AN: Thanks to those who have enjoyed this, one more chapter and it'll be complete!
XXXXXX
Caitlin Snow had fallen in love exactly once in her life.
It had been nearly a decade earlier, and she'd married him, and then her husband had died in a tragic accident.
They'd both been so very young; she'd worked through Ronnie's death long ago, but she still preferred not to think about it. It had led to a profound effect on her life, too – she hadn't had a serious relationship (one where she could see a real future) in the years since Ronnie died. Her choice of career meant that she came across plenty of single men, and she'd tried dating several of them, even a fellow professor or two, but nothing ever lasted. Over the past few years, she'd started turning down opportunities more often until eventually that was her only response.
There had simply been no one she cared about to even a tenth of the degree she had Ronnie, despite giving it a few actual chances. She didn't like to think that she'd given up, but more that…she was sick of trying to find love again. In the end, it never felt worth it to put energy into something she knew wouldn't last, so it had become second-nature to stop trying.
But lately she's found herself thinking…
What if she did want to try again? What if she had feelings for someone before even going on a single date?
She won't lie to herself – she knows she's been thinking about it because of one person, and one person only: Harrison Wells. Their friendship has steadily been getting stronger and she's finding that over the past couple months, Medical Ethics has become her favorite class. She loves teaching all her courses, most days, but this one makes her happier than the others. Because it's where she gets to see him.
Not that she lets that interfere with her role as a professor; her number one priority while teaching is her students and that will never change, but she recognizes that he's slowly becoming the highlight of her weeks. The real question is: what is she going to do about it…if anything?
She tries to shake herself out of her thoughts. She's not a teenager anymore, back in the days when she would obsess over her most recent crush and wonder if he liked her back. (So why does it sometimes feel like she's still that girl?)
She really has to pull herself together or one of these days she's going to slip and do something inappropriate, like stare at him while daydreaming…which she's doing right now.
Thankfully, he's not looking at her and she snaps her eyes away, quickly checking to make sure no one else has noticed, either. The students are partnered up for today's discussion, and she breathes out in relief that no one has caught her.
They're about three-quarters of the way through the fall semester and winter is rapidly approaching. It's the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break, and she's honored that by telling her students they have no homework or assignments due for the next week. A check of the clock tells her it's time to let them go and she dismisses everyone, wishing them a safe vacation.
Harry stops next to her desk as she goes through her regular ritual of packing up everything after class. Their almost-habit from the previous month has become an actual routine, much to her delight. They'll talk while she gathers her things and then he'll walk her out of the building. (And if they both arrive early to class, before it starts, they spend that time together, too.) Their discussions have slowly moved beyond the class itself; it's easy to talk to him about anything and everything – he's even helped her work through a few issues with her current research projects.
As the semester's gone on, Caitlin has noticed the increasingly curious looks from other students and knows that they wonder about the exact nature of her relationship with Harry – and the truth is, Caitlin herself has that same question. She definitely feels a spark between them that goes beyond the bounds of friendship, but has he felt it, too? And if so, would he have any interest in pursuing it?
"It's quite generous of you to skip giving out work over the break," Harry tells her.
"It's more about selfishness," she admits, corner of her mouth lifting. "It saves me from the horror of returning to hundreds of assignments to correct during the mad rush of the last few weeks before the winter holidays, which is when I'm most needed, especially for my students who are struggling. Besides, they've earned the break to go home and be with their families, not spend their time off worrying about completing assignments for me. They'll have enough of that preparing for finals." She frowns a little. "And from the other professors who assign things over Thanksgiving, anyways."
"You really care about your students," he murmurs, and it's not surprise in his voice, but it's…something she can't label.
She finishes putting everything away and smiles at him. "Were you under the impression that I didn't?"
That time, surprise does flash across his face. "No! I'm sorry if it came across that way. That's not even remotely what I meant. I only meant that, in general, it's a wonderful thing to see. Your dedication to these kids…it shows."
"Not all of my students are kids," she says, archly.
"I'm young at heart," he tries to tell her, laughing even as he says it.
