The Time of Change

Eight Years Later

The students chatter noisily in their desks, swapping Christmastime plans with a contagious fervor. All the teachers are thrilled with the fact that today is the last day before the holidays. Earlier there was something like a party in the teachers' lounge, consisting of the gym coach splurging on three dozen donuts and a hot chocolate for everyone. I just sort of listened and nodded as they celebrated the end of the midterm. I had hoped, when I was younger, that my demure would deteriorate during college. When that didn't happen, I moved my dream to my career changing me. Neither worked. I chose to apply to work at this school, the one I attended, in the hopes of strengthening my resolve to make myself more confident. Still nothing in that area. Although, I can't say I haven't grown at all. I can speak in front of people now - as that is a rather imperative part of teaching - , but I still can't hold up a conversation one-on-one with anyone for very long. Whoever I'm speaking with tends to get the feeling that I have trouble talking to others and kind of backs off. Not that I mind all that much. It's far better to be alone. Nobody can hurt you.

I've been alone for quite some time now.

Hunter and I haven't spoken since the night after he and I had our very public argument. He came to my house later that next evening, around eleven o'clock. At first I didn't know it was him. I was getting ready for bed when I heard a knock on my front door that sounded different from the pouring rain outside. So, in my tank-top and shorts, I started off toward the door. I was still exceptionally upset about the Doctor leaving either the night before or really early that morning. I still don't know which. Either way, I was thinking about him as I made my way over to the door, and I had a sudden thought. A pining, of sorts. What if he's come back for me? I was filled with exultation at this notion, ignoring the fact that I had not heard the TARDIS and knew, deep down, that I'd be able to hear it anywhere, anytime. I had turned to put on a better choice of clothes, but the pounding on the door just got louder, more persistent. Sighing, I let my hair out of the messy ponytail it was in and shook it out quickly. I opened the door, and, full in the face, got blasted with about ten gallons of rainwater.

I couldn't see a thing through the downpour. My glasses were smudging as I tried to wipe them off with my fingers, and my wet hair hung, string-like, in my eyes. "Hello?" I called into the dense black and the precipitation, not exactly sure if I'd hear the response or not. I stood for a few more seconds, drenched to the bone, my hand on the closed door's knob behind me. I turned to go back inside, but all at once the rain stopped. I spun around to see what had caused it. And there he was, his back to the rain and his face to me, kind of pale but very disconcerted and flustered.

"Hunter?" I said, astonished. "What are you - why...? I don't... what?" Coherency was never a strong suit of mine, but he understood that I was just as shocked to see him there as he seemed to be. He glanced around nervously for a few seconds and didn't respond to anything I said. I was slowly recovering from the surprise, and impatience was replacing it. Impatience and irritation. I didn't want him there, not after what he'd done to me. I was so angry, I realized. Angrier than I'd ever been with him. Which was irrational, of course, but I didn't want to admit that.

"If you're just gonna stand there and not say anything," I told him coldly, "then go home." Hunter finally met my eye. There was so much heartache in his gaze that it shut me up immediately. My mind ran through every bad thing that could happen, each of the worst case scenarios. His sister's hurt. His sister's sick. His mum is hurt, sick or got in an accident. His grandmother died. His sister got in an accident. His step-dad's plane from Dallas crashed. His birthfather is hurt or sick. He himself is sick. He got into an accident or saw one or heard about one. Thankfully he didn't say any of this.

What he actually said shook me to my core.

"I just wanted to apologize," he replied quietly. I sat back on the balls of my feet, leaning on the door behind me. The rain settled down around him, no longer causing his clothes and hair to fly furiously toward me. It was almost as if nature wanted to be part of this, too. A turning point was ensuing - not that either of us knew it.