Okay people, this is my second fic. Please, please, please, read and review. Comments and any other criticism are accepted with open arms. I love you all!
Mo
Alright! Re-uploaded, and stuff!
Chapter 1Everything Happens To Me.
August Macgregor walked through the ancient stone archways of Gotham University. She relished these little private walks, where she could study the fine stonework and the elegant trails of ivy hanging from the walls. August checked her watch briefly, noting that she had half an hour until her interview. It had been a gift from a friend who knew her well, and it featured Darth Vader on the watchband, and the Star Wars logo on the face.
The position of teacher's assistant was a popular one at Gotham U, and one that paid a small salary. But in return for the long hours, the students got to learn the particular ins and outs of the college better than anyone, and so succeeded far more than most other students.
August sighed contentedly as she sat down on a cold stone bench and took a large sketchbook from her messenger bag. She brushed a short strand of dark hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and started to sketch a column covered with a thin strand of creeping green foliage.
August was an Art History major with a minor in Culinary Arts. She had wanted to attend military school like her father, but after he passed away the desire went with him. He had always ruffled her hair and told her that someday she would be an ace at whatever she did, whether it was flying planes or trimming hedges. He would always encourage her to do what made her happy, and she had continued to let that be her life's goal.
August shook herself out of her dreamy reverie, and glanced at her watch again. She had two minutes to make it across campus.
"Oh great."
She quickly shoved her sketchbook and pencil into her bag, and started jogging at a furious pace. She burst into the swinging doors of the dean's office and sat down next to the dozen other students waiting for their interviews. August glanced at her watch yet again, as she smoothed down her hair and her black t-shirt. She had made it with thirty seconds to spare. A moment later, a door down the hallway banged open, and a stern female voice called down the corridor. "Macgregor, August."
August stood up, and the girl next to her murmured, "good luck"
"Thanks, you too"
The interview room was filled with professors seated at a long table, most of whom she recognized. She sat down in the cold metal folding chair, trying to hide her nervousness with a crooked smile.
"Now August," the Dean began, "I understand you're majoring in Art History, with a minor in Culinary Arts."
"Yes sir."
" I presume that you'd like to be a teacher's assistant for either of these positions. Are there any other classes you'd be interested in T.A.-ing for?"
"Anything but math. I'm horrible at math."
"Very well. The results will be posted tomorrow on the office doors. You're finished."
The next day, Friday, August nearly ran from her dorm to the front of the Dean's office. She searched for a minute for her name among the hundreds of others, and finally found it. She glanced at the professor's name, assuming it would be Mr. Espinoza, the Art History professor, or Mr. Merck, the Culinary Arts head chef and teacher.
She was mistaken.
"I can't believe they put me with the Psychology Professor! They must hate me or something! I barely know anything about psychology!" she complained loudly to her roommate, Marie.
"Didn't you take a year long course in it during high school?"
"But I'll be working with a psychiatrist! Someone who teaches the class! I'm going to feel like an idiot."
"Well, just bite the bullet, and if it's too rough, you can always quit."
"… Thanks babe"
"No problem. Now go out there and lighten up that professor. I'm sure he's a drag. Don't forget these." Marie handed August her headphones and iPod.
"Thanks, Mom"
August narrowly missed getting hit by a vengeful pillow on her way out the door. Marie was such a motherly type, always able to listen to her problems and she was good at cheering people up. Her whole floor referred to her as the dorm mom, and always came to her with questions and concerns.
August walked from her dorm room towards the Medical and Science Wing, and eventually found the Professor's office. It was around 5:oo when she rapped lightly on the door, and it was soon answered by a skinny man with jet-black hair and glasses over icy blue eyes.
"Ah, you must be Miss Macgregor."
"Yes sir. Mr. Um…"
"It's Doctor actually, Crane."
"Doctor Crane. Pleasure. I'm sure it'll be an adventure."
August briefly looked him over. He was just a bit taller than her, and good-looking in a nerdy sort of way. His eyes were very striking, an almost surprisingly deep, cold, blue. His office was small but comfortable, with dark wood and masculine leather chairs. The very large desk that took up much of the space was strewn with papers, but they were semi-organized in some type of system.
August sat down in a leather chair facing the large desk, and crossed her legs politely. She had chosen to wear an elegant pinstriped pair of pants and a v-necked black top, so as to appear semi-professional for her first day of work. It had been a really funny scenario looking for some clean clothes in her room, all while Marie was making suggestions and throwing articles of clothing at her.
"What is this, Marie? Do you want me to look like a hooker?"
"Honey, you look like a hooker in everything."
"Thanks. So very much."
August mentally shook herself, and returned her mind to the office.
"So, Doctor, what is it exactly that I'll be doing?" She smiled lopsidedly at him, trying to hide her disappointment at her assignment. "This guy looks almost too young to be a doctor…" August thought to herself.
