Part Four Afternoon, evening and morning

A continuation on a theme intended to break a bad bout of writers block. My perverse fixations with Rufus Sewell and Mads Mikkelsen have yet to be exorcised. My fan fiction is high on the fiction - so my story is entirely out of my imagination, and is non-canonical to either series, but I've freely borrowed the lovely persons of Allan Fischer (Unit One) and Aurelio Zen from BBC's 'Zen' - two agonizingly beautiful detectives.

A few notes – Fornaldasorgur is a term referring to certain epic Scandinavian Sagas – often the creation myths, and legends & the ahistorical epics. As my command of Danish is not sufficient, please accept italicized comments in this chapter as 'Danish'. FCK refers to Football Club Copenhagen (soccer) a sport team that I imagine Fischer might follow.

Outside Zen's office, Fischer waited in the large conference room - the evidence collected from the site outside Trelleborg, the photos of the bodies and the damaged site. Fischer felt more and more persuaded that there was far more to this crime than simply an antiquities theft – most antiquities thefts involved trespassing and damage but he'd never seen this sort of blatant slaughter involved. Fischer made himself comfortable after a while, and stretched his long legs up on the table top as he leaned back in his chair.

Zen walked in. "So Fischer, show me what you've brought from the site." Fischer smiled knowingly and put his feet down. They examined the evidence,gleaned by the Unit One team, the disturbing images and the other police records. Fischer explained his concern about the violence of the attacks. Zen, impressed was inclined to agree with him, but he hoped that the historian and the archeologist could offer some insights.

Tania came in with the messages and information she collected for Zen and Fischer, Ingrid Dahl had downloaded the report La Cour had worked out examining the scene as well as confirming that in addition to Interpol's advisor she was sending a Danish scholar who was a friend of both Dahl and the late Dr. Magnusson. There were a few messages confirming the time estimated for the arrival of the advisors. Zen surreptitiously watched his lover walk in. Fischer was arranging some images on a white board, and she eyed the Dane as Zen nervously eyed her. Tania had already told Zen about her need for him to trust her and Zen wanted to trust her but it was difficult not to let his growing passion for Tania turn into possessiveness. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him but he feared this would seem as jealousy to her.

Fischer turned, glanced at Zen then noticed Tania starring at his back. He smiled at her – "So you're Tania?" he said politely, and returned to his work. Tania felt her olive skin flush slightly. She cleared her throat and mentioned that she left him the messages from Interpol and Ingrid Dahl. "Tak" Fischer muttered …

"Wot?" she responded…Zen and Fischer were communicating in English but Tania found the Danes accent in a language she was not very fluent in to be confusing…

Fischer turned and within two steps was at her side - he smiled at her, Fischer's eyes were hypnotic and dangerously lupine. "Thank you very much dear lady." He said slowly – articulating each word very carefully. He took the papers from her, and gently kissed the back of her hand. Tania said nothing but looked flustered and Zen watched this out of the corner of his eye, a frown pulling the edges of his exquisite mouth down. Fischer glanced down at the documents from Denmark, commenting that once they'd met with the academics the next day they could check La Cour's report.

Zen glanced at Tania while she patted at her hair and adjusted the collar of her oyster colored silk blouse. Fischer yawned behind his hand and addressed Zen, "I think that I'd like to check into my hotel – I could use some rest and we can get started in the morning when the Archeologists arrive." He looked at the name of the hotel and the address on a scrap of paper.

Zen glanced at the note, "That's not far from here – I'll take you over there – you should have no trouble getting back here in the morning. I'll be right back - Ms. Moretti could you please collect the evidence and place it in my office? Thank you." Zen tried to put all the passion he could into his quick glance but Tania kept her eyes averted as she collected the paperwork.

Once Zen got Fischer to his hotel, it was only about seven blocks from the Questura - Fischer agreed to report back in the morning.

"Take your girl out for a nice dinner." Fischer suggested smiling at Zen "She's pretty - but awfully bony…"

It was after eight pm once Petersen arrived at the hotel and checked in. While other visitors to Bella Roma might go out for a wild night of dancing and love, Elsbeth opted for a long bath and an early night - she felt exhausted. The trip wasn't difficult but she just suddenly felt melancholy - tonight she was dreadfully lonely. Her divorce, while well over a year old still hurt her - her ex-husband's cheating had emotionally scarred her and the handful of men she'd seen after the divorce had come and gone … Elsbeth knew that she was a bit needy, so she tried to avoid romantic situations. But she wanted love and felt starved for affection - so that anytime someone caught her eye she would just get more desperate - and the cycle would continue… She needed to get beyond this pattern, but she dreaded the pain of rejection. She had determined to try again and to try not to be so clinging - even when she was rejected again. She persuaded herself that she would be rejected again, but Petersen felt that it couldn't hurt any more that her current sense of emptiness.

