Stephen arrived at his office late, very late in fact for him, looking as relaxed and content as Tommy had ever seen him. Tommy followed him in and took a seat, ready to start the day, even if it was a few hours late. He got through the update in record time and then went on to the calendar.

“You’ve got staffing in five minutes and then Ms DeCara, Marc and Irisa after on the council appointments.” Tommy told him, closing his notebook and getting ready to leave.

“Thanks Tommy. And thanks for the coffee. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, boss. Anything else?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” Stephen answered, his grin enormous. He’d gotten it under control by the time the others arrived…Marc, Cassidy, Trevor and Laz…and had gotten settled.

He moved them with dispatch through the usual preliminaries and then they headed into the meat of the agenda. "Before we get started on this, and I forget, Cassidy...as of this morning Doni's off the rotation and off the teams."

"Ah, congrats," Marc said.

"Let me know your secret. I'd have had at least a black eye if I'd tried that with Maggie," Trevor said. "And you're looking remarkably untouched."

"She told me last night.  She didn't seem happy about it, but it was her decision."  Stephen grinned.  "And I just gave in gracefully."

"Since we're talking about teams," Marc put in,  "it looks like the elected council will be voting to send us recruits. It's their way of showing Refuge support and it's a good idea we not fight them too hard on it. Trevor, come up with some vetting criteria so we're ready."

"Wait.  Slow down.  They're sending us recruits?" Stephen said.  "That's not how...I'm not sure I want recruits just like that, Marc."

"I don't think we'll have much choice," Marc said. "I'm voting for giving in gracefully. But if you want to hash this out later?"

"I think later is a good idea,"  Stephen agreed, moving on.

Trevor and Laz gave them an update on new security measures and then they were done save for the recruits.

"Cassidy, where are we at with staffing?"  Stephen asked as they were about to break up.

"Full, but not much reserve."  Cassidy answered.

Stephen nodded his thanks as they left before turning his attention to Marc.  "Okay.  New recruits."

"You want me to handle the politics.  This is good politics. Home wants to help. We've blocked them from doing anything else, including locking down the Refuge."

"I'm open to bake sales and car washes." Stephen offered.  As Marc started to frown he held up a hand.  "Okay.  Seriously.  How else would they like to help.  I tend to prefer to do my own recruiting, usually from among the New Ones as I'm sure you've noticed, and personal referral.  I don't usually run ads in the paper."

"My sources tell me it is a done deal. If we fight this we waste political capital. We can vet the hell out of them but we need to at least pretend to be accepting their offer of assistance." Marc was sounding like he was pretty hard over on this one.

"So, what?  We open a recruiting office on Home, and anyone who wants can sign up and if they vet out we take them?   Regardless of what we've got going on here that we might not want public knowledge?  And then when this is over they're still Listeners?  Or are we mustering them out with a campaign medal so they can dine out on it?"

"Are you hearing me, or are you too stubborn to bother."  Marc's voice, like Stephen's had lost the usual easy tone they generally spoke in.

"I'm hearing you.  You're telling me it's a done deal and I should just eat.  But what I'm telling you is that, in spite of the politics, there are other considerations that I'd like to at least consider.  Or are you too stubborn to do that?"  Stephen asked.  "And how the hell did it get to done deal without us talking about it before?"

"Because, in case you didn't notice, we are two votes to all the rest."

"I've noticed."  Stephen reined in his annoyance.  "Look, all I'm saying is, is that there are issues that need to be managed besides the whole security question, some of which have long term consequences.  I'd like us to discuss those before we decide anything.  And if they want to help maybe there are other ways they could do that."

"I'll be delighted to let you argue that at the Council meeting," Marc retorted.

And then Tommy was knocking on the door no doubt announcing that Roz was waiting.

Stephen paused Tommy with a thought.  "I see.  So, we aren't going to talk about it..  Or have I misunderstood?"

Marc sighed. "We don't seem to be getting anywhere talking about it."

"Fine.  I'll get you a list of my problems with this and you can let me know how you figure we can deal with them."  Stephen snapped.

