Stephen, in fact, had been back for a while, but had decided to check on Charlie Palmer and Baylee before dealing with the Reverend. He still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to handle him He was hoping Clem, expert on all thinks ecclesiastical, might have some idea. He was sure, even after such a brief acquaintance that the Reverend would not respond positively to a request that he promise, on his honor, to never reveal what he had so unhelpfully witnessed this morning. And, there was the small matter of his telepathic talent, minor though it seemed.

His other major problem, what to do about Charlie Palmer's children he had already solved, at least for now. He was going to do nothing. He was going to tell the Council nothing, even though bringing in dependents of any kind for any reason when picking up a New One was strictly forbidden. He was going to wait and see.

He had, he'd discovered, made a number of decisions this morning in the snow while funneling energy to Baylee. The most crucial was that he was done running the Listeners according to the dictates of the Council particularly when it came to people living and dying. He would have to check, but he was fairly sure that every Listener now at the Refuge and most not would back him up on it. And, since he controlled both the Refuge and the New Ones, not to mention the Listeners themselves he was prepared to bet it would be a while before the Council caught on and took action. By then he hoped to be in a position to demonstrate that it was too late.

He'd have to go quietly, though, and slowly. The longer it took the Council to catch on the better. Time was his ally in this as in most things. So his two immediate objectives were to make sure Charlie Palmer and the Reverend, equally sure to ignite a firestorm of reaction, remained unknown to the Council. The first he could do, the second he was hoping Clem could help him achieve. If not, he was willing to lock the man up for a few months if that's what it took.  But surely there had to be another way. It just hadn't come to him yet.

First he wanted to see Baylee and check in with Tommy. He had a number of things he needed Tommy to take care of as soon as possible. He also needed to see Cahill.

It was Cahill he saw first, and who was the easiest of his agenda.  Falling in beside him as the man was heading off for lunch he explained what he wanted. "Cal, the tapes from this morning, I want you to get them to Tommy right away and have him lock them up. I don't want them in the weekly bundle we send to the Council, OK?"

Cal, god love him, made no trouble. He grinned and winked at him.  He also had no problem agreeing to say nothing to anyone about it.

"Did anyone come into the ops center while it was all going on?"

"No, man.It was just me."

"Thanks Cal. I appreciate it. And get the tapes to Tommy as soon as you can, OK?"

"No problem, man. You know that."

"Yeah, I do, but still, I appreciate it."

Leaving Cal at the dining room where Tabitha was serving lunch he went on to his office. Predictably Tommy wasn't there. He wrote a quick note and headed off to the infirmary.

Baylee pushed her hair back from her face and checked again on her patients. Charlie was unconscious and likely to remain so for some time. It was the infants she was more concerned about. She'd done everything she could in the car by accelerating their development enough so that they had a reasonable chance of life, but it was only a reasonable chance. Doing so had drained her. If they went into a crisis she wasn't sure she had the stamina to save them alone.

But, now that she thought of it, maybe it would be better if she died from lack of energy. It would probably be less painful than what Stephen would do to her when he caught up with her. He would ask, in that way of his, what had happened, why she had done something she had clearly known was out of bounds. What could she say? That she hadn't thought, hadn't planned, that some other side of her she hadn't known had taken over her body and refused to let them die? It was true, but it didn't explain a thing.

She didn't believe it was the stillbirth. That had been awful it was true. It still hurt like a knife in her gut, but that wasn't it. It was this other her who seemed to have decided that she got to choose who she healed and who she let die. But if that was it and she told Stephen she would probably never go out with a Team again and there was only one other healer here who did that. So she couldn't tell him that, could she? She couldn't let him down like that. Maybe if she looked pitiful he'd let her alone for a while until she could figure out some plausible story that didn't start with a split personality and end with her being shipped back Home.

She shoved her hair back again and started worrying her thumb and the problem some more.

Stephen studied her from the door, making no move to speak. He was inclined to let her off the hook, to tell her not to worry about it but he couldn't. He had to be able to trust his people in the field, be able to rely on them following orders especially now, given the decisions he was making, had already made. Today had been a simple pick up. Often, though, they happened in places where there were wars and insurrections in progress, riots breaking out, natural disasters in progress and the like. Those sorts of situations did not lend themselves to having to worry whether she was going to do what he told her to do. It didn't matter that he was glad she'd done it, or that he was going to let the babies stay here if that's what their father wanted. What happened today meant he couldn't be sure she could control herself or her gift.

He stepped further into the room and called her name softly, not wanting to startle her. He knew as the years had passed since Doni died she'd cherished hopes that perhaps something might grow in him to match what was in her. He wished, in some ways, it had. But it hadn't and fortunately for them all she hadn't made a thing of it, but she hadn't gotten over it either. Then she'd gotten pregnant, by whom he'd never asked.

