Some time during the night it had started raining, a steady misting rain of the sort that made farmers happy. With the rain fog had descended on the Refuge and across the whole of the range, with the tops of the mountains lost in the clouds, bathing everything is silvery haze. Stephen ignored it as he walked along the path to the cemetery. He needed to think, he'd decided and he couldn't do that in his office so he'd decided to come out here.

He considered again the implications of being suspended from the Council for an indefinite period of time and found he didn't mind.  As a Council member his duty was to uphold and enforce the Covenant, and to function within the Council as a member while also representing the Council as a whole to the Awakened. He couldn't believe how freeing it felt to be out from under that burden.

He needed to talk with Eli and Tabitha and Liam and probably everyone else, too. He needed to tell them what he was going to do since if he did it and they were there, willy-nilly they were involved. That wasn't such an issue for Eli and Tabitha, but for everyone else it was. He felt he owed them the opportunity to decide for themselves what they were going to do, especially now that Reno and Marc were moving in, at the very least. The trouble was every instinct he possessed was screaming at him not to do it; telling him this one needed to be managed on a need to know basis for as long as possible.    

Reno and Marc moving in, now there was interesting news.  He got to the cemetery and leaned against the split rail fence. Doni had always said there was more to Marc than met the eye and she hadn't meant the more that one expected of a man as talented and complex as he was nor the more of girl talk. She meant something else but had never been able to pin it down. The best she could do was to say that Marc had a past that was here in the present and if he were a woman she'd say it was a man and a tragedy. Doni knew all about having a past that lived in the present.  Eli despised him, but that was about thinking the man had failed in his responsibility as a member of the Council simply by not being there. 

He looked out, past the cemetery, and considered the last ten years and the vision he had for the Awakened. He'd put it in mothballs when Doni had died and the Council had retrenched. He'd placed himself in mothballs as well, he thought now, when Doni died in an act of self indulgence he'd have deplored in another and had despised in himself even as he had felt powerless to prevent it.  He abandoned all but the most immediate and day to day of his responsibilities. Standing there, staring at her grave he felt a surge of gratitude towards Charlie for forcing an end to it. 

Looking around he saw again what he had seen in the first days after they'd arrived; the length of the valley with the monastery at the bottom and the mountains rising behind.  He saw too at the top of the valley the Compound as it had once been; a village in its own right and now mothballed, too. 

The Refuge had been established as the van guard of integration, a place where Awakened and non would live side by side, the Awakened out in the open. It was a place to support the rescue and care of the New Ones, to teach them to deal with what they'd become, then to aid them in re-entering their lives here on earth, among the rest of humanity. It was to be, for any who needed it, exactly what the name implied, a refuge, a place to find help whether the refugee was Awakened or not. They were there to place their gifts at the service anyone who needed them.

The Council, in their fear during the attacks, had demanded that the non-Awakened leave, except for the folks at the monastery, about which they could do little, and select others allowed there on a case-by-case basis such as Richard. They had stopped all efforts to lay the groundwork for integration. They'd pulled all the Awakened back Home and, after the attacks stopped, removed most of the Listeners from the Refuge as well. What he'd decided to do, quietly and without fanfare, was to begin again, in direct defiance of the Council. To do that he would need help, more help than currently available now. He knew where and how to get it, but to do that would also be another act of defiance.

He didn't care about the defiance; he was worried about precipitating an open break. He fully expected, given they had no real way to avoid it, that the Council would appoint the commission to do as he suggested. But that and the realization of its fruits would take years while the exact nature of its fruits was open to question and not something to simply leave in the hands of the gods. He wanted, even needed, here and now, to achieve some measure of what he knew could be achieved, what it was time to achieve, so that the evidence of it could be used to influence the commission in the direction he wanted it to go.

But Marc and Reno in that respect were going to be a problem. He could either try to do this without them realizing, probably a futile effort or simply proceed, discreetly to be sure and without being obvious, and let them respond. In every other respect he couldn't care less that they were coming. Let them. Let them come and look, and participate, he thought, and who knows what they might learn. Yes, participate. Reno at least wasn't going to get to just sit on his ass looking attractive. There was too much work and too much need, even without his plans, for that to happen.

He took a deep breath and letting it out slowly he felt that whisper of feeling that was like the touch of Doni, that elusive something across his mind and trailing behind it like a haunting the something that was more than a memory of her scent and less. The rain felt like tears on his face, her kiss on his lips. The mist as it surrounded him was the promise of a haven and an embrace he had lost forever. When the agony of the loss of her retreated back to the place where it lived, quiescent but never dead he swore to her and to himself that he was done forever with mothballs.

Twenty minutes later, his clothes dry and his hair damp, he was at his desk, Tommy followed him in, put a cup of coffee in front of him and then sat, waiting for the day's instructions.

Stephen took a long drink, and savored it while he organized in his mind the things that needed to be done next. Instead of giving Tommy the signal to start the day's briefing he said, "Tommy, my long suffering friend," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I need you take care of a few things. "

Tommy just flipped to clean page in his pad and waited.

