Author's Note:

Thanks to those who took the time to read, review and put an alert on my story. I'm glad that there are people out there who are actually interested in this. Admittedly, I've been a little unsure about posting something after years of not writing or publishing. So thank you for the boost in self-confidence you gave me.

Here is chapter two for you.

June 13, 2008

Eric Beale sat on the hard oak wood chair, amidst his co-graduates of the California Institute of Technology, wearing a black graduation gown plus the matching hat and clutching a small folded piece of paper.

It was ninety degrees and the blonde young man felt sweat run down his back and legs, making him feel uncomfortable. It was required that he wore long pants underneath the gown, something he rarely if ever did. He was more of a bermudas kind of guy, relishing in the fact that his legs were able to breathe in them. With pants, however? Not so much. Wincing and adjusting his position on the chair, he took a closer look at the people around him. He had made one or two friends here while studying, Ira Wells being one of them, but hadn't really bothered to socialize with the other students over the years. He wasn't actually known to be a social butterfly, anyway, so no-one had bothered with him, either. He was, however, one of the honor students of their class and therefore respected among the others. His teachers had even asked him to deliver a speech as a representative of the class. Eric had tried to politely decline, but apparently as a scholarship holder he didn't really have a say in this.

Anyways, here he was, glancing around the crowd and eying the other graduates, whom were eagerly awaiting being called up to the podium to get their certificates. Eric turned around to look at the benches where family and friends of graduates were situated and he felt a pang of jealousy. No-one would be cheering for him. With his mother in a nursing home up in the hills, probably not even knowing that it was his graduation day, and his sister in San Diego, being a student herself, there was no-one else here for him.

Emma had originally wanted to come, but couldn't afford to buy the bus tickets to Los Angeles and back twice. Their mother's birthday was coming up in four days and since she wouldn't be able to stay the days in between his graduation and her birthday, she had to decide between both, which day she would come and chose their mothers birthday. He was okay with it, had even encouraged her to this decision. He had been thinking about loaning her the money, but in between his own bills and the nursing home fees, which he could barely cover with the part-time jobs he was working aside from college, he just couldn't. He knew he was already in debt with the costs of his mother's care.

So, Eric had pushed the feeling of sadness and self-pity aside. Graduating without anyone present for him was hard, but inevitable and it wasn't the first time that he was alone for something of this significance. This was just what his life had been like since he could remember and so far he had always managed somehow. Now wouldn't be any different.

Eric tuned back into the speech on the podium up front, just in time to realize that he should get ready for his speech.

"…we'd like to ask the top graduate of this years' graduation class up to the podium for his speech. He came to us with a full scholarship and impressed everyone here, including teachers and his fellow students, with his broad knowledge and insight. We are very proud to have him. Eric Bartholomew Beale III., if you would please come up here."

The young man stood up, adjusted his gown before he slowly made his way to the front and people around him started applauding him. This was surreal. He felt uncomfortable with all the people watching him and he also felt uncomfortable, that he would have to talk in front of them.

He took the three steps to the stage and was greeted by the University president, taking the hand that was being offered. "Thank you, Sir", he said politely and stood behind the lectern, carefully unfolding the paper with his speech notes. He was so freaking nervous that his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and coughed slightly, gathering his thoughts, but in the exact moment that he opened his mouth to start the speech, he was interrupted by an elderly woman, who came running from the office building of CalTech.

"Excuse me!", she called towards the podium, all eyes turning towards her. "I need to talk to Mister Eric Beale."

The president leaned down towards the clerk and whispered something along the lines 'we're in the middle of something' and 'you'll have to wait a few minutes' – Eric couldn't understand everything that was being said, but the woman's reply sounded urgent and a feeling of dread overcame him. After another few words exchanged between the president and the clerk, the president asked him to step down for a minute, then took the microphone into his hand and gave the audience an apology for the inconvenience, then stepped next to Eric.

"Mister Beale, a call just came through in your behalf. The St James Home For The Elderly wanted to inform you that your mother passed away in the early morning hours. They wanted to let you know that they already arranged some of the necessities regarding the funeral, but they need you there to take care of the more personal matters. My condolences."

Eric was thunderstruck. His mouth was dry, he couldn't speak and his legs didn't obey. Every color left his face and his breath hitched. He had been prepared for this, or so he thought. Why was he so shocked then? A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his head, things he had to do, people he had to call, all the arrangements he had to make that the personal at the nursing home wasn't authorized to do. It was too overwhelming right now.

Out of his peripheral vision Eric saw that the president had motioned for someone to lead him to a chair and bring him some water and then headed for the podium, probably to inform the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to announce that Mister Beale will not be holding his speech due to some personal matters that he has to attend to. I apologize and ask for your understanding."

That was everything Eric heard before his mind shut out everything around him. He barely registered the people around him asking if he was okay and if he needed something, but he politely declined and stood up, walking out of the ceremony, leaving campus and calling a cab to drive him to the Nursing Home.

