Author's Notes: I am SO sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've had a nasty case of writer's block, so until it was broken, I worked on other stories. You can actually thank Sean Bean for the dissolving of the block. While I haven't seen his new movie, The Hitcher, yet, it did give me an idea, which you'll read about in the next to the last section. The good news is, now that I have my laptop, I'm writing on a regular basis (rather than, whenever I can get to my desk). I believe, though I can't swear to it, that the next chapter will be the final regular one, followed by the epilogue. The epilogue itself will be rather short, but I will also include my mental cast for this story. I have the next chapter started, and I've started making notes for the next story in the series. Also (takes breath), I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story in the Middle-earth Fanfiction Awards. I received third place, the Celeborn Award, and I'm both proud and humbled by it. Thank all of you, so much!
I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter, but if I waited until I was totally satisfied, I'd never get anything posted. With that said, on with the story!
Chapter Eight
The Best Laid Plans
The shower, as it turned out, was exactly what she needed. While Elena took one this morning, before leaving to pick up Megan, a second one was needed. With the onset of winter, her muscles were far more tense, even with a coat. That wasn't taking into account all the other variables. The Lawson murder, Michael, dealing with Madsen (bless her heart), and too many other little things to mention. Elena turned off the water, yanked the towel from the top of the stall, and stepped out. Even through the wall and the door, she heard the knocking at the suite door. Dinner was here, it would seem.
But it could wait a few more minutes. She still had to at least dry off, and wrap up her hair. . .and burning her tongue or the roof of her mouth really didn't have much appeal for her. Nope. Much better to let the pizza cool while she was drying and dressing. Which Elena did in quick, efficient motions. While she wasn't on duty, the habits of more than ten years weren't so easily put aside when she had a day off. Besides, Megan was something of a pizza fiend. . .for almost all Italian food. While they were in high school, it was a running joke that Megan must have some Italian ancestry, given her fondness for the food. Elena shook her head at the memories, smiling a little. Best not to lead Megan into temptation. She was quite good at finding it on her own. Yet another reason not to make any assumptions, even about as someone as quiet as Megan. Or maybe, especially someone as quiet as Megan.
No more than five minutes after the pizza was delivered, Elena emerged from the bathroom, accompanied by plumes of steam. She always did like to make an entrance. The still-damp detective grinned, seeing the pizza on a nearby table, with her partner standing over it, hand on top of the box. Megan looked up from her inspection as Elena joined her, smiled sweetly, and said, "See? I was good! I didn't even open the box!" Elena just stuck out her tongue at her friend, and Megan retorted, using Elena's own words against her, "Sorry. You are so not my type. Too short and wrong plumbing."
"Have I ever told you how evil you are? Because you are, you know. Isn't she, Nico? Huh?" Elena teased. Megan merely smirked, her eyebrows waggling in a way that reminded Elena of her cousin Gavin. He was evil, too. . .only he was better at it. He had a lot more practice than Megan, though Elena didn't mention that to her best friend. The last thing they needed was the Rafferty cousins trying to outdo each other. Instead, she helped Megan carry the pizza box over to the bed, sat down on the bed beside the shorter brunette, and asked, "So what are we doing about plates?"
"Well, I was thinking about that while you were in the shower," Megan began. This sounded promising! Elena couldn't help the teasing smile she directed at her friend, who just rolled her eyes and continued, "We could each use a section of the box. On the other hand, I'm a bit more concerned about napkins. I really hate to use Kleenex or toilet paper, but. . ." Elena just smirked at her friend, waiting for the other woman to make the connection. It took no more than a minute, as Megan stared at her briefly, then dropped her head into an open palm, whimpering, "We're in an extended stay. We have a kitchenette. . .which means. . ."
"We probably have paper towels, at the very least. It's okay. I'm not used to Extended Stays, either, and we just got here. Why don't you put that on the list of things I need to get at the grocery store?" Elena suggested, trying very hard to keep from laughing. Megan nodded, looking more than a little rueful. Her expression became even more rueful when she noticed Nico staring at them hopefully. That was something else. . . they needed dog food for the poor puppy, and probably a bowl as well. Like so many dogs Elena knew, Nico didn't care if food was good for him. Come to think of it, that was true of humans as well. Pizza wasn't necessarily good for people, on the whole, but that never stopped them from eating it.
On their way back to their Suite, they each picked up a soda for consumption with their dinner, and put their respective bottles in the refrigerator. While Elena was in the shower (and presumably after the pizza arrived), Megan pulled the bottles out. As Megan suggested, they each used a section of the box as a plate, and a quick check of their kitchenette revealed that they did, indeed, have paper towels. Once each had everything she need, the partners sat down to eat. And ever, shop talk was strictly forbidden. Not that Elena cared about that this time. . .shop talk would eventually lead back to the murder/torture in Campbell, and things were going too well so far for her to bring that up. However, John Doe/Michael was similarly off limits. Which was too bad, because Elena was realizing that she was quite intrigued by him. . .and not just by the mystery that surrounded him.
Instead, they concerned themselves with far more mundane matters. Such as things that would make their stay here more comfortable, especially since neither of them knew how long they would be here. The pair decided that once they were finished with dinner, Elena would head to one of the local grocery stores. . .they had the Pig, Food Lion, and Winn-Dixie within a five minute of the Extended Stay, so there was no problem with that. While both girls were attired in sweats, Megan was in for the night. . .Elena, on the other hand, had no compunction about going out in public when she was dressed so informally. As they ate, Megan pulled a notebook from her purse and began writing down a laundry list. Paper plates and napkins were at the top of the list, followed by Elena's mousse and her own body wash. Sodas were also a necessity, of course.