"Please! If anything, you act like twice your actual age. How many times this month alone have you lamented that things were better back in the 'good old days'?"
He seems about to argue her point before realizing he can't, so he tries arguing a different point instead. "Things were better back in the good old days."
"How many kids have you told to get off your lawn in the past month?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," he says, as if he's put out.
"That tells me it's at least a dozen," she hums, and he's smiling so she knows he's not really annoyed at her jokes.
She takes a step toward the door, expecting Harry to come along, but he sets a hand on her arm to stop her. "Caitlin, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. If you have a moment."
"I have some time," she replies, even as she feels her heart rate quicken. She wonders if he's going to bring up what she's been thinking about for weeks. For months. If he's going to tell her he cares about her and ask if she feels the same for him. Or maybe skip that part altogether and simply ask her out. Right then, she can't think of anything she wants more.
"Professor Snow?" a young man interrupts them. Caitlin recognizes him as Ian, a student she's had in several classes before, but not this current semester. He glances at Harry and then says, "Sorry, I can come back another time."
"No, it's fine, I was actually on my way out," Harry informs the younger man, and it's only when he removes his hand from Caitlin's arm that she realizes he'd never let go of her. He sends her a look of apologetic regret and Caitlin nods a little in acceptance, even as she struggles to set aside her disappointment that Ian's presence has spurred him to leave.
As Harry heads for the door, Caitlin turns to face her former student. "How can I help you?"
He's suddenly nervous, looking more at his feet than at her. Ian's always been a self-assured, outgoing student, which means she has a sinking feeling about where this might be going. And she can't think of anything she wants less. Don't ask me, she silently pleads. Don't ask me, don't ask –
"I've had such a fantastic time in your classes these past two years," Ian finally manages to say, before gathering his courage and meeting her eyes. "I was wondering if you would consider…going for coffee sometime."
She's vaguely aware that Harry has stopped just inside the doorway, and he's close enough that she knows he must have overheard Ian. (Whether that's why he chooses not to leave, or if he's merely changed his mind and decided to wait for her after all, she has no idea.)
Either way, he's going to witness firsthand how she's mastered turning down students over the years while minimizing embarrassment for everyone involved.
"As flattered as I am," she tells Ian, carefully, "I'm seeing someone right now. And besides that, you know the university frowns upon professors dating students."
"Yeah, I know," he admits, sheepishly. He's clearly letdown, but also seems relieved that he's gotten the question over with. "I thought you were worth taking the chance, though."
"Thank you, Ian," she tells him warmly. "There are plenty of wonderful women around this campus who I'm sure would love to be asked out by someone like you."
"Thanks," he says, turning a little red. "I'm sorry that I –"
"No apology necessary," she assures him. "There's no harm done."
"I don't know who around here might compare to you," he sighs, a bit over the top, and she guesses that he's quickly returned to his over-confident manner to sweep past her rejection. "I'll take your suggestion, though." He tilts his head before asking, slyly, "Do you know if Professor West is single, by any chance?"
She mock-scowls at him. "Ian, when I said there are women who'd love to be asked out by you, I meant your fellow peers, not your other professors."
"Hey, you miss all the shots you don't take, right?" he throws back, grinning at her as he leaves.
Caitlin shakes her head, mostly glad she's gotten through yet another potentially awkward encounter. She knows a handful of professors who've dated students in the past (despite the 'strong recommendations' against it), and while some relationships have worked out, others have ended disastrously. (The vast majority of those disasters, however, have been because of the age differences, and not because the couples originally met as teacher and student.)
Caitlin had never had any desire to wade into that minefield with a young student, especially because while she gets older every year, the vast majority of her students stay between the ages of 18 and 22. There have been older students, sure, but she's also never wanted to cross that line with any of them, either.
Well, she thinks as Harry walks back over to her, not until now.
(Harrison Wells is the exception to a lot of things, not least of all her sudden desire to break every personal rule she's ever set for herself as a professor.)
"Well done," he says, nodding in the direction that Ian had left.
"I try," she says wryly. "I basically have the script memorized by now – politely turning them down by saying I'm in a relationship to lessen the sting, and then gently steering them towards their peers if they're looking for romantic companionship."