First, I want you to dig out the file on Laszlo for me. I think it's been fifteen or more years since it saw the light of day so you're going to need to bring it up to date. Find out everything you can about him, as quietly as you can. I don't want him to know we're poking around. I want it in 72 hours. Eli can help you. Then set up a meeting with him for sometime early next week. Tell him I'll meet him where ever he wants when ever he wants."

Tommy looked up, "How do I reach him?"

Stephen shoved a scrap of paper across the desk towards him. "Call that number and leave a message. According to Dinah he'll call back within twenty-four hours. Tell him I want to talk to him and leave the number without the country or area code. That's all you say. 'Stephen needs a meeting and the number.'  Then destroy that piece of paper, preferably by mouth.  When you talk to him, let him call the shots. He'll tell you when, where and most importantly, how we'll make contact."

Tommy didn't bite.  "Why the spook stuff?"

"Read the file. You'll need to anyway to get started."

"He got a last name?"

"Not that he shares." Guessing, because Tommy went back to writing, that the questions were over he went on to the next item. "I need to see Eli and Liam, separately. Let 'em know and that I'd like it to be before lunch tomorrow." Stephen, rhythmically flexing and relaxing a rubber band, consulted the list in his head. "Find out from Clem when he's got some time today, and tell him it's important."

Tommy halted him with his pencil.  "Any preference on your part?"

"No, whatever works for him. Now, you saw the note from Reno?" He pulled the rubber band back with a paperclip and began aiming his new sling shot.

"Sure. Hard to miss." Tommy looked offended he even had to ask.

"Give 'em the two bedroom suite on the third floor and sort out an office as far from this one and the ops center as logistically possible. Let Tabitha know so she can open 'em up and get 'em ready. They'll be here in two days he said. Or at least Reno will be. Then, and it needs to be done before they arrive, have keypad locks put on their doors…office and suite…my office and the ops center. "

Tommy's eyebrows rose but he saved the speculation and kept writing. "Anything else?"

Stephen let the paperclip go, hitting the wall opposite where it bounced and hit the trash can, apparently often used for this sort of entertainment. He loaded up again. "Yeah. Get Sam Watkins down here and have him open up the Compound. I want him to go over every inch of it and make sure everything is still sound and works like it should. I want a break down of what needs to be done and how long it'll take along with materials and cost. Tell him he'll need his guys. When he asks why, as he will, or anyone else for that matter, tell him that Clem thinks he might be able to put it to use but wants to know the current condition and a breakdown on what repairs might be required. Sam and his team can probably stay there at Kate's Inn. Let Tabitha know and she'll take care of it."

Tommy's eyebrows had just about disappeared past his forehead and into his hair. He looked at Stephen and decided to confine himself to his usual laconic, "Got it, Boss."

"And would you mind, before you get started on all that, getting me some more coffee and maybe something to eat? And send Adam in to see me. He's got the duty today, or at least," Stephen amended dryly, "He had it when I did the schedule."

Tommy ignored the dig, focusing on the more seriously risky aspect of his morning. "Should I tell Tabitha the food's for you or let her think it's me she's doing the extra work of fixing a tray for with breakfast still on the buffet? And would that be before or after I tell her about all the other work she suddenly has to do?"

Stephen didn't answer; he just let the next paper clip fly. It was a perfect bull's eye, hitting Tommy square in the chest. "Just kiss her for me."

Stephen was still eating when Adam arrived. His mouth full of melon, he waved Adam to a chair with his fork and motioned for him to help himself to some coffee. As he complied, the differences between this summons and the first time he’d faced Stephen across the polished expanse of his desk struck him forcibly.

Then he’d been an adolescent, somewhere between childhood and manhood, resentful, afraid and confused, and filled with grief. His world had ended in an earthquake, literally, that had killed all of his family and many of his friends just days before. He had been unable to imagine any future, sitting across from Stephen that day and had refused to believe anyone who’d suggested any differently.

It had been the beginning of the attacks on the Listeners and Stephen had given him a choice. Stay here and help or be sent Home. He’d stayed, though why he couldn’t have said until almost two years later, after working harder than he’d ever imagined he could as Richard’s aide and succeeding at it, while also squeezing out time to work on his sculpture. He’d woken up one morning to discover that he’d become an adult, almost despite himself and that his art had a new depth and dimension that he’d never imagined, and that he had a life and a future that he found compelling, fulfilling, and exciting.

He’d said yes, he discovered, because Stephen had simply assumed he could and would do it, that he would be able to rise above the resentment and fear and accept a challenge that was only dimly sensed and not at all understood. Stephen had respected him, as an adult something no one had ever done before, not even his parents--and definitely not his older brother, who'd insisted right up to the last time Adam’d seen him that Adam was 'wasting his time' on anything as 'impractical' as art.