While they ate, Elena did tell her partner about her conversation with their captain while she was downstairs, and the details had the desired effect of making Megan laugh. Especially the suggestion to strike up a conversation with someone she never met. Elena didn't know if she would have the opportunity to carry out that suggestion while she was here, if Madsen would be in a nearby line. Still. The South was starting to rub off on her boss. And Captain Anders was right, it would be so worth it, just to see the look on Madsen's face. Elena briefly chastised herself for being so uncharitable. Very briefly.
The conversation next turned to Megan's phone call from her mother, carefully avoiding the part that dealt with Gavin or the Lawson case. Instead, Megan talked about the ports her parents visited while they were on the cruise. Since the three. . .Megan, Kristin, and Gavin. . .pooled their resources, they could pay for a nice cruise. Not a one or two day cruise (though Elena didn't doubt they were nice), but a nice, two-week long cruise with exotic ports of call. Hey, Elena grew up watching The Love Boat, just like Megan did, and to this day, that was what she thought of when she heard about cruises.
Only this time, it would be better, because it was real. Someone she actually knew took a cruise. It was only during the last few years that she knew anyone who had the money for a cruise of that variety. And speaking of knowing someone…knowing Ailsa Rafferty as she did, it didn't surprise Elena at all that her friend's mother took a scandalous number of pictures, both with her 35 mm camera, and with the digital camera that Francis Rafferty gave her for her previous birthday. That was just the way Ailsa was. She took pictures of the ship itself, of the cabin, of the other people on the cruise. And that wasn't even taking into account when they left the ship.
Elena promised herself a long talk with Ailsa, once the matron was finished with her cruise stories and with checking on her daughters. She, and her siblings, had been talking about a cruise for their own parents for some time. Elena wanted to get her input on the cruise, on what she enjoyed the most. She supposed she could have let Ailsa talk to her mother Soledad one on one . .but as much as the Gutierrez family loved Megan, and the Rafferty family felt the same about Elena, the two sets of parents really didn't talk that much. . .at least, not their mothers. Their fathers talked about guy things. Elena's opinion was that her mother and Megan's were really too much alike to get along. They were civil, and even friendly. There were no bad feelings, on either side. It just. . .it was just the way things were.
On the other hand, there were the men of the respective families. Francis Rafferty and Manuel Gutierrez talked about guy things (it would never occur to either man to talk about the cruise, once the pleasantries were out of the way…and the pleasantries included talking about the food). Elena's brother Felipe counted Gavin Rafferty as one of his best friends. Their personalities just meshed, for lack of a better word. At first glance, they were incredibly different. . .Felipe was nearly a decade younger than Gavin, for one thing, and for another, Felipe was happily married. Regardless of those facts, however, the men were very good friends.
Eventually, a companionable silence fell between the pair, broken only when they finished eating. Megan observed, handing the shopping list she'd written out to Elena, "This is everything I could think of, but that doesn't mean it's complete. We have a pretty nice kitchenette, so if you wanna pick up some bread and milk, maybe some fruit and stuff for sandwiches, we've got a place to put it." Elena nodded, reading over the list. Most of it, they talked about. . .but like Elena herself, Megan put things on as they occurred to her, the notebook resting on her knee with a pen stuck down its spiral.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Megan if she would be all right. . .but Elena bit back the words. There was no reason in the world why she wouldn't be all right, and to ask such a question would be an insult to her friend. Instead, she ruffled Megan's curly dark hair and teased, "Mind you keep out of trouble, now. . .Nico, keep an eye on her, and I'll make sure to get you a treat." The dog's tail thumped on the floor enthusiastically, and Megan just rolled her eyes, half in amusement and half in irritation.
"I think you're getting me confused with my cousin, 'Lena. He's the one who can't stay out of trouble for more than twenty minutes at a time. And that's when he's being good," she returned. Elena just laughed. That was an exaggeration, albeit a small one. It did seem at times that Gavin spent more time getting in and out of trouble than anything else. Especially when they were teenagers. On the other hand, he didn't go looking for trouble. Half the time, it just seemed to find him. Like his ex-wife, Witchy-poo (and Elena would apologize to the first witch she met for that insult).
"You have a point there. . .right on the top of your head, in fact," Elena teased, then added, "Ahh, poor Gavin. I wonder what he would say if he knew what we were saying about him." Megan just smirked, her dark eyes dancing with laughter. Not for the first time, Elena thought that Megan and Gavin behaved more like brother and sister, and less like cousins. Come to think of it, neither Megan nor Kristin were as close to their other cousins as they, especially Megan, were to Gavin.
"Knowing my cousin as well as I do, I would venture to say that he would laugh and agree with us. . .and then tell us all about his latest bit of mischief," Megan replied dryly. Elena couldn't help but laugh, because that was exactly what Gavin would do. There was a lot you could say about Gavin Rafferty. . .including the fact that he had absolutely no trouble laughing at himself. Elena smirked a little, following that to its logical conclusion. You could also say he was considered highly attractive, with a dry sense of humor and the same fiercely loyal demeanor of his cousin.
The truth was, when she first met him, more than fifteen years earlier, she had been more than a little attracted to him. If he wasn't her best friend's cousin, and married, she might have pursued him. But. . .but he was. He was Megan's cousin, and he was married at the time. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, Megan was aware of Elena's attraction to Gavin, and took care to look after them both while he was on furlough. He was already realizing that he made a mistake with his marriage, and for that reason, Gavin would have been far more vulnerable. Even to a teenaged girl who was such good friends with his cousin.
