Eros and Cats Labyrinth

{{ Sparrow-Magenta
Lydia-darkorchid
Dr. Stevenson/Rowdy- Steel Blue
Emily Swan- Orange
Cassandra- pink }}



Lying in bed that Monday morning, Sparrow was wide-awake. She had been since about 2AM, when the dreams came again. Except it wasn’t really a dream. It was a horrifying memory that took the person who owned her heart away from her. He had died, and Sparrow had been left shattered. He was the second boyfriend she’d ever had, and the second boyfriend to die. The first had been through an overdose while she was in high school, and this one had been an accident on a rainy night. She had watched him die, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to survive it. Somehow, although it had darkened the once chipper Sparrow, she had survived, and continued on with her daily life. She moved out of the house they had shared after the accident, knowing she couldn’t live in the house she wanted to marry him in. She moved into a small, one bedroom apartment, and took a fairly solid vow that she would never be dating again.

The solution worked until she had seen him again, alive and well. The impossibility of it nearly broke her human brain, as she simply couldn’t understand. She would also be the first to tell you that she did not handle that right. She wanted him so badly, but she couldn’t be with him anymore, and had to walk away. That was almost four years ago. Now, the once sunny girl was darkened. It didn’t completely consume and crush anymore, not since this one really drunken night with her vampire friend, Lydia, and a lot of the time, she was mostly okay, but some days still hurt worse than others.

Today was one of those days, as she watched the clock creep by in the darkness of the room. One hour, then the next, then the next. Finally, after ignoring her alarm for 15 minutes, she made herself move out of the bed. She let out a long sigh as she looked around the room that never really got unpacked. It wasn’t dirty, but she had been in this constant state between leaving and staying. She got up, went to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Normally, she would sing during this process, but the songbird had been quiet for a long time. While it brewed, she moved herself into the shower, and let the hot water try to wash away the edges of the dream. She shook it off the best she could, but as she wrapped herself in a towel to move into her bedroom, she realized she needed more.

Sparrow was, by trade and schooling, a grief and addictions counsellor. She was very good at what she did, but she knew she wasn’t giving 100% of herself to her patients the way they deserved. She had taken a long vacation after her boyfriend’s death, but she was never quite right again. As she looked at herself in the mirror once she was dressed, she could see the signs of it. She could see the signs she often saw in the patients hiding pain. The problem was, Sparrow, in all the years since, had never talked about it. Unless she was hammered, she never let her own grief out. That meant it was stuck inside where it had been festering. Which, she thought as she stared at herself in the mirror, was exactly what she told her patients not to do. “You’re breaking your own rules, kid.’ She said to herself quietly. “And that’s not fair.” But talking to herself wasn’t going to get her anywhere, because it was all too easy to justify staying there.

With that thought, Sparrow finished getting ready and went to pour herself the coffee. She picked up her keys and bag, and paused there as she looked around the little apartment. In her head, she could hear this little voice that was begging her to find herself, to live. Maybe, she thought, it was time to start listening. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the apartment, and walked down to her car. She chose the scenic route that morning, trying to get even a drop of inspiration on the way there. The morning was pretty, the streets were still relatively quiet, and Sparrow’s mind was at work. She had an idea by the time she got there, and let it form as she moved up the stairs towards her office. She opened the door, blowing out a breath as she looked around the room. She spent the first bit of time in her office getting it ready, dusting off the couch, wiping down the counters, booting up her computer, setting up the light snacks she knew her patients liked. The only thing she didn’t touch was the guitar in the corner, as she hadn’t touched that in years. She barely even looked at it anymore.

Once she was done setting up, she first made sure the plans she had made the previous week were perfect, and once she was satisfied, she sat down to draw up her new plan. A new type of group therapy, targeted directly towards hidden grief. It would take some time to put together, but as the morning rolled on, and it was time to get another coffee, she had the lightest of smiles on her face.

As expected, when Sparrow hit the bottom of the stairs, there stood a familiar, tall, white-haired beautiful, gothic woman in a labcoat, a short black dress, and boots that went up to her thighs. “Tell me, were you planning on checking on patients, or...’ The Australian’s eyes looked her up and down, eyeing her legs a little. “Creating them?”

Upon hearing her friend come down the stairs, that white-haired woman turned at her comment, grinned, and posed. “Oh come on, look at these boots. They are fabulous. I couldn’t leave them all alone in the closet. That’s just a crime.”

“Those legs are a crime, Lydia. Do you know how many times I’ve heard about your legs last week? Thankfully, not wrapped around the student’s waists.” She added in a mutter, but she knew Lydia would hear it.

“I resent that. A little!” Lydia hissed back at her, before both women laughed. “What are you doing down here? Coffee?” Lydia asked as she sipped something from a cup that Sparrow knew would be bright, bright red.

“Yeah. Rough morning. Sparrow admitted as the two walked down the hall. “But I have an idea that might help.”

Lydia was intrigued by this, and tilted her head at the other woman. “Oh? And what is that?”

Sparrow smiled a little, but the smile told Lydia that she wasn’t about to reveal her plans. “You’ll see. Gotta run for now.” She bid the doctor goodbye as she moved down the hallway that would take her out and across campus to the cafeteria.

The alarm sounded at 4am, an irritating beeping that sounded like something from a clock radio from the 80s. A large hand shot out from underneath the blankets and smacked the phone screen. Unfortunately, smacking randomly on the phone screen never rendered the beeping to stop. With a frustrated groan a tussled mop of sun kissed, dirty blonde hair emerged from under the blanket as pale blue eyes squinted at the noisy phone on the bedside table. He stopped the red X and swiped it. His head fell back down onto his pillow, face first, as he groaned at himself. He pulled his knees up under him, causing his butt to stick up in the air. He sighed and used the protruding arm to push the blankets off him the rest of the way to reveal his naked form. He, quite literally, rolled out of his bed and landed, feet first, on the floor. He stretched, lifting both his arms over his head as he reached as high as he could, even going up on the balls of his feet. He released the stretch and let his arms fall to his sides, swinging a little. “Why do I hate myself?” he said as he lifted his hands to rub his eyes and massage his cheeks a little.

Dr. Kevin Stevenson had moved to this quaint college town about six months ago after he had graduated from University of St. Andrews in St. Andrews, Scotland. He had studied there for his undergraduate degree, masters, and eventually a doctorate in literature. He specialized in mythology and folklore, but also had a desperate love affair with the classics. For his doctoral thesis, he explored how introducing to a class of student’s books that had corresponding films and seeing if, by interesting them in the movie, would they read the book. His results determined that eighty percent would seek out the book while twenty percent would be satisfied with the movie alone. It was this thesis that caused an American University to reach out to him and offer him a position as a full-time professor. After terms were set that he would be able to teach a mythology class, a folklore of the world class, and class on Renaissance and Romantic poetry, and the much anticipated – Books vs Film class, he signed the contract and got ready to move to the United States.

He headed to the bathroom to relieve himself and grabbed a pair of shorts to pull on. With his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, he wandered still half asleep out of his bedroom and towards his study. He stopped by the kitchen to spit out the foamy toothpaste, swish some water around in his mouth, and deposit the toothbrush into a glass next to the sink. He then set the coffeepot to brew before heading into his office. He dropped down into his leather chair and tapped the spacebar of his computer. The machine came to life as the screens flickered from black to his screensaver, which was a picture of a sea wolf hunting salmon in a clear, rushing river. He touched the mouse, and the picture disappeared to reveal the test he had been writing the evening before. He had abandoned it to go for a run and now he was paying the price. He rested his elbows on the desk and ran his fingers through his wild hair as he tried to make himself concentrate. “C’mon brain. Time to work.” He sniffed a few times, opened his eyes wide for a second, yawned and then started typing. He paused after working for five minutes to get a cup of Joe to make this a little more tolerable. Two cups of coffee later and he was racing through the content. And…finished. He quickly pulled up his email and sent a copy to the Teaching Assistant with a request to print fifty copies and have them sorted, stapled, and ready to go before his first class started at 9am.

