Book 5, Chapter 5: Light from a Half-Closed Door (1/2)
Title: Light from a Half-Closed Door (1/2)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo, with magickalmolly
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word count: 4839
Summary: Discussing Dominic, and then some.
Index
Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy's already into his second cup of coffee, and it's only eight o'clock in the morning. He has at least an hour before students begin trampling outside his office door, nearly ninety minutes before his first class of the day, and it’s in these quiet moments that Billy remembers he loves these buildings, this work; he loves to wander the corridors as he’s doing now, and inhale the scent of chalk dust, floor wax and musty textbooks; he loves to sample the coffee from the small shop on the other side of campus, loves to interact with students just as interested in philosophy as he is, or at least can pretend they are.
But there’s more weighing on his mind today, most heavily the upcoming long bank holiday weekend and the idea of taking himself and Dominic well out of town. Billy smiles into the steam of his coffee as he brings it to his lips. The continent is where he wants to be; specifically in the one city that owns as much of Billy’s heart as does Glasgow. Their attempts at French would be amusing, Billy supposes, knowing all too well his own limitations with the language, and then of course there would be the food. Billy's stomach rumbles, empty and unhappy, at the very thought.
Of course, it’s not a given that Dominic might want to go anywhere with Billy over the break, not even on holiday; there’s a chance Dominic would prefer to go north and home to deal with those relatives of his rather than spend every waking moment with Billy and his overarching need, his desire to shag him against anything that won't roll away beneath them. That chance is a slim one, granted, but it does exist.
Billy’s made it to his office now, and after throwing his briefcase down, he settles into his chair and props his feet on the desk, sipping pleasantly at the rest of the coffee. Only a few more days to go, Billy thinks, and he reaches for the last two essays he might have finished marking last night if there hadn’t been the usual pleasant distractions. He already knows they’re good; he’d left them for last on purpose, knowing they wouldn’t require much more from him than a few short notes and a grateful high mark. He’s composing the last of those notes when a short run of brittle taps on the doorframe makes him look up to meet the gaze of Cate, peering around the door like a bright-eyed cheerful thief unafraid to be caught.
"Professor Blanchett," Billy says, sitting up straight and bringing his feet off the desk before he beckons her inside. "Good morning."
"Cate. Call me Cate, please. And I hope it will be good. Not too busy for a moment, are you?" She enters Billy's office, a bright flash of colour against all the warm wood, and crosses to him, stopping just a few steps away at the sound of the wheels on Billy’s chair rolling backward. Being the master of justification that he is, Billy can write off his nervousness as the result of too much caffeine. But in truth, Billy knows that he is made more than nervous by this woman. She's walked away from him twice in the space of less than a week, both times visibly irritated by one or another slip-up he's unintentionally made, and Billy is determined that will not give her reason to find him so obnoxious today. That's the theory, anyway.
Before he can think harder on that or explain that he’s not that busy at all, Billy works out the probable reason for Cate’s visit; that form needs can only mean that she’s here about Dominic. Billy swallows, the nervousness back with an irritating vengeance. "I assume this is about a student, then? I've recommended a few of my them to speak with you. They don't--” Billy throws a hand and then pushes it quickly up into the back of his hair, a habit he knows from experience betrays his nervousness but one he’s never been able to kick. “Necessarily feel they're getting a good grasp of science this term, and I thought. Well. I thought you might be able to help." Another pause, and then Billy clears his throat. “How can I help you?"
Cate smiles, clearly and with an easy grace pretending not to notice Billy’s distraction, and retrieves a notepad from her bag, flipping pages and then finally humming as she taps a page. "I need a session transfer paper for ..." Cate checks her notes again and then looks up at Billy. "Dominic Monaghan. He said you were his advisor."
"Right," Billy says, but doesn’t move yet from his perch behind the desk. He's considering Professor Blanchett--Cate, Billy reminds himself, the staccato sound of it sharp in his head--carefully now, hoping she’s not just faking it, and can’t actually see how agitated she makes him. She’s just another teacher, Billy thinks as he finally turns to his small filing cabinet. Just on a professional errand, and just happening to look like a spring morning in the middle of my office.
“Monaghan," Billy murmurs as he flips through a small drawer of files. "Dominic. There we go." He pulls out a thick file and weighs it appreciatively in his hand. "I'm pleased he came to see you. I'm concerned that he may not be receiving the best attention--well, the best experience in his Biology lecture. Dr. Stinson seems to not spend as much time as he could on concepts, and there are students who learn in ... different ways." Billy sighs. "He is transferring to your lecture, yes?" Billy waits for Cate's nod, and then continues. "I know he'll be better off with you."
The words surprise Billy, and he checks himself, reaching for his coffee again. He finds the transfer form and begins scribbling a few notes, more to calm himself than anything else. He stops before his signature line, and raises his eyes to Cate's blue gaze. He cannot read her nearly as well as he’d like--has not been able to since they met-but he feels caught in the depths of her eyes somehow. The images of spiders and their webs make themselves vivid and ridiculous in his thoughts, but even after he frowns and tries to shake them off, they don't disappear.
"Cate," Billy says, his voice softer than he’d ever allow it to carry in class. "I know this has been on very short notice, and I appreciate your agreeing to allow Dominic to move to your section. I've already told him that you're a force to be reckoned with.” Billy's smile slides across his face before he's even aware of it, and Cate laughs, coming around the desk to lean against it now, just far enough away from Billy that he doesn’t flinch. "And you won't allow him to slide. But it's crucial he understands this class, Cate; it’s absolutely vital, and not just because he can’t finish without it.”