He abruptly laughs. "Romantic companionship? Does anyone else under 60 use that term anymore?"
"Guess you wouldn't be able to tell me," she says smartly, and it takes him a few seconds to work out that teasing insult.
"Hilarious, Snow. You know I'm not over 60." He eyes her, frowning a little. "I hope."
"If you say so…" she tells him, infusing her words with playful suspicion.
"How often does this happen that you have a standard response, Mrs. Robinson?"
She sends him an unamused look despite knowing he can tell she's exceedingly amused. "A few times a year, usually," she sighs, annoyed all over again. "I blame our culture; almost every teen TV show or situational comedy of the past forty years has included some attractive 'older' teacher – and by older, I mean early thirties – and the teenager who can't resist her. Then they have a passionate affair that usually marks a turning point in his life – from boy to man. But it's much rarer to see the reverse, a much older man in a relationship with his teenage, female student, because that comes across as predatory in a way a teenage boy and an older woman does not."
Harry's blinking at her and she suddenly realizes she's gone on a mini-rant. "Have you written a paper on this, or…?"
"I've given it a lot of thought," she explains, laughing a little. "Sorry that I got carried away. I actually don't care what people like, or choose to watch, but the double standard annoys me. That and how I'm convinced it's a big part of the reason why so many of my students have asked me out over the years."
"I'm pretty sure they'd be asking you out even if our culture didn't glorify it."
"Is that…" She slowly smiles at him. "Are you complimenting me?"
"I am capable of giving compliments," he says, haughtily. "Despite what some –" his pointed look means he's talking about her, "– may think."
"Thank you, Harry," she replies, sentiment genuine. "You know, I'm almost looking forward to the days when I'm in my forties and the propositions from students drop off."
"Now I think you're fishing," he accuses. "You know damn well they'd still be hitting on you when you're in your forties."
"Two compliments in as many minutes?" she needles, though she's pretty certain her smile couldn't get any wider. "Are you sure you're the Harrison Wells who's been in my class this whole semester?"
"You've got me," he sounds exasperated, but she hears the affection inherent in his words. "I'm actually a different version of him from another dimension."
"That's the best you can come up with?" she scoffs. "Don't ever quit your day job to become a writer."
"Fine, since you're apparently a literary scholar now, too, what would be your explanation if I were someone else?"
She ponders that for a few moments. "That you have an evil twin who's actually the difficult and sardonic one I've known this entire time."
"I'm difficult?" he gasps, pressing a hand to his heart. Before she can respond to his theatrically dramatic question, he continues with, "Twins, really? The plot of a daytime soap opera?" He's shaking his head in disappointment. "That's a better story than alternate dimensions? In what reality?"
"In the reality where it's fun to argue with you just to argue with you," she admits, giving in.
"I don't have to stay here and take this harassment," he warns her, making no move toward the exit.
She grins at him. "And yet…here you are."
"Maybe I'm hoping to hear another lecture about the portrayals of teacher and student relationships in pop culture," he suggests, light enough that she knows he isn't serious. "And I must say, while I do understand your points about potential impropriety, this is hardly high school. The vast majority of your students are over 18."
"Are you saying I should date my students?" she chides, even as she can't help wondering if he's steering the conversation towards the topic of them.
"Of course not," he says, gravely. "Not all of them."
"Just some of them?" she laughs. "The university actively discourages it, though I don't think there are written rules against it."
"You don't think?" he repeats. "Do you mean to tell me you haven't read your employee handbook cover to cover?"
"Don't tell anyone," she says, conspiratorially, even as she feels her anticipation rising again. She makes an impulsive decision to challenge him: "Besides, Harry, what would that look like? If I dated a student?"
"I don't know," he says, as his smile fades. "What would that look like?"
She opens her mouth to try and say something to regain their levity, but it vanishes from her mind the second she meets his eyes. She can't think of a single thing to say. She's lost – too lost. She'd been thinking she liked him enough that she'd be okay with trying to date again. Something casual. Perhaps with the hope that it might turn into more, down the road.
