Cassidy wondered, looking down at Irisa, her face lost in the tangled mass of black hair that he loved, what she was going to make of his family.  He grinned.  He knew what they'd make of her.  He was taking her, unbeknownst to her, to meet them today.  And soon, he prayed, to the vociferous endorsement of his alter egos, he'd be taking her to the wedding chapel in Elkton.  He smoothed the hair away from her face and leaned down to kiss her cheek.  When she began to stir he whispered in her ear, "Happy New Year, sweetheart."

The smile came before her eyes opened and when they did it took a moment for her brain to kick in, she'd been so deeply asleep. So that made the quick onset smile all the more telling, Cassidy decided. taking encouragement where he could get it.

She stretched then said, "I hope your New Year's resolutions include one about putting me to sleep like that every night."

"It's what I promised myself for Christmas," he said.   "So you can count on it."  He smiled and pulled her in close against him, kissing her again.  "I'm starving," he said, "for caffeine and food, how about you?"

"Hmmm, great idea.  You shower first," she added, snuggling back down into the covers.

"I was kind of hoping," he said, running his hands down the length of her spine savoring the satin feel of her skin, "You'd let me wash your back this morning, seeing as how I haven't been able to in a while, you being so busy getting caught back up at work."

She opened an eye and regarded him. "I thought you were hungry for food?" she asked lips twitching. "You know what happens when we're in there together. It'll be awhile."

"I had a larger hot water tank installed," Cassidy said, unconcerned, his hand stroking the curve of her bottom.  "But," he went on, bending his mouth to her ear and laving the lobe, "If you'd rather not I can shower alone."

She laughed. "You truly are hopeless, you know?  Okay, we'll shower together and damn the consequences!"

As was entirely predictable, it was some time before the water was turned off and they were getting dressed.  When they were dressed Cassidy said, "I know this place where they do a fabulous New Year's Day brunch, home style cooking and lots of fun.  Plus the coffee's the best I've ever had.  How does that sound?"

"Mmmm coffee," Irisa said as she put the finishing touches on her makeup.  She turned to check out her profile. She always took her time with makeup and he'd learned not to interrupt her too much.  Besides, he liked watching her routine. And he especially liked the result.  "I need a change of clothes though," she said with a frown. This living in two places sometimes got complicated.

Cassidy laughed.  "You carry your make with you everywhere but nary a spare pair of panties even when you know you'll be over here.  But I like it.  Means I can watch you take your clothes off."

She threw her lipstick at him. "Just for that, you can wait in the hallway."

They zapped to her apartment and unsurprisingly she relented and let him wait in the sitting room area while she changed. "Is it fancy?" she asked sticking her head into the sitting room after a moment. "I mean, a pant suit, or dressier, or should I wear just jeans and a sweater?"

He looked down at his own jeans and just said, "Casual."

She rolled her eyes. She knew him well enough to know that sometimes he thought casual whereas she quite often in the circumstances thought business dress. Still, she put on a pair of jeans but dressed them up a bit with an angora sweater. She let her hair hang down, just using a clip to pull it back from her face.  She pulled on a pair of boots and was good to go.

"Will this do?" she asked, pirouetting on a high heel. Cassidy always seemed to get a kick out of it when she did it, so she was laughing as she did so.  And, she liked it when he looked at her that way.

"Oh yeah," he said, his hands reaching for her.  "It'll do."  He was kissing her as he zapped them out of there and kept kissing her after they arrived.  When he finally let her go they were inside a house and a man and a woman in their early sixties or so were standing there, grinning at them.  Cassidy leaned over and kissed the woman on the cheek.  "Hi mom," he said.  "This is Irisa Diamond.  Irisa, these are my parents, Amelia and Sebastian Cassidy."

"Hello dear," Amelia said, taking her hands in a warm clasp and kissing her cheek.  "We're so happy to meet you."

Irisa blushed beet red and glared at Cassidy. Then she turned to her host and hostess. "Uhm, hullo, Mr. and Mrs Cassidy. I'm sorry... He didn't give me any warning." She kicked Cassidy in the shin, discreetly, as she shoved him away and fought to get herself in control.

Sebastian laughed.

Amelia gave him a look and smiled warmly at Irisa.  "Please, call us Amelia and Sebastian," she said.  "And kick Cassidy again, I'm sure he deserves it."

Cassidy laughed and pulled Irisa back in his arms.  "This way you didn't stew about it like you would have.  Want some coffee?" he asked, steering her towards the kitchen.

Irisa gave his parents a rather helpless look.   Not much she could do beyond just winking out and that was rude. "Yes, coffee," was all she said.  "Thank you."

Amelia poured her a cup and pointed to the cream and sugar.  "They're all hopeless, Irisa.  There's no changing them.  His brothers and their families will be here soon and you'll see.  His sisters," she said, laughing," swore they'd never marry anyone like them, being too smart to pick a guy like that and then turned around and did it anyway.  They'll be here too.  New Year's brunch is a family tradition."

"But we're harmless," Cassidy said, drinking down his own coffee.  "God, mom...you should market this stuff."

Sebastian pulled out a chair for Irisa and then one for Amelia at the kitchen table.  "My dear there isn't a thing wrong with the Cassidy men.  Don't believe her."

Irisa eyed Cassidy. "Mr... er, Sebastian, I'm sure you love him since he's your son, but even so, he's seriously quite ... impossible.  For instance, he brought me here under false pretenses. What can you do with a man like that?" But her eyes revealed a tiny spark of humor now.

"Well," Amelia said when her husband started laughing again, "when he decided it was time for me to meet his parents he told me we were going to a party.  What he didn't tell me was it was his parents thirtieth wedding anniversary party and his whole family would be there nor that he's primed them the information that he was bringing his bride to be.  He didn't want me getting all nervous."

