The Past Never Dies Quietly
By Didi
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and don't know anyone that does. Suing me will probably get you the 38 cents in my pocket now and nothing more than that.
Summary: Tasha takes steps to confirm a rumor.
Note: Okay, I knew that it was a bad idea to start a new fan fiction when there are other ones that I haven't finished yet. Can't devote enough time to any one exclusively. (sigh)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Four
"Oh come on, Quick. You have to know where she went!" Val exclaimed with mock exasperation. "You're like her best friend."
"For the last time, Val. Tasha did not tell me where she was going to go." Quick shook his head and continued to beat the punching bag with frustration. Four days without a word. Granted he expected to be at least a week before he so much as get a hint of what may go down but still…
"Quick," Johnny placed that printout on the table and studied his friend for a moment. "Kay printed out the details of security route for you. You want to go over them with Nikki now?"
"In a minute," Quick gave the bag another shove to get it going before taking a hard swing at it as it came back to him. "Tell Nikki that we are not going to put down landmines on the lawn."
Johnny grinned. "She's going to be disappointed. Hey Val, what's up?"
"Quick won't tell me where Tasha went on vacation," Val pouted and stomped her six inch heels. "Oh come on Quick, I just want to send some champagne and strawberries with those yummy whipped cream. She should have something like that if she's really on vacation."
Frowning, Johnny crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "You doubt her, Val?"
"Oh come on," Val exclaimed annoyed. "This is Tasha we're talking about here. Her idea of a vacation is spending three weeks hunting in the backwoods of Canada."
Both men stared.
"What?" She shrugged. "I found her Guns and Ammo magazine."
Shaking his head, Quick unwrap the bandages around his knuckles. "Look Val, Tasha is a big girl. She hardly needs to report to anyone on her actions. She said she went on vacation, so let's just assume that even Tasha needs a little down time every once in a while so that she doesn't lose her mind."
"You mean she hasn't already?"
"Val!" Quick said warningly.
"Okay, okay, no more questions." Val backed off with her hand in the air. After a few minutes of watching Quick remove the protective gears from his hand. "Hum… Maybe Kay can track her by computer," then she was off with the clicking of her heels following.
Johnny grinned at Val's back before turning to Quick. "Should we be worried that Tasha suddenly took personal time?"
Quick gave him a brief look before turning to the computer print out. "We'll know soon enough."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The old church has changed very little over the past seven years. It was slightly more worn down than it had been the last time she saw it but it was basically the same. The pews were had the same scratches, the red candles still sat on the far western walls and the confessional booth was still ornately decorated.
She paused briefly at the confessional doors, not sure if Father Jensen was still around. But after a moment, she opened the door and stepped.
There was silence for some time before another body slides into the booth with her and the iron grid filter through light to reveal the silhouette of the priest.
Swallowing her pride, she leaned forward. "Bless me Father for I have sinned." Her Russian was rusty but passable.
"Tell me what you have done, my child." The voice was still the same after all these years. The smooth velvet edged tone calmed what fears that she held that he might not have been there to help.
Sure of the identity behind the screen, she reverted to English once more. "Father Jensen? Father David Jensen of Buffalo, New York?"
There was a long pause. "Tasha?"
"Yes, Father." She touched the grid with her hand and breathed a sigh of relief. "You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice."
She could almost hear him smile. "I can only imagine. What can I do for you? Or do I even need to ask?"
"Peter."
He nodded. "I thought that was why you'd be here after all this time."
"So he was here?"
"The morning after."
"Did you take him in?" She held her breath and for the first time in a long time, she prayed.
"No," he sighed with regret. "The winter was harsh, we were filled beyond capacity. I could not put him in the common room, too many people would see. I offered my cell for his recovery but he…"
"Has too much pride for that," Tasha leaned her forehead against the grid. It had been too much hope that he would be logical about things. And too much hope that he would make this easy for her. "Do you know where he went?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"At least I know he was alive afterwards." She smiled against the darkness. "Thank you for that."
"I wish I could have been more help to him."
"As do I," she picked up her backpack and prepared to leave. "Thank you for your time."
"Tasha?"
"Yes?" pausing with her hand on the door of the confessional.
"He would have gone somewhere he felt safe, just as he did when he came here. But he is alone, prepare yourself for the worse."
Tasha didn't know what to say, only that she knew in her heart that he wasn't gone yet. She had to keep that hope alive. "Peter is a survivor, it'll take more than a little bomb to take him from this world."
"I will pray for that."
"Thank you again, Father."
"Please do tell me how this will all turn out. I'm eager and anxious to see that he is all right."
Tasha hesitated. Long years of practice made her unwilling to promise to anything she can't be sure of. "I'll send word but I can't promise you anything."
"You never do. Thank you, my child."