But in that moment, she realizes it's already something more…at least for her. She has a sudden flash that if they start this, she's never going to want to end it.
It's dangerous, because she has no idea if he feels the same. It'd mean taking risks, putting herself out there again…and that's something she hasn't had to deal with in years. The biggest upside of avoiding serious relationships after Ronnie was that she never had to deal with the potential of getting hurt. She's suddenly staring at those risks head-on, though, and despite all of it, everything that could go wrong…she wants to try, anyways.
She wants to try with him.
"Caitlin –" he begins, as a few students enter the room, startling her out of her thoughts. She glances at the clock, surprised to see how much time has passed since her ethics class ended. Her next class is three buildings over and there's no way she's going to make it on time.
"I have to go." She hastily grabs her things, smiling ruefully. "I'd ask you to walk with me but I'm actually going to be nearly running. I guess I wasn't paying attention – and whose fault is that?"
"Are you blaming me for the fact that you're going to be late to your next class?"
"That depends…does it sound at all believable?"
He tips his chin toward the exit, and she can see in his eyes that he's laughing at her. "Go on."
She's almost out of the room before realizing she didn't even apologize to him, and turns in the doorway to look back (nearly getting herself run over by a few students as a result). "Sorry that we didn't have time to talk about…?" She has an idle hope that he'll take the opening to ask her out, but to her disappointment, he merely waves at her.
"We can discuss it another time."
"Okay, after the break then." She briefly considers being the one to ask him, but…no, she'd rather wait. She doesn't want it to be in a rushed ten seconds, and she also thinks talking to him near the end of the semester will be better. Then, if they turn out to be on completely different wavelengths, they can simply part as friends and spare any awkwardness of having more classes together left in the semester. "Have a wonderful vacation, Harry."
"You as well, Caitlin Snow."
She smiles to herself at how he's still never chosen a preferred name for her, and then she's off for her next class, hoping she arrives before the restless students decide she's canceled it.
XXXXXX
Caitlin sighs as she finishes grading another paper on her tablet and then rubs the back of her neck as she leans back in her desk chair, trying to work out the stiffness. She's probably been working too long; her office hours are long over, but she's reluctant to go home. She finds that it's easier to power through things while at the university because when she's home, it's too tempting to set it aside for a 'later time' that often never comes.
She loves being a professor, but sometimes she hates reading through the students' essays. Especially when they're as poorly written as many of these ones are. Most of her students are bright, but that doesn't necessarily correlate with great writing skills. In the paper she'd just read, more than half the sentences were fragments and she'd had to struggle to try and understand what the student was trying to say.
A chime from the tablet indicates a new email and she inwardly groans when she sees it's a reminder about a university-wide staff meeting the following week. The last thing she wants is to sit there for hours while administration drones on about the usual issues – planned campus expansions, budgetary concerns, staff change-overs, and various other issues that never fail to bore her.
She wants to teach. She couldn't care less about the politics and business side of how the university works, and as such, she only attends such meetings when it's literally required of her.
Light knocking on her open door has her eagerly calling for the person to come in as she sets the tablet aside. When she glances up, her heart feels like it flips over – Harry's standing there, as if unsure about entering even though she's already extended he invitation.
"Hi!" she greets, much more enthusiastically than she meant to. "It's past my office hours, but I suppose I can make an exception. For you."
"I'm honored," he says, coming further into the room – it's pretty good-sized for a faculty office – and he sits in one of the chairs facing her desk, the same place where he always sits when he stops by. It's not uncommon for him to visit during her office hours, but he's never shown up this late at night before, and she wonders why he'd still be at the university.
They've had several classes since coming back from Thanksgiving break, but he's never brought up the topic he'd wanted to discuss with her before they were interrupted that day. She hasn't asked him about it, either, deciding she'd wait for him to mention it again.
(Truthfully, she's worried that she might have been exaggerating to herself what was between them; that it might only be friendship, and because she'd been hoping he wanted more, she'd seen things that weren't there.)
She can't deny, though, that a significant part of her is hoping this might be him deciding to bring it up again. "How can I help you?"