"And just what did YOU tell them, Cassidy?" Irisa asked, eyes narrowing.

"That I was bringing the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen to brunch and that they had to be nice to you because I wanted to marry you," Cassidy said, unabashed.  "Didn't I mom?"

"He also said," Amelia confirmed with a grin, "That you were proving hard to convince, which to my mind is a sure sign of intelligence and uncommonly sound sense.  These men will keep your head spinning if you let them."

Irisa laughed.  "So what's your secret of how to deal with them? Kick them often and kiss them when necessary?'

"Never noticed it ever did you a bit of harm," Sebastian said.  "In fact, why just this morning you were saying..."

"I was saying that's enough," Amelia broke in, blushing.

"No," Sebastian said shaking his head, "Quite the opposite, as I recall."

"See what I mean," Amelia said laughing.  "You need a firm hand, a strong will and a good pair of running shoes."

"I caught you anyway," her husband said looking smug.  "And barely broke a sweat."

"They rewrite history when it suits 'em," Amelia said.  "I made him wait two years, he was so cocky and impertinent.  And in those days that really meant waiting, too."

"I know," Sebastian said.  "She was heartless.  I'm still getting over it, making up for all the time she wasted."

Irisa grinned. "Yes, perhaps I ought to emulate you, Amelia."

"Well," Cassidy said, "if you do that then you'd be out of with luck me putting you to sleep like I did last night...unless you didn't mean what you said this morning?"

"They always try that," Sebastian said.  "Thinking we're the only one's who'd mind."

Irisa threw her hands up in the air. "Amelia, is there something I can help you with?  Beyond kicking a male?"

"Nope," Amelia said.  "It's all done.  The others should be here any time now.  Want some more coffee?  A weapon to keep handy?  Duck tape for his mouth?"

"Don't tempt me. So it really is genetic. He told me it was. Frankly I just thought he was off his meds."

Amelia almost spewed coffee.  "There's drugs that will help?  God, we have to tell the others."

"Oh, yeah.  We can dissolve it in their morning coffee," Irisa replied, giving it some serious thought.

"You wouldn't," Sebastian said, seemingly horrified.

"Just watch me," Amelia said.

"And you'd better keep that in mind too, Cassidy," Irisa added, eying her beau. "We've got a plan..."

He laughed and was spared the need to reply by the arrival of his brothers and sisters, spouses and children in tow.  Cassidy spent the rest of the day on his best behavior, for the most part.  When things settled down and the children were outside playing in the snow, the men were gathered in the family room watching football and the women were catching up in the kitchen he drew Irisa aside into the living room.  "So," he said, holding her close, "You love me."

"Well," she said thinking about it for a moment, "I did this morning. Now I'm having second thoughts. Although your family is quite wonderful. I'm wondering where you went wrong."

He grinned and kissed her thoroughly.  "It took me too long to find you.  But you love me anyway.  And I love you.  So will you marry me?"

"Say that again," she said faintly, staring at him as if she'd gone deaf.

"I love you," he repeated.  "Will you marry me?"

"I... Uhm... I love you. But... But that's a big step. I understand that you... it's like irrevocable for you. And you are hitting me with this when I'm stuffed to the gills with home cooking and thinking fondly of your family.  You aren't playing fair."

"Okay," he said.  "You wanna hang with the girls while I watch football or do you wanna leave and go do something else?"

"You should stay with your family, of course. Cassidy, I... "

"What sweetheart?" he said, tracing her jaw with kisses.

"You are so lucky. Such a lovely family. I'm so glad, even though it came out of the horror of Home, that you are able to see them again."

"Yeah, me too," he said, meeting her eyes.  "So what do you want to do?  Stay here?  Go get married?  Head back to the Refuge?"

She drew a design on his chest. "Stay here for awhile."

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked.

"What you asked me."

"What about it?"

"Its... kind of, I don't know. Scary for me to think about. But I love you so much I.."

He drew her over to the sofa and down onto his lap.  "I'm listening," he said when they were settled, her head nestled on his shoulder and her hand in his.

"Marriages I saw growing up weren't very happy," she finally said. "Maybe if I'd had parents or relatives like yours, well, then it might not seem like such a gigantic step and so ..."

"It is a gigantic step," he said, resting his cheek on her hair, "but you wouldn't be taking it alone."

"True," she agreed. "And I can't think of anyone else I'd want to take it with."

"Well that's a start," he said.

"It's more than a start. It's an end to it.  So, yes."

Cassidy's arms tightened around her instinctively, his alter egos roaring with triumph.  He didn't say anything for a minute, until he could let her loose and see her face.  "You don't know," he said, "how many times I've imagined hearing you say that.  Or how happy I am.  But I...but I need to be sure you're sure.  That you're committed, wholeheartedly and completely.  That you don't have any doubts about this," he said, holding her eyes with his own, joy mingling with something else turning in his.

She pushed him away and began to get up. At his look she commented, "I'm starting on the duct tape plan right now. Sometimes you just don't know when to keep your mouth shut. So either kiss me and stop asking silly questions or I get the duct tape."

He kept hold of her hand and studied her face for endless seconds.  Then a grin began to spread across his and he gave a tug on her arm that landed her back on his lap.  "Oh yeah," he said and kissed her.  He dug in his pocket and pulled out the box.  "Don't you dare move," he told her, letting go of her hand only long enough to open it and remove the ring.  Then, returning the box to his pocket he reclaimed her hand and looked her dead in the eye.  "Irisa Diamond I love you, past all sense and hope of change, more than anything else in this life or the next, more than my own life.  The only thing I want out of the rest of my days is the chance to make you as happy as you make me, to spoil you, to cherish you, to love you...so will you marry me?" he asked holding the ring poised over her finger.

