When We Last Met
chapter eleven

Graham had been staring at nothing, glumly, for the
better part of an
hour.  Classes and check-in were over, and the marines
had the rest of
the afternoon to themselves until dinner and patrols.
All morning
he'd gone through the motions expected of him, as a
graduate student
and a soldier, and he was pretty sure no one really
noticed that he
hadn't quite been paying as much attention as he could
have.

He had a problem, and he wasn't sure what to do about
it.   It wasn't
the sort of thing he could ask his buddies about, nor
could he request
a private meeting with any of his superiors - even
though his problem
impacted them all, and they needed to know about it.

That was sort of exactly the problem.  He couldn't
even ask Riley or
Forrest to meet him someplace private for an
unofficial,
off-the-record meeting.  He wished he could talk to
Xander....

But that was the rest of the problem.  Xander.

Just who the hell was he?  How did he know things he
wasn't supposed
to know?

Graham had been worrying about it since yesterday
morning, when Xander
had stammered a question that normally would have been
adorable, and
would have had Graham saying 'yes' to everything
Xander was asking.
Except what Xander was asking, he didn't know.  He
couldn't know, so
what had gone wrong to make Xander ask a guy who was
supposed to be a
civilian graduate student, to wear his Marine uniform
sometime?

Graham knew he was lousy at Covert Ops.  'Lousy' when
compared to the
rest of the guys in his outfit - not so lousy when it
came to fooling
the general public.  You didn't get tapped for a
project like the
Initiative if you tended to spill your beans to the
first pretty face
you saw.  Admittedly, most Marines didn't have to
dress up in jeans
and tshirts and pretend that getting a Master's
project approved was
the most important item on the agenda -- which
reminded him, he had to
get Professor Macey to sign his proposal.

But despite the added complication of keeping quiet
about his duties,
Graham knew he hadn't told Xander anything he
shouldn't have.  He'd
never mentioned the military at all, except for the
Air Force and god
knew there were enough jokes there to keep a man busy
and away from
the topic of the Marine Corp.  He didn't have anything
in his room, or
anywhere in all of Lowell House that gave any
indication that he was a
soldier - none of the guys did.  They had regular
inspections for just
that purpose, and he'd have heard long before now if
there was
anything incriminating in his room.

Besides which, Xander hadn't spent much time in his
room.  Other than
parties in the Lowell House common rooms, he and
Xander spent most of
their time in Xander's basement...in the bed, or
hanging out together
someplace public.  As little as Graham talked, he was
reasonably
certain he could recall accurately that he had never
said anything
Marine-like.  No code words, no 'gotta be a grunt to
get the joke',
not even a slip of the 'sir' that couldn't be
explained away as
politeness.

The only possibility was that he'd talked in his
sleep.  It was the
only *real* possibility, because the other explanation
was that Xander
knew because someone *else* had told him.  Someone
like a snitch,
weaseling his way into a free lunch from the reporter
he was giving a
scoop to.  Someone like an agent, sent in by another
branch of the
government who wanted to know what was going on in
that project nobody
knew about.  Someone like a demon, disguised as a
human to get the
low-down, before launching an all-out attack.

Graham was hoping he talked in his sleep.  Even if it
would be for the
first time in his life.

When he'd first decided to accept Xander's offer of a
real, actual,
let's get together date, he knew that someone in the
Initiative had
already done a background check.  A standard check on
Buffy Summers,
her family, and friends had been done when Riley first
started dating
her.  She and all her friends had passed, and
according to the agents
who'd done the checks, there was nothing too bizarre
in their files if
you ignored a penchant for blowing up high schools.
Graham remembered
high school, and couldn't really blame them.

He didn't know if anyone knew how much time he was
spending with
Xander, and if that had prompted anyone to do a
second, deeper
background check on him.  Graham was pretty sure no
one knew *what* he
was doing, because no one had called him in for a
don't ask, don't
tell, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out'
little talk.
But no one had told him to keep away from the guy
because he seemed a
little weird, and no one had told him to spend *more*
time with him
and find out all he could.

So either no one suspected him, or he was really,
really, good.

Or Graham talked in his sleep.  He was still hoping
for that one.