Instead of continuing with that conversation, however, Elena told her friend, "Okay. I'll have my cell turned on, in case you need anything else, and I have my room key. Will you be awake when I get back?" Megan shrugged, glancing down at the poster she was working on, then at the television set. According to Mr. Watkins, they also had a DVD/VCR to go along with the TV. Maybe she would pick up a few DVDs while she was out. . .there usually wasn't anything on TV that either wanted to watch. And they had a few more weeks before Serenity came out on DVD (she was seriously considering that as Megan's Christmas present).
"More than likely," Megan answered at last. She offered Elena a rueful smile, and said, "You know, Kristin won't give up until she gets her way. About John Doe. . .about Michael." Elena nodded. And she didn't blame the girl. . .not in the least, but she could also see Megan's point. She also didn't question why her friend was talking about this all of a sudden. Most likely, she had been thinking about it for a time. Megan continued, "She's right, you know. He doesn't speak English, he doesn't remember whom he is."
"And there's something haunting about him. . .maybe it's in his eyes, or something else, but you never really stop thinking about it, and never really stop wondering if there's something you can't do for him," Elena agreed. Megan nodded, and Elena continued, "Then there's the other part of you, which wonders what you can do for him, over and above what's happened already. Find out who did that to him, who tried to kill him. Because we're both cops, and if we did what Kristin wanted, it would like becoming parents to a grown man. A cute one, at that." Megan grinned at that, blushing a little at Elena's observation. Ahhh. . .so she noticed it as well!
"I just don't know if we can do anything for him, 'Lena," Megan said, returning to the topic at hand. Elena looked at her partner, her friend, her sister in all the ways that mattered, and realized something very important. Despite what she said, Megan wanted to agree to Kristin's request. They both did, but unlike Kristin, the partners realized what was in store for them. Even after he was released from the hospital, Michael would still largely be helpless. And they only had a limited amount of time they could take off from work. Elena reached down and squeezed her friend's shoulder.
"One problem at a time, querida," the taller woman said softly, "one problem at a time. We'll do what we can for Michael. Right now, however, we take care of ourselves. I've my cell phone turned on. . .yes, I know I've already said that, and your point is?" Megan just grinned a bit ruefully. She did have that tendency to get ahead of herself, but that was all right. That was why she had Elena. One reason, at least.
"Right. Sorry. You know me. I get caught up in trying to plan ahead, even when it's not really necessary. Okay. Drive carefully, call me if you need me. . .and definitely, take Captain Anders' suggestion. Even if Detective Madsen isn't around, bless her heart," Megan replied. Elena couldn't help grinning. . .eerily enough, Megan was sounding more and more like her mother every day. She ruffled her friend's hair one last time, then danced out of the way of Megan's hand, laughing on her way out the door.
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After finishing his rounds, Ronan Daly returned to his office. . .there was still paperwork to do, and notes to make on his charts. To say nothing about what he would do about Boromir. It would be stating the obvious to say he was glad to see the boy again. He was, in fact, ecstatic. However, Ronan was a practical man. Boromir was here. And he would need a place to stay. The question was. . .with whom? Even after he was released from the hospital, he would need to stay with someone. He wasn't strong enough to take care of himself yet, even without the complication of his amnesia.
Much as Ronan wanted to take Boromir home with him, that wasn't even remotely possible. One, Ronan was not as young as he used to be. Secondly, he couldn't rid himself of the nagging feeling that Boromir really wasn't supposed to be here in Raleigh. He was healed and brought forward in time for a reason. The question was, why. . .oh yes, and whom, as well. Who brought his long-missing fellow forward in time? If nothing else, he wanted to find that person (male, female, or androgynous) and thank him/her/it for giving him a second chance with his old friend.
"Well, I believe this is the first time the term 'it' has been applied to me. . .though under the circumstances, I can hardly blame you," a soft, feminine voice observed from the shadows of Ronan's office. The doctor was on his feet immediately, eyes scanning the darkness. There was no one in his office when he came back. He always checked upon his return, a carryover from his years as a teacher. It took a few scans of the room (he was getting old, that was all there was to it), and then he saw her as she stepped forward. Were it not for his memories of being Gimli, he might well have demanded to know how she got there. As it was, his heart was hammering in his chest like those damnable drums in Moria. However, he did have his Gimli memories, and Ronan had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to know how this woman got into his office. However, that still left another question.
"Who, exactly, are you?" he asked bluntly, his surprise (to say nothing of his racing heart) lending a little brusqueness to his voice. It occurred to him, after the fact, that this was likely a very powerful being, and thus, he should probably be more polite. But he was still Gimli, in some respects, and like his previous incarnation, his respect had to be earned. The woman just smiled and she stepped further into the light, allowing Ronan to fully see her for the first time. Surprise, surprise. . .she was absolutely gorgeous. Of course. Why wouldn't she be?
She stood about six feet tall, with wavy blonde hair that settled over her shoulders, to say nothing of her ears. Ears? Ronan looked closely, wondering for the first time if this woman. . .this female. . .was in fact an elleth. If she was, there was no way to tell. And disloyal though it may be, she was just as lovely as Lady Galadriel, her daughter, and her granddaughter. The young woman (though Ronan doubted if she was nearly as young as she looked) smiled and said, "You find yourself caught between surprise and caution, Ronan Daly. . .once called Gimli, Gloin's son. There is no need to fear me. . .I prize honesty, as well as loyalty."
