When Spence finally allowed Jolie to put her panties back on she blew him kisses and headed for her room to shower.  After, she concluded food was the next line item on her list and made a beeline for the dining room.  Keeping up with Spence required a lot of calories.

As she ate she considered her twin problems…life after burnout and Dinah on the cliff edge.  Jolie and Dinah had been friends since childhood, had grown up like sisters, in and out of each other’s houses and, as often, in and out of trouble.  Jolie could read Dinah like a book and knew Dinah could read her as well and was grateful she’d refrained from prying to deeply into the reason for her, Jolie’s, extended and unprecedented vacation.  She wasn’t planning to return the favor in the matter of Dinah’s love life.

But she was heading for the South of France with Spence, whenever that happened so what was she going to do, after she had the obligatory session of girl talk with her friend? It was the question she preferred to ponder that was urgent enough that she could without a qualm push burnout back to the recesses of her mind again.  She was still examining possible solutions when she saw Stephen cross the lobby and head for the office where Dinah was currently going over the books with Mabel.  It was Mabel leaving the office shortly thereafter that gave her the answer.  Jolie had taken Mabel’s measure from day one and was sure Mabel had her number as well, so her plan gave her no worries at all.

Jolie gulped the rest of her coffee, headed after her and joined her at a table in the pool area.

Hiya, Mabel.  Recovered from last night?” Jolie asked, waving at Xavier to bring more caffeine.

Mabel eyed Jolie as she sat down.  Considering that Mabel drank regularly one glass of red wine with dinner and that was that, it was obviously a rhetorical question.

"You look...content." Mabel finally settled for as Xavier brought Jolie coffee and Mabel tea.

Jolie grinned.   "I am.   I suppose since ultimately I wouldn't have met him if you hadn't taken this job I owe it all to you.   Thank you."

"He's a nice young man.  You have good taste.  What else is on your mind?"

"He is.   Nicer than I deserve, probably." Jolie drank some coffee and considered her approach.   "Dinah's on my mind.   On your's too, I'd guess."

Mabel stirred her tea thoughtfully.   "Agreed.  Have you any ideas on helping her deal with her current, uhm, difficulties?"

"Well, Spence has asked me to go back to France with him when he leaves and I don't know how soon that'll be.   Any ideas?" Jolie said.

"She's a grown woman.  She knows what she wants," Mabel hedged.

"I see.   I was actually asking when you thought Jules would be heading back." Jolie clarified.

Mabel eyed Jolie balefully.  "You don't much care when they leave.  But so far as I can tell, Julian is in no hurry to go.  He misses Adele dreadfully.  And since the Prince of France returned to her chateau and he's lost his best friend Jean de la Mare as a daily troublemaking companion, well, he's rather at sixes and sevens.  I think Spencer might want to go back to France just to be sure all the details of Julian's financial world are doing fine.  He'd come back here if you asked him to after he's done that, I dare say."

Jolie filed that away to consider after she talked to Dinah.   It might be a better plan for now.

Mabel's head cocked for a moment toward the dining room.

"Is something wrong?" Jolie asked.

"No.  It's for the best I think.  So, about Dinah."

"Well, I'm not suggesting direct interference, though for two cents I'd....but never mind that.   And, anyhow, it wouldn't work.   She's stuck on him, end of story.   I'm gonna try to talk to her, but I don't expect much.   What I'm talking about is having a plan for when she gets sliced and diced.   I don't mean I think Marc's the type to do it deliberately.   I think he's not going to think he has a choice, even if he's wrong.   So, what I'm hoping is, is that if I'm not here, you'll let me know if something happens, because she won't.   She's the type, she'll be bleeding to death and call it a paper cut."

Mabel considered that and finally nodded.  "You can be assured that if she needs you, for anything, I'll be sure to let you know.  And Julian can go and bring you back if he's still here."

Jolie nodded.   "Thanks Mabel.   I appreciate it.   And I'll talk to Spence about what you suggested, I think, after I talk to Dinah.   Other than that I don't know of anything else to do."

"He's not the sort of man who is easy to love, Jolie.  That doesn't necessarily mean he's not worth the pain and sorrow.  Simply that, well, it really is only Dinah who can decide if the relationship is worth the cost."

"I agree.   I'm not the one liable to take that decision out of her hands under the banner of knowing what's best for her."

"I doubt she'd let you in any event," Mabel commented.  "But she's a strong woman.  Knows what she wants.  Goes after it.  She'll be fine in the end."

"It's the here to the end I'm worried about.   But...it's not my call...just my job to hold the kleenex box if she needs it."

Mabel patted her hand.  "You just go and enjoy Spence.  You've your own decisions to make.  He'd like to show you France, well our France which is not exactly what normals see.  Don't you worry about Dinah.  If she needs you, I'll see that you're here for her."