He pushed back from his desk and looked at the clock on the wall. 5:45am. No use going back to sleep, his normal alarm would be sounding off in fifteen minutes. He shuffled into the bedroom and stepped into his trainers. He finished off his coffee and traded his mug for a sports bottle of water and headed out for an hour run. 7am on the tick, he was back home and climbing into the shower. When he was finished, he dried off and started his transformation into a college professor. He tamed his hair with some hair gel and combed it back, away from his face. He shaved, getting rid of the days growth that made his face rough and scratchy. He went into his closet and pulled on some plain black socks, grey suit trousers, a white button up shirt, which he covered up with a grey sweater vest the same color as his pants, a grey suit jacket and stepped into some black dress shoes. The finial touch to his professional look was a pair of glasses. He didn’t need glasses at all. His vision was impeccable. But he thought the glasses softened him. He looked in the mirror, “Hello there, Clark Kent.” He winked playfully at himself and turned away from the mirror. He grabbed his leather briefcase and headed out.

He went into his garage and sighed. His eyes fell upon the vintage Harley Davidson that called to his rebel side. He started to approach the bike, but steered away and, instead, opened the driver’s side door of a cobalt blue Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Wide Redeye. It was still not what you would expect a professor to be pulling up to work in, but it would be better received than the Harley. The engine roared to life as he opened the garage door. He only lives about five miles from campus, so it only took him about ten minutes from garage doors to parking spot. He parked, grabbed his briefcase and headed to the Administration Building where all the staff offices were. He entered the building and immediately spotted Dr. de Bonvouloir. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up. She always made his inner beast growl. He hung back from heading upstairs, taking a moment to look at the bulletin board so Dr. de Bonvouloir could go about her way. But she was met by Dr. Baxley, who officed down the hall from him. Knowing the two of them would probably take their time with their chat, he headed to the stairs. “Excuse me,” he said in a loud whisper, clearly not trying not to interrupt their conversation. He scooted around both of them and headed up to his office. He placed his briefcase down on his desk and pulled out his notes for his classes that day. He turned on his computer and had a confirmation email from his Teaching Assistant that the tests would be ready to go. He reviewed his lesson plans and notes for about forty-five minutes, updating his PowerPoint slides as needed. With everything virtual, he only needed to take himself to class. He would be able to log onto his profile from the different classrooms and pull up what he needed for each class. He stepped out of his office and locked it behind him. He then headed down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the Admin Building. He walked across the campus, debating whether he wanted another cup of coffee or a quick breakfast. Decisions. Decisions.

Lydia heard Dr. Stevenson long before he entered the building. His was a heart-beat she memorized the very first time she had seen him. He always made her spine straighten, her senses alert,and the demon inside snarl, but he had never caused a problem. Her sharp, sharp eyes looked at him as he moved towards them, but he only politely moved around them, her face remaining a classic look of disinterest. She said nothing, but her deadly eyes followed him up the stairs as she did each time she saw him.

Sparrow, focused on her new idea, was unaware of him until his loud whisper, but she turned to look at him, moving out of the way. She smiled softly as he passed, but like the past four years, it didn't reach her eyes. “Doctor.” She greeted lightly. She didn’t have much interaction with Doctor Stevenson, except the fact that their offices were only down the hall from each other. Other than that and occasionally seeing him in the halls, she didn’t know or have a friendship with the man. She waited until he moved away from them, then realized she had to run, which turned her in the other direction. She moved across the campus to the cafeteria to grab a coffee, but with the idea moving around her brain, left the building without something to eat. Sipping the hot liquid gave the emptiness inside a bit of warmth, but she ignored that as she moved towards the Admin Building. When she got there, she requested a meeting with her boss, where she pitched the idea. A new type of group. The group was directed towards hidden grief. The non-obvious kind that lived within a person, and it often changed into depression, or rage, anxiety, or a subset of any. The group was designed as a safe space where people could express their feelings with someone else who felt the same way. Not everyone was comfortable in a one on one session, but sometimes, people did well with others. She planned to focus on emotional regulation, and control. She planned on focusing on ways to unlock and let go of that pain, so it no longer affected daily life. “Everybody has hidden pain, and for a lot of us, that pain controls what we do, how we think, how we act, but if we’re able to really dig into it with maybe someone else who understands what that is like in an area of control with professionals, who knows what could happen.” She was saying, her body more animated the longer she spoke. ”I’d like to start small, lay some flyers around, see if there’s any general interest in it, but if there is, and it works, eventually, I’d like to expand it, maybe bring in other therapists too.” She paused to breathe there, and her body went still again. “So, what do you think?”

While she spoke, Sparrow’s boss, an beautiful, blonde woman of about 60 watched the small brunette through sharp blue eyes. Doctor Sparrow Baxley was one of the brightest therapists she had ever seen, and her very nature demanded that people want to share. She was razor-sharp smart, friendly, beautiful, and compassionate. She was also young, and had a long career in the field if she wanted it. But she had been so damaged these last years that, while she had still been doing excellent work in her sessions, she had almost lost that edge that made her so special. Dr. Emily Swan had to hide the smile as she watched a touch of that passion move into Sparrow’s honey-brown eyes. Dr. Swan also took note of a very key phrase she had said. ‘Us’ She had said, meaning that she was nearly ready to deal with her own heart. Dr. Swan took a moment to study Dr. Baxley, collecting her thoughts as she lowered that hands that had been hiding her smile. “I think it’s brilliant, Doctor. And worth a try. Write me up a detailed report, on my desk by tomorrow at 8, but you may begin your set-up, and your flyers, before or after any appointment on your books.”

Sparrow smiled then, and nodded to her. “Yes ma’am. Thank you, Doctor.” Sparrow sighed gently, and walked out of the office, leaving Dr. Swan to ponder about the young woman. She made a note to watch how the group was going, and how Sparrow would handle it.

Having gotten approval, Sparrow then made her way to the library, where she secured use of one of the conference rooms for Thursday nights, and the graphics department. She spent a good bit of time with the student designers, making the perfect flyer for what she wanted to do. She had finished the coffee by the time that the flyer was perfected, detailing what the group was about, and that it would be held in the conference room B in the Library building. After that, she stopped by the bathroom, realizing she hadn’t peed yet today, and once she was finished and her hands were washed and dried, she started papering the school.

She went with about 50 to begin, and left them outside all major resident halls, lecture halls, the library buildings, and in the cafeteria bulletin board. Proud of herself, she checked the time, and seeing still an hour before her first session, she left the last place she had hung one, near the Admin building, and for the first time in months, actually felt hunger touch her stomach. She almost looked surprised as she looked down at herself, moving across the campus back towards the cafeteria. Blowing out a breath, she looked up again, and saw a student staring hard at something. Curious, she followed the girl’s line of vision, and followed it over to where Doctor Stevenson was walking across campus. She looked between the two a couple times to confirm, but she recognized, even from where she was standing, the flush on the girl’s face. Sighing softly, and with a shake of her head, Sparrow moved over to the girl. “Now, the only reason I can think you’d be standing here in the morning after class has started is you’re lost or you’re sick. And I know you’re not lost, Cassandra.”

Cassie jumped like a rabbit as her eyes were ripped from the smoking-hot professor walking across campus, and turned to the school’s counsellor. “No, Doctor. I was just..”

“Earning yourself a late marking in your morning class?” Sparrow asked as she tilted her head at the young woman. When Cassie stuttered, Sparrow nodded, and hummed a bit. “I didn’t think so. Off we go now. And maybe come see me later. We’ll talk about...this.” Sparrow indictated where Cassie had been looking, and the girl went bright red as she quickly turned and scampered off. ”Girls.’She muttered as she watched Cassandra run off, but without a hint of judgement. She remembered what it was like to be crushing on a guy, especially one you could never have. The way it felt when you looked at them, when they looked at you. The way a heart could rush and race with it. It made the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile as she remembered it. And it was in the middle of this thought that she looked up and saw Doctor Stevenson standing there, as if looking to decide what he was going to be doing, and half hoping he hadn't noticed Cassandra's inappropriate staring.

Even having the keenest of senses, he had no idea there was an obsessed student stalking him from the grassy area outside of the Admin Building. Had he known, he would have put a stop to it. Attempted to let the student down easily, yet firmly. Dr. Stevenson was of the firm belief that he had lost his soulmate when he was still a teenager. He hadn’t been in a relationship in decades and, honestly, had no plans to change that. He had a few flings and casual lovers on occasions, but never anything lasting. And that worked for him.

