fandomhigh | Tara's office hours, Friday 10-2pm.

Archie appears in the doorway, holding his hat in his hands.

"Professor Maclay?"

"Archie!" Tara's look is pure relief when she sees him.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I heard you were taken to the clinic, and I meant to visit, but..." she shakes her head. "I was really worried about you."

He smiles. "Thank you. I am glad to be back . . . glad to be alive." This last phrase is tinged with an odd bitterness. "I was told to speak to you and arrange for all the classes I missed?"

Tara nods. "Come sit down, okay? Can you... can you tell me what happened? Classes aren't a problem, we'll get to that in a minute, but... where were you?"

Archie casts a glance at the door before sitting down. "May I? I'd prefer that this not be common knowledge just yet . . ."

"Of course," Tara says immediately, crossing to the door and shutting it. "And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I just... I was worried, and I'd like to know."

"Someone needs to know," he says, lowering himself carefully into the chair. "In case any other . . . incidents occur."

He buries his face in his hands for several moments, drawing in long, steady breaths to steel himself before he starts to speak. "That damned locker, 327 -- I fell in. I am susceptible to fits of a certain kind, beyond my control, that come on me now and again. And it just so happens that one came over me near enough to locker 327 for me to become its victim."

Archie looks up at her, a distinctly haunted look in his eyes now. "They tell me I was gone for two weeks, but I was there for months, it seems. I saw my own life, and things I didn't consciously remember living, but I knew them. Memories that make me question everything I thought I knew about my life. And . . ." He swallows hard and looks away. "I saw how it ended."

"You saw your death?" Tara questions softly, making a mental note to cordon off that damned locker.

Archie nods again. "Not in a prophetic sense, mind you -- I know now that it did happen, and for whatever reason I was sent back, sent here." He rubs a hand over his eyes and sighs. "I still can't quite remember everything; it's too confusing. Everyone here may as well be a complete stranger to me, for all that I can ascertain where they fit into my memories."

"You died, and were sent back," Tara repeats, her voice tinged with sympathy. "Archie... if it helps, you're not the only one. And if you ever need to talk about dying, or what happened afterwards... I've been there."

Then, her voice a little lighter, she adds, "well, there's not too much to the story between me and you. You were the first friend I made in Fandom, and we sometimes watch the stars together. You've got an identical twin who you're not related to. Other than that... I can't help much. I'm sorry."

This last bit of news actually coaxes a laugh from him. "An identical twin I'm not related to? Well, that will guarantee at least one more familiar face."

He sobers quickly, though, and asks, "You -- you were sent back too? Do you know why?"

"Yeah," Tara replies. "I'm... call it a research assignment. I'm here to watch over a few people, do a little investigating on ethical issues. Perfect place and job to do it in, so they needed someone here, and they chose me because... well, because I had the right qualifications, I guess. They didn't... they didn't give you a reason, did they."

It's not a question, more of an accusation, but the anger is not directed at Archie.

He shakes his head. "No. And quite frankly I'm not sure that I want to know. All I do know is that I have this chance, and I don't care to waste it. However my life takes shape from this point on."

"That's a good attitude to have," Tara agrees. "Now, how would you like to arrange the catching up? You've missed one assignment, in Ethics, but Angela was partnered with you and negotiated for an alternate one, so I'm happy for you to collaborate with her on that, if you like. Other than that it's just class discussion. We can either talk it out - all at once or in a couple of sessions, or I can write down the questions for you and you can address them in your own time.

"Either way, don't push yourself. You're only just back, it's been a traumatic time. If it takes you a month or so to catch up, that's perfectly okay."

"Angela," he repeats. "What is her last name? I feel I should apologize to her for inconveniencing her. And I fully intend to catch up to all my late work as soon as I possibly can, and I'm sure Doctor Wilson will have a thing or two to say to me if I do push myself too hard."

Archie fidgets a bit and starts picking at his hat. "I hope you will bear with me for a bit while I get adjusted again."

"Angela Chase," Tara replies. "She's in the Monday class, you can talk to her then. And really, I don't think it was much of an inconvenience. She didn't like the assignment, and you gave her the perfect excuse to do a different one."