"Thanks Mabel.   I will.  And I'm sure Spence thanks you as well."

Marc Rogatien was sitting at a table in the dining room just on the other side of an open window.  He'd been unaware of his surroundings, his thoughts on Dinah and Stephen and how she might react to the news of her past that Stephen was just that moment sharing with her.  He expected it to be a long meeting.  There wasn't a damn thing he could do to make it easier for her, but somehow it had felt right to be handy in case she needed a shoulder to cry on or a jaw to break, as the case might be.

He'd heard but not really registered the beginning of the conversation between Jolie and Mabel.   But then something, a tiny probe perhaps?, had gotten his attention just as he became a part of their discussion.

At that point he didn't hesitate to listen.  Mabel had seemed to want him to hear it.  That made it harder to hear rather than easier.  No one likes to hear himself reduced to only one role, and especially when that one role was of someone seen to be the cause of pain for another - another who he admitted, even if reluctantly, he cared about.

When Jolie left Mabel, Marc was still sitting there, his coffee forgotten, his mind going over the words, and assigning each of them meaning and degree of accuracy.   This was somewhat rough going however, as his mind recoiled from the one word they'd used: love.  They believed, and he did not doubt for a moment that they truly did believe, that Dinah loved him.   They knew her, had known her longer than he, and therefore their judgements must be superior to his own regarding her state of mind.  Therefore...

He closed his eyes.  He'd known it was wrong from the first moment, he reminded himself.  It had been a selfish thing.  A cure for loneliness.  A longing for an intimacy he'd not had for a very long time.  Lovers were a dime a dozen.  But she'd been..  Yes, she'd been.  Past tense.

He'd not set out to hurt her, certainly, but he ought to have known.  Ought to have realized.  Especially when she'd come to him in her fear of the storm.  Still, he'd been blind.  Willfully blind, obviously.  It had taken overhearing that conversation to make him admit that.

His options were, he knew, limited.   He could hurt her sooner, or draw it out and hurt her worse later.  So...  The moment he knew she was recovered from the shock of her past, learned the secrets Stephen had kept from her, he'd find a way to end the relationship.  Oh, not just tell her brutally it was over.  Something more subtle, that might give her time to adjust.

He looked up then to find Mabel standing over him.  She placed a hot cup of coffee before him.  Then said, "Love isn't something to be frightened of, Marc.  It's something to be thankful for."

She didn't cry, she didn't yell and she didn't argue.   She listened, took the file, listened to the rest and asked him to leave...she asked him...she didn't tell him to get out.   He'd tried to get her to talk.   She'd crossed the room and was holding the door and waiting, before he'd gotten ten words out.   He'd no choice but to leave, to do what she wanted.   He didn't know what else to do.   She had him scared to death.

Stephen went looking for Marc, waiting somewhere, just in case.   He slid into the seat across from him and met his eyes.   He didn't know what to say.

"Not well then," was what Marc said, pouring Stephen a hot cup of coffee from the pot he'd had Celie bring him.

Stephen swallowed automatically.   He didn't know what to say.   "Not well? Is there a way that's worse? She just listened and then asked me to leave.   She _asked_ me."

"Ah," Marc replied sipping his own coffee.  The two perfectly understood each other.  When Dinah took things calmly this was not a good thing.   "I might as well head on up to Home then.  If she wants to see me she can contact me.  She knows how.   Anything I can do for you?"

"Time, tomorrow.   We have to decide.   And I'll have a word with Jolie before I leave." Stephen shook his head.   She had him scared to death.

"Speak to Mabel too.  She'll let us know if we need to worry.  More."

Stephen nodded.   "Good point."

Marc stood, hesitated a moment and laid a hand on Stephen's shoulder.  "She'll be fine.  She's stronger than we pretend." He winked out.

"Yeah, well what I'm worried about is what she'll do when she stops asking," Stephen muttered to himself as he stood and looked around.   He headed for the desk, where Leslie told him Spence and Jolie had gone out and Mabel was in the kitchen.   "Leslie, would you mind asking her if I could see her for a minute? I'll be in the dining room.   It's kind of important."

Leslie nodded and headed towards the back of the house.   He went back to the table and swallowed cold coffee, uncaring.

Mabel arrived in only a few moments.  She took the chair Marc had occupied and just looked at Stephen for a few minutes.  When he seemed slow to respond, she sighed.  "You'd best tell me everything if I'm to keep an eye on her."

His grey eyes met hers and he nodded, slowly.   "I just told Dinah the truth about her parents, and how both I and her grandmother had kept it from her all this time by giving her a lie to believe. "  He started with that and then filled in the details.

"Yes, I knew she'd changed.  Go home, Stephen.  We'll take care of her.  She'll have to forgive you before she can see you again." Her eyes were soft recognizing his pain and fear.

