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Katrina sighed and rubbed her temples. “Brothers,” she muttered, then added out loud, “Sorry again. Now, where were we?”

Nigel Banks waved his hand at her apology as he took his seat under the sixteenth president once again. “No need. I believe you were about to ask me a favor.”

“That transparent am I,” Katrina sighed. She had been trying to be professional about this, but Zephyr had completely ruined her composure. “I suppose I'll just cut to the chase then. All this research I've been helping the students with, you know, foreign relations and China? I just can't help but think that the pending war between China and Russia is going to end up pulling in a lot of other countries. It could very well spiral into a world war.”

Nigel sat with his two forefingers pressed thoughtfully against his lips as he listened.

Katrina continued, this was coming out more like rambling and less like the eloquent speech she had planned, “Is there anything you can do to prevent the war? I mean, could you apply pressure to either side to keep them into not fighting? Could you threaten to stop trade with them? You're in a position to at least talk to the leaders, maybe that's all they need. Or talk to their allies, to ensure that they don't join in or loan soldiers or guns or anything like that.” Katrina trailed off. She was done now, he at least had heard her case.

Nigel sat in silence for a moment, his fingers still pressed to his lips as his mind digested what she said, “Hmm,” came his thoughtful reply as the wheels in his mind turned. He would love to help her, but his true loyalty laid deeply planted in his mind and that loyalty was above all to Hunter Antonescue. He knew that Hunter had laid plans for supplying arms to a group of Chinese mutant revolutionaries earlier in the year, but since then the immortal's interests seemed to have drifted elsewhere. Perhaps there was a way that the president could do both.

“I'll have to think on it, Katrina. I'll also have to discuss it with my advisors and anything I try will take time.”

“I understand,” Katrina bowed her head in thanks, “Thank you for even considering it. Anything you can do will help.”

Nigel smiled. He would try, he really would.

(With special guest appearance: Zephyr, played by himself.)

“Hello, Zephyr? What's up?” She tried to keep her tone casual, as if he wasn't interrupting a meeting in the oval office.

Zephyr paused a moment before he spoke, "Who is this? Where's Antonescue?"

A small frown tugged at one corner of Katrina's mouth. She paused for an instant, slightly taken aback by his strange method of saying hello. “This is Katrina, I'm not sure exactly where he is.” Was it possible he dialed the wrong phone number? Why hadn't he recognized her, he had dialed her phone number after all. From the opposite chair, Nigel Banks gave her a curious look, then stood and moved over to his own desk so he could rustle through some papers and pretend not to listen. A bill from the House of Representatives about tax breaks for parents with mutant children had its pages rearranged into an order that made slightly less sense than before.

There was a pause, and then a slight note of surprise in Zephyr's voice that mirrored her own, "Katrina? Katrina Dumonde? Who gave you this number?”

The young illusionist was really confused now and hoping it wasn't showing on her face. She was still doing her best to present a facade of confidentiality for the air elemental, whom she was beginning to suspect had drank too much before dialing her number. What on earth or in the sky was he talking about?

“Yes,” she answered carefully, of course she was Katrina Dumonde, and probably would be for quite awhile, unless Slate got it into his head to propose. She paused for a moment and tried to phrase the rest of her answer in a way that wouldn't completely compromise Zephyr's privacy, “You gave it to me, ages ago. But you called me, is there anything I can do for you?”

There was another pause as the elemental seemed to weigh her response, "I gave it to you?- nevermind, I have a few issues to discuss with Hunter and my patience is running thin."

Katrina glanced over to where the sandy haired man was politely toying with his presidential pen, “Well, I've got Nigel here and I could give you Hunter's number if you don't already have it. What do you need, what's going on?”

Nigel's eyebrow arched at mention of Hunter's name walked casually over to where Katrina was still sitting. He bent and whispered, “Antonescue's out of the country and shouldn't be bothered right now.” That statement, of course, made Katrina wonder what sorts of delicate business her adoptive father was currently conducting. She could find out, but probably couldn't get the information out of Nigel. She was more likely to hear about it from Hunter himself, but only after the fact. There were, of course, other ways to go about getting the information, but she didn't have them at her fingertips at the moment.

From the other end of the line she heard an exasperated sigh, "Evans and I- wait what's Banks doing with you? Where are you?"

Katrina's brow twitched upwards. Why would he call Tris by her maiden name? Something was definitely odd about this situation and it was seeming less and less like a drunk dialing and more and more like Zephyr actually needed something, “We're in his office, discussing foreign affairs. But, what do you mean Evans? You haven't called her that for years. Oh- and Nigel says Hunter's out of the country on some sort of shady business that I'm not supposed to know anything about.”

