A/N: Very special thanks to Lilololly, RedHairedJenna, TheTalkingCupcake, anonymousx, CeliaSingsSongs, Mirae Descriderium, Turtle Kid the Woolgatherer, XXBlackfireXX, EmilyEverlasting, Super Widget, Starsaroundmars, RandomCitizen and Lucky D for your reviews and support of this new project! :D Enjoy the update.

The Curious Misunderstanding

Chapter Two

/

I watched Nigel put drops in his eyes for what seemed like an agonizingly long time before he blinked rapidly, replaced his glasses, and sat back in his seat. "So, let's discuss the next step."

It'd been almost two weeks since the defense, and frankly I was surprised I hadn't heard that Nigel had hanged himself in his office in the days following. He was one of those real uptight professors, a real perfectionist, but I loved him and his teaching style and everything he taught me through the program, and in the drunken/hungover days after the failed defense lying around feeling hopelessly sorry for myself, I felt more burdened by the fact that I had disappointed him, that I had shamed him.

And he, bless him, didn't go into the whole let's talk about what the fuck happened at the defense like I had half expected he would. He gave me some time and then he called this meeting, after we'd both had a bit of time to get over the initial shock and the proceeding misery.

"What we're looking at next is a rewrite," he said, entwining his hands together, and then holding them up in a defensive pose after I gaped at him. "Not an entire rewrite, mind you. We'll make an outline of your arguments and decide what needs to be tweaked and what needs to be redone altogether."

I leaned forward in my seat, staring at his name plate on the desk in an effort to keep from being sick on the carpet. "How long until I have to resubmit?"

"Usually it's about six months," he said. "And then the committee will decide whether or not it is good enough to go to a second oral defense."

Six months...it seemed like a lot of time, plenty of time, in fact, but the idea of going back to that damned thesis to make revisions in an attempt to make it better was very disheartening. I was already exhausted.

"So, what I think you should do," he said. "Is go over your manuscript and make a very detailed abstract of each chapter. That will make it easier to spot problem themes and map out new ones."

I squeezed my eyes closed and withheld a groan. I shouldn't have been surprised, I knew there was going to be something that I'd have to do for the resubmit, and suddenly I was more than grateful that he wasn't suggesting a full rewrite of the thing. I didn't think I had it in me to an entire rewrite.

"Don't make that face at me, Nola," he said, half serious, half sympathetic. "Y'know in these cases, sometimes all you need is just a little tweak to make everything that much stronger."

I nodded. I knew he told the truth; if I was totally fucked, he would have told me. You could always count on Nigel for his staggering honesty. "All right," I said. "When would you like that by?"

Nigel shrugged. "Well, I say if you get it done by the end of the month, that'll be good, then I can have a chance to take a good look at it when I get back and we can go from there."

I frowned at him. Nigel was going on holiday to Knossos, though for some strange reason, I figured he would have cancelled it what with the news of my failure. "You're still going?"

He looked at me as if I were mad. "Of course I'm still going."

Part of me though that he was leaving to escape the shame of it all; he'd never had a student fail their graduate thesis before, or the oral defense of the thing. He didn't want to have to face his colleagues at the university and admit that his graduate student had failed. But after a shake of my head, I knew that he'd had the trip planned for a couple of months now, and I didn't blame him for not canceling. Holidays were too expensive.

Nigel regarded me very seriously, as though that last question had disturbed him, and he leaned forward on his elbows and looked me very gravely. "Nola, I know things aren't exactly merry around the maypole, but there are a few things you have to promise me you'll do."

I stared at him and shrugged, waiting for his conditions.

"First, you need to promise that you'll make an effort to get out of your flat," he said. "The isolation is dangerous, do not succumb. Take your manuscript and go for a coffee, sit in the BM, anywhere in London, really, but make sure you get out."

I nodded. This had been one of our agreements when I was still writing the stupid thing. Though I hid my face from him, unable to admit to him or even myself that the manuscript I'd printed was gone, thrown in the trash, along with the rest of my dignity the night following the defense.

"And," Nigel said. "You need to stay in contact with your friends, your Dad, everyone."

I smiled a little. There was little chance that Dad would let his three-times-a-week phone calls drop, no matter how busy things got. "Don't worry, I will."

