He waited till the whiskey was half gone before asking me what was going on.

I put on my best confused face. "What do you mean?"

His smirk got a bit wider. "Even if you did want to talk to me, you wouldn't just track me down on a whim."

"Howie-"

"Doesn't have that much influence over you," he dismissed. "I've seen you hold grudges over the pettiest shit your entire life. I don't assume to put myself higher than anyone else when it comes to pissin' you off. So, either you've gotten a lot more magnanimous, which I know you haven't, or somethin's going on that forced your hand."

The prospect of guilt had made me decide not to tell him. Guilt over dragging him into another war after what he'd said about Vietnam. I was just going to tell Erik and Charles that he hadn't been interested and leave it at that, but I should have known he'd tell something was off. I saw through his bullshit and he saw through mine.

His smirk dropped completely. "What happened, Lizzy?"

I downed the rest of my glass and told him everything.

He waited till the whiskey was gone before saying, "Fuck me."

I barked out a laugh and got up from the table. "We're going to need another bottle."

Division X

Langley, Virginia

It took three bottles total to get us through the rest of the conversation, and even then, it probably should have been four. He wasn't all that pleased about anything I had to tell him, and he was even less pleased when I told him about the CIA's involvement. That little tidbit had almost started another fight and prompted the third whiskey bottle. His eventual agreement to help came with the condition that he didn't have to step foot on Central Intelligence property unless absolutely necessary, something I didn't argue about because I didn't want him there either. The thought of Jimmy dealing with federal agents not employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. put me on a certain kind of edge. We decided that he'd stay somewhere within howling distance in case something else fucked up happens.

The on-duty security guard made a point of getting out of his booth to look at my credentials. It was past midnight and only night shift security were officially on the premises, so I chalked it up to either him being high-strung or bored.

He pursed his lips as he looked between me, my badge, and my car. "Aston Martin, right?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"Your car," he elaborated with a nod. "It's an Aston Martin."

"Oh, yeah. A DB4," I answered. "Series V specifically."

He let out a huff and held my badge out. "I don't much care for the foreign cars."

"Oh," I said, awkwardly taking my badge back. "Well, have a nice night."

His smile was ill-fitted. "You as well, Director Rogers."

With a muttered 'what the fuck?' I pulled through the now opened gate, descending into the parking garage. My tires screeched against the shellacked floor, the sound horrifying as it echoed off the cement walls. I took the same spot I had this morning and killed the engine. I sat there for a moment in consideration of sleeping in my car, but the chance that someone would find me turned me off of the idea. I grabbed my purse and climbed out, locking the door before walking around to the trunk.

I was pulling my go-bag out when I caught the smell of petrichor. More prepared for it this time, I closed the trunk and scanned the parking garage. Besides a few company cars the place was empty.

"Are we really doing this?" I asked myself.

The scent was leading towards the elevator.

"I have to go that way anyway, right? Right," I answered, throwing the go-bag over my shoulder and walking over. I was reaching for the UP button when the scent drifted to the right, pulling my attention to the door for the stairs. I looked between the two options with a frown. "Stairs are the healthier option, right? Right," I answered again, making the few steps and pulling open the door.

The country night air was a welcome change to the smell of the trenches. We were only a day's walk from the front, but the distance did a world of wonder. The shells and gunfire sounded like thunder this far out, and in an odd way it was almost soothing.

"They're not working anymore."

I turned away from the treeline to look back at Bucky. When I started watch he had laid out next to Steve, wrapped up in his blanket like a baby with his face buried into his pack. Now he was huddled next to the fire, still wrapped in his blanket and looked very petulant. I glanced back to the trees before starting the short walk back to camp. He had whispered when he spoke, but he knew I would hear it.

"How many have you taken?" I asked, keeping my voice low as I eyed Steve. The man was a light sleeper everywhere but the front line. "Many we need to up the dose again."

"I took what I had left."

That was concerning. I knew for a fact that Howie had packed him enough to last at least a month, and we were in week three of the mission. He'd taken a week's worth of doses in one night and he wasn't comatose.

"They haven't worked in a while," he continued, still staring into the fire. "I was taking twelve, before, but they..."

I crouched beside him and reached out to press my fingers against his neck, going still when I found his pulse. Despite the seeming overdose his heartbeat was normal- well, normal for him at least. I sighed and moved my hand to rest at his nape. "Do you feel any different? Sluggish? Or disorganized?"

He hummed a denial. "They're not working anymore."

"You've either built an immunity to them, or your metabolism has gotten faster," I theorized, flexing my fingers against his skin as I focused on him.

"Whatcha' doin'?" Bucky slurred as he leaned into me, his head dropped to my shoulder.

"It's okay," I told him, closing my eyes as I concentrated on calm. "Just breathe with me."

"Eleanor?"

"Just breathe."