"Works for me," Marc retorted, meeting Stephen's eyes.

Stephen just called out for Tommy to come in.  He brought with him Roz as well as Irisa and Stephen forced his mind to other things, shaking hands with Roz and letting Marc take the meeting.

Stephen, perhaps more aware of Marc's emotions of late, sensed him closing down the moment Roz walked into the room. She was smiling brightly and acted as if she sensed none of it. Irisa glanced from Roz to Marc and back again, then just took her seat.

"So, we've narrowed it down to the three we feel best," Marc stated. "A subset of the six we talked about last time."

"Sounds good.  Who did you settle on and how are you planning the announcement?  I'd think it would be as soon as possible."  Roz said.

"Ravilo Jamies, Vashti Tehrani, and lastly Daniella Vestry."

At a nod from Marc Irisa spoke up.  "Ms DeCara, we plan to have a press conference at noon tomorrow with all three in attendance, and then a reception immediately afterwards. Most of the elected members have acknowledged they could attend.  As soon as possible," Irisa added nodding with a slight smile to acknowledge Roz's concerns.

Roz smiled at Marc.  "It sounds like you've thought of everything.  When will you call for the new election?"

"I'd like to put that off as long as possible. Have I a prayer to put it off, say, for a few months?"

She considered.  "The longest might be about about two months, say mid November, but I think you'd be better served to settle on earlier in the month.  Regardless, you should include it in the announcement.  Perhaps we should discuss the timing in greater depth before tomorrow.  I'm free this evening, if you'd like."

"I'm sorry but I'm not," Marc replied.

She smiled, not the least put out.  "Nonetheless stability is key here and the elections are crucial to that.  Three vacant seats at this point is a lot."

"I'll consider it. Thank you for your input. That it?"

She nodded and rose gracefully.  "If you need anything before tomorrow let me know. " She smiled graciously at Irisa, and then  shook hands with Stephen before turning to Marc.

"See you tomorrow," he said with a slight bow, but did not offer her his hand.

"Tomorrow," she repeated and was gone.

Foyle paced through his office. Things were going wrong. Very much so. Even his coffee had spilled over his desk this morning.

The announcement of the new council members and the reception were coming up. Stephen would be there. The moment would be great, he'd even be there to see it happen. But he would need a good man this time. Not the losers that screwed up everything.

He took his special cell-phone and looked over the list of names. Names that usually would not be known among regular council members, but Foyle had always considered himself above regular.

He called someone and asked a few questions. A date, a time and a place were set.

At that date, time and place, Foyle sat waiting. It was a sleazy bar with such low reputation that it wasn't even worth the thought of one. What better place would there be to meet an assassin.

A short heavy-set man came to Foyle.

"Mr. X?"

"Yes, I am Mr. X." It was a cliché but the best Foyle had been able to come up with on the phone.

"You want someone wasted?"

"Yes. This is the man." Foyle handed over a picture.

"That's the Stephen guy. From that place on Earth."

"You got it. He is a traitor and must be stopped." Foyle said.

"And how do you know that? Stephen's famous," the hit man said.

Foyle took off his hat and sunglasses. "Mr. Foyle," he was recognized. "Honored to meet you, sir."

Foyle put on his disguise again.

"As you see, I am here. For the council. They all consider this man dangerous to the wellbeing of us. And we need your expertise in 'terminating' people to do this for us. Do you think you can handle this?"

"Sir. I am a professional. If you can get me into where he is, I assure you he is history as of now. The facts just have to catch up."

Foyle reached inside his pocket and handed over an envelope. "Here is an advance on your fee, and a ticket that will allow you entry to the reception just after the council meeting. And do remember: the council counts on you."

The broad man got up, stuck away the envelope and bowed to Foyle. "Mr. F- X, tell the council they got the right man." Then he turned and left.

Foyle did not linger either and left the bar and the rundown area rapidly...

