D.C, September 2004
Alex likes to take late walks around the neighbourhood, a leftover habit from the years when she and James first moved in together and James's Golden retriever Meryl was still alive. While it was James's dog, it was always Alex who took Merry for the late walkies. Sometimes James came along, but for most part, it was just Alex and Merry. She had considered it a perfect opportunity to clear her head before bedtime, and she had continued long after Merry had moved on to dog heaven. She quit during the Amerithrax and the aftermath, though, she didn't want to be approached by anyone, be it the press or just curious neighbours.
But now, since Jennifer Jareau came into her life, Alex once again enjoys these evening walks. It gives her some time to herself to daydream about the young blonde, her smile, the light, flowery perfume she wears… Alex is fully aware that she has a crush on her student, and as much as it embarrasses her, the humoristic part of it isn't lost on her. Usually students do the crushing. In her first year of teaching she had a student - but that was a boy - sending her love poems so well-written they could have been classics. She had encouraged his writing, but not his affections, and he is a published poet now. Married as well, thank God, but he had dedicated his first poetry collection to her. It was a sweet gesture, not necessary, but sweet.
Students having a crush on their teacher, that she can handle. But when it's reversed, when the teacher has a crush on her student? How do you handle that? Not at all, of course, it doesn't matter that Jennifer is legal, a teacher does not violate the boundaries. They are supposed to know better. And she does, she knows better than to act on it, but if this innocent crush on the angelic Pennsylvanian girl gives Alex some of her will to live back, it can't be all bad, can it?
She's roused from her deep thoughts and realises that she's gone way further than she planned to. She lives in a quiet upper middle class neighbourhood, but she's way beyond that now; in fact, she's almost halfway to campus. And the rowdy Friday night parties are in full swing, which makes her smile a little. She was never the party animal herself, but she conveniently forgets that as she recalls her own "rowdy party years".
Her wrist watch - she refuses to be one of those who checks the time on their cell phones, not Alex Blake, never in life - tells her it's almost eleven o'clock. If she heads back now she has time for one glass of wine, or even a scotch, before it's time to go to bed. And she thinks she won't bother with the Ambien tonight.
But just as she's about to turn around, she can hear something that spells trouble.
"Hey girl, you pretty, come with us, we know another party not far away…"
Alex turns and walks in the direction of the voice, to find a bunch of young testosterone-high guys circling one very drunk girl who tries to walk by them and not pay them any attention, but they're all around her.
"Hey, kids, knock it off and go home," Alex calls out and walks a bit faster.
"Yeah?" one of them says as he strolls up to her. He looks like a perfectly nice college guy, the kind you'd say 'he could never do anything like that' about. "And who's gonna make us? You, lady?"
Alex sighs theatrically, the way she does when showing off in the classroom (teaching is a lot like acting, and not only does she like it, she also knows she's good at it), as she reaches for her badge.
"Can you read, kid?" she says in a low, very amiable voice as she holds up the badge in front of him. "'cause if you can't, I'll save you the effort. It says FBI."
"Shit," he hisses and calls over his shoulder to his friends; "Come on! Bitch ain't worth it anyway!"
Alex waits until she's sure they've left before walking up to the girl, who's leaning on a streetlight for support.
"You okay? Where do you live?"
The girl turns around and Alex registers two things at once; it's Jennifer Jareau, and she's going to throw up. Alex barely has time to jump out of the splatter zone - some of the girl's alcohol-soaked stomach content stains the leg of her jeans, but she's not easily repulsed. She can't be, not in her line of profession. Either line of profession, actually.
Jennifer holds onto the streetlight and looks as if she's trying to figure out where the hell she is and how she got there.
"Feeling better now?" Alex asks softly and reaches into her pocket and finds a Kleenex, crumpled but fresh, that she offers her student.
"Doctor Blake?" Jennifer says and immediately begins to blush so fiercely Alex fears she might have an aneurysm on the spot. "Oh my God. Don't look at me."