"Good," he said, and then he stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have to run home before the plane leaves."

/

The Tube was on the last leg of the morning rush hour, thank goodness, though I was still annoyed that the only time Nigel could see me before he left was so bloody early in the morning. I still wasn't finished sleeping off the depressed feelings of the failed defense, and now new ones were taking over. Abstracts for each chapter in the manuscript by the end of the month...it was almost four weeks away, granted, he'd given me plenty of time. But I felt more annoyed than anything that I'd thrown out that stupid manuscript and I'd have to get it reprinted, all 82 pages of it, another twenty quid gone. Why I hadn't kept the stupid thing was amazing to me, though in my drunken stupor I was surprised I hadn't thrown myself off the Blackfriars into the Thames as well.

As I left the Tube station and set off into the morning for home, my stomach rumbled, and though I was tempted to stop and get a coffee and maybe a breakfast pasty or two, I shook it off, kept my head up, and made a beeline for my flat. I wanted a hot bath with a sweet cup of tea, and a fry-up, and then I wanted to fall back into bed for the rest of the damn day. If Dad called, he'd be satisfied knowing that Nigel and I had come to an arrangement on the next steps, no matter how uninspired those next steps seemed to be.

As I came around the corner of my street, at long last, I saw a black car parked on the curb directly in front of the door to my flat. I stared at it, frowning; at first glance from the distance I was at, I thought it was Dad's car, but as I came closer I realized I'd never seen it before, at least not that I could recall. It was very luxurious, probably quite expensive, and as I reached for my keys in my jacket pocket, I thought that maybe somebody on my street was getting married or going to a funeral, and that was their transportation - and then the driver's door opened.

"Nola Kross?"

I turned to look. "Yes?" And I caught the gaze of the driver, a man, and to my surprise, I recognized him. Yes, it was the tall, unfriendly giant who'd been so brusque the night I came across the unconscious man, the day I failed my defense. I was properly taken aback. "Oh. It's you."

He tipped his chin, his hands behind his back. "Sebastian."

So many things rushed at me in the moment I recognized him. I had a much better look at him; he was as tall as I remembered, startling so, and slight...and though his features were not altogether unpleasing to the eye, there was a severity in his countenance that was somewhat unnerving. He was dressed very sharply, very professional and business-like, clean-shaven and with his hair brushed back; it made all sorts of sense that this was his car, though looking at it, I wasn't sure it was the same car from that night.

I frowned. "Sebastian..." I looked at him and then up and down the street. Despite the fact it was nearly midmorning, there was hardly anyone out and about. It alluded to the surreality of the situation. "What, uh...what are you doing here?"

His expression was completely vanilla with the question, as though I'd asked the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, but, dipping back behind him to the driver's seat, he pulled out my manuscript and held it out for me to take. "Your name and address were in it."

I stared at it in his hand, not believing for a moment that it was my manuscript, but it was. It actually was. I couldn't believe the luck. I laughed a little and stepped forward to take it from him. "Thank you," I said, looking up at him, watching his lips, looking as though he wanted to smile, but didn't. "I uh..I really needed this back, thank you..." I hugged it, for no reason aside from the fact that having it saved me from going to the copy shop to have another one printed off. I stood there for a moment and he did the same, watching me, and it crossed my mind that I should have offered him a reward for returning it to me, though that seemed unnecessary, given the car and the clothes. He didn't look like he was hard up for cash. "Um, how's your friend?"

Something pulled at his features, like irritation, but then it was gone. It was fleeting; if I hadn't been watching, I would have missed it entirely. "He's doing well. In fact..." and he opened the back door to the car and stood there, looking at me expectantly. "I've come to issue an invitation."

I looked at the empty seat in the back of the sedan and felt the scowl knit slowly on my features. I looked up at him, suspiciously. "Invitation for what?"

He stuck one hand in his pocket, as though he anticipated my hesitation. "Breakfast."

I gaped at him. Seriously? "Breakfast?"

"Yes," he said, very no-nonsense, not blinking, not even once. "Though I've been instructed to come back for you at noon, if it's too early."

I stared at him. What the hell was he talking about? "Instructed? Instructed by whom? What is this?"