Well, that was good to know! The woman continued, "As to whom I am. . .you may call me 'Pelagia,' though that is not my original name. Rather, I chose it for myself in this modern time. It was I who brought Boromir of Gondor forward in time, and I who placed him in the alley. Hence, the inability of your society's guardians to find any clues that will allow them to learn the truth. However, that is not your concern. Your sole concerns are the care of Boromir. . .and convincing the young protectors to take him home to Campbell with them."
Ronan didn't answer at first, as he was still processing everything he was told. Item: Boromir was brought forward in time by this Pelagia. He already guessed the whole bit about the alley, considering he recognized Boromir immediately. Item: his task, apparently, was simply to take care of the Gondorian during his recuperation. In other words, just do his job. However, that brought him to the final point. Item: Pelagia, this goddess or demi-goddess, whatever she happened to be. . .wanted him to convince Megan and Elena to take Boromir home with them. That would be more problematic. Though Kristin was already hinting in that direction (if you wanted to call that 'hinting'), Ronan had a sneaking suspicion that her older sister and Elena would be far harder to convince.
Well, he had a demi-goddess (at the very least) here. . .why not get more information from her? With that in mind, he asked, "Do you have any suggestions? I don't know th' girls that well, but it seems t' me that it won't be an easy sell." Pelagia arched her brows, prompting Ronan to continue, "First, Boromir will be in th' hospital for a long time yet. Several weeks, at th' very least. As strong as he is, and as fit as he was before Amon Hen, he still died. He came back, but he did die. That's a lot of trauma for a human body. And secondly. . .what reason could I give for sendin' him home wi' people he barely knows, people who barely know him?"
"You raise interesting points, Ronan. However, I will answer them in reverse. First, though you no doubt are following procedure with this business of taking his picture with the digital camera for the purpose of putting it in the newspaper, there is something you have not yet considered. He is amnesiac. He knows nothing of the English language, save what you have taught him. There would be no way of knowing who to trust once the story ran," Pelagia replied. Oh. Good point. He hadn't thought of that. The female deity continued, "That is how you will present your case to my Champions. As to your first point, does Campbell not have a hospital as well?"
A clinic, according to Kristin, but yes. . .they did have medical facilities. Pelagia went on, oh so reasonably, "Of course. And both Megan and Elena have friends and family in Campbell who would be more than happy to help them take care of Boromir. It is wholly unnecessary for them to shoulder this burden alone." Well, that was also true. Ronan had only to think about Kristin's stories about Damaris, the young woman raising her daughter alone and who currently was unemployed.
Pelagia smiled at him kindly and continued, "You see, it will not be so hard as you think, Ronan. I am here, to act as your devil's advocate. I will help you talk them around. It helps that Kristin wants them to do it. . .that she's already spoken with her older sister about Boromir's future. It also helps that the young ladies in question wish to do more. This is possible, Ronan. We can convince my Champions to take up their destiny as protectors, then partners, to Boromir."
Champions. What, exactly, did that mean? Perhaps she could read his mind, perhaps she intended to address this next. Either way, Pelagia went on, "And yes, that is why I brought Boromir forward in time. I saw him the same courage and determination that I see in my own champions. At Amon Hen, when he defended the hobbits Merry and Pippin, sacrificing his life, I saw everything about him. His grief, his guilt, his pride. It was I who wiped his memories, to give him a second chance. In his new life, as one of my Champions, he will still be a protector. Not of the same people, but he will be a protector nonetheless. Protecting was how he lived and how he died."
At the reminder of Amon Hen, the reminder of Aragorn kneeling beside their fallen comrade, Ronan's eyes misted. He remembered standing there in the forest at the Elf's side, remembered the crushing sense that they were finished, that they had failed. Boromir dead. . .Gandalf dead (or so they thought), Frodo and Sam heading to Mordor alone. So many times, Gimli wondered if there was something he could have done for Boromir. He didn't blame himself, as such. But he couldn't forget Boromir's gentle, compassionate hand on his shoulder in Moria, and wished he could repay the favor.
Well, there was no time like the present. What was done was done, and Boromir was here, now. He said in a husky voice, "Then I thank you for th' second chance. I don't know if I failed him in th' past, but I can be damn sure I'll not fail him now. I swear it." Pelagia lifted her chin, ever so slightly, and smiled at him approvingly. Ronan continued, "I'll do what you asked of me. I'll find a way t' convince them."
"I know you will, Ronan Daly. You did not fail him. Indeed, another one of your tasks is to help Boromir forgive himself, once he remembers his past. He will have need of you then, Ronan. He will need you, perhaps even more than he needs my other Champions," Pelagia replied. She paused, then a smile crossed her face. . .a smile that reminded him of Galadriel for some odd reason. Odder still were her next words, "And you should know. The time is coming when once again, you will meet Legolas, once of Mirkwood. The time is coming, when again your path will coincide with that of Elessar. And the time is coming, truly, for the Nine to be One, once more."
The Nine? One? Ronan's heart sped up once more. She could only mean the Fellowship. And he would see the Elf again? Ronan smiled in satisfaction, as he told the mysterious blonde woman, "And I will take great pleasure in remindin' him that it was I who saw Boromir first!" At that, Pelagia laughed. Ronan started to say something, but just as quickly as she appeared in his office, she disappeared. Ronan closed his mouth, looking around in astonishment. A quick look outside his office told him that he wasn't the subject of any strange looks. That was something, at least. He leaned heavily against his desk, the reality only now hitting him.
"I just had a Visitation from a demi-goddess," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, "if not from a goddess. And I thought this life would be an ordinary one. Oh no, anythin' but! Ah, well. I have work t' be done, and it'll not do itself!" With that, he shook his head again, and walked back around to his chair. There were still charts to read over, and arguments to formulate. Regardless of what Pelagia said, Ronan had a sneaking suspicion that the girls would not make this easy on him! He chuckled to himself, because really, would he want them to do so? Of course not.