She hadn't heard him so he knocked on the door frame and tried again. "Baylee?" That time she heard him.

"Hi." It was a hesitant unsure little sound. He almost smiled.  Then she rushed into speech before he could say anything. "I'm really sorry Stephen, honest I am but I just couldn't leave them there. You know yourself that no one could get to them in time and they would have died and I just couldn't do it. And I know you want to know why but I don't know why except that I'm tired of this, the way it is. I am tired of not helping when I can help, of leaving behind the people that matter most to these folks. I know most times there isn't any one to leave behind, but when there is deciding for them is just wrong. We don't have the right to do that or demand that these people live according to our rules without so much as a by- your-leave. It's wrong. It's just plain, flat, wrong and I can't do it anymore. I won't do it anymore and I'll tell the Council that myself if I have to, but that man isn't going to lose his children, not if I can help it. He lost his wife but he isn't going to lose them." By the time she finished her voice had firmed, gotten stronger and harder.

"Where is his wife by the way?" He asked it by way of an aside. He was expecting to have to ask Clem to conduct the funeral.

"Thea took care of her after I delivered the babies. She laid her out in the small room down the hall. I think she also asked Tommy to find a casket for her."

"I'll have to remember to thank her for that. It's one less thing to worry about today." He paused, picking his next words with great care, aware she was close to overwrought and hadn't recovered from the morning.

"Baylee, I agree with you, as it happens, about this morning. But that isn't really the point as I think you must know. What happened today makes it difficult for me to be able to predict how you'll react sometimes.

"It won't happen again Stephen, I promise you it won't."

"My dear, I know that you mean that, but I think, right now and for a while at least it would be safer for you to not work with the teams." He knew she wanted to protest and didn't give her a chance. "Baylee, it will also be safer for everyone else. Not knowing how you will react makes it difficult to ensure your safety and that of others particularly in situations where things aren't as calm as they were today, the Reverend notwithstanding.' She looked blank at the name but he didn't explain. He just finished what he needed to say to her. "So, for now, you'll take most of the infirmary hours OK. In a couple of weeks, we can talk about this some more. But for now, that's the way it needs to be, I'm afraid."

She nodded miserably, "Yes sir."

"Good, now how are your patients?"

"Charlie has lost a lot of blood, has a crushed pelvis, broken both legs and cracked several ribs. He has cuts and contusions on his face. He also has a slight concussion and is unconscious. I am keeping him that way for a few days to give his body time to mend some before I bring him back to reality. He should recover without lasting damage, other than perhaps a slight limp. The babies are holding their own. I brought their development forward as much as I dared, as I think you know. Right now we can only wait and see. We aren't a neonatal intensive care unit which is where they'd be in the normal course of events, but I think they'll be OK. It was twins by the way, two girls, if you didn't know." She said all mechanically.

"No, I didn't. We'll have to wait and see what Charlie wants to name them. Do you need any help here? In fact, I would be happier if you let some else sit with them while you got some rest."

"I can't. There isn't anyone. There was another call-out so I'm the only healer available right now. Thea went to get some lunch and when she gets back she'll sit with them while I take a nap next door."

Stephen nodded. "Alright. If you need me Tommy knows how to find me. Now, I have decided that I am not going to tell the Council about Charlie or today's events, at least not until I have to do so.  Tell Thea I don't want her discussing them or today with anyone. Or you either. Folks around here are bound to know but I want it kept as quiet as possible.

Baylee didn't know what to say. Fortunately Stephen didn't expect her to say anything.

Brother Dominic, bless him, didn't keep him waiting but showed him straight through to Clem's office.  Brother Gerald just nodded and waved him to the door promising fresh coffee in a jiffy.  So Stephen knocked and hearing the benedicite went in.  He was looking forward to sitting down in one of Clem's over stuffed armchairs and just relaxing.  He felt like he'd run a marathon.  When he finished here he was going to need some extended quiet time to review the decisions he was making and decide how best to proceed, both in terms of implementation and in terms of telling the people who trusted him.  The first ones would, obviously be Liam, Eli and Tabitha.  After that, he wasn't sure.  But for now, there was the armchair and Brother Gerald had promised fresh coffee.

Clem made to rise as he entered but sat down again at a sign from Stephen.  So he passed the remaining sandwiches instead.  "Liam here ate all the roast beef, but there's a ham and a couple of turkey left."

"Anything sounds fine to me.  I apologize for taking so long to get here but I needed to take care of a few things first.  I take it you've met the Reverend?"

Clem grinned, "Met, yes you could call it that.  He knelt and kissed my ring."

 "Now that's very interesting.  Where does he know you from?"

"He doesn't."

At that Stephen's eyebrow flew up.  "I see," he said slowly, processing the data.  "Then how does he know of you?"