Katrina gave an impish grin at Nigel and stuck out her tongue. She knew much more about Hunter's brand of shady business than most people, since she was so close to him. He, in turn, knew quite a bit about about her and her powers, but not as much about what she did with the money he gave her for her special projects. For the most part he seemed content to know that it went to help run the school she and Slate had helped to found. He did not know that the “staff development” money was channeled into other areas.

Nigel Banks shook his head as he wandered back to his ancient mahogany desk. Despite her grown up disguise, Katrina was still very much like the playful little girl he had met eleven years ago who liked to hang out in Mondragon Lab's break room, eat Neapolitan ice cream, and face off against Percy and Artemis at the ping-pong table. She was probably the only person in the country who could get away with sticking her tongue out at the president. Except for maybe the parasitic boss-man, though he probably wouldn't stoop to such immature antics. Nigel had a hard time imagining the serious minded vampire sticking his tongue out at anyone.

Katrina could practically feel the force of Zephyr's frown over the phone line, "Like hell he is, that bloody parasite... and I suppose Banks won't give me an exact location will he? Damn it, what about Ingram?"

Bloody parasite? Like he was one to talk, “Such language Dio! Anyway, I'm sure he won't tell you while I'm here. He probably doesn't even know himself. It's not like Hunter's got a curfew or anything. I mean, he's a little old for one.” What was it that he wanted anyway, and why did he keep treating her like a doormat in front of Hunter's stoop?

"Katrina, I don't know how much your aware of concerning Hunter but this isn't something I want you involved with, now do you know who or where Dr. Ingram is?" So that's the way it was going to be, was it? Screw stupid air elementals and their confidentiality. What did she care if Nigel and his white house staff knew what Zephyr was dealing with? They were all in the same pocket anyway.

Katrina rolled her eyes, “You don't always have to protect me Zephyr. I'm grown up now and I can take care of myself. As for Ingram, he's probably where he always is- in the lab. Not that it will help you, I don't think you're going to be able to find Hunter if he doesn't want to be found. It sounds like...” she was going to say in trouble, but changed her mind, “I mean, is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to come to DC and talk about it?”

It was becoming apparent that something was wrong, and it wasn't just that Zephyr was being rude. She just couldn't figure out what it was. She was trying to keep civil, but her patience was wearing and worrying about him wasn't helping. He was a big boy; what did he need Hunter for so badly, and why wasn't she good enough to help him? She certainly cared more about him than the pony tailed immortal did.

Another agravated sigh from Zephyr's end, "You've got a long way to go before you're old enough to look after yourself Kat and unless you've suddenly developed a healing ability I doubt you can help me much at the moment. I need Ingram because I can trust him to keep his mouth shut, now are you certain Hunter hasn't taken Ingram with him?"

Katrina felt like adopting one of Zephyr's trademark sighs herself, but she let the comment about her age pass without comment. It sounded like there were more important issues to deal with, “I have no idea if Hunter took Ingram with him. I'm not supposed to know about any of the shady business, remember? If you need a healer that bad, you should go to Pax and see Sebastian,” she was really worried now, “Actually, where are you? I'll call him and have him go to where ever you are.”

From across the room, Nigel gave a nonchalant shrug to signal he didn't know either. Then he went back to rearranging his freshly sharpened presidential pencils. He didn't show any reaction to the statement about the healer. That wasn't any of his business, most likely. But if he and Tris were expecting, he was sure he'd hear about it when they wanted to officially announce the news.

The elemental vampire sounded genuinely puzzled, "Pax? What is that a clinic? And who's Sebastian? Listen Katrina, this isn't something I can take to a public institution. If I could actually get in touch with the labs I would have taken Evans there already."

What was he playing at, why was he not remembering these simple details? With a slight tone of impatience creeping into her voice Katrina responded, “Pax is the school where I teach. Sebastian is the headmaster- he's a healer. What happened to Tris? And what happened to you? You're acting really odd, did you hit your head or something?” And why couldn't he take her to a hospital if she needed to go to one? “Tell me where you are so I can send you the healer you need for Tris.”

Nigel sat with a professional indifference, but Katrina wondered if he wasn't actually straining himself to hear Zephyr's half of the conversation as well. He certainly would never be absentmindedly spinning that globe if his brain wasn't preoccupied with something.

Disbelief dripped off of Zephyr's next words, "Katrina I'm in no mood for games, I'm fine but Evans could stand to have someone look at her, now if you actually know someone who can help I'm at my apartment in New York."