"Why are you here so late?" he asks, instead of answering her. "Your office hours ended three hours ago and it's past 8."
"It's easier for me to grade papers here than at home," she answers, then decides it's the perfect chance to flip the question around. Fair is fair. "Why are you here so late?"
"Lots of stuff to take care of," he informs her, and when she watches him expectantly, he adds, "for my project."
"Right," she nods. "This mysterious project you've mentioned several times this semester yet will never elaborate on…" He's never said that he was enrolled in any other classes at the college, but she knows he's dropped in on more than a few of them, across all different subjects – he's mentioned as much over the past few months, and whenever she's questioned it, he refers to his project and then changes the subject.
"There's a reason I couldn't talk about it," he says. "Or…there was."
"Does that mean the reason's gone?"
"Not really," he says. "It's more accurate to say that I can talk about it now when I couldn't before."
She leans forward, wondering what his 'project' could possibly be. She's come up with several theories the past couple months. One is that he's writing a book and had taken her class for research purposes. (Maybe he'd even want her contributions, if it were non-fiction.) Another is that he's decided to go into teaching himself and had taken her class to get a feel for what being a professor entailed. A third is that he's from a rival university and has been studying their biology program, maybe even in an attempt to entice her away from her current job (and she admits the last is more a dream than anything else – how amazing would it be if she were known well enough in her field that other schools tried to steal her?).
The only problem with most of her scenarios is that none of them seem worth hiding the truth of what he's doing, except maybe the last one, but that's a long-shot – Harrison Wells isn't the type to try and lure her to a new job with subterfuge. He'd be much more likely to simply present his offer and list the reasons why she should take it.
Another chime from her tablet has her quickly checking and then sighing in frustration.
"Everything okay?" he asks.
"It's a duplicate of an email I got five minutes ago, only it was sent by someone else. You'd think administration would coordinate these things better."
"What do you think of the administration here?" He's looking around the office, but she gets the distinct sense he's doing it so that it will seem like his question isn't as important as it actually is. He's asked her similar questions before about the university environment, how she liked it there, how the professors got along amongst themselves and with the students. What the atmosphere's like, in general.
This evening, though, his question sets her on edge. "The administration's fine," she says, keeping her answer concise. "No complaints."
"That might change," he tells her, sounding almost…dejected.
She narrows her eyes at the odd statement. "Why would you say that? Does it have anything to do with your project?" At this point, she thinks she wouldn't be surprised at anything he tells her.
"In a way, it does," he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands. His stare has turned more intense than she recalls ever seeing from him. "Around ten years ago, I got tired of running an engineering lab all day, every day. I was just…sick of it. And in all honesty, I felt it was a waste of my expertise. You can't interact with the public and your colleagues know pretty much everything that you know. We were doing the exact same things, day in and day out, and while every breakthrough was fantastic, over time, they couldn't make up for the monotony I otherwise felt."
"Research alone was never enough for me, either," she agrees, understanding what he's trying to say. "I needed more than that. I wanted to contribute to the world in some way, and I found that with teaching."
He's nodding along as she speaks. "Exactly, you need to find what's right for you. By the end of my first career, nothing excited me anymore, Caitlin. I wanted…well, I wasn't sure what, exactly, but to do more with my life than I had up until that point. So I quit and took some time to think. I decided to reconsider every possibility that I'd ever shut down in my life. I'd go where I wanted, do what I wanted, and not let anything stop me. Not until I found what I was looking for."
"I bet you climbed the highest mountains," she asserts, keeping her face carefully blank.
It takes him all of a half-second. "Snow –"
"And ran through the fields, as well," she interrupts. "Maybe even scaled a few city walls?"
"Before you quote the whole song to me," he says, eyes sparkling, "the answer is yes, Caitlin Snow. I found what I never knew I was looking for. In fact…I found much more than that."
"Are you a journalist?" she asks, before he can say anything else. She's been trying to put the pieces together and part of her wants to know how good her detective skills have been. "Is there some kind of scandal going on at the university? And you had to pretend to be a student to uncover it?" (When she'd looked him up online, she'd only found his education and an incomplete job history. He'd worked at several engineering labs, but the past ten years were more or less a black hole where he was concerned. She'd found no clues as to what he might do nowadays, and he'd only ever told her he was between jobs.)