The Doctor paused for a moment, and then turned around from the filing he was completing.
"Mostly filing papers, not grading essays, I hear that you've not taken any psychology classes."
"I could always check them for grammar and spelling."
"Good point." Crane smiled awkwardly and adjusted his glasses, averting his eyes from hers to the current essay on his desk. "I'm sorry you didn't get one of the positions that you wanted. I trust you know why."
"Er, not really."
"Well. Let's say some professors tend to choose students that are more, shall we say, involved." The Professor smirked, letting the remark sink in.
"Oh. As in… oh. Well, that would explain it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright. I'm not a big proponent of sleeping with professors."
"Neither am I."
Crane shuffled papers around on his desk for a moment, and shoved a stack over to her side, with a red ink pen neatly placed on top. August took the stack and began to delve into her first assignment: correcting one hundred papers on the same subject that she knew absolutely nothing about. She clicked on her iPod and slid the Sony headphones around the back of her neck. She selected Johnny cash, and got to work.
An odd, yet pleasant silence ensued, which was broken only by the scratching of pens. That was, until August hit the pause button and lifted one side of the headphones off of her ear.
"Um, professor, may I trouble you with a question?"
"That depends on the question."
"What exactly is Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy? I've heard of just plain Munchausen syndrome, but… "
Crane cleared his throat and began his explanation, in what August thought to be a rather superior tone.
"Good question. In Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, a caregiver, usually the mother, feigns or induces an illness in another person, usually his or her child, to gain attention and sympathy as the "worried" parent. Although MSbP cases with feigned or induced physical illness receive the most attention, it is also possible in parents who emotionally abuse their child, then claim psychiatric and/or genetic problems."
"So a mother could, hypothetically, give her child too much asprin, and make the poor kid sick, just to get attention."
"Exactly."
"That's Fun"
"I suppose you could put it that way."
"Oh, Doctor, can I come a little late on Thursday? I have a chiropractor's apointment, and believe me, I won't be able to get another one for quite a while."
"That's fine with me… I would have pegged you as too young to have a bad back."
August didn't quite know what to say to that, and so just went on correcting her papers. Her Chiropractor had told her a few years ago that her back problems were because of her breasts, and he had urged her to get breast reduction surgery. She tried losing weight, but they still wouldn't go away. After checking out the costs and risks of surgery, she decided that it wasn't worth it, and so constantly lived with the stares, and people talking to her chest rather than her face. August had earned a reputation as a tough girl in high school because she frequently got into fistfights with certain lecherous boys. She smiled to herself as she pictured a schoolyard victory. The silence returned, and the two sat like that until about 7:00.
August, of course, was the first to break the silence.
"How about some dinner? I have the keys to the kitchen…" she said enticingly.
"Alright."
"Are you hungry for anything in particular?"
"Not really."
"Well then we'll just have to see what's around in the kitchen."
They walked together liesurly in the dark, apparently at ease with each other. The pair would occasionally pass students in the archways making out, and Dr. Crane would yell at them to "Break it up." August would snicker, and then they would return to their silence.
Once they reached the culinary arts building, August reached for her keys, but the door swung open as soon as she put her hand on it.
"That's odd… normally no one is here at this hour."
They continued into the hallway, and turned into a door marked : Test and Demonstration Kitchen. August pushed the door open and stopped suddenly, letting a small, startled gasp escape her lips.
Dr. Crane walked into her by accident.
"Ow. What's the matter?" he asked quietly. Crane pushed her to the side silently, and he too was slightly put off by what he saw across the room.
A half-dressed blonde girl was being smashed onto the gleaming stainless steel of one of the kitchen counters by none other than 50-year-old Mr. Merck, the Culinary Arts head chef and teacher. She was giggling and moaning like a porn star, and he was enjoying it immensely.
When Crane turned to look at August, her face was twisted into an expression of bewilderment and disgust, her mouth gaping at the sight. Crane, being a teacher, had of course come across situations similar to this, and the sight didn't seem to phase him in the slightest.
"Come along Miss Macgregor, we can.. Er…order takeout."
"They're… Eating each other."
Crane grabbed her arm and walked her out of the doorway and down the hall. August continued to be speechless. Finally, when they had gotten back outdoors, she spoke.
"Gross."
"My thoughts exactly."
"I feel like I need to take a chemical shower."
The Doctor put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, though his expression remained cool and impassive. His expression almost disturbed her, as though he didn't care, and never had cared about another human being.
"Do you need to talk about it? I am a psychiatrist, you know."
"Um, I don't think I'm … up to it right now."
"That's okay. You go home. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay. Good night"
August had made it more than halfway to her dorm when she realized that she had left her bag in The Doctor's office. She let out an exasperated sigh, and turned around, starting to jog back to the Medical and Science Wing.
Suddenly, she slammed into something soft.
It was Mr. Merck.