"Sebastian Cassidy, Junior, or the Second or whatever, I love you. I'm not committing to loving you beyond all sense, because one of us has to have a little sense or this marriage will never work. But I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, so yes."

He slid the ring on her finger and then kissed her hand before pulling her down to him.  "The twelfth," he said against her mouth as he claimed it.

She pushed him away after a time. "You mean there have been twelve generations of crazy-ass men like you!  Wait, I need to think this through some more..."

"Oh no you don't," he said.  "We're working on the thirteenth, not thinking about the implications of continuity.  How do you feel about eloping?"

"I am not getting married in an Elvis chapel in Las Vegas," she replied indignantly.

He looked offended.  "I mean where my parents were married, and all my brothers.  In Elkton, a nice little chapel with a minister and an organ and no neon lights."

She eyed him critically. "Do you people have the mortgage on the place?"

"No," he said, baffled.  "It's just the closest to here by car."

She began laughing. "So this is a family thing, eh? You all fill us up with good food, propose and whisk us off to where, Elkton, before our heads stop spinning?"

"I haven't even begun to make your head spin," he said.  "So how about it?  We could honeymoon in Greece.  There's a villa there, on the sea, white sand beach and no one around for miles."

"Uhm, we both have jobs," she pointed out. "Marc is a sweetheart, but I'm not sure he's going to take a call from Greece very kindly."

"Look, forget the problems and logistics for a minute.  Just answer the question."

"Well, who am I to wreck a family tradition," she said shaking her head, bemused.  "Besides, I have the feeling all this has been carefully planned out long ago.  And speaking of that, how long have you had that ring handy?"

He gave a war whoop that rattled the lamps and dug out his cell phone.  "Months.  You think I'd take a chance on you changing your mind?" he said as he dialed.  "Yeah it’s me Jordan.  Sorry to bother you on New Year's but she said yes.  Thanks.  Yeah, so you know what to do.  Just let Stephen and Marc know and we'll see you in couple of weeks.  Yeah, unreachable for any reason.  I'm turning both cell phones off after this call.  Great.  See ya then," he said and hung up, grinning at his family as they stood in the entrance way.  "We're off to Elkton.  See you guys after the honeymoon."

"Wait, don't I even get a chance to pack?" Irisa whined.

"Why?  You expect to be wearing clothes?  I'll buy you what you need.  Think of it as a wedding present.  The first of many."

Irisa just shook her head. "Amelia, can I please have a roll of duct tape to take along?"

"Sure.  And what's the name of the drug so I can tell the doctor what I want?" Amelia said.

"There's a drug?" the women behind her chorused.  "And it works?"

"Hey! She's kinky," one of Cassidy's brothers said.  "Nice going, bro."

Stephen pushed his plate away and poured himself another cup of coffee.  "So they eloped to Elkton, according to Jordon," he said to Marc.  "Then two weeks in Greece.  Happy New Year to us all."

"Just when we need her most," Marc muttered darkly.

"Oh?" Stephen said.  "Most for what?"

"Well, with Dinah laid up, I was hoping to stay home more. Bloody fools. Why can't they just live in sin like the bloody rest of us."

Stephen started laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. "He wants babies.  Maybe you should have offered him Christopher and Drianna."

"No kidding. And what does that have to do with it?  We all got babies coming. I always knew he was unstable. I'm just surprised Irisa fell for it."

Stephen shook his head, still laughing.  "Maybe he has something we don't know about that he used on her.  Still, I think he'll be more stable this way, now that he's got a ring on her finger.  However, since it's a good cause I'll help with what she had going on so you can still be here riding herd on Dinah.  And Melly can help too."

"I'm gonna wring Reno's scrawny neck. I bet he knew about this, but didn't tell me."

Reno, who'd arrived a few minutes ago with paperwork for Marc to sign, yelped. "Hey!  Yell at Jordon, he's the one that kept the secrets.  From the IBMs no less. Bastahd."

Stephen looked Reno and said, totally unrepentant, "Guilty here.  I told him the day after Christmas we'd cover for them.  I didn't expect he'd move so fast however.  So how much money did you lose Reno?"

Reno frowned. "Not much. Still... I'm making tons on Tommy and Daisy though," he added, brightening up.

"Oh?  How's that?" Dinah asked, kissing Marc on her way past him to the kitchen.

"Irisa ran off with Cassidy," Marc said before Reno could reply. "Damn women.  Why didn't she hold out for a church wedding?  She seemed to enjoy Tsura's."

"Yeah well good for them, but what about Tommy and Daisy," Dinah said.  "I've got a bet on that one."

"Oh yeah. They're an item.  You got a few bucks coming. I don't suppose you want to donate it to the new room we're building onto the pub?  Or maybe for the gym equipment?"

"An item?  You mean she finally got him into bed?" Dinah demanded, her face alight.  "When?  And what's your proof?"

"What room," Stephen asked.

"Christmas Eve. Lucky thing, too, since he gave her that pup for Christmas. She's sublimating all her sexual energies on the pup now. Proof.  Hah. One look at Tommy told us all we needed to know."  Then Reno looked at Stephen. "Sports bar. Satellite feeds to the TVs and all."

Stephen raised an eyebrow.  "Oh?  Well, put me down for the TV's," he said.  Then he grinned.  "So that's why Tommy's been so unlike himself lately.  I'll have to congratulate him.  Damn, if she got him into bed...Daisy has remarkable talents, I'm telling you.  She's clearly under utilized."

"Yeah, you can keep mine, too," Dinah said.

"Cool. We'll have the European football, and for Trevor the cricket and rugby and of course American football and basketball and baseball in the spring. Oh and even ice hockey. We got a couple of Canadians, eh, who are lookin' forward to that..."  Reno was waxing rhapsodic until Marc turned a baleful eye on him.  "I do work hard for you boss, but a guy's gotta have _some_ fun."