Irisa stood at the front of the dais, behind her at a table sat the entire Council. Other notables were in attendance, including many Council members' significant others, and those who might not be elected council members but those who were considered to be the leaders of Home. From the Refuge, the group included Stephen and Marc, of course, Irisa, Doni and Cassidy had somehow managed an invite.  Tommy, Jordon and Reno were off to the side, handy in case of need but well out of camera range. The Security for all of those from the Refuge had been relegated to wait outside the main hall, at least until after the Press Conference. The Refuge was trying to put on a calm and in charge image, not one that indicated fear or concern.

Irisa signaled the beginning of the press conference and the room fell silent.

"Good evening, Irisa Diamond here, to announce that the full Council have selected the following Awakened to take the three open permanent member seats.  I'm sure you all know them well. She turned sideways to indicate each as she said their names.  "Revilo Jamies!"  There was applause, and Revilo bowed and smiled and waved at his family off to the side. Inside his head all kinds of interesting options and ways for ploys and gain were taking shape. This position now was his, something he had dreamed of but never thought possible.

"Vashti Tehrani!" Vashti stood, smiled somewhat less than delightedly at the attention and sat back down quite quickly.

"And the third new member of the Council, Daniella Vestry!"  Daniella waved and smiled, glowing under the applause. Roz and a friend, Roger Foyle, where whispering together near the side of the platform.  "An announcement regarding new elections will be made at the first meeting of the new Council."

Irisa lead the entire room in applause.

After the photographers had had their opportunity and the press had asked their allotment of questions the waiters started to mingle with champagne and the politico's began to work the room, jockeying for time with the new members.  Stephen located Marc in the crowd and shared a grimace as he began doing his duty, Doni on his arm.  He thanked the three for accepting the position and traded stale jokes on the thanklessness of the job while allowing them to probe his positions and feeding them exactly what he wanted them to know.  He knew Cassidy and Marc were undergoing the same torture, while the minions were mingling with the minor players.  By the time he reached the canapes he was exhausted and wondering how soon he could leave.

"Soon," Doni whispered, before greeting yet another political hack as if she were delighted to see them.  She saw Laz floating along to her left, keeping them in sight and in range.

Revilo Jamies had first joined his family, to accept their congratulations. He was extremely proud that he was chosen and basked in their well wishes.  He also did his best not to seem too eager when a small parade of established Council members came by to congratulate him, but the gleam in his eyes was a hard thing to push away.

Irisa had worked her way toward Marc. Stephen perked up, as this looked at least interesting as opposed to the boring conversation Doni was fielding. Marc had been discussing something with several of the elected members of the Council and contacted Irisa mentally. She asked him to converge with her at the side door but told him nothing of what the problem was. Her demeanor and her mental image was calm, so it was probably something he'd hate, like a private meeting with some politico or other.   He obliged and began angling in her direction.

Cassidy, his senses attuned to Irisa's every move, saw her moving to towards the side and picked his next politico with that in mind, hoping to at least exchange a word or two with her at some point during the drudgery.  He noticed Paul tracking Marc's direction then moving smoothly to improve his angle of operation.  Cassidy stifled a sigh and focused on the conversation droning in his ear, a pitch he, realized indignantly for the woman's friend's friend to by pass vetting and be accepted for training as a Listener.

Tommy and Jordon exchanged looks as they passed each other working the opposite side of the room from where Marc and Irisa were converging.  It was Cassidy, trying to catch Jordon's eye who had the first intimation that something might be about to happen.  As he sent Jordon a signal and swung his gaze back he spotted a waiter set a full tray down and check the time, then reach into his pocket, while heading in the direction of Marc and Irisa.

Cassidy acting on autopilot sent a mental warning to Irisa and Marc, and alerted Paul and Laz, while heading out on line calculated to end between the waiter and Marc and Irisa.

At that point fate intervened.  The crowd shifted as someone took over the microphone Irisa had used to say something, slowing down Paul and Laz and opening up a direct line of fire between the waiter and Marc and Irisa.

Irisa and Marc both heard the mental shout.  Marc moved to push Irisa out of the way but she instead dove forward as the first shot rang out.