Billy stops himself again; he sounds too invested, perhaps, more vehement than anyone would believe he has reason to be, and so he forces himself to relax, shrugging a bit before he continues as if this conversation could be about any one of the students represented by those folders and files Billy keeps tucked away. “As his advisor, I've made every effort to get him into the classes we both see as beneficial. Biology is a core element--nothing to do with his concentrations, but everyone needs a good grasp on the sciences. Dominic is no exception." Billy looks up momentarily from his scribbling, and then back down again. “You’re looking well, Cate. Settling in nicely here?”
"Thank you,” Cate nods, and then tilts her head charmingly. “And yes, I think I am. It's been a terribly busy week; both, with moving into my office and trying to piece together all the lectures where Dr. Mehner left off, but everyone's been so understanding." She’s silent for a moment, and when Billy looks up again, her smile is very warm. "You especially, Bill. I'm sorry if I've come across as less than friendly; I feel a bit--out of place. It's hard to be the newest member of a well-established staff, especially with the strangeness of coming in mid-term like this, but you've been kind to me, and I wanted you to know I appreciate it."
Reaching across to where Billy still holds his pen, Cate touches the back of his hand softly, just the slightest brush. The hair on the back of Billy's neck rises at her touch, and Billy concentrates fiercely to keep from looking away, to back down from what’s not even really a challenge here. “I’d like it if we could be friends,” Cate says then, and the impassivity Billy’s forced in his expression seems suddenly ridiculous; he nods slowly, and releases the pen he’s holding, sliding his hand from underneath hers to fold in its opposite as he leans back in his chair.
"Of course," Billy says gently. "’s not the most welcoming of schools, is it? Better than St. Andrews, though, as you might have noticed." At this, his smile reappears. "At least we’re not actively encouraged to torture students here, whatever the temptation."
Cate laughs again, and it’s Billy’s turn to tilt his head, his mind working now to process indeed how lovely the woman across from him appears today; she’s softer around the edges in a way that Billy can certainly appreciate, regardless of his personal preferences. She looks happier, and Billy admires her ability to have found a little of that happiness so quickly at Baskerville, when it took him almost a year to find his feet. One week into his first term, Billy still got lost on the way to his office; he cannot imagine having had to take over another professor's classes at the same time.
"I've always thought you friendly, Cate," Billy says then, returning his attention to the form he’s looked over a lot longer than necessary now. "I've just been a distracted bastard, and rude besides. I'm terrible at first, second, fifteenth impressions. I've been meaning to ask you, actually-- that journal you had ... I'm afraid I've lost mine in my tip of a house, and I was wondering ... it's actually irrelevant, actually; we’ll just leave it." Billy laughs and shrugs again, signing his name with an unnecessary flourish at the bottom of the form. He makes to hand it to Cate, then pulls it back suddenly, his face going serious again. Billy forces himself to meet Cate's eyes, measuring his words carefully.
"I owe you several favours for this, Cate. You shouldn't be expected to just take on another student, especially one who's been run through Stinson's mill. But I think you will find that Dominic is a good student. And I know you’ll find that I’m grateful to you for allowing him to show you that."
Billy tears his copy from the form and smooths it over his blotter, his own features creasing as if to make up for it. "I'm probably speaking out of turn--again," he laughs bitterly, "but I'm bothered that you feel out of place, Cate. It's one thing to be nervous about starting a new tenure, but you seem to have handled that well. It's just that ... you've not been harassed-no one's been rude to you, have they?"
Cate’s smile looks like it comes automatically, if not easily, and Cate shakes her head. "No, as I said, most everyone's been better than I had expected. I suppose it’s just a matter of finding my way around, and finding my place without shaking anyone else out of theirs. You understand." At Billy's nod, Cate's smile becomes more genuine, and she settles more against his desk, shifting up to nearly sit upon it, and her voice softens as she continues. "I imagine you've gone through this yourself a few times, Bill. It's difficult to be good at what you do, but be considerably younger than most of your peers. I don't like feeling I have to prove myself to people I don't have to answer to. I know I should ignore it, but--that’s not very much in my nature."
Billy lets the silence move between them for a long minute, and then Cate picks up her copy of the student transfer form from where it is sitting on Billy's desk. She skims it as Billy watches, wondering what her nature would make of his scattered penmanship. At least he’s spelled her name correctly, that much Billy remembers; anything else he’d left on the form might as well have been gibberish.
Rising from the edge of Billy's desk, Cate moves back to her valise still sitting on the empty chair, and as she tucks the form inside, another, thinner and more satisfied smile crosses her face. From the depths of the bag, Cate pulls out a black leather journal, and that smile widens as she makes her way back to Billy again.
"I have an extra journal,” she announces, laughing at Billy’s utter failure to hide his surprised pleasure. “You're welcome to it, if you'd like it. I did use one of the pages, but I think you might appreciate what's there."
She sets the journal down on Billy's desk, standing next to him as she leans over and flips the book open. There is a sketch of a spider on the page, small and delicate looking with a cross pattern on her back, sitting upside down on a rather large web. "This is an Araneus diadematus," Cate murmurs. "A Cross spider, most commonly found in gardens in Scotland. You can see how they received their name." She points to the sketch with one finger, and tilts her head a bit to the side to grin at Billy.