"Good day, Father."
By Didi
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and don't know anyone that does. Suing me will probably get you the 38 cents in my pocket now and nothing more than that.
Summary: Tasha takes steps to confirm a rumor.
Note: Okay, I knew that it was a bad idea to start a new fan fiction when there are other ones that I haven't finished yet. Can't devote enough time to any one exclusively. (sigh)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Four
"Oh come on, Quick. You have to know where she went!" Val exclaimed with mock exasperation. "You're like her best friend."
"For the last time, Val. Tasha did not tell me where she was going to go." Quick shook his head and continued to beat the punching bag with frustration. Four days without a word. Granted he expected to be at least a week before he so much as get a hint of what may go down but still…
"Quick," Johnny placed that printout on the table and studied his friend for a moment. "Kay printed out the details of security route for you. You want to go over them with Nikki now?"
"In a minute," Quick gave the bag another shove to get it going before taking a hard swing at it as it came back to him. "Tell Nikki that we are not going to put down landmines on the lawn."
Johnny grinned. "She's going to be disappointed. Hey Val, what's up?"
"Quick won't tell me where Tasha went on vacation," Val pouted and stomped her six inch heels. "Oh come on Quick, I just want to send some champagne and strawberries with those yummy whipped cream. She should have something like that if she's really on vacation."
Frowning, Johnny crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "You doubt her, Val?"
"Oh come on," Val exclaimed annoyed. "This is Tasha we're talking about here. Her idea of a vacation is spending three weeks hunting in the backwoods of Canada."
Both men stared.
"What?" She shrugged. "I found her Guns and Ammo magazine."
Shaking his head, Quick unwrap the bandages around his knuckles. "Look Val, Tasha is a big girl. She hardly needs to report to anyone on her actions. She said she went on vacation, so let's just assume that even Tasha needs a little down time every once in a while so that she doesn't lose her mind."
"You mean she hasn't already?"
"Val!" Quick said warningly.
"Okay, okay, no more questions." Val backed off with her hand in the air. After a few minutes of watching Quick remove the protective gears from his hand. "Hum… Maybe Kay can track her by computer," then she was off with the clicking of her heels following.
Johnny grinned at Val's back before turning to Quick. "Should we be worried that Tasha suddenly took personal time?"
Quick gave him a brief look before turning to the computer print out. "We'll know soon enough."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The old church has changed very little over the past seven years. It was slightly more worn down than it had been the last time she saw it but it was basically the same. The pews were had the same scratches, the red candles still sat on the far western walls and the confessional booth was still ornately decorated.
She paused briefly at the confessional doors, not sure if Father Jensen was still around. But after a moment, she opened the door and stepped.
There was silence for some time before another body slides into the booth with her and the iron grid filter through light to reveal the silhouette of the priest.
Swallowing her pride, she leaned forward. "Bless me Father for I have sinned." Her Russian was rusty but passable.
"Tell me what you have done, my child." The voice was still the same after all these years. The smooth velvet edged tone calmed what fears that she held that he might not have been there to help.
Sure of the identity behind the screen, she reverted to English once more. "Father Jensen? Father David Jensen of Buffalo, New York?"
There was a long pause. "Tasha?"
"Yes, Father." She touched the grid with her hand and breathed a sigh of relief. "You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice."
She could almost hear him smile. "I can only imagine. What can I do for you? Or do I even need to ask?"
"Peter."
He nodded. "I thought that was why you'd be here after all this time."
"So he was here?"
"The morning after."
"Did you take him in?" She held her breath and for the first time in a long time, she prayed.
"No," he sighed with regret. "The winter was harsh, we were filled beyond capacity. I could not put him in the common room, too many people would see. I offered my cell for his recovery but he…"
"Has too much pride for that," Tasha leaned her forehead against the grid. It had been too much hope that he would be logical about things. And too much hope that he would make this easy for her. "Do you know where he went?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"At least I know he was alive afterwards." She smiled against the darkness. "Thank you for that."
"I wish I could have been more help to him."
"As do I," she picked up her backpack and prepared to leave. "Thank you for your time."
"Tasha?"
"Yes?" pausing with her hand on the door of the confessional.
"He would have gone somewhere he felt safe, just as he did when he came here. But he is alone, prepare yourself for the worse."
Tasha didn't know what to say, only that she knew in her heart that he wasn't gone yet. She had to keep that hope alive. "Peter is a survivor, it'll take more than a little bomb to take him from this world."
"I will pray for that."
"Thank you again, Father."
"Please do tell me how this will all turn out. I'm eager and anxious to see that he is all right."
Tasha hesitated. Long years of practice made her unwilling to promise to anything she can't be sure of. "I'll send word but I can't promise you anything."
"You never do. Thank you, my child."
"Good day, Father."