He adjusted his glasses, pushing them up to the bridge of his nose with his index finger, as his right hand was tucked into his pants pocket. He strolled easily through the crowds of students. Every once in a while, once would say a hello to him or try and get his attention with a “Hey Dr. Stevenson!” But, for the most part, they didn’t talk to him and he didn’t talk to them. He had made acquaintances with a few of the students in the gym. They were not students in any of his classes, nor would they ever be. He taught curriculum geared towards English majors, while most of these guys were business majors. He would lift weights or play basketball with them once or twice a week. They were normally the people calling out to him as he crossed campus. They knew a different side of him. The non-teacher side of him. The shorts and t-shirt, tousled hair, early twenties guy that was ‘pretty cool.’ He would never purposefully let a potential student that close as they may expect special treatment in his class.

Coffee or breakfast? He was still undecided. He could go to the coffee cart and grab a cup of Joe and a scone or something like that, but his stomach grumbled in distaste. Then he thought about the little café just inside the student center. There was an onion bagel with a garlic spread with thick sliced pepper bacon, rare roast beef, and pepper jack cheese. His stomach growled with desire. It’s not that the coffee wasn’t good at the café, it was just more of the ‘fancy’ kind of coffee. He liked his coffee simple. He didn’t need soy milk, or a latte, or foam on top with a cute little design. He wanted something hot, strong, and black. But he really wanted that sandwich, which is what ultimately decided to café for him. He checked his watch and confirmed he had plenty of time to sit down and enjoy the food before running to class.

He headed for the student center, his stomach practically demanding the enticing sandwich now. And, of course, there was a line. He should have expected that. There was always a line at these fancy coffee places. The baristas had to do all their fancy little tricks to serve some hipster a cup of warm milk, teaming with caramel and chocolate syrup, with the mere hint of coffee to make them feel like they were accomplishing something with their lives. As he stood in line a flyer caught his eye. He looked at it. Blinked. Cocked his head a little and looked harder. It was for a grief group. He left the line, he was at the end of it anyway and went to grab one of them off the bulletin board. He carried it back to his spot in line, still at the back, and studied the flyer.

Just the other day, when he was out with some of his friends, they had started encouraging him to talk about his grief and how he had internalized it until it had turned into rage. Even though he had given up his pursuit of revenge, he still battled with the anger. It was most evident when he was boxing with his friends, and he started to unleash that anger. On more than one occasion, he had nearly sent a buddy to the hospital. They had told him so many times that he needed therapy. Therapy for him was just too personal. But this, a group. A place where everywhere there was going through something similar. This might be the solution. He might even meet a few people he could really talk to about this, if he knew they would understand.

Luckily, Dr. Stevenson had not noticed the obsessed student staring at him from across the field. Or the fact that Sparrow had been unconsciously smiling in his direction. The smile faded pretty quickly as she came back down to reality from her thoughts, and she let out a long sigh as she debated what to do next. A lot of the time, she just ignored the hunger pains until they went away, or she filled them with caffeine. She was lucky not to take up smoking in the past months, but she didn’t really like the habit on a personal level. Still, that left her standing there in the bright sunshine, hungry for once. That made her decision for her as her feet moved her towards the cafeteria in the student centre. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to eat, or if she honestly just did want more liquid. Of course, more liquid meant more bathroom breaks. She groaned a little at the thought of stopping her work every hour or so because she drank too much water and had to pee with her tiny bladder.

Well, she thought to herself as she moved to the student center, at least she could maybe find a table to sit quietly at and collect her thoughts for a while instead of going all the way back to her office. Of course, walking into the student center again quickly proved that would be impossible, as despite the fact the bells had rung, the place was crawling with students now. These students were either skipping, or didn’t have morning classes. Either way, it wasn’t really Sparrow’s business or job, as she dealt in addiction, not tardiness. If the tardiness was a result of the addiction, then that was a different story, but as Sparrow didn’t have appointments booked with any of them, she went about minding her own business for the moment. Standing near the door, she looked up and scanned the menu, trying to see if anything piqued her curiosity. Or even interest. She rejected the soups, the wraps, and studied the sandwich list, seeing one or two that might work out for her. She liked clubhouses, and the menu offered at least something similar to one, except it was offered on a bagel, but with a few different veggies than normal. Probably some young somebody being fancy. She smirked at it as she moved to step in line.

She didn’t realize right away who it was she was standing behind, as her honey eyes were still reading the offered menu. She had moved over to drinks, and could only blink at the insane descriptions of some of the cold drinks. Syrups, sugars, some with sweet cold brew coffees. Her teeth ached at even the thought of pouring that concoction into her mouth. Hoping to have better luck, her eyes then moved over to the hot drink menu. A quick read of the foams, sugars, and more syrups made the Australian quietly groan out-loud. As she did, and her body shifted slightly, her eyes dropped from the menu, and landed to notice who she had been standing behind. Dr Stevenson. She noticed her flyer in his hand, which made her hopeful for her group, but curious why he had grabbed it. Maybe for one of his students. Still, she had been thinking that maybe it was time to start getting to know her co-workers. And, as if the day was trying to tell her something, this was now the third time she had seen him today. She wasn’t quite sure how to start, but looking at the menu again, decided to take a shot. ”I’m sorry, but a pile of syrup topped with a drop of caffeine and a dollop of cream is not coffee. At best, it has to be...diabetes pretending to be coffee."

Dr. Stevenson heard the uncouth groan behind him in the line and determined it must be some impatient student annoyed at the slowness of the line. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and looked back down at the flyer in his hand. He was running pros and cons of the group in his head. The only really cons that kept coming to mind would be him, a respected professor at this University, sitting amongst a group of his students who were all bitching that their “Twilight-esque” high school romance hadn’t worked out. If that’s what this group was going to consist of, he would just stick with boxing.

A voice he had heard before but was still quite foreign to him caught his attention. A cynic just like him. A snide grin played on his lips as he turned to comment back, “It’s a fad to make the younger population drink more milk.” His pale blue eyes touched on the face of Dr. Baxley and his smile faltered for a moment. She had never spoken to him before. Maybe her statement was meant to be rhetorical, and he had bothered her with just chiming in. He had always seen her in the company of Dr. de Bonvouloir and Dr. Baxley had never even offered him a polite grin before. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry. Excuse me.” He turned around then, not wanting to make himself look like more of an asshole than he already had.

Dr. de Bonvouloir had always struck him as the cliquish kind of person, only choosing certain people to talk to. He had certainly never been in that group. He knew she distrusted him as he distrusted her. And he could only imagine that the women were of one mind that he was not worth their time or kindness. He went back to studying the flyer and, as he reached the bottom, noticed that she was leading the group. He nearly balled it up in his fist with the intention of tossing it into the closest rubbish ben. But and he would never know what prompted him to do so, he turned to face Dr. Baxley and ask, “This grief group you are hosting…” his face showed he had doubts, “This isn’t for failed high school romances, right? This is,” he waved the flyer in front of his chest to ensure she knew what he was talking about, “for serious situations. Like, if I chose to come, I could talk about some deep things that have happened in my past and not just be surrounded by eighteen-year-olds upset that their prom date won’t return their calls?”

The bubbly, sunny, beautiful, ignore the new guy woman probably thought he was a complete dickhead with his question. And maybe he was. There was no doubt he didn’t have much social tolerance for the students. He did his job. He was great at his job. He nurtured America’s future with the context of his classes and his open-mindedness at their ideas. He did his best to usher those ideas into the ability to have complex thoughts and read between the lines. But have a beer with one of them after class? Never. Open up to any of them about his rage at losing his family at fifteen? Fuck all that noise.

He waited for her answer, his eyes shifting uncomfortably between the flyer and her face. She was hard to look at. Incredibly gorgeous but not all that welcoming. Which was strange to him, considering she was a counselor and needed students to open up to her. Maybe it was his age. Maybe she had no desire to interact with older guys, though he appeared to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He had heard a rumor she dated students in the past. That would make him very much not her type and might be why he got the cold shoulder.

In recent years, Sparrow had darkened, and been much more unwelcoming than she had ever wanted to be. Due to the shattered heart, it had been hard for her to be as open as she usually was. But the whole point of the idea was to open up again, and that included herself. In all actuality, she felt bad about not getting to know her co-workers better, as that used to be one of her focuses. Letting everyone know that if they needed her, she would be there. Since his accident, she had been hiding, in her office, and herself. It made her glad, that even if he wasn’t sure the comment was to him, which it was, that he answered. His answer made a smile touch her lips. ”Does it count as milk when it doesn’t come from the cow?” She asked, eyeing the boxes of soy, and nut milk lined up along the coffee station. Her smile faded when he turned away again, but she tilted her head. Before she could open her mouth again, he was turning back, and her honey-eyes looked up into his. She had a random thought of he had pretty eyes, but her brain focused on answering his question. His question actually brought a small fear that it would turn into exactly that if she wasn’t careful.

