It was the evening after the infamous shopping spree, which Lev had barely survived. None of the other men had been invited along and Lev wasn't talking about what destruction and ruin the sisters had left in their wake, but he had hit the bottle pretty hard that evening.

While the shopping had gone on, Edwards had packed up the things Betty Jo had wanted to move to Avery House, so when Sam got in that evening, holding two grocery bags of food, he found a much emptier apartment than it had been a few days ago. He stood in the hallway, the door open, looking in. The noise of the front door opening behind him made him turn his head to see who'd just come in.

"Good evening, Bobbie Jo. I see the shopping trip yesterday had no lasting ill effects."

She grinned.  "Well for me, no.  But I'm not so sure about Lev.  How you today?"

"I'm quite well. Still a bit puzzled about the other evening. But it isn't the only thing that has puzzled me in my lifetime."

"Puzzled?  About what?" she asked.  And then, "would you like to put your groceries down?"

"Oh!" he said, realizing he was still holding the bags. He walked into the apartment and set the groceries on the counter. "Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked turning to her.

"You know, I think I would," she said after a moment.  "Thank you."

He motioned for her to take a seat on the far side of the counter and he began putting groceries away, and pulled out a bottle of a very nice white wine and poured them each a glass.

"I'm assuming," he said as he put things neatly away, "that someone materializing out of nowhere in the middle of your backyard is a ... common occurrence given how you all reacted. And especially so since Lev didn't react to it. For me, I must say, it was.. a shock. As a diplomat I've learned to hide my surprise, and even my shock, but ..." he let the sentence fade. "As you can imagine, my imagination has been rather running away with me."

She cocked her head to the side as she sipped the wine.  "Yes, I imagine that for someone unfamiliar with it, it would be a bit of a surprise," she said carefully.

"I don't mean to pry, but.. Well... there it was and I was the only person surprised."

"No, I understand," she said, sipping the wine.  "I've just never been faced with explaining it to someone who didn't know what was going on.  In Dia's case it was magic.  She accesses energy using what is traditionally understood as magic.  She is a mage, properly speaking."

"Magic?" he clearly was skeptical.  "And Ian's man Edwards, who packed up ever so carefully and then... and then the boxes just suddenly weren't here any more? Magic also?"

She nodded.  "All of us except Leroy and Lev.  They don't use magic, but rather psi...-pathic abilities.  They are what are called Awakened."

"Awakened? I've never heard the term used before, at least not as you seem to be using it, to describe. something. What is that, exactly?"  he was leaning on his elbows on the counter, his eyes alight with questions.

She exhaled slowly.  "Well as I understand it it refers to those who attain the ability to access those talents as the result of a severe trauma...they are awakened to them."

"And they can... just disappear from one spot and reappear in another? Can you do that too? Using magic? If so, is it learned? I mean, aren't you seen as a ... a threat?  To security?"

"Most people don't know we exist.  Most who see something don't believe it.  That leaves a very small segment of the population who both know and believe.  Though that's changing and as it does in the right places then there are opinions in both directions."

He walked around to take a counter side seat with her and sipped his wine thinking about what she'd said. "I have seen things. As you say, I've dismissed them as, I don't know. Imagination. Confusion. But.. So I gather Ian and Betty Jo don't fly into DC and go through security, nor get their passports stamped. Must make your Homeland Security go wild."

She laughed.  "We try to keep it from them, but pretty much, yes.  On the other hand it's dawning on people that in spite of the problems we have our uses as well."

He nodded. Thinking about it.  "Does your agency know about your abilities? Is that why.. Well, some of the chatter you and Billie and Leroy have seems... not strictly speaking like law enforcement to me."

She laughed.  "No, I imagine not.  Our agency is about people with these abilities...building relationships, understanding them in a sense, identifying phenomena resulting from them, and policing or helping to police those who have them, given the unique sorts of problems they can create...those sorts of things."

"So... While Homeland Security compiles a do-not-fly-list, you folks are compiling a can-fly-without-airplanes-list?" he asked with a wide eyed half grin. "You people must scare the devil out of governments."

She nodded.  "Hence the agency."

He sat back, staring down at his wine. "It's all so normal for you. And hard for me to even imagine."

