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"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." -- George Santayana

"I've got news for Mr. Santayana: We're doomed to repeat the past no matter what. That's what it is to be alive." -- Kurt Vonnegut

"Can I help you?"

The handsome river otter pivoted quickly, his eyes open wide, as if being caught doing something far more sinister than knocking on a professor's office door. He quite visibly caught his breath, arms lifting slightly as if expecting to ward off a blow.

"Didn't mean to put your wind up," the Husky said softly. She backed up a step, her forepaws in a placating gesture. "I was just going to say, Professor Spenser isn't here at the moment. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'm sorry." The look in the otter's eyes was so forlorn that the apology took on depths it wouldn't ordinarily. "I was just... I'd hoped..." The young male coughed into a forepaw, gathered himself, managed a small smile. "I had some questions for him. Nothing that can't wait."

"You're Jerry Bunting, I believe?" She stuck out a paw in greeting. "Buniq Lightfoot. I'm Dr. Wind Runner's assistant. We've never really had the chance to meet."

"Except for some salted caramel cocoa." The smile widened slightly as he gently shook her paw. "Cocoa's delivery service. I wasn't exactly in the mood to laugh at the time, but the joke was appreciated."

"I do what I can. It helps to keep a sense of humor in the academic world." She paused, then asked, "If there's anything I can do to help...? Is it something academic?"

"Ah... no, actually, it's more personal." Despite his attempts to keep his bearing, the otter radiated a blush in his small round ears and under the short golden fur on his cheeks. "Perhaps I could wait for him, if you happen to know...?"

"I think he was called to the Dean's office a little while ago. On his way out the door, he called to the general staff that he wasn't sure when he'd be back." Buniq considered for a moment. "He hasn't cancelled his morning class or anything, so he's likely to be in tomorrow. Will that help?"

The smile, no less troubled, was at least offset by the sincerity of his comment. "You're very kind... Buniq, is it?"

"Yes."

"Unusual name."

"Inuit. It means 'sweet daughter,' and I suppose only my mother could say if it fits." She grinned at the otter, who shuffled his hindpaws a bit self-consciously. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward. It's just... well, when I saw you last, you seemed troubled. I'd like to help, if I can."

"You have a kind heart."

"All mush and yard wide."

Perhaps in spite of himself, Jerry managed a good chuckle. "I think I needed that," he said, smiling. "Thank you. I'll leave a message on his voicemail." Glancing past the Husky, he nodded down the hall. "I think someone else may be looking for someone."

Buniq glanced around and frowned.Someone or something, she thought, as the young female ocelot brazenly searched through the papers on Buniq's desk. Approaching hastily, the Husky addressed the audacious kit sharply. "May I help you?"

Unabashed, the feline turned calm golden eyes upon the student assistant. "I'm looking for Professor Spenser."

Snatching papers from the ocelot's paw, Buniq replied, "Professor Spenser is a bright crimson dragon who stands some two and a quarter meters tall. If he were on my desk, I think you'd have noticed him. And these papers are private."

"In plain sight," the kit smirked. "Fair game. Ask any cop."

"I may do just that. What do you want?"

"Professor Spenser. Is he in his office?"

The arrogant intruder took a step toward the hallway, but Buniq moved swiftly to block her. Considering her superior height and significantly more muscular build, she doubted that there would be much chance of the upstart starting any sort of fight. "No, he's not. If you'd care to leave your name..."

"Rhonda Shelton, Campus Newswatch." She stood gazing at the Husky for a moment, waiting for some response, either to her presumed privilege or her imagined fame. The canine kept her face impassive, refusing to give her the satisfaction. The kit's face fell for a brief moment even as the twitching of her tail betrayed her adopted sang-froid even more effectively. "I'm here to get some answers about Zachary Parker."

"I don't understand."

"You don't know what happened at the football game last Friday?"

"Only what I read from legitimate news sources."