“Yes. It’s not intended for the small pains that each of us go through growing up. Those can form us in ways, but they are not deep, psychological scarring issues.” She looked at him again, and tilted her head. “I’m hoping that people come with deep stuff from their past, and are willing to let it out. Work through it. Maybe not feel so alone in their pain. That’s the only way it can be truly overcome.” She paused, then smiled a little. “My hope is to find a common ground that maybe someone didn’t have before, an open hand to grab if someone’s slipping. Or just a space to feel...safe.”

She looked down at the flyer in his hand after giving him a chance to reply. She had tried to make it perfect, and she was hoping that after a couple sessions, the word would get around of what it was truly for, and truly about, and hopefully she might even get a few more sessions because of it. She looked from the flyer to his face, her brow somewhat knit into worry. “Although now you have me slightly worried I need to re-word the flyer....” Unconsciously, she stepped a little closer to see it again, making the scent of rain and wildflowers move with her.

Her explanation did make him feel a bit better. She was wanting deep pain. This wasn’t intended to be a bubble gum group but something dark, something real. When she leaned in to look at the flyer again, he handed it to her and gave her a few minutes to read over the flyer as she looked at it from a different perspective. The line was moving slowly, but moving it was. Soon enough, he was at the counter and ordering the bacon and roast beef bagel and a cup of dark roast with two sugars and a splash of milk. He stepped aside and invited Dr. Baxley to order as well. “And whatever she would like, please.” She was being pleasant, why couldn’t he?

He got his coffee fairly quickly since it was literally pour coffee into cup, give two count pour of a sugar dump and splash some milk in it. The sandwich would take a little longer. He stood out of the way, but still close enough to the pickup counter that he would see his bagel when it was ready. He sipped his coffee and felt the rush of caffeine and warmth as it rushed through his veins. “We should open a coffee shop on campus just for cynical, moody teachers. Call it, ‘The Teacher’s Lounge’. The only way to get in would be to flash your Staff ID card. Coffee by day. Stiff drinks come five o’clock.” He was joking. That was his way of making small talk. Poke fun at something until there was actually something to talk about.

His bagel came up and he was quick to swoop in and grab it, not wanting some hovering kid to swipe his food. With his coffee and bagel, he wanted to find a table so he could scarf this down and get to class. He wasn’t sure if Dr. Baxley was intending to join him or not, so he informed her of his next actions. “I’m going to go sit over there and eat really quick. I have class at 9am.” He wasn’t trying to be rude, but she seemed more interested in her flyer and he thought he might just leave her with her edits.

He stepped away from her then, heading to the closest table that wasn’t littered with trash. He placed the bag the bagel came on the table and the coffee next to it.

When he gave her the flyer, she smiled at him, and looked at it for a moment. She thought of the wording, but she too, noticed that the line was moving. She looked up when he began his order, and took a minute to think again about what she would like. She blinked in surprise when he stepped aside and offered to get whatever she wanted too. That surprise was followed by a look of gratitude. “Thank you.” She said with a hint of that softness she had been suppressing before she turned to the young attendant to order her own sandwich, and a simple regular cup of black coffee. She needed the harsh rush of nothing in it to truly wake her system up to do what she knew she needed to do.

Once she was finished her order, she looked over as she heard his comment. She felt surprise bubble up when she wanted to laugh, but she settled with an approving smile. “I would absolutely be there all the time, and as a psychologist, I approve this idea. But you might have to be careful with old Professor Rothman once you switched to happy hour.” she added as she turned back once her coffee was handed to her, and stood out of the way of the line as they both waited for their food.

As she stood there, she found herself wondering if she had been so out of touch with people that she was having trouble coming up with topics. She used to be all about people, and it somewhat hurt to realize it. She had to stop hanging out with vampires, she thought to herself just as their food was handed to them, one right after the other. Start hanging out with the living again. On that thought, when he informed her of his actions, she looked at her own sandwich and then him. She didn’t want to intrude, but between him and the student gossip, he was certainly the better option. “Oh. Can I join you for an adult discussion, or do I suffer the student gossip alone?”

When she asked if she could come with him, he didn't hesitate to wave his hand at the empty seat across from him. He waited for her before he took his seat and pulled the brown bag towards him. "I'm sure you deal with enough student gossip in your sessions," he said as he pulled his thick sandwich out of the bag. He looked for the perfect spot for that first bite. "Mmmmm," his eyes closing as he savored the first bite.

He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his mouth while he chewed. He then took a sip of his coffee and thought he would try to make a conversation. "So, this group you want to start about grief. I'm seriously thinking about trying it out." He took another bite and chewed. "My friends keep telling me I need therapy to deal with all the rage that's built up inside of me."

He knew, with the way he dressed while on campus and how he carried himself, his admission might come as a huge shock to her. Anyone who had met him in his professional life would only see the passionate professor talking about mythology like it was something that should still be actively worshiped. Or hear him recite poetry from memory as if he were on one of Shakespeare's stages. He didn't look like the type of guy who would have rage issues.

Sparrow was beyond grateful that he allowed her to sit with him, and sat down across from him. She noticed that he waited until she sat to sit down himself, and as a woman who was raised in manners, she appreciated his gesture. At his quip, she smirked softly. “That is certainly true.” She told him as she pulled out her own sandwich, studying the size of it compared to her mouth, and decided, instead of taking the chance of dropping half of this on her lap, she cut it in half first.

As she did, the man across from her spoke again, and her honey eyes looked at him, paying him her full attention. Her eyes scanned him as she listened. If he had voiced his thoughts, she would have agreed that he didn’t look like the type to have severe anger issues, but she had learned a long time ago not to judge emotional issues by the way people carried themselves. Sometimes people carried themselves specifically to hide the pain. Plus the whole point of the group was for hidden pain, not the obvious kind that everyone could see. She took her first bite as she listened, and had to try not to make a noise as the first real lick of flavour in months hit her tongue.

She continued to ignore that factor as she gave Dr Stevenson her full attention. She chewed her bite and took a sip or two of coffee to help her swallow, but her focus was on him. “I sincerely hope that you do try it out.” Potentially, not only would it be good to have another staff member there, but more to his point, “Grief, rage grief specifically, doesn’t just...disappear because time passes. Quite the opposite, in fact. It can leave us feeling lost, and alone and...a little cynical.” ] She said, thinking of his comment earlier.

She paused for a moment to sip her coffee, and let her therapist eye look at him. It was enough that he might feel a little bit exposed, as one often did under the eyes of a therapist, but soft enough that he might begin to understand why people could feel so safe with her. Plus her tone softened slightly as she said; “So if that’s what’s building up inside of you, I won’t ask you about it right here.” She said with a glance towards the students around them, those eyes turning back towards him, “But I’ll hope you come. And I will let you know that I am available for private sessions too, should you ever want one.” She said this with one of her soft smiles, the kind to let him know she wasn’t pushing or judging, either way he chose to go.

While she talked, he took the opportunity to take a few more bites of his sandwich. It was just what his stomach wanted that he ate it faster than he had intended. Which might have not been a bad thing after all. For as he sat there, thinking he was having a friendly conversation, the way she looked at him shifted.


He recognized that she went from seeing him as a peer to a patient. His cool blue eyes narrowed a little as she went from joking with him to studying him. He moved in his chair, sitting up straighter as he shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth. He chewed as she began to offer him private sessions. Now that she had shifted to business mode, his eyes wondered away from her. His body language made it clear she was making him uncomfortable.

He crumbled up the brown paper bag his sandwich had come in and gripped it in his fist. "Sessions? And here I thought we were having a friendly conversation. I didn't realize it was a recruiting tactic." He grabbed his coffee cup and stood up from table. "Have a pleasant day, Dr. Baxley. I need to get to class." it wasn’t a complete lie; he did need to get going.

We walked away. It didn't matter if she had been in mid-sentence or asking him to stop, he walked away. Walked away and didn't even look over his shoulder once. As he walked, he worked on calming himself down. Just when he thought he might be making a friend, here came the sells pitch. He kicked himself mentally as he walked across campus to the English building. Dr. Baxley hadn't looked his way once in over six months why, all of a sudden, did she want to be friends? She didn't really. She saw him with the flyer and took her shot at gaining a client.

