This is a sequel to "What's At Stake," somewhat sooner than I had anticipated writing one. What can I say? I missed these guys! It picks up pretty much where the last one left off. This time around, Elijah has kindly agreed to share the POV of this story with Jenna. She was a little bashful at first, but I promised her we wouldn't reveal all of her innermost thoughts to Elijah, so let's keep those between us, 'kay? ;-)
NOTE: This story is also posted on Fanfiction.net, where it is apparently A LOT easier to leave comments/reviews, so if you feel so inclined as to comment, and this site gives you a hard time about it, please feel free to review over there.
Here's the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6910203/1/Just_Enough_Rope
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If I'm gonna hang myself on someone else, he's just enough rope,
And I know he's bad news but I can't say no.
If bitter is sweet then he's just what I need,
So kiss me 'til it bleeds.
--Nina Gordon, “Kiss Me ‘Til It Bleeds”
CHAPTER ONE
“What? That’s this Thursday? I had it down as next Thursday,” Jenna told Carol Lockwood, pinching her cell between her ear and shoulder as she trotted down the stairs of Barrowman Hall and burst out the glass door.
Carol sighed; Jenna could feel the waves of disapproval wafting off of her, even over the phone. “No. I specifically told you that the committee meeting is this Thursday. You can do it, can’t you?”
Jenna jumped off of the sidewalk and onto the grass as an undergrad on a skateboard, ear buds blaring, whizzed past her, missing her by only a couple of inches. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can do it.” In my copious amounts of spare time.
“Good. We’ll expect you promptly at 2:00. Don’t be late.” Carol hung up.
Speaking of late… Jenna glanced at the time on her phone: 11:45. Fifteen minutes past the time she was scheduled to meet with her new faculty advisor. Yeah, she was going to make a great first impression. And she’d already been warned by some of her peers that the guy was moody as hell. As if she hadn’t had enough set-backs already, now Dr. Jenkins, who had been so understanding through Miranda’s death and all of the craziness that had followed, had opted for an early retirement package and jetted off to Arizona before the start of the semester. Now she had a thesis proposal due to go before the committee in another three weeks – her last opportunity after her two previous postponements – and here she wasn’t even on time to meet with the professor who would largely seal her fate.
Jenna shifted it into another gear, nearly jogging to the large brick building that housed the University’s Psychology department. She took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor, where Professor Richard Mitchell’s office was located. There was a swath of light in front of the doorway when she popped out of the stairwell, indicating that he at least hadn’t taken another student in to fill the timeslot. Slipping past a knot of students who were comparing notes in the middle of the hall, she skirted along the wall for the last few yards to the professor’s office and knocked on the door casing.
The man seated at the desk, talking on the telephone, was in his mid-forties if she were to guess, fit, with a thick head of brown hair and a close-trimmed beard. He gestured toward the empty seat. Jenna closed the office door behind her and put her cell phone on vibrate before sitting. Glancing around the office, she noted all the tack holes in the now bare walls, artifacts of the many colorful posters of hot air balloons that used to hang there; Dr. Jenkins had professed his intention to take up ballooning once he moved out to the desert.
“You’re late, Miss Sommers,” Mitchell said, hanging up the phone.
No shit. “I know, I’m sorry. Parking was non-existent, and I had to stop by the bursar’s office – ”
“I see here you’ve already been granted two extensions on your graduate work,” he cut in, ignoring her excuses and looking through a folder with her name on it. “Are you now prepared to go through with your thesis proposal?” He flipped the folder closed and sat back, crossing his legs as he regarded her.
“Um, yeah. I mean, I have some ideas to go over with you – ”
“Miss Sommers, the committee meets in three weeks. Which means it is due in to me in two. I would hope that you’re a little beyond the ‘idea’ stage and well into your abstract.”
“Right. Sure. No, I get it. I’ve got my notes right here…” Jenna perched her courier bag on the edge of his desk and flipped the top flap open, thumbing through the folders and papers she had jammed into it willy-nilly in her effort to get out the door that morning. She really needed to clean it out one of these days. Seeing the sheaf of papers she wanted, she wriggled her fingers into the tight space, trying to get a hold of it while the professor tapped his fingers impatiently. After giving herself a wicked paper cut, she pushed her hand in far enough to grip the stack and gave it a good, hard tug.
