Sometime before the present …

  Alex resists the urge to bang her head repeatedly on the wall beside her. It was difficult to resist, but credit to her willpower she somehow did.

  When she was told the Dean had sent for her, she would have never predicted Chris Jordan–the guy from the accident on the bridge–and his lovely wife summoning her, legs crossed comfortably in the traitorous Dean’s office.

  She tilts her head to the side in consideration, the other occupants in the room observing her like some important experiment. Oxford was nice this time of year, and since her ‘family’ had had a long standing relationship with the institution for centuries, getting in to finish this particular course would hardly be a problem.

  “Alex?” The Dean's voice pierces through her subconscious, the furrow in his brow informing her he most likely had been trying to get her attention for a while now.

  “Yes?” She answers and he sighs in relief.

  “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the couple seated in front of him, “She has her quirks, but is really brilliant.” he laughs sheepishly.

  Alex raises a brow at the particularly offending statement. The laughter dies in his throat.

  “Have a seat.” He gestures to the spare chair besides the lady. Yea, there was absolutely no way.

  “I'm good, thank you.” She crosses her arms behind her, and inclines her head at the Dean. Go on.

  “Very well.” the man adjusts in his seat. “This is Chris and Lilian Jordan.” he addresses her.

  “I know, we've met.”

  He nods. “At the Excursion, so I heard.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  A beat, where the Dean glances at the couple Alex is so very clearly trying to ignore, then back to her.

  “Anyway, they're here now to see you.”

  “What for?” She asks, her treatment of such important people visibly bothering the Dean.

  Chris sits up straight. “We'd like to offer you a scholarship–”

  “Don't need one.” She interrupts, eyes not leaving its gaze on the spreading bald spot on the Dean’s head. The fragility of human hair.

  “Uh. Really?” Chris stutters. She eyes him from her peripheral, noting his discomfort at being interrupted.

  “Mm-hm. I'm coping just fine with the fees.”

  She cranes her head as if reading off some invisible projection–

  “I'm living off a small fortune that I inherited ... from my grandparents.” she says finally. It had been a while since she'd had to explain the source of her income.

  The man’s wife Lily? Lilian surveys her dubiously. “And your parents?” She asks.

  Alex turns to meet her gaze. “I don't have any.” That part was true.

  “So you're an orphan?” Her husband pipes in, and both the Dean and his wife looked scandalized at the brusqueness of the statement. Point to him, Alex loved directness.

  “Chris!” Lilian scolds.

  Alex simply nods in agreement, pausing a moment to rectify; “A rich orphan. Like Batman.”

  The Dean and Lilian stare at her in incredulity, while Chris looks mostly fascinated. Alex smiles.

  “Could you give us a couple of minutes with her?” Lilian recovers first.

  “Of course, ma'am.” The Dean says, shaking the cotton out of his head, before he exits gracefully. Closing the door behind him.

  “Alexandra, Alexis? Which is it?”

  Alex whips around to face the woman, eyes having been glued to the door. She had been fantasizing stepping out alongside the Dean, this awkward and unimportant conversation far behind her.

  “Alex is fine.”

  “I noticed no one said your last name?” Lilian continues, and wasn’t she an insistent one?

  She sighs. “It's just Alex.”

  Lilians rears back in alarm. “Just Alex?”

  Alex raises a hand to her chest in exaggerated hurt. What century was the woman from?

  “Beyonce; Madonna, Shakira; Cher; Bono; Rihanna;” She lists, and Lilian relaxes in understanding. Jokes on her because Alex was just getting started. “Sting; Prince; Oprah; Confucious; Aristotle; Plato; Socrates–”

  “We get it!” Chris says.

  “Drake; Coolio; Common. I'm sorry, I have it all memorized. Fergie.” She exhales, “It's alright, Fergie's the last one.”

  Her eyes scour the couple for a moment, jaw working in thought. Digression aside, this people had summoned her for a reason. The sooner they addressed the reason, the sooner she got to leave.

  “Listen, If this is about your Nuclear accelerator–” she starts.

  “We're trying to thank you, asswipe.” Chris interrupts eloquently. He turns to his wife who already has her mouth open, poised to reprimand and continues. “Ah. I said 'wipe'.” he finishes, and the she closes her mouth with a click.

  Alex is taken aback. “Thank me?”

  “For saving our lives. That night on the bridge?” Lilian fields the question.

