Note: This is a sister piece to "Rumors" which is much more comical than this. You don't have to read the other one to understand, but I reused some of the same students.

Tracy looked over the revision for her paper over and over again. She read the newly formed sentences out loud making sure to use proper annunciation. All the commas were now in the right place, the thesis statement was stronger, and there was a conclusion longer than a sentence. It was just what Professor Collins had asked for. She sighed and dropped the paper to her desk. One B+ wasn't the end of the world. It was better than she was doing in her biology class anyway.

"You redid it?" Owen asked leaning over to look at the finished result. The frat boy was happy to finish his own paper the first time around. Or almost finish it. Owen had handed in a three-page paper…for the ten-page assignment. And for Owen, it was an improvement.

"Yeah." Tracy said tilting away from him slightly, "It was easy enough. Just looked at what Professor Collins wanted and I fixed what he wrote about. It wasn't too hard."

Owen leaned back in his chair, "You're crazy, Trace. I wouldn't touch those editing things if my life depended on it." Tracy sighed deeply and glanced up at the clock. It was noon, and class usually started at eleven thirty.

"Where is he?" Ian asked quietly. Even though everyone was involved in their own side conversions they picked up on his question. Because it was all on their minds.

Beatrice looked at her watch and popped her gum, "He's usually fifteen minutes late…not half an hour. Maybe someone should stop by his office?" She offered looking back at the door and expecting their energetic professor to jump in at any point. Sure, everyone in the class dreaded the days he got to their papers…but the day to day classes…they were almost enjoyable.

"You don't think he's sick do you?" Anthony asked chewing on his pen, "He's been almost…normal lately." Their professor was always humming or singing…sometimes even dancing as he entered the classroom. His lectures would overflow with emotion and passion. But starting last week his hum was a little bit quieter and his lecture a little less fervent.

"Do you think…" Tracy finished her sentence under her breath.

"Huh?" Owen asked raising his brow, "Do you think what?"

Tracy shifted in her seat, it wasn't exactly a politically correct assumption, "You think he has…AIDS? And maybe he's sick...so he can't come to class."

"What the gay plague?" Beatrice asked looking back at Tracy, "I know he's gay but…not all of them have it."

Ian rolled his eyes slipping down into his chair, "Just because he's gay doesn't mean he has AIDS…maybe…maybe he lost his papers or…is taking a day off."

"He leaves signs on the door." Anthony pointed out flipping his pen between his fingers, "He always tells us when he's gonna be later…no something's wrong."

Tracy looked down at her paper, wondering if she would be able to hand it in. All that work for nothing…no. She couldn't think like that. Tracy pushed an unruly piece of red hair back behind her ear, "You know…that's horrible to assume. That there's something wrong. Maybe he just…slept in."

"I for one am happy." Owen said putting his feet up on the desk in front of him, "I didn't do the reading for today. And the prof always knows."

"That's because you never do the reading." Beatrice said with a smirk.

Owen shrugged pulling his baseball cap over his eyes, "He still always knows."

Tracy bit her lip and looked back at the door again, "I don't know…aren't we allowed to leave after half an hour?" Owen pulled his hat up apparently excited by the idea.

"But he told us on the first day that he never misses classes." Ian said looking back at everyone, "We shouldn't leave…he's just late." He turned back to look at the chalkboard. Usually Collins came in early and would write a few notes for himself on the board. His students always tried to make sense of their professor's early morning ranting but it seemed impossible. Beatrice, a math major, was convinced it was equations that he wrote. Anthony, the literature major, was sure it was a passage from an Edward Taylor poem. Ian, the visual arts major, thought it might be a reference to a painting. No matter what the consensus was, the professor always laughed off their ideas and never bothered to tell them what it was. He would erase them and start class with his booming voice taking over every student's attention. Today, however, there was no notes or scribbles. The board was blank.

"Maybe we should…look in his office?" Beatrice repeated, "It's only a few hallway-"

The door opened and Collins trudged through, "Sorry guys." He practically whispered reaching the front of the classroom. The first thing that he did was reach for the eraser, but then he paused. With a hesitant nod he pulled his hand back slowly and opened his beaten up leather bag.

Tracy sat up in her seat and glanced over at Owen. Even the lazy kid was watching the professor with concern. There was no hum, no dance, nothing. And he seemed…nervous? Tracy cleared her throat and made her way to the front of the class. When she stood right next to him, he didn't seem to notice her. Collins' hands shook as he counted handouts. "Professor…" She murmured noticing the deep bags under his eyes, "I did the corrections. For the paper."

