Whatever It Takes {Two | Alaric Saltzman}

True Lies

Abigail could hear Caroline and Elena talking about Megan's memorial from down the hall, and although she wasn't surprised by either of their tones, she was surprised that they hadn't been among the students laying flowers. She had as she passed the framed photo and lit candles. Lilies. The flower of sympathy.

She pushed open Caroline's door. "Morning."

"Where have you been?" Elena asked.

"I went to the hospital after I talked to Tyler-"

"You talked to Tyler?" Caroline whipped around, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay, wow! He's deferring from enrolling and deferring from returning my phone calls, so I'm deferring from having sex with him ever again."

"Sorry." She held up a folder. "Megan's death certificate says she died of a suicide. No mention of the gaping vampire-bites on her neck. Which means whoever signed off on the cause of death was part of the cover up, just like the Council in Mystic Falls."

"So," Elena started, "who signed off on it?"

"Dr. Wesley Maxfield, M.D., Ph.D., University Researcher, and your Applied Microbiology professor." She shrugged. "I switched your classes around. Congrats, you're one step closer to being a doctor."

Caroline laughed. "See, that's why you choose a fun major the first time around."

"Abigail, how am I supposed to get any information out of him if he thinks I'm an idiot?"

"Well, Elena, that's not the plan." She didn't give either of them time to ask questions, not that her expression welcomed any. "The plan is you are going to be the fly on the wall, Caroline is going to befriend Jesse, no matter how much she doesn't want to, because he's Maxfield's lab assistant, and I am going to get information out of him."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I don't know yet."

Office hours. A time to meet with professors to discuss what was being presented in class or other related interests. And, well, Dr. Wes Maxfield and Abigail Gilbert had something in common. So, she found herself at his open office door.

He looked up as soon as she knocked. "Abigail, please come in."

"Hi, Dr. Maxfield." She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "I-"

"You know, your sister and her friend got kicked out of my Applied Microbiology class today." She let out a fake laugh when he paused for what he expected to be a natural one. "At the very least, they got to hear the story of this bonfire tonight. You know, Whitmore was founded as a hospital during the Civil War. It was-"

"The deadliest war in American history: over 600,000 casualties," she cut him off. "And here disease was so prevalent that once a week they had to gather all the dead, rotting bodies, put them in a pile, and light it on fire."

He was sitting upright in his chair, so proper, so rigid. "Tell me, why does someone who knows so much choose to study the occult rather than history?"

"Well, that's simple really." She was still sitting slightly hunched over, even as she caught onto something under his façade. "I like to seek knowledge that lies outside of the range of normal experience or scientific explanation. Of a deeper spiritual reality."

"Well, I'm a man of science."

"Which brings us to my father."

He sighed, dropping his expression but not his posture. "Let's start with the most pressing of your questions then, shall we?"

"Did he forge death certificates, too?"

He stood up, rounded the desk, and stopped in front of his half stocked bookshelf. "And here I thought we were getting to know each other."