"I am not sure, but will let you know.  Now, why have you brought him here?"

"If I were to tell you that the perimeter I set today had no effect on him, what would you say?"

"That you have a problem.  Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what's going on?"

So Stephen told him, start to finish, including Charlie Palmer and the babies.  In between the words he finished off the sandwiches and the pot of coffee.  "So you see," he summed up, "I couldn't leave him running around loose and I don't think appeals to his honor will work.  In fact I am hoping you can help me out here, that you might have some idea what I can do to convince him to keep his mouth shut or that he was dreaming or something."

Clem laughed.  "Before we get to that you might be interested to know that I recently, last week in fact, had some conversation with my friend the nuncio about him."

"Yeah, you could say I'd be interested.  Very interested."

"Well, it turns out that The Reverend Daniel Dudley Day, Knight of Christ is a priest of the LA diocese, one of Mahoney's bunch and doesn't that explain a few things.  But, rather than starting on that tempting topic, I will stick to the subject except to point out that, as the Knights of Christ are not an approved order he shouldn't be introducing himself the way he does.  And, let me tell you," Clem added with some reproach, "No self respecting religious I know runs around introducing themselves as so and so Carmelite or Franciscan or whatever.  It just isn't done.  God! Talk about hubris."

Liam, laughing said, "Yes, you're right, but you're straying from the point.  Not that I think you can blame that lot in LA for the Reverend's peculiarities."

You're probably right.  But, well anyway to get back to the point…Mahoney sent him to Rome to the Dominican Pontifical University there, the Angelicum as it's called, probably to get him out of his hair.  He's studying biblical history and Jewish apocrypha and the kabbalah with a special interest in demonology and angel mythology.  He and three or four other fellows, also priests, are trying to establish a new order known as, you guessed it, the Knights of Christ.  The problem they are running into is that nobody wants them in their diocese because the charism of this new priestly society is the active...meaning they plan to go look for them...active reconversion of the explicitly pagan and when they aren't busy preaching to witches, warlocks and goddess worshippers, as well as other assorted New Agers and non-Christians, they will focus on, and I quote it as it was told to me, "locating, rooting out and banishing demons, exorcizing the possessed and the oppressed, and repossessing and reconsecrating what has been taken and contaminated by the evil one."

Our friend the Reverend is here trying to persuade anyone who will let him try to allow them to establish themselves as a priestly society in their diocese.  So far no one is listening very carefully.  I was under the impression he would be returning to Rome very shortly."

Stephen gaped at him.  Liam was openly guffawing.  Clem joined him.  It really was hilarious when you thought about it.  Every Roman Catholic diocese in the world, like the Anglicans for example, is required by canon law to have an exorcist.  Rome's exorcist, Gabriele Amorth has written books about his experiences; and it is known that he is booked solid, weeks in advance for consultations within the diocese.  Exorcists were starting to have annual meetings, presumably to trade experiences and tips of the trade.  A professional journal with scholarly articles probably wasn't far behind.  So exorcism was still alive and well in the Catholic Church.  Somewhat respectable, but not something you chatted about in front of the children or the servants. 

As a rule, however, exorcists in the Church generally kept a very low profile.  They did not advertise and you wouldn't find them listed in the local diocesan directory nor the website.  They certainly didn't want to be walking down the street one day and have someone point to them and say "Look mommy, that's the exorcist for our diocese." To find one you had to be referred by your pastor or you called the chancery and they took your name and number and someone called you back.  Usually, after listening to your tale of woe, they sent you first to confession and then for a thorough medical and psychiatric evaluation, that is if they thought there was anything in what you were telling them.  If they didn't, they recommended confession anyway, just to be sure.  But a religious order dedicated to dealing with the demonic? Not hardly likely, not in this pontiff's lifetime, anyway.  And, most certainly not one that in its spare time would be making friends wherever they went by annoying the pagans, an effort guaranteed to create a blizzard of negative press and maybe even effect the tax exempt status of the Church in several countries, notably European.

Stephen closed his mouth.  "That is not good news, there, Clem.  I can not allow a person like you're describing loose having seen what he's seen.  He really would end up as a headline for the National Enquirer" He thought for a minute.  "Look, can you convince him to stay here for a few days while I try to come up with something.  Tell him you're interested in his plans for the new order or something.  I would rather he didn't know he can't leave.  It's better if he thinks he's here voluntarily, at least for a while.  Is that possible?"

Clem eyed him narrowly.  He said, slowly, clearly reluctantly, "I can probably manage that, but more than a few days and he's going to want to leave." He thought for a minute.  "If it comes to it, I can get Mahoney to release him to me and place him under obedience.  But I would prefer not to do that.  I'd have to involve Rome and they aren't going to like it, particularly after finding out he knows about me.  That I have to tell them right away."