After Richard had left, Stephen had assigned him to the ops center and to the tender ministrations of Cahill as his teacher, who had honed his Recorder’s gift in ways that had also further refined his artist’s eye and talent. Now, he along with Cahill, Phoebe and Michael and their staff ran the ops center on a daily basis, one of them there all the time, responsible for every aspect of both monitoring the teams in the field and the current situation around the world, identifying, categorizing and evaluating situations where the conditions might provide the right catalyst for triggering a New One, such as war, revolution and disaster.

He sat back in his chair, coffee in hand and waited for Stephen to tell him why he’d sent for him. It occurred to him that all those years ago, in this situation, he’d be wondering what he’d done wrong and how he’d gotten caught even while knowing he’d done nothing wrong.

Stephen swallowed some coffee, forked the piece of melon into his mouth and evaluated the man across from him. Moderately tall, in a polo shirt and jeans, he wore his hair somewhat long and parted in the middle. An intelligent face and a sensitive one, attractive in its way and one that looked lived in. His eyes were clear and met his openly, relaxed and confident. He set the cup down and pushed a photo across the desk towards Adam. “That,” he said as Adam picked it up to look at it, “is a man named Laszlo as he looked about fifteen years ago.” When Adam looked up again he continued, “I am going to be meeting with that man sometime next week and I want you to come with me.”

Adam nodded. “No problem. Where?”

“I don’t know yet. Adam, this isn’t going to be your average meeting. That man will take precautions to ensure he arrives and leaves unnoticed and unmolested. He will make sure I am alone and no one is using me to get to him. He will also make very sure he isn’t followed when he leaves.”

Adam just looked at him. “You’re kidding, right? That sounds like something right out of James Bond."  He couldn't entirely repress a chuckle at the image.

“Yes. But I want that man to do some work for me, so I am willing to play it any way he wants and that’s the way he’s going to want it. But I also want some other things as well and for one of them I need your help.”

“Okay, but I can’t imagine how I can help with something like this."

“You’re going to be there, as unnoticeable as I can make you and you’re going to Record the entire thing. Laszlo will probably pick a very busy, very public place where he can also ensure he and I can be private and absolutely unheard while maintaining several options as to an exit. I want you there, long before either of us, maybe sitting and sketching, depending on the location and it’s amenability to something like that. You will Record everything and you will make every unobtrusive, unnoticeable effort possible to pick him out of the crowd before he and I meet. In the event that you are able to do that, you will convey the image and whatever other information you may note, such as mode of transportation, companions, route of arrival, what have you to me, -pathically, on a very tight connection. I am trying to get a more recent picture but it’s a long shot. But, regardless of whether you are able to do that part, you will Record everything and continue to do so until I tell you to stop no matter what else happens. Are you willing to give it a shot?”

"All right.  But what happens if he catches me?”

“Nothing to you, as I will ensure. I, however, will probably have a much more difficult time convincing him to do what I want him to do.”

“I take it you aren’t going to tell me what that is.”

“You take it correctly.”

“What if someone else, you know, a third party, is there and starts something?”

“Well, in that case, we play it by ear, but if Laszlo needs help we do what we can, though I doubt very much it’ll break bad like that. He’s a professional and plays with some pretty serious folks, also professionals, but most of them play by the rules and gun battles, for instance, in crowded and public places only happen in the movies since it’s only in the movies that that sort of notoriety is considered a good thing.  Plus, he’s a very experienced man who’s been doing this for a very long time and is, therefore, very good at it. Otherwise he would be dead, not experienced. He, incidentally, will also do everything in his power to ensure this is just a friendly chat sans craziness.  So, want to give it a shot?”

Adam nodded again.  "You can count me in."

Stephen eyed him carefully. “Let me be clear here about a couple of things. This is going to be low key, uneventful and boring. No games, no heroics, nothing to liven things up, right? Simple, easy and you do exactly what you’re told.”

“Of course. You know that.” Adam was indignant. “I’m not a cowboy.”

“The other thing is, you discuss this with no one, and that includes Cahill, Michael and your current and any future, how shall I describe them…well let’s just call them partners, shall we.” Stephen’s voice was teasing while his eyes conveyed his dead seriousness.

"Stephen, I never discussed Richard's stuff, and I had plenty of chances.  You know that; so you should know you can trust me with this."

“Adam, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, or I wouldn’t be asking you to do this. It’s that I want to hear you say that you understand what’s going on here, and that when it’s over, it will be like it never happened, ok?

“OK.  I understand."  But the tone of his voice made it clear that Adam was still somewhat offended.

Stephen sighed and shoved his plate to the side. “I am trying to make sure you do not get tarred with the consequences of my crimes, OK? I am trying to protect you, not offend you or malign your honor.”

Adam nodded, suddenly aware that there were deeper currents here than he had realized. There were rumors, and had been since the Council meeting, that Stephen was planning something that wouldn’t sit well with the Council. He’d also heard that the Elders were sending someone to keep an eye on them because they didn’t trust Stephen anymore, not since Charlie Palmer. A lot of folks were waiting to see what Stephen was going to do next. Adam decided he was now one of them.