Billy would laugh with joy if it was at all appropriate, but it's not, and he won't. Billy tries to steady his expression, and he looks up at Cate and wonders how she is able to turn from icy calm to warm cheer like this so quickly.
"Thank you,” he says simply, rather than let anything more elaborate or inane tumble from his lips when he takes the journal more greedily than he had planned. "A Cross spider," he nods. "I know this one. I’ve actually seen one, probably before I did something unspeakable to it with m’shoe. They're not poisonous, are they?" Before Cate can answer, Billy's lifted the journal and weighed it in his hands, letting the scent of the leather make its way to his nose. He closes his eyes, and his smile grows wide again. "This is--beyond generous of you, Cate. You must let me pay you for it." Billy digs in his left trouser pocket, but cannot seem to let go of the journal at the same time. When he comes up empty, his wallet probably left behind in the car, he’s torn between irritated and crestfallen, and knows he looks it, too, from the sympathetic pout Cate offers him before she laughs again. "I'll have to return the favour, really. Another one I’ll owe you, Cate."
In the few seconds’ silence that follows, Billy remembers the reason she is here: Dominic. Billy swallows and his expression tightens; he’s sitting here making delighted conversation with a woman who however unknowingly momentarily threatened his newly regained happiness with Dominic, and the memory of that evening and what was and was not resolved makes him feel tired again, in a way he’s fought against since he’d decided that he could make things with Dominic work, whatever the cost. Billy shakes the thoughts off again, and with it as much of that tiredness as he can, and returns his attention to Cate, his smile back in place.
"I have some time before m’first lecture, Cate. I could walk you back to your building? I've heard you've let a little light and air into that cursed office."
"That would be lovely, Bill; thank you." Straightening from where she is still leaning over Billy's desk, Cate tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she retrieves her bag and slips it over her shoulder. "It's not finished yet, so if you don't mind some paint cans and shipping boxes, you're welcome to have a sneak peek. And I'll have you know the only thing I found cursed in that office was the color of the walls."
Billy nods in acknowledgment; most of the offices in the science building have ever been a generic white, slightly yellowed with age and the need of a good washing, and decorated sparingly with diplomas and awards. They’re nothing like Billy’s warm hovel here, or at least he likes to think so; Cate seems to agree, her gaze now taking in the unread newspapers and journals, the portrait of Francis Hutcheson, and yes, Billy’s crookedly framed degrees, surrounded by more personal photographs. Billy knows that the space itself borders on the edge of being as messy as his home, but lately he’s made more of an effort to tidy here than in his own residence. After all, no administrators come to his home; few enough professors come even here. And now that he's suspended the study sessions he used to carry out in his small front room, only one student has been invited inside his home, and thankfully has found reason to stay.
One photo in particular seems to catches Cate's eye, and as she crosses to it so she can have a better look, Billy smiles behind her. It is a graduation photo, Rows of bright-eyed men and women lined up in their caps and gowns smile for the camera, holding high-ranking diplomas with varying degrees of desperation to their grip. Billy is easy to find in the shot, down in the front row and looking not terribly different than he does now, though if Cate were to peer closely at the photo, the date on it would reveal the thing to be more than a decade old. She seems absorbed by the picture, and Billy suddenly feels strange for having never put it away; there’s no real reason to have it out, no real attachment he has to anyone or anything represented inside the frame.
Still, Cate’s distraction allows him his own, and another better look at her, from the way her hair catches the dust-speckled light streaming through his window to the way her smile is much softer now that she seems to find him somewhat less obnoxious than he’s given her reason to think him before, from the way her eyes narrow in concentration at the picture to the way her fingers curl around the edge of her well-loved bag. Bemused by his own reaction to her, Billy shakes his head again and takes a deep breath.
"It's proof. Evidence," Billy laughs at Cate's small surprise when he speaks. "I keep it there to show my students that I was one of them. That if someone like me can survive these years, they can, too." Billy steps forward and runs one finger along the glass of the picture, lowering his voice. "Sometimes they believe me."
Billy stares at the photo for a moment, then turns back to Cate. "Of course, showing them that I was one of them is different from being one of them right now. Ten years ago, some of my colleagues were teaching here already. And they would have been much too hard on me ... I would have been beaten down in this place, maybe worse than at St. Andrews, who knows. Happens enough to these children, and I’m not lucky enough to say I’ve never been one of the hardest on them."
Billy swallows, and then nods firmly, reaching for his keys. "I don't imagine you'd have been in any danger, Cate," he says then. "I was not a particularly good student. I was very distracted. Discontent. Clever, though, and that’ll take you far." Billy shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up again, his smile returned but smaller than before. "Shall we go? Y’can risk me a few more minutes; I’m not nearly as boring outdoors."
They make their way through the corridors without speaking; the building’s begun to fill with professors and early students, and the silence between them is comfortable. Billy can see Cate watches him from the corner of her eye as they walk, and he tries not to shrink from that or her, instead smiling gently and genuinely at those he recognizes and wishing a good morning to those who offer the same.
Once they’re outside however, moving along the pavement across campus, Cate slows her gait and steps closer to Billy, falling in step with his loping stride before she tilts her head and speaks.
