Betty Jo pushed the door to Filomena's open,  glad to be out of the rain.  She resisted the urge to shake the drops off and looked around.  She knew Terry had gotten here first since he was raised to never being late to an art form.  She spotted him and waved as she threaded her way through the tables.  She hadn't seen him or any of her friends at DEA since she'd changed jobs.  She and Terry had been partners the whole time she'd been an agent, as much as the working undercover allowed partners.  He'd been more like her handler, the link between her and the real world when she went under and she was hoping to persuade him to move over to the Zoo.

"Hi, honey," she said, kissing him on the cheek.  "It's great to see you."

"Well, I must say, you're looking good. I gather you're fitting right into the Zoo. I have to say I'm surprised," he added, as he waited for her to take a seat, and when she did he sat down too. "I always thought you more, I don't know, down to Earth, so to speak.  And," he added, as he waved to a waiter to order drinks,  "I've missed you."

"I've missed you," she said, stifling a laugh.  He would always be the same.  "You make the place sound like we consort daily with chimps and blow fish.  All we do is focus on a different kind of criminal."

"Ah, I've heard stories," he said leaning forward, and winking mysteriously. "Are they true? I hope so.'

She did laugh then.  "What stories?  I can't tell you if they're true 'til I what they are."

"Well, there's one that Rimes is really an alien and that he glows in the dark."  At her laughter he grinned. "No seriously. Are you people really involved in odd things? I rather wonder why ..  Ah here's our waiter. I thought he'd never come."  Terry didn't drink that often, but he did enjoy a nice wine now and again and Filomena had a very nice wine list.  Terry and the waiter discussed the merits of Gavi and Valpolicella happily while Betty Jo relaxed, amused, listening to them.

"That was very well done, Terry.  I am impressed.  Now what is it you were wondering about before you were wondering about Gavi wines?" she asked, her eyes dancing.  "And yes, we're not only involved in odd, we're dedicated to it."

"Well, I was wondering why you folks hadn't been called in with regard to the Vegas thing. Especially after New Orleans. Finding that girl was very well done, good on Billie and that new guy, what's his name."

"That's Leroy Saunders, what Vegas thing and how do you know about New Orleans?  We're supposed to be secret and unknown."

"Well, you are. We only speak of you in whispered voices. NOPD apparently made it known to the powers that be that they greatly appreciated the help. Nice of them.  Local police far too often resent us. I'm having the pollo alla domenica and you?"

"The cannelloni frutti de mare, of course.  I love the lobster sauce.  That was nice of them, to say thanks.  Billie had a rough time.  So what's the Vegas thing, Terry?" she asked, as she accepted a glass of the wine he'd chosen for them.

"Well, we're thinking it's money laundering, nothing odd about that, but, well, there've been agents reporting some strange goings on. Like folks they tail who disappear.  You know, go round a corner and never seen after that. All very annoying as you can imagine. So, what's this about an English Lord in your life? That rumor true?"

"Yes, he's an earl in fact, though it doesn't play big in his life or mine.  Now could we pick a subject and stick with it to the end?  Then move onto the next?  A sort of linear progression that's easy for the mentally challenged like myself to follow?"

"You are such a pedant. Which one would you like?"

"Vegas, of course.  I know all about my English lord," she replied.

"Well, I don't. I'm going to be grilled when I go back to the office. Vegas. What else is there to say? We've got a few people watching 'em. Not sure if it's going to pan out. Vegas is, well, you know what it's like. We could arrest half the town if they weren't politically well connected."

She rolled her eyes.  "I'll tell you all about it next.   Now, I'm interested in odd, not business as usual.  Is it a new bunch?  How do you think they're cleaning the money and who are they doing it for?  You know, give me the brief."

"Interested are you? Bored? Not enough work to keep you fed and happy?  We're not sure, with regard to if it's a new bunch. Some new folks, but some of their contacts are the usual suspects. We're hoping our informants can get us more. We've just put a guy inside, we hope. Keep your fingers crossed. Oh, and I've got a file folder for you in my car. Don't let me forget to give it to you after lunch."

She narrowed her eyes.  "On this?"

"No, on an investment in treasury bonds. Now tell me about the Lord. It serious?"

She blushed.  "Very.  His being English and living in London makes things interesting.  But, I think he's worth it.  You'd like him I think."

Terry grinned. "Leave it to you to find one. Although the red eye fights to and from London have gotta be the pits."  The waiter brought their meals and once they were alone again, Terry added, "You know, I always figured you'd fall for another cop. Never figured you for the brie and wine set. When do you get the ring?"

"Don't get pushy," she said and focused on her food for a bit.  Then she smiled at him, tilting her head a bit to the side, her look speculative.  "Would you be interested in working with me again?"

"For Rimes?"

