Chapter 7 – See Part 1 for disclaimers.

FRESHER'S WEEK, METROPOLITAN CITY UNIVERSITY CAMPUS

Stephen had never felt so alone. Hundreds; literally hundreds of people, scurrying around from dorms to lectures to pubs to clubs to cafes to dorms again. It was all so bewildering. So alien and so confusing. He should be glad; no one here knew him, he could be any one he wanted. Perhaps he could be the life and soul of the party? Only he hadn't yet found a party to be life and soul of. Studious then? No, subject lectures didn't start until the next week. The glamorous one? Stephen regarded the worn jeans and jacket he was wearing. No, not glamorous.

Stephen flitted amongst the groups; queuing for his ID Card, queuing for his timetable, queuing for his grant; and all the time passing the same information; name, subject, previous school, and no he didn't know... whoever, and no, he hadn't been to... wherever, and yes, wasn't it great to be free for once... and yes he would see... whoever at the Union that night.

Well, he'd gone to the Union, and he'd seen the daunting groups of students ranged there. As an anthropology/zoology student there was a wealth of material available for study just in the Union.

That large group by the bar, for instance; three dominant males, four subservient, and at least eight prowling females, not to mention the ones who assayed sorties against the pack. Then the group by the jukebox; established pride, two languid males, three females and either a hanger on, or security. Another set by the door; matriarchal perhaps. Three female, one clearly subservient male...

What was he doing?

This was his chance to shine, his chance to leave behind all the failings of his youth and his family, and what was he doing? Hovering on the outside, looking in, just as he had always done.

Stephen made his way to the bar, ordered the most lethal cocktail on the menu, drank it and chased it back with a pint of something whose name came from pre-Biblical times. Then he sashayed, or more probably staggered, onto the dance floor. There was laughter at him, and unkind jeers at him, and then there was...

... "She said her name was 'Helen', and I said, 'Helen of Troy?' And she said, 'You flatterer', and I said, 'Only if it isn't true' and she said 'It's true', and I said 'What about Paris?' and she said I was Paris and I said 'You know what happens if you anger the gods?' Christ, Nick, please stop me!"

Cutter took Stephen's hand and held it to his shaking head. "It's okay, Stephen. Just, just finish it."

Stephen shuddered and gripped Cutter's hand tightly, "Do you really want to know?" he was almost beseeching.

"Yes, I really want to know," sighed Nick.

Hart gazed into his face and recognised the determination there. Taking a deep breath, Stephen continued, "That was the start of it. In the morning, well, I woke up feeling great." He stared at Cutter with a challenge in his eyes. "What did you feel like when you lost your virginity?"

"Top of the world," Cutter said sadly.

Hart watched him for a moment, his shoulders tense, and then Stephen relaxed and sighed. "Helen was your first too, wasn't she?"

And no matter how intrusive that question was, Cutter knew Stephen deserved an answer. "She was my only." Cutter said.

Hart nodded again, "Figures. Helen never was one to share."

"Yeah," sighed Cutter.

"D'you really want to hear the rest?"

"I need to, Stephen. I'm sorry that it's difficult for you. And believe me, it's difficult for me too, but I need to know."

Hart nodded and resumed.

The Union bar was quiet, the juke box silent, the floor and booths deserted. Stephen looked around apprehensively. Why did Helen want to meet here? Now? Hours before opening time? She was going to dump him, wasn't she? Stephen did not want that to happen. It couldn't. His whole existence centred on Helen. Sure, she was older than him, but her warmth, her caring words, her exotic, intoxicating presence was more than he'd ever thought he deserved. She brought out the best of him; she was so supportive, so willing to listen, and Stephen had never had that.

"There you are!"

Stephen whirled round at the sound of her voice, "Helen," he breathed his smile and took a step forward, only to falter as Helen took a step back into the glare of a spotlight. "Are you okay?"

Helen smiled, "Yes, Stephen, I am very okay."

Stephen relaxed minutely, "You haven't been around, I was worried," he moved forward, ready to embrace his lover, his soul mate, his best friend, but Helen stepped back again, into the shadows. "Helen?"

"Sorry, Stephen, but it's time to move on."

Stephen gaped like a landed fish, "What?" he spluttered.

"My husband is back. I have to be there for him, for now anyway," Helen said dismissively.

"What?" Stephen repeated, and then his brain caught up with what she had just said, "Husband?"

Helen laughed, "Yes, my husband. Dedicated, driven, all of that." She snorted disdainfully, "Well, he shouldn't be surprised that I found distractions elsewhere."

"Distractions?" Stephen couldn't believe he was hearing this.

Helen stepped up to him and stroked his cheek, "Very, nice, distractions, Stephen. You were a lot of fun." Abruptly she turned, grabbed her back pack and strode away.

"Helen!" Stephen stood rooted to the spot. He wanted to go after her, needed to go after her, but his feet wouldn't move, and before he knew what was happening he was on his knees, breath hitching, heart pounding, and wishing that it would just pound its way out of his chest because he sure as hell didn't have a use for it anymore.

"I went back to my dorm, and I, I really thought that it was the end. I didn't want to live without her."

Nick nodded, reminded all too brutally of his own emotions; he had felt the same. Only Stephen's unwavering support had got him through those dark days when he had given in to the despairing thought that Helen was dead rather than missing. Looking at the bowed head before him, realising the hurt radiating off of Stephen, Cutter was totally surprised by the vehement hate that welled up inside him. Helen had done this. Helen had hurt Stephen.