She unpacked and looked out something practical to wear for the Questura tomorrow and glanced at the options on the television as the water ran in her tub. She chided herself for her pathetically unglamorous lifestyle.

Channel 5 offered the 'Twilight' saga (Elsbeths' throat tightened in revulsion) Channel 3 had sport, Channel 4 offered EU news, Channel 12 had 'Titanic' … Elsbeth remembered how Karl, her ex, had always said that he thought she looked like Kate Winslet - she'd never seen any similarities - nevertheless she'd dyed her hair red to please him. "What a fool I was…" she muttered. Channel 10 was halfway through 'A Dangerous Method', but Channel 8 promised 'Tristan & Isolde' …she opted for the medieval romance over the cult of Jung and listened to the dialogue quietly from the bath.

Izkander had checked into his room earlier in the evening, enjoyed a light dinner and continued to review his planned lecture for Helsinki…there were points in his argument that he needed to double check before the conference. He woke early the next morning, a strange dream had troubled his sleep - something about a giant wall and strange stones falling like rain– he wondered if it meant anything - but he doubted it. After a shower, he had a breakfast of eggs, toast and fruit and started over to the Questura.

Zen welcomed in Dr. Izkandr, Fischer nodded at him and they sat for a few minutes making small talk. Izkandr was earlier than expected but Aurelio didn't want to shoo him away –now he was there the other academic should be arriving soon. "I wanted to thank you for cutting your holiday short to help us Dr. Izkandr. I'm expecting the other scholar shortly …is there anything I can offer you? You must be very tired after your journey … Expresso? Café Correcto?"

"I'd like some tea."

"Tea?" Zen paused, a tiny twitch manifesting on his cheek and glanced at Tania. "Do we have tea?"

"The drink's not popular here." Tania replied shrugging.

Izkandr looked dryly at Zen for a moment but before he could say anything the sound from voices approaching from the hallway outside the large conference room. A small blond woman was approached from the hall, escorted by Fabri. It was clear he'd been trying to chat her up but she was ignoring his less than subtle behavior – politely but decidedly - she was not interested. As usual with Fabri, he couldn't take a hint. She had white blond hair and was dressed simply in neat black slacks, a pale green silk tank top and a dark green linen jacket, and she caried a leather satchel. Izkandr stood as she entered, Zen noticed him and decided to follow his example - but Fischer remained seated. Izkandr grimaced at him and muttered something that Fischer snarled to hear. He began to stand as she passed through the door.

"Fischer?" she spoke to him in Danish "Ingrid sent me - EP Petersen." Smirking at the tall Detective she opened her satchel and tossed a newspaper to him "Gaby wanted you to see the news about FCK …" Fischer smiled broadly and grabbed the paper.

Her eyes moved to Zen as he approached "Good morning Superintendent … Ari? It's really so good to see you again... How are you?"

"Have we met?" Zen wasn't trying to be presumptuous or rude - she just seemed awfully familiar to him but he couldn't place her. The notion that they might have once been lovers and now he was unaware of it, made him feel dreadfully cruel and chauvinistic. She wasn't unattractive at all, tiny but shapely, pale and blond with a heart shaped face and a gentle friendly demeanor, attractive in a quiet way, and sweet, but generally speaking she just wasn't his 'type'.

"Yes - but it was years ago, I certainly can't blame you if you don't remember - I've been asked by Chief Inspector Dahl to assist with an antiquities theft … Professor Elsbeth Petersen."

Zen smiled and struggled to remember when they might have met… she's spoken Danish a few minutes before and now she chatted in English to him, her accent perfect BBC received. How did she know him?

"I'd like to introduce you to Dr …" Elsbeth turned as Zen gestured to Izkandr. EJ just starred at her - she had the most open luminous dark green eyes he'd ever seen and he suddenly felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Everything in Izkandrs' world was suddenly very, very still. She took his hand and gazed up at him with a reverence bordering on worship, Izkandr was a rock star as far as she was concerned.

"Dr. Izkandr?" She said quietly interrupting Zen and gazing at EJ– "this is a great honour sir – I - I consider you to be the greatest Fornaldasorgur scholar of our generation …" she sighed. Izkandr thought he'd never heard a voice that was so erotic – but then again what man didn't enjoy hearing himself being praised. "I was dazzled by your most recent essay on the influence of proto Slavic mythology on a modern rereading of the essence of the Heimskringla - your reinterpretation of selected verses of the Havamal…" She blushed slightly, "Well I must disagree with your translation of some of the text …perhaps you would spare me a few minutes later to discuss this …"

Izkandr's felt his blood pounding in his ears, she'd clasped his hand in both of hers as she spoke - good god her fingers were lovely, smooth and so slender. Unbidden, he found himself imagining her doing things to him with those hands… touching him… caressing him…

Oh god this was pathetic – he was getting aroused by a woman's voice and her hands… he'd been alone far too long.