Laszlo gave the pilot explicit instructions regarding their gear along with an extra thousand…pounds sterling, not American…before helping the doctor move Paul from the jet to the car. Then he gave the driver an address that made the doctor raise an eyebrow before taking his own seat in the back and relaxing against the plush squabs of the limousine.

He had closed his eyes and was successfully thinking of nothing, not even Dinah and his rampant stupidity in leaving her there without him when the doctor called him back to earth.

"Nice work, Laz. You really should have been a surgeon like your mama wanted."

"Man, mama wanted me to leave her the hell alone unless I was sending her money for drugs, you know that. It was Auntie Dottie who had her eye on med school, as I recall...or no…may be not…may be that was Cousin Joey and Granny who were all for med school and daddy who started me in this life of crime."

The doctor laughed. "No, that was Uncle Sam who taught you all you now know and use so well. I was there, remember?"

"Yeah. How could I forget, all the good times we had…the dirt, the noise, the never getting to sleep late, and best of all…the food of the gods…spam, in all it's vomitous forms. Cut the shit, Andy…how is he?"

"He'll be fine. Needs a couple days rest, won't be doing much with the arm for a few weeks, but that's about it.'

"Look, I need to get back to the states as soon as I can, but I don't want to leave him here on his own. Can you take care of him for a few days?"

"Sure, I can do that. He owes me a chance to beat him at gin anyway after that last party you staged around here. Did you finally finish `em off this time?"

"Nope, but I think the action will move to a different theatre for the next engagement. The one we played this trip…well, let's just say the curtain fell on it and it'll be a dark house for a while."

The doctor laughed.

Laszlo helped him get Paul into the apartment and settled in bed. Then he showered and got comfortable on the balcony, a drink in his hand and Chick Corea's Les Incontournables playing mellow and soft in the background while he watched the lights of Johannesburg and pondered the stupidity of men in love with women who didn't know they existed. He had a reservation back to the states on a plane that left in twelve hours. He hoped it wasn't too late.

In the matter of Dinah, he had considered briefly while still on the plane the merits of quickly zapping to the Refuge to check on her and then back to business and rejected it as futile. He needed to be there, not popping in and out for a quick hello. By the time the jet landed back in Johannesburg he'd known, somehow, through some intuition, that it was already too late. Her curiosity about Marc had found a matching spark that turned it into something else. He hoped he was wrong. He didn't think he was, but was willing to hope he wasn't.

He was still hoping when he pulled up to the House in a rental car he'd picked up at Dulles. He'd spent sixteen hours in the air and then it had taken another hour to clear customs, all before making the three hour drive that had just ended. He entered the House and went straight to her room, never for once thinking that it might be better to wait until after he'd had some sleep or some food or something.

Dinah had returned to the Refuge after spending the day with Marc feeling lighter than air. It wasn't until she got back to her room that the name `Laszlo' re-entered her consciousness and rose up to trouble her. She had still reached no satisfactory conclusion regarding her best course for dealing with the puzzle that he was to her when he took the matter out of her hands.

She answered the knock on her door expecting it to be anyone one but Laszlo. She looked at him as her face flamed red and her eyes opened wide, both occurrences annoying her since she had nothing to feel guilty about and the sight of him made her feel like she did.

"Hi," he said to her, leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest.

"Hi."

The awkward pause that followed lasted long enough for Dinah to stop blushing. Then she said, "You're back."

"Obviously."

"Did it go well, whatever it was?"

"Yeah, Paul's hurt but it's minor." He smiled a bit grimly and asked, "Are you going to invite me in?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think I'd like to go for a walk instead. I think we need to talk."

He stood back and motioned for her to precede him. "OK, we can walk."

She waited until they were outside the house, wandering through Eli's garden before she broke the silence, sounding miserable and guilty. "Laz, look…you and I, we…well we've been friends…"

He interrupted her then, wanting to make it easy for her, already knowing what she was going to say, just as he'd known for hours. "We've been friends for a long time." He stopped her from walking on, his hand on her arm holding her in place. "Look at me, would you? I'm not going to beat you, for chrissake."

"I know, she said," her voice low. "It's just I feel so bad…"

"You've nothing to feel bad about. It's my fault. I should have said or done something sooner. I didn't. I waited too long and lost my chance. You've done nothing wrong."

