Chapter 2
-Roselle and Miranda's Office-
The hum of the fluorescent lights in their shared office was almost soothing—soft enough to allow concentration, but constant enough to fill the silence between them. The room itself was a far cry from the sterile corridors of the lower laboratories, filled with sleek, modern furniture and high-tech monitors. Still, despite the advanced equipment and organized shelves of scientific journals, a strange tension lingered in the air, something that hadn’t been present before Roselle had entered Miranda’s life.
It had been a week since their first official day as lab partners. Over that time, their work had progressed at an astonishing pace. The theories Roselle had proposed were groundbreaking, and the results they had started to see—while still experimental—were more promising than any other attempt at stabilizing the Cadou.
But the work, as important as it was, wasn’t what had Miranda so preoccupied.
It was her.
Roselle’s presence had quickly become impossible to ignore. Their shared office, once a place for solitary reflection and meticulous planning, now felt... different. The space was smaller, more intimate than Miranda was used to, and Roselle’s scent—subtle but unmistakable—lingered in the air. It was the kind of scent that was both calming and stimulating, an odd mix of lavender and something slightly sharp.
Miranda could no longer go a day without noticing it. And it irritated her.
Her eyes flicked across the desk to where Roselle sat, focused on her work, the soft clicking of keys on the keyboard blending with the low buzz of the lights. Roselle’s posture was perfect, every movement deliberate, her green eyes fixed on the screen as she analyzed data.
Miranda couldn’t help but watch her. The way Roselle’s hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, how her fingers danced across the keyboard with a precision that bordered on grace—it was all so… unnatural for someone like Miranda.
She had spent so long in isolation, so focused on her research, that the idea of sharing her space, her thoughts, her life, with someone else felt… strange.
Yet, it was undeniable. There was something about Roselle that captivated her. The way Roselle spoke, how she thought outside of the rigid scientific boundaries most of The Connections adhered to, it was refreshing. And when their eyes met, when they exchanged thoughts on their work or on the occasional mundane topic—Miranda couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so… understood.
"You’ve been quiet," Roselle’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her from her reverie. "Is something on your mind?"
Miranda blinked, momentarily disoriented. Roselle had glanced up from her screen, her gaze steady but inquisitive, a slight furrow in her brow.
Miranda shifted in her chair, leaning back slightly. "I was just thinking about the next phase of the experiment. We’ll need more test subjects if we’re to continue at this rate."
Roselle nodded, returning to her work, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor. "Are you sure that’s the only thing on your mind?"
Miranda narrowed her eyes. "I don’t know what you mean."
Roselle’s lips quirked into a small smile, one that held a knowing quality. "You’ve been staring at me for the last five minutes, Miranda. You do know what I mean."
Miranda’s heart skipped a beat. Had she really been so obvious? She didn’t like this feeling of vulnerability, of being caught off guard. "I was merely observing your work," she said coolly, forcing her usual composure back into place.
Roselle didn’t press further, but her smile lingered, her green eyes gleaming with something just shy of amusement. There was something about the way she carried herself—a calm confidence that made Miranda uneasy, despite the fact that she admired it.
The silence that followed was different now, charged with an underlying tension that neither of them addressed. But neither of them seemed uncomfortable with it, either.
Miranda stood up abruptly, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor breaking the stillness. "I’m going to retrieve some samples from the cryogenic storage. You should begin analyzing the latest data on the Cadou mutation rate."
Roselle gave a soft nod, her attention already back on the screen in front of her. "Of course. I’ll continue the analysis. We need a better understanding of the mutation threshold if we’re going to stabilize the biological response."
"Good." Miranda hesitated, then added, "I’ll be back shortly."
She didn’t wait for a response, exiting the office in a brisk motion. She needed space. Distance. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to become distracted.
-The Lab’s Cryogenic Storage Unit-
The air inside the cryogenic storage room was frigid, the low hum of the refrigeration units reverberating through the walls. Miranda moved swiftly, her lab coat billowing slightly with each purposeful stride. She needed to retrieve the latest batch of Cadou-infused embryos, the only viable candidates for further testing.
She had worked tirelessly for years, refining her methods, perfecting the techniques needed to bring her daughter back. And Roselle… Roselle had been a crucial factor in accelerating their progress.
But there was something that didn’t sit right with Miranda. The closer she grew to Roselle, the more she found herself distracted. It was like every moment she spent with the other woman made her mind race, as if Roselle was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.
Was this the humanity she had tried so hard to suppress? The emotional vulnerability she had pushed aside for decades, in favor of science and her unrelenting pursuit of resurrection?
Miranda couldn’t afford distractions.
As she retrieved the embryos from the refrigerated storage unit, her mind wandered back to the shared office. Roselle’s voice, calm and precise, seemed to echo in her ears. You’ve been quiet... Is something on your mind?