"A journalist?" He's genuinely confused, which causes her to deflate a little. "Investigating a scandal while I'm undercover as a student? That's what you thought?"
"I thought it was an intriguing possibility," she says defensively, irked at being completely wrong.
"I'm not a journalist," he confirms. "And I can only imagine what else you've been considering."
Her eyes light up with another possibility and she asks, mostly tongue-in-cheek, "Are you an actor who's researching a role?"
"You seem to think my life is a lot more exciting than it actually is," he tells her, dryly. "I will say that you're on the right track. Sort of." His humor fades a little and he turns more apprehensive. "Should I tell you or do you want to keep guessing for a while?"
She mulls that over before deciding she's had enough suspense. She about to tell him to just come out with it, when of course (of course) someone knocks on her office door, walking into the room without waiting for an invitation. It's a student from one of Caitlin's biology classes, a freshman named Cora, and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying.
"Professor Snow, I know it's past office hours –" The young woman stops in her tracks when she sees Harry sitting across from Caitlin's desk. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize someone else was here." She sniffs and ineffectively wipes at her eyes. "I'll go."
"No, wait," Caitlin says, jumping to her feet. "Please. Stay."
"I'll go," Harry offers, glancing between the two women.
"No," Cora says, "that's not fair. I don't mean to kick you out." Before Harry can leave (which Caitlin can tell he still wants to do), Cora sits down in the chair next to him and the story spills out of her in a tangled rush of words. As it turns out, she's terrified of failing the biology final since she's been struggling in Caitlin's class, and is having the same problem in a calculus class she's taking. She's also living in one of the dorms and having a hard time adjusting to being away from home.
Caitlin has seen this kind of thing many times before – the girl is simply overwhelmed at going through so many changes at once and Caitlin's heart breaks for her, a little. It's easy to forget how young many of these students are, and how difficult it is for some of them to go from an environment in high school where everything is dictated to them, to one where they have so much free will. Caitlin also knows it's hard for them to reach out for help, both from feeling ashamed and from thinking they're they only ones going through it. (She suspects she'd hear from a lot more of them if they only knew how many of their friends and classmates felt the exact same way, but hid it equally as well.)
It takes a while to talk the girl through her issues, and to Caitlin's surprise, Harry significantly contributes to their discussion. The two of them reassure Cora that she's not alone, direct her to a variety of study groups for her classes, and recommend she talk to her parents about the possibility of transferring to another college or commuting the next year.
"Despite what you see in movies, living at college isn't for everyone," Caitlin tells her. "For many people, it isn't the best time of their lives." She comes around the desk to set her hand on Cora's shoulder. "Don't let anyone tell you how you should live or what you should feel. That's for you to decide."
Cora quickly stands and before Caitlin can move back, the girl is throwing her arms around her in a grateful hug. "Thank you," she says quietly. A few more tears have escaped her eyes, but now they're from relief and not misery. She turns to look over at Harry adding, "That thanks is directed at you, too."
"You're more than welcome," he says, as he jots something on a red post-it note that he's stolen from the rainbow block of them situated on Caitlin's desk.
"Before you go," Caitlin tells her, "let me give you one more thing, the information for –"
"I've got it, Snow," Harry says, giving the post-it to Cora. "The university has counselors who specialize in this kind of thing." The young woman glances warily from him to the note and back again. "They assist students who need help with any matter you could possibly think of. They're there if the only thing you want to do is talk. They're free of charge, and they want to help. You can call them or you can go down in person. Whatever's most comfortable for you."
Cora nods, swallowing heavily, and Caitlin gets the sense she's trying not to cry again.
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asks the girl, gently.
Cora assures her that she is and promises she'll look into the resources they've given her, including contacting a counselor the next day.
After she's gone, Caitlin falls into the chair next to Harry that Cora had been sitting in. "Not what you expected from your evening, is it?" she questions, feeling the tiredness seep in, sure he can probably hear it in her words, too.
