Library... I should stop in and say hello to Guinevere.

Arthur's last class was cancelled, so his day was done a little earlier than usual. He turns as he passes the library, heading inside, a little smile of anticipation tugging at his lips.

He knows where she usually is, so he heads to the very back, where the offices are located. She's often hanging about there, sorting the books that need re-shelving.

The library is quiet, so he can only use his eyes, wishing he could listen for her laughter, her voice. He emerges from the end of an aisle and sees her through a window. She's inside an office, talking with someone.

There are blinds on the window, but they are open, so Arthur can see. However, the door is closed. He moves closer, deciding he'll wait outside until she emerges. There are a few tables, so he can sit and amuse himself with a book or his iPad while he waits.

Who is she talking to? He looks at the placard beside the door and sees the name Dr. Lancelot du Lac. Arthur recognizes the name. He's the new Chair of the Literature Department, replacing Dr. Nigel Gaius, who retired last term.

Top notch bloke, Dr. Gaius, I remember him from... hang on... Arthur's train of thought is derailed as she sees Guinevere laugh at something this Dr. du Lac person has said. Then, he notices the professor.

He's young. Quite young. Handsome. Like menswear-advert handsome. And he's smiling indulgently down at my Guinevere. And touching. Her. Shoulder.

And she's smiling back at him.

They seem rather... cozy.

What the fuck is this?

Arthur's fist clenches involuntarily. He feels slightly ill, like he may lose his lunch. He sees red – no, green – no, red.

Then, he sees Dr. Menswear walk around and stop right beside Guinevere, and they both lean over the desk, looking at something.

Surely, he's standing much too close to her.

Gwen points at something on the desk, and the interloper looks closer, then nods up at her, smiling again.

Arthur picks up his satchel and storms from the library, almost mowing down a young lady who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Sorry," he grunts, not breaking stride.

xXx

Arthur looks at his phone, wondering for the fourth time if he could get away with calling Merlin. It's nearly 6:30 here, which means it's... he pauses, counting on his fingers, almost 3:30 a.m. in Tokyo.

He knows Merlin would answer and talk to him despite the hour. But, he also knows Guinevere is due to arrive with dinner any minute now.

Arthur thought about calling Crane, but after what happened with Abbie (Arthur's not entirely clear on all the details yet; all he knows is she left), he's got his own problems about which to worry, so he leaves Crane alone.

He tosses his phone on the table, replaying in his head the scene from the library.

Maybe it was innocent. Maybe I'm overreacting.

But, I know flirting when I see it.

There's a knock at his door and he goes to let Guinevere in.

"Hi," she says cheerfully, leaning up to kiss him. He kisses her perfunctorily, not lingering and not pulling her into his arms.

"Hey," he says, closing the door behind her.

"I brought curry," she says. Her new favorite.

"Okay," Arthur answers, heading to the kitchen. "Something to drink?"

"Water is fine," she says. She sets the bag on the table and cocks her head at him, taking off her sweater and setting it on a chair with her purse. "Arthur, are you all right?" she asks, taking the two plates he's offering her.

"Fine," he answers, a little too quickly. "Just a bit tired." He twists the cap of her water bottle and hands it to her before he sits with a bottle of ale for himself.

"Thank you," she says, peeking at him while he digs into the bag. He doesn't seem 'just a bit tired.' And he doesn't seem 'fine', either.

"Thank you for bringing dinner, Guinevere," he says. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it," she says. "Not a big deal." She spoons some food onto her plate. "How was your day? Did Dr. Alined actually do anything today, or did you teach the entire class again?" she asks, smiling.

"I taught the whole thing again. He was out of the room for most of the hour," he answers, picking at his food. "How was your day? Anything... interesting happen?"

Gwen furrows her brow. Kind of an odd question. "Sort of," she shrugs. "Had to work at the library this afternoon. Found a fascinating Shakespeare text. Way old."

"Oh? Is that what you and Dr. Handsome were snuggling over in his office?"

Gwen's fork stops halfway to her mouth. She slowly lowers it to her plate. "Excuse me?" she asks, her voice like ice.

"My last class was cancelled today. I stopped in at the library," he answers, setting his fork down as well. "I saw you. With him."

"With whom? My boss?" she asks. "Dr. du Lac?"

"Ah! So, you don't deny you think he's handsome, then!" Arthur declares.

"What?" she asks, floored. "Arthur, he's my freaking boss. His attractiveness isn't even a factor!"

"Oh, so you do find him attractive!" he says, now raising his voice.

"Arthur, stop twisting my damn words!" she shoots back. "Dr. du Lac is my boss, nothing more. Was I in his office? Yes. We were working. Because I have a job at the library."

"Didn't look much like work to me, what with you laughing and smiling and him... feeling on you," he spits, lifting his bottle and taking a long drink.

"Feeling? He was most definitely not..." she stops, realizing there is nothing she can say that will make him see reason. He's spent all afternoon brooding over this. "You know what? I don't need to explain myself to you. If you can't trust me enough to believe me when I tell you—"

"I know what I saw, Guinevere," he says, his voice low. Somehow, it was better when he was yelling.

Gwen stands. "You have no idea what you saw, Arthur. You only know what you thought you saw. Look, I'm sorry you were hurt in the past. I'm sorry Mithian shit all over your heart. But, I'm not Mithian, and I'll thank you not to treat me like I am."