“Okay then,” her tone was just a bit snippy. She wasn't the one playing games and treating people like they were twelve again. “I'll send Sebastian right over. If you're going to pretend not to recognize him, he's the one with the white horn growing out of his head. Anything else? Because I'll need to hang up to dial him.” Red rover, red rover. Maybe she was playing games after all.

Zephyr's response was just as snippy, "Fine send him over, I hope he can do something.” As an afterthought he added, “In most cases an address is useful or do you have that as well?"

"I'll do that, and I know where you live, airhead," the conversation had devolved into a sibling spat and Katrina was not too mature to throw in an insult at the end. He deserved it.

"Well that's just great, here wait let me guess can you see dead people too?" Katrina's eyes narrowed and she glared, not at Zephyr, but at Abraham Lincoln. Her big brother wasn't there, so Abe would have to do.

“Haha, funny," it wasn't really. "Bye then," she snapped and hung up the phone.

Hans drove the limousine through the front gates of the white house and around the side to the garage. It wasn't quite a secret entrance, but it didn't involve the same tedious rigmarole that normal visitors would get. Certainly Katrina needed to pass through certain security checks, but somehow it didn't seem quite as scary when it was Frank Newton waving the electronic wand over her and Noin Mortman's nine fingers that typed the relevant visitor information into her small portable computer. Within minutes, the white house secretary was handing her a visitor's pass with her picture on it. Katrina smiled her thank yous and hugged both Hans and Noin goodbye before Frank ushered her away up a staircase that led, eventually to the oval office.

On either side of the door to the office stood official looking guards. Their name tags read “Percy Ferrel” and “Edward Song”. Their officialness was marred only slightly by small smiles as Katrina walked past through the door and into what was perhaps the most famous office in the world. She smiled back.

Someone closed the door behind her, and Katrina stood on the eagle crest rug in the center of the round room, with only a desk separating her from a handsome man whose sandy hair was just beginning to turn ashen at the temples, the President of the United States, Nigel Banks.

(Were, let me know if anything needs changing!)

Katrina woke up very early the next morning, unable to fall back asleep no matter how long she lay with her head on the pillow. It seemed like her furry companion in the next bed over was not having such difficulties, but then, the lioness wasn't jet lagged.

Since there was no use wasting time lying awake, the young woman got up and made her way to the shower as carefully as possible, in case her roommate was a light sleeper. Hopefully the white noise of the water running wouldn't disturb her either. Carefully, Katrina grabbed clean undergarments from her own bag. Bleach white towels were already waiting, folded on the shelf over the toilet just like they were in countless hotels all over the world. Walking past the hand washing sink into the separated shower area, Katrina noticed that Sara had made herself at home on one side of the sink, leaving the other side for the illusionist's toothbrush and other toiletries she hadn't bothered to unpack before collapsing into the bed the previous day.

Among the lioness' possessions, the well used locket was carefully laid out with the thin chain arranged in a straight, orderly line. The jet lagged woman was struck with inspiration. Mending the illusion would be the perfect project for her sleepless morning. Carefully, she slipped the necklace around her own neck where it would be able to rest against her skin during her shower.

Permanent illusions, such as the one within WereCat's necklace actually needed regular maintenance to ensure that the illusion did not wear out. There was really nothing permanent about them, it was just easier to call them that in her own mind. In reality, they were normal illusions that were anchored to an object by a small bit of Katrina's own DNA, such as the small hair currently coiled inside this necklace. The illusion that was anchored there was no different than an illusion produced for a live audience, except for the fact that it was spread thinner, over a larger amount of time. The amount of time and energy that she put into anchoring the intended images onto an object determined how strong the illusion would be and how long it would last.

Generally the illusions were about half as strong as normal, meaning that someone who had practice seeing through her visual tricks would not need as much practice or concentration to see through to the reality. For someone like herself or Slate who were very well practiced with discerning reality behind the images, permanent illusions could look faded out as if they were only overlapping reality by a quarter rather than a half, which was the usual. She had found that by spending more time focusing her energy into the so-called permanent illusions she could make them almost as strong as the real thing, or even stronger, but it took so much planning, so much time, and so much effort all around that she hardly ever did it.

But back to maintenance. All of the permanent illusions required routine maintenance or touch ups to make sure that the original illusion didn't wear out. With a little more time and a little more effort, they were good as new again. Ideally, she could do this regularly, simply by touching the anchor object each time she met with its owner and concentrating on what the illusions was supposed to be like for just a few moments. In the end, all those moments would compile and leave her illusions strong and whole. It was easy with Slate's clothing illusion, since she saw him all the time. With Were, though, it was more difficult to schedule regular meetings and it left the poor lioness with cat eyes and hair poking out of her illusionary ears and Katrina with longer sessions of illusion restoration.