"I would bet, though, from what I know of you, that you recover quickly."

He looked up and smiled. "That's one of the nicest compliments I could hope to hear from you. Is that why you won't go out with me?"

"Partly," she said.  "We tend to live a long time.  Longer than most.  It can..." She gestured helplessly.  "It can create issues," she finished finally.

"Not to mention envy.  I suppose there are agencies like yours in all the major countries. MI7, Central... Psi Agency, whatever Russia's would be called... " He sighed. "So I suppose I should stop worrying about what your government is hiding at Area 51 and instead worry about what is hiding in plain sight."

"Or not waste time worrying," she said.  "Life's too short."

"Although not so much for some," he replied meeting her eyes. "And you trust me with this information? I could... I don't know, call the National Inquirer."

"You could.  But so what?  Who believes them?  Or would really believe this?  And even if they did, still...so what?"

He nodded ruefully. "True. You'll notice I didn't threaten to speak to the Washington Post. Well, I've no desire to have myself incarcerated in some mental hospital so your secret is safe with me. I'd still like you to go out with me though. It's just a date. Not as if we were planning a relationship. I've got tickets to the Opera."

She hesitated and then shook her head.  "I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I can't.  Besides, the opera would be wasted on me."

"Ah well, can't blame a fellow for trying. But thank you for trusting me with this. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile.  "But I should be going and leave you in peace."

He saw her to the door and watched her walk up the stairs.

Later that evening, when he was putting clothes in the downstairs washer his cell phone rang. "Yes. No, it isn't going well. Yes, I've made friends with them, but I'm not any further along. I'm not sure how I can be. .... Yes... I understand how important it is. Yes... All right. I'll .. Yes. Of course. I understand."

Bobbie stopped on the stairs at the sound of his voice, then froze at the words.  When she heard him hang up she zapped back to her apartment and set her laundry basket down.  She sat down and replayed the conversation in her mind, lingering over the 'I've made friends with them.'  Finally she nodded to herself, picked up her laundry basket and went to retrieve her laundry.

The next afternoon she again encountered him in the hallway while she was checking her mail.  "Hello," she said as he came in the front door. 

He smiled at her "Hullo.  You look lovely. Sorry. Can't quite resist."

She dimpled.  "Do you know, I'm actually glad you didn't."  She leaned back against the newel post, regarding him for a moment.  Then she said, "Tell me, have you found a home for the opera ticket?"

His smile faded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Actually, I gave both tickets to a friend. I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for.  I hope your friend enjoys it."

"I think he will. He doesn't get an opportunity to go to the Kennedy Center that often and his wife was delighted. Which means... I'm free Saturday night. If you were. Perhaps I can buy you dinner to make up for it."

She smiled.  "I'll probably enjoy that much more than the opera.  Thank you."

"Have you a favorite restaurant? Or will you trust me to choose one?"

"Trusting you to pick is part of the fun," she said. 

"Very good then. Say 8pm Saturday?"

"It's a date."  She dimpled again.  "I'm looking forward to it."

"Oh so am I."

At 8pm precisely Saturday night Sam walked up the stairs to knock at Bobbie Jo's door. He was wearing a tuxedo and a smile when she opened the door. 

She smiled back, her eyes openly appreciating him and his appearance, and stepped away from the doorway.  "Come in, please.  Would you like a glass of wine before we go?" she asked, reaching up to put her other earring in. 

"Sure," he said, looking around at her apartment appreciatively. "We've a few minutes before the cab gets here. Since I can't just magic us to the restaurant."

She laughed and went into the kitchen.  "We don't tend to do that all the time.  Usually anyway."  She returned a moment later with two glasses, one of which she handed to him. "Please, sit down.  Very little formality here."

"Thank you. It's very different from Betty's apartment," he said looking around.

She glanced around the great room that constituted her living room and dining room.  "Yes, it is.  I prefer the openness and wanted more sunlight and glass.  Her taste runs to the more traditional.  Billie, on the other hand, prefers cozy, country sorts of styles."

"Which," he decided with a grin, "completely explains their tastes in men. Why did you change your mind and decide to go out with me?"

"You know, I never thought of it that way, but you may be on to something there," she said and then sipped her wine.  "I suppose, basically, it's because I like you and you were right.  You asked me out on a date, not into a relationship."

