The man in the dark suit had graying hair and a calm demeanor. Lucy could smell his scent, which was a blend of suit wool and Old Spice. She could also tell that he'd had eggs for breakfast, along with coffee—two sugars, no cream—and that while he was a little wary at being here, he wasn't scared.

That was interesting, and she kept her gaze on him as he stood when she entered the study. Charles made the introductions.

"Doctor San Marcos, this is Special Agent Luke Ramsey from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He's here to talk to you about certain matters pertaining to your arrival here," came the calm statement.

She nodded, and took a seat in one of the club chairs after shaking hands briefly with the man. Special Agent Ramsey gave her a nod and sat in one of the other chairs, his manner genuinely relaxed. He sighed. "Okay, I'd like to know exactly why you left Mesa Medical, Doctor San Marcos."

"I got a better offer," Lucy told him mildly. It was true; Hank had pretty much outlined what she was doing right now.

Special Agent Ramsey gave a shrug. "All this after one dinner with Doctor McCoy?"

"He can be very persuasive," Lucy shot back, "and clearly there was a need here at the school for a qualified physician."

"Not arguing that," Special Agent Ramsey nodded. "I'm just a little surprised that you'd literally drop everything to take the job. Not many professionals relocate overnight. Seems . . . hasty."

"And exactly how would you *know* this?" Lucy replied, fighting to keep her tone level. "I'm a private citizen and I haven't broken any laws."

The agent nodded, his gaze slightly sharper. "Yes you are, and so far, no, you haven't broken any laws. But your actions on behalf of certain underage patients have been under surveillance for a while now."

"You've been tailing me."

"Not precisely. We've been tailing . . ." Special Agent Ramsey held out a glossy photograph. "This guy. And he's been tailing *you.*"

"What?" Lost, Lucy stared at the photo, which showed a thin, young man with nondescript features and a dour expression.

Agent Ramsey gave a reluctant smile. "Don't recognize him?"

"No," Lucy admitted.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. He doesn't have a smell. No scent, no body odor at all. Now I know that your particular mutant gene has you primarily identifying people through scent. This guy—he's an empty page in that department. His name's Doby Minotros, but he goes by the name Blank."

"He's with the Brotherhood," Charles broke in softly to help clear some of the confusion, "And apparently has been on your trail for the last two years, Lucy."

"You mean . . . I've been watched by the Feds AND the bad guys?" She bit back a laugh. "Oh that's just *great!* I feel SO much better now!"

"You shouldn't," Special Agent Ramsey sighed. "The Brotherhood clearly knew about your ability AND where you were working. I wouldn't have put it past them to have tried to nab you *or* some of your patients in that time."

"So what were YOU doing watching me?" Lucy demanded restlessly. "And what were you watching my watcher for?"

Special Agent Ramsey drew in a deep breath, and shot a look at Charles. Receiving a nod, he turned to Lucy and let the breath out. "Hoo-boy, this is going to get complicated, but let me see if I can lay it out in simplest terms."

"Please do," Lucy muttered dryly, crossing her arms.

Special Agent Ramsey rose up and began to pace. "Okay. The Bureau has always been mandated to keep an eye on anyone who might attempt to overthrow the government—that's one of our primary directives, and The Brotherhood of Mutants certainly qualifies. We've had several agents assigned to coordinate the incoming data on the Brotherhood, and among them were Chuck Kominsky and Barry Soto."

He passed her two more photographs; Lucy squinted at them for a moment. "Licorice and Camels," she murmured in recognition.

"Yeah. For the record. Soto was the candy eater, and Kominsky smoked. Anyway, those two were assigned to tail Minotros, who'd been identified as a Brotherhood member. And after a while they noted that Minotros was tailing YOU."

Lucy blinked.

Special Agent Ramsey went on. "Naturally this was an interesting development and they reported both his doings, and eventually yours as well. We figured out that Minotros was spying on you, but didn't make the connection to your patients until we caught him trying to talk to one of them."

