Disclaimers: as ever.

Thanks for those reviews. Sorry about the lack of updates on this. I promise I'll start updating more regularly again so I can finally get Sydney and Nigel into the same scene!!

Oh, and for those of you waiting for the next chapter of Resolution, I'm working on it! I'll try get something up over the next day or so.

Chapter 13: Closer

'Okay, so which way do we head?' asked Sydney, still fiddling with the numerous switches and buttons on the planes dashboard. She didn't have a clue what most of them did!

'Um…hard to tell,' said Preston, who was still rather flustered. 'Can you see a lake anywhere? We need to head for Lake Lagoda then keep straight on. That's the way to Archangel…sort of!'

Sydney squinted her eyes and scanned the vast country beneath them. They were reaching several thousand feet now and beneath them all she could see was lush, pine forest. In the distance to the east, however, she made out the shimmering surface of a lake. 'I think I've got it…'

'This is no good!' interjected Ann-Marie. 'What we need is another airstrip, somewhere to come down before the Russians pick us off like a sitting duck!'

'We ought to be safe above the lake,' pointed out Sydney.

Preston, however, had gone as white as a sheet: 'What if they scramble a jet fighter? They'll shoot us down in this thing in no time!'

Sydney smirked and, to her relief, Ann-Marie laughed too. 'I doubt even you're quite important enough for that honour! The lake looks amazing, though – wow!'

They all gazed momentarily towards Lake Lagoda as they zoomed closer; a dark, azure blue, it sparkled under the bright, late autumn sun, its edges laced with archipelagos of little, green islands. Other than that, the water stretched hazily towards the curving horizon of the earth.

'It's around one hundred kilometres across, I believe' said Ann-Marie, leaning over Preston's shoulder to read the map. 'We need to find somewhere to come down as soon as we hit the other side, though, not least because the fuel is dropping fast.'

She pointed to the tank: from being around half-full at take-off, the indicator was now suggesting it had little more than a third.

'I'm sure we'll make it to the far side of the lake,' stated Sydney. 'Preston, can you for somewhere to land over there?'

Preston rustled the map noisily as he turned it over. 'Ah…here we are. Hmmm, its mainly forest and blank looking tundra…ah, look, there's a place, Petrozadvodsk.'

'Petrozavodsk must have an airport,' said Sydney. 'It's the capital of the republic of Karelia, and a beautiful city. I dropped by on a hunt once.'

'It certainly does have an airport,' said Ann-Marie, 'but we can't risk coming down anywhere so public! Besides, I don't think we'll make it that far!'

Sydney glanced again at the fuel gage: 'I hate to say it, but you're probably right. Is there anything else?'

'There's another airstrip a few miles from the north-west corner of the Lake at…oh God, I can't read the bloody names when they're only in Russian…but, anyway, its there and its not far from the main M18 road, that goes, well, roughly in the right direction! But…um, whatever it was called, the name is crossed out, which suggests it was disused when this map was made a good few decades back.'

'Oh. Is there nothing else?' asked Sydney.

'No!'

'Well, that's where we're going then. What should my bearings be?'

'Uh, straight on, well north-east …I think…but it's a bit of a risk. What if the runway isn't there any more?'

'Do you have a plan B?'

'Err, once again – no!'

'Fine,' said Sydney. 'Then the runway will have to still be there. Archangel here we come… let's just hope I can work out how to land this thing!'

Ann-Marie and Preston exchanged horrified looks: 'what?!'

'Uh, you know the story - I learned to fly, yes. Land…uh, no!

'Oh yes, I know the story,' wailed Preston. 'Indiana Jonescould fly and not bloody land!'

'Well, what are you worrying about, then? Indy landed the plane okay in Last Crusade, didn't he?'

'NO!' shouted her two passengers, once again in tandem.

'If memory serves,' groaned Preston. 'Indiana Jones crashed the plane!'

'Actually, I seem to recall he was shot down,' grinned Sydney. 'And there's nobody shooting at us…yet! Anyway, I have landed a plane before…well, I've crashed twice, once in Nova Scotia, which ended up being rather fortuitous for the Sister of Mercy, and once in Mexico when I was with Dallas…' She couldn't repress a smirk at the circumstances of the Mexican crash: she had been a lot younger then, and had been rather easily 'distracted'.

'I have landed once,' she concluded. 'Well, sort of…using a stimulator.' Having finished setting the navigation, she lent back in her seat and stretched out her arms, even as her two passengers regarded her with horror. 'So relax, guys! Everything will be just fine!'

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

'Will you go make yourself invisible?'

Derek slammed the door shut behind him as hard as he dared and glared at Nigel. His friend was snuggled in the bunk, glasses propped on the end of his nose, and studying the increasingly numerous sheets of paper he had been snaffling from Deviega's office, and which he had propped up on his knees.

'No,' retaliated Nigel grumpily. 'I'm sick of squeezing myself into freezing cold pipes and squinting to read by torchlight. I swear, over the past couple of days I've had cramp in muscles I never knew existed. And, as far as I can see, nobody has ever come in here, so what's the problem?' His focus returned to the fascinating papers in front of him.

