Dr. Alex Anderson was wrapping up his clinic tour for the CEO of Avila Encryption, the company that was funding the Foundation’s new research fellowship, which was slated to be announced at a small press event in two days’ time. Avila’s outreach manager had given Alex carte blanche to choose whichever candidate he thought was most prepared and passionate. They had considered a number of residents at Johns Hopkins, but in the end, Alex and the board had unanimously decided on the most qualified and talented candidate for the award without much discussion-- he was head and shoulders above the rest of the applicants.

Alex had been sitting on the news for two weeks. It was killing him not to tell Andie about it, but the Avila guy had come all the way from Portland to be there for the announcement of the fellowship, so Alex had to wait. Informing Andie that he was being offered the fellowship was tomorrow’s event, and the presser was the day after that. Today was just the tour, which had been going well. For the owner-slash-CEO of a company sustained by massive Intelligence Community contracts, the dude seemed like a nice enough guy. Down-to-earth.

Clinic tours were old hat for Alex by now– just part of being Director. He had the routine down pat. “So, in-clinic, we offer counseling services and see patients who are seeking claim reversal or just information about claim reversal. We are also able to refer patients over to the legal clinic for services as needed, and sometimes, they need to refer their legal clients to us. We’ve tried to create a sort of ecosystem of services for Omegas. We also consult on claim reversal cases for other physicians and have a residency program. Now, thanks to our current resident, the one we’ve recommended for the fellowship, we’ve added an educational outreach program. We've started talking to high school kids in our area about the psychology and physiology of claims and providing curricula for other healthcare providers to visit schools in their own areas-- that program was built from the ground up by Dr. Freeman before he even got to us.”

Alex gestured towards the door to his office, inviting his guest inside. “Dr. Freeman started that program while he was still an undergrad, actually. He double-majored in education and biology at Vanderbilt. His initial plan was to become a teacher, but after he started the outreach program, which was funded by an AAF grant, he pivoted. Fortunately, he took the MCAT and applied to med school. Graduated first in his class here at Johns Hopkins, which, you know, leaves me in the dust. He’s doing the third year of his endocrinology residency with us right now. If he accepts the fellowship, he’ll stay another two years. Personally, I would really love for him to stay here with us permanently because he’s great. Dr. Freeman’s especially talented and insightful in terms of his research. Of course, if he ultimately decided to head up a new claim-reversal clinic in an underserved area, that would be fantastic, too. Omegas can’t lose with Dr. Freeman in their corner— he’s got a fire in his belly for this work.”

“Sounds like it,” said Jacob Rivera with a friendly smile. “He was like a lucky find, huh? I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“Very lucky,” Alex confirmed. “So, I think that wraps it up for the clinic end of the tour. Should we head over to the Legal Fund offices? My husband is the director, and he’ll be happy to tell you more about that side of the AAF.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for the tour. I enjoyed this. Seems like you’re set up to make a huge difference in a lot of people’s lives,” said the donor that Alex’s mother had ordered him to impress.

Alex smiled, thinking that he had carried out this Funding & Development mission successfully. “We’re trying to, yeah,” he confirmed humbly. “But we’ve got a long way to go. Ok. The front doors are back this way.” He gestured to the hall that led to security and the clinic exit.

About ten minutes after Alex and Jake Rivera left the building, Andie Freeman came back over from the hospital, where he’d been checking on one of his patients. The patient was an Omega who had just had two scent glands removed and several others biopsied. She’d also had two tissue expanders placed near the excision sites to create new skin that would be used to replace the bite-scarred skin slated to be removed in the next surgery.

It had been an outpatient procedure, so Andie’s patient would be heading home in about an hour when she was a little more alert. She’d seemed to be in really good spirits when Andie had checked on her in Recovery, which had put Andie in a good mood. He had all his fingers and toes crossed that the biopsies would come back clear, which would mean she was over the worst part of the reversal protocol. If not, they’d have to repeat this process one more time for the other affected glands.

This patient had come in a little more than three months after the unwanted claim occurred, so it wasn’t as straightforward a case as Andie would’ve liked. They’d get everything taken care of for her, with this procedure or the next. Then, she’d be able to live a more or less totally normal life, free of the claiming Alpha’s pheromones and their side effects.

As he passed through Security and came to the clinic’s front desk, Andie took a big whiff of the air and noticed that it smelled like something much better than rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. He grinned. “Teneisha! Did you finally do it? It smells like heaven in here!”