"I wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way," he tells her, and she wonders how much truth is in his statement, exactly.
"You were pretty helpful," she says. "I'm impressed how much you knew about the resources we have for students." Not least of all, that he'd known the information for the health and counseling centers off the top of his head.
"My daughter struggled a lot during her first year of college," he explains. "I've been through it all before."
"Sorry to hear that," Caitlin murmurs. She already knows he has a daughter because he speaks of her often, and fondly. (Truth be told, the clear love she always hears when he talks about Jesse has only made Caitlin admire him more.) He'd been raising her alone since his wife died some ten years earlier, coincidentally around the same time Caitlin had lost her own husband. He'd told her that Jesse had recently graduated (from a different college), but he'd never talked about what she'd gone through.
She idly wonders if that has anything to do with what he'd been talking about before Cora arrived. Had he wanted a different career in order to give back some of what he'd received over the years, from so many others?
"I let her attend college a few years early," Harry says, without prompting, probably because he can see the question on her face. "She's brilliant, so I thought it'd be fine. However, I miscalculated and didn't realize she wasn't socially ready for the experience. She ended up taking a year off to adjust after a pretty awful freshman year. She hid it from me almost the whole time, so some of the things Cora was talking about… I can relate based on similar things Jesse told me about her experiences. We'd been to counseling on and off over the years, after the loss of her mother, and we both started again during her college years; it helped us both immensely. I'm sure it will help Cora, too."
Caitlin can tell, from how he's speaking, that his memories of that time still cause him pain. She wants to say something reassuring, but isn't sure what. She settles for, "You're a good father," because based on everything he's ever told her, she knows it's true.
(She also thinks that after his wife died, he'd probably never heard it from anyone except Jesse.)
The look on his face right then…she doesn't think she's ever seen it before. It takes him a moment to be able to speak. "Thank you, Snow."
"I call it like I see it," she says, trying to lighten the mood that's turned unexpectedly heavy.
"In that case, you'd have excelled at being a therapist as much as you do at teaching," he tells her. "The way you calmed her down with such ease... I was impressed."
"I had some help," she says, reaching a foot out to tap the leg of his chair. "I've also had a lot of practice at it over the years. Cora isn't the first student to come to me distraught and she won't be the last. It's part of the job and I don't mind it. In fact, I'm glad that she felt comfortable enough to come to me for help. I hope plenty of others feel that way, too. If so, it means I'm doing something right."
"You're doing a lot of things right," he tells her quietly. "Your students are lucky to have you." From the way he says it, she's pretty sure he's talking about himself there, too.
(And there goes her heart again.)
"I'm equally lucky to have them," she says, carefully. "Getting up every day, coming to a job I love, it's mostly because of them. All of them." She hopes he can read between the lines, to everything she isn't quite saying out loud. "I'm grateful every day that I was able to find what I believe to be my purpose in life. But what about you?" She's referring back to their earlier conversation. "In your search for…more. What did you find?"
He's watching her and she can tell he's about to speak again when his phone starts buzzing.
"She must have sensed we were talking about her," he says, holding up the display so she can see Jesse's the one calling. He answers and listens for maybe thirty seconds before saying he'll be there as soon as he can.
"Is everything alright?" Caitlin asks, getting to her feet along with him.
"Her car started acting up on the way home. She managed to drive to our usual shop so they can look at it in the morning when they open. I have to go pick her up." He stops for a moment. "I'm sorry we keep getting interrupted."
"It's not a big deal," she says, turning off her tablet and thinking she should get home soon, too. "We can talk later."
"I'm going away the next few days," he says, mentally calculating. "How about we meet up after your classes on Tuesday?"
She smiles in promise. "I'll pencil it in."
"Great," he replies. "Have a fantastic weekend, Snow."
She wishes the same to him as he leaves, thinking about how there's only one week of regular classes left before finals are upon them, and then a full month of winter break. She's going to sleep a lot and catch up on overdue reading and TV shows, and she really hopes she might see Harry sometime – or lots of times – in between all of that.
She has no idea how the term has gone by so quickly, but she definitely knows why it's become her favorite semester she's ever had.
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