"Oma?"

I frowned and turned my head to look down the hall. Erik and Charles stood behind me with matching concerned expression. My heart jumped into my throat as I turned back to Buck, lurching back when I came face-to-face with a door. "Fuck," I hissed, taking a few steps back as I looked over the hallway. The plaque beside the door had Lancet's name on it, so that meant I had made it up at least one flight of stairs and across the facility on autopilot. "Oh, fuck you."

"What did we do?" Erik demanded.

"What? No, not you," I dismissed. Bucky's scent still hung in the air, leading into Lancet's office through the locked door. I tried the handle just to make sure before looking over to the card swiper. I'd somehow managed to keep hold of my badge during my trip across campus, my fingers wrapped tightly around the plastic. "You two didn't see me do this, alright?"

"Do what?"

"Exactly," I praised before swiping my badge.

Lancet's office was empty, and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed. With the lights on it looked undisturbed, and if it hadn't of been for the scent I wouldn't have thought anything was out of the ordinary.

"Not that I'm against a little breaking and entering, darling, but what are we doing?" Charles asked, peeking his head through the doorway while Erik just walked in.

"Does anything look out of place?" I asked instead, following the scent around the desk towards the windows. They didn't open but whoever had been in here had lingered long enough to be noticeable.

Despite the vague question, Charles still looked Lancet's office over. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"It looks the same," Erik answered with a shrug. "I was in here a few hours ago."

Charles' attention snapped to him. "What were you doing in here?"

"Snooping."

"Erik."

"Don't start."

It would have been amusing if I hadn't of been staring at the Golf Ball. "We still have Hank's research, right?"

Their attention turned back to me.

"It's in our conference room," Erik answered, seeming to catch onto my suspicions. "Along with everything else we've been working on. We were going over it when we noticed you were back. What's going on?"

I had followed the scent here but that didn't mean it was the only place the person had gone. "It could be nothing."

Erik snorted. "You're paranoid, Eleanor, not delusional."

I barked out a laugh. "That's kind of you to say," I praised, shooting one more look towards Cerebro before turning to Charles. "Can you do a sweet of the building? See if there's someone here who shouldn't be?"

His uneasy visibly doubled. "Do you think it's Schmidt?"

"No, I think it's not him. Can you check?"

Charles let out a tense sigh and closed his eyes, a crease forming between his brows as he concentrated.

"Wer glaubst du, ist es? (who do you think it is?)" Erik asked, keeping his voice low to not distract Charles.

I shifted restlessly and pulled in another deep breath of the scent. "Der Welpe (the puppy)."

A stricken look crossed his face and he looked back to Charles. "Anything?"

He held up a finger in pause before shaking his head reluctantly. "I'm sorry, darling, but there's nothing out of the ordinary," he answered. "I can look again if there's something specific I focus on?"

Again, I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. "No, if there was something wrong you would have found it."

"Eleanor, if there's-"

"There's nothing," I interrupted, silently chastising myself for letting him get involved. "This didn't happen and if you bring it up I'll deny it and you'll look ridiculous."

Neither of them looked particularly amused by that.

I rolled my eyes and left the office, not bothering to wait for them as I headed for the conference room. Hushed squabbling followed me halfway there before they decided to let it go and go after me. "Tell me how recruitment went," I said once their footsteps joined mine in the hallway. "Who was desperate enough to join a Mutant Special Ops team ran by the CIA?"

Neither answered.

I stopped to look back at them. "You did tell them it's the CIA, right?"

The perturbed look on Charles' face deepened. "No, Eleanor, we told them it was MacDonalds."

"That's not how you pronounce it."

"Course it is."

"No, it's spelled m-c-d-o-n-a-l-d-s."

"That can't be right."

"That's how it's spelled."

"That doesn't make it right."

Erik let out a long-suffering sigh. "Children, please."

"Who pronounces it that way?"

"Someone who actually knows the language."

"You're British."

"So?"

"So, you're both idiots," Erik answered as he pushed past us. "Yes, we told them it was the CIA and they joined anyways. Doesn't this generation know not to trust the government?"

I shot Charles one last look before starting down the hall again. "Sure they do, but you offered them something worth the risk."

Erik scoffed.

"Sie haben das Gleiche getan, als Sie herausfanden, dass Sie nicht der einzige waren (you did the same thing when you found out that you weren't the only one)," I reminded him.

"Ich wusste von Schmidt (I knew about Schmidt)."

"Du wusstest von einem Monster (you knew about a monster)," I argued. "Du bist gekommen, weil ich dir etwas anderes versprochen habe. Genau so versprechen wir es ihnen. (you came because I promised you something else. Exactly like we promise them)."

He looked back at me with an uninspired expression. "Alles, was Sie sagen, lässt mich bedauern, dass ich zugestimmt habe, hierher zu kommen (everything you say makes me regret that I have agreed to come here)."

