Trying not to panic, Olive opened her texts again.
This time, it was an individual message from Holden.
[10.39AM] Holden: Hey Ol. He should be in the lab now. Why don’t you walk over?
[10.39AM] Holden: Wish I was there to go check!
[10.39AM] Holden: Let me know what happens. Smack him on the ass for me, would ya 😘
After shooting off a text in thanks, Olive checked her numbers for the tests she was running, stabilized a few things, and stepped out.
The FOB beeped as soon as Olive swiped her ID, and she pushed open the metal door to Adam’s lab. The bright, stark light hit her eyes at the clear sound of chatter echoed in her ears.
And yet, when the door fully swung open, the voices died down immediately.
Adjusting her eyes to the light, Olive saw Adam’s cohort of lab assistants, all at various stations and benches, and now all currently staring wide-eyed at Olive. There was a moment of mutual confusion between all parties, but Olive opened her mouth to cut straight to the point.
“Have you seen Dr. - - “
But the question died on her lips as her eyes settled on something.
A bottle.
Of Pepsi.
In the hands.
Of one of Adam’s assistants.
In his lab.
Olive’s mind whirred as she tried to make sense of the godforsaken soda - and fucking Pepsi, at that. It was a well known, clear cut, no-excuses rule that Dr. Carlsen enforced in the lab - no food or drink whatsoever, full stop. So the sight of one of these dumb-dumb assistants (geeze, Adam was really rubbing off on her) brazenly drinking in the lab meant something was off.
Adam would never allow them to drink in the lab. And that was because…
“Dr. Carlsen isn’t here,” a voice cut into Olive’s thoughts. It was a girl with blue hair, pencil-thin eyebrows, and a nose ring - and from the frightened look on her face, one would think she just shat a brick in her pants. “We haven’t seen him or heard from him today - not even an email.” She skittishly glanced at her peers before continuing, “We knew the protocol when we arrived this morning, and so…we just followed it. Dr. Carlsen doesn’t like to be contacted unless it’s an emergency. So…” Biting the inside of her cheek, she finished with, “So we just went on with business as usual…”
Damn you, Adam, Olive inwardly cursed. They’re scared shitless of you, even when you’re not here. She would have laughed if not for the cold, leaden ball that now settled in her stomach.
“Business…” Olive said, her tongue dry against the roof of her mouth, “As usual?” She gulped. “With a drink in the lab?”
She made eye contact with the guilty assistant as she said this. A blush bloomed across his features as he snatched the bottle off the counter. “I’ll just…” He didn’t finish, but began to stand up from where he was sitting. “You’re not going to tell Dr. Carlsen, are you?”
Without a second thought, Olive turned and ran.