He looks up at her. The anger in his eyes doesn't mask the hurt hiding behind it. He almost looks haunted, plagued by memories of a broken heart. "You were laughing with him. He was smiling at you. Touching your shoulder. Leaning in close. He was fucking flirting with you and you were just going right along with it."

Gwen's jaw clenches. A tear spills out of the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek. "I'm going to say this one last time and then, I'm leaving," she says, her voice wavering. "He. Is. My. Boss. There is nothing between us. Absolutely nothing. If you don't believe me, that's your problem. I'm done." She turns, picks up her sweater and purse, and heads for the door.

"Guinev—"

xXx

Gwen opens the door to her flat and hears Abbie on the phone. She listens long enough to determine Abbie is not talking to Ichabod and waves as she heads to her room. Abbie waves back, a look of surprised concern on her face at seeing her sister home so early. With bleary, red eyes.

"Yeah, I'm here, sorry, Mom," Abbie says. "Gwen just came home and distracted me for a second. Thanks for letting us know. I'll tell her. Yeah. Love you, too, and love to Dad and Jenny from both of us." She looks up to see Gwen emerging from her room in fuzzy pajama pants and a sweatshirt, braiding her hair. She plops on the couch and leans her head on Abbie's shoulder. "Yes, Mom, we're fine. Okay. 'Bye."

Abbie looks at Gwen. "What happened?"

"He's a jerk."

She puts her arm around Gwen's shoulders. "Care to expand on that?"

Gwen shakily sighs. Abbie reaches to the end table and hands her sister a tissue. "He... I knew he'd been hurt in the past, but..."

"Gwennie, what happened? Did he get rough with you? If he so much as laid a hand on you, so help me, I will find a gun somewhere in this godforsaken country and..." Abbie demands, sitting up.

"No, no, he didn't touch me," Gwen says. "Put your badge away, Lieutenant." She sighs, wipes her nose, and tells Abbie what happened.

"What the hell?" Abbie asks, angry for her sister. "How dare he? Boy has got some serious jealousy issues. Holy crap."

"Abbie, dial it back. I don't need you to be angry for me. Really. I appreciate your support, but... I'll be okay," she says. Her voice breaks on the last two words, and she starts crying again. "Damn it," she mutters, dropping her face into her hands.

Abbie wraps her arms around Gwen, hugging her. "He's so stupid," Gwen says into Abbie's shoulder. "Why does he have to be so stupid?"

"Because he's a guy," Abbie sighs. "Guys get stupid sometimes. Unfortunately, so do we. Hopefully, he'll recognize his stupidity sooner rather than later."

Gwen nods, saying nothing. "I guess that's what I get for thinking he was perfect," she finally says.

"Gwen, this is not your fault," Abbie says, frowning. "He's the one with the issue here, not you."

"Sounds familiar," Gwen says, smiling just a little. Just the other day, she said the same thing about Crane to Abbie.

"We got ourselves a pair, didn't we?" Abbie says, sighing. In the very back of her mind, she wonders what Ichabod is doing and if he's okay. Not the time to be worrying about him.

Gwen nods, her breath hitching again. "I hate... it when... this... happens..." she says, crying again. "I... can't... stop."

"I know." Abbie hugs her sister again. "You really like him. Trust me, I know."

"I know you know," Gwen answers.

"I know you know I know," Abbie shoots back, smiling a little as she hears Gwen snort an involuntary laugh. "Don't snot on my shirt, Girl."

"I'm not... I don't think," Gwen says, leaning away from her sister. She reaches up and wipes Abbie's shoulder. "I think that's just tears." She blows her nose.

They sit back against the couch, shoulder to shoulder. "We have ice cream," Abbie says.

"We do," Gwen agrees.

Abbie stands and returns with the pint from the freezer and two spoons.

"Thank you, Abbie," Gwen says, digging her spoon in. "I'll be okay. Eventually. I just can't believe..."

"I know, I can't, either. I couldn't believe Ichabod, either. Kind of apples and oranges, though."

"Yeah, you're not pissed at Ichabod," Gwen says.

"Not really. Mostly sad." She swallows a spoonful of ice cream. "You know 'pissed' means 'drunk' over here, not 'angry'?"

"Yeah. I don't get that, though. 'Pissed' is such an accurately descriptive term for how I'm feeling. 'Angry' sounds too polite. 'Mad' doesn't even work." Abbie laughs suddenly. "What?" Gwen asks, confused.

"You don't remember? One time, when I was, like, 13 or 14, I said something 'pissed me off' and Mom said, 'Young ladies do not get 'pissed off,' and we were like, 'Um, yeah, we do," she says.

"Oh, God, I forgot about that!" Gwen says, laughing. Abbie smiles, happy to hear her sister's laughter. "Hey, what did Mom want? You were talking to her when I got home."

"Crap. Jenny," Abbie says, setting her spoon down. "Like you don't have enough on your mind. Her PFT numbers are down and she's lost weight, so they're watching her. Nothing serious yet, but the Jenny Advisory System is officially on 'yellow'."

"Shoot," Gwen says. "I hope she doesn't have to go in again. She hates the hospital. You done?" Abbie nods, and Gwen takes the ice cream and spoons back to the kitchen. "I'm going to my room. You coming?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to get any more studying done tonight now, anyway," Abbie says, following her sister into her room. Gwen stayed with me when I needed her; now, it's my turn.