"What?"

"Yeah, I guess he was trying to recruit them, or at the very least, figure out where they were going. Hell, he might have already known. I'm sure Erik Lensherr could guess you were sending them to the professor here—not many options for mutants."

"Shit," Lucy muttered, her complexion going pale. Special Agent Ramsey shook his head. "It's okay. Whatever else Minotros was, a recruiter he wasn't. Not one kid ever gave him the time of day as far as we know, and he never caught on that he was being followed himself. Not a genius level guy by any means. What we DO know, though, is that once he spotted you with Doctor McCoy, he freaked, big time."

"Is that the precise, technical description of his reaction?" Lucy snapped, trying not to laugh through her shock.

Ramsey looked like he wanted to chuckle himself and forced himself not to. "Actually it is. Soto's comment at the time was and I quote—'Blank's completely spazzing out,'—end quote. It's safe to assume that Minotros been told to report back to the Brotherhood if you ever met with any of the X-Men."

"And after that?"

His expression changed.

"After that, things got ugly. You and Doctor McCoy were tailed as far as the hotel, but before Soto and Kominsky could get up to you, they ran into . . . something. Soto ended up dead, in a dumpster, and Kominsky barely got away. We have him in a long-term care facility right now, since he doesn't have any arms or ears left. We think the two of them were taken out by more dangerous members of the Brotherhood."

"Oh God," Lucy gulped. "I'm so sorry!"

"Not your fault," Ramsey sighed. "And yeah, we all are. Kominsky was—is—a good agent."

"Why . . . ." Lucy stopped and started again, "Why are you telling us all this?"

Ramsey looked at her mildly. "Because while I'm federal agent, I'm a mutant as well."

She stared at him blankly; he gave a shrug. "Yeah. I can alter people's body temperature. Handy during interrogations. I just wanted to point out that some issues go beyond national politics, Doctor San Marcos. Erik Lensherr isn't trying to overthrow the US government--he's out to take over the entire planet."

"You have a very powerful gift, Lucy," Charles spoke up after a somber moment. "Your ability to manipulate people would be very useful to Erik, particularly against the human population. He's clever enough to know that force isn't the only tool to move the masses."

Ramsey nodded. "Precisely. He wants mutants with all sorts of exploitable talents, and believe me, yours would be a coup for him."

"I'm not *about* to work for Magneto," Lucy growled.

"Not now. But back in New Mexico, you were a loner—by preference, according to Soto and Kominsky—and if he'd grabbed you, done some torture and mind-control--" Ramsey shrugged. "You'd kept yourself pretty isolated, Doctor; it might have been a long time before you were missed by anyone."

She wanted to argue, but shivered instead, realizing for the first time that Ramsey was right. She *had* cut herself off from people and in the course of trying to avoid detection, had left herself much more vulnerable in the process.

"So . . . it's a good thing you took the job offer," Ramsey murmured, "because at least now you're a lot safer than you were. I don't know if Lensherr will try again, but if he's been watching you for years, he may."

"And that's it?" Lucy found her voice. "Just, 'good thing I took the job offer?'"

"Doctor, look where you are," Ramsey pointed out calmly. "This is the best sanctuary for a mutant in the entire country. You've been sending kids here yourself for years."

"And now I'm putting them in danger!"

"I don't think so," Charles broke in firmly. "The school is well-protected, and so are you, my dear. You are among friends, and you are needed here."

His calm tone took most of the anxiety out of her, and Lucy breathed in his serene scent, relaxing a bit. Ramsey nodded himself and cocked his head.

"Officially, we're closing the case. We have you on record as an investigative lead that didn't pan out; that's to cover our butts if this case ever gets an official review. I've been working to keep cases involving mutants under my own jurisdiction, and I'd like to work out a liaison with Doctor McCoy at some point in the future, but that's going to have to go through official channels and might take some time. Until then," Ramsey shrugged, "it's all off the books."