Buniq exercised all her control not to smirk at the sight of the ocelot's neck fur bristling at the insult. Regaining herself a bit, Rhonda renewed her attack. "My sources say that Spenser is supposed to be appointed Parker's counselor, and I've got some questions for the Professor. Where is he?"

"I believe he's with the Dean of Students, if you'd like to try there. Or you could leave a_polite_ message for him. I'll see that he gets it."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll get it." The ocelot's eyes narrowed as she ground out the words through a nearly-closed muzzle. "Tell him that he won't be so lucky this time."

By this time, the Husky was becoming annoyed enough to raise her voice. "Are you making threats, Miss Shelton?"

"Just telling the truth. The professor has quite a reputation."

"Yes, he does. Multiple national teaching awards, a great number of scholarly publications, a few textbooks, and an exceptional quantity of praise from faculty and students alike."

"Especially the young males."

Buniq felt the anger try to rise in her veins. "Would you care to be more specific, or are you aware of the concept of slander after all?"

The reporter smirked, her ears folding back slightly as she snarled, "It's not slander if it's the truth. Everyone knows, but no one does anything about it. Twenty-four years ago, there wasn't enough proof, but this time..."

"What happened twenty-four years ago?"

"Character assassination," said a new voice.

Husky and ocelot turned to see the cremello-colored mare standing tall, her face stern, her ordinarily soft pastel blue eyes flashing sparks of barely-contained anger as her forepaws reached for the telephone and sharply punched out a number.

"Who are..." the reporter began.

"Dr. Bittner," the mare said into the phone. "Cory Wind Runner, Department of English. I have one of your so-called reporters here who is about to make even more a mockery of the Fourth Estate than it's already done to itself." She looked to the ocelot. "Name?"

The reporter seeming to have lost her tongue, Buniq supplied, "Rhonda Shelton."

Apparently, the person on the other end of the phone heard the Husky's answer. A groan could be heard through the receiver, followed by a few words that could have been "Put her on." Cory passed the phone over, and the ocelot took it with trepidation. Both teacher and assistant waited patiently while the student reporter got a blistering earful that lasted nearly a full minute before ending with a sudden and portent-heavy click. The kit replaced the handset to its cradle, then turned her venomous look upon the two of them.

"This isn't over. The public has a right to know!"

The doctor nickered softly. "The same could be said of communicable diseases."

The ocelot's vocabulary was reduced to a vicious spit and a momentary baring of claws before she pivoted on her hindpads and stormed out of the office, tail whipping up its own furious expletives.

Cory nodded with some satisfaction. "I'm fairly sure that the university rules would categorize that as a threat, if not something closer to assault, even without the physical contact."

"I'll bear witness." Buniq tried to grin, but her muzzle didn't quite respond the way that she had anticipated. She half-fell against the desk, propping herself up even as the mare grasped her arm to keep her from collapsing.

"Steady the buffs, lass," Cory soothed. "Not every day you get attacked at your own job. C'mon, into my office."

"I'll be..."

"You'll be a good pup and come sit down a minute." The mare pulled her gently in the direction of her office, and Buniq began to move with her. "If you notice very carefully, I'm shaking a bit myself."

The Husky was more aware of her own nervous reaction, surprised at herself for seeming so fragile. She had survived far more than a verbal (or non-verbal) attack; falling through thin ice into freezing water is no joke, and neither is the recovery from such a shock to the body. There was something so personal in the ocelot's aggression that it caught her completely off guard, and shock is a physical response even if the stimulus itself wasn't physical.

In the professor's office, Buniq let herself be ensconced on the very comfortable sofa, taking the teacher's advice to take several deep breaths to calm herself. Cory checked the outer office, made sure there was someone to watch the front for a few minutes, and returned to her office, settling herself on the sofa as well. The mare took a few deep breaths of her own before asking, "How are you feeling now?"

"Better, thank you." She puffed her cheeks with an outgoing breath and shook her head. "What was that all about?"