The waiter who'd been taking his time, squeezed off his shots with precision.  Cursed as the first shot took out Irisa. He fired again, four more times, three hitting Marc. When he was done both Marc and Irisa were on the floor and pandemonium reigned.

Cassidy saw Irisa go down and began running.  He got there first.  Doni yelled at Cassidy, kneeling next to Irisa, to get her back to the Infirmary, and then submerged herself in Marc.  Stephen, aware of the flanking movement that Laz and Paul were staging with him as their target, evaded them and followed Doni, who was already kneeling next to Marc reaching her just as she began glowing golden as the sun, burning power at a hideous rate. He didn't even stop to think  he opened the bond as wide as it would go, and felt his mind merge with hers, as he fed her energy from wherever he could find it.

Laz, who hadn't been present when they healed Tommy, like most of the rest of the audience, wasn't prepared for the what he saw, as Stephen pulled energy from everywhere he could find, feeding it to Doni as they once again merged almost into one, their bond taking over and all the points of contact began coming to glittering life.  He swore, realizing he could only wait.

Marc had taken three bullets, one just to the left of center in his chest, one at the midpoint between his shoulder and his collar bone and one in his belly.

Reno had been waiting in the private room for Marc. He heard the shooting and came running, but the place seemed suddenly frozen wall to wall people. He was still fighting to reach Marc when suddenly from somewhere out of the crowds a short and very muscular man pushed forward to where Stephen and Doni were working on Marc.

Foyle saw the man appear and agreed with the timing. This would be a good moment indeed. The man's objective, only clear to Foyle, did not prevent him to hesitated for a moment when he saw the scene. He felt some tugging at his personal energies, not able to make sense of that. But then he got himself together.  His goal was there, kneeling on the ground.  The man reached inside his pocket and brought out a very complicated device. It was not recognizable as a weapon, until he had shaken it a few times. It was made of hardened artificial fiber, had three protruding blades all of a sudden and these blades were extremely sharp.

He was only a few feet away from Stephen. Suppressing a sort of war-cry, he raised the weapon with both hands and jumped forward. If there were any people around that noticed him (as all eyes were drawn to the proceedings on the floor, where Stephen and Doni were working on Marc), they did not seem to grasp what was about to happen.

As the man was coming near to Stephen he brought down the bizarre knife with extreme force, holding it in both hands. This could not fail, he was convinced. Stephen had his back to him, nobody seemed to be able to do a thing.

But things did fail. Suddenly Stephen was gone. As were Doni and Marc.

Laszlo had seen what was going to happen. He was not in a position to reach the attacker, to prevent the inevitable strike from happening by physical intervention, so the only thing he could do was use his talents this time. So he had used them to take the three on the floor and himself to the infirmary at the Refuge.

The three-bladed knife missed its target. The force that the man had put behind it was so great that he himself tumbled to the ground as the expected resistance was not there.

Foyle, who had been waiting for this attack, had done his best to be near Stephen as well as he could. He wanted to witness the attack himself. The farce that had happened with Martin and John, these losers, were too much. And Foyle had come prepared also.

He saw the short man tumble to the ground and cursed silently. How many lives did this guy Stephen have? Or was there an army of bloody guardian angels around him all the time?

Foyle had taken a small box from his pocket. Now he flicked a switch and threw it on the man that had just fallen on the ground. As the box hit the man, a jolt of high current was unleashed onto his body. It only took two seconds, then the box was harmless. So was the man. All his nerves and glands had been fried. Foyle did not take a chance with someone who knew his name.

The new Council members had watched the scene in horror.

"Good lord," Revilo said, "I hope this is not customary in the Council." Some cold sweat was forming on his back. Perhaps he had to adjust his ideas of fame and most of all those of fortune.

The camera-people who were present were dragged off towards Foyle by their reporters. "Mr. Foyle! Mr. Foyle!" they all screamed for his attention. This was not what Foyle had had in mind. This was too much exposure. But he would have to handle it, so he raised his hand.