He took in a breath, and he tilted his head to the side just slightly; the blue of his eyes was a very sharp contrast against the dark colour of his suit. It seemed he knew he had some explaining to do first. "The unconscious man you came across those weeks ago?" he said, and I nodded. "That man is my employer, and he'd like to meet you."

I was taken aback, but at the same time my curiosity was piqued. "Why didn't he come himself?"

The answer to that was obvious and suddenly I felt like a fool for asking when I watched Sebastian take in a breath, probably getting annoyed. "Because he asked me to come fetch you. He's a very busy man, as you shall see."

I could see the man in my mind's eye, Sebastian employer, lying unconscious on the sidewalk amongst broken glass and blood. I could recall the darkness of his hair, his long eyelashes, the softness of his features...I was relieved to hear that he was doing all right, and admittedly very curious that he wanted to meet me. It seemed odd...but at the same time it didn't, it seemed courteous. And even as the never take rides from strangers mantra began sounding off in my head, as much as I stared at Sebastian, I sensed many things about him...but nothing entirely threatening. It seemed as though he was telling the truth.

"What if I refuse?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Something played at his expression then; it almost looked as though he wanted to smile, like he and I both knew I was playing hard to get, like we both knew I wasn't about to refuse. Not even close. "Well," he said, averting his gaze for a second. "I suppose he would understand..." and then his gaze returned to me, and there was hard seriousness in his eyes that was not to be ignored. "Though I know he would be disappointed."

There was something laced in his voice when he said it, something between playfulness and a warning. I stared at him and pursed my lips, curiously, and then gestured towards my flat. "What if I go upstairs and call the police? Tell them you're trying to abduct me."

An eyebrow rose with piqued interest, and though he was careful to keep a smile off his lips, I could tell he wanted to. "Are you going to?"

No, but he didn't have to know that...and I certainly wasn't expecting that response. I shifted on my feet, unsure what to do or say at that point. "Well you must admit, this is very strange."

A titter escaped him, as though he knew all too well that it was strange, but then he shook his head. "We are going to Manni's at the Dayler Rowney Suites, Ms. Kross. For breakfast."

I blinked at him in surprise, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. The Dayler Rowney Suites was a crazy posh hotel that I'd only seen a couple of times before, and I didn't even know it had a restaurant. That would have seemed doubly suspicious...if it wasn't for the car that Sebastian was driving, and the suit that he was wearing, and his overall demeanor...

"I can come back for you at noon," Sebastian said, his tone suddenly rather gentle. "If it's too early."

I shook my head. "No, no. Let me just..." I motioned towards the door to my flat. "I'll just throw on some trousers and I'll be right down."

Sebastian nodded as he closed the door. "All right," he said, and pulled a pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket as he leaned back against the car.

Once upstairs in my flat, I set down my returned manuscript by its place next to the computer on my desk, and I pulled on a pair of black trousers and brushed out my hair, suddenly very thankful that I had decided to shower before going to see Nigel; I looked at least somewhat presentable, or presentable enough to be seen at a place like the Dayler Rowney Suites. I looked out the window at Sebastian; he continued to lean against the car nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, looking up and down the street. I pursed my lips and picked up my mobile, calling a number I knew off by heart.

It rang twice and then - "Hello?" It was Mrs. Penslivy, my landlady.

"Hello Mrs. Penslivy, it's Nola from upstairs," I said. "I wonder if you could do me a favour?"

"Of course, dear. What is it?"

I smiled as I stepped away from the window. "I'm going out for breakfast with a friend, but I'm supposed to meet my Dad later and my mobile's about to die. If I'm not back by noon, would you mind phoning him and letting him know I'll meet him at Beardsley?"

Meeting at Beardsley was our code for trouble.

"Certainly, dear," said Mrs. Penslivy. "Who's your friend?"

I grinned. Never underestimate the nosiness of a landlady who's children have all grown up and gotten married. "His name is Sebastian, he's waiting outside. Have a look."

She did, I could hear her moving on the other end of the phone. "Oh," she said, and I knew she was looking out her living room window right at him. "He is quite dapper, so tall...and what a beautiful car."