"It's a bit too late for modesty now, Miss Jareau," Alex says in a dry teacher's voice. Getting into character will help her sort this out, she decides. "Wipe your mouth and then I'll get you back home. Do you live on campus?"
"No," JJ says, hiccups and looks down at what must have been a clean (well, depending on how you used the word) top when she went out, that's now stained with beverages, ketchup and vomit. She makes a feeble attempt at wiping it off, but she wouldn't know where to start. She's obviously had a wild evening.
"So where do you live?" Alex urges her on. It's September and a warm night, but the girl isn't wearing a jacket and she's absolutely wasted. She needs to get inside.
"Two blocks that way," she eventually says and points in opposite direction. Alex breathes a sigh of relief; at least it's not far.
"Do you have a roommate?" Alex asks as she puts one arm around the blonde's shoulders to keep her walking somewhat straight. It's the first time they touch, but it does nothing for Alex; unlike those guys she sent running, she doesn't have it in her to take advantage of anyone in a weak position. Perhaps because she knows what it's like to be helpless and at the mercy of whatever comes at her. If anything, she's overwhelmed by a wish to protect and defend this young woman any way she can.
"Yeah."
"And is she home? I don't want to drop you off if there is no one around to keep an eye on you," Alex says and shakes JJ gently. "Hello, Miss Jareau, recite to me the different stages of a language."
It sounds ridiculous, but it's the only thing she can think about to make the younger woman focus.
"Pidgin," JJ says, hiccups and tries to get herself together. "Yeah, she's at home. Oh God, I'm so embarrassed. I'm so drunk. God, I'm sorry."
"I can keep a secret," Alex assures her. "Pidgin is correct. Next?"
Somehow they make it all the way to the apartment that JJ shares with her roommate, but in spite of the blonde's reassurances that she'll be okay on her own, Alex insists on seeing her to the door.
A chubby redhead is just about to open the door when JJ stumbles inside. The redhead catches her and Alex feels a pang of jealousy at the sight, but pushes it aside.
"Oh thank God, I was just about to go and look for you. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," JJ replies. "I am, thanks to her," she says and gives Alex a shy but grateful smile. "Thank you, Doctor Blake. And I'm sorry," she adds before ducking back into the apartment, the lingering intoxication no longer enough to filter the horrible embarrassment she feels.
"I'm her linguistics professor," Alex clarifies. "She had a bit of a problem fending off some guys, and I happened to stumble upon them, so…" she shrugs. "I followed her home."
"So you're the famous Doctor Blake," the redhead says, grinning broadly, and for a moment Alex thinks she refers to the fame she got during Amerithrax, but University students usually aren't too interested in what happens on the news. Nevertheless, she begins to feel a bit embarrassed herself. She holds out her hand, because it seems necessary, and the younger girl shakes it briefly.
"Alex Blake."
"Agatha Christie," the girl replies. Alex's eyes widen.
"Seriously?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
They can hear JJ emptying whatever is left in her stomach into the toilet, and Agatha rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
"Someone's gonna have a headache tomorrow," she says. "Thanks for helping her get home safe. I hope it won't give you a bad impression about her; she's never done that before. And I know she thinks very highly of you, she talks about you all the time."
"Tell her we're fine," Alex says. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. Now I'd better get back home. Do me a favour, check on her and make sure she stays hydrated, okay?"
"Will do," Agatha says and as Alex begins to descend the stairs she realises that she hasn't felt this good, this strong, in almost a year.
She talks about me? All the time?
Once back on the street Alex has to resist an urge to hug herself and make a little happy dance, but she forces her sophisticated persona forward and sweeps it around her like an invisible coat.
Nobody bothers her as she walks home.
Alex is in the process of making lunch the next day when the door bell rings.