"He's right," Dinah said, buttering some toast.  "What are you contributing?  Being senior management you need to set an example for the troops."

"I'll buy the big screen TVs, how's that," Marc offered.

"I've already got dibs on those," Stephen pointed out.  "What else do you want Reno?"

Reno's eyes lit up. "Pool tables."

That was when the doorbell rang, just as Marc was saying, "Just how big is this back room gonna be?"

"Oh damn," Stephen said, looking at the clock, "I forgot, Rimes is coming this morning."

"We could zap out and avoid him," Marc suggested as Tabitha headed toward the door.  "Why's he here anyway, rather than at the offices."

"He wanted to keep his visit quiet," Stephen said. "No idea why."

"Uh oh," Marc replied as Tabitha was showing the spy master into the kitchen.

"Morning," Marc muttered. "Happy New Year and all that. What bad news are you bringing?"

"Don't mind him," Dinah said.  "He's grouchy this morning.  I'm Dinah McNeill, would you like some coffee?"

Rimes grinned.  "Sure.  Thanks.  I didn't mean to interrupt breakfast," he added, taking the chair she indicated.

"There's plenty, if you're hungry," Tabitha said, handing him a cup.

Rimes smiled.  "No, already ate.  The government starts work early."

Marc eyed Rimes unhappily. "So, what is it you think you want from us?"

"Mr. Rogatien, truly, I'm not your enemy," he said.

"If I thought you were you wouldn't be here," Marc said easily. "Still, somehow I doubt you just dropped by to wish us merry, so spill it."

"If it's not too much trouble do you think we could speak privately?" Rimes said.

Marc looked around at the usual mob. Tabitha, and Eli, and the two kids, and Dinah.  Reno and Stephen, sitting at the table. Anja pouring herself a cup of tea and topping off Dinah's.   "No," Marc replied.

Stephen looked at Marc.  "Why not," he asked.

Marc sighed. "Fine. Let's withdraw to the library.  I don't think anyone is in there at the moment."

Stephen refilled his cup and led the way.  When they were settled he looked at Rimes.  "So, now that we're alone...?"

"Thank you," Rimes said.  He set his cup down and looked at both men, seemingly unsure where to start.  Finally he said, "The circus in London that led to our first meeting and subsequent events that I won't bore you with inspired the CIA to recommend, forcefully, to the National Security Council that an agency similar to Blackheath be established here.  It was suggested that its first task would be to both investigate and keep close tabs on you gentlemen and your activities."

"I knew I wasn't going to like this."  Marc looked over at Stephen with a frown, then back at Rimes. "So, what, your first order of business in the New Year is to defy your mandate?"

"If only it were so," Rimes said fervently.  "We don't particularly care if you know we're interested given that I have no doubt such interest wouldn't stay unknown to you for long.  No, I'm here because I have been assigned, temporarily I hope, to head the agency.  As such I have persuaded the NSC that perhaps the CIA is over reacting in your regard.  Be that as it may, one of the things that was explicitly included in our charter was establishing and maintaining a close relationship with those agencies of a similar nature in other countries.  Beginning of course with Blackheath."

"And that has to do with us, here in the Blue Ridge, how?" Marc asked.

"Well," Rimes said, "I'd be grateful for an introduction to them and if it's not too much trouble, for the opportunity to also meet Lord Avery again."

"He's in the book," Marc replied, grouchily.

Stephen looked at Marc and frowned.  "Are you and Dinah fighting or something?"

Marc opened and then shut his mouth without saying a word. Then after a moment, "We'll contact Lord Avery and see what we can do. You need it here, or in London?"

"Either is fine," Rimes said with a smile.  "Thank you."

"Anything we should know beforehand?  Surprises? Things that are going to piss me off?  Things that are going to piss Blackheath off?"

Rimes blinked.  "Well," he said slowly.  "We've been nicknamed the Zoo."

Marc grinned. "Oh, that's rich. I'm sure the powers that be would like to lock you away too."

"We think so," Rimes said.  "Mostly this meeting is about establishing a relationship.  I appreciate the help and am open to exploring ways we might be able to assist you, no strings.  It's my belief that that we don't need any given what I've seen."

"Well, that remains to be seen, I'd think," Marc said, seeming to have gotten over his initial obstreperousness. "You people, all of you government types, need to get over yourselves and realize you can't just control folks, especially us who can zap off world in a heartbeat."

"Well that was a pretty comprehensive indictment," Rimes said.

Stephen frowned at Marc and shook his head.  "We people, of course, also need to get over our suspicious natures and realize that being able to just zap off world in a heartbeat...," and then he broke off, startled.  "Ah, I see," he said with a smile.

Rimes, who'd also just gotten it, looked hard at Marc and just waited.

"If you're very very good, someday you might learn more," Marc finally finished. "Maybe before Blackheath does."

Rimes allowed understanding to inform his features and nodded.  "I'm always very, very good."

"Uh huh," Marc agreed. "So are we done here? You got a card for us?  We'll call you when we arrange something. You want Lord Avery before Blackheath or with them?"

Rimes fished out a card while he thought about it.  "He's your point person with them isn't he?"

"Yes. He has no affiliation with them. Much like us, he's trying to keep fairly decent relationships with the locals."

"Then together is fine, though you might let him know we're hoping for a few words separately, on a matter I think he will find worth his time."

"I'll be sure to let him know," Marc replied, standing and holding out his hand to Rimes. "I'll be in touch as soon as I know something."

"Thank you," Rimes said.  "Both of you," he added, shaking hands with Stephen.  "I appreciate it, especially since I'm an evil government type."

"Just don't forget it," Marc said laughing as they showed him to the door.