Collins looked up at her, his eyes were puffy and raw, "Oh. Of course. Thanks." He took the paper from her and placed it carefully on his desk. Tracy struggled for what she could say…if she could say anything. The school was strict about Professors keeping their private life to themselves. But…whenever one of the students had problems…needed to bitch about one class or another…Professor Collins was always all ears. Perhaps they should do the same for once. Tracy opened her mouth but Ian beat her to the punch, "Are you ok, Professor?"

It was obvious he wasn't. Collins' eyes scanned his class then dropped down to his handouts once again, "Thank you, Tracy you can take a seat now." Tracy wanted to shake him, force his problems into the light. But she knew she couldn't. She sat back down and stared at the notebook in front of her.

"Ok." Collins said with a deep breath, "I'm going to assign some of the work ahead of time…I know I like to fly by the seat of my pants but…that might not be so smart anymore." He explained with a forced smile. "You'll have to read chapters seven and eight." Collins wrote down the chapter numbers along with the due dates on the board, "These dates may be in flux but they should stay that way. And start focusing on a paper. Something dealing with those two chapters and the one we just read."

The students were silent. The normal another-damn-paper groans were absent. All Collins could hear was the scratch of their mechanical pencils on the paper.

A woman appeared in the back of the classroom her eyes on Collins. "Why don't you leave, Tom? I can take over until you return." She called out to him. The students all turned around to face her.

Collins' eyes focused on his co-worker, Dr. Lipson. She was an older woman, wrinkles carved into her face, but she had a gentle way about her, "Carol…I don't know when I'll be back…" He replied exhaustion creeping into his voice.

Dr. Lipson shook her head while walking towards the front of the class, "Take all of the time you need. I have this period off and I have nothing to do."

"Bull shit." Collins muttered knowing that no professor had free time, "You got like fifty pages of work-"

"No." Dr. Lipson whispered holding up her hand, "Go." She pushed him gently, "Be with him."

Collins' eyes filled with tears for a moment, but then he managed to hone them back, "Thank you…they'll…fill you in." He said motioning to his students. They all watched him slowly gather his materials. "I'll…uh…behave for her ok?" Collins asked everyone, "She won't put up with your shit like I do." He winked at them, letting a bit of his old self shine through his current state.

Tracy smiled gently, maybe he would be ok. When the door closed all of the students faced back at Dr. Lipson. Owen leaned over to Tracy, "I heard she's even harder than Professor-"

Ian raised his hand, "Dr. Lipson?" He continued on before the woman could call on him, "What's happened to Professor Collins?" Tracy held her breath while Anthony bit harder on his pen. Beatrice leaned forward in her seat wondering if she would actually tell them.

"I don't…" Dr. Lipson cleared her throat, "I'm sorry I can't give out that information."

"But…" Tracy said sitting up further in her chair, "He's…important to us."

Beatrice nodded enthusiastically to the woman, "We won't go spread it around or anything. We just wanna know he'll be ok. He'll be ok…right?"

Dr. Lipson sensed the sincerity in the girls' voices. And they would find out…sooner or later they would know. "In the plainest words possible…his lover is dying. Now…where are we?" She asked switching gears suddenly.

Tracy breath hitched in her throat. That boy? The boy who…she had only seen him once but…he was so young. And so…so in love.

Anthony tapped Tracy's shoulder, "That was the guy…the guy in line that time…" He whispered and Tracy nodded. Leaning back into his seat he closed his eyes knowing that anything that Dr. Lipson taught that day wouldn't stick.

Ian ripped a piece of paper from his notebook and snapped open a box of color pencils. The rest of the students eyes were on him instead of Dr Lipson.

"Hey…Angel." Maureen smiled deeply by her friend's hospital bed, "Look what came for you." She passed on a card made out of notebook paper. Collins glanced over at the card and recognized the art right away. It was Ian's. He had drawn a picture of the classroom. Everyone was there. Beatrice blowing her gum, Owen sleeping, Tracy reading over her paper, Anthony staring up at the lights in the room, and Ian was waving happily. On the blackboard the words, "Get Well Soon" were written out.

Angel's chapped lips curled up to a grin, "That's sweet." He whispered opening the card. They had all signed their names. "You have good kids."

Collins kissed Angel's forehead and then smiled gently, "I know."