After the agent had left, Lucy sat with Charles a moment longer, feeling slightly overwhelmed. He rolled himself out from around his desk, and brought his chair to a halt in front of her, his smile as gentle as ever. She looked up.

"I believe," Charles told her softly. "It's time for my physical, Doctor. Come—the best cure for uncertainty is work, is it not?"

Lucy smiled.

*** *** ***

Hank wished Aggie would stop staring at him, particularly with her smug little smile. He ignored it a few moments longer, then turned to look over the top of his reading glasses at her. "Agatha," came his warning. "You are making me exceedingly uncomfortable."

"Sorry, it's just you look . . . relaxed. I'm not used to seeing you all you know . . . mellow," she pointed out. "Usually you're much more bunched up, especially over forms." She sauntered over and pretended to re-arrange the pencils in his cup. "Anything interesting happen this weekend?"

Hank sighed inwardly. He knew it would be impossible to keep his developing relationship with Lucy hidden from Agatha, but it was still too new; too uncertain to be shared.

"Doctor San Marcos gave me a physical," he offered, hoping that would satisfy Aggie's curiosity.

His secretary smirked. "Oh is *that* what you kids call it nowadays?"

Hank pushed up his sleeve to show her the bandage at the furry crook of his elbow. "Yes, it was oodles of fun to be jabbed and told to watch my cholesterol."

"Oodles?" Agatha questioned, ignoring the bandage. "Hey, you didn't get a prostate exam, did you?"

"Agatha!" Hank glared at her. "Your prurient curiosity is unbecoming."

She wasn't at all fazed by his outburst, and smiled again. "Okay, I'll stop. But you look happy, Hank, and that makes *me* happy."

He sighed noisily; Aggie had an uncanny way of saying just the right thing to coax matters out of him. "Yes, yes, I *am* happy. I'm just not ready to discuss the issue, all right?"

"Gotcha," she nodded. "Oh, your mom called; wants to know if you'd like your Christmas stuff sent here, or to Xavier's."

"Xavier's," Hank replied, and frowned. "Wait, Christmas isn't for another five weeks, right?"

"Shopping season opens this weekend, Blue," Agatha cheerily reminded him. "It's never too late to look into Chocolate of the Month Club, you know."

"I'm not even sure she likes chocolate," Hank murmured, considering.

"*All* women like chocolate," Aggie reassured him. "It's genetic; you should know that. The gene's right next to the one that makes us boss men around."

"Egad, you're right. Just on the other side of the one for terminal nosiness," he teased.

"Keep it up and you're getting coal for Christmas," Aggie warned. "Just remember who keeps your calendar running smoothly, buster."

"I consider myself warned," Hank nodded, appreciatively aware of his secretary's skills. "Nevertheless, let us get back to work and perhaps we can leave by Wednesday noon to our respective holidays. I take it you and Reuben will be celebrating together?"

"Yep. Going to his brother Raoul's place in Silver Spring. Should be fun," Agatha murmured happily. Hank was pleased; Aggie and Judge Reuben Valencia had been dating for nearly three years now, both of them cute as buttons together, though Hank was careful not to say so aloud.

"Good," he murmured, "I'm glad. Let us hope it doesn't snow."

"Knock wood," Aggie agreed. "Going out to the school for Thanksgiving?"

"Of course," Hank replied. "I need to represent the faculty during the annual football game."

"Will Doc Lucy be playing?" Aggie asked curiously.

"Yes," Hank answered, trying hard to ignore the smirk on his secretary's face.

"Woo! Have fun in the huddle," came her saucy reply before she moved off, leaving her boss to glare at her retreating back.

*** *** ***

The UPS truck arrived on late Wednesday; holiday traffic had delayed the delivery, but Lucy was glad to see several suitcases unloaded, along with her loom and pillows. A handful of students helped bring everything down to the cottage and she unpacked, wondering which of her grandfather's girlfriends had done the work. Whoever it had been did a nice job; the shoes, lingerie, makeup and clothes were all exactly the ones that Lucy needed, and she felt better seeing her things in familiar places.