"Oh you'll remind me I'm sure."  He grinned and headed for his car.

"Well that was relatively painless," Stephen said.

"See, you're way more trusting than me. I'm worrying about what he didn't say."

"True, and I ain't fighting with Doni either, which helps," Stephen said.  "But it's a good question and an example of why I'm so glad you're around. Anything I can do to help?"

"Not really. Dinah resents her limitations and I'm adamant about them. We'll weather the storms.  But thanks for asking."

"Which is why you're sticking close to home," Stephen said, "so you can spank her when she misbehaves."

"Oh yeah, can't you see that happening. But if I glare at her enough she feels the tiniest bit guilty and I'll take that for now," Marc replied grinning.

Stephen grinned back and glanced at the clock.  "Well, how about lunch in London?  At this rate we're going to need an office there."

"No kidding. I wonder if Ian's cook is as good as Baz's?"

"Don't know, but I doubt it.  His scotch rates, though," Stephen said zapping out and then reappearing on Ian's door step.

Ian's valet Edwards opened the door and even resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.  "Lord Blakesley is out but should be returning shortly. Would you like to await him?"

"Sure," Stephen said.  "Thank you Edwards.  And Happy New Year."

"Thank you sir, that's most kind. This way please," he added, taking them to Ian's comfortable snuggery. It was a bit less old school than Baz's but had the same creature comforts. A large portrait of Adele was above the fireplace. The sofas were leather and deeply comfortable, the carpeting aubusson, giving the room a faintly French flair.  The scotch was on a sideboard, in a crystal decanter.  Marc walked over and poured for them both, when Edwards left them to their own devices.

"Thanks," Stephen said, checking out the bookshelves.  "We need a room like this."

"True. We can lock the women out," Marc agreed. "Also Christopher."

"I'll pay for half," Stephen said.

"We've got a plan," Marc replied with a grin.

"What plan is that?" Ian said as he walked through the door hearing only the last word.

"A room at the house were women and Christopher aren't allowed," Stephen said with a grin, "like this one and Baz's."

"Ah. Yes, it's a British tradition. Something you colonists failed to appreciate enough. So, I suppose you are here for lunch. Baz warned me you two had a tendency to time things for free food."

"Well, not deliberately.  It's just a matter of the time difference between here and there," Stephen said, looking guilty.  "Though I will admit, we don't get meals like it at home."

Ian grinned. "I'm quite certain Edwards has alerted the cook and seen the table reset. I mostly eat out for luncheon so you are fortunate to find me eating in.  Now, what can I do for you two?"

"We had a visit from Mr. Rimes.  Remember him?" Marc replied.

Ian frowned. "Bloody hell. What did he want?"

"For us to set up a meeting between you, him and Blackheath so he can introduce himself as the new player on the block," Stephen said.

"Oh, and what's new about him.  He's been around for quite some time as I understand it.  Not meaning a knock on his age, merely the age of his agency."

"He's got a new agency, to match Blackheath.  The US Psi Agency from his card.  But the nickname's the Zoo," Stephen said, his lips quivering.

Ian chuckled, then cocked his head for a moment. "Ah. Luncheon is ready. Shall we?"

Ian escorted them into an elegantly appointed dining room. It was smaller and more intimate than Baz's.   "Please sit."

"Thanks," Marc said, sniffing the air as Edwards appeared with a tureen.

"So an new agency. Just what we need to deal with. But I fail to see what he thinks I should do, or why I would do it at all. I mean, last I heard MI5 is so furious with the CIA they are only speaking through an intermediary."

"He wasn't forthcoming," Stephen said, tasting his soup.  "Very nice," he commented.  "He did say that he would also like to speak with you without them there and that you would find it worth your time."  Stephen ate some more soup before he added, "It's possible he wants you as his intermediary given the state of things between CIA and MI5.  If so he's smart enough to know you'll need a reason."

"Hmm," Ian said, pouring them each wine, "hard to believe the CIA would agree to trust a British citizen. Perhaps our Mr. Rimes has the ear of someone above their heads. Not that there are many of them, but still, I dare say they listen to a few people with clout."

"I was given to understand that this isn't a CIA show.  In fact from what he said the CIA recommended it and tried to keep control and lost hence Rimes as the head," Stephen said.

"Ah interesting," Ian commented, sitting back to regard Stephen. "So how does the Refuge feel about all of this?"

"Us?" he asked.  "Marc's wondering what Rimes didn't say.  I'm wondering why the CIA all of a sudden got hot on this.  He tried to say it was a result of our brush with Blackheath and subsequent events, leading CIA to think they should keep a close eye on us.  They are keeping a close eye on us of course.  The dragons are handy that way."

"Hmmm. So," Ian said thoughtfully as the fish dish was brought in (Dover sole). "You'd like me to arrange this for him?  More to keep the peace than anything else?  Although we might find out a bit more about what Mr. Rimes isn't saying by listening to what is said at the meeting quite closely."

"We would be grateful," Stephen said.  "We also wouldn't mind eavesdropping on your meeting with them."

"I'll see what I can arrange along those lines. I'll be in contact with a Blackheath agent this evening, so I'll pass along your request. I'd think I'd have an idea whether or not they'd be interested by tomorrow. Unless you are in a great hurry about it all?"

"Not me.  And I think they can wait too," Stephen said.

"I agree. Let them wait," Marc said. "Why is it, Stephen, we're lucky if we get a pastrami sandwich for lunch."

"Our chef's a woman?" Stephen said.

"Sexist," Marc muttered. "We could take turns sending the minions out to good places to bring us lunch."

"Easier to hire a chef," Stephen said.  "To go with the room, make it more palatable."

"You think Tabby would mind?" Marc asked.  Ian sat back bemused to hear them.