"Bill? Can I ask you something?" Billy blinks but nods, and Cate does too as she continues. “I think you’re a bit--hard on yourself. You have to see that people like you here. Your students admire you--”
“No reason they shouldn’t,” Billy says, his smirk thin and wide, and Cate takes a little breath of exasperation.
"Other than the few you tried to give me just now in your office? I like you, Bill. You're certainly not boring, and I wouldn’t have--asked for your friendship if I hadn’t found you interesting. I suppose I'm curious as to why you can't see what everyone else does. There’s no ... shame in being appreciated, Bill. Or liked.”
“That is not what I’m here for,” Billy says sharply and then winces, instantly regretting his words. He stops walking, Cate coming to a halt beside him, and then closes his eyes for a moment, looking for the right thing to say. "I'm sorry. I just ... I'm here to teach these students, not to be their friend, and, and if they like me, if they admire me, then that's--fantastic, it’s great. But it's not-I don't look for it, Cate." Billy grits his teeth and then sighs, pushing his hand through his hair again, at a complete and hopefully momentary loss. Cate's eyes are steely, looking through him in a way that makes Billy stir with interest and profound discomfort at the same time. He can’t blame her, really; he might have reacted the same way to a colleague talking himself down, but he’s tired, and hadn’t planned for this discussion; he’s never had reason to rehearse an explanation for what can’t be explained, least of all to someone he barely knows.
Billy takes a breath and tries to smile, placing his hand gently on Cate's back to bring her forward, and they walk again. "I really do apologize. Perhaps I don't see what seems obvious to others. But let me posit something to you, Cate." Billy's hands fall into his pockets once more, and his words grow softer. "Let’s say that it's now a year from today, and you're walking this same path. Your students see you, smile at you, step out of your way so y'can pass. Some of them speak to you, a few send you glances that would spear you at fifty paces. You understand this, because you did it yourself at school. You hated your teachers, even when you loved them. You respected them and wanted them dead in the same breath. But here you are, walking the same paths, inhaling the same air your professors exhaled. It's comforting. And it's also stifling."
Billy takes Cate's elbow and pulls her gently into an enclosure, off the walkway. They are surrounded by a small circle of trees, and Billy points up around them at the two matching administration buildings on either side of the enclosure. "Academia eats its own, Cate, we all know it and most of the time we don’t care, do we," Billy murmurs, his hand still on her elbow. His grip tightens a little, and his voice deepens. "Most of the time. But not all. I will not be swallowed whole by this place, by St. Andrews or anywhere else. And if the only way I can prevent that is to be liked by my students and ignored by my peers, then that is what I will do."
They are silent for a few seconds, and Billy is suddenly mortified by what he’s said, what he’s offered Cate with no background, the answers he’s given to questions she didn’t ask. He can’t read Cate's reaction, and it makes him feel worse; he had every good intention of indeed being friendly, of being a friend, of actually having a friend in this new professor, but it’s like he can’t manage an hour’s company with her before he finds a new way to fuck it up.
Billy looks down, forcing a laugh, and then pulls Cate gently back out the walkway. "That wasn’t a mess at all, was it," he says. "I love what I do. I just don't particularly like it sometimes. And again, I am sorry you had to hear that. Right, so you've seen me in my cap and gown, heard me rant, watch me cut m'self, and smelled me half-drunk. I have no secrets from you now." Billy's smile feels like it’s back to its challenging warmth, and he looks up at the sciences building. “This must be the place, eh?"
Cate returns his smile and leads the way, Billy following the sound of her heels up the stair and down the halls. They’re as intimidating to Billy now as if he were still a young man, and twice he dodges students too absorbed in their notes to notice his presence directly in front of them. No one has time to look up or offer greetings or do any of the things that make Billy's building more comfortable, but Billy scolds himself before he has a chance to frown at this; the hour is later and the students under different workloads here, and he’s earned no deference from any of them. After another glance in the direction of a harried, sweating young man racing toward a lecture hall, Billy silently thanks random saints that he was never terribly interested in science, other than as one more obstacle on the way to one more piece of freedom-granting paper, to the finish line beyond which he now feels like he’s standing, waiting for Dominic.
Billy lets out a low breath of irritation that his thoughts are so easily interrupted, but replaces his smile the moment Cate looks his way. His fists clench in his pockets at her shining, too-bright gaze, but he does not flinch. She smiles, too, and then rummages in her bag for the keys to her office as Billy rocks back on his heels behind her, waiting. After a moment she ushers him inside the office, and Billy inhales the smell of paint and the way it mixes with Cate's own essence of chemical and nature, of flowers and steel. He blinks as he looks around the room, trying to remember when his office ever looked like this, but then that would be never; his office has always been warm, inviting, dark in the same, just a powerful way that this room is becoming filled with light. There is something forced about it to Billy's mind, though; Cate is dragging the light inside, chasing away the demons that have haunted this office with her own brand of intimidation and glossy sheen.
Still, she’ll make this place home, Billy thinks as he follows Cate’s nod toward her guest chair and sits, watching Cate move around the room, her dress swishing lightly and brushing against his leg as she moves around him. A habitat. A glittering, bright spider's web so tidy no dust or creature will ever have the opportunity to dance and settle in the shafts of natural light that fight their way in on their own, or at least try. And that’s all you can do, Billy supposes; try, try again and harder and better until you win whatever fight you’ve got coming to you, even when it’s not a fight at all, but steps in your path wearing bright colours and a wide smile and bearing gifts.