"Just a minute!" she calls out, wipes her hands on the kitchen towel and walks towards the door. Once more she marvels over how much better she feels; she is eating again, for one thing. Alex truly appreciates food and drink, views it as art (yes, even the greasy fast-food restaurant menus are art in her eyes, though admittedly poor and unenthusiastic art), and enjoys it immensely, but lately she hasn't been very interested. Not in cooking, which is unusual in itself, and not in eating, which is highly uncharacteristic for her. James wouldn't believe it if he knew, but thankfully, the only contact they have is over a wavering Internet connection and his mind is occupied which more important things than whether or not his wife eats balanced meals.
Alex opens the door for a huge bouquet of white roses, and, behind them, the sheepish face of a certain Jennifer Jareau.
"Hi," the young blonde says awkwardly. "Please don't think I'm a creep and a stalker or anything for showing up at your home like this, but I, um…"
She falls silent, and the dark-haired teacher and her blonde student look at each other across a sea of white flowers for what feels like an eternity. There's a light drizzle outside, not flat out rain, but the very air seems saturated with it.
"Come inside," Alex eventually offers and opens the door fully to let her student inside, something she never would do had it been any other student.
"I just wanted to apologise again for everything last night, and thank you for helping me. It was… well, thank you. These are for you."
Alex can't remember the last time somebody got her flowers unless it was for her birthday, and she's very moved by the gesture. Last night she got a chance to feel like a knight in shining armour, and now she feels like a princess.
"Aww, you really didn't need to," Alex says as she accepts the flowers. White roses means innocence. Interesting choice. She wonders if it's deliberate.
"Yes, I did."
Alex has to look away from the intensity in those big blue eyes. She's afraid she's reading much more into them than there is.
"So how are you feeling today, huh?" she asks, almost smugly.
"Like somebody folded me over and stomped on me," JJ replies and it strikes Alex as funny enough to laugh at. It feels wonderful. She hasn't laughed in weeks.
"Glad you found that amusing," JJ says, but she smiles.
"Well, it is self-inflicted, so you won't get any pity from me," Alex replies, but she too is smiling. "I'm just glad you made it home in one piece."
"So am I. Thanks again. Well, I should go, Agatha is waiting for me outside in the car."
Alex feels weirdly disappointed at learning this information, but she keeps a straight face.
"Is her name really Agatha Christie?" she asks, and JJ grins.
"Yeah. Her parents had a thing for British murder mysteries."
"Really? No way!" Alex says in a voice that's dripping with sarcasm, and it's JJ's turn to laugh. Alex loves that laughter.
"Again, I'm really sorry I caused you trouble last night, Doctor Blake."
"Alex."
"Excuse me?"
"Call me Alex. A student brave enough to throw up on me should be brave enough to call me by my first name."
"I didn't… please tell me I didn't…" JJ is almost as pale as the flowers, then the fierce red colour creeps into her skin like a wave of lava. "Oh God. You know what, I'll pay for the dry-cleaning."
Out of whatever extra you make from waitress jobs and the likes, just to get by? I don't think so.
"Don't worry about it, it's just an old pair of jeans and I threw them in the laundry when I got home. We're good, Jennifer, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I love the roses, by the way. It was really sweet of you."
JJ smiles nervously and walks towards the door, fidgeting as if there is something else she wants to say or do.
"Yeah, I'm really, really sorry."
"You've said that already, several times. It's okay," Alex says.
"I have one more thing to apologise for," JJ says, looking down at her hands.
"Oh? What's that?"
"This," she says before closing the distance between them and pressing a soft, sweet kiss right onto Alex's lips. Alex feels like she's being struck by lightning; she cannot move. JJ backs away and sneaks out the door before Alex finds her bearings. She stands like that for a long, long time, staring at the closed door, until the smoke detector goes off to inform her that her lunch is ruined.
A/N
I hope this way of switching between current time and their past is making sense, or, well, at least that it doesn't get too confusing to read. :)