"Yes.  He's an unusual man.  Not like a stereotypical bureaucrat.  We're small and going to stay that way so everyone is hand picked."

"I knew Coop Stone at the Academy. I confess I was surprised to hear he'd taken the job at the Zoo. I gotta say, a lot of agents think you guys are really out there. Mulder territory, you know?"

"What if I could prove that it's all real?  Would you be interested?" she asked.  She looked at her plate for a minute.  "There's no one I trust more when I'm out there."

Terry chowed down on his chicken for a bit then washing some down with the excellent wine, and replied, "I appreciate that, sweetheart. Prove what?"

"That odd is real," she said,  "not a TV show."

"Well, I'm always up for learning something new," Terry replied, meeting her eyes. "I confess, though, I'm a hard sell."

She nodded. "Are you free for dinner tonight?  Would you like to meet the English lord?" she asked, a smile playing around her mouth.  "You would, unfortunately, have to dress but you look great in a tux."

"He in town is he? Sure. I'd like to meet the guy who caught your eye. Lucky devil."

"Okay, I'll pick you up at your place about three-thirty.  It's early I know, but we'll be heading out of town."

"Okay. I'll feel a bit odd wearing a tux in the afternoon, but sure. I'll be ready. Hadn't you better give your guy a call and warn him you're bringing a stray?" Terry's eyes were laughing.

She grinned and pulled out her cellphone, hit a speed dial number and shared the news with her guy.  "He's looking forward to meeting you," she said, flipping it closed and returning it to her purse.

Terry laughed. "All right, you've convinced me. I just don't wanna show up and be seen as competition."

She shook her head.  "You wouldn't be."  She set her napkin on the table.  "You getting a doggie bag?"

"Oh yeah, if we're going out to dinner you know it. I gotta fit in that tux."

She raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down.  "You'll be fine, sugar."

At three-thirty on the dot she knocked on the door, having reported progress on recruiting Terry to Rimes and leaving him reading the file on Vegas.  She thought maybe they'd have the case before the end of business.  She thought she'd have Terry back as a handler before this time tomorrow.   In principle anyway.

Terry answered the door, with his tie undone but otherwise in his tux. He also had a phone to his ear and waved her inside, while he continued his conversation. It was work, she could tell. She wandered in to sit in his neat living room. It was small and sparsely furnished. Utilitarian. He had some nice paintings, good copies, and they were still sitting on the floor instead of hung on the walls. They'd been that way for years. He always said he just could never decide where to hang them.

Finally he got rid of his caller and smiled. "Sorry. Work.  You know."

"I do.  Are you ready?" she asked.

"Here, tie this for me. I'm fumble fingered today."  He stood in front of her patiently as she tied it perfectly. "Damn thing always gives me fits."

She grinned.  "It's a guy thing."

He laughed. "Okay, who's driving, you or me? Me, I guess, since no doubt you two will want to enjoy the rest of the evening."

"No, actually I'm handling the transportation tonight.  Are you ready?" she asked, patting his tie into place and then smoothing the lapel.

"Sure," he said, eying her. "Do I need my heavy coat? It's a bit chilly."

"No, I wouldn't think so," she said looking him over.  "The heat works."  She looked at him for a moment and then said, "Do me a favor, would you?  Close your eyes for a second."

Terry frowned. "You're getting weird, DuBois. But all right, I'll indulge you."  He closed his eyes.

She laughed and took his hand.  "Now hold your breath and tap you heels together three times while I say I wanna go home," she instructed and then zapped them to the townhouse.  "Okay sweetie, you can open your eyes now."

Terry opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Withers standing there with a silver tray. "Good evening," came the dulcet tones of a British cultured accent. "The evening mail, miss," Withers said as he lowered the tray for Betty Jo. "Lord Avery is in the drawing room."

Terry looked around at the elegant foyer and blinked. Then looked at Withers and blinked some more.

"Can I get you something sir? Drinks tray is in the drawing room."

"I, uhm, sure," Terry managed.

Betty Jo took the mail and smiled.  "Thank you Withers." Then she took Terry's arm. "I know it's odd, sweetie, but you'll get used to it.  Come meet the English lord."

Terry heeled as she led him into the drawing room. He took in the ornate fireplace and the carved ceiling and the Aubusson carpet, the antique furniture and finally the Lord sitting in a wing chair with a Waterford brandy snifter in his hand, dressed in a tuxedo.

"Bringing work home with you all ready, darling? I'm that boring?" Ian said, and stood. He was tall after all. And he came forward a hand out in greeting. "Hullo. She's got wretched manners. I'm Ian Blakesley. Nice to meet you."