To be continued.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo, with magickalmolly
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word count: 4839
Summary: Discussing Dominic, and then some.
Index
Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy's already into his second cup of coffee, and it's only eight o'clock in the morning. He has at least an hour before students begin trampling outside his office door, nearly ninety minutes before his first class of the day, and it’s in these quiet moments that Billy remembers he loves these buildings, this work; he loves to wander the corridors as he’s doing now, and inhale the scent of chalk dust, floor wax and musty textbooks; he loves to sample the coffee from the small shop on the other side of campus, loves to interact with students just as interested in philosophy as he is, or at least can pretend they are.
But there’s more weighing on his mind today, most heavily the upcoming long bank holiday weekend and the idea of taking himself and Dominic well out of town. Billy smiles into the steam of his coffee as he brings it to his lips. The continent is where he wants to be; specifically in the one city that owns as much of Billy’s heart as does Glasgow. Their attempts at French would be amusing, Billy supposes, knowing all too well his own limitations with the language, and then of course there would be the food. Billy's stomach rumbles, empty and unhappy, at the very thought.
Of course, it’s not a given that Dominic might want to go anywhere with Billy over the break, not even on holiday; there’s a chance Dominic would prefer to go north and home to deal with those relatives of his rather than spend every waking moment with Billy and his overarching need, his desire to shag him against anything that won't roll away beneath them. That chance is a slim one, granted, but it does exist.
Billy’s made it to his office now, and after throwing his briefcase down, he settles into his chair and props his feet on the desk, sipping pleasantly at the rest of the coffee. Only a few more days to go, Billy thinks, and he reaches for the last two essays he might have finished marking last night if there hadn’t been the usual pleasant distractions. He already knows they’re good; he’d left them for last on purpose, knowing they wouldn’t require much more from him than a few short notes and a grateful high mark. He’s composing the last of those notes when a short run of brittle taps on the doorframe makes him look up to meet the gaze of Cate, peering around the door like a bright-eyed cheerful thief unafraid to be caught.
"Professor Blanchett," Billy says, sitting up straight and bringing his feet off the desk before he beckons her inside. "Good morning."
"Cate. Call me Cate, please. And I hope it will be good. Not too busy for a moment, are you?" She enters Billy's office, a bright flash of colour against all the warm wood, and crosses to him, stopping just a few steps away at the sound of the wheels on Billy’s chair rolling backward. Being the master of justification that he is, Billy can write off his nervousness as the result of too much caffeine. But in truth, Billy knows that he is made more than nervous by this woman. She's walked away from him twice in the space of less than a week, both times visibly irritated by one or another slip-up he's unintentionally made, and Billy is determined that will not give her reason to find him so obnoxious today. That's the theory, anyway.
Before he can think harder on that or explain that he’s not that busy at all, Billy works out the probable reason for Cate’s visit; that form needs can only mean that she’s here about Dominic. Billy swallows, the nervousness back with an irritating vengeance. "I assume this is about a student, then? I've recommended a few of my them to speak with you. They don't--” Billy throws a hand and then pushes it quickly up into the back of his hair, a habit he knows from experience betrays his nervousness but one he’s never been able to kick. “Necessarily feel they're getting a good grasp of science this term, and I thought. Well. I thought you might be able to help." Another pause, and then Billy clears his throat. “How can I help you?"
Cate smiles, clearly and with an easy grace pretending not to notice Billy’s distraction, and retrieves a notepad from her bag, flipping pages and then finally humming as she taps a page. "I need a session transfer paper for ..." Cate checks her notes again and then looks up at Billy. "Dominic Monaghan. He said you were his advisor."
"Right," Billy says, but doesn’t move yet from his perch behind the desk. He's considering Professor Blanchett--Cate, Billy reminds himself, the staccato sound of it sharp in his head--carefully now, hoping she’s not just faking it, and can’t actually see how agitated she makes him. She’s just another teacher, Billy thinks as he finally turns to his small filing cabinet. Just on a professional errand, and just happening to look like a spring morning in the middle of my office.
“Monaghan," Billy murmurs as he flips through a small drawer of files. "Dominic. There we go." He pulls out a thick file and weighs it appreciatively in his hand. "I'm pleased he came to see you. I'm concerned that he may not be receiving the best attention--well, the best experience in his Biology lecture. Dr. Stinson seems to not spend as much time as he could on concepts, and there are students who learn in ... different ways." Billy sighs. "He is transferring to your lecture, yes?" Billy waits for Cate's nod, and then continues. "I know he'll be better off with you."
The words surprise Billy, and he checks himself, reaching for his coffee again. He finds the transfer form and begins scribbling a few notes, more to calm himself than anything else. He stops before his signature line, and raises his eyes to Cate's blue gaze. He cannot read her nearly as well as he’d like--has not been able to since they met-but he feels caught in the depths of her eyes somehow. The images of spiders and their webs make themselves vivid and ridiculous in his thoughts, but even after he frowns and tries to shake them off, they don't disappear.
"Cate," Billy says, his voice softer than he’d ever allow it to carry in class. "I know this has been on very short notice, and I appreciate your agreeing to allow Dominic to move to your section. I've already told him that you're a force to be reckoned with.” Billy's smile slides across his face before he's even aware of it, and Cate laughs, coming around the desk to lean against it now, just far enough away from Billy that he doesn’t flinch. "And you won't allow him to slide. But it's crucial he understands this class, Cate; it’s absolutely vital, and not just because he can’t finish without it.”
