Shelter from the Storm Chapter 5

All standard disclaimers apply. This story is mine, as are the characters of Leyza Berard, Ray Garcia, Phillippe and Marie Vachon, Francine, Solange Laperrier and Jeremy Cole. Please do not borrow them without asking.

The Highlander concepts and the characters of Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson and May Ling Shen are not. They belong to Gregory Widen, Davis/Panzer, Rysher, Gaumont and probably a few others I've forgotten. I've dared to use them without permission, and hope they'll forgive the transgression, because this story is merely a labor of love. I'm not making a cent from it.


He couldn't say how long he'd walked. He walked without direction, heedless of all around him, allowing his mind to escape to a numb place where pain no longer existed. He found comfort in the rhythm. A minimal peace in the calm fluid motion. And he found a small haven where he could retreat from the nightmare.

Then he stopped. Something had pierced the armor that shielded his mind. Something had sent ripples across his tranquil sea. It pressed on his mind, throbbed in his head the way only one thing could. He had wandered into sensory range of another Immortal.

He reached under his coat for the kali stick as he glanced around. Then he smiled when recognition set in. He had stopped at the end of a bridge - Pont St. Louis. The bridge where he'd stood last night. And Leyza Berard now stood in the middle. She watched him approach.

"So we meet again," she said, easing her feet apart as she touched the open edge of her coat.

Duncan noted her actions. He lifted one eyebrow. "Hunting?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "You?"

He smiled as he shook his head. "No ... I've--"

"I know, given up taking heads for Lent," she finished with a broad grin. "Come back to talk to my friend, have you?"

He glanced around, still trying to shake the trance he'd fallen into while he walked. "I was ah ... out for walk, and I just ended up here."

"Uh-huh," she said, nodding. A wise smirk lit up her face.

She didn't believe him. That was clear. Didn't believe he had ended up on the bridge by accident. Had he? He couldn't be sure.

"So what does bring you out here in the middle of the night?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"So you could ... but I asked you first," she parried. Chuckling softly, he shook his head. "So you did." He turned toward the river, then rested his forearms on the bridge railing. "Insomnia," he answered. It was as good a non-answer as any.

He turned his head to look at her, to check her reaction. She watched him with a speculative gleam in her eyes and a smile on her face. He couldn't help smiling back.

"Hmmm, insomnia?" she mused. "Let me see ... guilty conscience, perhaps? Stress? Depression? Too many spices in the bouillabaisse?"

"None of the above," he answered. A lie for sure, or at least a stray from the truth. "Your turn."

"Me?" she asked. "Definitely, too many spices in the bouillabaisse." She grinned, then she turned to gaze down at the river.

Her shoulders lifted, and Duncan thought he heard the faint whisper of a sigh. So she could lie as well. He wondered what troubled her, but it wasn't fair to ask if he was unwilling to share his own reasons.

The night was clear, but colder than the last one. Standing side by side, each lost in their own thoughts, they fell easily into a companionable silence.

Duncan found the silence strangely soothing - far more soothing than walking empty streets alone. That thought struck him as odd, for it was the kind of silence that only feels comfortable with a close friend. Standing here on a bridge in the middle of a cold dark night with a perfect stranger, he felt more at home than he had anywhere in a long while.

"I miss the stars living in the city," Leyza said, after a few minutes. "Don't you?"

"I hadn't thought about it," he answered - the truth. He hadn't thought about stars in a long while. Stargazing was one of those simple pleasures that had fallen by the wayside.

"It's the damned light pollution," she continued. "It dulls their spark until you can't tell the Pleiades from Orion. Even the North Star is pale."

"You're an astronomer?" he asked, probing, hoping she would reveal information about herself. Hoping she would do it without asking difficult questions in return.

She laughed as she shook her head. "Strictly an amateur," she answered. "One of my mortal lovers was, though. Jonathan taught me the names of all the constellations, and how to pick out the planets. Now I've forgotten most of what I knew. They still fill me with wonder though."

"Yes," he answered. He couldn't think of much to contribute to a conversation about stars.

"If we keep our heads," she mused. "We could travel there one day. It's an exciting prospect to contemplate ... no?"