"Mabel, I...if there's...I'll stay in touch, okay?" At that moment he hated himself.

"I'll let you know what I can.  Try not to worry.  She's a lot of figuring out to do.  Give her time."

Stephen thought for a moment and made a decision he hoped he wouldn't live to regret.   "Can you handle it if I pull the security back off her.   I'll leave a man in case she goes out somewhere, but I think it would help."

"Just have them ready to respond if I need them."

"They will be.   And thank you." Stephen ran a hand through his hair and stood up.   There were a lot of things he wanted to say and couldn't.   "Thank you."

"No need.  Try not to worry.  Once she has a chance to think things through she'll forgive you, because she knows you did what you thought was right.  Might not have been, but that's what you meant to do.  Stephen, have faith."

He nodded and forced himself to both believe and leave it in her hands.

Marc, upon leaving Dinah's Place, had a lot to think about, but not much time to devote to self study, or self flagellation.   He arrived at the penthouse apartment he'd gotten for himself on Home in light of the fact his own house had been toasted.  He'd had no interest in building another, although at the moment he wondered if he might soon change his mind.

Paul was waiting for him.   Marc shook his head and headed to his bedroom.   He stood in the shower for a long time trying to find some place in his being that was calm and serene.   There wasn't one.

He dressed, in a tux.  He had a meeting regarding the new members Stephen and he were hoping to place on the Council as permanent members.   Dinner, talk, and then he could crash, and maybe drink himself to death.  It was a plan.

He took Paul with him, not because he wanted to but because he didn't have the energy to argue.  Paul did agree to stay outside her house as Marc was wearing a tracker for him.  So Marc was alone when he rang the doorbell.

Rosalind DeCara was a member of a small and very select circle of people.   A key player when the Covenants had been drafted and ratified she'd shunned open power and had steadfastly refused a seat on the Council or an active role in government.   Instead she'd become a powerbroker, a person whose support would be critical to ensuring that whoever was chosen to fill the seats left vacant by the death of Margaret and Maya and the disappearance of Bella ever actually sat in them.   Roz, as she was generally called and a few others could, effectively, bring down the elected council and force a turnover in the permanent membership if they wanted to.

Old even by Awakened standards, she was a mulatto, with creamy, coffee colored skin, thick, wild dark brown hair cut somewhere between short and very short, and eyes that rarely, if ever, missed a thing.   She was not a tall woman, standing maybe five foot three and had dressed formally, in a dark, almost blood colored red sheath of watered silk.   It was possible that the heels she habitually wore were to give her the advantage of an extra few inches, or so you might think until you knew her.   Whatever advantages Roz needed she found preferred to supply using her own inner resources.   Power, its uses and its nuances were things she understood and manipulated as easily as breathing.

She answered the door herself, perhaps as a measure of the importance she attached to the meeting.   "Hello, Marc.   It's good to see you again."

He smiled down from his six foot height and took the hand she gave him, bringing it to his lips.  She smiled at that.   "You look lovely as always."

She led him back into her sunken living room and immediately fixed him a scotch.  "You look like you could use this," she said softly.

"Thanks.  It's been a long day."

She allowed herself a throaty chuckle and said, her voice low, perfectly pitched, with a hint of something that told you that if she wanted to, sultry was one of her weapons or pleasures, depending on her preference and suggested, "let's sit on the patio then and you can relax and I'll tell you all the gossip about thing's you've no interest in.   That way you can ignore me while nodding at the appropriate parts and not worry about missing anything important."

"Thank you, Roz.  That sounds about all I can handle at present.  Hopefully I'll be a bit more alert after dinner."

"Hopefully, given what I suspect the topic will be.   Until then, just relax.   We've half an hour or more until Felix will be ready to serve and I've planned a simple meal, in deference to the agenda." She chose a seat across from him rather than next to him and began a light conversation that ranged across a variety of topics and displayed an astounding degree of insight and knowledge...the tidbits of gossip and fact, and the insights of discernment and analysis...covering the whole of Awakened affairs and society.   By the time dinner was served she'd brought him up to date on all the major players, most of the minor ones and the state of society.

When Felix announced dinner she rose and allowed him to take her arm, guiding her towards the dining room, pleased to note that he was, in some measure, restored.

They'd known one another since shortly after he'd decided to take an interest in the Council, some ten years ago.   Before that he'd been a shadowy figure not only to her but to most of the Awakened.  He'd appear periodically, stay for a time, and go off again, God knew where.  He'd never been one to talk much of himself, so she had little hope of learning from him what was going on, but then she had other sources so needed trouble him in that regard at any rate.

As they sat down to dinner, and Marc poured the wine for them, he began to act more like himself.  A quick comment, a dry remark regarding something she'd said, and the two of them were smiling and then even managing a laugh now and again.   He was relaxing she was relieved to see.