Billy stops himself again; he sounds too invested, perhaps, more vehement than anyone would believe he has reason to be, and so he forces himself to relax, shrugging a bit before he continues as if this conversation could be about any one of the students represented by those folders and files Billy keeps tucked away. “As his advisor, I've made every effort to get him into the classes we both see as beneficial. Biology is a core element--nothing to do with his concentrations, but everyone needs a good grasp on the sciences. Dominic is no exception." Billy looks up momentarily from his scribbling, and then back down again. “You’re looking well, Cate. Settling in nicely here?”
"Thank you,” Cate nods, and then tilts her head charmingly. “And yes, I think I am. It's been a terribly busy week; both, with moving into my office and trying to piece together all the lectures where Dr. Mehner left off, but everyone's been so understanding." She’s silent for a moment, and when Billy looks up again, her smile is very warm. "You especially, Bill. I'm sorry if I've come across as less than friendly; I feel a bit--out of place. It's hard to be the newest member of a well-established staff, especially with the strangeness of coming in mid-term like this, but you've been kind to me, and I wanted you to know I appreciate it."
Reaching across to where Billy still holds his pen, Cate touches the back of his hand softly, just the slightest brush. The hair on the back of Billy's neck rises at her touch, and Billy concentrates fiercely to keep from looking away, to back down from what’s not even really a challenge here. “I’d like it if we could be friends,” Cate says then, and the impassivity Billy’s forced in his expression seems suddenly ridiculous; he nods slowly, and releases the pen he’s holding, sliding his hand from underneath hers to fold in its opposite as he leans back in his chair.
"Of course," Billy says gently. "’s not the most welcoming of schools, is it? Better than St. Andrews, though, as you might have noticed." At this, his smile reappears. "At least we’re not actively encouraged to torture students here, whatever the temptation."
Cate laughs again, and it’s Billy’s turn to tilt his head, his mind working now to process indeed how lovely the woman across from him appears today; she’s softer around the edges in a way that Billy can certainly appreciate, regardless of his personal preferences. She looks happier, and Billy admires her ability to have found a little of that happiness so quickly at Baskerville, when it took him almost a year to find his feet. One week into his first term, Billy still got lost on the way to his office; he cannot imagine having had to take over another professor's classes at the same time.
"I've always thought you friendly, Cate," Billy says then, returning his attention to the form he’s looked over a lot longer than necessary now. "I've just been a distracted bastard, and rude besides. I'm terrible at first, second, fifteenth impressions. I've been meaning to ask you, actually-- that journal you had ... I'm afraid I've lost mine in my tip of a house, and I was wondering ... it's actually irrelevant, actually; we’ll just leave it." Billy laughs and shrugs again, signing his name with an unnecessary flourish at the bottom of the form. He makes to hand it to Cate, then pulls it back suddenly, his face going serious again. Billy forces himself to meet Cate's eyes, measuring his words carefully.
"I owe you several favours for this, Cate. You shouldn't be expected to just take on another student, especially one who's been run through Stinson's mill. But I think you will find that Dominic is a good student. And I know you’ll find that I’m grateful to you for allowing him to show you that."
Billy tears his copy from the form and smooths it over his blotter, his own features creasing as if to make up for it. "I'm probably speaking out of turn--again," he laughs bitterly, "but I'm bothered that you feel out of place, Cate. It's one thing to be nervous about starting a new tenure, but you seem to have handled that well. It's just that ... you've not been harassed-no one's been rude to you, have they?"
Cate’s smile looks like it comes automatically, if not easily, and Cate shakes her head. "No, as I said, most everyone's been better than I had expected. I suppose it’s just a matter of finding my way around, and finding my place without shaking anyone else out of theirs. You understand." At Billy's nod, Cate's smile becomes more genuine, and she settles more against his desk, shifting up to nearly sit upon it, and her voice softens as she continues. "I imagine you've gone through this yourself a few times, Bill. It's difficult to be good at what you do, but be considerably younger than most of your peers. I don't like feeling I have to prove myself to people I don't have to answer to. I know I should ignore it, but--that’s not very much in my nature."
Billy lets the silence move between them for a long minute, and then Cate picks up her copy of the student transfer form from where it is sitting on Billy's desk. She skims it as Billy watches, wondering what her nature would make of his scattered penmanship. At least he’s spelled her name correctly, that much Billy remembers; anything else he’d left on the form might as well have been gibberish.
Rising from the edge of Billy's desk, Cate moves back to her valise still sitting on the empty chair, and as she tucks the form inside, another, thinner and more satisfied smile crosses her face. From the depths of the bag, Cate pulls out a black leather journal, and that smile widens as she makes her way back to Billy again.
"I have an extra journal,” she announces, laughing at Billy’s utter failure to hide his surprised pleasure. “You're welcome to it, if you'd like it. I did use one of the pages, but I think you might appreciate what's there."
She sets the journal down on Billy's desk, standing next to him as she leans over and flips the book open. There is a sketch of a spider on the page, small and delicate looking with a cross pattern on her back, sitting upside down on a rather large web. "This is an Araneus diadematus," Cate murmurs. "A Cross spider, most commonly found in gardens in Scotland. You can see how they received their name." She points to the sketch with one finger, and tilts her head a bit to the side to grin at Billy.