Cory shook her head, the white-gold mane dancing about her head and neck. "Muckraking, in its most original form. Benedict warned us about this at the staff meeting this morning; it didn't occur to us to let our assistants in on it. Our mistake. Let me start by asking if you've heard about the incident at the football game this past Friday."

"Difficult not to," Buniq observed. "Was that reporter right - that Parker is supposed to have counseling with Professor Spenser?"

"Exactly. He's fully qualified and licensed, and he's helped the university in that capacity before."

The Husky made the connection. "Twenty-four years ago."

Cory nodded again. "The whole fracas happened during my freshman year here. I was involved in some of the student protests, on the side supporting Professor Spenser. I did so because I thought he was right... and also because I had a bit of a crush on him." The mare nickered a soft chuckle. "Sounds like a contradiction in terms, doesn't it? The whole controversy was about his being openly gay, and here's an impressionable young mare falling tail over turnip patch for him."

The assistant grinned a little self-consciously as the professor continued. "Not to worry. It was a deeply emotional crush, but I never seemed to have the idea of wanting to be sexual with him. Truth told, an emotionally secure gay male is a magnificent companion for a female who wants heartfelt intimacy without the confusion of sexuality getting in the way. Given my age, my major, my intellect, and my own sexual ambivalence, Benedict was an outstandingly good choice to fall for."

Passing a paw over the back of her neck, Buniq laughed. "I guess I'd have to agree."

"WTMI?" the mare grinned.

"Just more than I expected. You're right out front, doc."

"I'm going to ask a serious question now, Buniq, and I need an honest answer." The teacher's eyes held her steadily. "Have I made you feel uncomfortable or threatened in any way?"

"No," the Husky said, somewhat surprised at the question. She considered for a moment, then nodded. "I think I understand," she murmured. "No, Dr. Wind Runner, I feel just fine. Thank you for asking."

"I trust you'll tell me if I do go too far?"

"If it's okay for me to say... I trust you, and I don't think you'd ever go too far." She smiled. "You'd better be careful; I'm known to be a terrific hugger."

"Warning noted!" Cory laughed, then became more serious. "You might have already guessed what happened with Benedict, although not the way you might think. It wasn't a student who accused him of misconduct; it was the student's parents."

"A male student, I'm guessing?"

"Wendell Jefferson, a serval cat from a very tough background, striving against all odds for a doctorate in medical research science. His parents were, to put it mildly, ultra-conservative in their views, including religious beliefs that disapproved of many aspects of science, including cosmology, evolution, and medicine. They did little to help him; story goes that they didn't even go to his undergrad commencement. He existed entirely on grants and student loans, working as a lab assistant, burning the candle at both ends, as Edna St. Vincent Millay told us.

"I don't have all the details, and some of what I know may be wrong." Cory paused, reflecting. "In brief, the kit had a breakdown - part exhaustion, part stress from some other source. At the risk of sounding like I'm spreading gossip, my best guess is that he was discovering his attraction to males, and all of his learning and emotions were warring with his upbringing. Whatever the case, Wendell came to confide in a young, newly-appointed Associate Dean of Students named Nelson Williamson. Benedict had been Nelson's mentor, and as I've mentioned, he had been a licensed counselor for years, so Nelson asked for Benedict's help."

"To invoke a famous movie quote, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What, specifically?"

Buniq squirmed a little as she realized that she probably was giving the wrong impression. "Nothing about Professor Spenser. I mean..." She struggled a moment. "I can't believe that he would take advantage of a student, but I'm assuming that he wasn't closeted at this point?"

The mare nickered in amusement. "I doubt that Benedict was ever in the closet. He's much too... himself for that."

Chuckling, the Husky nodded. "That's a good way of putting it!" She sobered again, considering. "I think I can guess what happened."

"Wendell told his parents, after they more or less brow-beat it out of him, that he was gay. They blamed Benedict for 'turning' the kit, threatened to sue and so on. Wendell was well of legal age, so the parents had no standing for a lawsuit, but you know how creative an attorney can get when he's on the scent of punitive damages in the millions. The trick was to make the university look culpable. The serval's parents actually helped when they went public with it all, because they made the show about religion versus education, and that lost them a lot of positive public opinion, even from conservatives. In the end, Benedict accepted a demotion and a probation on his tenure. He had nothing to worry about; the university knows he's far too valuable to risk being lost to another university somewhere. It just had to look right to the public."