When they finished she led him to the living room where Felix served coffee and brandy and left them alone.   Gauging her moment she brought the conversation around to his purpose and hers.   "So, I assume you've a short list of names?"

"Yes.  I thought perhaps you could make time to come down to the Refuge tomorrow and meet with myself and Stephen.  He and I do not see eye to eye on all of them and I'd like your thoughts on them."

"I can, I think.   I've a meeting for a benefit in the morning but am free in the afternoon.   Do you know, except for the funeral, I've never been there.   It will be interesting."

"Do you know Stephen well?" he asked.

"I've worked with him on a few things over the years so in that sense, yes I would say I do.   Socially, not so well, though I've met Doni a time or two.   He has always maintained, as you know, a clear boundary between his public responsibilities and his private life." She set her coffee cup aside and then continued, "I have always thought he would be an fascinating person to know outside the political arena."

"He's more complex than I expected.  Although I can't say I know him that well either, considering I've only had to do with the Refuge over the last few weeks.  Still, he's handled the pressures on him well.  Especially since he rescued Doni."

"It would be well, perhaps, " she suggested, "if someone did know him better.   He is central to too many things.   Do you know any more about why she was kidnapped, beyond the obvious?"

"Yes, well, we've reached a rapport.  He trusts me for the most part, so I expect to understand him better given that.  I know he's investigating Doni's kidnapping, but have not heard that he's found anything definitive.  He's asked me to bring to the next press conference pictures of the symbol they found on the bones in Doni's grave.  He thought a wider dissemination of that information might bring forward someone who can tell him something of it."

"I find it intriguing that it has never been suggested that anyone other than he handle the investigation, into that or the other events of late.   It is a measure, despite the rumors about his involvement in the destruction of your home, of the remarkably deep and abiding trust that is placed in him at all levels." Her voice was reflective as she went on.   "The result, I suppose, of public probity and personal integrity."

"Considering that he has been nothing but cooperative when I suggest something regarding changes, I've no choice to accept the status quo.  Perhaps once we have installed the new council members?"

"I don't see why.   I certainly had no such thing in mind.   I was, for once, not being subtle.   I actually said what I meant.   As a man, both the public figure and the private person, he stands for something and yet has rarely, if ever, traded on it.   He has never hidden his agenda, he has made his argument for it consistently, and compellingly.   He is open to incremental progress.   But he has never allowed that agenda to hinder his willingness to seek a common ground on every other issue.   In my view that makes him remarkable.   Whether it also makes him dangerous, I haven't decided.   I suspect it depends."

"Agreed.  Bella often said he was very dangerous and needed to be reined in.  However, she had reason to hate him, so I've always questioned her judgment in the matter."

"I ask myself, on what issue does he need reining in? Integration? The Listeners? If you look at history he has been right significantly more times than not.   Bella didn't want him reined in, per se.   She wanted him driving in her harness, because she wanted the power he wields but rarely uses." Then she laughed.   "But you know this.   So why are you asking me to recite my catechism for you?"

He smiled.  "Because I value your insights.  You have a far better grasp of past alliances and deep cabals than I do, having been out of touch so much.  So please forgive me for boring you with this."

"You haven't bored me.   Quite the contrary.   You've allowed me to clarify something I'd been thinking about for sometime...since Charlie Palmer in fact.   If I had to declare an opinion on the matter Stephen it would be that he is a man who can be trusted...which makes him the most dangerous sort of politician imaginable.   Margaret and Maya displayed an incredible degree of insight.   We will never control him or own him...if you will.   If you find that he is an obstacle the only solution is render him dead or impotent."

She toyed with her bracelets, clearly trying to reach a decision and Marc let her.   "Bella, long ago, when Doni first emerged as a factor in his life tried to control him by controlling her as her mentor.   She identified and exploited Doni's weaknesses.   She ended by precipitating a major break between the two that only ended when the Refuge was built.   It would be wise, I feel, to recall that in all that time he never wavered on either front.   He just went around.   And waited."

"Thank you for that insight.  Now I've a bit of Refuge gossip for you regarding Doni and Stephen.  They plan to marry.  So apparently the separation has healed whatever breaches might have been there from past differences."

"Do they? Then it will be a social circus or they'll elope.   The gossip was that she had refused to marry him, since before they bonded.   It has also been said that he was willing to sacrifice their only child in order to manipulate Richard for the...er...greater good."

"Yes.  He's a moral man.  I can easily believe that of him.  God save us from moral men."

"Really? I sometimes wonder if a few more might not be useful," she observed dryly.

"So long as they are on the opposite side." He poured himself more brandy, she indicated she'd stick to coffee.

"Pragmatism only goes so far, Marc.   At the end of the day, it's usually impossible to digest or even eat, if unaccompanied by something else, similar to dry toast without tea.   I look back and remember all those who were there at the beginning.   None have remained who stand daily in the public eye other than Stephen."