Halfway to the building someone walked up behind him and called out his name in a timid way. "Dr. Stevenson?" He turned, expecting to see Dr. Baxley but was met with one of his students. "I'm so sorry I caught you like this, but would you mind clarifying a few things with me before the test?"

He wasn't in the mood. But this girl, Cassie, he believed her name was, seemed to need the help. They engaged in a conversation as they slowly walked towards the English building. The questions she asked let him know she understood the material and he was impressed by the depth she wanted to discuss some of the folklore. It was a quality conversation.

They entered the English building together; he even opened the door for her. They rode up the elevator together, standing by side, their conversation very intense on their subject. When they were in the classroom, she even took the seat closest to the desk so they could continue to talk as the other students filtered in.

She hadn’t even meant to do it. She hadn’t meant to switch, it was just a professional habit. But as soon as she recognized that she had made him uncomfortable, and opened her mouth to speak, he was getting up and leaving. She sighed deeply as her brain switched back, and before she could stop him, he was gone. She scoffed at herself as she felt whatever courage she had found to talk to someone else deflate all over again. “Right.”

Failing at the conversation had also managed to re-kill the appetite, so she wound up throwing it out when she stood up a few minutes later. She was kicking herself, wondering if she had indeed fallen that far away from people, as she took her coffee back to the Admin Building, but halfway there, she spotted Cassie once again, trying to gain Dr. Stevenson’s attention. She almost went over to intervene, but stopped herself from it. She did make a note in her mind to bring this up to Cassie later though, but after failing miserably, decided to leave the situation alone for now.

Because she wasn’t paying attention, she didn’t notice Lydia hanging around the Admin Building, probably waiting for paperwork for something or another. But Lydia noticed her, and like the true stalker of the night, came up behind her without a sound. “Hey, Birdie.”

Sparrow jumped like a rabbit, and spun towards the tall blonde. “Jesus Christ, Lydia. Don’t do that!”

Lydia threw her hands up upon being reacted to that way. Especially by Sparrow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sparrow breathed a couple of times while she tried to even out the beating of her heart, running her hand through her hair. “I know. I know. I just....I know.”

“ “Are you okay?” Lydia asked, studying all of her vital signs, and noticing them all out of wack.

“Fine. Dandy. Good to go. You?” Sparrow snapped.

Lydia raised one perfect eyebrow, and stared down at Sparrow. “Don’t bullshit your doctor.”

“Mm, makes up for you lying to your therapist.” Sparrow chimed back.

Lydia fake-gasped. “Why, I never.” She said in her most posh accent, adding the sassy hair-flip to complete it.

Lydia was so ridiculous sometimes that Sparrow couldn’t help the laugh that moved out of her mouth. She shook her head, looking down as she took a deeper breath, before looking back up at her. ”I’m fine, I promise. I’m just....reflecting on myself.”

Lydia’s eyes moved around Sparrow’s face, taking a moment to read her vitals and heartbeat before she responded. “If that’s all it is, I’ll leave it. If that ticker in your chest starts hammering again, I’ll be all over you.”

“That sounds like a threat. Or a seduction. I can’t figure it out.”

Lydia grinned, a true cross between seductress and killer, and couldn’t resist running one of her fingers over Sparrow’s cheek. “Good. You’re not supposed too.”

“You are terrifying, and I’m walking away now.” Sparrow said decidedly as she backed away from Lydia, whose face immediately shifted to that soft and beautiful way of hers again.

Chuckling, and in a better mood now, Sparrow rolled her eyes at the woman before she turned to head back upstairs. Once she unlocked and stepped into her office, she checked the time, and realized she still had a bit of time before her appointment, did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She closed her door, and sat in her chair. She closed her eyes, and let herself think. If she wanted to run a grief group, then she couldn’t be as reactive and she had to be more open. Less psychological, just more friendly. She had to listen again, let them talk, instead of pinning down the problems, or focusing on her own. Or switching when it wasn’t welcomed. That was where she went wrong with Dr Stevenson, who she was almost sure wouldn’t come to the group now. Why would he, she thought.

She wanted to fix that situation too, but she wasn’t sure how right this moment. She rubbed her temples in thought, but until she figured out herself, she couldn’t figure out him. What she could do was what she had been doing, which was to put her own pain away in order to focus on her patients. What she could also do was use the time to re-train herself a little bit, try to shift her own focus.

When her sessions did begin, Sparrow was attentive, responsive, direct. She made them laugh while she either started or continue to dig into the issues presented, together they came up with places to begin, or springboard from. She felt good by the time the last session ended just before lunch. She got up to walk her last session of the morning to the door, reminding her to stay focused on the goals they talked out. She opened the door, and bid her goodbye. Then she leaned against the frame of her office for a moment, trying to decide if she was hungry or still ignoring food today.

The teaching assistant showed up a few minutes before class, which abruptly cut off the conversation between himself and Cassie. He thumbed through one of the tests and thanked a young lady. She then took over passing out the tests as Dr. Stevenson stood in front of the class. "Today's test is multiple choice. You will have fifty minutes to complete it. When you are finished, bring your test up to my desk and you may go. Best of luck."

When the final student handed in their test at the forty-five-minute mark, Dr. Stevenson gathered the tests up, straightened them into a pile, and passed them to his teaching assistant. She would go and place the tests on his desk then meet him in the next lecture hall. He headed to his next class and settled himself at the desk in front of the room. He pulled up the PowerPoint and ran through the lecture for a few minutes. When the students started to fill the seats, he restarted the PowerPoint and waited for the bell. He went right into the lecture.

It was towards 1pm that he finished with his last lecture of the day. Mornings were for teaching, afternoons were for grading papers, creating lectures, and keeping his office hours so students could come talk to him, research, and anything else he needed to get done for his classes.

He headed back to the Admin building and up the stairs to his office. Cassie, the student from his 9am class, was sitting with her back against his door. With concern in his voice he asked, "Are you okay?"

She looked up, not having seen him coming up the hall. "Dr. Stevenson!" She popped up but stayed between him and the door to his office. "Did you look at my test yet?"

The tone of his voice made it clear he did not think her behavior was cute. "No. I just got done lecturing. You'll get your test back on Wednesday in class like everybody else. Excuse me." He moved the reach past her to open the door, but she stepped in the way. He backed up, putting space between them.

Acting like the typical, flirty girl she looked at him like he was just delicious. [color=[pink]"Are you hungry after lecturing all morning? We can go somewhere and grab a bite."[/color]

Really not amused now he replied, "No thank you. Please move out of the way."

"C'mon, Kevin. I want to keep talking about the stories."

His eyes darkened. He hated being called Kevin. It was a mortal sin in his mind. "I asked you nicely once. Now, I'm telling you. Move out of the way." His voice was stern. Authoritative. He was no alpha but there was a command in his voice that would let anyone know he was not interested.

A door to an office down the hall opened and both Cassie and his head turned to look. Dr. Baxley was one of her patients were standing in the hallway now. He would have a witness so Cassie couldn't accuse him of anything later. In the same authoritative voice, he said clearly, "I don't hang out with students. I'm not interested in getting lunch with you. Now, for the third time, please remove yourself from in front of my office."

As Sparrow was leaning against the frame, looking at the back of her last patient, and hoping they’d actually take her advice this time, her thoughts were distracted by a conversation. As she tuned in, and looked over, she saw Cassie standing infront of Dr. Stevenson’s office. The woman sighed softly as she watched for barely a minute as Dr. Stevenson rejected Cassie, and she noted that desperate look in her eyes. Sparrow knew this couldn’t be tolerated, so despite absolutely crashing and burning in their earlier conversation, she stepped forward. “Cassandra.” She said firmly, which turned the girl’s attention towards her and away from Dr. Stevenson.

Slowly, Sparrow surveyed the scene, before she stepped slightly to the side, and lifted a hand towards her office. “You know where I wish you.” She told Cassie, who looked irritated upon being interrupted. Cassie looked at Dr. Stevenson, as if hoping he would tell Sparrow that they were fine, and she needn’t interfere. But no such thing happened, and both adults were only looking at her.

With a short sigh, she looked at Dr. Stevenson like she would be back for him, but headed down the hall into Sparrow’s office. Sparrow shook her head slightly, and glanced at Dr. Stevenson. She had...no idea what to say to him now, but she looked in the general direction of her office. “I’ll make sure that stops.” She told him before she left the spot to go back to her office, where Cassie was waiting.

Closing the door behind her, she waited barely a minute before Cassie launched into this year’s explanation. “We were fine, Dr. Baxley. He was just...playing hard to get.”