"I didn't know, not until the other day…Laz…please, I didn't mean to ever lead you on…"

He couldn't stand it. In a minute she was going to start crying and he just couldn't stand it. He had to get out of here, now, fast, before he did something he'd regret forever. The words came in a rush, his breathing loud in the air between them, "Dinah, I love you. I don't think that'll ever change. But that's my problem, not yours. I wish it was me that you wanted. It's not. I'm still your friend; I'm still here if you need me." He could hear his voice starting to crack and he stopped, drawing breath and focusing hard. When he thought he had it back under control he said, his voice harsh and deadly, "But if he hurts you I swear, I'll kill him." Then he turned on his heel and left before he said anything else.

Jordon looked up from working on the rotations in the Ops Center for the coming month in time to see Duncan enter the office and start to walk past him like he owned the place, getting ready to walk in on Cassidy. He stood up, clearing his throat pointedly and said, "Mr. Crawford?"

Duncan glared at him. "Aye? Who are ye then?"

"I'm Jordon Sinclair, Mr. Cassidy's aide. You're here to see Mr. Cassidy? He asked you to come by I believe?"

"Asked me? More like I was ordered ta come see him."

"Yes, well, if you'll just have a seat, I'll let him know you're here."

"Ye do that, sonny. Ye just do that."

Duncan eyed the available chairs while Jordon watched, waiting until he was seated before knocking and then entering the inner office. He closed the door securely behind him and grinned at Cassidy. "Well he's here, sir. And belligerent as…well very belligerent."

"Think he's liable to calm down if he sits for a few minutes?"

"No sir, not a chance I'd say." Jordon grinned again. "Is this what they mean by trial by fire?"

Cassidy gave a short laugh. "Yeah, I think so. It could be worse I suppose. So far he's been the only problem and we expected that." He sighed. Alright, Jordon, quit grinning and send him in."

"Right. Want the door opened or closed? Me in or out?"

"Closed and you out but don't wonder off."

"Right." Jordon left and returned a moment later, announcing Duncan and then closed the door behind him before returning to the rotations.

Inside Cassidy stood and eyed his visitor, his face neutral and gestured to him to take a seat. "Please, come in. I don't think we've been formally introduced." He held out his hand as he said, "I'm Sebastian Cassidy. Thanks for coming by to see me."

Duncan eyed the hand extended to him and waited a full minute before grasping it briefly with his own. Then he took a seat saying, "Dinna think I'd a choice about the visit. Cahill made it plain I'd ta come regardless."

Cassidy sat down before replying. "I'm sorry it was conveyed that way. It seemed to me that it might be good for everyone if you and I had a chance to get to know each other since we're going to be working closely together."

"Did ye now? And why would that be?"

"I understand you've some concerns about me being given this position and rather than allowing you to continue to air them to everyone but me, I thought it might be better to simply give you the opportunity to address them with me personally."

Duncan answered him, making no attempt to hide his contempt. "Did ye now. Well, that's mighty big of ye, I must say. And since yer asking me so polite an' all I'll tell ye ta yer face, that being what yer wanting. Ye ain't qualified for the job, ye ain't a Listener, ye ain't got the first bloody clue what goes on out in the field 'cause ye ain't ever bin there. I ain't takin' orders from ye and if ye try to tell me again how ta handle a call I'll make ye wish ye hadn't."

He stood up and was heading for the door as he finished, "I'll take orders from Stephen 'cause he knows what he's doin', he's one of us. Ye ain't. Don't try it again."

Cassidy stopped him with a look, saying pleasantly, "If you walk out that door now, Mr. Crawford, you're off the teams for good. Or you can stay and we can discuss this. It's up to you."

"Ye firing me? Ye ain't got the balls. And if yer ignorant enough ta think ye do, Stephen'll never let ye."

"I assure you, Mr. Crawford I do have the balls," his voice still pleasant, but with an underlying authority that Duncan either ignored or didn't hear, "I also have Stephen's full support in the matter."

"Really?" he sneered, as he opened the door. "How `bout I just go ask him, `cause I think yer not only incompetent, I think yer probably a liar as well." Duncan didn't wait for a reply. Instead he flung open the door and was out of the office heading for the infirmary before Jordon, in response to Cassidy's shout, could stop him.