Marc took a sip of brandy and offered, "I find them more trouble than they're worth.  We'll have to disagree on the issue, Roz.  But then I am the pragmatist here.   Tell me, have you heard anything regarding the attack on the Refuge by those Awakened attackers? I'm hearing mostly that no one believes it, or at least no one wants to.   And quite frankly I find it hard to see how anyone with sense would think that would advance any agenda."

"I find myself unable to articulate a motive either.   What I am hearing whispered is that it's the result of locking the Awakened here for so long."

"Given that, if I approve of Stephen reopening the Compound and allowing those Listeners who wish to to relocate to the Refuge, do you feel I'll have enough support on the Council to make the order stand?"

She thought about it.   "Depends on the Council you end up with.   I would assume that you're looking mainly at elected members and that means an election almost immediately after they're seated as you know.   Certainly popular support would be yours."

"Yes, that's what I'm counting on.  It might become an issue in the campaign if I move quickly enough."

"Does Stephen want to do that? And the other question you need to answer first is who would be chosen to go, since thousands would want to."

"I'll vet them.  The excuse will be that they need to be integrated into the existing ops team structure, and in light of the limited resources available currently.  Housing is in short supply as it is.  So we'll have to do something soon.  I'd rather have control of the process rather than just let necessity dictate it."

"Will you sell it as an experiment? Dangle the possibility that if it works things will go back to the way they were, with some remaining restrictions on the New Ones?" She was clearly considering the ramifications, seeing the possibilities.

"Yes.  It will generate a great deal of positive press and may buy me some time."

"Time?" she prompted offering him some more brandy as she added a splash to her own glass.

"Yes.  Time to better understand the intricacies of Stephen's off-Home networks.  I don't like playing catch up."

She smiled at him serenely.   "I have always thought that we have been lamentably short sighted with regard to the Exiled as well as the Mixed Awakened.   As a power base on Earth that has the potential to eventually challenge the Council...  it would be formidable."

"Indeed." He swallowed his brandy.  "And I've taken up enough of your time for the evening.  As always, it's been enlightening.  I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow, at, shall we say 2pm?"

Her serene regard didn't change.   "That would be fine, but I had hoped that perhaps, you would stay...that if we'd finished with politics we might find other things of interest to consider."

"Such as?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

"Such as the length of time since I've seen you last and how long after this it might be until I see you again.   And if there is something other than politics and my memory for scandal that is of interest to you."

"I'd have thought my interest apparent from past meetings, Roz," he answered as he stepped nearer.

She moved towards him as well.   "I prefer to avoid assumptions because, as you know yourself, things change."

"What things?" He asked as he reached out to take the glass from her hand.

"What's possible and what's not." She tilted her face towards his.   "What's exciting and what's not."

"Politics has its limitations." He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his hand.

"It does," she agreed, leaning slightly into his palm.   "But it still lubricates and when that fails, it entertains."

"But not nearly as much as some other pursuits." He bent down and kissed her.

There were files littering the desk and the floor.  It was not, anymore, his preferred ambiance, but he and Marc had agreed that they couldn’t delay appointing the new permanent members to the council.  They’d also agreed on the pool of candidates, current elected members and a very short list of non-council members who wielded a lot of power with the council.  They’d argued a long time about whether they should ensure that all three of them supported the Listeners and Stephen had stood firm against it.  They needed a mix that represented the views of the people they were governing as much as to ensure the Awakened accepted them as to ensure that he and Marc weren’t accused of trying to stage a coup by staking the council with those who’d rubber stamp anything they decided to do.

It was the same old balancing act that he’s done from the first.  So long as he controlled the Listeners…and it brought him up short.  He started swearing, bringing Tommy running.

“What…what’s wrong?” Tommy asked, pad and pencil at the ready.

“Where’s Marc, do you know?”

“Yeah, I just saw Reno.  He just got back from Home.  He’s in his office.”

Stephen sighed.  “He and I need to talk before we meet with Ms DeCara, so find out when he’s free will you, and if you will allow me to impose on your goodness, can you scare me up some fresh coffee and a sandwich or something? Then let Cassidy know that Doni’s back on the rosters and Trevor gets copied special on her schedule.  Also make sure Trevor knows it’s a done deal.  He’s expecting it.  Ask him to try not to laugh too loud.”

“Sure, anything else?”

Stephen looked at the mess.  “Yeah, make all this go away and never come back again.  That pile,” and he pointed to the only neat stack on his desk, “I need.  The rest is yours again.”

Tommy nodded and made magic of a non Awakened sort that cleared the mess, then left and come back in fifteen minutes with a tray and results, “Marc’ll be here in about fifteen minutes he said.  He was also wanting some time.”

“Thanks,” Stephen said, from around the sandwich.  "Have you heard from Ms Barnard?" When Tommy shook his head he said, "Call her and see if there's news."