Billy would laugh with joy if it was at all appropriate, but it's not, and he won't. Billy tries to steady his expression, and he looks up at Cate and wonders how she is able to turn from icy calm to warm cheer like this so quickly.
"Thank you,” he says simply, rather than let anything more elaborate or inane tumble from his lips when he takes the journal more greedily than he had planned. "A Cross spider," he nods. "I know this one. I’ve actually seen one, probably before I did something unspeakable to it with m’shoe. They're not poisonous, are they?" Before Cate can answer, Billy's lifted the journal and weighed it in his hands, letting the scent of the leather make its way to his nose. He closes his eyes, and his smile grows wide again. "This is--beyond generous of you, Cate. You must let me pay you for it." Billy digs in his left trouser pocket, but cannot seem to let go of the journal at the same time. When he comes up empty, his wallet probably left behind in the car, he’s torn between irritated and crestfallen, and knows he looks it, too, from the sympathetic pout Cate offers him before she laughs again. "I'll have to return the favour, really. Another one I’ll owe you, Cate."
In the few seconds’ silence that follows, Billy remembers the reason she is here: Dominic. Billy swallows and his expression tightens; he’s sitting here making delighted conversation with a woman who however unknowingly momentarily threatened his newly regained happiness with Dominic, and the memory of that evening and what was and was not resolved makes him feel tired again, in a way he’s fought against since he’d decided that he could make things with Dominic work, whatever the cost. Billy shakes the thoughts off again, and with it as much of that tiredness as he can, and returns his attention to Cate, his smile back in place.
"I have some time before m’first lecture, Cate. I could walk you back to your building? I've heard you've let a little light and air into that cursed office."
"That would be lovely, Bill; thank you." Straightening from where she is still leaning over Billy's desk, Cate tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she retrieves her bag and slips it over her shoulder. "It's not finished yet, so if you don't mind some paint cans and shipping boxes, you're welcome to have a sneak peek. And I'll have you know the only thing I found cursed in that office was the color of the walls."
Billy nods in acknowledgment; most of the offices in the science building have ever been a generic white, slightly yellowed with age and the need of a good washing, and decorated sparingly with diplomas and awards. They’re nothing like Billy’s warm hovel here, or at least he likes to think so; Cate seems to agree, her gaze now taking in the unread newspapers and journals, the portrait of Francis Hutcheson, and yes, Billy’s crookedly framed degrees, surrounded by more personal photographs. Billy knows that the space itself borders on the edge of being as messy as his home, but lately he’s made more of an effort to tidy here than in his own residence. After all, no administrators come to his home; few enough professors come even here. And now that he's suspended the study sessions he used to carry out in his small front room, only one student has been invited inside his home, and thankfully has found reason to stay.
One photo in particular seems to catches Cate's eye, and as she crosses to it so she can have a better look, Billy smiles behind her. It is a graduation photo, Rows of bright-eyed men and women lined up in their caps and gowns smile for the camera, holding high-ranking diplomas with varying degrees of desperation to their grip. Billy is easy to find in the shot, down in the front row and looking not terribly different than he does now, though if Cate were to peer closely at the photo, the date on it would reveal the thing to be more than a decade old. She seems absorbed by the picture, and Billy suddenly feels strange for having never put it away; there’s no real reason to have it out, no real attachment he has to anyone or anything represented inside the frame.
Still, Cate’s distraction allows him his own, and another better look at her, from the way her hair catches the dust-speckled light streaming through his window to the way her smile is much softer now that she seems to find him somewhat less obnoxious than he’s given her reason to think him before, from the way her eyes narrow in concentration at the picture to the way her fingers curl around the edge of her well-loved bag. Bemused by his own reaction to her, Billy shakes his head again and takes a deep breath.
"It's proof. Evidence," Billy laughs at Cate's small surprise when he speaks. "I keep it there to show my students that I was one of them. That if someone like me can survive these years, they can, too." Billy steps forward and runs one finger along the glass of the picture, lowering his voice. "Sometimes they believe me."
Billy stares at the photo for a moment, then turns back to Cate. "Of course, showing them that I was one of them is different from being one of them right now. Ten years ago, some of my colleagues were teaching here already. And they would have been much too hard on me ... I would have been beaten down in this place, maybe worse than at St. Andrews, who knows. Happens enough to these children, and I’m not lucky enough to say I’ve never been one of the hardest on them."
Billy swallows, and then nods firmly, reaching for his keys. "I don't imagine you'd have been in any danger, Cate," he says then. "I was not a particularly good student. I was very distracted. Discontent. Clever, though, and that’ll take you far." Billy shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up again, his smile returned but smaller than before. "Shall we go? Y’can risk me a few more minutes; I’m not nearly as boring outdoors."
They make their way through the corridors without speaking; the building’s begun to fill with professors and early students, and the silence between them is comfortable. Billy can see Cate watches him from the corner of her eye as they walk, and he tries not to shrink from that or her, instead smiling gently and genuinely at those he recognizes and wishing a good morning to those who offer the same.
Once they’re outside however, moving along the pavement across campus, Cate slows her gait and steps closer to Billy, falling in step with his loping stride before she tilts her head and speaks.