"And I'll be safely out of your hair in a few months, so no awkwardness of avoiding each other," he added, with a gin.  "All the upside with none of the down."

"Well, I hadn't actually thought that far ahead, but again you may be onto something there.  And I do appreciate your restraining yourself from jokes about fickle females...or is that premature?"

"Ah, you'll hear no such jokes from me as I'm far too delighted you agreed to have dinner with me to be that gauche."

She laughed.  "Here's to the freedom to change your mind," she said, clicking his glass with hers.  "I warn you, though" she said, after a moment, a speculative light in her eye, "I'm terrible at small talk and making conversation and have been known to simply allow silence to take hold."

"I thank you for that warning then. I won't take it personally. And I've no objection to silence in and of itself, so long as it isn't awkward."

"Hence the warning," she replied.  Then she listened for a moment.  "I think that is the sound of our cab."

"I expect you're right.  Shall we?"  He held her light wrap as she pulled it around her shoulders and they walked down the stairs.  When they got into the taxi he said, "IndeBleu, 707 G Street."  Once the cabbie took off and they'd settled he said, "Have you been there before?"

"No, though I've heard it's wonderful.  Have you?  Or will it be an adventure for both of us?"

"An adventure for us both. Someone recommended it. It is wonderful living in a city with so many choices. Bermuda is limited, you see."

"It is?  Because of being an island?  Or were you referring solely to British cuisine?"

"Both. Most of our food is flown in, so other than locally caught seafood.." he shrugged. "Still it is a lovely place. Nice people. Beautiful views. Where are you from originally?"

"A small town outside of Mobile Alabama.  Mama's family has lived here for generations and she and Daddy just stayed, living in the house her grandfather built."

"Ah. Deep knit family ties. And are they all like you? Magical, I mean? I'm picturing this old southern Victorian with gingerbread and a wrap-around porch and you three, or four, dancing naked in the moonlight in the back garden on Midsummer's Eve."

"Hardly," she said, laughing.  "Mama would have had a fit.  She's not, she's what you might call normal.  Daddy's magical.  And until recently we all thought the three of us weren't, but then we found out, quite by accident we weren't.  So do you live in Bermuda when you aren't doing diplomatic things?"

"Amongst other places. How do you find out accidentally you are magical?"

"Oh I get it," she said, teasing him.  "We're trading information.  Okay.  It was when Ian and Betty Jo had to get out of a room without doors or windows.  And Betty Jo did something to help Ian generate power and the amount of power they generated was a lot more than would have been if she weren't a mage, or at least a latent one.  So where else besides Bermuda?"

"Wait... so generating power.. Like, I dunno, a substation?" he asked as he helped her out of the cab at the restaurant. "We aren't trading information, as such, but what you've got to share is a lot more interesting than me saying I've lived in London and Paris."

"That depends entirely on your point of view.  I find me pretty mundane.  And yeah, sort of like that.  None of it works without power, it's the limiting factor.  So you haven't confined yourself to Bermuda.  Does that mean you like to travel?" she asked, as they entered the restaurant.

He was busy checking them in and confirming that yes, that was his reservation and then they were shown to a table. He seated her and walked around to sit opposite her. "Yes, I do like to travel although flying these days is a chore. Can I learn how to do what you do?"

"Dunno.  Depends on what you brain is like.  I know someone who could look, if you're really interested.  So what do you like to do besides travel and ask questions?"

He ordered a bottle of wine and then when they were alone again replied, "Oh, the usual. Opera, concerts, theater, cricket. I tried golf and hate it."

"I can see that, actually.  You don't strike me as a golf sort of person at all.  But cricket, that I can see."

He frowned. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing," he asked as he opened up his menu.

"Oh a good thing.  It means you'll never ask me to play golf, a game I hate.  It's little things like that make for the best friendships."

He laughed, then as the waiter arrived they ordered. Once he was gone Sam asked, "So what is it you like to do when you aren't detecting?"

"The usual things, I suppose," she said, tasting the wine.  "Music, theatre, museums.  When I get tired of the crowds I like to read and garden.  And I like to fish."