"So he never defended himself?"

"Draconian pride aside, Benedict was more sensible than Oscar Wilde." Cory sighed, shaking her mane gently. "Anything that goes to court is subject to being turned inside out and exposed to public view. Depending upon how its presented, 'evidence' can be made of whole cloth and unsubstantiated. It's what our young reporter is learning: No one cares if someone is innocent or guilty... it's the questions that do the damage.

"The controversy raged loud and long, with various campus protests and all. Being a young and idealistic mare, who also had her crush on a certain erudite and brilliant dragon professor, you can guess which side I fell on." She smiled softly. "This was when the sodomy laws were still on the books, and the whole anti-gay push was more or less at its height. The war was fought in the media and never saw the inside of courtroom. Benedict still carried his head high - no joke intended - but he wasn't himself much during that time. One thing that saved him, or so I think anyway, is that Wendell moved in with him once the formal counseling was over. They kept each other warm that winter, and the following winter, Wendell graduated with honors and a very bright future ahead of him. They separated quite happily, as seems to happen with all of Benedict's student loves. They're still in touch, I think."

"He saved his life."

"They saved each other."

Buniq was never one to conceal her emotions much, but even she was surprised that she felt tears trying to well up in her eyes. "It's happening again, is that it?"

"It's threatening to, yes. Different times, different circumstances, but similar enough for the rakers of prime quality muck to smell blood in the air." The nicker in Cory's voice was anything but amused. "With luck, it'll stay on campus; maybe Dr. Bittner can talk some sense into these journalism students after all. The trouble is that scandal always seems to be the prize these days, the fast track to a flashy job in the news-entertainment industry. True journalism is all but extinct."

"How can I help?"

The mare smiled, her pastel blue eyes twinkling. "Another crush?"

"Not that strong," the Husky laughed. "I still have classes to take from him, so I can't take the chance that he won't be here. Call it enlightened self-interest."

"Then we'll circle the wagons. I'll have a word with the Chair, see if I can't get a meeting with all faculty and staff in the department to let them know that we may have an unpleasant infestation of_Vespa journalistus_ swarming upon us. Polite non-cooperation will be the rule of the day, and we'll do what we can to keep them from camping out on Benedict's doorstep. If you come up with more ideas, make notes - we'll pass them around, see what we can use."

"I'll let it be known that we may need some student support on the ground. I have discreet friends who can be ready to help mobilize if need be."

Cory's brows attempted to rise into her mane. "Not planning any riots, I hope?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that I have ever helped to organize a flash mob." The Husky coquettishly put a finger to her muzzle as if to silence herself, grinned as her teacher laughed outright.

"Permission to hug?"

"Always." Buniq leaned into Cory's embrace and sighed happily. "My favorite activity. Leo Buscaglia would have adored me."

"No doubt." Gently breaking the hug, the mare nodded. "Thanks for your help. We're going to need all we can get."

The phone trilled irritably on the professor's desk, and she moved to answer it. Buniq rose to leave, wanting to provide privacy, but Cory's raised forepaw signaled that she should wait.

"As a matter of fact, she was just here... Yes... I'd call that a fair assessment, yes... I did put in a call to Dr. Bittner, to let him know; he asked to speak to her... Truth told, I think he ripped her a new tailhole." The professor winked at Buniq. "I was asking my assistant to help me make some plans. Tell Benedict that we have his best interests at heart, and his long and lovely crimson tail covered... No, other parts of his anatomy are up to him... I'll let him know when we can set up the meeting with everyone. He'll have our full support... Thank you, Nelson. I'll keep you posted."

The mare returned the handset carefully to the base and cast her assistant a softly cautious look. "And so... it begins."