Betty Jo rolled her eyes and let got of his arm.  "A drink, I think," she said and moved over the to the tray.  She fixed Terry a whiskey and soda and put it in his hand.  "Play nice while I change, Ian.  I didn't warn him so he's a bit more than jet lagged.  In fact," she said, kissing him and heading for the door, "You might be helpful and explain.  He's a bit skeptical of odd."

"Ah. Toddle off, darling, and I'll do my best to show Mr. March here how odd things can get."

"Thanks honey.  I won't be long," she promised as she closed the door.

When she returned, dressed for dinner, she found Ian and Terry thick as thieves chatting about their apparently shared interest in history. Ian looked up as she walked in the door. "Terry has a degree in European History. You didn't tell me that."

"Well he didn't tell me," she offered by way of explanation.  She fixed herself a club soda and took a seat on the couch next to Terry.  "But I conclude that you've reassured him he isn't hallucinating?  Nor has he fallen asleep at his desk."

"We're working on it," Terry replied. "So," he said, as the two men retook their seats once she was sitting down, "you live here. In London. With a Brit. In Britain. And Rimes knows."

"Yes, with a Brit, in Britain, in London and Rimes knows.  He even approves.  You seem surprised," she said, her lips not quite straight.

"I can't imagine why I might find this a bit.... surprising. Although after experiencing your ability to save on time and money with regard to travel I don't know why I find that surprising."

She laughed.  "I apologize, I'll stop teasing you or you'll start think Ian's right and my manners really are wretched.  But you did say you were always up to learning something new."

He grinned. "Well, maybe not so much any more. I've learned my lesson, I think."

"Oh come now," Ian put in. "And you haven't even had dinner yet. Afterwards you can decide throwing our tea in the harbor was the smartest thing you ever did and go home to sleep the sleep of the innocent."

"Nah, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for the world. Totally weird right along with the normalcy of dinner.  It appeals to my sense of the absurd."

"I'm delighted," she said.  "So you'll consider it seriously?"

"What, working for the Zoo?" Terry frowned. "You guys travel like this all the time? Everybody can do it?"

"Well not anybody," she said, frowning.  "Depends on you brain structure.  But yes, working for Rimes.  Handling things when I'm out there."

"And Rimes knows you're offering me this?" Terry asked.

She nodded.  "Of course."

"Might I ask what 'handling things when I'm out there'means exactly?" Ian interrupted, looking with a raised eyebrow at Betty Jo.

"The kind of undercover work I do is a lot like being a covert op for a traditional intel agency like the CIA."  Betty Jo paused and met Ian's eyes for a moment.  Then she said, "When an agent is undercover, especially for a long time, there's someone who acts as the link between them and everything else; whatever contact the agent has with the real world is through this person.  It's a blend I suppose between a cop partnership and the relationship between a true covert op and their handler.  Terry and I worked together like that at DEA.  Part of his job is to handle communications, but it's also to maintain perspective, to know if it's time to pull the plug, because what happens is...well it's like you lose contact with reality, you play a part 24/7 and it can stop being a part in some ways." She paused for another moment, choosing her words.  "If the handler doesn't know what they're doing the agent can get killed and the agent has to trust the handler because that's who gets the SOS call."

"And you trust Terry to do this." Ian said quietly.

She nodded.  "There's no one I'd trust more.  It's why I asked Rimes about hiring him.  The way New Orleans happened -- being both so overt and so straightforward, relatively anyway -- that's unusual."

"Well, then Terry, I beg you to accept the position. I'd like to know there is someone watching over her that she can trust completely."

"I, uhm, it's just a job. It's about, uhm, just... experience," Terry replied, looking slightly worried.

"Well maybe, but if that's the case you do it well," Betty Jo said.  "I rather think it's an art."

There was a knock on the door. It was Withers announcing that dinner was ready.  Ian stood. "Perhaps I can learn a bit more about the ins and outs of undercover work over dinner.  This way please, Terry. I hope you'll find plain English fare edible."

"I'm sure I will." Terry shot a worried look at Betty Jo. He kept thinking there was an undercurrent there he really didn't want to know about.

Betty Jo smiled reassuringly and took his arm.  "It's fine, honey.  Trust me, there's nothing to worry about."

Dinner was hardly basic English fare. It was excellent. Ian and Betty Jo took turns engaging their guest and when the discussion turned to history Ian looked a question at Betty Jo. "Just how much ought I tell him?" Ian asked her.

She laughed and made an expansive gesture.  "Whatever you want, honey.  He can take it."

"I came forward in time, Terry, so I have had personal experience of the time you're interested in. Some time we'll talk."

Terry goggled. "You... came forward in time," he repeated.

"Yes, well, I told you I was a magician. It isn't something I do often. Julian is the expert at it."

"Right, sure," Terry said, shaking his head. "I give up. How can I possibly turn down a chance to see if you guys are hypnotizing me or telling me the honest truth."