I mirrored the look. "Glauben Sie mir, ich bereue es auch (believe me, I regret it too)," I told him. "Aber du weißt, ich habe recht (you know I'm right)."

"Not that I don't think it's endearing that you two have secret conversations," Charles started, "but if you two keep this up I'm going to have to get a German phrase book."

Erik looked far from unimpressed when he turned to him. "Don't worry, Vicar, we're not talking about you."

My eyebrows shot up when I saw the blush spread across the Telepath's cheeks. "What was that?" I demanded. "Was that a nickname? You two have nicknames now?"

Charles' face flushed further. "It's nothing."

I jabbed a finger into Erik's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Well, you missed out on the gentlemen's club," he answered with a smirk back at me, "and the mind trick Charles played to get Miss. Salvadore warmed up to us. You would have loved it."

I looked back to him. "What did you do?"

"It was nothing."

"What did he do?"

"He put me in lingerie and a wig."

"Show me."

He side-eyed me. "You want me to play mind tricks on you?"

"Just the one," I reiterated before Erik's hair was suddenly a red bob. I took him in and barked out a laugh when I saw the showgirl outfit he was wearing.

He spun on his heel to walk backwards; hands placed on his hips sassily. "Does it suit me?" he asked, jostling his head to make the bob flare out. "Should I grow it out?"

I didn't bother trying to keep my laughter in. "It really compliments your bone structure. And that bodice is doing wonders for your figure."

He shot me a wink just before he was back to normal. "Luckily for us Miss. Salvadore found it funny too and showed us her own Mutation. Which," he started, looking to Charles, "I am amazed that no one else saw."

"You didn't think your costume change was my only trick of the night, did you? I promised Eleanor that nothing would get outside of our little team, and that includes people getting a free show at a gentlemen's club."

"It's not a free show if they paid a cover charge," I mused, "but I appreciate your efforts in not forcing me to hurt you."

He laughed at that but trailed off when he saw I hadn't joined in. "Ah, well, just keeping my promise."

"Keep it up."

The conference room door swung open when Erik approached, the lights they'd left on flooding the hall. Research papers and files were spread out across the coffee table again along with several take-out boxes.

"The only one we didn't see was Alex Summers," Charles said as he took his usual chair. "We called again but the warden isn't taking our calls."

"Did you tell him it was for the CIA?"

"We never made it past his secretary."

"We'll have to just show up then and pull rank on everyone," I decided, not wanting to bother Howie with something as trivial as string pulling.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"It won't be the last. Let's just plan on that see where we go. If it doesn't get us anywhere I'll just bribe the warden."

"That also wouldn't be the first time."

Charles shook his head in amusement. "I don't think I want to know."

"You don't," we answered.

He seemed to accept that. "How did things go with your brother? I'm assuming well since you're not blood splattered."

If he hadn't already of known so much I wouldn't have answered him. "It went better than I had expected it to," I allowed. "We cleared up some things and he's agreed to help up, but he doesn't want to deal with the CIA any more than he has to, so he's staying somewhere close by. He'll be here when we need him."

The smile on Erik's face told me that he was going to ask more questions later, and the smile I gave him back said I probably wouldn't answer them.

"I'm glad you worked it out, darling. I look forward to meeting him."

I cocked a brow at him. "Aren't you brave in the face of danger. You do know that he's worse than me, right?"

"I don't see how that's possible."

"It's possible," Erik corrected. "At least she'll warn you before she stabs you."

I nodded my head to the side in agreement and shot Charles' a wink. "I'm sure he'll like you though."

His annoyance manifested as physical pain and he allowed a grimace. "As a house likes a fire, I'm sure," he mused before looking pointedly to Erik. "Are we going to finish our game, or do you concede defeat?"

"Such a generous offer from one losing so spectacularly."

"As, I'm only letting you think that I'm losing. In truth, I'm saving you from a devastating defeat, one of which you will never recover."

"I'll let you think that if it helps you sleep at night."

While I was pleased at their ability to flirt of their own free will, I knew when to take an our when I saw one. "Well, it's going to do nothing for my sleep," I announced, collecting the name and coordinates list for the remaining Mutants before betting up. "Don't stay up too late, boys, we're going to prison in the morning."

They shared a chuckle and waved me off.

Howard took the news of my familial reconciliations as humbly as he possibly could have, which is a roundabout way of saying he bragged. After half an hour of trying to get him off the phone I hung up on him. He was obviously amused by that because he didn't try calling back. Satisfied that I'd ticked off everything on my list that I needed to tick off, I settled in for what I was sure would be un-fitful sleep. In the morning I allowed myself some smugness for being right.

I hope we're all doing alright in whatever situation we find ourselves in these days. I truly do hope that we're all safe.

~Alya 3