He knew, though, that he was going to have to tell
someone, soon.  The
longer he kept this quiet, the more likely the
military would decide
that he was guilty.  No matter what they discovered,
failure to report
would be dereliction of duty.

Only, no matter what it turned out to be, the best bet
was that he and
Xander would no longer be friends.  Either Xander was
a bad guy, or
he'd be pissed off that Graham had turned him in...or
any of a half
dozen other permutations that ended up with Xander
hating his guts and
never speaking to him again.

If Xander was one of the bad guys, that shouldn't be a
bad thing.  But
Graham didn't want Xander to be one of the bad guys.
He wanted Xander
to be a good guy, a see-him-every-day guy...a sleep
with him every
chance they got, guy.  He liked Xander, liked him a
lot.  Liked him
enough that he was beginning to think that if he
hadn't had this
problem arise, he'd have had another, equally
potentially serious one:
how to keep Xander around, when there was so little of
his life Graham
could offer him.

He'd been thinking he could ask Riley about that one,
at least.  He
didn't know if Ri had any answers, but they could at
least get drunk
together and commiserate. But the question was
irrelevant, now.
Unfortunately.

A quick glance at the clock told him that if he kept
this up, he'd
succeed in sitting in his room brooding for another
two hours until
dinner.  That wasn't really the way to convince anyone
that there was
nothing wrong.  With a resigned - and suppressed -
sign, he picked up
his jacket and headed out.  He could sit at a coffee
shop and pretend
to read, and no one would be the wiser.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

"Hey!  Are you waiting for Xander?"

Graham looked up, and smiled when he saw Buffy.  He
nodded when she
made a move towards the chair beside his, and she sat
down.  "Hi.  Um,
no, I'm not.  Just reading."  He couldn't remember
which book he'd
grabbed to fake it with - it wasn't like he'd seen any
of the words
he'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

She peered at the cover, and frowned.  "A Survey of
the History of
Geological Structures of North America.  Gee, I hope
that's for a
class."

Graham grinned.  "Um, yeah.  Sort of."  He set it
down, hoping she
didn't ask him anything about it - and reminded
himself not to pick up
any of Forrest's books, again.  He waited for Buffy to
continue the
conversation, then realised she was waiting for *him*.
"Um, you
meeting Riley?"

"Nah.  He's got something school-related to do.  I'm
supposed to be
studying, so I figured - what better place to study,
than a coffee
shop that serves biscotti and huge muffins?"

"Yeah.  That's...what I thought."  Nevermind that
there was only a
single cup of coffee in front of him, which he'd
barely touched.

"I'm going to get a mocha, and chocolate chip
cranberry muffin.  Want
anything?"  She'd popped up again, leaving her bookbag
on the table.
Graham shook his head, and spent the time she was in
line trying to
think of what else he could say to her.  He'd never
really had a
conversation with Buffy, before.  About her, yes.  He
*knew* he
couldn't repeat any of those comments to her, though.
Not that they'd
been mean, but he didn't know her well enough to tease
her about
making her boyfriend walk into walls.

Talking to guys was so much easier.  Whether they were
strangers, or
the guy he was waking up next to, there was never any
doubt about what
he could say - but even better was that there was
never any doubt
about whether he should be saying anything at all.
Guys did the grunt
and point method of communication so much better.  It
was a heck of a
lot easier than trying to say 'how's the weather?' and
sound like you
meant it intelligibly.

He hadn't thought of anything to say by the time Buffy
returned.  She
set her coffee and food down, dragged a book out, and
proceeded to
ignore them.  "I didn't know you were into geology.
Aren't you
getting a degree in math?"

"It's to supplement a seminar on geostatistics,"
Graham said smoothly.
He had no idea where that comment had come from.
Hopefully it was
enough, because he also had no idea what to say next.

Luckily, Buffy was blinking at him.  "Oh.
Geostatistics?  This
is..math, I'm guessing?"

"It's math," Graham replied, nodding.

"Ah.  I know math.  I know math like algebra and
geometry.  I'm even
taking a math class next semester.  Maybe.  Do they
offer any easy
ones?"

"Calc five is easy."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him.  "Willow says that.  I
don't believe
her, either."