Sparrow’s eyebrow raised as she sat in her chair and looked at Cassie. “Hard....to get? Because that seemed pretty clearly like a rejection.”

Cassie, 100% lost in her own head, sighed wistfully. “But that’s only during the day. I mean, he has to keep his job right? But, come on, Doc, have you ever seen him in the gym?”

Sparrow was confused by the statement but it didn’t show on her face as she asked; “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Because! He is sooo sexy! Like so sexy. I like to go and watch him while he works out, and imagine what it would be like to—”

Sparrow held up a hand, having trouble imagining Dr. Stevenson as sexy, but she moved on quickly. “Okay, stop right there.” Her hand came down again as she collected her thoughts. “Cassandra. We’ve talked about this. You’re attaching again. That’s not healthy. And he is not your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be.”

“But, Doctor, he does! He told me!” She insisted, bouncing a little on the chair.

“No, he didn’t, sweetheart. Are you doing what we talked about? Are you taking what we talked about?” Last year, when this happened to another teacher, Sparrow had prescribed her medicine. But Sparrow feared she wasn’t taking them, which was allowing this regression. “You’re a smart girl, Cassandra. And you know that isn’t true, don’t you?”

Cassandra fidgeted, trying to get out from Sparrow’s watchful gaze, but eventually, she squirmed. “I...forgot them?” She tried, which Sparrow got a very stern and unimpressive look on her face.

“So, no. You’re not then.” Sparrow looked at her until she nodded what Sparrow already knew. She sighed softly. “Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do now. We’re going to reset your medicine,” She said as she turned to grab her prescription pad, writing her another. “And then we’re going to talk a little bit more about Dr. Stevenson.”

That got another wistful sigh, and another good hour of Sparrow’s time before she was able to come up with a solid plan. She even got Cassie to make a deal that if she didn’t take her medicine, or went near Dr. Stevenson again, she would be escorted off the property. Cassandra was very unsatisfied with this answer, but Sparrow made it very clear that was the only was she would be staying in the school. Walking Cassie to the door an hour later, Sparrow felt the beginning of a tension headache start, but she firmly reiterated, “Meds, practice, and stay away from him. If an urge creeps up, I’m never far. Now, your classes should be over, which means you can go straight away and get your meds, and start them. Right?”

Cassie stared at the doctor as if she had hurt feelings, but she had battled this war with her before and the doctor almost always won. “Yes.” She said in annoyance.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Sparrow said as she opened the door, and once again, leaned against it to watch Cassie actually go down the right direction, as if a barrier between her and Dr. Stevenson. When Cassie left the building, she turned to look on the direction of his office, but not seeing or hearing any activity, figured he was either busy or something else. Maybe a student or class. She didn’t know his exact class schedule, after all, but after a few minutes, with an open door, she sat down to type up her notes. If she saw him at all today, she would inform him that the girl was being dealt with, and if she didn’t see him, then she would let him know as soon as she could. Maybe the next morning, she thought as she opened her files to get to work.

And just like that, Dr. Baxley butted in and…she knew the girl’s name. The way she said her name made it sound like they really knew each other, more than just a ‘I’ve seen you before’ acknowledgement. His jaw tightened and flexed as Dr. Baxley waved Cassie into her office like she had been there a hundred times before. With Dr. Baxley’s words to him about making Cassie stop made him think this was a common occurrence that nothing was being done about. Well, he wasn’t the type to just sit there and do nothing. If this girl didn’t watch herself, she would be found in the woods under a pile of leaves. Would he intentionally do it, No. But shit happens when you pushed him too far.

His eyes were cold as he watched Cassie finally move from in front of his door. His angry eyes shifted to Dr. Baxley who watched Cassie expectantly as the girl walked towards her office. Cassie did look back at him, but he was fast to turn away, not wanting to give her any indication he ever wanted her to look at him again. He put his key in the door and stepped into his office. He closed the door and locked it behind him. He then gathered the tests and his notes and placed them in his leather briefcase. He could do all this from home. He turned his computer off and prepared to leave.

He opened the door and listened. Cassie and Dr. Baxley were in the midst of a conversation that didn’t sound like it was anywhere near over. He stepped out of his office, closed the door and locked it, then swiftly walked to the stairs and practically ran down them. He wanted to be very gone before he had to see either of them again. Once out of the building, he pulled out his phone and called the Dean of the English Department. He explained the situation and how he wanted Cassie to be dropped from his class immediately. She could be transferred to a different class if she needed the credit, but he would no longer tolerate her presence in his class. It was decided that his teaching assistant would catch Cassie outside of the class on Wednesday and escort her to the Dean’s office where this issue would be discussed, and Cassie schedule would be changed.

He then called the campus police department and put in a complaint about her trying to break into his office and refusing to let him in. He advised that normally it wouldn’t have been that bothersome, except she seemed to have a history of stalking, and he didn’t want to be accused of anything if he continued to reject her advances towards him. He wanted a report on record of the incident. He informed them that Cassie was, as they speak, in Dr. Baxley’s office. The officer he spoke to said they would investigate the behavior and send someone to talk to Dr. Baxley about the girl. The office was going to email Dr. Stevenson a form he would need to complete to start the report, but they would go ahead and send the office over to talk to Dr. Baxley since the situation had just occurred.

He then got to his car, got in, and fired up his engine. He got off that campus as fast as the speed limit allowed. He was a little paranoid on his drive home, making sure no one was following him. He pulled up to his house, opened the garage door, pulled into the garage, and closed the garage door. He wasn’t afraid of Cassie; he was more afraid of what might happen to her if she didn’t leave him alone. He would only say no so many times before his rage boiled over and she would find the beast within him staring at her, instead of her professor. He hoped he had taken enough action to remove her from his orbit, that she would forget about him and move on to the next guy – hopefully a student.

He settled at his desk and started his afternoon ritual. He started with the tests. Thankfully they were multiple choice, so it was easy – right or wrong, nothing in between. Then he worked on his lecture for the next day. He did some internet searches to find some updated pictures that he thought might catch his students’ attention better. He worked until about 5pm when he switched off his computer and got up. He stretched and shook out his muscles. He grabbed his phone and dialed one of his buddies. It seemed a small group of his pack were going to a local bar tonight for a pitcher of beer special and to shoot some pool. He was in!

He began the transformation from ‘Clark Kent’ to Rowdy. He shed the glasses, suit, sweater vest and smartly styled hair for his natural look. He had to jump in the shower just to rinse the gel out of his hair before he was pulling on his old worn jeans, his black leather riding boots, a tight black t-shirt, and his leather jacket. His hair, it could whatever. It never tamed in when he was out with his pack. Mainly because he would be taking his bike, and the wind did what it wanted to with his hair. He was starving and was looking forward to the bar. Beside great beer specials, they had some killer wings. He was going to shove down a few dozen with some suds and forget today.

Sparrow had her computer opened, her fingers quickly typing the notes into Cassie’s file. The girl was troubled, but if she would stay on the strict medicine schedule, she would do well. Sparrow was thinking about ways to get her to stay on that schedule when her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. Looking up from the screen, she blinked when she saw campus police standing there. “Uhh, can I help you?” Sparrow asked as she switched off her monitor.

One of the officers, a kind and gentle older man, shifted from one foot to the other before beginning. “We’ve gotten a compliant from one of your co-workers, about a student harassing him.”

’Well, that was quick work.’ Sparrow thought as she kept a neutral look on her face. “I assume you’re speaking of Cassandra Andres?” She asked as she offered a hand to the couches, so they could sit.

“Yes ma’am. We’d like to get your version of the story, plus any history you may have with this young lady.”

Sparrow somehow managed to keep the irritation inside as she told the officers what she knew of the incident. That she had witnessed Dr. Stevenson tell Cassie very firmly that he was not interested, and that although they did not directly speak, she let him know that she would be putting a stop to it. “As for history, gentleman, under the law and school policy, I cannot disclose the nature of our sessions, but I can tell you that she does suffer from attachment disorders. This is, unfortunately, not the first incident, but it is the most recent.”

They took their notes, and asked her many questions, some she could answer, and some she legally could not. She was able to tell him her patterns of behaviour, and how her cycle normally began. She was able to advice on the things to watch for when it came to her, especially when it came to the object of affection. She was able to walk them through a basic course of what they were dealing with, and how they could best react. She could tell them all of this in basis, but she was unable to get too specific to the young woman. Just enough that they understood. It was a delicate line she danced on, and the entire process took far, far longer than she wanted.