Tommy, bless him had also brought a salad, a glass of milk and some fruit, which meant the coffee was decaf and he’d been conniving with Doni.   He was munching the peach when Marc walked in, looking tired.   Tired and something else as well.

Marc more sank than sat down.   Stephen made a guess regarding his mood and offered, "No news yet from Mabel."

"Oh," Marc replied.  "Thanks.   So I hear Doni twisted your arm and that it's a, and I quote, 'done deal.'"

"I prefer to think of it," he said with dignity, "as having reached an understanding that was acceptable to us both."

"You keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll believe it eventually.  So.  We need someone to run the Infirmary then."

"Yep, and I haven't a clue as to who to suggest." Stephen said, tossing the peach pit in trash.   "Baylee's not an option."

"I happen to have the perfect candidate."

"Oh?" Stephen asked, running madly through a list of possibilities he might have overlooked.

"Tabitha," Marc replied

Stephen eyed him like he'd never seen him before.   "Tabitha? And you think that because?"

"Because she owes me," Marc said looking around for anything that vaguely resembled coffee.

Stephen sent Tommy a mental request for real coffee and then said, "Oh? Well that might make it a possibility that she'd agree, but there's still the fact she's not a signatory."

"And that matters because?" Marc asked.

"The council demanded and I agreed that neither she or Eli would be involved in Listener affairs nor use their gifts in Listener matters.   That in times of emergency she does is a recent development that, frankly, has me puzzled, though grateful.   Regardless, that's the situation.   Their presence here has been something that is ignored or pretended to be ignored."

Tommy arrived with coffee and set it down, giving Stephen a look.   "It's for him, mom, not me," Stephen said.

"Thank you, Tommy," Marc said reverently as he worshiped the coffee cup for a moment.  Then to Stephen, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did I not, just as Saint Michael wrecked the building, did I not declare us in a state of emergency?"

Tommy rolled his eyes and left.

"Yeah, I vaguely recall something like that, right before you suggested to the Reverend that you had been er...intimate...with an archangel."

"I was in an odd mood.  Seriously, you and I are the Council at the moment."

Stephen grinned and poured himself some of the real coffee.   "I am loathe, as always, to contradict a partner in crime as creative as you, but we are, to be precise, the permanent council.   We are not the whole Council.   On the other hand, I dumped the politics in your lap, smart guy that I am, and if you wanna deal with it, we can ask her.   You're right, she'd be perfect, but I'm not sure she'd agree...debt or not."

"Let's get her in here and see," Marc suggested.  "You let me worry about making it stick once the Council is reconstituted."

Stephen shrugged and sent Tommy to get her.   While they were waiting he said, "Does your inventive genius extend to who replaces her?"

"We clone Mabel."

Stephen almost spewed his coffee.

"I'll find out about how to do that when next I speak with her."

Tommy showed Tabitha in and set another carafe of coffee next to Marc before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Marc poured himself a second cup of coffee reverently.  "Good afternoon, Tabitha," he said sweetly.

"Good afternoon.   I've dinner to see to.   What do you need?"

Marc looked at Stephen but Stephen made it quite plain he passed, so Marc said, "We're reassigning you.  Beginning tomorrow, you'll be in charge of the Infirmary.'

"I decline.   Is there anything else?"

"Well, of course, that's your choice.  Remember that in the future, won't you.  I'll be delighted to return the favor."

Tabitha turned her attention directly towards Marc.   "Are we bargaining or am I being blackmailed against a hope of future considerations?"

"Tabitha, what do you..." Stephen began.

Tabitha cut him off.   "This isn't to do with you.   It is between him and I."

"Blackmail is such a nasty word.  Think of it as, oh, a small favour that will be remembered with gratitude."

Tabitha studied him and then said calmly, 'It is said that once two brothers came to a certain old man.  It was his custom not to eat every day but when he saw them he received them joyfully and said, "A fast has its own reward, but he who eats for the sake of love fulfils two commandments: he leaves his own will and he refreshes his brothers.'Margarite will take over the kitchens tomorrow and Alice the housekeeping pending other arrangements.   Have I a free hand in the Infirmary?"

"Stephen, does she?" Marc asked innocently.

"Yes." He looked from one to the other.   "Tabitha you don't have to do this."

Tabitha smiled serenely, her gaze still on Marc, her words meant for them both.   "'It is recorded that in Scetis some monks came to see Abba Poemen and said to him, "When we see a brother dozing in the church, should we rouse him? For my part, he answered, I should rest his head on my knees.'Are you also freeing Eli?"

"Of course," Marc replied, just as serenely.

Stephen, beginning to be angry, tried again.   "Would someone explain to me what's going on here?"