The packet, initially stuck, came loose with a jerk. As it cleared the bag, some of the other items haunting the bottom flew out with it. A couple of ballpoint pens fell out from between the papers and bounced onto the floor. A half roll of Lifesavers rolled under the desk, and a panty shield flew out, landing on the desk right in front of the professor. “Heh. 'Always. They have wings!'” she joked, blushing furiously as she snatched it off his desk and stuffed it back into her bag. She mentally pictured a huge hole opening up in the floor and swallowing her, putting her out of her misery.
She stooped to pick up the pens, giving the Lifesavers up as a lost cause, and almost upset the whole thing on the floor, but somehow managed to catch it as it tipped. Setting it down beside the chair and sitting back down, she pushed her hair behind her ears and handed her notes to Mitchell.
He flipped through the first couple of pages. “Dr. Jenkins’s notes indicated that you were planning to study the relationship between parental expectations of perfection and the birth order amongst siblings. What you’ve jotted down here has nothing to do with that topic.”
“Well, no. I… I thought I might… change it up a little.”
“A little? ‘Denial of Facts-in-Evidence When Faced With The Supernatural?' I’m not sure I follow your hypothesis here.” He dug down a few more pages, stopped. He ran a hand down over his face. “Miss Sommers. You are aware that this is supposed to be a research-based, academic work, not an exercise in creative writing, yes?”
Jenna pushed at her hair again and shifted in her chair. “Yeah, I realize that. But if you look through the list of reference articles – ”
“ – All of which appear to come from various websites, of dubious origin.”
“Those were what I came up with on the fly, but I’m sure if I have a little bit more time I can – ”
“Miss Sommers. You’ve been granted two extensions already. You are, to put it simply, out of time.” He paged through the rest of her notes, past the makeshift bibliography, and into some of the anecdotal examples she had listed. One in particular seemed to catch his interest. He read through the rest a little more slowly and, when he finished, regarded her thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “So you’re positing that, if supernatural elements did truly exist, society as a whole would deny all evidence of that existence because it is inconsistent with society’s normative view of the natural world and its established belief paradigm?”
I should totally write that down; it sounds way smarter when he says it like that. “In a nutshell, yes.” She grinned. “No pun intended.” He eyed her blankly. “You know, ‘nut’ shell? As in ‘nuts’, which is how the idea sounds… um, nevermind.” For fuck sake Jenna, stop talking!
"Part of your thesis work must be based on experimentation; it can't rely solely on individual case studies." He shook his head finally. "It's an untenable thesis. You can't experiment and document a person's denial of 'facts in evidence' when they are not in evidence. You should stick with your original idea, if you do indeed intend to complete your graduate work. Is that your intention, Miss Sommers?"
"Yeah. Of course. That's why I'm here."
"Your academic history might argue otherwise, as would your lack of preparation here today."
Well excuse the hell out of me! I was a little busy with doppelgangers and curses and getting kidnapped by Original Vampires. How are those for 'facts in evidence'? "Okay, look. I've had kind of a dire family situation to deal with – "
"I'm aware of your sister's death and your subsequent guardianship of her children. However, that was over a year ago now, yes?"
"Um, do you have kids, Professor? Teenage kids? Because they pretty much constitute an on-going dire family situation." Especially when they are dating vampires.
"I'm going to be blunt, Miss Sommers. I don't believe that you are either temperamentally or academically suited to a career within the strict confines of the profession of psychology." He pulled the sheaf of papers back toward him. "However... some of these ideas and anecdotes that you've put forth here are... intriguing. I sense an interest and a passion in this subject matter that is conspicuously absent from your previous work." He set both feet on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Have you considered a shift to the study of folklore?"
"Folklore?" He wants me to study fucking fairy tales?!
"Granted, it's an area of anthropological study rather than a psychological one, but I suspect it would be a better fit. Take for example this werewolf curse you've referenced. Surely you're aware that stories of werewolves span cultures and continents. You could do some good work with a comparative analysis of such mythologies."
