Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here that you recognise.

Feedback: Much appreciated

Ingra: Not any time soon, I'm sorry to say, but there's going to be quite a bit happening before then, I assure you…

Samyo: I did; preferred the movie, though

Ten Mara: I did what I could. Personally, I always saw Skinner as a better character than he pretended to be; almost a reluctant hero, but only because he's not all that keen on being a hero even though he's very good at it.

DiabloCat: Thanks for that; always a pleasure to see that my bad guy's proving popular.

A Face in the Crowd

Skinner idly fingered his collar as his carriage trundled along the road towards the school; no matter what he did, the thing was still uncomfortable.

He sighed. Too bad he hadn't managed to get in more practice at disguise work during his time with the League…

Then again, it wasn't like there hadn't been a good reason for that; a man with no apparent hands or head wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and his greasepaint didn't exactly help him blend casually in with society at large.

He shrugged, staring down at the dark grey suit he'd purchased shortly before sending his request for an appointment to the school. He supposed he couldn't complain; after all, it wasn't like there'd been much call for disguises in the League anyway; stealth missions had never been much of an essential factor in dealing with any of their previous foes.

They'd had advanced warnings about the Morlocks, the T-X, and the Martians, and while the Shark and the Beast had taken them by surprise with their strengths, they'd still been fairly easy to put down once they'd had a chance to think about what they were dealing with.

But disguises… never really been needed. Skinner briefly found he hoping that the League would get the chance to do that soon- every little trick helped- but shook that thought off.

It wasn't his business anymore.

He'd retired from the League.

He'd find out if his theory was correct, then he'd try and make a new life for himself after this last bit of business was attended to.

The carriage stopped, and he got out of it, looking curiously around at the school.

"Ah, Mr Skinner, I presume?" a loud female voice said.

Turning, Skinner found himself faced with a tall, imposing-looking figure in a dark purple dress. Her skin was noticeably paler than the norm for a human, although not quite to the level of Skinner in his greasepaint, with a prominent nose and dark hair pulled back into a tight bun.

However, despite his current concerns, Skinner's attention was briefly drawn to the woman's chest, which was…

Far larger than anything he'd seen before.

Geez, how the hell can this woman even stand, with those things in front of her? He thought to himself.

Then, remembering his reasons for being here, he smiled slightly at her and held out his hand.

"Yes, that's me," he said, trying to smother his normal accent. "Do I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Rosa Coote?"

"Indeed you do," Miss Coote smiled. "Now, let's get down to business; I understand you wish to enrol your daughter here, and have come over to inspect the premises?"

"Indeed," Skinner said, trying hard to remember how Jekyll commonly walked when in public; he wasn't exactly an ideal template, but given that he was the most 'upper-class' of the whole League, he was the best template Skinner could think of.

Then again, Mycroft might be a good idea too…

"I'm sure that your standards are excellent, but I prefer to make sure that Elizabeth shall be in safe hands myself," he said, already cursing himself for his choice of name (Elizabeth! He couldn't have been more unoriginal if he'd tried!) "Her mother died a few years back, and, for all her flaws, she is all I have left of my dear wife."

"A commendable attitude, Mr Skinner," Miss Coote said, as she walked along beside Skinner into the school's long corridors and started to walk along. "I assure you, however, that you have no need for concern; our standards are exceptionally high, and we always keep a good eye on our pupils."

"Of course, of course," Skinner said, waving a hand dismissively. "However, with your recent… reputation for the curious, shall we say… I felt it best to inspect things firsthand."

"Ah, you mean our miraculous conceptions?" Miss Coote asked, waving a dismissive hand. "They attract so much attention here, we've had to redecorate!"

"Really?" Skinner said, looking around briefly at the scaffolding around the corridor before glancing back at Miss Coote. "If you don't mind my asking, surely your unexpected mothers don't exactly view this as simply an attraction? After all, they are undertaking a great commitment because of them, are they not?" (Inwardly, Skinner groaned; honestly, he'd start to sound like old 'Cannibal', as he personally thought of Mycroft, at the rate he was going!)