"Well let's start with a few days and see what happens.  I have no qualms locking him up if I have to, but that is clearly a last resort."

Liam, hitherto a silent witness, contributed his mite, "Oh I don't know. I can see where that might turn out to be the best alternative of them all.  That man should not be running around loose, at least not in a collar."

It was what they all thought, but hadn't said.

Clem rang his bell, sending Brother Gerald for the Reverend

The Reverend had washed Charlie's blood off and was wearing a habit borrowed from the brothers. He had eaten and was clearly feeling more like himself. He confined himself to a low bow towards Clem then took the chair indicated. He ignored Stephen and Liam.

"Your Eminence, I must thank you for the hospitality of your house.  It has been most kind of you."

"It is our pleasure to welcome guests; in welcoming them among us, we welcome Our Lord."

The Reverend inclined his head, "As you say. Hospitality is a duty.  Now however, I really must return to the city. The cardinal will be wondering where I am and perhaps worried that I haven't returned."

Clem, knowing the cardinal, doubted that, but said nothing. In his view the cardinal was probably hoping he'd buried himself in a snow drift.

Stephen wasted no time. "Father Day, unfortunately, the weather being what it is in DC, it just isn't possible to get you back there. The last I heard the entire city was at a standstill and traffic still isn't moving on the Beltway. So I am afraid you will have to accept the hospitality of the monastery for a few days."

The Reverend ignored him and directed himself to Clem. "Is it your opinion that I am unable to return to my duties?"

"Yes, Father, it is."

"Then I should like to phone the cardinal and let him know where I am at."

Stephen inwardly amused replied, "I am afraid the power and phone lines are down. Calling isn't possible. Nor e-mail or cell phones calls I am told. But it shouldn't be for long. Think of it," he added, "as an opportunity to renew your spiritual life." As a dig it was inspired but ineffective.

The Reverend, perhaps wisely, ignored the bait and forced himself to respond to Stephen directly, "Clearly I am to be held here incommunicado until you see fit to allow me to leave. I am however,' he went on, in a voice fit for denouncing heretics from the pulpit, "most surprised at you, Your Eminence," as he turned accusing eyes full upon him, "allowing these men to use me in this manner.  They have clearly deceived you into thinking they are innocent of kidnapping me. I assure you they are not."

Clem, holding onto his patience with difficulty, then committed himself to a course he was later never sure he regretted or not. His voice cold, he said, "You are under my roof Father, and I decide what happens in this house, no one else. So please, do not insult me or yourself by making such accusations." In a milder tone he went on, "It is my wish that you remain and I tell you so frankly. I have heard from the nuncio of your hopes for the foundation of a new order and am most interested in the particulars." Hearing himself he was appalled at the formality of his words. God, he thought, the Reverend's contagious.

His words distracted the Reverend from his grievances. "It would be a privilege, Your Eminence. Anything you wish to know. I could begin right now if you like."

Clem hastened to dissuade him, "Really Father, I have guests and we will have plenty of time to discuss those matters after they leave."

"Well now that that's settled, would you mind, Father, if I asked you a couple of questions?" Stephen cut in after him.

"What is it you wish to know?" the Reverend was polite but distant, eyeing Stephen as if he thought he might attack him.

"Earlier today it became obvious that you possess some rather unique attributes. How did you come by them?"

"Unique attributes? What do you mean?"

Stephen didn't answer aloud. Instead he probed the man's mind again, giving the same push against the same smooth wall.

"Ah, so that is what you mean. I have had it all my life. You are the first, other than the demons I have fought, to communicate with me that way." He said it matter of factly, like it was an everyday thing to be telepathic, or to communicate with demons. Even Clem was somewhat taken aback. "God has given me this gift to further His kingdom, as an aid to fighting the evil one and his allies. It is one of the ways I am able to root them out from their hiding places among us. God told me that it would be a sign to others that what I do is His will, that I am His chosen instrument in these evil and immoral times and can not fail in my mission."

"Your mission?"Stephen prompted, fascinated in spite of himself.

"Yes. My mission. I have been chosen by God and commissioned by the Holy Spirit to rid the world of its infestation of demons in preparation for the End of Days as has been foretold, just as St.  Joan of Arc freed France of the English. St. Michael the Archangel fights at my side when I go into battle. Eventually there will be armies who rise up and will fight along with us under the banner of the Knights of Christ. I warn you now," he added, fixing Stephen with a steely and determined eye and drawing himself up to his full height to denounce him, "I am not all convinced you are not one Satan's allies. And if it turns out you are one of his demons as I suspect, I shall use every means at my disposal to cast you back into the bottomless abyss from whence you came!"

After that there really wasn't anything anyone felt equal to adding.