It was good to have her own pillows as well; they held the scent of the desert and Lucy breathed it in, feeling a quick pang of tears for her loss. She hadn't travelled much away from the mesas and arroyos of her home state, and was still trying to make peace with the dark forest outside.

She set the pillows down, and looked to the loom, wondering if she should scrap the weaving on it altogether and start anew. The Two Hills blanket was barely a fourth finished, and Lucy wasn't sure if it was taboo or not to work on it here without a Blessing. Then she shook her head, grinning at her convoluted nature.

Lucy frowned abruptly, wondering if Hank would tease her for such a thing.

Staring at her loom, she almost didn't hear the knock at the door; starting, Lucy moved to peek out the spy hole. Blue eyes looked back at her, and she smiled, unlocking the door. Hank stood there, hands behind his back but she could smell the roses he was hiding and cocked her head at him.

"I'm sacramental, Hank—can you deal with that?"

Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, that wasn't it, and for a moment Hank looked nonplussed. "Er, excuse me?"

"Sacramental," she repeated firmly. "Not about everything, but there are a few things I practice and believe and they're probably not going to change, like Blessings and purification rites. You have to tell me if it's going to be a problem. Oh, and thank you for the roses."

"You're welcome, dear heart, and no, I don't think anything you do that's a part of your cultural heritage will be an issue for me," Hank assured her, handing over the cone of roses. "Short of harming yourself that is. I'm not sure I could stand by and let you do that."

"Occasionally fasting?" she eyed him sternly.

Hank frowned. "For how long?"

"Four days is the usual timeframe," Lucy told him, studying the roses, "and before you object, keep in mind I do that for Lent, too. Not for the whole forty days, just one day a week in Lent. Oh these are gorgeous!"

"I'm glad you like them," Hank murmured, and sighed. "As for fasting, I won't be happy about it, but I'll accept your reasons for doing so as long as it's not detrimental to your health. May I ask what brought all this to mind?"

Lucy waved him in and went to the tiny kitchen, searching for a vase. "At the risk of sounding cliché, we come from two very different backgrounds, Hank my dear. Personalities aside, we've got different expectations and belief systems and experiences and I just want to make sure the gulf isn't too wide to bridge."

She glanced over at him; he had picked up one of her pillows and had his face buried in it; guiltily he looked up. "May I have this?"

"Only if you give me one of yours," Lucy sighed. "Hank--"

"Sorry, sorry," he sighed, reluctantly setting the pillow down. "I know you're making very valid observations, but the very scent of you is distracting me somewhat from more cerebral matters."

Lucy blinked, and blushed. She went over to him and slipped her arms around his ribs, hugging Hank tightly. "Sorry—that really wasn't a good 'hello' was it? Being interrogated at the front door like that."

Hank hugged her back, sighing happily. "Any time I can see you is a good 'hello,' my sweet," came his soft reply. "I see some of your belongings have arrived."

"Yeah," Lucy agreed. "The essentials. I guess all of this puts up a big scent marker, huh?"

"A lovely one," Hank assured her, "rising up fast within my favorites."

Lucy snorted. "You haven't breathed me in when I'm sweaty and gross, or when it's that particular time of the month."

"Mere variations on a delectable theme." Hank felt himself responding to Lucy's warmth and proximity.

"Good. You're going to run into both pretty soon," Lucy replied. "Pardon my bluntness, but I doubt I could hide either from you."

Hank lifted her chin and firmly, sweetly kissed her before smiling down into her face. "Nor should you. I'm cognizant of your enthralling femininity, Lucy dearest."

Whatever Lucy was about to reply was lost as the sound of running feet reached them, moving along the path to the cottage. Lucy let go of Hank and moved to the door, opening it just as Skeeter skittered against the doorframe, out of breath.

"Rogue . . . hit . . . her head . . ." he puffed, "Bleeding . . ."