"Isn't it?" I asked, and peered out the window to look down at Sebastian once more. He continued to smoke, looking up and down the street at random, completely unaware that we were having a conversation about him. "He's taking me to the Dayler Rowney Suites for breakfast."

"Well dear, you mustn't keep him waiting." Mrs. Penslivy said, with a touch of excitement in her voice. "Have a lovely breakfast."

I smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Penslivy. I'll see you soon."

I hung up with Mrs. Penslivy, smiling to myself. Dad would've been so proud.

Sebastian tossed his cigarette when I came out the door, struggling to get my jumper on, and he opened the back door for me and waited until I was comfortably in before he closed the door and took the driver's seat. He cast me a fleeting glance in the rearview mirror before putting on his seatbelt and starting up the car, pulling away from the curb. I looked out the window up at my flat, thinking about Mrs. Penslivy, probably giggling to herself over a cuppa about how I finally had a gentleman caller, or so it seemed. I sat back in the comfortable leather seat, staring out the window at the city passing by, awakening in the early morning sunlight.

I looked up and caught Sebastian looking at me once more in the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. I eased him a little smile and leaned forward a little. "This is odd, y'know that? Does your employer know that this is odd?"

He made a noise in his throat, something between a snort and a noise of indignation. "You'll see he prefers to do things...unconventionally."

That seemed to be all that he would offer in terms of conversation, and so I sat back in my seat and stared out the window at London passing by. We seemed to drive for a long time, and as I enjoyed the ride, I thought about Sebastian's employer, and suddenly couldn't deny the excitement I felt at that moment. I'd put up a bit of a fight, sure, but I was secretly delighted that he'd taken the time to find me and send Sebastian to ask me to join him for breakfast. Granted, if an invitation showed in the post, I'd have liked that too, but sending Sebastian was definitely more effective.

What was he like? He was a gentleman, that was for sure...or else he wouldn't have bothered to set all this up. He was probably rich, given the way he looked when I found him unconscious, and based on the fact he employed someone as put-together as Sebastian. The more we drove the more I started to fidget, and I fought to keep the smile off my face, worried that Sebastian would catch it in the rearview mirror.

After driving long enough to cross the city, we pulled up to the Dayler Rowney Suites and came to a stop in front of the waiting valets. One of them opened the door for me, giving me a smile and a nod which I struggled to return, and Sebastian handed the guy the keys to the car and held out his arm for me to follow. "This way."

Sebastian walked ahead in strong, confident strides, and I struggled to keep up with him as a I followed him through the hotel's very decadent lobby, with its massive koi pond and greenery and polished cherrywood desks and furnishings. I felt totally underdressed in my trousers and Lululemon jumper as the hotel workers gave me confused glances while I followed Sebastian, who, with his clothes and his disposition, easily looked like he could have owned the place, and carried himself as if he did, too.

I followed him through the lobby towards the back, where the restaurant was, and my heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation as Sebastian held open the glass door for me. The host offered me a smile as I came inside, as though waiting to escort me to a table, but as soon as he saw Sebastian, who gently touched my elbow and gestured me ahead, the host merely nodded with respect, his smile widening, and cast neither of us another glance.

Manni's was an incredible restaurant, with the far wall all pane glass letting in the early morning sunlight with a gorgeous view of the gardens. The place was almost completely empty, save for a few breakfasters scattered amongst the four corners of the room. Sebastian walked ahead of me and I followed, looking around, my heart continuing to pound with excitement.

And then I saw him.

He was sitting at a table next to the glass by himself, with his back to us. I walked behind Sebastian slowly, trying to take in as much about him as I could from where I was at; his hair was dark as I remembered and finely combed back, and he was reading a newspaper while he waited. Sebastian stepped forward, presumably to announce that we'd arrived, though he didn't even say a word. Didn't have to, apparently. I felt my heart slam against my chest and then leap up into my throat as he set down his paper and stood from his seat.

I stared at him as he turned towards me and smiled. I was frozen, completely rooted to the spot, as he stepped forward, with an incredible smile on his flush pink lips, to take my hand in both of his. "Nola," he breathed my name, with the dreamy, deep drawl of a Dubliner's accent, and I felt the breath leave my body altogether. "So glad to have a proper introduction. Jim Moriarty."

/