Graham just shrugged.  It had occurred to him that he
might have
something he could ask her, if he could just get up
the courage to do
so, and risk fielding awkward questions of 'why do you
want to know?'
He spent a few more minutes talking about undergrad
math courses and
math professors, hoping he didn't sound like a
complete dork.  It
shouldn't matter, Buffy was just his friend's
girlfriend, as well as
his boyfriend's friend...his head was starting to
hurt.

When the conversation hit a lull, he told himself now
or never.  Even
if knowing meant he was no closer to solving his
problem....  "Hey,
Buffy.  Um.  How long have you known Xander?"

"About four years.  Why?  You already at the 'what do
I buy him for
his birthday' stage?  Because he lied - his birthday
was three months
ago."

"Huh?"

"Did he tell you he had a birthday coming up and he
wants you to take
him to dinner?"

"Uh...no." Graham was suddenly understanding some of
Riley's comments
about conversations with Buffy.

"Oh.  Why?"

"Why...oh.  I was just...wondering.  About...stuff."
OK, so he hadn't
thought out his line of questioning this far.  He
couldn't just come
out and ask 'is he a demon?' - and not only because
Buffy would laugh
at him for thinking demons were real.

"Stuff?  Childhood stuff?  I know some stuff, but you
can always ask
Willow.  She's known him all her life - they shared
diaper bags.  Or
so Willow's mom says.  Willow and Xander always turn
kinda red when
she says it, so I'm guessing it's true."

"Oh."  That was good, right?  Did baby demons wear
diapers?

"Willow knows all there is to know about Xander.
Well...maybe not
*everything*.  But you could ask her.  Or ask me, and
I'll ask her."

"I was just...wondering.  About how he grew up.  If
he'd always lived
in Sunnydale."  Graham had no illusions about why he'd
got a 'D' in
Covert Ops.  All he needed now was for Willow to show
up, and Buffy
would tell her to ask his questions....

Buffy's face darkened, a little.  Graham sat up,
trying not to appear
as suddenly interested as he was.  "Yeah, I guess if
you've spent any
time at Xander's house, you probably heard stuff.
They've never
really done anything - that I know of.  His folks get
drunk and get
loud, and sometimes when his mom is drunk she kinda
forgets that she
has a kid, you know?  But I asked Willow, and she says
that's as bad
as it ever got.  I think she would have kidnapped him,
otherwise, so I
figure she's right.  Doesn't make it any easier to
listen to, though."
She brightened, suddenly.  "Why don't you just hang
out at Lowell
House?"

"Um, I...the guys don't really...Ri knows, and
Forrest, my roommate.
But-"

"Ah.  Say no more.  I suppose you could rent a
room...."  She winked.
"But if you just want someplace to hang out, you're
welcome to stop by
Willow's and my dorm room.  We like cute guy company.
Or there's
Giles' place.  We hang out there all the time-"  She
stopped, and for
some reason looked like she wished she could take back
what she'd just
said, or been about to say.

"Thanks.  I...it isn't a problem, really.  I was just
wondering."   He
didn't actually know what Buffy was talking about.
Xander's parents
were almost never awake, or home, when he was visiting
Xander.  It
wasn't difficult to figure out, though.  He felt an
inexplicable urge
to go find Xander, and drag him out of that basement,
and put him up
in an apartment somewhere.  Take him home and keep him
under the bed.
In the bed, rather, except then of course everyone
would know....

"So was that what you wanted to know?"  Buffy
interrupted his musings.
Probably a good thing, since they were all going
towards the 'Xander
in bed' area of his brain.

"Um, yeah.  Mostly."  He knew this whole conversation
was going to be
a bust - all he had to do was get out of it as best he
could, without
saying anything else that she might ask Xander about.
Tip him off, if
he was tip-off-able.  If he was up to something.  If
he
wasn't...Graham knew this was why he hadn't wanted to
have this
conversation with *anyone*.

"OK."  Buffy nodded, and finally turned her attention
to her coffee
and muffin.  For a moment, anyway, then she looked
back at him.
"Graham, can I ask you something weird?"

"Sure."  Couldn't be any weirder than his own
questions.

"Does Riley believe in monsters?"

end chapter eleven