'The problem,' stated Derek, grabbing away the papers so suddenly that Nigel jumped, 'is still you! This place is getting more dangerous by the minute. We're going to be in port in one day and, for the first time, I just risked using the radio to send a message.'

'Who to?' asked Nigel, snatching the papers back.

'To Sydney Fox.'

'Sydney?' Even for Nigel, the papers suddenly lost their interest. 'Seriously? What did you tell her? Did she say anything…about…um, me?'

'I didn't speak to her direct,' said Derek, yanking off his sweater and T-shirt – Nigel cringed and averted his eyes from the other mans' impressive physique - and then pulling on a sleeveless muscle-vest. 'I sent a message via an Interpol code to get word to her by any means instructing her to rendezvous with us at the military installation in Severodvinsk, in approximately thirty-six hours. I thought her expertise might be invaluable in the last stages of recovery.'

Nigel nodded, still digesting the information. 'And does that, uh, mean that you're not going to blow the Needle up?'

'That is still to be determined.'

'Oh.' Nigel wanted to argue, but he now overcome by very mixed feelings. He wanted nothing more than to see Sydney again – but what would she say? Was she still angry? What's more, while half of him lauded the plan, he also experienced a significant pang of resentment that Derek saw Sydney's presence as necessary. So, after everything, his 'buddy' still thought he was inadequate to even the task of relic hunting without his beautiful boss.

But then, he was, wasn't he? They were a team…

'I thought you'd be pleased.' Derek pulled a thick wool sweater over the vest. He liked the bare-shouldered 'look' but it was just too darn cold to pull it off right now! The temperatures on the boat had dropped to below freezing as they rounded the northern coast of Scandinavia, nearing the mouth of the White Sea. The boat's navigators had to keep constant watch for ice-flows – a scary thought given most of the crews' apparent incompetence. He glanced over at Nigel, noting that he had wrapped himself in every blanket in the cabin – and few that he feared came from somebody else's. He still looked pale and he could somehow sense his friend's teeth were chattering. Nigel was staring, his eyes increasingly misted, at the papers raised on his lap.

'Well, aren't you pleased?'

'Of course I am…its just…just…'

'You're apprehensive about seeing her because you argued.'

'No.' Nigel took a deep breath. 'Sort of….oh, who am I trying to fool. Yes, we argued…but not before, not before…'

'Not before you'd 'had' her?'

Nigel scrunched his nose in disgust. 'Don't be so crude!'

'I'm only quoting your good self!'

The American was now in the bathroom, and Nigel couldn't help peeping nosily to see what he was doing. Derek Lloyd was regarding himself intently in the mirror, and reaching for a tube of hair-gel.

Still, the last comment riled him: 'You said you'd never mention that again!'

'I'm not talking about that…I'm talking about you and Sydney. What happened, my friend? I thought you'd know her well enough to enjoy it while it lasted in the knowledge that she'd always move on. Sydney Fox is not a one-guy woman.'

'You…you're wrong…she just, just…'

'…hasn't found the right man yet?' Derek laughed softly to himself. 'Didn't she think she'd found Mr. Right in that moron Greg, or whatever he was called.'

'Grey,' said Nigel softly. 'He was called Grey, and she never loved him, or he her. She thought she did but she said…she said…'

Derek emerged back in the room, his wavy hair neatly coiffed, a towel around his shoulder. 'She said what?'

'She said she loved me, Derek…that I was her best friend, and…and when I said I loved her she said I made her happier that she ever deserved to be…' Nigel drew one hand wearily across his forehead. 'Then we were so happy for, oh, about a fortnight…and then we got back to Trinity'

'Phew!' Derek puffed out his cheeks in surprise. 'I had no idea it got that serious…what happened?'

'Its too depressing to even think about!'

'Everything went back to normal, I guess? She kept things quiet, started playing the field again?'

'No!' replied Nigel adamantly. 'Well…and yes. Sydney wouldn't tell a soul about us, not even Karen, even though she suspected something was amiss. She said she wasn't ready and, though she flirted a bit and I got impatient with the secrecy – I wanted to tell the world I loved her – but I wasn't really worried. Then…bloody Grey turned up again. It was obvious from the start it was a ruse to win her back. He brought a cryptic map showing the whereabouts of an ancient Caribbean burial urn - and he knew she'd bite. So off we all went to the Dominican Republic, her swearing blind she wouldn't take the bait…and…and…'

'…they slept together?'

'Nnnng! Oh I don't know!' Derek was a little taken aback by Nigel's cry of despair, and disturbed by its volume. He raised a finger to his lips, and Nigel's tones fell hushed as he continued.

'I was just so jealous that when they went off to get the urn alone, and came back laughing and flirting that I assumed they did. Well, they probably did, didn't they?'

Derek blinked at Nigel, almost disbelieving – that was a genuine question. 'Don't know, buddy, not my 'need to know'!'

'Don't joke. I needed to know. I lost my temper and Sydney went off the wall! She wouldn't tell me either way…so the moment we got back to Trinity, I booked myself on a flight to London.'