Teneisha Haynes, the clinic's head nurse, patient soother, doctor wrangler, and benevolent dictator, gave Andie a half-smile and an eye roll. “What you are smelling right now is the scent of money being burned. Four hundred dollar bills. For a candle! I am telling you right now that pharmaceutical companies are pure, concentrated capitalist evil. When I looked that thing up online after the drug rep dropped it off at Christmas, I fell out. Four hundred dollars for a candle! That is a shame! Does that woman know how many doses of suppressant that candle could have paid for instead? Well, anyway, I figured if I was going to burn the damned thing, it was going to be in service of a good cause— perfuming the air and keeping Mr. Moneybags feeling generous.”

“Who was this guy again?”

“CEO of some software company that gave a big matching donation for a hospital fellowship. I was with a patient going over some of the literature and getting him set up for his initial appointment with Liza, so I didn’t really get to meet him. I did see him when he came in, though.”

“Ooooh. And was he Candle-worthy? What was he like? Snooty? Flashy suit? Conspicuously expensive watch? Well, this is a software company… so…. Patagonia vest and Allbirds sneakers and conspicuously expensive watch?”

Teneisha gave Andie a wicked grin. “Well, now... I wasn’t going to tell you this since you missed him. I hate to brag,” she said, mock-buffing her nails on her scrub top.

Andie rolled his eyes. “You do not hate to brag. So go right ahead and tell me and enjoy it.”

Teneisha laughed. “I know that’s right. Well, let me tell you up front that I have no idea what he was wearing because I was looking at his face. He was young, and he was tall, and he was pret-ty. Broadest shoulders and whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. You missed out.”

Andie didn’t actually give a shit about big-shouldered, good-looking Alphas. He hadn’t let an Alpha get farther than a handshake with him in over twelve years, and he wasn’t planning to start any time soon. He was what he liked to refer to as a ‘sperm vegan’— Alphas of any gender and Beta males were off the menu. Not worth the trouble when he had other options. Teneisha was having fun, though, so he played along. “I think I’m supposed to join this guy and Alex for lunch tomorrow to help sell him on the clinic, so I guess I will get to enjoy the view.” He stuck out his tongue at Teneisha to convey a not-very-dignified nyah-nyah. “Thank you for the heads-up, though. Don’t want to drool on myself.”

Teneisha gave her colleague a superior look. “Mm-hmm. Keep on laughing at me. You’ll see. Your tongue’s gonna be hanging out tomorrow, too. You are not even going to taste the food you put in your mouth at that lunch, I’m telling you.”

Not likely, Andie thought. Looking for a change of subject, he reached over the reception desk, picked up the extravagant candle, and took a sniff. It smelled very good up close but somehow even better diffused in the room. He sniffed the air again and sighed. “I hate to say it, Teneisha, but I think this thing might actually smell at least two hundred dollars worth of good. What is that? Cedar? It's yummy. Maybe not four hundred, though.”

“Give me that thing. I better put it out. Probably costs ten dollars a minute to burn. Gotta save it for the next tour.” Teneisha blew out the candle and set it down to cool as a few last, luxuriously scented wisps of scent spread throughout the room. “I hope he didn’t recognize the smell. I’d be so mortified if he thought we spent that kind of money out of our budget.”

Andie scrunched his nose doubtfully. “In my experience, tech folk are not huge luxury scented candle aficionados, so I think we’re good.”

“I hope you’re right. Four hundred dollars for some wax, a string, and a little essential oil. I should start making candles myself and retire early.”

Andie widened his eyes in theatrical horror and held up two palms in protest. “No, absolutely do not do that. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

With a derisive sound, Teneisha flicked a few stray silvered braids back over her shoulder. She took a plastic lighter out of the pocket of her imperial-purple scrubs and replaced it in a drawer in her desk. “In the sense that this place would not function without me? You’re right.” She softened her pronouncement with a wink.

“No doubt. If anyone around here deserves the smell of a four hundred dollar candle, it’s you. Forget the donors. Light it whenever you feel like it,” Andie advised. His stomach rumbled, and he tacked on, “Hey, you wanna go to the cafeteria and get a bite with me in a little while? My turn to treat, I think? I'm starving– I've been here since five this morning. I'll catch you up on how Madison's excision went while we walk.”

"Sounds good," Teneisha agreed. "It went well? Good. I like her."

"Yeah, I think so. She was doing well in recovery. Pretty cheerful. Her biopsies will tell the whole story, obviously, but I think we might have gotten everything wrapped up for her. Hope so. I like her, too."