Was she truly trying to understand her? Or was this simply the way she conducted herself with everyone?
The freezing cold of the storage room seemed to bite at her skin, but Miranda barely noticed. Her thoughts were consumed by one singular question: Why couldn’t she push Roselle out of her mind?
-Later that Night - Shared Office-
Miranda returned to the office to find Roselle still at her desk, engrossed in her work. The soft glow of the monitor illuminated her face, highlighting her sharp features and the faint flush of her cheeks from hours spent analyzing data.
For a moment, Miranda stood in the doorway, observing her without speaking. The air between them had changed since their first days working together. There was a quiet familiarity now, something that had settled in place of the tension. And yet, there was still that underlying pull—something more than just professional respect.
Roselle looked up as Miranda entered, her expression neutral, but there was something in her gaze that made Miranda’s heart beat a little faster.
"You’re back early," Roselle remarked.
"I needed a break," Miranda replied curtly, setting the cryogenic samples down on the desk with deliberate care.
Roselle glanced at the samples, then at Miranda. "I see."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of their breathing filled the room, as if they were both waiting for something to break the silence.
Finally, Roselle stood, crossing the room to stand beside Miranda. She was closer than usual, and Miranda could feel the warmth of her presence even though they hadn’t touched.
Roselle spoke, her voice low but steady. "Miranda, I know you’re used to doing things alone. But I’m here now. If you need someone to share the burden, I’m not going anywhere."
Miranda’s chest tightened, her heart betraying her calm exterior. She met Roselle’s gaze, searching for some hidden meaning behind the words. But there was nothing—only sincerity.
For the first time in years, Miranda wondered if she was ready to share her life. To share the weight of her burden with someone else.
"Perhaps," Miranda began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I could use a partner."
Roselle’s eyes softened, the slightest smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I thought you might say that."
The silence between them lingered, but it was no longer filled with tension—it was something else, something unspoken. For once, Miranda wasn’t thinking about Cadou mutations or genetic sequencing. She wasn’t running through calculations in her mind or considering the next step in her experiment to resurrect Eva.
Instead, she was focused on the woman standing in front of her.
Roselle.
It unsettled her how aware she had become of her new lab partner in such a short time. Miranda had spent decades surrounded by mindless acolytes and arrogant scientists, people who either feared her or sought her knowledge for their own gain. She had learned not to care, not to let anyone past the cold, calculating exterior she had meticulously built.
But Roselle was different.
She was competent, independent, and intelligent, but it was more than that. She carried herself with a quiet strength, a certainty that Miranda found herself drawn to.
Perhaps that was what made her so dangerous.
Roselle’s eyes remained locked onto Miranda’s, her expression unreadable. The warmth of her presence was too close, yet Miranda didn’t move away. If anything, she felt herself rooted in place, caught in something she couldn’t quite define.
“You say you could use a partner,” Roselle murmured, tilting her head slightly. “Does that mean you’re finally starting to trust me?”
Miranda’s lips parted, but no immediate answer came. Did she trust Roselle? The logical answer was no. Trust was a liability—she had learned that long ago. But logic didn’t explain why she had chosen to share her office, why she found herself listening so intently when Roselle spoke, or why she felt the urge to understand the woman in ways that had nothing to do with science.
“I suppose that depends,” Miranda finally said, her voice even. “Trust is earned, not given.”
Roselle hummed, as if considering the response. Then, to Miranda’s mild surprise, she took another step closer, reducing what little space remained between them. “And have I not earned it yet?”
Miranda inhaled sharply. She could see every detail of Roselle’s face now—the delicate arch of her brows, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way the light reflected in her green eyes.
It was a dangerous game they were playing, though neither of them had spoken outright about it.
She could have stepped away. Should have, perhaps. Instead, Miranda found herself testing the boundaries of whatever this was.
“You’ve earned my respect,” Miranda admitted, her voice softer than she intended. “That is not something I grant easily.”
Roselle’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, as if she had won some unspoken battle. “That’s a start.”
The weight of the moment settled between them, thick and heavy. Miranda could feel it pressing against her chest, demanding acknowledgment.
She had spent a century devoted solely to one thing: bringing Eva back. Every action, every decision, had been made in pursuit of that goal. But now, for the first time, something else was beginning to take up space in her mind.
A distraction. A temptation.
Miranda clenched her jaw. She couldn’t afford this.
Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel, striding back toward her desk. “We have work to do,” she said, her tone cool and measured, as if the last few minutes had never happened.
If Roselle was surprised by the abrupt shift, she didn’t show it. Instead, she simply nodded, stepping back to her own workstation.
But Miranda didn’t miss the way Roselle’s gaze lingered on her before she turned away.
And despite herself, Miranda found that she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted to be.