She was a beautiful girl. Maybe he was biased; he had practically raised her in his way. But he'd been around a long, long time, he thought he could apply some distance to the situation. She wasn't going to be on the cover of any magazines he could admit, but she had a narrow face, long proud nose and, a high intelligent forehead. She might look stiff to some but not to Kincaid. To him she looked like a very smart, intelligent young woman with a fondness for cats and the ability to let down her leonine blonde hair and draw some truly gorgeous oil pastels. That wasn't so much of an assessment of her appearance as it was of her personality but to him it mattered just the same. Because he saw her loosed hair, her sever buns seemed only a professional courtesy and not a permanent fixture. Because he could remember her pouncing on that giant cat in Dresden's living room he could see her excitement whenever brightened her eyes. Because he'd bought her happy meals and seen the grins she used to pull even as she explained their poor nutritional value, he could recognize her small half smiles.

He was getting away from himself point was she was a good kid, a striking young woman and that Smyth guy trying to see down her shirt didn't deserve her.

The elegant mahogany corner office had been hers for the past two months and would be for the next four. Change he figured was a woman's prerogative (not that he could really think of her as a woman). Besides the Archive couldn't show too much favoritism to any one place. It was safer for all involved, himself included, if they didn't put down roots.

In their current London office there was this cocky sod, to use the local dialect, who brought the reports every day. Jessie Smyth was his name and he was a paralegal studying for his law degree. From the time it took Smyth to rake his eyes over her he'd been pulling all the moves in the book. He smiled a little too broadly, like he had something to hide behind that smile. He brought her coffee even though he knew she already had some. He stood too close and tried to edge between her and Kincaid, like he was the one taking up space uninvited and not that twat Smyth.

She for her part hadn't even seemed to notice. She'd wave him away if he lingered too long or sometimes if she was involved in a project she wouldn't even notice him. Mostly she just nodded and gave him curt 'thank you's. Today she had smiled warmly, and touched his arm, and laughed at some of his dumb jokes. She had never flirted in her life as far as he knew and he had liked it that way. Kincaid liked to think she was still that teenager blushing and staring at her shoes when Warden Ramirez winked at her.

Once they got back in the office, she settled demurely behind the desk, him standing beside the closed door, without even blinking he asked, "Him?"

She didn't look up, "I don't know what you mean Mr. Kincaid." He raised an eyebrow. She huffed, "Why not him? He is of middling to high intelligence, he has fine bone structure, and he has no family history of mental illness. And he has clearly shone his interest."

"Do you like him?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Don't make me say it Kid." he almost groaned but as the Hellhound he tried very hard not to. "Do you have romantic . . . feelings for this Smyth character?"

She didn't look away and that was all the answer he really needed but she said, "Not as such but I could theoretically develop feelings of 'that' nature."

"Kid, do me a favor, don't do this."

She stamped her foot under the desk. "I have a name, it's-"

"Ivy, I know."

"Ivy Kincaid." She growled. "But even so you don't make choices for me. This is my life as much as the council would prefer it otherwise."

"Now Kid – Ivy – That's not what I mean. I mean, God Kid, don't go throwing yourself at the first moron too dumb to be intimidated."

Ivy stood stock still and the silence began eating up all the air in the room. Just as Kincaid began wondering which spell she might throw she did something even more radical. She laughed. He hadn't heard her laugh in a month and he had to admit it was good to see it. "I'm sorry Mr. Kincaid," she chuckled behind her hand, "I'm sorry, but this, this is right out of some terrible scripted drama."

The Hellhound almost smiled. "Kid," it was too much to watch his girl giggling, he smiled. "Why are you really wasting time on Smyth anyway?"

She sobered but she didn't strike him as angry anymore and if anyone could read her moods it was him. "My grandmother was a mother before she was the Archive; my mother was pregnant before she took the mantel. I – there is no record of an active Archive finding a mate. I am the last Archive; the line mustn't end with me."

He eyed his charge suspiciously, "There are other ways to have a baby, Kid. But you know that right."

Now she was bashful, sitting down and shuffling the charts and spreadsheets in her hands. She mumbled something into her chest.

"Eh?"

"I am twenty-three years old and have never been kissed." She said and immediately snapped her mouth closed again.

"So," he tried, "you want a boyfriend?"

"Yes, Mr. Kincaid. I find it very uncomfortable to talk with you about this."

Kincaid walked over to her, deserting his post on the door. "Me too Kid, me too." He sucked a breath in over his teeth. "Look, I'll, I'll lay off the idiots if you promise to only . . . mess with the ones you actually like. Not Smyth."

"No. Not Mr. Smyth. He did leer rather a lot didn't he?" She squeezed his hand, "Thank you Mr. Kincaid."

Though she smiled up at him, years of experience showed him the doubt hidden behind it. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You'll be fine. You're a beautiful girl, Ivy."

AN: It's been a long time since I've reread this series so I appologies for any OOCness, particularly on the part of Kincaid. Thank you for reading.