When we all agreed to limit our time on campus, I didn't consider the amount of work involved. Becca was already schooling online and Rachel's major had an equivalent e-learning program. Katherine had a good relationship with her professors and she was able to transition without a lot of fuss, but there was no off-site graduate program for pharmacology at BAU, so I had to negotiate with each of my professors, in person, before they would make an exception.
Rachel accompanied me to the campus to resign her position as RA and meet with her replacement before handing-off the responsibilities. I parked in the girls' dormitory lot so Rachel could move her belongings out of her room, and we agreed to meet up again by noon.
It didn't go as badly as I feared. I was highly motivated to make the teacher visits as brief as possible, which might have worked to my advantage because I didn't waste time coming up with weak explanations. Two of my classes transferred without drama through the department secretary and I was given an exception due to my former illness for three more. The bioethics professor, who had ironically protested my admission, was so pleased that I wouldn't be returning to her classroom that she gave me an A on the spot. The only real casualty was neurology, which offered no options or exceptions, so I regrettably had to drop the class. That left microbiology with Miss Barnes.
After my brief hiatus, surrounded by green growing things and organic designs, I marveled again at how much Tory Hall's bio lab looked like the set of a science fiction blockbuster. Kelly Barnes commanded an empty room from her desk, chewing on the end of a pencil while reading something on her tablet. I announced myself with a knock on the doorframe and she beckoned me inside.
"Mister Corwen," she said, setting her screen aside. "How have you been?"
"Hi Professor, I'm good. I was hoping I could talk to you about my work."
She sat quietly, waiting for me to continue.
"Um, I'm afraid I won't be able to attend my regular classes through the end of the year, and I was wondering if there was any way for me to finish the semester online."
"Is there a problem, Mister Corwen?"
"It's—personal."
"I see," she said, frowning slightly. "You're aware of my attendance requirement?"
"I am, and if I had a choice I'd gladly be here."
She put the end of her pencil between her teeth and stared, as if trying to deduce my secrets. "I believe you," she said finally, "but only because of your past performance. Are you certain you can't come in periodically, say, once a week?"
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, professor."
She considered me for another minute, then used her pencil to scribble something on a notepad. "Very well, I think we can work something out. You're an outstanding student, and I would be willing to waive your homework if you can show me an A or better on the two remaining tests and your final. I expect that falls easily within your reach. Does that help?"
"That would be amazing, professor, thank you!" I smiled broadly, cheering on my own luck.
"Not so fast," she said, holding up a hand. "My generosity doesn't extend to every teacher in the school. Including mine, you have lab requirements for three classes?"
"Four."
"And you have a little catching up to do."
"I know," I sighed. That was the detail I'd been dreading. The lab presented even more risk than a classroom since students tended to move around, increasing opportunities for contact. Worse, there were at least as many men as women on any given day, and the results of an hour in my company could end in far worse than doe eyes and aggressive flirting. "Would there be any way for me to come in after hours?"
She gave me a suspicious look that told me the benefit of her doubt had limits. "That's highly irregular, Mister Corwen. Forgive me for asking, but can I assume all of this is to do with your condition?"
"You could say that."
"Are you in any kind of trouble?"
"No, not exactly," I said, which was as close to an outright lie as I was willing to get. "My... personal issues are causing conflicts during the day, but I'm free after six, and having fewer people around helps."
"Do you believe you're a danger to the class?"
"No, it's not that. It's me." I sighed, and I must have looked as dejected as I felt because her expression softened. "Miss Barnes, I don't want to excuse myself from the work. I love this room, and I want to take responsibility for my grade, but I'm worried something will happen in public that could affect my whole future, not just this class. Most people aren't as understanding as you are."
I winced inwardly as I said it, thinking I'd gone too far, but her stare had lost its focus, as if she was looking at something beyond me.
"Miss Barnes?"
She came back to herself, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking at anything but me. "I understand, Tom, better than you could know, but I don't think it would be appropriate for me to give special privileges to one student, even if he is exceptional." Faintly, hesitantly, bright distortions flickered at the edges of my vision along with a lively hint of spiced apples. I needed to wrap things up quickly.
"Uh... thanks, professor, but I'm nothing special."
"You can leave your modesty at the door," she scolded. "We both know your aptitude is far above average and you've been working tirelessly since you arrived."
"That won't last long if I can't finish the semester."
"How long..." she cleared her throat, "when could you return to your regular schedule?"
"I wish I knew."