"One at the time, please."

He ended up pointing at someone, as the noise showed everyone thought they were number one.

"Mr. Foyle, did you know about this attack?"

"No, I did not. This was as surprising to me as it was to you."

"Mr. Foyle, sir, do you always carry weapons like that with you?"

"No. But considering the recent attacks on Stephen, I thought it best to come prepared, just in case something might happen. And unfortunately I had to act."

The questions went on for a while, until Paul broke up the firing squad of reporters and handed Foyle a drink.

As Foyle was led away by Paul, a small hand of applause followed them.

Laz, who'd spent a fair amount of time in the new infirmary knew what he was doing and when they reappeared Marc was on a bed and Doni still engaged.  Stephen bleeding but seemingly unaffected by the wound was feeding her energy joined as intimately to her as before.

Marc, as the bullets had hit him, felt time slow down. There'd been so bloody much time. Too much time for one man. Too many mistakes, too many lost chances. Too much to pay for, too much to fix.  He was tired, but oddly not in pain. He felt himself sinking toward oblivion when Doni connected to him and began fighting for his life.  "No..." he told her mentally, "no.. let me go.." Doni answered with the one thing she could think of, putting a picture of Dinah into his mind. He reached out to that picture, that woman, the one regret that burned in him even as he sank toward blessed oblivion.

Doni let him go just so far and then stopped his rush towards death, already screaming for help.  When Tabitha joined her, she let go of his autonomic nervous system and left that in Tabitha's hands.  Then she went to work on the chest wound, wondering if she could save him.  The bullet had torn it's way through his chest, shredding part of his heart.  The belly wound was even worse, ripping it's way through intestine, liver and spleen before lodging against his spinal cord. The third bullet had punctured a lung.

He was bleeding out from all three wounds.

Tabitha reached out for one person. And he was there in an instant, even as one other person, feeling very confused, appeared.

Kalket, called for, arrived with Skin and hooked his mind into the Skin and linked with both Doni and Tabitha. Stephen felt the alien presence through the link with Doni and a tiny part of his brain registered the massive increase in healing power as the alien fiddled with the linkages. Someone, Stephen knew, was wrapping his own wound and begun healing him too. Then he erased all thought and concentrated on trying to force Marc to live.  He split the energy flow three ways, then turned the tap on full as soon as he saw the three healers adjust.

Dinah, disoriented and awakened from a sound sleep, registered the state of the man on the bed at the same time as she recognized the face.  What she did next was instinctive.  She reached out to him, mentally, and found him, at the depth where Doni had allowed him to sink, found the spark of him that was all that remained.  She found it and grasped it, her empath's gift forcing the spark of him to acknowledge her, and began pouring out her love for him, her refusal to let him go, passionate and unwavering.

That spark at first didn't respond, but then, slowly, tentatively, it let her wrap him in her love.

Dinah sank to her knees and stayed there, loving him while they saved him, with him through all of it, through the long hours of the afternoon and into the evening.

When Marc's eyes finally opened the first thing he saw was Dinah, tears running down her cheeks.

She smiled at him and reached for his hand, her mind open to him just as it had been since she'd arrived, wrapping him in her love.  "Hi."

He blinked as if he thought he were seeing a hallucination. His hand, weak as he was, pressed hers, before he fell back into an exhausted sleep.

-----------------------------------------

Cassidy zapped himself and Irisa to the infirmary, his mental shout for help proceeding them.  Three healers converged on them as he appeared, two already focusing on her wound while the third helped him get her on a table.  She had taken the bullet squarely in the abdomen where it had charted a winding path from one organ to the next leaving a trail of massive destruction in it's wake.  It's final angle had been upward and the bullet had ended by puncturing a lung when it failed to get through her breast bone.

When Greer tried to make him leave, he refused.  He moved away from the table and off to the side, where he could watch her face and ventured a tentative probe into her mind, stopping at the point where he registered that she was alive.  The part of her mind that was open to him was a revelation, the ease of it's connection with his a promise he set aside to consider later.  Then he waited, never losing contact with her, his eyes on her face, while the healers worked to save her.