Tabitha shook her head.   "As I recall," she said, "it was when Theophilus of holy memory, bishop of Alexandria, journeyed to Scetis that the brethren come together and said to Abba Pambo, "Say a word or two to the bishop, that his soul may be edified in this place." The old man replied, "If he is not edified by my silence, there is no hope that he will be edified by my words.'" Then she looked at Marc and asked, "Now tell me what you've won?"

"I've won nothing.   But then I wasn't trying to win."

"No, I suppose not.   It's a pity.   Otherwise you'd have known better." She stood.   "It there anything else? I've still dinner to see to."

"You're welcome, Tabitha.  Give my regards to Eli."

"I will," she promised and with a nod to her son she left.

Stephen watched her go, then swung his gaze back to Marc.   "Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?"

"It's complicated.   So, next on the agenda, clone Mabel."

"Well, since you handled that so well, I'll just leave that in your lap too." Stephen snapped.

"Not a problem.  Council members? Or are you leaving that in my lap too," Marc's voice was silkily calm.

Stephen drew a harsh breath and stood.   "I need a minute," he said flatly and walked out..

Marc watched him go, his face suddenly looking bleak.  He stood and walked over to look out the windows.   After losing a lover, what was losing a friend.

He was still there when Reno knocked on the door saying, "Ms DeCara is here."

"Thank you, Reno.  Show her in.  Stephen should be back in a few minutes."

Reno nodded and stood back to let Roz enter.

"Hello, Marc.   How are you?" she asked walking closer.

Marc turned and took a few steps toward where Roz stood and offered her his hand.  "I'm quite well.  Please, have a seat.  Stephen should be back soon."

"Thanks," she said, and then added, "and thanks for last night.   It was lovely." She drew him down to kiss him.

As she lifted her mouth from his there was a gasping sound from behind him.

He was already far from in control.  Angry with himself, now furious with Roz, who had never before shown even a hint of amorous intent outside of their private meetings.  He therefore was off balance as he heard the gasp and turned toward it.

The last person in the world he'd expected to see stood there.  He took a step forward.

Dinah looked at him, her eyes huge and liquid with pain and something else, something worse, something more than simple understanding.   She started to say something and then stopped.   As he took another step towards her, she doubled her fist as if to hit him, just like the last time, with everything she had, only she just dropped her arm instead, her face ashen and her lips twisting.   Then she was gone, fleeing out of the office, revealing Stephen, who'd been a silent paralyzed witness to the whole thing.

Stephen, facing Marc at that point, saw a look on Marc's face, only for a second then it was gone.

"Ah, there you are, Stephen.  Roz DeCara is already here." He moved to reach for the files and sat down as if nothing had happened.

Stephen hesitated for a split second and then said, "So I see.   It's a pleasure to welcome you, Ms DeCara.   I'm afraid, however, I need a moment.   If you'll excuse me?" Then he stepped out, closing the door as he did.

Roz's face was transfused then with an ironic half-smile.  Marc seeing it, shrugged.  "I've had worse ends to affairs."

"No doubt.   Perhaps if we got started...?"

How he made it through that meeting Marc had no real understanding.  He switched to autopilot.   Stephen cast a few glances his way but mostly did his best to ignore him.  Roz was charming, her usual self, no hint of anything but business.  But then why should she be otherwise.

Then, after an eternity, Roz was shaking Stephen's hand.  She stepped toward him and Marc thought he'd have to touch her.  But Tommy knocked on the door distracting everyone.  Marc took advantage of the distraction and popped out, uncaring about any consequences.

He landed in his living room, went to the drinks cabinet, and didn't bother with a glass.  He took the bottle and sat on the floor in front of the windows to watch the sun set.  After that, he vaguely remembered getting up for another bottle.   Beyond that, thankfully, oblivion.

Hours later, Stephen, who'd needed that long before he thought he might be able to have a rational conversation with Marc, found him there, passed out on the floor, the bottles next to him.   Stephen looked at him for a long time, his arms folded, leaning back against the wall, as understanding and compassion bloomed.   Then he put him to bed, cleaned up the mess and left.

"Stop that, Julian! That's my lunch! Get your own!" Jolie ordered as Jules snuck another french fry off her plate and tossed it to the gulls, Jules ignored her and reached for another one, saying "They'll go to your hips. I'm doing it for Spence."

Smack!

Ow!" he said, taking the french fry anyway. But then he realized he was speaking to air because Jolie was heading across the pool area towards the lobby at a fast trot, almost a run. He peered closer and realized that it was Dinah she was headed towards, standing in the lobby. Then Jolie cut off his view. He considered, shrugged and fed the rest of the fries to the gulls.

Jolie put an arm around Dinah, who'd been just standing there, looking like she'd gone into shock and headed them towards the elevator and Dinah's apartment. She got her settled on the sofa and put the kettle on, fixed a pot of tea, added a dollop of brandy to one mug along with a lot of sugar. She filled the mug with tea and handed it to Dinah, making her drink it all. She fixed her a second cup without the brandy and then sat down next her, and waited.