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It seemed like he was often waking alone. This was the case once more, as he opened his eyes to a dark, silent room. It was hard to say how late it was, distant as he was from the window. Not that he could have sat up and looked outside. The pain was still present, but had dulled to the point that it was bearable. The musical wheel was silent now, and he had no idea how to start it again. Besides, he wanted to. . .do what? There was little he could do, under the circumstances. Think? Not especially likely. He would find himself wondering how he came to be here. . .where, exactly, here was. . .and other questions that had no answers. That would only lead him to more frustration. . .and then, to pain. He had quite enough of pain.
Next possibility. He could read, aye, but since he was only learning to speak this new language, there was nothing he could read. He would have sighed, but knew all too well that the consequences would be painful, at the very least. Keeping that in mind, he tried to re-focus his attention. Unfortunately, that wasn't nearly as simple as one would think. It would help if he had something upon which he could focus. And then it occurred to him. Though he was still terribly weak, he was healing from the injuries that very nearly cost him his life.
Which led to a new question. . .what would happen to him once he was strong enough to leave this place? He could not stay here forever, of course. At least, it seemed unlikely that he could remain here for the rest of his life. On the other hand, he had nowhere to go. Perhaps it was too soon to be thinking about this. . .it would be some time before he could even get out of bed. But, if he began thinking about the future, it would allow him to prepare. For what? Another question.
What troubled him was, even if he was well enough to leave this place. . .what would he do? He remembered only hints of what, of whom he was before. His command of the language was tenuous, at best. How could he live in the world outside this building if he could barely communicate? The truth was, he could not. The man currently known as 'Mikal' sank against the pillows once more, closing his eyes. He was helpless. Until he learned more of the language, learned a trade, he would find it necessary to rely on others for survival. And that rankled with him. He realized then, too, that despite his promise to himself not to think about the future, he was doing just that. Mikal cursed himself, realizing then that he was going in circles, and getting absolutely nowhere.
The door opened and Mikal opened his eyes. The newcomer was at first a shadowy figure, then he saw it was one of the women who tended to him earlier. Perhaps the one wielding that strange device earlier? Perhaps. In any event, she smiled to see him awake and walked over to him. Her cool hand rested against his forehead, and her smile was approving. However, her eyes fell upon the device at his side, and the smile turned to a frown. She reached down and Mikal tensed, regretting the motion as soon as he did it. However, her finger touched the device instead of Mikal. There was a strange whirring noise, then. . .the music began once more!
Mikal looked up the woman with a surprised smile, and then settled back more comfortably. She smiled back at him, her eyes reflecting warmth, then left the room. Truly, the next time Ronan came to his room, Mikal wanted to learn what to call this odd music box! As he closed his eyes, and his breath slowed, an image took shape behind his eyes. At first, he thought it was a mountain. . .but only at first. It seemed like he was traveling through the air, drawing closer. And as he did, he came to realize that this 'mountain' was in fact a city. A city cut from the very stone of the mountain. The White City. He heard the phrase in his mind, and knew it was one of the names of this city, this breathtaking city. A lump rose in his throat, and though he remembered very little, somehow, he knew. This extraordinary city was his home.
Emphasis on 'was.' Tears burned the backs of his eyes. It was lost to him now. Wherever it was now. . .it was lost to him. He had to find a new way now, a new trade. A new life. Though it was far from the first time it occurred to him (more of that thrice-be-damned circular thinking that made his head hurt), for the first time, the enormity of it struck him. For the first time, it frightened him. And that was when another truth hit home for him. By all rights, he should have died. That part of him which seemed to know things. . .that part of him told him. He should have died from his injuries. But he was alive. And now, he had to create a new life for himself. Despite his best efforts, he found himself back at the original question. Once he was strong enough, where would he go?
Mikal would have groaned, but it hurt too much. For now, he had only one choice. Mikal began whispering the new words Ronan began teaching him. He would never survive if he knew not the language. He had to learn the language, he had to learn. . .he had to learn how to live here. He had to learn how to live here, and he had to get stronger. The question was, how? Yes, he could (and would) eat what was put in front of him. But there was also the matter of walking again. . .of exercising. His options were limited, given his injuries, but there had to be something he could do. He. . .he was becoming tired once more, and Mikal silently cursed his weakness. But that was something else which was required for him to fully recover. Aye, he needed to exercise, but he also needed to rest. He could only push his body so far.
Once, he was sure, he knew how far he could push his body, before his strength gave way. But that information was lost along with the rest of his memories. And his memory was still, by large, gone. Yes, he remembered images, but he still knew not his name, nor from whence he came. Further, his injuries were life-threatening, and right now, he could not push himself. Could not afford to push himself. Mikal sighed and closed his eyes, finding the strength to lift his hand and rub his fingers back and forth across his forehead. In the meantime, he still had to find ways to occupy himself while he was awake. It seemed likely that he would spend a great deal of time alone while he recovered, since it was just as likely that Ronan had other patients who required his attention. He could listen to the magical, musical wheel and he enjoyed it. . .he enjoyed it very much. Mikal smiled. He could not yet speak the language, but he could find ways of communicate. Even if it was hand signals, and he could start with the rainbow wheel. Comforted by this new thought, Mikal began to relax. The music played on, drawing pictures in his mind.