'I see,' said Derek. 'And do you still think she slept with him?'

Nigel moaned again, squeezing his eyes tight shut. 'I don't know…in a way, I don't care! I just want things to be like the way they were, before I went and spoilt everything! She always flirted with tons of men, and I went along with it…hell, I've flirted with enough pretty blondes on our hunts! What right did I have to think that I could keep her all to myself?'

'That's a very noble attitude,' conceded Derek. 'Unnecessarily so, I think.'

Nigel barely heard him. 'What right had I to tie her down, to claim her…I just…just…want to be with her, take care of her…she does need somebody to take her of her, Derek…honestly, she does!'

'Yeah, and you always did a great job!' Derek patted Nigel reassuringly on the shoulder. 'And I hate to be the one playing agony aunt, but you guys need to talk.'

'I know,' muttered Nigel wanly. 'But what if she doesn't want me back…I don't know what I'd do…in London, even with my research, life was just so…so…empty…'

'She will! Heck, I'm willing to postpone finding the Needle for the matter of minutes it is going to take you guys to sort everything out!'

'It might take more than that…oh, Derek! I'm just so bloody miserable! What am I going to do with my life without her?'

'Hey!' Derek leant down, this time placing both hands on Nigel's shoulders, looking at him straight-on with his twinkling blue-eyes. 'What about you? What about Nigel Bailey, the brilliant young scholar, the lady-killer?' He couldn't resist a wink. 'My money's on betting she can't let her best assistant go. But there's plenty you can do without her; plenty of other people who'd want to spend a lot of time with you.'

'I don't know…' Nigel shuffled self-consciously, and Derek drew away. 'I don't think I can ever make her really happy…'

'You already do! And as for her sleeping with Grey, well she might have done…but getting into Sydney Fox's underwear is not as easy as you might think.'

'I never said it was!' interrupted Nigel, instinctively incensed.

'You sure as heck implied it was, for the right sort of guy. Well, it isn't! After we got back from New Guinea I tried – boy, how I tried! Music, dancing, candlelight, food and wine…and all I got at the end was a chaste thank you kiss on the cheek and an 'it's been pleasant, Derek Lloyd'. She isn't easy, Nigel! You did well!'

'I'm not sure if I should take that as a complement or not,' said Nigel carefully.

'You should!' Derek flashed a toothy grin. 'I'm guessing, despite that calm, collected facade, she's beating herself up every bit as much as you are over this. After all, if truth be known, she can't live without you either, however much she fools herself. The only question is…'

'Yeah, I know, friends or lovers?'

'Same difference. The real question is whether this takes you one or two minutes to sort this out after the second we rendezvous. I'm hoping for the former, because time is short! Talking of which…' Derek paused and picked up the papers Nigel had been studying. 'Any luck?'

'Um, maybe,' said Nigel, quietly relieved to have changed the subject. 'Lots of love poetry, and it's pretty explosive!'

'Sounds like what we're looking for?'

'I don't know. I can't quite decipher all of it because the rubbings are so poor, but listen to this bit…'

Thus by your belief I have changed stone to fire
And my heart shall lay waste
to all that would divide us,

When dust pierces stone and thus I call:
"Anhur's weapon will be my salvation,

For I seek you with longing, And without you I am as one dwelling in a tomb.

Derek listened intently as Nigel read, and then frowned perplexedly: 'Changed stone to fire? Dust pierces stone? Is that the formula - what kind of dust?'

'Well, I don't know yet…but it might be here somewhere. Anhur is the Egyptian God of War, though, so I'm sure this is a breakthrough…'

'Might just be quasi-religious mumbo jumbo then,' snorted Derek. 'Is there nothing else?'

Nigel ruffled his fingers through his hair in frustration. Sydney would never be so dismissive of even the tiniest clue, let alone such a fascinating one! 'There is one other thing,' he continued, his enthusiasm only slightly diminished. 'I've just found a passage in Ancient Greek. I have had time to read it all yet but it seems mighty odd!'

'Ancient Greek? Why would there be Ancient Greek on an Egyptian artefact?'

'Well, Cleopatra was descended from a Greek dynasty, that of Ptolemy, one of the Generals who received the Egyptian portions of Alexander the Great's Empire after his death. By the famous Queen's reign, glyphs were only used for ceremonial purposes; Greek was used for business…which might mean…'

'…this is the passage you've been looking for.' completed Derek.

'Well, um, possibly…'

Derek, however, was now glancing down at his watch, and scarcely noticed Nigel's uncertain tone. 'Good work,' he barked. 'Keep it up, but don't you dare steal any more papers. I have somewhere to be, so I'll see you in approximately one hour.' He suddenly grabbed Nigel's arm again, not in the slightest bit gently this time, and dragged him out of the bunk. 'And for Christ's sake get back into that pipe before I have to seal you in there!'

'Like I said before – you're a bloody slave driver,' grumbled Nigel, but did what he was asked, all the same.

Thanks for reading. Please review. Yeah, and I promise to get the plot cracking on in the next chapter.