As she let the water run over her body, the locket rested comfortably against her chest. She cleared her mind of any thoughts and worries that might get in the way of her concentration. It was necessary to focus solely on the task at hand. Interruption from stray thoughts could ruin her concentration and cause inconsistencies in the image. For example, if she worried about how Slate was doing on his own back in China, Sara might very well end up with a slightly Hungarian nose... but only when viewed from a certain angle and in certain lighting. Her eyes may flash with baby blue when she was thinking deeply. Or her hair might end up with a certain tousled look that not even a comb could cure.

She focused her thought completely on the image of the blonde Sara that WereCat so wanted to be. She imagined her long hair cascading down her back, imagined it saying slightly as she walked, imagined the way it shone in the sunlight or reflected back soft candlelight. She remembered the amber lioness eyes and shaped them to look human, slightly almond shaped with crinkles at the corners when she smiled. There were small green flecks in them, because Katrina had thought it would be pretty. The flecks were imperfect, or at least not quite symmetrical, to account for imperfections inherent in human faces. As she ran the free bar of soap over her own body, she imagined every graceful curve of Sara's form, including everything between her toenails and the tips of her golden hair.

It was a good thing that the hotel didn't have a shortage of hot water.

Katrina shuddered a little bit at the mention of the fledgling vampire. He still creeped her out, more so than any of the other vampires ever had. It might have something to do with the fact that he was the only one who had ever tried to eat her.

“I'm glad they are safe, at least.”

>>>“Iris and I went to the colony in Antarctica and the future looks promising between us and them. The most difficult part of the journey was getting the blood test from me.”

Ah, that was a good thing. Katrina gave a nod of approval to that. It would be very good to have a place for the Pax students to go and see mutants working together to use their powers. Having ties in the colony could also be useful in any number of political situations.

Her nodding was cut short when they pulled their way dangerously into an intersection, cutting off another driver who was attempting to be rude. Katrina grabbed the handle on the door to stabilize herself during sudden jostling movement and turned to stare wide eyed at the truck whose brakes were squealing. Luckily, the truck was able to stop before hitting anyone.

Okay, she was definitely awake now. WereCat continued as if nothing out the ordinary had happened,
>>>“How did your mission go?”

“Well, we're still going on it. The students seem to be doing well working together and problem solving. I'm not sure if things are getting much better, though. Helping the refugees is a good start, but sometimes I feel as though we aren't actually having an impact on the leaders. It is very difficult to change anyone's mind when they seem to have it set so firmly. Sometimes I wish just talking to the leaders of the world could make a difference. Maybe, just maybe we could make them see reason.”

They seemed to be getting nearer to their destination. In any case, they seemed to have reached the area where all the hotels were clustered and where lots of the small houses mixed in had bed and breakfast signs in the front yard. Thank goodness, she could really use a nap.

She wasn't analyzing him so much as trying to learn more about him. Any feeling he was getting of being grilled was purely unintentional on Claire's part. He seemed to be an interesting person; humorous, kind, and full of entertaining stories. Bravery seemed to come natural to him as well. He wasn't scared off by bank robbers, terrorists, or women with children.

>>>"Well I don't have any family to worry about me. My parents died several years ago while I was still in the army so basically my brothers in the military and then my brothers on S.W.A.T. are all the family I got."

Claire nodded. He didn't seem to be traumatized or anything. She would think it was lonely though, to live completely on your own. She had done it for about six months and had ended up spending hours at coffee shops listening to other people talking just to get her fill of human company. There was no shortage of that at the school, of course. Now she just longed to talk to other grownups once in awhile. Maybe his loneliness was the motive for smashing into their cart- so he could have someone to talk to. Claire mentally shook her head at herself. Nah, now that was just silly.

“My folks are long gone, too,” she added, “back when I was in college.”

>>>"Of course I have better things to do than invite trouble." ... "I'd much rather be standing here chatting with a beautiful woman, and low and behold I am. No attracting trouble, just two single people sharing some conversation."

Apparently it was his turn to tease her now. And compliment her. Well, if that was the way it was going to be...

Claire smiled coyly, “And how do you know that you haven't attracted trouble after all?” Emphasis on the attracted part. Was she really flirting with him? She could hardly believe herself. Hopefully she wasn't too out of practice.

I shall try. This weekend!