  They remembered, Alex panics internally. Oxford it was then. She had a lovely little chateau in Birmingham that could regain its magnificence after a little dusting. A car to transport her to and back from school would be small change. She winces. You knew things were so very very bad, when England was starting to sound like a holiday spot. At least her accent wouldn’t stand out there, she thinks optimistically.

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  “I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.” she fields weakly.

  “Okay, cut the crap. We obviously didn't tell anybody.” That was Chris.

  She relents. “So you're not here because I outsmarted your engineers?”

  “Not at all, some of them probably needed to retire anyway.” He replies, facing scrunching in a frown as he considers the thought.

  Tsking. “I see.”

  Chris hums before standing, his wife doing the same. “We’ll be on our way then. Since you don't need that scholarship.”

  He offers Alex a handshake, Alex eyeing the hand instead of taking it. Chris retracts his hand with a small shrug.

  Lilian fidgets a bit, like she couldn’t bear to be parted from her. Lurching for Alex, who almost doesn’t successfully fend off what was going to be a hug. “You’ll be alright?”

  Chris scoffs. “Lilian, she just said she has a fortune, of course she'll be alright.” He turns to Alex, eyes glimmering in the light. “Certifiable, but overall alright.”

  Alex shoves through a small gathering of pedestrians smack at the center of the walkway. Her terrible disguise of a baseball hat fumbling briefly but not displacing. Why on earth she didn't drive, she fails to remember, her annoyance increasing every time she bumps into someone, most people too engrossed in one thing or the other to even apologize for the fact. As if this bit of discomfort isn't enough, her phone buzzes. She groans, decently stepping out of the way to retrieve her phone, hand cupped over it in an attempt to view the screen.

  “Alex!” A familiar voice hisses in her ear, causing her to yelp unacceptably.

  “Jesus! Henry, you scared the shit out of me. I could have hit you!” She scowls, more annoyed at the fact that he had been able to get the drop on her.

  She angles an unamused brow at the laughing idiot who seems to be blissfully unaware of her irritation at the moment.

  “What are you doing standing here anyway?” he asks, red-dyed hair glistening in the sun.

  Alex returns to deciphering the cause of the buzzing on her phone. “Why, do you own the walkway?”

  “Technically yes, seeing as you're in front of my Café.” He replies glibly.

  A quick glance at the building beside her confirms his claim. Her scowl deepens. “Walking home, Henry, Same route as always.”

  “Wanna come in for coffee? It's on the house.” he asks.

  “Henry--”

  “It's not like the last time where the excuse was 'going out'. The Café is right here.” he gestures at the building beside them, arms outstretched in presentation like a car salesman.

  She glances at the quaint little shop beside them longingly, it was right there.

  “I would love to, It's just ... I don't drink coffee.”

  Henry arches a brow. “Really?”

  “I swear, I don't.” She honestly didn't, the beans tasted terrible to her.

  “We could have something else then?” He tries again, constantly moving in front of her to block her retreat.

  She slips out from beside him, the urge to flee the crowded walkway fueling her drive.

  “Some other time maybe.” She shoots over her shoulder, feet pacing away from Henry and his coffeeness.

  The quickening of steps echo from behind, and suddenly Henry is sliding right into step beside her. She sighs.

  “I don't get you, you know.” Henry huffs. “Your Dad, him I understand. He's funny, and he adores me.”

  Alex can't help but be amused. “So you don't get me because I don't adore you?” She asks.

  “Exactly! I am adorable.” He punctuates this with what he thinks is an adorable smile, eyelashes batting while his hands frame his face. “I mean, what's not to adore?”

  Alex stops to consider him. He was attractive, she thought reluctantly. Pity that motormouth was attached to him.

  “You're not adorable enough to make me have coffee with you.”

  Henry's pose collapses. “You are so mean, you know that?”

  “Really?” She asks, voice unnecessarily high pitched. “Because I think I'm adorable!” She finishes mockingly.

  She shoots him a wink, before starting on her way. Henry thankfully staying behind this time.

  “I don't think I'm adorable.” He yells after her. “I know!”

  The front door clicks into place after Alex enters, tossing her keys somewhere, and slumping on the couch.

  “Chris! You there?” She calls out to the murmuring coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

  She angles her head to confirm Chris is indeed alive, tearing through the kitchen in a rampage she was too tired to investigate at the moment. Satisfied at his well-being, she instead reaches for the TV remote, settling on a random episode of Bones.