"Fish? How interesting. You should got to Bermuda with me sometime. Lots of great fishing there, or so I'm told. I prefer to cook it than catch it."

"Deep sea fishing?  I've never done that.  Mostly I'm the sit on the side of the creek and daydream sort of fisherwoman.  Still if you're going to cook it, I could be convinced to give it a try.  You really do wonderful things with food from what I can tell.  A talent I wish I shared," she said.

"You don't? Billie likes to cook, doesn't she? Leroy likes to eat. A pair made in heaven."

"There's a different between liking to cook, which I do and the cooking I do and that that you do."

"Don't you believe it.  The idea is to enjoy what you cook. Do Billie and Leroy work together? I'd think that would be hard. Worrying about the other's safety all the time."

She shrugged.  "Depends on the cases and the case load.  We're staffing up so I expect they'll do it very little if at all now.  Still, they've only been an item for a short while.  Since Vegas."

"What happened there? Can you tell me, or is it all hush hush? I gather that's why Betty Jo isn't coming back?"

"No it's not all hush-hush.  Just not common knowledge.  A group of people were laundering drug money through a casino.  And also moving product, though the money was what got the attention of the DEA.  Turned out they were talented and we got called in.  It went bad in a hurry, the informant was killed, Billie was shot and a man with a history with her and Ian took Betty.  The result was she should be dead.  If it weren't for the healers she would be."

"Ah. Well, I can understand Ian's concern for her then. I think I'd be pretty unreasonable if it happened to someone I loved. I have all that much more respect for Leroy then, although a good bit less understanding of him. But you said Healers. What are those?"

"It's a talent, a use of a psi gift to heal at the molecular level. You're really fascinated by the whole subject, aren't you?" she asked, grinning at him.

"Well, who wouldn't be? I mean, you're telling me there is a whole other world out there that I was entirely unaware of even if I live amongst you. I feel like the hero in the Night of the Living Dead or something. So, do you have, like, detectors or something to tell you if someone like the bad guys in Vegas are breaking in? How can you protect yourself from bad .. what did you call them... Awakened?"

"How do you protect yourself from bad people generally?" she asked rhetorically.  "It's pretty much the same, just differences in threat and methodology.  There are groups who take responsibility for policing their own.  Until very recently they were the only ones and the fact that no one knew about them is a pretty good sign they did a pretty good job.  Now we're getting into the business as well, but probably only as an adjunct for a long time.  I mean ask yourself, they get arrested and tossed in jail.  Think they're going to be so obliging as stay there just 'cause?"

"Hmm," he said as he tried his fish. "Good point. How would you lock away someone who could just magic himself away. How would you protect anything. Vaults, museums. I mean, anything valuable might be at risk."

"The best you can using what's out there now, mostly, I suppose," she said after she took a bit of hers.  "This is wonderful," she said taking another bite of fish.  "How's yours?"

"Quite good. I'm trying to figure out the ingredients. I steal recipes. Fair warning. You cannot keep them safe from me."

"Okay and once you know do you share?  And do you adapt them, play with them to make them better?"

"Oh yes, I always play with my food," he said with a grin. "I like getting ideas from new places like this and trying and experimenting with the idea. Be careful or I might be tempted to use you as a guinea pig."

"So if the idea appeals I should be reckless?  Is that what you're saying?"

"Are you ever reckless, Bobbie?"

She sobered, meeting his eyes across the table.  "Yes."

"Then you're hired."

She grinned.  "I accept the position.  Official food tasting guinea pig."

They chatted over brandy afterward then he took her home. They were both silent in the taxi.  He followed her up the stairs to her door and there leaned against the door jam. "Thank you, I had a lovely time."

"So did I," she said.  "I'm really glad I said yes."  She hesitated for a moment, her regard open and assessing.  "Would you like to come in for a drink?  Or some coffee?"

"I thank you but no."  But even as he said it she suddenly found herself in his arms and he was kissing her.  She found herself responding, moving closer to him, her arms moving of their own volition around him, all thought suspended.  The kiss turned passionate and lasted for a short eternity then he broke it and smiled down at her. "Good night, Bobbie."  He turned and was gone.

"Oh God," she thought to herself as she watched him disappear from sight before closing her door.  "Oh this is not good news."