Stephen grinned. "Yeah but when the babies come who's doing the cooking?"

"Good point.  All in all I'd think she'd thank us," Marc agreed.

By pudding, Marc and Stephen had convinced themselves to hire a cook by the end of the day.

Ian Blakesley, Lord Avery, had set up the meeting between Rimes, for his new USPA agency and Blackheath utilizing the upstairs grill venue at Bentley's Oyster Bar and Grill. He'd reserved a corner of the grill area and had arranged for privacy and a certain amount of quiet.

Serene, sophisticated and elegant the stately Edwardian veneer appealed to him, and as he had to sit through the bloody meeting he might as well enjoy a decent meal. He was particularly fond of the Thai crab soup.

The waiters, wearing tails, greeted him and showed him around for his final approval of the setting. Then, with a snap of his fingers, Rimes and his colleague arrived, looking a bit startled. "Well, would you rather fly?" Ian asked frowning.  "Ah, here comes Blackheath."

"Erm, no." Rimes said, turning to greet the new arrivals, his game face in place.

His colleague, taller and a bit more muscular than Rimes, and perhaps carrying, didn't bother to hide his own suspicious nature.

"Allow me to introduce everyone," Ian inserted smoothly. "For Blackheath we have Ms Rachel Lynne, Head, Mr. Luke Arrington, Emma Peel and St John Steed. For the Zoo, Mr. Geoffrey Rimes and Mr. Cooper Stone. Please, let's all sit, order drinks or wine, and a meal.  Once we're waited on, we can then have privacy."

Rimes was shaking hands with Rachel when Stephen and Marc arrived.  "Sorry we're late," Stephen said.  "Something came up."  He introduced himself and Marc to Cooper and then took a seat.

"A pleasure to see you both again," Rachel said.  "Been busy?" she asked with a smile.

Stephen grinned.  "A bit.  And yourself?"

"We've not been bored," Luke answered.  He turned to the waiter and ordered a whiskey and then continued.  "Any plans for the New Year?"

"Some," Stephen said.  "I can't imagine they'd interest you though."

"Oh, but they do," Luke assured him.

"Well, we're adding on to the pub...a sports bar sort of thing.  And taking donations if you're interested.  We've also hired a chef for the commune, a Swiss gentleman who has a wonderful way with fish; however he and Tabitha are still sorting out their relationship so things are a bit unsettled in the kitchen."  Stephen lifted his glass to Luke.  "Cheers."

"We added a snuggery too, off limits to women and children, which we are taking a bit of flack over, but what the hell," Marc added, giving Emma and Rachel a totally unrepentant grin.

"How... interesting," St John murmured sizing up Ian in light of a look he swore he saw in Emma's eye when she first spotted him. That was the trouble with agents. So nosy.

Rimes bit his cheek and sat back to watch the show.

"Dinah's still giving Marc fits about staying off her feet and we're still looking for a couple of magical nannies.  Other than that things are pretty routine.  How about you, Ian?  What are your plans for the New Year?" Stephen asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I'm afraid. I'm planning a vacation in Rio over Carnivale, so don't you lot screw it up with some new emergency."

"We don't plan them, Lord Avery" Rachel said.  "But I'll make a note on my calendar."  She took a glass of wine from the waiter and gave him a salute with the glass before sipping.  "To a smooth working relationship in the new year."

The waitstaff withdrew, having delivered all the drinks and taken all the orders so it was then safe for the beginning of a frank discussion.

"So,"  St. John opened, "What is it we lowly Brits can do for you, Mr. Rimes?"

"Take our calls?" he suggested with a smile, "now that we've met.  It seemed to me that courtesy would be best served by introducing ourselves to you.  It's possible that we might find some common ground."

"Indeed," St John replied. "Given the CIA came waltzing in here not long ago and attempted a takeover of CCTV cameras here in central London without a by your leave, I'm thinking maybe, just perhaps, our skepticism is a bit justified.  The arrogance of it was just a tad much, you know. We could quite easily have tracked their operative for them, but no, no matter how many of our own operations were put in jeopardy, they decided they knew best."

"True," Rimes said.  "It was extremely arrogant.  Perhaps that's why the CIA was not given a role in this."

"So you've been sent to make amends and play nice?" St John asked, batting his eyelashes innocently.

"No, I've been sent to to do my job, which may include playing nice, but I only make amends for my own mistakes.  The CIA is all grown up now, or so they say; they can fix it themselves."

"So, now that each side has thrown a few knives, can we get past the hostility to the meat of the agenda?" Ian suggested.

"Oh I don't know," Luke said.  "I rather think Mr. Rimes has a point.  Playing nice isn't always part of the job."

"I asked for this meeting simply so we could meet each other.  I personally find it easier doing business with people I've met, particularly if the business I'm doing might be...misperceived, shall I say.  My only agenda item is the hope that by meeting we might, in the future, unlike so many of my countryman anyway, communicate early and often rather than rarely and late and that such communication be as open as possible.  I know that makes me seem both naive and gullible, the sort who still believes in fairy tales, but hey, the fairy tales are coming to life."

"Hah," Marc muttered glumly. "And soon four more. So... we're done here?  And the first course of luncheon has arrived!" he added more happily. "So the Thai Crab Soup is excellent, Ian, thanks for the suggestion."

Luke ignored him.  "Yes well, you're new to the job, so a few illusions are understandable.  Congratulations on the appointment by the way.  Confirmed yesterday, wasn't it?"

That he was correct wasn't what caused a flicker in Rimes' eyes.  It was that his confirmation hearings, the agency itself, all of it was highly classified.  Rimes met his look blandly, not hiding his surmise.  "Yes, unfortunately it was.  Sooner than I expected."