  Chris emerges noisily from the kitchen, a messy trail of things that should most definitely not be in the kitchen behind him. He tosses a couple of probably important books from the bookshelf by the wall, eyes darting in between the nooks.

  “Keys. Alex, please tell me you've seen them?” He shoves his hand in a hole in the bookshelf, frowning when all he returns with are cobwebs.

  “I literally just came in the door.” She answers, eyes glued to the TV screen.

  “Well, did you see them before you left?” Chris returns, patience rapidly growing thin. How the hell was this her fault?

  “No Chris, I didn't see any keys. I don't even know what keys we're talking about.”

  “House, Car. The keys to my Medicine cabinet while we're at it.” He shuffles from the shelf to the chairs, trampling on a couple of first editions discarded uselessly on the floor. Alex winces.

  “I've missed the blood pressure pills two days in a row now, and the adult thing, would be to check where I stand.” He continues searching frantically, overturning throw pillows and displacing chairs cushions.

  “What do you need your car keys for anyway?” She takes him in properly, noticing belatedly, that he was a tad overdressed for couch lazing. The betrayer. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  ”Uh. It's-- uh, Bachelor Party.“ He responds quickly, not even trying.

  “It's 11am.” she humors him, “Let's try that again.”

  With a resigned sigh he continues in his path of disruption. “Fine. I'm going to the office.”

  Alex pops up, face set to scolding mode. “No! Chris, you are retired!” She scolds, and Akio would be so proud. “There was a whole party and everything! Not to forget, you made me move back in here so you wouldn't feel lonely--”

  “In this big ass house?” He finishes for her, not missing a step.

  “--in this big ass-- Yes, exactly!”

  “I remember, but this, this is very important. And I can't stress the 'very' in that sentence enough.” he clasps his hands together to emphasize.

  “Damian's at the office, he can do whatever it is for you.”

  “Him? Please. He's an incompetent ass kisser.” Chris shoots and goes back to stomping about, Alex briefly wonders who would clean up after him.

  “He has a Master's Degree in Mechanical Engineering.” she replies drily. He was an asskisser, but he was an intelligent one. Both things could be true.

  “And you have several PhDs in a lot of things.” Alex rolls her eyes at Chris’ favorite rant, tried, tested and true. She could subconsciously mouth some of the lines even.

  “Yet here you are fascinated by a–” he glares at the TV for a moment, “--Rom-Com tv show involving mostly dead people. That man dies by the way.” He finishes with a gesture to the man on screen. Alex makes a pained noise.

  “Why? I hadn't seen this episode yet.” She cries, resignedly turning off the TV.

  “This is Bones. Everyone new is either dead or about to die.”

  She lifts off the chair in determination. “You know what, I'm suddenly inclined to help you find your keys and send you on your way.”

  “Alex, come on.” He switches to soft coaxing, Step 2 in the battleplan ‘Get Alex to run the company.’ Truly Alex should have numerous awards for the number of times she's had to put up with–sometimes even fend off–this particular subject.

  “–You could be running the Company.” she pops back into real time to hear him finish.

  “Well like you Chris, I am retired. Unlike you however, I'm choosing to stay retired. Nothing for me, but food, and spoiler free episodes of Bones reruns.” She returns to her position on the couch, search party temporarily forgotten.

  Chris sighs. Plan failing once again.

  “Good for you. Me, I'm going to the office. The fear of decomposing into a fossil, looming over my head.” he proclaims dramatically, arms flailing over his head. “Alex I need my fucking keys!”

  Speaking of. “Did you check your jacket pocket?”

  He ruffles through each of his jacket pockets in turn, his grumbling unabated. “Of course I checked my jacket pocket. What do you think I--” He freezes at a pocket, the jingling causing Alex to narrow her eyes at him. Sure enough, there they were.

  “Never mind love, I found them.”

  This elicits a snort from Alex. “I swear, sometimes you give me severe whiplash.”

  “I'm taking that as a compliment.“ He counters, kicking at a throw pillow he had tossed earlier.

  “Why not let Ezra take you to work? I mean you pay the man, let him work.”

  “No, thank you. I'd like to enjoy my knees now, before the arthritis gets there.”

  He kisses the top of her head before heading for the door, Alex rumpling her nose and calling after him.

  “By the way you swore! So you get to do the dishes tonight!”

  “I'll just bribe Ezra into doing them for me!” Chris yells back, the front door clicking shut behind him.