She could feel the flush starting, creeping up her neck, over her face, up into her hairline, until her whole head felt hot and prickly and about to shoot off if she were to fully give in to her rapidly rising temper. "Really. You've known me for all of ten minutes, and you've decided that I should just change my entire area and program of study, just when I'm preparing to write my thesis?"
"Miss Sommers – "
"You know, it may not be evident to you from your notes, Professor Mitchell, but I have been working my ass off toward this graduate degree for way longer than I care to think about. And based on one conversation, you want me to just ditch all of that to go study campfire stories?"
"And what would you call these?" He tapped her stack of notes.
"A mistake. Obviously." She grabbed the packet and stuffed it back into her bag, or tried to. She succeeded only in mangling the corners of the pages as they resisted going back into its too-jammed confines. Jenna stood and tossed the papers onto the chair while she closed the bag back up and tossed it over her shoulder, then shoved them under her arm.
"Miss Sommers – "
"I'll have my thesis proposal – on my original topic – on your desk for review in two weeks." With that, she spun and tore out the door. Only a few students remained in the hallway; those stepped back out of her way as she marched down the hall, fuming. She kept that pace, propelled by fury and indignation, until she was well out of the building and halfway to her car, parked way the hell out in northeast bumfuck. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she dialed Andie's number. "Hi," she huffed out, when the other woman answered. "Are you free for a late lunch?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It flew out onto his desk?" Andie laughed, spearing a cucumber with her fork.
Jenna ran a french fry through the ketchup and nodded. It was only lukewarm; she had spent the first half hour at the Grill ranting about the events of her morning. "Yup. Right in front of him. Plop."
Andie chewed and swallowed, dabbing dressing off of her lips with her napkin. "Wow. That's quite a morning. You totally need to order dessert."
"Dessert? Hell, I think I need a drink." She glanced around. "Do you suppose it's too early?"
"It's five o'clock somewhere."
Jenna shoved her plate aside and crossed her arms on the table in front of her, dropping her head onto them with a groan. "What the hell was I even thinking, trying to change up my thesis topic now? And to that?"
"Yeah," Andie drawled. "That... is kinda something you can't just put out there, Jenna. Seriously."
"I know," she answered into her arms. When Andie didn't say anything else, she picked her head up to see the witch regarding her, one eyebrow raised. "I know!"
The waitress came over to pick up their plates. "Can I get you ladies anything else?" she asked, clearing the silver and the soiled napkins from in front of them.
"I'll try the strawberry shortcake," Andie told her.
"And I'll have a hot fudge brownie sundae. With extra 'wow, has my day been crap!'"
"Extra hot fudge sauce. Got it," the waitress winked at her and retreated.
"Where is Conner?" Jenna asked. It still seemed weird to think of Andie with a kid. He was adorable, though, and precocious as hell.
"Daycare, at the station. I have some editing to do this afternoon, so I have to go back anyway. He's having a grand time regaling his peers with tales of the magic castle and all the vampires he knows."
"Didn't you just say..."
"He's six, Jenna. He has 'an active imagination.' By the time he's old enough that anyone would think twice about it, he'll be old enough to know not to say anything."
"How is he adapting to being here?"
"He's doing great. It's amazing how resilient kids are. Not that he ever really saw any of the bad stuff, not where he would have been, but still. You worry."
"His father?"
"Not in the picture." Andy finished off her Coke and took a sip of her water. "So, have you heard from Ric?" Andie asked, changing the subject.
"Nope. Haven't, don't want to. And don't look at me like that! All that time, all those lies he told me... Uh-uh. That ship has sailed. And sunk."
"I know, and I get it sweetie, but... you forgave me. And Elena and Jeremy."
"Yeah, well, you guys weren't telling me your vampire wife was dead while you were screwing me. And eating my ice cream."
Andie nodded sagely. "Oh, well, if he was eating your ice cream..."
"All right, okay, so maybe it doesn't make sense." Jenna crossed her arms, shrugging. "I'm the woman scorned. I don't have to make sense."
Andie swallowed some more water. "And this has nothing to do with a certain handsome, classy, erudite... you know," she finished, as a group of ladies passed behind Jenna on their way to their table.