He nestled back against the pillows, closing his eyes to better see the pictures in his mind. Odd, that the pictures only came to mind while he listened to the music. Or perhaps not. It seemed that music could paint pictures in his mind. As it was doing now. . . The city seemed to be carved of white stone, and in truth it was. Carved out from the side of a mountain, the White City had seven Circles and seven Gates. The poorest of the city lived in the first circle, and as one moved up through the circles, the people became wealthier. . .and at the top was the Citadel, where the rulers lived, and as part of that was the Tower of Ecthelion. But the Circles and the Gates served another purpose. If the city was invaded, there was a place for people to go. If a Circle fell, the guards and the soldiers pulled back to the next Circle.
While the White City was the main city of his country, it was not the only one. There was a city in ruins, but still beautiful. Still necessary to defend against the Enemy, if only to keep their people from despairing. He knew just how important it was to have hope, if only because hope was missing from their people for so long. They were all tired. . .they were all so very tired. In addition, this other city was connected to the White City. If the ruined city was overrun, if they lost control of it, then the White City was next. Thus, it had both emotional and strategic value. . .
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After Elena left, Megan leaned over to pull her cell from her purse. Her friend wouldn't have reached her car yet, so Megan was more than a little alarmed when she discovered a message on her voice mail. Her heart pounding, she dialed the number for her voice mail, discovering that she had one message. . .and that it was from Gavin. Her mouth tightened. She shouldn't be angry with him, and she knew it. There was no reason for it. He was just trying to look after her. But, at the same time. . .he should have realized there was a reason for the way she handled things (or didn't, as the case may be).
"Hey, kiddo, it's just me. I wanted to let you know that I was heading to Miami to pick up Uncle Francis and Aunt Ailsa. We'll be back in about a week, maybe two. Listen. . ." And here, Gavin's voice became unsteady, uncertain, "I know you didn't want them to know about Bethany Lawson's death, and I know why. But I won't apologize for looking after you, Meg. You're my cousin, and it's my job to take care of you. We'll talk about this later, honey. I love you."
Megan said nothing at first, just erased the message. She reset the voice mail count to 'zero,' then whispered, "You're right, Gavin. . .we will talk about this later." Nico stared at her, his tail thumping on the bed, and his eyes looked almost sad to her. She reached forward and scratched him behind his ears, whispering, "I shouldn't be angry with him, and I suppose I'm not really. More like annoyed. Thing is, he's making assumptions. That's what upsets me. Gavin knows I don't like it when he makes choices for me. I suppose I shouldn't talk. . .not after my reaction to him getting married."
Nico whined a little and crawled forward until his head rested on her thigh. Megan smiled, which disappeared when her cell phone played O Fortuna. Fearing the worst, she answered immediately with, "Elena?" It wasn't her partner. . .but she wasn't paying attention to the caller ID. If she had, she would have realized it was, "Mayor Farrell?" He hadn't said a word, but she recognized his soft chuckle immediately. Megan felt her face burn with embarrassment. However, embarrassment was mixed with curiosity as she added, "How did you get my cell phone number?" Okay, probably a dumb question, but under the circumstances, it was warranted.
"Lydia Anders gave it to me, along with the rest of the detectives' numbers. It was only supposed to be used in emergencies, but I was concerned about you, and wanted to make sure you were all right," came the response. Megan swallowed hard. Her resolution to put Bethany Lawson's murder was being strained to its breaking point, along with her composure. The mayor continued in a gentle voice, "I'm not tryin' to upset you, Meg. But. . .I know this case has been hell on you."
Now the lump seemed to be taking up permanent residence in her throat, but she whispered, "I'm okay." Yeah, she scoffed at herself, that'll really reassure him. You sound real put together, Megan Penelope Veronica! Not! She realized, of course, that she sounded like Reece, but the call surprised her enough that the discovery didn't bother her as it would under normal circumstances. To bolster her claim, Megan mentally reinforced the wall where she kept her emotions regarding Bethany's murder.
Not soon enough, however. The mayor replied bluntly, "Bullshit. You're not even close to being all right, and we both know it. I used to be a cop, Meg. . .I'm not just some idiot politician who needs to be fed a line." There was a brief pause, during which time Megan raised her eyebrows at the 'idiot politician' line, then Tom Farrell added a bit grudgingly, "All right, I'm a politician. But I was a cop before I was a politician, and the instincts don't go away. Neither do the memories."
Damn, when he put it like that. . . Megan sighed, "I'll be fine, sir." Oh yeah. Real encouraging there, Megan. You sound like some idiot heroine out of a Barbara Cartland novel, speaking in ellipses. The cop ignored the inner voice that was currently mocking her, and tried again, this time saying, "Really. I. . ." And then, she faltered. What the hell could she say? The truth? To paraphrase Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, what if he couldn't handle the truth? She had pushed things to the back of her mind, so she could help Kristin and the mysterious John Doe, and so Elena wouldn't worry so much about her. But she really wasn't okay.
And the mayor knew that. He said softly, "Really, what? You're fine? Megan, Megan, Megan. I've known you since you were born. I was there when you graduated from the police academy. I know you better than you think I do. And I know you're not all right.There's no way in the world you can be all right. Not after what you saw." And that was the rub, for her. What SHE saw. The trouble was, she wasn't the only one who saw it. Elena was there, too. Her partner wept, just as she did. And it wasn't like this was the first bad thing to happen. She didn't have a right to shut down, did she?
"Sir, with all due respect, I realized when I was five years old that the world didn't revolve around me. Yes, I saw something terrible, and yes, I wanted to make that sumbitch pay when I saw. . .what he did. And yes, there's a part of me which wishes 'he needed killing' was a viable defense. But. . .I wasn't the only one who was there last night. I'm not the only one who cut Bethany Lawson down, or the only one who had Bethany's blood on her clothes and on her hands, literally," Megan replied, a little more forcefully than was really necessary.