The lights in her anima were expanding at an alarming rate, sharper and wider than they'd been around anyone except the girls at Meridian, and a subtle pressure began to accumulate in the back of my mind. Not now! I thought to myself. It had never been so clear without physical contact. Professor Barnes licked her lips and began fanning herself with a folder.
"I could be persuaded, Tom, but—"
She could be persuaded. I had the means to do it. The power was there, waiting.
"Tom?"
"Sorry, professor, my mind wandered."
"Kelly is fine. I said I don't think it's a good idea. Apart from university regulations, the optics are bad."
I winced, straining to control the pressure. "What do you mean?"
"I mean it could give people the wrong impression if I were to regularly sequester myself with a student. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Professor, I have to go," I said and turned to leave.
"Tom, wait. We can figure something out," she called out, but I was halfway to the door. When I didn't slow down, she shouted firmly, "Mister Corwen!"
I halted and looked back expecting anger, but she seemed more nervous than upset.
"Tom, please understand, I just don't want to—"
A sudden twisting disrupted my illusion of control and a storm began to course through my mind. Fear had made me intensely aware, terrified of the moment it would release, and rather than try to throttle the flow, I reflexively walled it off, subverting my own thoughts as I'd done thousands of times before. Something slipped past, a brief trickle, and then the pressure receded. It was like holding back a sneeze.
Miss Barnes stumbled and braced herself against the desk. "I—ahem, yes," she said stiffly, "you—you should go. Perhaps we can discuss it later."
I answered with a curt nod and turned to leave. "Thanks Miss Barnes."
"Call me Kelly."
"You're shitting me," Rachel laughed from the driver's seat after I told her what happened.
"It was a little awkward." I braced my knees against the dashboard as she turned a corner. "But it might have been worth it."
"Just to see her expression."
"No, that part was embarrassing. I mean the part where I stopped it."
"Big news."
"It really is. I think I might be able to do it again."
"How about we don't try it while I'm doing forty in rush hour traffic?"
I allowed myself a chuckle. I still needed a solution for my lab work, but all things considered the morning had gone very well and I was in good spirits.
"I'm hungry," she announced, "let's stop for lunch."
"Who's buying?"
"You're the guy, isn't that your job?"
"Only on dates."
"It's kind of a date," she shrugged. "You might even get lucky."
I cleared my throat without answering.
"Don't shit yourself, Tom, it was a joke. I'm not asking for the D."
I sighed, trying to interpret her intentions while keeping the conversation casual. "I didn't think you were, it just caught me off guard."
"Right. You good then?" I answered with a nod, and a few miles later, Rachel pulled off the road into the parking lot of a local burger chain.
"Fatty's?" I shot her a cautious look. "You're a cheap date."
"You haven't seen how much I can order. Inside or drive-through?"
"The window would be smarter."
"That's not what I asked."
The parking lot wasn't as empty as I'd have liked, but it wasn't packed either. "I don't know, do you think you can hold off my fans?"
"Do I look like your bodyguard?"
"You sort of do, yeah."
She grinned approvingly. "Alright, boss, let's get settled."
Rachel held my hand to make it clear we were together as we ordered the food, keeping a few feet between us and the nearest customers. I was keenly aware of the looks I received, and the longer we waited the more apprehensive I became, but we made it through the line without incident, and soon squeezed into the least-exposed booth we could find.
"Boss, huh?" I asked, unpacking my sandwich.
"Don't let it go to your head."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Humans really eat this?"
"I forgot," Rachel grimaced around a mouthful. "You're still warming up to the good stuff."
"Good stuff? I asked for a Big Fatty Patty. They should have called it a bacon double-bypass burger." I peeled away the top of the bun, revealing the thick mess of cheese and bacon bits that obscured the amorphous collection of meat and grease beneath it.
Rachel restrained her laugh with a mouthful of food. "Maybe you shouldn't finish it," she garbled. "If you're not used to it you'll have the shits for a week."
I believed her, and settled for a couple of bites before pushing it away. It was very good, despite its sorry appearance. Rachel finished hers quickly and started on an order of chili fries.
"How do you have abs?"
She shrugged. "This is a ton of protein. You bulk up, lift heavy shit, then you cut. It isn't that complicated."
"How long have you been training?"
"Been running since I was a kid. Drove mom nuts. Didn't hit the weights until a few years ago though."
"It's paying off," I said with a nod of admiration.
"Doesn't make me look like a man?"
