for olivia

[sharpshooting]

John didn't make a habit of going up to the second floor of Sick Bay too often. Deserted more often than not, its quiet was sometimes eerie. There, more than almost anywhere else (except for some of the rooms in the Labyrinth, which he made an especial point of avoiding) he found himself imagining the station's former inhabitants, the uses to which they'd put the space, what some of the machines had been needed for.

Some, like the self-surgery pod, he no longer needed to imagine. Thanks to the facehuggers, he'd now had a chance to see it in lurid action-- and to thank their captors for its existence, as there was no way they'd have been able to save Santana without it.

But finding Olivia standing beside the pod, wearing a quizzical expression as she inspected it (carefully, without touching; he was impressed) set the memory at a good enough remove that he was able to approach her with a genuine smile on his face.

"Bit creepy, isn't it?" he observed wryly as her eyes lifted to his.

Comments

[seekanswers]

Olivia shook her head, "Not exactly. Just--the idea of it."

She thought maybe she remembered sketches in some of Walter's old files. It was something he'd dream up, anyway. Something just out of reach of modern science, just beyond the modern imagination. John hadn't so much confirmed a suspicion as brought the image into focus.

"How does it interface?"