They hadn't let him back in his class for the rest of the day. Harper that is. Guber had had his little say ranting on how Harry Senate shouldn't be in any classroom. Steven had taken over his classes for the remainder of the day not finding a suitable replacement in such short notice. Harry guessed he had just told them to read their textbooks and that was that. As much as Harry didn't really want to leave his class, but he was silently relieved. If the principal had been any one other than Steven, Harry would have been suspended or possibly fired a week ago. But Steven was sympathetic and told him to take a few days off to rest. Rest was the furthest thing from his mind.

Ashley haunted his mind like an angry spirit, just making him more guilty as the time went on. This time, however, he wasn't going to blame himself. He couldn't blame himself. He blamed Harold and would not rest until Harold Whitmore was behind thick metal bars.

Harry sat casually at his desk picking through papers that lay scattered on his desk. He noticed that the papers had previously been picked through. He guessed Harper had been bored.

It didn't matter to him. It's not like there was anything important there.

Harry arranged them into a stack which cleared up some space, when Ronnie walked in. This time he didn't groan. He needed her help.

"I thought you were gone, and I saw your door open.." Ronnie told him upon entrance. Harry straightened up a few more things and then looked up at her.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said and then stood up, crossing his arms wondering how to put the next words he wanted to say. Ronnie said nothing in response but showed that she was intently listening.

"You trust me right?" he asked her in all seriousness, not exactly knowing what she would respond with, but hoping it would be a 'yes'. She sort of looked down and chuckled as if thinking of all the times when she might not have.

"On the most part.. yes, you always mean well," she finally said and looked back up wondering what all of this was leading to. Harry paused still thinking of how to come out with his ridiculous theory.

"When I was.. in the hallway - I wasn't in the hallway," he told her and paced a few steps. Ronnie cocked her head to the side wondering what the hell he was saying.

"Oh?"

"I was in a hospital room-" he stopped himself before going into one of those 'And you were there.. and you were there.. and the pilsbury dough boy was there..'

"It wasn't a normal hospital room though," he continued, "There was some doctor who was sticking needles in me to 'keep me quiet'."

"Harry, what are you getting at here?" she crossed her arms.

"Ashley was there, Ronnie. She told me that I killed her because I confronted her father, who she said, killed her," Harry finished off looking at a glarey spot on the floor, and then looked up at her. She raised her eyebrows for a second.

"You think that Mr. Whitmore killed his daughter? Harry-" She was going to tell him that he was crazy and insane again. It was all in her voice.

"How did she die?" He interuppted her speech, now curious on the details, no matter how much it pained him to talk about it.

"Well.. she drowned herself in the bathtub-"

"Who drowns themselves in the bathtub?!" No 'that' was ridiculous. He was expecting pills, slit wrist, or maybe even a hanging, but drowning in the bathrtub? Hell, if he were to kill himself, he would at least slit his wrists before the bathrtub.

"There were thousands of tub drownings last year alone-" Ronnie dictated.

"Oh bull." Pause. "That is bull." Harry paced a few more steps, then put his hands at his waist.

"Would you drown yourself in a bathtub?" Harry asked her with a straight face, and she chuckled again.

"Well I wouldn't kill myself, so-"

"If you were in Ashley's place," he finished off. Ronnie took a minute to imagine herself as a depressed teenager.

"No, I don't think-" she started but was once again interuppted.

"Exactly." Harry crossed his arms, ending his case.

"Harry.. A dream is not useable evidence," Ronnie's voice turned Lawyer.

"Then investigate! Have any of those crap talking cops even done that?" Harry threw one hand in the air. "Did they really think that if Ashley's father had killed her, he would have come right out and said it?" He made his voice a little lower to act as Harold Whitmore. "Uh.. yeah officer, while my daughter was taking a shower, I snuck in there, gave her tits a little squeeze and then drowned the shit out of her. Send me to jail please."

Ronnie tried not to smile at his intense sarcasm.

"Well no, but the parents were distraught-"

"If you had just killed your daughter and wanted to pass it off as suicide, wouldn't you fake a few tears too to escape the slammer?"

Ronnie considered his case and then gave in.

"All right. I'll bring it up with the head agent," Ronnie uncrossed her arms.

"Thank you," Harry concluded and walked back around to sit at his desk. Ronnie started on her way out slowly. She looked back at Harry who was back to rearranging his desk, and she smiled.

Such passion in that man, she thought. Then she walked out, letting him be.

-

Harry was just finishing up with his desk when a large figure stormed into his classroom. He looked up at the surprise guest to see a mildly overweight blonde woman in faded jeans, a loose ponytail, and her brow narrowed.

"What kind of teacher do you think you are?!" the voice boomed as she approached Harry's desk. He pushed some more papers aside he was due to grade and raised his eyebrow at the fuming woman.

"Excuse me?"

"Today my kid comes home to tell me that his teacher is passed out in the hallway. I don't pay my tax dollars for seizuring teachers!" She put her chubby hands at her waist. Harry pushed himself away from the desk.

"What kind of school is this anyway? There's homosexuals prancing around fondling eachother up in supply rooms, teachers beating the crap out of other teachers, riots-"

"Look, I'm not the one you should be talking to about this," Harry interuppted her heated rant and stood up from his desk and chair.

"Oh, and should I go to that big principal of yours? He's probably too busy eating," the woman insulted, smirking.

"I'm surprised that you happened to take a minute to stop inhaling chili dogs to waddle your fat ass to my classroom," Harry said dryly back, picked up a stack of papers, and started on his way out.

The woman was clearly insulted and even more angry and Harry smiled to himself as he walked down the hall from his classroom.

He hated arrogent people like that.