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Philippe sat down, abandoning for the moment his attempts to force a confrontation. But he'd try again. The same persistent attention to detail that made him such a valuable administrator made him an infuriatingly obstinate opponent for a disagreement.
The last two department heads responded to the reverberating tension by whizzing through their presentations in record time. As soon as they finished, the meeting disbanded, with department heads jostling each other to be first out the door. Not one stayed behind to argue for more funding or resources.
Philippe waited until the door closed behind the last researcher, then resumed his attack. "I told you that woman was getting to you. You're paying more attention to her than to the business of the Institute."
"A business you're sabotaging. Why didn't you tell me about the elevator? Someone could have been hurt. Would you have told me then?"
"Would you have cared? Admit it, you've gotten what you wanted out of this place. They bought Gillian more time."
"That's not what I wanted," Desmond snapped.
"You didn't want them to help her?"
"No!" Desmond took a deep breath, and struggled to regain his composure. "I mean, of course I wanted them to help her. But that wasn't why I originally started this venture. I started it to find a cure for us. And I'll keep the Institute going until they do."
"Yeah, well, that'll be mighty hard to do when we're both dead."
"Philippe— "
"You just don't get it, do you? No matter what she says now, as soon as she finds out what you are, she'll turn on you. If you're lucky, she'll just leave and not try to kill you, or expose us so others can kill us."
"She won't— "
"Yes, she will."
"Don't judge Rebecca by the standards of your wife! She won't turn her back on our relationship. She won't turn her back on me."
Philippe snorted and gathered up his presentation. "You owe me vacation days. Well, I'm taking them. Now. I refuse to work for you when you're so irrational. But I'll make sure you know where I am. So you'll have no trouble finding me to apologize when she leaves you."
"Go to hell."
"I've already been there." Philippe stalked off, slamming the conference room door on his way out.
Desmond returned to his own office, hoping Philippe might cool off and see reason. But when the Assistant Director of Operations showed up later that morning with the division's follow-up paperwork, she confirmed that Philippe had gone.
Desmond gave the papers only a cursory glance before carving his signature across the bottom of them. He pushed the signed authorizations back across his desk to her. "You know what all of these are for?"
"Yes." She picked up the pile and stuffed the papers into her already overflowing briefcase. "Philippe and I discussed all the open action items yesterday, when we reviewed his presentation for today's meeting."
"Good." He paused, not sure how to phrase his question without offending her. "Philippe left suddenly. Will you be able to absorb the additional workload?"
"Of course." She straightened, indignant that he dared to question her capability. He didn't try to defend his question, only looked concerned, and she relaxed with a laugh. "You're right. It won't be easy. But I've got a great staff who can pick up parts of my job while I do his. Although...."
"Yes?"
"I know we've asked for a lot this month already," she blurted out in a rush, "but if you could just authorize some discretionary award money? They'll be putting in a lot of overtime on this. I'd like to give them a little bonus, as a way of saying thank you."
"Of course." He should have thought of that. This fight with Philippe had gotten to him. "Just tell me who and how much, and I'll authorize it."
Desmond smiled. If she asked for too much, he could always take it out of Philippe's check. He deserved it for running out on them like this.
She thanked Desmond and left. He glanced at his watch, and discovered it was already eleven. He didn't have anything urgent to keep him in the office. If he left now, he'd have three hours with Gillian before he had to return.
Desmond smiled as he locked up his desk. Honesty forced him to admit Gillian wasn't the only one he was looking forward to seeing.
When he opened his front door, Gillian didn't run to greet him. He hoped she was busy, and not angry with him for leaving her earlier. It hadn't been that long ago when she'd throw tantrums over the slightest change to her schedule. He thought she'd outgrown that, but he wasn't sure.
He walked inside, and was relieved to see Gillian and Mrs. Waters engrossed in a brightly colored game spread across the coffee table. Candyland, it looked like. Gillian looked up and smiled, then turned her attention back to the game.