Unlike Marc whose mind was divided on seeking life or death, Irisa was fighting for hers. Cassidy felt her consciousness as it reached out, even before her mind had clicked back online.  He pulled back from her mind as soon as she started to wake.  She saw him there, smiling at her, sitting by the bed when she opened her eyes.  He took her hand in his giving it a reassuring squeeze, saying, "Hi.  Welcome back."

"What?" she asked, still disoriented and unsure what had happened.  "Where..." She grimaced as she felt some pain, then focused on his face. "Are you.. Marc?"

"You were shot but you're going to be fine.  You're in the Infirmary.  It's early morning on the day after the press conference.  Marc was also shot.  He's going to be okay.  Do you want me to call someone for you, one of the healers," he asked, registering her pain.

"No... So tired... Stay."

He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand in comforting little circles and stayed.  "Sleep.  I'll be here" he said softly.

Cassidy watched her sleep while his brain stem plotted and his frontal lobe abetted it. That she’d been in danger was bad enough. That he’s almost lost her was intolerable. Whatever he had to do to ensure it didn’t happen again was acceptable and she’d just have to deal with it.

His brain stem concurred. "If," it stated categorically, "he was gonna make allowances for her modern woman notions of what was due her dignity then she could damn well make allowances for his first century notions about protecting his woman and keeping her safe because even the thought of something happening to her was enough to shut down every part of his brain but me."

God, he could barely form the thought; it made his gut clench and his throat tighten. “She’d just have to get used to it” his frontal lobe said, at one with his brain stem on this one given that the alternative was losing her and Cassidy going crazy.

‘Yeah,” his brain stem replied. “Then where would we be,” it asked.

Cassidy decided the question was rhetorical and ignored it. If he didn’t know she was safe he wouldn’t be able to function. As it was there was no way he was leaving her alone until she’d recovered enough to demand that he left. After that he’d have to make sure Trevor assigned security and that she understood he needed…needed…to know she was safe and thus he needed…needed…to know where she was and when she’d be back if she left the Refuge.

“Yeah, yeah!” His brain stem applauded. “Let her know in no uncertain terms. Our feelings count too. We could strike a blow for oppressed and misunderstood men everywhere; and ‘bout damn time, too!”

“Erm…” his frontal lobe tried to interject a reasonable note and got blasted by his brain stem.

“Erm, nothing. We’re suffering here and that has to be attended to. Damn fool woman could just put us outta our misery and let us guard her 24/7 but is she likely to be that sensible? Hah,” his brain stem answered its own question. “Not bloody likely! So this is a reasonable compromise.” His brain stem gave the mental equivalent of an emphatic nod and folded its arms across its chest, set its jaw pugnaciously, and glaring, dared his frontal lobe to contradict it.

Cassidy sighed and rested his head in his hands. He was starting to get a headache.

His brain stem tried again. “Whatever we do we’re going to antagonize her, so we might as well make sure the game is worth the prize. We make sure she’s safe, we make sure we know where she is and we make sure she understands that we’re doing this because we have to, we have no choice if we wanna stay sane and do our job and she just wouldn’t be so cruel as to wish that on us.”

His frontal lobe pursed it lips and considered the situation. “Yeah," it agreed. "You’re right. She’s gonna be pissed. She’s gonna be worse than pissed and we’re gonna have to make up lost ground. So if that’s the case, is there anything else we wanna accomplish at the same time and get a bigger bang for our side outta the fact she’s gonna be pissed anyway…”

His brain stem bent a look of rare approval on his frontal lobe. “Good thinking.”

Cassidy launched a late counterattack, beating them both back, but it was temporary victory at best.  He was screwed and he knew it.  She'd be pissed and he'd be back at square one.

His brain stem, satisfied and flushed with glory, declared victory and retired to plot its next campaign...her complete and total surrender as soon as possible.

Cassidy groaned.  Damn fool woman!