By the time they caught up with him, Reno following, he'd reached the infirmary and was pounding on Doni's door.

Baylee arrived for her shift as healer and knew immediately something was wrong. The others didn't quite meet her eyes. She checked the notes left for her regarding current plans for patients and saw a hand written note on the top.

It directed her to report to the Infirmary office when she checked in.

She stared at the note, not pleased at all. She decided to ignore it. She went about her usual routine upon assuming a shift. She was about ready to start making rounds when she realized there was total silence in that section of the infirmary. She turned around to see Marc Rogatien standing in the doorway to the infirmary office. He was leaning against the doorframe, his feet crossed, his arms crossed, and a frown on his face. "My patience is limited, Ms Dalton. Please join me."

Baylee flushed at his tone. But she could hardly refuse him outright in front of everyone. Besides, she wasn't sure what he wanted. So she marched past him into the small office. He watched her go by and then closed the door before he walked over to where she stood looking out a window, rather than looking at him.

"I'm reassigning you to Home, Ms Dalton."

She whirled around at that. 'You don't have the right! Stephen makes personnel decisions."

"Yes, well, Sebastian Cassidy is handling things now, and he and I have assigned you Home."

"I... I'm the best healer you have here!" she replied, fighting back emotions that were struggling to escape her control.

"Yes, You are. But you will be a better healer if you return Home and take some additional training I've arranged."

"But," Baylee said.

"Accept the assignment with grace, Ms Dalton. You've no choice, I'm afraid. Besides, with the upheaval on Home they need you there more."

"Who's taking my place," she demanded, stunned to think this was actually happening.

"Not your concern, Ms Dalton."

"Who dammit!"

Marc raised an eyebrow. "Since you are insistent on hearing this, and as I'm quite sure you've guessed already, Doni will, when she is fully recovered."

That was when someone pounding on a nearby door interrupted them.

Marc, perhaps thinking to give her time to get her emotions under control, walked to the exit and opened it to see an angry Duncan Crawford pounding on the door to Doni's private room, Stephen stepping out of it, in only his jeans, Sebastian Cassidy, Reno and Jordon all clustered gaping at Duncan.

"Duncan!" Stephen's voice was cold, the suppressed rage palpable.

Duncan either ignored it or missed it completely. "I'm here ta ask ye ta yer face if yer still the man ye were or whether ye put a bloody incompetent with no idea what we do in charge of the people who've had ye back for as long as you've needed us ta 'cause ye ain't up ta it na more.

"Yes, I have given Mr. Cassidy operational control. I take it you have a problem with that."

"Ye take it right! I ain't takin' orders from a man who ain't never been in the field or taken the risks I have."

"I see." Stephen's voice had gotten deadly soft.

"And now he's saying he's got yer permission to fire me."

"Mr. Cassidy doesn't need my permission on a case by case basis; he has my authority in all personnel matters. I made that clear when I introduced him to you. So if he feels that it is better for the operation and the mission then he is within his authority to terminate your participation on the teams, temporarily or permanently."

"That's all ye have ta say to me? Ye think ye can just toss me out on me ass when ye think ye don't need me anymore. Ye think ye gonna get away with this?"

"I think so Duncan, and I think it would be better if you left immediately."

"I think I'll be leaving when I want, not when ye say, unless ye think ye can back it up."

Marc cleared his throat which was enough to make Duncan turn on him. "And ye! Suddenly coming down here, and grasping power. Just like the Council! You've been wanting ta break up the Refuge ever since it was formed. Keepin' us from doin' our jobs, and now ye come down here and tell us and Stephen what te do!" Duncan was beyond reason at this point.

Marc walked over to look Duncan in the eye. "In short, yes. Now get out before I put you out."

Duncan laughed, his eyes glittering. "Aye, ye wish. And ye think if ye toss me out that's the end of it, that it'll just be me ye gotta deal, with? Go ahead then ye bastard."

Marc met his eyes and raised a hand. Duncan found himself flung back against the wall behind him. Marc advanced. "Do you need more of a demonstration?"