I scoffed at her. "Anyone who mistakes you for a man needs a CAT scan because they clearly have brain damage."
"Huh," she smirked. "Never thought I was big on flattery, but that was nice to hear."
"That's because it's not flattery, it's true."
"Are you flirting with me?"
I grinned and looked away, embarrassed. "It sure came out that way, didn't it? Sorry, Rach."
"You hear me complaining? It's all good, Tom, this is who we are now." She scratched at her jaw then leaned back in her seat before replying. "Speaking of—I know Kath's been trying to get more intimate with you. We talk. I doubt she's right about everything, but you know her. If she makes up her mind about something, she's already looked at it from every side and there's no way you're going to change her mind."
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Do you though?" Rachel cocked her head to one side. "Do you know how totally head over heels she is for you?"
I looked back, feeling awkward, unsure where she was taking the conversation.
"Did she tell you I almost warned you off when you two started dating? I thought you were just some skinny guy who got lucky enough to make her laugh with a good pickup line, and you were well on your way to getting hurt."
"She's not like that."
"Not on purpose, but I tried to set her up a few times since freshman year. She was always a good sport, but the guys never even got to first base and ended up leaving with a broken heart. I kept waiting for that to happen with you, but you made it a month, then two..."
I shook my head. "She never told me."
"Figured. I mean why would she? She was having the time of her life. I'd almost started thinking she was gay, then out of nowhere she's obsessed with some weird, skinny guy she met on a park bench."
"That's an exaggeration."
"It's really not."
"I meant the weird guy part. I'm pretty basic."
"Fuck you, let me be serious for a minute. She was crazy for you and after a while I figured out why. You're different."
"Mental illness and an opioid addiction will do that to you."
"That's not it, asshole," she smiled reluctantly. "Doesn't matter anyway. That woman was all set to marry you, move to a house in the suburbs, and give you a dozen crotch goblins before all this shit went down. She ain't faking it."
"I didn't think she was, Rachel."
"Then consider that when she opens up to you, especially when she lets go of something that belongs to her. I can promise that you want to kiss me a lot more than she wants you to, and she's so goddamn strong to just let..." Rachel struggled with her expression for a moment. "Ah, shit!" she muttered and wiped at her eye. "This is your fault. I fucking cry at everything anymore."
I reached out and took her hand, and she didn't pull away. "First of all," I said, "you don't cry at everything. Teagan Harvey does."
That brought a quick laugh. "Kath tell you about that?"
"The famous movie night binging on wine coolers in the freshman common room? Everyone's heard that one."
"It's a good thing that girl can laugh about it because she's never going to live it down. Okay, smartass, I see what you did." She took a breath and squeezed my hand in return. "I think you should sleep with her."
"Who, Teagan?"
"You're gonna get hurt if you keep that up."
I sighed. "Rach, this power isn't a toy, my dad uses it to kill people."
"Yeah, I remember," she said, stiffening again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't—look, I know you mean well but there's no off switch for this, and I can't undo my mistakes. I'll do anything to keep from hurting her, or any one of you."
"But that's not how your thing works, is it? It only hurts when you back off."
If the ground opened up to swallow me at that moment I might not have noticed. I first felt anger that she'd pick those words to throw in my face, but the fire had no fuel and it immediately died.
"Sorry, Tom," Rachel said quietly. "I have a big mouth."
Rather than answer, I leaned over the table and kissed her. It wasn't a big, showy thing, or illicit, or even clinical, but it was intensely personal in a way. Visceral.
"Not that I mind, but are you okay?" she asked after I sat back down.
I nodded, "Yeah."
"You gonna tell me what that was for?"
"Just thanks," I said. "I don't have map or a compass. I can't even see the road through all this fog, so all I can do is follow the brightest light."
"Cute metaphor, but if you try to tell me I'm your light I swear I'll throat punch you."
"No, that's not what I meant. I haven't really been following anything, just letting myself get pushed around by people and circumstances. I need to start looking for that light instead of staring at my feet."
"It hasn't worked out too bad so far. Have you seen our new digs?"
"The people who fixed up Meridian aren't here anymore, it's just us. I need to start paying attention or I'm just going to keep stumbling around in the dark and feeling sorry for myself. I need people to kick my ass when I forget that. So—thanks."
"You're a big picture guy, Tom, but you're not running solo anymore. We need you, and not just for your tongue. I was making sure you still saw her." Rachel let go of my hand, collected her trash, and slid out of the booth. "You're welcome though, if anything I said actually helped."