There was a brief silence, during which time she began to regret speaking so bluntly to the mayor of Campbell, then Tom Farrell asked softly, "That's it, isn't it?" What's it? Megan felt a little nervous at that. Farrell continued after a moment, "No, you aren't fine. But you're not the only one. You're right. But you think that because someone else is suffering, that makes your pain, your grief, your rage, any less? You do, don't you? God, Megan." The sadness in his voice cut her clear to the bone.
In a low voice, she told him, "Bad things happen. We see the aftereffects, the consequences, even if we don't see the crime itself happen. We're cops. That's the way it works. You know Santucci? He's the guy from Chicago, moved here about fifteen years ago. I never really thought about it that much. He's been around for what seems like forever. He found me in the locker room, crying my eyes out. He didn't talk down to me. But he did tell me about something that happened a few years before he moved here. See, he grew up in Chicago, but he's worked as a cop all over the country."
She sat alone in the locker room floor, trying to wipe the tears away. It was a losing battle, because every time a tear was wiped away, another one came rolling down. But at least here, she had some degree of privacy. Or so she thought. The door opened and Megan looked up. At first, she was afraid that it was Captain Anders or Elena. Much as she loved her best friend/partner and much as she respected the captain, she couldn't handle a conversation with either of them at the moment. It was someone else entirely different, however. Someone she never would have expected.
"I won't ask if you're okay, kid. . .I know better than that," Rafe Santucci said, settling his bulk down on the concrete bench beside Megan. She rubbed self-consciously at her swollen eyes, and looked up at the older cop. He had been on the force nearly as long as she had been alive, and she learned a lot from him. Married with two nearly grown kids, Santucci moved to Campbell while Megan was still in high school, and he quickly became a favorite for public relations, since he got along so well with most people. He was just a nice guy, as well as being a damn good cop. The man stared at her compassionately before continuing, "You don't ever forget the first time you see something that horrible. You're kinda young to remember this, but back in '86, a movie was released. The Hitcher. There's this scene, where this psycho, Rutger Hauer plays him. . .he's been tormenting these two young kids who picked him up. He grabs the girl and ties her to two semis. Don't think I gotta tell you what comes next."
Megan stared at the veteran cop, horrified and all too able to imagine what happened to that girl in the movie. Santucci continued, "Well, about a year after the movie came out, I was a young cop. I got a call to investigate screaming. Someone heard screaming coming from this parking lot, and they called the police. I was the lucky guy sent to investigate. By the time I got there, the screaming stopped. There was this. . .what was left of this person. . ." The man stopped, a muscle clenching in his jaw and tears filming his eyes. Megan brushed her own tears away again, and put her hand over Santucci's. He held it tightly as he went on, "The two perps were a pair of drunk, bored kids, who decided to re-enact that particular scene from the movie. And do you know what they said to me, kid?" She shook her head, tears once more rolling down her cheeks.
Santucci swallowed hard and rasped out, "They said, they didn't think anyone would get hurt. And they were bored." The last word was spat out with venom she never heard from the easy-going 'elder statesmen.'
Megan fell silent as she finished her story, blinking back fresh tears. Tom Farrell was also silent, allowing Megan to whisper once she regained her composure, "Don't you see? Everyone sees terrible things. Santucci. . .that's haunted him for almost twenty years. I don't wanna know what my cousin has seen, or what my grandfather saw in the death camps that haunted him to his dying day. Elena saw her grandfather gunned down right in front of her, and she found Bethany, too. I don't have the right to any of this! Not when people see worse things every damn day!"
Mayor Farrell released a breath slowly, then said, "But that sort of thing isn't common in Campbell, honey. For you to say that you don't have the right to what you're feeling. The rage, the grief, the guilt, the horror, the disgust. . .that's just plain wrong. You have every right to it. You have every right to hate that monster, what he did. You have every right to be disgusted and horrified. The fact that Santucci saw what he did, that Elena saw her grandfather gunned down, whatever Gavin has seen. . .none of that takes away from how this affects you. You can't pretend it isn't important, that it doesn't matter. You can lock it away for a while, and I know you'll try. Not because you don't have the strength to deal with it, but because you're so damn determined to protect everyone else. But sooner or later, kiddo, you gotta face it. All of it, in all of its ugliness. Because the longer you lock it away, the more powerful it becomes, and then. . .and then, he wins. I won't let that happen, Megan. When Santucci told you about what happened that night, all those years ago, he wasn't trying to demean what you saw. He was sharing his own burden. That's what I want you to do. You don't have to shoulder this burden alone, and there are people other than Elena who are willing to share."
Megan took a deep breath, and then released it. He wasn't kidding, when he said that he knew her for her entire life. Even so, he never spoke that way before. All her life, he had been a cop, or the mayor. . .or even Miss Jean's son. They never really had much to do with each other, and yet. . . At last, she said in a soft voice, "I. . ." And then, she stopped, because she had no idea what to say. What could she say? He stripped everything away, down to the basics. But in the end, there was no need for her to say anything, because Farrell wasn't finished.
"I talked to Mama this evening, and she told me something about Bethany that I bet you never knew. She heard about it from Brendan. . .not directly. You know how he is. But Brendan said. . .he said that you were a heroine to Bethany. And that if her life had to end under those circumstances, if anyone had to find her, Brendan thought she would be glad it was you. You were her heroine, Megan. I dunno if she would have wanted you to find her. That's a bit of a stretch. But she would be glad that it was you who caught her murderer. . .you and Elena. You've taken care of Bethany, as best you can. Now it's time for you to take care of yourself, kid," the mayor told her.