It took Dinah a while, Jolie waiting and feeding her hot sweet tea, to do anything really. But gradually some of the color came back into her face and the life returned to her eyes. She looked at Jolie, finally, her lower lip trembling and the tears showing.

Jolie, kleenex behind her and ready, said, "Can you talk about it?"

"He…he, I saw him with…" Dinah tried and then gave it up, finally letting the tears come and Jolie enfold her in her arms. She'd made it through Stephen's news and all the pain of yesterday without crying but today, seeing Marc with someone else, it was all suddenly more than she could stand.

Jolie, filling in the pieces without much trouble, kept her thoughts to herself and just stroked her hair, letting her sob out the worst of it, of all of it, from Lily to today and cursed Marc to a high, dry, hot hell deprived of electrolyte replacement.

When she'd finished Jolie left and returned with a cold wet cloth that she handed Dinah, while she tossed the first pile of kleenex in the trash and settled down to wait some more. And sure enough it took Dinah all of about two minutes and ten words and she was crying again. It was a shorter bout of sobbing but then they were harsher and came from deeper down.

This time when they ended Jolie got her a fresh cloth and then made more tea and brought it and the brandy bottle back with her. After that it got a bit better. Dinah sipped and wept and managed to talk. Jolie heard about the fix Marc had made and the news Stephen had shared, the lies her grandmother had told and the events of today. She found out about Laz and Dinah's guilt feelings, Marc and her decision to wait him out and listened patiently and compassionately to the endless iterations on what do I do now that followed. Through it all she kept the tea hot and sweet, the brandy rationed and the kleenex fresh, without succumbing to the temptation to either tell Dinah what to do or criticize anyone, including Marc.

When Dinah was talked out she made some toast and fed it to her, then she put her in a hot shower and tucked her into bed. After, when Dinah was asleep, she went looking for Spence. She found him and sank into the chair next to him taking a hold of his hand, suddenly grateful for a lot of things.

"Sup? I mean, I know it's Dinah, and she's miserable, that much was pretty obvious. Is she doing okay now?"

"Yeah, well...she's sleeping," was the closest Jolie was willing to get to doing okay.

Mabel came over and looked a question at Jolie. "She's sleeping," Spence supplied.

"Good," Mabel said and patted Jolie on the shoulder before she sauntered off to say hello to the guests.

Uhm," Spence started, then shut his mouth. "She gonna be okay by herself? Cuz if you think you should stay with her, then go do it."

"No, I think she'll be fine, though I may check on her later. Right now, I think I'd like it a lot if you'd just take me somewhere and hold me while I have a drink and then do what ever it occurs to me to do next....can we do that do you think?"

"I know just the place," Spence said, hauling her to her feet and this time taking her to her own room. "Why don't you jump in the shower and I'll fix you a drink. Then if I think of something else I'll let you know."

She nodded, thankful for the shower suggestion. She hadn't realized how tense she was and the hot water soothed her. When she got out Spence was standing there with a big fluffy towel. He wrapped her up in it and guided her by the shoulders over to her bed. He sat her down on it, and handed her a drink

He sank to the floor and sat cross-legged there, looking up at her. Maybe he'd been taking lessons from Jazz.

He didn't ask anything, just let her sip on her drink and think.

Eventually she said, "I think it might be good if I got her away from here for a while and she can't go back to the Refuge. Any ideas? I don't want to take her to my place in New York."

"We can take her to the south of France if she'd go. Julian could take us all there. The house is open and stuff. The cook and groundskeeper are there. Nyree's there. She'd have a pool to stare at but most everything else is different, and it's private. Think that would work?"

Jolie nodded. "What she needs is to convalesce, if that makes sense. It's like she's been hit by a train, several trains. Here folks would bug her and she'd feel like she should be doing things. So it sounds great if I can get her to go. The only thing is we'd have to probably take Chance and Tobie for security for her. Would that be a problem?"

"No, we can take them too. The place is pretty big. But, you know, its magically warded. Ain't nobody gonna get in that ain't invited. When he leaves he wants to make sure who's there is gonna be safe."

"Good, then we can lose the security and Stephen can deal with it," she said firmly, putting down her glass. "Can we do the holding me part now, do you think?"

Spence scrambled up onto the bed and wrapped himself around her, stroking her hair. "Hey, relax. You look worn out too."

"'Well, you know what? I'm not but I'd like to be so maybe we could work on that next? Do ya think?" Then she buried her face in his chest, and tried to find a way to get closer. Finally she said, barely discernibly, "Jesus Spence, what did I do to deserve a guy like you in my life? Thank you for being you."

"Hold that thought," he whispered as he began doing his best to tire her out physically too.