Duncan gathered power from behind Marc, pulling it from the electrical system, shattering the wall and flung it straight at him, the overspray arcing past him towards Stephen, and Doni who'd been a silent witness, catching Stephen as he flung himself backwards carrying Doni to the ground with him.

Marc was still standing untouched by Duncan's attack. He now looked furious and he raised his hand, this time sending Duncan through the wall. He advanced to Duncan, who was trying to scramble to his feet and picked the channeller up with one hand, letting him dangle in the air. "You are not fit to be on an Ops Team. Your anger and lack of concern for others here who are hurt and healing, proves that. Now, either get out or I'll put you out."

Reno said his voice a bit shaky, "Don't... "

Marc turned on him, fury still in his eye. But as he looked at Reno, he seemed to gather his own emotions and looked at Duncan whom he still had a hold of. "Your move," Marc said.

Duncan spat in his face.

If Duncan thought he could do that and just zap out, he got a very frightening surprise. Not only couldn't he transport out, when he tried to gather more energy to attack, he found he could do nothing. In fact, he suddenly found himself on his knees in front of Marc who was just then looking like the Angel of the Abyss. His eyes were glowing as he gathered power to himself. The others could feel it, growing around him.

Stephen making a swift calculation, reached, pulling the power Marc was gathering to himself and sent it outward, destroying the exterior wall without regret. He continued, not fighting Marc, just pulling away the energy as fast as it formed around him.

Marc realizing what was happening, stopped himself. He looked a thank you at Stephen, then said to Duncan. "Get out before I do something I'll regret."

Duncan stood, trembling with rage and snarled, "This ain't over. Not by a longshot." He spat again, at Marc's feet, and was gone.

"If he returns to the Refuge I want to know about it," Marc said, and turned on his heel and walked out and away.

Reno, looking white-faced, let out a long-held breath.

Stephen looked at Cassidy, and at the mess and the crowd around him in the doorway. He grinned and said, with a mock salute "You're in charge, Mr. Cassidy." Then he turned, and taking Doni with him, left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Tommy, who'd arrived in the middle of things, looked at Reno. "You okay?"

Reno replied, "Oh yeah. I wonder if Duncan knows just how close he got to becoming a pile of ash."

Jordon grinned. "Guess we've established the pecking order. But I sure hope this isn't going to delay dinner. I'm starving."

Anger. It had always been his enemy. He had a cruel streak in him that seemed to thrive on it. For so many years, he'd tried to contain it, shape it, utilize it in ways that were constructive rather than destructive. If Stephen and Reno hadn't ... Well, they had. He'd avoided turning Duncan into inert molecules, but only just. Now he just needed to be alone, alone to get his emotions under control, in some semblance of order.

Marc's mind was wholly inner directed when he came down the main staircase aiming at the main doorway. So he didn't even see anyone close to him until he nearly collided with the man. He, the man, was carrying some luggage and was probably intent on leaving in the rental car Marc's eyes had noted but his attention hadn't. But then, when the man said, "Hey, mate. Watch where you're goin'" more hissed than said, Marc's brain finally identified the man as Laszlo, someone he'd wanted to talk to at some point. But now was definitely not the moment.

"Sorry," Marc replied gruffly and began to walk past when Laszlo said, sarcastically, half under his breath, "Obviously a graduate of the anger management institute; that'll work well." Marc found himself stopping between one step and the next and turning around to meet Laszlo's eyes. "One graduate to another?" Marc replied.

Laszlo leaned back against the car, his arms folded across his chest, "You thinking I might want some tips, then?"

"Not unless you want to graduate from the advanced course. I will give you one tip, for free, however. Now is not the time for verbal jousting." Marc was angrier at himself the moment he said it. He turned and ordered himself to just walk away.

Laszlo started to just let him go. Then he reached out and grabbed his arm, saying as Marc turned, "Then how 'bout this sort?" and let loose with a right that connected with Marc's jaw. "Is it the time for this?" as he went to follow it with another right.

Marc had no idea, well not specifically, why this guy had just hit him, but then his emotions were drowning out his thinking gland. He blocked Laz's second right and followed up with a solid fist into Laz's stomach. As Laz bent over trying to get in some air, Marc followed up with a slug toward Laz's jaw. Laz, street fighter that he was, retaliated with an uppercut that took Marc by surprise.