By the end, answering the same question asked a thousand different ways was grinding on her nerves. She nearly felt like she was on trial, and the clock was reading close to 4:45. Her head was starting to pound, although she didn’t know if that was stress or hunger, for she was long passed starved now. Starved was quickly working it’s way into anger, which as irrational anger sometimes did, branched off into quickly being mad at everyone. By the time the officers left, Sparrow was done with today.

She sat seething in her chair for about five seconds before Lydia popped in out of nowhere. “Oh wow, there are angry vibes in here. I was just coming to make sure you weren’t working yourself to death, but you look like you need a drink.”

Sparrow looked up through narrowed eyes, and pinned the vampire. “Is drinking your excuse for everything?”

Lydia smiled. “No, Doc. Everything is my excuse for drinking. Now come on. You can’t go out looking like that.” While Sparrow grumbled at her, Lydia quickly whipped out her phone to let her husband know there was no use in picking her up today, and she would be home later, probably hammered. “Come on, now. Let’s go to my office.”

Lydia’s office was located in, naturally, the Medical and Science buildings, but her office was a little different from the others. During the day, it held the vibe of your typical surgeon. But after five, it became a place of fashion. Opening the large dresser in the corner of the room revealed makeup, clothes, shoes, belts, jackets. It was a mini-vanity, and Sparrow smirked at it. “Why in the world do you need this in your office?”

As Lydia was picking through the rack of dresses, picking a few for Sparrow to try, she looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Two reasons. One. In case blood, bowel or some other body part flies onto my clothes during the day, and two.” Lydia paused as she rummaged through the bottom, pulling out thigh-high platformed shoes. “There is nothing that can’t be fixed with a good pair of boots.”

Flatly, Sparrow replied; “Not everything in the world can be solved with shoes, Lydia.”

The vampire merely scoffed as she pulled Sparrow easily to her feet, and started holding up dresses to her body. “Well, not with that attitude. Try this one. And this one..and this one.”

The next 30 minutes, despite Sparrow’s objections, was a fashion show, which Lydia directed until she thought Sparrow looked perfect. A short black dress, encased in lace, a black tank top, paired with a belt for seamless looks, a pretty pair of earrings and the thigh-high boots. After fixing her hair, Lydia looked over Sparrow. “Wonderful. You look perfect.”

“Yes, yes, great. Can we go now? If I have to wait any longer, I might eat your hand.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, knowing Sparrow didn’t appreciate her master talents, but the vampire took the human by the hand and led her out of the building, and down to Sparrow’s car. “Pick a bar, any bar.”

Picking a bar didn’t take long, as Sparrow drove for a little bit, and wound up picking something somewhat close to home. She pulled into a parking lot filled with noise, trucks, cars and motorcycles. It was the motorcycles that Sparrow looked at, but not for long as the scent of food drifted from the doors and beckoned her. The first thing she did was order a beer and a burger, eating it when it arrived with a fury that almost looked a little animal.

Lydia stayed away from her while she ate, for food played hell on Lydia’s senses, so she took the time to survey the room instead. Mostly, she smelt humans but over there in the corner was a scent she was familiar with. The wet dog smell that came with wolves. And what was this? One of those wolves had a very, very familiar heartbeat. One she had memorized before. Ignoring it for now, as they did her, she moved over to Sparrow as she finished, and ordered her another beer. “Okay, darling. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Sparrow scoffed as she picked up the beer. “Do you wanna start with the absolute failed attempt at a conversation or the ending my day by talking to campus police?”

“Well, for either of those, I think we need shots.”

And shots they had, one by one by one by one until Sparrow was lose enough that Lydia could ask her question again, and this time, get an answer. “Well, I tried to talk to Dr. Stevenson today.” Lydia had to resist everything in her from looking over at him as she spoke.

“And how did that go?” Lydia asked as she took another shot.

“Horrid. Could not have gone worse.” As she revealed this, she shifted and her eyes left Lydia to focus over into the corner, where a bunch of bikers stood. The one in the middle called the most to her, but he was the only one not looking in her direction. “It started okay. It was even going okay. And then it sucked. A lot. Because of me, not him. And then later, when I tried to help, I think I just made him more angry.”

Rowdy arrived at the bar a little before 6pm and did exactly what he planned to. He ordered five dozen BBQ wings and two pitchers of beer. He started a tab with his credit card and waited for the pitchers. With one pitcher in each hand, he informed the bartender he would be at the pool tables.

He joined his pack as they called out, "Rowdy!" and he was laughing in only a few short minutes. They drank the pitchers quickly, having to get them refilled every twenty minutes or so. Though consuming massive amounts of beer, they never got unruly. It was obvious they were having fun, but they remained respectful of the other patrons.

Rowdy ate through all his wings, only having to chase one of his friends away from his food. He was starving and ate them so fast that by the time they stopped chattering enough to start the first game of pool, there was only a pile of chicken bones and an empty beer pitcher in front of Rowdy. Which was promptly collected by a waitress, refilled and brought back to him. He cleaned himself up with one of the Wetnaps that was stacked on the table for messy wing eaters, like himself. He offered the waitress a wink and then grabbed a pool stick to take his shot before his pack mates started bitching at him to hurry up.

He was bent over the pool table, ass in the air, when all his buddies got quiet. Rowdy stood up and looked around at them. He followed their gazes over to two smoking fucking hot...never mind. He directed his attention back to the pool table and took his shot.

The guys started to chatter amongst themselves, talking about the two 'babes' that had just entered. Their stares were obvious, trying to get the women's attention. "Why aren't you jumping on this opportunity, man? That one chick is exactly your type."

Rowdy was making a point of keeping his back to the bar, not wanting to have another failed interaction with Dr. Baxley today. "I work with them, and I know I'm not interested."

Patrick, the beta of the pack, was the tallest, biggest, and 'hunkies' one of the bunch. He nudged Rowdy, "So, you won't care if I go try my hand?"

Rowdy scoffed and smacked Patrick on the shoulder, "Best of luck, pal." He was leaning over to take another shot when he thought he needed to add something and straightened back up. He turned to see Patrick already starting over to the bar. He said swiftly, "Don't bother with the blonde. She's ball and chained." Rowdy then turned back to the pool table and took his shot.

Patrick nodded, letting Rowdy know he heard. Patrick wasn’t one to mess with vamps any way. Patrick made his way through the bar and slid up behind Sparrow. In his confident way he disrupted their conversation and asked if he could buy them both a drink.

Rowdy and the other guys joked about Patrick and his likelihood of striking out as they continued the game. All the guys looked, all but Rowdy. He didn't want to seem interested as it would only draw Dr. Baxley over to them and give the opportunity for more awkward moments. But if she fell for Patrick's bullshit - he could be charming - Rowdy would have to make a quick exit.

“Okay, tell me the story.” Lydia said as she pushed another glass Sparrow’s way.

Sparrow, now well fed, and the alcohol starting to make her body buzz, ran a hand over her face as she groaned. Before she started, she let her vision drift back over to the group of men standing at the pool table, four out of five of which were staring at her. “Okay, okay fine. I went into the cafeteria, and I saw Dr Stevenson there, and I saw him holding my flyer. Yes, I was curious why, because...well, I'm a psychiatrist. It’s my job, but I wasn’t about to ask him about it, because until he tells me, it’s none of my business. So I made some stupid little joke about the coffee, which he answered and then that kind of got us talking, and we sat down, and...’

Sparrow had paused, which caused the vampire to lower the glass of Scotch she was holding, and wait a few moments, before she prompted; “And...?”

The brunette sighed a long breath as she leaned somewhat back in the chair, and looked at the bubbles in the cup of beer. Instead, she picked up and tossed back the shot sitting beside the glass, flipping it upside down on the bar. “And then while he was asking me exactly what the group was for, I...automatically switched into therapy mode. And then, I offered him a session. A session.” She said in a tone that was mocking herself. “After which, he got up and walked away. Without a look back. And I’m not so sure I blame him.”

Lydia’s eyebrows furrowed as she listened to the story. She crossed her long legs, which got the attention of the bartender, as she tried to process Sparrow’s story. “So,.... you psycho-analyzed him?”

“No! Yes. Maybe a little. I didn’t mean too, it’s just....If someone were to break a bone right now, you’d go automatically into surgeon-mode.”

Lydia thought about that for a few minutes, and thought she somewhat understood. “Okay. So, he brought up your group and you went into therapy mode? That’s...that’s it?”