Present

Eric Beale walked through the open doors of the mansion of OSP, holding an extra-large Styrofoam cup with coffee in hand. He glanced at his watch, which told him, he had even beaten his plan to arrive around nine. Content with his success he took a large sip of his coffee and walked the hallway into the open working space.

"Mister Beale." The roaring feminine voice of the Operations Manager drifted towards him as the petite old woman came towards him from her desk. Oh well, here it comes, he thought. He would be reamed out by his boss any minute now for not taking the morning off as he had been ordered to.

"Hetty", he greeted her with anticipation.

"Mister Beale." Hetty came to a stop a couple feet in front of him. "I thought I told you all that I did not want to see your faces here until noon."

"Yeah, um…", Eric shuffled his feet nervously.

"So why am I seeing you right now, in the middle of the bullpen, in the flesh, right in front of me?"

"I'm not really…", he started, but his protests were cut short.

"You don't want to imply that I'm seeing a fata morgana, are you? While Los Angeles is a warm place throughout the entire year, it's not hot and dry enough for my mind to produce such a figment of the imagination, Mister Beale."

Eric laughed nervously, but sobered up at her stern look. "No, you're right, it's not."

"What is it then? Is your alarm clock not functioning correctly?", she asked. Eric couldn't help the snort that escaped him. Hetty tilted her head. "What's so funny, Mister Beale?"

"As a matter of fact, it is", he looked at Hetty with a lopsided grin and the older woman nodded, amused by this as well. "But that's not the reason why I'm here this early", he added.

"I figured as much", was her to-the-point answer.

"Yeah, right. So… you probably want an explanation." Her eyes seemed to say 'You think?' without her lips so much as twitching but he understood it nonetheless.

Eric averted his gaze and looked around the bullpen, fidgeting restlessly. Damn it, why did he have to be so easily intimidated by the operations manager all the time? The woman was dangerous if she wanted to be, but other than the occasional threat she had never done anything to him that justified his anxiousness. 'Get a grip, Beale', he told himself. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, preparing his mind for what he was about to ask, but before he had a chance to say something Hetty surprised him with what she said next.

"To be honest, I didn't think I would be seeing you at all, today, Eric."

Dumbfounded, Erics jaw dropped open and after staring at her for a few moments, he realized how inappropriate he must be looking and pressed out a tongue-stricken, "Uh… why's that?" and closed his mouth.

"You know why." Hetty fixed him with a pointed look, cocking her head just a little.

"I don't", he tried to argue weakly, but he knew it was a futile attempt at a lie. "I do", he admitted finally and sighed.

"You still owe me and answer", Hetty reminded him as she turned around and walked towards her office, motioning the Tech Operator to follow him by crooking her right index finger. He reluctantly shuffled after, standing in front of the dark wooden desk awkwardly.

"I, um… I was a little preoccupied with our latest case the past few days and since I forgot to file the request for a day off I felt I didn't have the right to stay away from work without notice. So, I figured I would come in earlier than what you expected, write my reports on the case and ask you for the rest of the day off, afterwards." He trailed off, uncertain of her reaction.

Hetty studied him closely for a few seconds, then motioned towards the chair opposite hers. "Sit, Mister Beale", she instructed and he obeyed although reluctantly. Satisfied with this, she continued. "Eric, I have to be honest with you. It took me by surprise that no request landed on my desk this year. As you very well know, it's too late to file it now, as the Department of Human Resources doesn't approve of late notices unless it's something very urgent. But I'm willing to get a good word in with them on your behalf, if this is in your interest?"

Eric shifted on his seat. "Hetty, I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to be in your debt. I'm here now and I might as well finish those reports. I promised my sister, though, that I would make room this afternoon. Only if that's okay with you, Hetty. If something comes up, I'll stay, of course…"

"You have my permission, Mister Beale", Hetty interrupted him, effectively ending his rambling.

"Really? I mean, are you sure?"

"I am."

"Great, that's… awesome. Thank you, Hetty!" Eric jumped up and made a motion to hug the smaller woman, but stopped himself, scratching his head in embarrassment and smiled uncertainly. Hetty pursed her lips to keep herself from smiling at his antics.

"You're welcome. Now shoo." Hetty underlined her words with a wave of her hand.

"Right. Thanks again." With that Eric left the small office and headed in the direction of the stairs, only to be stopped by Hetty again.

"Mister Beale", she called after him and paused mid-step and turned around on his heels. "I hope you have no intention to take this up to ops with you!" Hetty nodded towards the coffee that he had forgotten about and still carried in his right hand.

"Um, no, if course not, Hetty", he hastily replied, threw the half-full cup in a nearby trashcan and hurried up the stairs. Once he sat down at his work station in ops he pulled out his smartphone and typed a quick message to Emma.

My boss gave me the afternoon off.
Just have to finish some paperwork.
Call you, when I'm done.
Later.

He hit 'send' and turned towards the screen, opened up a new document and started writing his reports with a smile plastered on his face.

Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

- S.