Author's Note: The chapters are going to be short because I'm still a fledgling. Have pity and review if you're feeling extra-giving! ;o)
Flashback, Professor's POV, pt. 1
He stumbled into the alcove, gasping from the searing pain. He was certain that the bullet had just grazed his arm, but he also knew that at least two ribs were cracked, and the slash on his thigh wasn't too happy about him walking with it. He managed to slide the key into the lock, and press the code for entrance, ducking inside out of the rain.
Nicky appeared at the top of the stairs, and he scowled at her worried expression. He'd tried to stay away, out of her hair, but here he was, forced to ask for help. He had seen the look in her eye when they'd met, and had almost despised her for thinking him human enough to be desirable. He was a hardened agent, killed more people than she probably had spoken to all week. He was not someone who attracted groupies, even slender, intelligent and naïve ones.
Each time they had met for his evaluation, he had remained brusque, almost biting. Yet she had remained unfazed, unwilling to rise to the bait. She had tried to match his calm, but every once in a while he caught a jerky movement that belied her placid exterior.
Bringing himself back to the moment by leaning a bit too hard on his leg, he hobbled over to the kitchen chair. She had reached the kitchen by now, and had calmly retrieved the first aid kit and begun filling a pot with hot water. He sat down silently, taking perverse pleasure in dripping all over the kitchen, took off his glasses and raised his eyes to hers as he began shedding his jacket and shirt. To his surprise, she simply looked back calmly. He bit back a hiss of pain as he tried to pull his wounded arm through the wet sleeves, and she reached over to help him finish undressing. When he dropped his pants to reveal the deep gouge in his thigh, she had the audacity to glare at him, as if he'd gotten slashed on purpose.
They still didn't speak as she began cleaning the blood from his wounds. He sat stoically in his boxer-briefs, a muscle twitching in his jaw whenever she pressed too hard or scraped against the open skin. When she wordlessly stepped back and looked at him, he stood to show her the bruises at his side. Her lips tightened, but she merely put a disposable hot patch on each one, taping them in place. She handed him a towel to dry off his hair, which he attempted to do one-handed, irked that he looked almost clumsy.
When she took it from him, and began to rub his head with it gently, he tried to take it back. To his near-shock, she tisked and slapped his hand. Too surprised to do anything, he sat back and allowed her to coax the water from his hair. As an added bonus, his ever-present pounding headache had begun to lessen, infinitesimally. He relaxed a muscle at a time, but as she continued to soothe the pain, he closed his eyes and gave in.
A few moments later, he realized that she had slowed, and her movements were languid, more caressing. He stiffened again, and sat up, jerking out of her hands, and put his glasses back on. "Thanks," he grunted, breaking the silence, looking up at her once more.
She studied him for a beat, then swept her gaze back down to his thigh and finally spoke. "You should sleep here tonight. If you start walking again on that cut, you'll just open it up again." He nodded. "You were lucky it missed your femoral artery," she added needlessly, in that tone that suggested that she thought he had picked the fight with his mark deliberately, then had offered up his leg voluntarily. He scowled again, but limped into the room she indicated.
She disappeared for a time, then came back with a bottle of water and some aspirin. He had stretched out on the bed, careful to keep his leg level. She handed him the water and pain killers, then hesitated. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes again, and sighed. "Yes?"
She shrugged, somehow—he cursed himself for noticing—making the move look elegant. "I know you'll pull your vanishing act as soon as you feel better, so it's futile for me to tell you that you need to stay off your leg until it at least scabs over. But I figured we might as well kill two birds with one stone, and have your evaluation now. You're due in two days, anyway." She looked tense, as if expecting to have to fight him about it.
Knowing it would throw her off track, and refusing to think about why he enjoyed confusing her, he nodded. "Very well."
She blinked. "Pardon?"
"Okay. Let's do it now." He raised his eyebrows as if to suggest that he was the one forcing her into it.
The frown was on her face now, but she turned and retrieved her notebook.
(a/n: Yes, there's more, but it's not gelling together properly in my mind just yet.
As a side note, I used to be one of those people that didn't like author notes, and especially didn't like the ones asking for reviews, but now I know how important feedback feels! ;o)