"Oh, why don't you ask one of them yourself, Mr Skinner?" Miss Coote asked, indicating a blonde-haired woman in a school uniform with a slightly protruding stomach. "This is Miss Randall of Riverboro, Maine; one of the first of our little mothers." She looked over at the girl with a smile. "Mr Skinner here was just expressing an interest in your condition, Miss Randall."

"Remarkable thing, sir; the Holy Spirit just seemed to… enter into me," the young woman said, shaking Skinner's hand as she spoke. "If it's a girl, I'm namin' it Becky, like me."

"A good name, to be sure," Skinner said, trying to remember to stay in character; after all, a well-to-do aristocrat wouldn't grab a young girl and start violently shaking her, trying to make her see that this couldn't be the Holy Spirit, because since when was God so damn vague about something like what was apparently the bloody Second Coming…

But he restrained himself.

This wouldn't do him any good.

As the girl walked away, Skinner glanced curiously over at Miss Coote.

"On the subject, when did these… conceptions start to occur?" he asked, trying to sound just idly curious.

"Around three month ago," Miss Coote said, waving her hand dismissively. "We'd heard a few odd rumours from among the girls, but didn't think anything of it; you know young women, Mr Skinner, they'll make up anything these days, won't they?"

"Yes, indeed," Skinner said, laughing in a manner that sounded fake even to him. "Tell me, did anything happen at that point that might explain these visits in a more… conventional manner? I mean, did a new pupil arrive from somewhere or another?"

Miss Coote seemed about to reply with a negative, but stopped herself and nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, we did receive a new pupil from a small town around the border," she said, looking over at Skinner in a slightly quizzical manner as she spoke, as though wondering why he was asking all this, but too sensible to reject a possible parent's requests. "She was the niece of some physicst from that region; he claimed that he was concerned about her behaviour after an old schoolfriend of his went rogue, and he sent her here to calm down."

"What was his name?" Skinner asked, inwardly nervous. He thought he had a pretty good idea; the book had never mentioned him having a niece, but then, it had been focusing more on the other…

"Kemp, I believe," Miss Coote said eventually. "Doctor Kemp from Burdock, if memory serves."

Skinner barely managed to stop himself from cursing.

Kemp was involved?

But if it was what he suspected, then why hadn't Kemp mentioned it…

Skinner sighed.

He'd have to be off again.

"Well, thank you for your time, Miss Coote," he said, shaking her hand casually as he attempted to contain the emotions within him. "However, I must be off; I have business to attend to elsewhere."

"You're leaving us already?" Miss Coote said, sounding slightly disappointed. "But you haven't even seen the classrooms yet?"

"I have seen enough to give me cause to think," Skinner said, as he turned around and started to walk back towards the entrance. "Good day to you, Miss Coote; you may hear from me in the future."

But I doubt it, he thought, as he entered his carriage.

"Take me to Burdock," he said to the river as he sat down. "If we need to stop somewhere on the way there, feel free; I just need to get there within the next day or two."

"Of course, Mr Skinner," the man at the front of the carriage said. His name was Caesar, and he'd been recommended to the League a couple of times in the past by Mycroft Holmes; apparently the coachman had once aided Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson in following a man who had kidnapped Watson's wife.

When Skinner had begun to make his plans, he'd contacted Caesar in the event of him needing a fast coach on this private mission, and Caesar had eagerly accepted the offer, ready and willing to have a true test for his horses and himself.

As the coach began to drive away from the school, Skinner began to contemplate what he'd just learned.

If it was accurate, and Doctor Kemp was involved, could that mean…

Skinner stopped himself. He may not have a very deductive mind, but he remembered one of Sherlock Holmes's main rules when investigating a case; don't theorise until you know all the facts, otherwise you'll alter the facts to fit your views, instead of altering your views to fit the facts.

Until he knew otherwise, he'd just assume it was a new guy.

And hope and pray it wasn't him…