"So you don't sound all that enthused about this, Mr. Rimes," St John commented, working his way through his own soup. "Is that because you have suspicions of your own regarding the CIA staying out of your business?"

"No, but then I don't have a hard on for them either," Rimes said.  "I just prefer a quieter life than this will allow."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you retire?" Marc asked. "You could move to the Eastern Shore. Hide out in St. Michael's there. I hear it's quite nice."

"I prefer fresh water fishing," Rimes said.

"Ah.  We have quite a few nice trout streams, or so I'm told, in the Blue Ridge. I personally don't have much time for fishing," Marc commented.

"Nor I," Rimes said.  "But one lives in hope."

Stephen ignored the small talk that replaced the sparring as the main course was served.  He was, in many ways, an administrator like Rimes was, albeit one who hadn't, as he also sensed was true for Rimes, spent all his time shuffling paper.  And for the life of him he couldn't figure out what Rimes was hoping to accomplish with this tack.  Blackheath was enjoying beating him up with the CIA too much to do anything else and Rimes, while distancing himself from them hadn't done much else.  Blackheath, in fact, gave every sign, if Steed was any guide, of not taking him seriously at all.  And Arrington had rubbed his nose in their penetration of his security.

He took a bite of his chicken and chewed thoughtfully.  The tendency they...he and Marc and Ian...had, it seemed, was to treat these guys like easy targets, visible symbols for all the things that were wrong with intelligence agencies, forgetting all the things that were right.  Not that there weren't a lot of things wrong, nor was it wise to forget the fact that governments tended to think national security included whatever they wanted it to include and its pursuit justified anything they wanted it to justify.  Still...they weren't complete clowns and Rimes had the contours of a man who wanted and tried to avoid the excesses of his colleagues.  So...what was really going on here?  And why, now that he looked at it, had Rimes needed an outsider to effect this introduction.  Governments had been dealing with their counterparts in other governments since bureaucracy had begun.  It's what bureaucrats did.  Stephen's eyes narrowed as the possible answers to that question reduced themselves to a choice of two and his face got hard.

Marc seeing that, raised an eyebrow.  He too had his suspicions regarding what was going on, and found it interesting that only St John and Arrington had spoken more than a few words and that it had been St John doing most of the jousting. Cooper Stone had remained silent throughout, his face giving away nothing.

Once the servers had delivered everyone their meals, and made certain all the drinks were correct and full, and wine poured and condiments at hand, they withdrew again giving the table privacy once again.

"So, the Zoo is keeping an eye on the Refuge, and Blackheath is doing the same to me and others here in England. So... What's next?" Ian asked, looking pointedly at the woman in authority at least the top echelon they knew of at Blackheath.

"No idea," Rachel said.  "You all want your privacy, which is understandable, and have no real interest in any association with us.  We are the proverbial burr under your saddles in your view and most definitely not to be trusted and there are grounds for that position.  We however have a job to do and will continue to try to do it.  Speaking for Blackheath anyway; I wouldn't presume to do so for our friends across the pond."

Rimes smiled.  "I'm grateful for the courtesy.  My illusions extend to hoping to learn from you and adjusting my interactions accordingly."

Rachel laughed.  "Touche, Mr. Rimes."

"Ah," Marc commented. "So it is all our fault for being so suspicious and uncooperative. So glad we got that cleared up."

"But of course," Rimes agreed easily.  "Just like it's the CIA's fault for all that's wrong with the rest of world.  If you would just do what we wanted and opened your books to us completely, as it were, everything would be fine.  Certainly no agenda is more important to the continued existence of life, the universe and everything else but ours.  A reality you foolishly refuse to accept."

"It might help," Ian offered, "if you both declared your agenda with regard to our kind."

"Whatever we can get," Rimes said.

Emma laughed.  "An honest man."

"Well," he said, "it's the only believable answer whether it's the true one or not.  They expect to be exploited and they also expect the government to to display a keen alacrity in doing it.  Until we've worked through their expectations it really doesn't matter what ours are.  Especially since no amount of washing will ever render our hands clean."

"You're a remarkably cynical man," Luke said.

"It's all those years of being a CIA flunky," he replied.  "But tell me, can you honestly say that you aren't interested in whatever you can get from them?  And can they honestly say they don't approach every interaction with the expectation of being exploited and used as heinously as possible by an arrogant government only barely on the right side of the totalitarian line?  What I find remarkable is that we're even speaking to each other, the knife thrusts notwithstanding.  Quite frankly," he said, dropping his napkin on his plate and leaning back in his chair, "I view my job as being solely about finding a way to do something about both those sets of assumptions.  I don't need them to do things for me, they have a remarkable way of finding things to busy themselves with, things I applaud, without my help.  Things may turn up that would certainly be easier or more likely to turn out better if they lent us their aid.  But I never supported the draft and see no reason to change my mind now.  Nor," he added, his voice getting hard, "do I work for free; why should they?"

He grinned suddenly.  "But of course that's just a prepackaged speech and not to be believed.  Do you think they'll bring the dessert tray?"

"Ah," St John answered. "Here comes pudding now. I recommend the trifle here. Nicely soaked in brandy."

"Thank you," Rimes said and took his advice.

What was left of the meeting when far better. Brandies, trifle, easier comments and no barbed comments. Ian, Marc and Stephen sat back looking more relaxed and let the spies handle the conversation. Once Rimes had picked up the tab, and Blackheath had taken their leave, Ian said, "I'm given to understand you wish to see me. Privately, or with these two rotters there?"

"It's the free food that brings us," Stephen said.

"So I assumed," Rimes said.  "It's up to you Lord Avery.  I'm fine either way."

"Will you join us?" Ian asked Stephen and Marc. "You know my brand of scotch already."

"Oh, why not," Marc said. "Dinah could use a chance to blow off steam later."