“That was it, until..” But before Sparrow had a chance to begin telling Lydia about Cassie, someone was coming up behind Sparrow. Startled, she turned to face one of the bikers from the corner. “Hello?” She said somewhat in confusion.

Patrick smiled as he moved closer to the two women. His eyes looked at Lydia, but his senses screamed vampire, and she was looking at him with eyes full of distrust. Plus Rowdy had said she was married. So, he looked back at Sparrow. “Well, hello beautiful. Can I buy you ladies a drink?”

Lydia was staring at the werewolf, one because he had the audacity to interrupt their conversation, but two, because she was deciding how easy it would be to fuck with him. While she said nothing, Sparrow blinked a little. He was handsome enough, but it was his friend that Sparrow kept finding her vision heading towards, even while she had been telling the story. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Patrick grinned as he stepped on Sparrow’s other side, ordered a beer, and whatever the girls were drinking, “I’m Patrick. What’s your name?” He asked her as he waited for their drinks, his smile charming and full of confidence.

Sparrow smiled politely, reading body-language even through a slowly getting drunk mind. He exuded sex appeal, charm, and normally, would have caught her attention. Still, she was nice as she smiled. “Sparrow. This is Lydia.” She turned to her friend, who was staring down the man. Sparrow tapped her knee, which brought her out of her stare, as if she had simply spaced-out for a moment. “And thank you for the drink. That’s really nice of you.” She said as she turned back to Patrick, who looked from Lydia to her.

“Oh, not a problem.” He grabbed his beer, and handed Sparrow hers, keeping that smile as he did.

As she took it, she looked back over at his friends, and the only one not looking her way. She looked back at Patrick then to ask; “Do...you guys come here a lot?”

Patrick, thinking this was starting to go his way, leaned a little closer. Often enough. I’m hoping you come here a lot.”

Sparrow smiled in that soft, semi-drunken way. “Not often.” She told him, her brain not totally registering that he was leaning in. “But, I might have to come here some more.”

Patrick grinned, shifting so he was giving her his full attention. “Yeah? See something you like?”

Sparrow smirked a little, but instead of looking directly at him, looked beyond him to his friend standing at the pool table quickly before answering. “Possibly.”

This got a grin out of him, and he drank from the beer he held. “Can I uh...ask what that might be?”

Sparrow got almost a little nervous, but with a smile, continued; “This might seem bold, but uhm..” She paused as she looked at Patrick.

“Yeah?” He asked as he started to lean in a little closer, thinking her heartbeat was for his actions.

“Who...is your friend?” Sparrow said, utterly killing the attempt as she looked at the one turned away from them.

Just like that, Patrick stopped, a little shocked, and Lydia, who was on the other side, was not prepared for Sparrow to ask that, thinking that was going the complete opposite way. If she didn’t have vampiric senses, she would’ve both spit out and choked on the drink she just took at the stunned look on Patrick’s face. To his credit, he seemed to recover quickly as he looked back at his friends. “Oh. Who, that?” Once Sparrow confirmed, he looked back at him again. “That’s Rowdy. Ornery little fucker, zero social skills.”

“Hey, that’s something already in common.” Lydia commented, which made both heads turn towards her, Sparrow’s in a glare. “Oh, sorry, was that outloud?”

“I’m sorry.”Sparrow, with a soft apologetic look turned back to Patrick, who took the rejection well.

“It’s alright. Do you want me to bring him over here?” He asked, as he still ordered a few shots for them, this time just because he wanted too.

“Uh, no. That’s okay. I was...just curious.’Even as she said it, she looked back in his direction again, like she did want that.

Patrick merely shrugged at her answer, smirking. “Well, if you wanna talk to him, say the word. Enjoy your drink.” With a pleasant smile and a wink for effect, he left her alone, still shocked at the question.

When he got back to the pool table, the other three immediately started in on him. “That must’ve been a record rejection.” One of them teased as he bumped against Patrick, who was looking at Rowdy.

“Not so much a rejection as...She asked about him."

Rowdy listened to his pack mates that they analyzed the pick-up attempt from Patrick to the hotties over at the bar. Knowing exactly who they were and the kind of interaction he had already had with Dr. Baxley today, he was in no hurry to engage with her again so soon. He kept the pool game going, being the only one still interested, as the others gawked and guffawed as they listened really close. Rowdy was not listening. He didn't want to hear his beta scoring with one of his co-workers. If they hit it off, Patrick might even start bringing Dr. Baxley to pack events. Then Rowdy really wouldn't ever be able to get away from her.

He knocked his fifth ball into the corner pocket when the four guys erupted in laughter and stumbled over to him, pushing at him. "Dude! That was ice fucking cold," one of them said through fits of laughter.

Patrick returned with a shot for each of them. He handed them out, Rowdy's last. "Me?” he said in disbelief as he took the shot from his beta.

Patrick downed the shot and placed the empty glass on the table that was cluttered in empty pitchers. "Yeah you. She couldn't keep her eyes off you." He turned around and gave Sparrow a little glance, "Still can't."

Rowdy took the shot and handed Patrick the empty glass. "I'm not going over there, man. I work with those chicks. You think I want to hang out with them here?"

"Then don't hang out. Go give her some of that Rowdy charm. Fuck her all night and be done with it."

Rowdy shook his head at his beta. "Yeah, because that won't make work awkward at all," he said in an overly sarcastic manner.

Ted, the quintessential hot guy, Ken Doll come to life, "If you aren't going over there, then I am."

Patrick and Rowdy down looked at their pack mate and shook their head in unison. "He's gonna strike out worse than me," Patrick said laughing.

Rowdy kept busy with the pool table. Patrick found a cute waitress to take over their service and bring them more pitchers. She became his target of the night. Ted returned in an even a shorter amount of time than Patrick had. "She keeps asking about you. She's pretty wasted. Now is a great time to..."

"I'm not going over there," he said truly annoyed. But he did turn and look in their direction. Lydia's eyes caught him first. She practically glared at him. No surprise there. She had never liked him. Then his eyes shifted, and he met the soft brown eyes of Dr. Baxley. She was looking at him all together differently than she had ever looked at him on campus. She smiled a shy, flirty smile and he couldn't help but return it. Maybe he could...

Patrick fucked up the moment when he came over and threw one of his arms around Rowdy's shoulder and burped in his ear. "Guess who's gonna get some pussy." He leaned heavily on Rowdy and whispered, "This guy,” and he pointed to himself.

Rowdy glanced over at the waitress who was cashing out her till. "Double wrap it, dude. You don't want to wake up to her for the rest of your life."

Patrick smacked Rowdy in the back, "Probably right. But while you're at home reading because you were too chicken to close the deal with the brunette hottie. I'll be teaching her why werewolves are the best lovers." Then Patrick wandered off to meet up with his date for the night.

The other guys, having no luck with the ladies, decided to head to a favorite strip club of theirs. Rowdy had an invitation but declined. He wasn't in the mood to pay girls to act like they liked him. They left in a group, talking about stopping by the ATM to get some cash. That left Rowdy at the pool table alone.

He chanced another glance at the two ladies. It was clear Dr. Baxley was on the verge of being knock out drunk. He looked at Lydia, why didn't she care? Rowdy tossed the pool stick on the table and headed to the bar. He ordered two bottles of water and waited for them. He closed out his tab, signed the receipt, and picked up the bottles of water. He made his way around the bar over to his co-workers.

He touched Dr. Baxley lightly on her shoulder and, if she turned to him, placed one of the water bottles in her hand. He offered her a bad boy grin and said, "You'll be happy you had this in the morning." Rowdy turned to Lydia and offered the other water bottle. "Make sure she drinks them both. And get her some of those breakfast tacos for the ride home. The carbs and grease will help with the hangover she is surely going to have."

He gave Sparrow one more look with his steely blue eyes and then headed out the door. He jumped on his bike and went for a ride to clear his mind. He was home before midnight. As layed in bed, he wondered what would have happened if he had gone over to talk to Dr. Baxley while she had still been sober enough to remember? He fell asleep running the scenario in his mind.

When he woke up, his hand was in his pants, gripping his fully erect cock. He released it and lifted his head to look around. He was alone, right? No sign of anyone here. What had he been dreaming about? it couldn't remember. All he remembered was that he had gone to bed thinking about Dr, Baxley. His cock twitched. His head fell back on the pillow as he said playfully, "So that's the one you want?" His penis responded with another twitch.