Good advice, she knew. The question was, could she follow it? Megan closed her eyes, her fingers weaving through Nico's fur. Farrell added after a moment, "Oh, and please don't hold it against me. . .calling you 'honey,' I mean." Megan's eyes flew open, and an involuntary giggle emerged from her throat. The mayor continued, and she could hear the smile in his voice, "Better. Just think about what I said, kid. That's all I ask." She would think about it. And that was all she could promise.
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Much as she would have liked to, Pelagia couldn't take credit for Thomas Farrell's phone call to Megan. He thought of it on his own, after talking to his mother. He really was a nice man, and very much like his grandfather. She never met Richard Dennison, but knew him to be the reincarnation of Aragorn. Pelagia honestly was never that impressed with Aragorn during his first incarnation, during the Third and Fourth Ages, but on the other hand, she paid very little attention to him.
He actually became more interesting to her as just an ordinary man, trying to do his best in a decidedly imperfect world. She understood the appeal of superheroes (though her favorite, once she became aware of such things, was Dr. Fate), but to her, there were few things more heroic than an ordinary person trying to make a difference. Not with super powers or mutant powers or magical powers, but just with his/her heart, mind, and hands.
Which was one of the reasons she liked Thomas Farrell so much. Well, yes, he was a reincarnation of one of the Nine, and yes, he was the father of Frodo's reincarnation, but that made little difference to Pelagia. Truly, Boromir and Gimli were the only members of the Nine she had much use for, and that was only because they were the ones she knew best. No, she liked Tom Farrell because he was just that. An ordinary man who did his best to help others around him, in part because of the suffering he himself endured. Losing his wife while his son was still very young was likely one of the hardest things he ever endured. There were some men who could not have survived that loss. But Tom did. He survived, he raised his son to the best of his ability, and he did his absolute best to ensure other young wives and mothers weren't taken from their families prematurely.
She wondered, briefly, why she never took Thomas as one of her Champions. Pelagia didn't have an answer to that. The truth was, she never really thought about how she chose her Champions. She just did. Still. Tom would have made a fine one. She hoped that Megan would listen to him. He was telling her nothing new. . .just in a different way. The message had been delivered. It was up to Megan now, whether she listened or not. Judging from the look on the young cop's face, Pelagia had a feeling she would listen. In the meantime, Pelagia had other work to do.
The more she watched, and listened to, her two Campbell Champions, the more she thought it likely that Ronan Daly's task wouldn't be as difficult as he feared. Based on the last conversation between the partners, Pelagia realized that Megan wanted to be convinced that her younger sister was correct. She wanted to do something more to help Boromir, but her practical side had a few things to say about that. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If Ronan and Kristin could come up with answers to the questions posed by that practical side, well. . .
All in all, things were going quite well. She was pleased with Boromir's progress, though her heart broke for him often. Unfortunately (or perhaps not), more memories were popping up. He couldn't yet remember the name of his beloved city or his country, but he could see Minas Tirith in his mind. So long as other memories remained beyond his reach for the moment, until he was strong enough to deal with those painful memories, she would do nothing.
Which left Ronan. Gimli. No, Ronan. Like Richard Dennison, he wasn't Gimli, but Gimli's reincarnation. They weren't the same person. They couldn't be. In the first place, Gimli was a dwarf while Ronan was a human. Gimli had a far longer life span than Ronan. There were many other differences between the pair. The point was, while Ronan was Gimli's reincarnation, the pair weren't one and the same. And Pelagia liked Ronan, just as he was. One thing that stayed the same. . .Gimli grew to care about Boromir of Gondor greatly, and that affection was transferred to Gimli's reincarnation. Already, Ronan was becoming ferociously protective of the displaced warrior. Not just because of his Gimli memories, not just because of his Calling, but a combination of those factors and others. In fact, she might even suggest to Ronan that he move to Campbell as well. He wasn't a young man any longer, and it would do Boromir good to have a reincarnated friend nearby. He already had a few, but. . .
Well, one thing at a time. First, she and Ronan had to convince the partners to take Boromir home with them to Campbell. She thought briefly about entering Megan's dreams to encourage her, but Pelagia dismissed that almost immediately. No, this had to be their choice, their decision. She would not meddle more than she already had. At least, not with Megan and Elena. Pelagia was, however, concerned about Megan's relationship with her cousin Gavin.
There was no meddling planned for effecting a reconciliation. . .nothing direct, at least. However, Pelagia wasn't above entering Gavin's dreams, so he could understand why his cousin was so upset with him. Make him see things from Megan's perspective. It wasn't the time for such meddling, not yet. She would wait and see how things played out, once the cousins were back together again. Pelagia understood what Gavin was about, of course. . .but she also understood Megan's reactions.
Well. That still left Galadriel and Olorin. In just a few hours, Legolas Thranduilion and Haldir would be leaving Aman for the world of Men. They would begin the journey that ultimately led to Boromir. . .and to her other Champions. She would not interfere with them. On the contrary, Pelagia wanted them to find Boromir, and Ronan. However, she would brook no interference from the other two. She truly had few worries about Galadriel. Olorin, on the other hand. . . Well. Pelagia never knew him that well, and she had little trust for people, for beings, she barely knew. A warning would be issued. . .and a reassurance. It was likely that they feared Boromir was brought to this time to do evil. She would reassure them that was far from the case. . .and then explain the consequences if they harmed her Champions. Galadriel and Olorin were powerful, yes. . .but so was she. It was the task of her Champions to protect those around them. It was her task to protect her Champions.