Ian zapped the five of them to his study.

"See, Stephen. We need ours to be darker. Seems cozier. Less feminine," Marc commented looking at the dark paint on the walls.

"I think you're right," he said looking around critically.  "Baz's is darker too."  Stephen accepted a scotch and took a seat where he could watch Rimes.

Rimes, his own scotch in hand waited politely until everyone was settled and then reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope saying, "What I would like to discuss, Lord Avery, is as much in the nature of an exchange as it is a bribe.  "When the agency was created," he went on, "we acquired a number of things from the CIA that were the purview of the now defunct Stargate project, including a number of artifacts that they never made heads nor tails of.  I am of the opinion they would interest you and if you would agree to facilitate our interactions with Blackheath and to share whatever you discover about the artifacts I would, as my part of the exchange give you access to them at your convenience.  If it turns out you can decipher their use then the bribe would be that you could use them as you wish with reasonable caveats of course.  I can't unfortunately give them to you out right."  He passed the envelope to Ian.  "Those are photographs of them."

Ian raised an eyebrow and took the proffered envelope. "You don't mind having Mr. Stone here a witness to this bribe?" He looked at the until now, still, silent Mr. Stone.

Rimes laughed.  "No."

Ian opened the envelope and regarded the photographs.  His face revealed nothing. "Do you know how the CIA obtained these items?" was all he asked.

"No, I don't.  It is, in fact, something of a mystery.  They came to us as part of a truckload of boxed files, mostly financial records.  I am trying to trace them but it will take time.  Stargate has been defunct for a long time."

"Ah. And where would I need to go to have access to them?"

"The agency has offices near the zoo," Rimes said, his lips quivering.

"Do I need to gain entry through the tiger cage?" Ian asked. "Or perhaps the orangutan habitat."

"Only if that is your preference.  I usually use the entrance on Connecticut Avenue next to the metro stop."

"I accept your proffered bribe, then, Mr. Rimes. Now, will you answer a question for me?"

"If I can," Rimes said.

"I'd just like to know what you hoped to accomplish with Blackheath. They're under the same sort of pressure you are, of course. The hostility is government wide at the moment."

Rimes studied his glass for a moment.  "Well, it's not an administration that will last much longer of course and I and my ilk will be there when they're gone.  Still..."  He swallowed the rest of his drink and set the glass aside.  "It's been my experience that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.  Blackheath has operated worldwide with pretty much no competition.  Your lot has no respect for the niceties of customs and immigration in the general course of a day's work.  So there's reason to think we'll be encountering each other in the field even if we confine ourselves to the US.  Then there's all the political reasons that you know as well as I.  So at the end of the day what I hoped to accomplish with them, I did accomplish.  We met.  We have some measure of each other.  As for the rest, time will tell."

He met Ian's eyes steadily and said, deprecatingly, "I'm as simple a man as this job will allow.  I am as honest as I can force the job to allow me to be and sometimes more so.  None of which you need believe.  I'm well aware that your judgment will be one based on behavior and results, not words.  So I also wanted to observe your interaction with them and to give you a chance to get to know me a bit better."

Ian stared down at his drink as he swirled it. "Speaking for myself, and possibly for at least a portion of the Rose and Cross, we are perfectly capable of operating outside your purview. We've been able to go around, through or past governments for a great many centuries. But if the opportunity arises, most of us would hope to find a way to deal with you in as reasonable a manner as possible.

"You're wise, I think, to at least say that you don't wish to come to rely on us. Because you can't know our needs or our limitations. We couldn't even explain much of that to you. It's something you'd have to experience to fully understand. But for myself, I am willing to help out when our needs intersect. I merely want to be able to say no when necessary with no one attempting coercion."

Rimes laughed.  "Speaking for myself and the Zoo it's my opinion that coercion with you all would be wasted effort.  I tend," he went on, "to view your talents much as I do those of any other gifted person in any other area.  They're yours to use as you wish within the constraints of the society you live in.  You may, in my view, have a moral obligation to use them in certain ways but I lack the moral agency, among other things, to enforce that view.  I can't force a math genius to work on what I want him to, so why would I think I could force you?  All I would ever ask is a fair hearing.   Still that's not the only issue.  The other is learning about you and the whole associated rat in a maze, monkey in a cage problem."

"And frankly," Marc chimed in, "that is the aspect that bothers us the most. We don't want our children kidnapped or otherwise harassed, or our people seen as exhibits."

"Nor would I," Rimes said.  "It has seemed to me, as I've thought about these problems in the last few weeks, that if there's anything I can offer you it's some measure of recourse should those things happen if that makes sense.  I can't speak for future governments or even this one.  You best defense against the unknown of those things is the ballot box and offshore assets, however you chose to define offshore.  But with that caveat in mind, I tend to see it as part of the agency's charter to protect against those things ever happening or remediating them if they do in whatever way is open to us."

"Our best defense is something you definitely don't want to see happen," Marc replied coldly.  "Trust me. You just don't. We want to avoid that sort of reaction. So we'd appreciate what assistance you can give to us. Preferably a few minutes warning of something about to occur."

"I was thinking nonviolent options, but I take your point. I would hope," he said, "that the warning would be more than a few moments."

"Appreciate it," Marc replied.

"So why," Stephen asked, speaking up finally, "Did we arrange the meeting today?  Why us and not through channels?"

Rimes grinned.  "Well, it's not like you all think of me as someone to invite over for a cup of coffee or a quick lunch.  If I want us to get to know each other I need to create opportunities."

"Well, as I recall, you found our normal kitchen breakfast scene rather intimidating," Marc said with a grin.

"Any sane man would," Ian commented.  "Your commune is ... beyond words."

"Yes well, I think after today I'll handle it just fine," Rimes said.