Dean stares at me, panting, wild-eyed, and manic, before shutting the door, looking for the lock and cursing silently when the key isn’t there.
“Dean, what - ” I start to ask what he’s doing here, wondering if he’s changed his mind, with a split second to wonder how I feel about that, before he grabs my arms, looking me up and down frantically. Seeming satisfied, he turns and tips a bookcase over, blocking the door and sending dozens of hardbacks thudding to the ground in a cascade.
“What are you doing?!” He claps his hand over my mouth. He’s still panting with exertion and pouring with sweat. Oh, god. He’s having an episode.
Cursing myself for not finding out everything I could from Eli about how to help him when I had the chance, I go very still. He needs calm and quiet right now. Maybe I can talk him around. It’s all I can do.
I try to say his name from behind his hand, but he puts his other hand to his lips, urging me to be quiet, which I do, watching his reactions carefully. Trying to anticipate what he’s thinking.
He searches the room, eyes lighting up when he sees my desk. He pulls me none too gently to it and pushes me under, joining me immediately and putting his hand back over my mouth. I breathe through my nostrils and watch him carefully. He’s listening for something, eyes darting around like he’s looking for something as well.
There’s banging on the door. “Professor O’Brien?” It sounds like Jake, one of the department administrators. “What’s going on in there? Are you OK?” He knocks again.
A jolt ran through Dean at the first knock, and he scrambles until he’s pushed me right against the back of the desk, as far as I can go, lying lengthways against it.
And then…
I’m in his arms. He holds me close, making my chest fizz with excitement and longing, his body mirroring mine exactly while my back is pressed against the backboard. His eyes soften, an odd calm coming over him, and he traces my face with his fingers like I’m infinitely precious. It’s tender. It’s loving. It’s…
Oh, holy shit.
The starting pistol…
Dean is body shielding me. He’s covering me to protect me from the bullets he thinks are coming by making sure he takes them instead. He thinks we’re under attack, and he’s preparing to die to save me.
My eyes fill with tears, and he smiles beatifically.It’s OK, he mouths, kissing me on the forehead. There’s such love and reassurance in his face as he gazes at me.
Another voice calls through the blocked door.
“Liaden?” It’s Lynne, the head of my department, and she sounds worried. “Liaden, can you hear me?”
“Dean,” I whisper, “it’s OK. It’s not a mass shooting, I promise. Ipromise.” He just smiles at me, and I don’t think he’s registering my words. Just listening to the sound of my voice while he still can.
“That’s my boss,” I say. “She’s out there, and she’s safe, and so are we. Nothing is going to happen. It was just a starting pistol. I have an email from campus security. Just a starting pistol. No shooters. No-one was hurt. I swear to you. You can trust me.” His focus is on my lips. “Dean…do you trust me?”
Long seconds pass, with more people knocking on my door, shouting for me. God knows what they think. They’ll probably break down the door before much longer. It’ll frighten him. I need him to come back to the here and now, and fast. “Do you trust me?” I ask again, and he slowly nods.
I look into his eyes, and clarity is starting to return to them. “Come back to me, darling,” I murmur, pleading, not sure if I just mean right now. “You’re safe. I’m here. Come back to me.”
Slowly, very slowly, he releases me, and I crawl out from under the desk. “I’m fine,” I call out, “but can you please get a medic?” Dean is waxy, white, and shivering. He needs help, once and for all.
I know what I have to do. What we all need to do for him once he’s home.
It turnedout that my boss’s son suffered with PTSD after a tour of duty in Iraq, so Lynne was really kind and helpful. Campus security had already been called, and they were obviously unsure what to do, but they were good people, and gave Dean one of their coats to keep him warm. While they were looking after him, I called Eli. I had to do it one handed, as Dean was clutching onto my other one like it was keeping him from drowning, but thankfully Eli’s now on his way. Sadie had already left him a voicemail after Dean ran hell for leather out of Wishbone to the university, as he and Emily were on another wedding admin mission, but he didn’t get it until a few minutes ago, and the Wishbone gang have been trying to track him down ever since.
Dean’s settled more, and is definitely back in the here and now, but he’s pacing back and forth in front of me, still holding onto my hand, shaking head to toe. It’s not lost on me how much it cost him to come here. He thought there was an active shooter where I worked, and, in spite of his past, he didn’t hesitate. He ran straight in, found me, and did everything he could to protect me, even willing to shield me from bullets with his own body.
I’m just barely holding it together here.
Lynne’s always been an amazing boss, but today she’s earned my undying gratitude. Organised everything and got things done without fuss, even though this is completely out of left field. My personal life has invaded my professional environment, and she didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. I’m going to learn how to make fruit baskets and give her one, or something, I don’t know.Something. I can’t think right now.
My phone rings. “Eli?”
“Hi, which building?”
“The Goldsmid Building. Third floor. British third, not American.”
“Be there in two.”