Dinah, returning to the House after a bout of feeling miserable while weeping into the rosemary, presumably for remembrance, arrived just as Marc landed a left that started blood streaming from Laz's nose and so had a good view of the jab that followed splitting Marc's lip. In true female fashion she said not a word. She walked over to where Eli had left the garden hose coiled neatly, turned the spigot on full blast, set the nozzle to narrow and let loose on the pugilists.

Both men, their indignation now fully aroused, turned toward their mutual attacker, only to discover it was Dinah. Marc dropped his defenses leaving himself open to Laz. Laz, ignoring the opportunity, had his eyes glued to Dinah, waiting for her next move.

Dinah just glared at them, demanding "Are you done?" and raised the nozzle, ready to cool them down again if the answer didn't please her. Bemused they both nodded. "Then that's just fine," she snapped, throwing the hose away and stalked past them into the house without saying another word.

Marc wiped blood from his split lip with his shirt sleeve and eyed Laszlo warily. "We done?"

Laz nodded, also wiping blood away. "Woman of action, that's our Dinah. Improvises well, too. Sure you're ready for that?"

"I beg your pardon," Marc said, at a loss as to how this fellow knew... well, knew anything.

Laz grinned. "You and Dinah....I was there, remember, when she landed in your lap. Here, come on...," He said, moving towards the House, "I know where Tabitha keeps the ice bags, you're gonna need one." 

They headed toward the kitchens and the ice, Marc trying to figure out what Dinah landing in his lap had to do with anything.

Once they had the ice, and suffered through laughs and grins from those in the kitchen area, they repaired to the kitchen garden where they ministered to their wounds.

They took a seat on a bench there and eyed each other.

"You and Dinah.." Marc said, leaving that trail off to be completed by Lazslo any way he wanted to. Laszlo looked at him, answering slowly, "Are friends...that's the way she wants it, which is not, for the record, the way I want it...as you may have guessed."

Marc took a minute to digest that. He'd been hung over, headachy and pretty miserable at the time she landed in his lap. He distinctly remembered finding it funny, but hardly sexually intriguing.

"I had no idea," Marc finally said thoughtfully. "Likely had your mind on other things. I've known her a long time...and didn't have my mind on other things."

"Oh," was all Marc managed. Then after a bit of icing his lip he added, "She didn't say she was involved. I should have asked."

Laz took the ice bag off his nose. "Look, don't get the wrong idea here. She wasn't involved, she hasn't been since Mac..." 

"And you've been hoping and somehow I come along. Ah. Well, I expect she's just curious. She'll be going home soon and I won't be seeing her. So patience is the ticket."

Laz stared at him, looking as if he wasn't sure he'd heard the man right. "I don't know, it's not as if she and I have had deep and meaningful conversations on the subject. She does what she wants to do, she always has. But if you think you've gotten in the way of something that otherwise would definitely have happened, well...let's just say I admire your optimism."

"I've never understood women," Marc groused.

"I've actually started to think that Stephen has had the right idea all these years. He doesn't try to understand them, he just kisses them witless and then asks them flat out what the hell is going on."

"Hmmm," Marc replied. "Any other advice from my fellow graduate?"

"Yeah. There's one thing if you're gonna spend any time with her at all. She hates thunderstorms, they terrify her...she really shouldn't be left to deal with 'em alone if they're really bad...like the one the other day."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Marc said staring up at his house that was taking shape on the side of a mountain. "Listen, I'm ... I'm sorry, Laszlo. I'd like to remain allies, if that is possible under the circumstances. But given my track record with relationships, well... Give it some time."

Laszlo grinned at him, his eyes dancing with mirth. "The way I figure it, if I stick around the inevitable comparisons can only rebound to my advantage. And, women like men who can be friends with their rivals, or so I'm told. Makes us look emotionally mature or something."

Marc started to laugh, which got his lip to bleeding again. After a moment he said ruefully, "I think we've both got a way to go to convince her we're anything even close to mature."

"Then I say why worry about it. So, just to seal a friendship that has begun so auspiciously, I think a drink would be in order...." Laz tossed the ice away and started to stand up. "By the way you don't happen to play poker do you?"

"A drink sounds like a plan. As to poker, I'm better at chess." They both got up and headed toward the nearest stash of booze.