"Elijah? No. It has nothing to do with him." Andie just sat back and gave her a 'bitch, please!' look. "It doesn't! Oh, shut up."
The waitress brought their desserts over. Jenna's sundae consisted of three large scoops of ice cream, a huge brownie, whipped cream, and enough hot fudge to float a small boat. "I think I just had an orgasm," Andie said, looking it over.
"Chocolate therapy," the waitress agreed, leaving their checks with them.
"Speaking of orgasms," Andie said, lowering her voice as the waitress disappeared, "how about the vamp sex? Pretty amazing, huh?"
Jenna blushed. "I wouldn't know," she said, taking her first bite of hot brownie and fudge. She groaned a little. "I may need a little private time after this sundae, though."
"Really?" Andie said, pausing with a bite of her shortcake halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised. "You two haven't...?"
"No."
Andie ate the bite and licked a dab of whipped cream off of her finger. "Why not? It's amazing."
"Yeah, I could tell that, what with all the scarves you were wearing and the acting all brain-melty and stuff."
"That's different. I had to let Damon think I was compelled." She stabbed a big piece of strawberry and ate it. "And let me tell you, biting aside? Best. Sex. Ever. Oh my god, I can't even... Just, wow."
"Isn't that sorta... necrophilia?"
"If it is, it lends a whole new meaning to 'being a stiff.'" Andie set her fork down and moved the plate aside so she could lean across the table, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard. "You know that super vamp speed thing they can do? It's not just for running, if you know what I mean. They can do it with just certain parts of the body. Fingers, tongues..."
"I get the point," Jenna told her, turning beet red. "And I'll take your word for it," she decided, taking a big spoonful of fudge sauce. Great. As if she needed another reason to have to try not to think about sex every time she was anywhere near Elijah.
Andie pulled her dessert back toward her. "Does that bother you? I mean, do you actually think of him as being dead?"
"Yes. No. I don't know!" She spooned up more fudge and brownie. "It's not like I've even seen that much of him, anyway. He's hardly been around. He's been busy with... stuff. Business stuff." Jenna dug through the whipped cream until she found the cherry and popped it into her mouth. "Besides, I don't even know if he's going to hang around here for much longer. I would think he'd go back to... wherever he came from."
"But you like him, right?"
"Yeah," Jenna sighed, swirling a gob of rapidly melting ice cream through the fudge. "Maybe I should just take a 'guy-atus.' Focus on school and stop thinking about men for a while."
Andie chuckled. "Yeah. Let me know how that works out for ya."
Jenna looked up in time to see Elena and Caroline head into the restaurant. She waved and caught the girls' attention.
"I'm serious. I'm kind of like the queen of bad relationships. I get all gaga over a guy, I let that take over my life, I get dumped, I plunge headlong into depression..." She shrugged. "Maybe I need some time for myself. At least take time to get over the last guy. I really thought that Ric and I had a shot at something. Elijah can't just take Ric's place."
"Hey guys," Andie greeted the girls as they approached the table.
"Hi! Oh wow, that looks amazing," Caroline said, eyeballing the sundae.
"Grab those place settings off that table there and help me eat this thing," Jenna told them. "I'm going to make myself sick on it." She moved her bag off of the chair beside her and set it at her feet. "Where's Jeremy?"
"He went to the hospital to sit with Bonnie for a while. We're going to go over a little later."
Jenna nodded. She wished there were something she could do for Jeremy. There wasn't, and she knew it, but she hated to see him hurting. He'd had so much loss in his young life. As had Elena, who had been beating herself up over Bonnie's condition ever since the ritual had left her comatose.
So," Elena said, taking one spoon for herself and handing the other to Caroline. "We have a new history teacher. Guess who?"
"Who?"
Elena dug into the brownie. "Elijah."
"And he is going to be a total hard-ass, too!" Caroline lamented around the ice cream she'd just stuffed into her mouth. "We have a paper due at the end of the week. The end of the week!"
Andie smiled across the table at Jenna. "You were saying?"
She spooned up another bite of brownie. Suddenly, she didn't think that chocolate therapy was going to be quite enough.
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