Rift

Chapter 8: Paranoia

"I know she is," Cree snaps. Colin shuts his mouth and waits for him to keep talking. He recognizes that tone in his voice. The bite behind his words. The venom that he, unfortunately, is rather familiar with.

Cree's jaw tightens and he stiffly pushes away from the wall to turn and stand in front of him, never losing his glare and it only deepens once he's fully face-to-face with the SRL. "We need to talk. Now," he says through grit teeth.

Colin would comment, but he would rather not start the day with a metal fist denting his face. He sharply nods and shuts the door behind him, seeing that in the brief moment he looked away, Cree has already started trudging down the hall and the stairs that lead to the main area.

He followed him to the kitchen that is almost done being repaired. There is a table and chairs now, and Colin pulls one out to sit down. He anticipated Cree to take a seat as well, but instead he walks past the table and over to a counter to lean forward on it with his back to Colin.

Out of precaution alone, Colin says nothing and simply waits for him to get to whatever this is about. Well, he knows what this is probably about, but he wants to know exactly why Cree wants to speak with him in particular about it.

Cree stares down at the counter, idly tapping his metal finger on the wood surface that looks like it may have been polished in some long-lost era.

"Regan didn't sleep last night," he starts which grasps Colin's attention after the moment of silence. "I kept telling him to take a break, but nothing I did could convince him to stop trying to find a way to save Edith."

"We're all stressed about her situation, Tyrell. It's understandable that Regan would throw himself into working on a solution. He's the only SRL doctor here, and he knows that," Colin says.

Cree scoffs emptily and slightly shakes his head. "Of course you'd say that... After all, Regan's only human. Well, half human apparently, but still."

"What do you mean?" Colin asks, tilting his head.

Cree looks back at him over his shoulder without halting the tapping of his finger on the counter. "I mean he's not like you. Or Edith."

"You mean an SRL?"

"There you go, using that mind of yours that you wanted so fucking badly, once upon a time," Cree snaps and turns around, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms again while maintaining his glare directed at Colin.

The SRL sighs and shakes his head. "Tyrell, what is this about?"

"You're really asking that? How 'bout I spell it out for you?" Cree steps towards him and leans menacingly over the table to burn his glare deeper. His metal fist slams down on the surface in front of Colin.

"Edith. Is. Dying. In less than nine months, she is going to die," he rumbles.

"We don't know that. You said it yourself, Regan is trying to find a way to prevent—"

"Yeah, if he doesn't work himself to death in the process. And there is no way in hell I'm letting that happen," Cree states. "And if he can't find a way, then that leaves it up to time alone to determine what happens to her."

"It's her choice, Tyrell. Not ours," Colin says with a forlorn glint in his eyes.

Cree's face twists into a scowl. "And we both know that Edith would never choose her own life over her baby's. After all, she's already lost one child. But still, that doesn't change the fact that her life is on the line here."

Colin watches him push away from the table and turn around, taking a few steps away and a deep breath. "Where are you going with this?" he asks, both out of fear and of worry.