"Bill? Can I ask you something?" Billy blinks but nods, and Cate does too as she continues. “I think you’re a bit--hard on yourself. You have to see that people like you here. Your students admire you--”
“No reason they shouldn’t,” Billy says, his smirk thin and wide, and Cate takes a little breath of exasperation.
"Other than the few you tried to give me just now in your office? I like you, Bill. You're certainly not boring, and I wouldn’t have--asked for your friendship if I hadn’t found you interesting. I suppose I'm curious as to why you can't see what everyone else does. There’s no ... shame in being appreciated, Bill. Or liked.”
“That is not what I’m here for,” Billy says sharply and then winces, instantly regretting his words. He stops walking, Cate coming to a halt beside him, and then closes his eyes for a moment, looking for the right thing to say. "I'm sorry. I just ... I'm here to teach these students, not to be their friend, and, and if they like me, if they admire me, then that's--fantastic, it’s great. But it's not-I don't look for it, Cate." Billy grits his teeth and then sighs, pushing his hand through his hair again, at a complete and hopefully momentary loss. Cate's eyes are steely, looking through him in a way that makes Billy stir with interest and profound discomfort at the same time. He can’t blame her, really; he might have reacted the same way to a colleague talking himself down, but he’s tired, and hadn’t planned for this discussion; he’s never had reason to rehearse an explanation for what can’t be explained, least of all to someone he barely knows.
Billy takes a breath and tries to smile, placing his hand gently on Cate's back to bring her forward, and they walk again. "I really do apologize. Perhaps I don't see what seems obvious to others. But let me posit something to you, Cate." Billy's hands fall into his pockets once more, and his words grow softer. "Let’s say that it's now a year from today, and you're walking this same path. Your students see you, smile at you, step out of your way so y'can pass. Some of them speak to you, a few send you glances that would spear you at fifty paces. You understand this, because you did it yourself at school. You hated your teachers, even when you loved them. You respected them and wanted them dead in the same breath. But here you are, walking the same paths, inhaling the same air your professors exhaled. It's comforting. And it's also stifling."
Billy takes Cate's elbow and pulls her gently into an enclosure, off the walkway. They are surrounded by a small circle of trees, and Billy points up around them at the two matching administration buildings on either side of the enclosure. "Academia eats its own, Cate, we all know it and most of the time we don’t care, do we," Billy murmurs, his hand still on her elbow. His grip tightens a little, and his voice deepens. "Most of the time. But not all. I will not be swallowed whole by this place, by St. Andrews or anywhere else. And if the only way I can prevent that is to be liked by my students and ignored by my peers, then that is what I will do."
They are silent for a few seconds, and Billy is suddenly mortified by what he’s said, what he’s offered Cate with no background, the answers he’s given to questions she didn’t ask. He can’t read Cate's reaction, and it makes him feel worse; he had every good intention of indeed being friendly, of being a friend, of actually having a friend in this new professor, but it’s like he can’t manage an hour’s company with her before he finds a new way to fuck it up.
Billy looks down, forcing a laugh, and then pulls Cate gently back out the walkway. "That wasn’t a mess at all, was it," he says. "I love what I do. I just don't particularly like it sometimes. And again, I am sorry you had to hear that. Right, so you've seen me in my cap and gown, heard me rant, watch me cut m'self, and smelled me half-drunk. I have no secrets from you now." Billy's smile feels like it’s back to its challenging warmth, and he looks up at the sciences building. “This must be the place, eh?"
Cate returns his smile and leads the way, Billy following the sound of her heels up the stair and down the halls. They’re as intimidating to Billy now as if he were still a young man, and twice he dodges students too absorbed in their notes to notice his presence directly in front of them. No one has time to look up or offer greetings or do any of the things that make Billy's building more comfortable, but Billy scolds himself before he has a chance to frown at this; the hour is later and the students under different workloads here, and he’s earned no deference from any of them. After another glance in the direction of a harried, sweating young man racing toward a lecture hall, Billy silently thanks random saints that he was never terribly interested in science, other than as one more obstacle on the way to one more piece of freedom-granting paper, to the finish line beyond which he now feels like he’s standing, waiting for Dominic.
Billy lets out a low breath of irritation that his thoughts are so easily interrupted, but replaces his smile the moment Cate looks his way. His fists clench in his pockets at her shining, too-bright gaze, but he does not flinch. She smiles, too, and then rummages in her bag for the keys to her office as Billy rocks back on his heels behind her, waiting. After a moment she ushers him inside the office, and Billy inhales the smell of paint and the way it mixes with Cate's own essence of chemical and nature, of flowers and steel. He blinks as he looks around the room, trying to remember when his office ever looked like this, but then that would be never; his office has always been warm, inviting, dark in the same, just a powerful way that this room is becoming filled with light. There is something forced about it to Billy's mind, though; Cate is dragging the light inside, chasing away the demons that have haunted this office with her own brand of intimidation and glossy sheen.
Still, she’ll make this place home, Billy thinks as he follows Cate’s nod toward her guest chair and sits, watching Cate move around the room, her dress swishing lightly and brushing against his leg as she moves around him. A habitat. A glittering, bright spider's web so tidy no dust or creature will ever have the opportunity to dance and settle in the shafts of natural light that fight their way in on their own, or at least try. And that’s all you can do, Billy supposes; try, try again and harder and better until you win whatever fight you’ve got coming to you, even when it’s not a fight at all, but steps in your path wearing bright colours and a wide smile and bearing gifts.
To be continued.