Ian was already in bed reading when Betty Jo got back from taking Terry home.  He looked up at her when she came in. "Will he survive it do you think, or will we be visiting him in some padded cell?"

She grinned and sat next to him on the bed.  "He made of sterner stuff than that.  How about you?  Will you survive?"

"That is the question. I had no idea you were expecting to go undercover. Which means, what, you won't be coming home?"

She nodded.  "Unfortunately.  I never thought to say it explicitly, partly because I didn't realize that it might be like it was at DEA.  But after New Orleans..."

"How exactly did New Orleans change things? Neither Leroy nor Billie Jo were undercover."

"Well, the whole cop aspect of things.  I don't think Rimes realized we'd be policing things.  He thought, and we did too, that it would be much more like Blackheath, who investigate and research things but don't get involved otherwise.  However with everything that happened...Grand Isle, the whole thing with Collins and then New Orleans the mandate changed."

"I see."

She met his eyes before saying, "If you ask me not to, I won't."

"And what, that means your sisters would have to instead and without you?"

"They have before, and without me.  Still it's not what I'd prefer."

"Well, this isn't what I'd prefer but then it is your avocation. May I cast a spell, so that I can find you if I need to and so that if you are in trouble I can help?"

"What spell?" she asked slowly.

"Not the one where I knew your every move, that we used when you were off risking your neck in Bhutan. Rather one that can help if you disappear."

"You know, I never minded that you knew my every move.  I didn't feel like it was an intrusion.  If there are things that make it easier for you, so that you worry less, I want you to have that," she said gently.

"And yet you ask nothing of me?"

"Do you think that asking you to keep loving me while living with what I do and the fear of what might happen is asking nothing of you?"

"A bit late to think of that now," he said gently. "Let's look at this the other way round.  What would make your job easier for you and what concession do you feel comfortable with giving to me."

She touched his cheek, tracing his jaw.  "My job is easier if I know you're -- well not comfortable with it, I doubt you'll ever really be that, but that you're okay with it."  She smiled.  "I love you and I want you to have what you need, what makes you feel like you've done everything you can to keep me safe."

"All right. I'll give it some thought then and see what I can come up with. How's that?"

She nodded.  "How can I make this easier for you?"

"It is something I'll have to fight out for myself. It is giving me, however, an entire new understanding of Julian."

"You could always join me working for Rimes."

"Take orders?" he asked, his eyes going wide. "Surely you're joking."

She grinned.  "You're right.  Probably wouldn't work out."

He laughed. "Definitely wouldn't work out. In case your love for me has quite destroyed your reason, I'm not very good at not making my own decisions."

She lifted his book and, marking his place, put it aside.  "No, it hasn't, but there are other things that do, that we could consider and where you could make all the decisions, too, if you'd like."

"Hmmm. Such as?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"Hmmm," she said, kissing him while her hands went searching for his skin.  "Like this, perhaps," she said, tracing her way down his throat with her lips.  "Or this," she suggested a few moments later as she worked her way lower.

"I enjoy this sort of surrender," he said as he buried his face in her hair, and thought off her clothes.

"Is it surrender," she asked, removing his more slowly, "or a well planned diversion prior to total victory?"

"And what total victory am I plotting?" he asked as he moved to lay her down beside him and then ran his hands along the curves of her hips.

She smiled up at him as he looked at her, watching as appreciation changed to desire and arousal.  "Total occupation?" she suggested.

He grinned. "You are an idiot. But I love you."

She laughed softly.  "I love you, too."

It was some time before either had much intelligent to say. They lay afterwards in each other's arms. Betty Jo was half asleep when Ian said, very softly, "I'm not sure I could survive what Marc went through. So please, be careful."

She snuggled closer to him, her arms tightening around him.  "I will.  I've nothing against screaming for help when I need to, just ask Terry.  But I meant it, Ian.  I'll find something else to do if that's what you need me to do."

He toyed with her hair a few moments before saying, "I fell in love with you as who you are. I'm not foolish enough to think to change you. I'll just have to learn to live with what I've got here in my arms."

"It's not trying to change me, darling."

"It isn't? Expecting you to give up a job you love and are good at? That isn't trying to change you?"

"Well first you aren't expecting it," she said raising up on an elbow to see his face.  "More importantly, or so it seems to me, I'm saying I love you more than the job.  And finally, I trust you to not do it if there's any other way."

"And I thank you for that. If you leave the job it will only be because that is what you want. I will find a way to ease my worry and keep you if not safe, at least safer. And I'm very glad to have met Terry who will also help to keep you safe."

"I'm glad," she said, before kissing him, lingering over it.  "Feel free to get to know him."

"Oh, I will. Intimately."  At her look he just smiled.

She raised an eyebrow, considering him, and then she smiled at him, settling back against his chest.  "Good."