"I cried," Stephen said in broken tones. "Felt like I was crying for hours. Then I felt like a fool." Stephen raised his head, "I built up this glorious romance and I wanted it to be good, perfect. I didn't need anyone else because I was with Helen. When she left, dumped me, there was this gaping hole left in me and I didn't know what to do, except end it."

Cutter's gaze sharpened abruptly, "Stephen," he said in a low voice.

Stephen shied away like a startled horse, "You wanted to know." He said almost with accusation.

Cutter silently agreed.

"Well, it was stupid, okay? But I was upset." Stephen shook his head again. "Sometimes, I can't really believe it happened, but well, it did. I was left with a headache, so I took a couple of pills. They didn't work quick enough, so I took a couple more. They didn't help, so I thought washing them down with whiskey would be better, it wasn't, so I took more." Stephen risked a glance at Cutter and was slightly reassured by the look of horror on his face. "I guess I passed out at some point, but I hadn't taken enough for serious damage. I spent the next day throwing up, big time. When I felt better, I went for a walk. And, Nick, that was the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. It seemed to take forever. And I realised that no matter what had happened, no matter how lonely I was or how hurt I was, I didn't want my life to end." He chuckled, mirthlessly, "And I ended up outside the Zoology Department, marched straight in and signed up for any and every course I could fit in."

Nick took a deep breath, "I'm glad you did."

Hart grimaced. "You might not be."

Cutter swiftly grabbed Stephen's hand, "I will always be glad you did."

Stephen's head ducked, "But that's when I found out who Helen's husband was," he whispered.

Cutter merely tightened his hold, "Tell me," he said softly.

Hart checked the scrap of paper in his hand for the umpteenth time, correlating what was written there with the room numbers he was passing. They didn't match. And if he went much further he'd end up in the boiler room.

A door scraped open behind him. Stephen whirled crushing the paper in his hand. He saw a spiky headed silhouette glancing up and down the corridor. "You Hart?" a voice demanded.

Stephen nodded dumbly.

"Well get in here," the voice ordered with irritation.

Stephen hurried back to the doorway and stumbled through. The lights were glaring, illuminating several glass cabinets, many paper strewn desks, a sprawling computer and a full sized, though incomplete, 'raptor skeleton. "Wow." Stephen breathed.

His guide turned at the outright wonder he heard in Stephen's voice and Nick Cutter smiled as he held out his hand, "Professor Nick Cutter. Good to have you on board."

Stephen automatically returned the gesture, "This is amazing!"

Cutter chuckled. "I like to think so," he broke off as a door behind them opened, "Ah, here's the light of my life! Helen, Helen, come meet our new research assistant. Stephen Hart, this is my wife and confidante, Helen Cutter. Helen's just had her thesis passed. By the end of the month the sign on the door will read the 'Professors' Cutter." Proudly he slipped an arm around Helen's waist. Helen leaned comfortably into his touch.

Stephen blinked, "Helen?"

"That's right," Helen said pleasantly. She held out her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hart. I'm sure you'll enjoy working with us."

"She never said a word. It was like all we had shared never existed. Sometimes I got so frustrated I wanted to punch you, or kiss her or leave," Stephen took a breath, "And then she disappeared. At first I thought she was hiding out, but that didn't make sense. Why would she need to? She'd never come near me while you were around. You obviously didn't know. And I wanted to keep it that way. I'm sorry, Professor, but I did. Her indifference to me was just the icing on the cake. I knew I'd never meant anything to her. But I wanted to mean something to you. You encouraged me, every step of the way. I wouldn't have finished my degree without your support. And all the time I had this huge secret, and I couldn't tell you! I couldn't." Stephen collapsed back in the chair. "I'm sorry, so, so sorry. I never wanted you to find out."

Cutter swallowed over a dry throat. "That's kind of what I thought."

"You what?"

"I know you, Stephen. You would never betray me like that. And you didn't. Not really."

"How can you say that? I slept with your wife!"

"You didn't know she was my wife, and neither did she."

Hart blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"Think about it, Stephen. Think about what you just said. The Helen that we knew, together, never had an affair with you. The woman that you had an affair with was from this time. She wanted to hurt me, teach me a lesson, take you away from me. And she almost succeeded."

"What are you saying?"

"Helen played us. She saw that I was getting close to Claudia and she stopped it by making sure Claudia was never born. She saw that you were loyal to me and she tried to separate us. It nearly worked too."

"This is crazy!" Stephen exclaimed. "Do you realise what you are saying?"

"Oh, yes," Cutter said serenely, "The question is, do you?"

Hart regarded the Professor with wide eyes, "I'm not sure."

Cutter's face split in a predatory grin, "Helen has her own agenda, I want to shake it up, but I need your help."

"How?"

"Can you let Helen manipulate you again?"

"No," Hart shook his head in denial, "Oh no, no, no."

"Yes." Cutter stated implacably.

FIN, for now.

Thanks for your reviews; I've appreciated your encouragement. This is not the end. But neither is this the story I set out to write. Kudos to the series' writers for making 'Jenny Lewis' just as essential as Claudia Brown was. I knew it was a mistake to keep watching week by week; I should have just written the story, taped the series and then kicked back and enjoyed the ride. But I didn't. I had to find some justification for Hart's betrayal. I need my heroes heroic and without clay feet. Besides tonight's teaser was just – epic! If they kill him off, I'll bring him back, I can do that! And don't you want to know who 'he' is? Thanks for reading.