She looks at Archie, sympathy and concern written plainly across her face. "Archie, I will bear with you for as long as you need. Just talk to me, okay? If things are too much for you, if you need time or support, or just to talk... I want to help."

"Thank you, Professor. I very much appreciate it." He smiles at her again, looking somewhat less troubled, though it's clear that his recent experiences won't leave him any time soon. "What was this assignment, anyhow?"

"The original assignment was an exercise on slavery, designed to teach the designated masters that the responsibility was not one way, and the designated slaves that free will cannot be removed by labelling someone as property. It had... mixed success." She shrugs. "Angela found it a little too confronting, and asked to do a research paper instead."

[ooc: Sorry for the delayed response, we had a power brownout.]

Archie's forehead creases in thought. "Owing to certain experiences in my past, I may well have had difficulties with the assignment too. Still, I feel badly about leaving her without a partner -- will I be expected to do the same research paper?"

[OOC: No worries, I saw you sign off and figured something had happened.]

"In your own time, yes, but I'm happy to give you as long as you need to complete it. I'd like you to select a real-world society that practiced slavery, and use it as a case example to discuss the responsibilities and restrictions of both slaves and their masters, with a focus on what options the slaves have to rebel if they are mistreated, and what if anything prevents their masters from abusing their power."

Bel waited until no one was around the office, then knocked on Tara's door.

"Come on in, Belthazor," Tara calls.

"Is it okay if I shut the door?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"Of course," Tara replies, settling into a comfortable chair ~~and putting a NFB on the thread~~.

Bel shut the door, then stood before Tara. "I, um...how are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm okay," she reassures him. "I... it was a really, really crazy few days for me. And I mean that in the most literal possible sense. I hear you've had a bad time of it, too?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Went to talk to somebody, and it didn't go well. Kind of...lost my temper."

"Do you want to talk about it? Or are we studiously pretending the whole thing never happened?"

"Not sure what to say," he said. "You seem much better at least."

"Yeah..." Tara replies quietly. "Um... about that. I wanted to apologise to you."

She looks down, shaking her head. "Then apologise, stupid."

Looking up, she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and says firmly, "Belthazor, I'm sorry for my behaviour the other night. I provoked you, and I am deeply sorry for the pain that caused you."

Belthazor blinked at Tara in confusion. "You're apologizing...to me?" he said.

Tara nods, biting her lip. "Can you forgive me?"

"Wait...I'm the one who...." He looked meaningfully at her neck. "Why should I forgive you?"

Tara touches her neck, wincing a little as her fingers brush against the sore skin. "I know you were, but... you were in a bad place. You weren't strong enough to control yourself, and that wasn't your fault. I provoked you, and you ended up doing something that hurt you. I'm responsible for part of that pain - and I'm sorry for it."

Bel shook his head. "You didn't provoke me, unless you count just being...what you are. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm the one who needs to apologize."

"Bel... I'd be grateful for your apology. Really I would. But you were in predator mode, and I smelled like victim."

She looks down. "Okay, I always smell like victim. I know that. But it was worse that day, and... if I'd been stronger, you might have been able to control it. Waving my fear in your face... you're no more expected to ignore that than I would expect an alligator to ignore a lump of meat waved in its face."

"I don't think it would have mattered how strong you were," Bel said quietly. "It wasn't just that that...attracted me." But her fear made it all the more delicious, he wouldn't admit aloud.

Tara cocks her head, looking at Bel appraisingly. "So what was it?"

He didn't answer, but looked upward meaningfully.

Tara nods understandingly. Wordlessly, she offers him a slip of paper.

Cupping his hand over the paper so no camera could zoom in on what he was writing, Bel wrote:

It was because you're a witch.

Tara leans in to see what Bel has written, and gently presses his hand down to cover the paper once she's done.

"How about I buy you breakfast, Mr. Belthazor? To show you there's no hard feelings?" She also casts a significant look upwards. And to go somewhere we can actually talk.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "That'd be great."

[ooc: I'm being called off to do RL stuff, and I suspect by the time I get back you'll be asleep. What day should we plan this for?]

[OOC: I'll be around all weekend, so whatever works for you. I may or may not be up when you get back, as I went to nap for an hour at 8:00 PM and woke up at 1:00 AM my time. But probably best to plan a time. :) ]

Tara's office hours, Friday 10-2pm.

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