T r a n s c r i p t

The Adam Project - Adam Meets Adam

"Yeah, you said that already," Young Adam reminded him.

"Well it bear-" his wound let loose another fresh spurt of blood as he shifted in his discomposure, and he choked on the pain as he pulled up his jacket to check that the shirt had indeed darkened. "Dammit," he cursed. "Ach-It," he stumbled on the words again, and forced out in a near whisper, "...bears repeating."

"That's a lot of blood," the kid said, staring at the wound, dumbstruck. Adam pressed his jacket over it.

"Well, I-uh have so much more in my body. Where's your mother?"

Young Adam frowned at the question. "On a date?"

The blood loss was messing with Adam, and he struggled to concentrate. Facts, he needed more facts to figure out where - when - he was. "With who?"

"What?" the kid asked, bewildered.

"With. Who? What's his name?"

"I dunno, Derek?"

"Derek," Adam repeated, mystified, scouring his memory for the face, any face to fit that name. "Derek. Derek, Derek, Derek, yes, that's the guy with the um, with the mouth mullet."
"Goatee?"

Adam forced back a smile, remembering that stupid beard. "Yeah."

"So, say goatee."

Then Adam remembered that this dude never came that close to his mother. "Ah, he doesn't matter."

The kid didn't miss a beat. "None of them do," he said dully.

There was a moment of silence as they studied each other, after this strange exchange of conversation. Young Adam's eyes fell on Hawking, whose head was in Adam's lap as he got his ears scratched. The dog was utterly calm, enjoying getting petted. He sensed no danger. Adam smirked, meeting the kid's gaze. "Nice dog."

Young Adam didn't smile, and Hawking lifted his head, sensing his owner's unease, but didn't move towards him. The meaning of the boy's glare was clear: traitor. Adam rested for one more moment, then decided that enough time - oh, what a joke - had been wasted. Now, to fix this latest screwup.

Adam rose quickly, causing the kid to flinch back hard, and Hawking calmly rounded the table towards his owner. "I'm gonna go inside the house," he stated, grabbing his duffel. "Gonna get some stuff." He noticed the kid once more bouncing on his feet, readying his swing as he gripped the bat tighter, and licked his lips in concentration. "Be careful with that," Adam warned as he made his way to the door.

The kid didn't listen, and swung. Adam swatted it aside to lessen the force, grabbed it, spun it out of the boy's grasp, and sent it flying outside into the dark without turning around as he exited. "Stay here," he grunted, leaving his younger self speechless and staring.

—

Adam stepped into the kitchen, knowing full well just how annoying - and recklessly stupid - his younger self could be and that he wasn't going to be left alone for long. He dumped his duffel on the island counter and unlocked his harness, tossing it on the floor before turning to the fridge. He selected an apple and shoved the door shut, catching a glimpse of curly golden hair shining in the room's dim light, as he remembered that the fridge door hung open on its loose hinge and kicked it shut after he bit into the fruit.

He'd been right. He felt the kid's gaze burning into his neck as he hopefully opened the cardboard pizza box on the counter, only to discover it empty. "Ah, come on," he groaned softly, and then felt his injury throb.

Adam heard the nearly indiscernible, tense steps behind him. Pressing a hand to his side, he walked to the end of the kitchen, pulled a dishtowel out of a drawer, and started to unzip his jacket. "Told you to stay in the garage," he grumbled.