He smiled. "I guess it is. But that's a long way into the future. Who knows if we'll still be around."

"True, I suppose," she said, with a shrug. "But I'm an incurable optimist. The possibilities that lie before us as Immortals are limited only by our imaginations - that's what's so exciting."

He sensed she had turned to look at him, so he turned his head to meet her gaze. The smile that brightened her face, and the sparkle in her eyes reflected a zest for life he'd begun to forget existed. Even though he knew something troubled her, it was clear she still believed in possibilities.

The startling notion that she spoke the truth left him speechless. He suddenly realized, that while he was stripping his life of all distractions, he'd jettisoned possibilities along with the rest of his excess baggage. Perhaps it was time to explore his possibilities again. Perhaps now it was safe to allow distractions to creep back into his life.

He studied her in silence for a moment - stared at her for as long as politeness would allow. If he hadn't noticed the deep pool of wisdom in her eyes, hadn't felt the calm confidence she exuded, he'd have sworn she was newly Immortal.

Even though he'd fought to hold on to it, the excitement of being Immortal had faded somewhat after four centuries of killing to perpetuate his long life. Many times he simply lost sight of it. Over the last year or two, it had vanished without leaving a trace.

Fitz always had a way of helping him find it again, he mused ... but Fitz was dead. Amanda usually could too, but she was off in Greece with Methos.

"Did I say something wrong," Leyza asked, touching his arm with a gentle hand.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I was just thinking about ... never mind ... it's not important." Leyza Berard could be new, but instinct told him she was not.

He returned her smile, then looked away. Her shining enthusiasm struck a chord deep within him, and the note it played was bitter sweet. He couldn't bear to listen to it. Not now, not yet anyway. Still, he couldn't chase the pleasant feeling it left behind, and he savored it as they fell into silence once more.

"Duncan ... do you like, croissants?" she asked, after a few minutes. The silence peeled away slowly as he tried to understand the odd question.

"Pardon?" he said, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. "Do I like what?"

"Croissants ... do you like them? Or fresh brioche ... baguettes, perhaps, still hot from the oven?" she repeated the question, expanding it.

He smiled as he shook his head in wonder. First stars, now bread. This was the oddest conversation, yet his mouth watered as he recalled the taste of warm bread lathered with creamy butter. A slight twinge of hunger rippled through his stomach. "Sure," he answered. "Why?"

"Because," she said, leaning close as though they were conspirators in some nefarious plot.

She threaded her hand though his arm, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "I have friends who own a bakery not far from here. It's nearly dawn, and they should be taking the first batch out of the ovens as we speak. If we hurry, we can catch them in the act."

Without waiting for his response, or even asking permission, she tugged on his arm as she began walking toward the other side of the bridge. He gave a millisecond's thought to protesting, then he shrugged, why not?

"I suppose that's were we're going," he asked as he fell into step beside her.

"Yes - I go there for breakfast every morning. Marie makes the best coffee in all of Paris, and Phillippe makes the best croissants." she said, then she stopped. A frown of confusion marred her brow for a second, then she flashed him a smile filled with chagrin.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Here I am dragging you off to breakfast, and I never even asked if you wanted to go."

"It's all right," he said, feeling suddenly buoyant - a sensation he'd begun to associate with her. He laughed, as he settled her hand into place on his arm. "I rather like being dragged off when it's a beautiful woman who's doing the dragging."

She muffled a delightful giggle and what he suspected was a blush with her other hand, then she looked up at him. "I'll bet you say that to all the women you meet."

"No," he said, slowly. "Only the ones dragging me off to breakfast."

"This is it," Leyza said, turning to guide him down an alley. She paused before a screened door near the end of the building, then she rapped on the frame.

"Hello ... Phillippe ... Marie ... company!" she called out as she pulled the door open, then motioned for him to follow her.

The room beyond the door appeared to be a store room. Sacks of flour and sugar, cartons of spices and racks of baking equipment filled nearly every inch of space. Only a narrow path remained clear. At the far end, light shone through a curtained doorway.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps into the room when a giant dressed entirely in white pushed through the curtain. He filled the door frame and nearly blocked out all traces of light. Beaming a broad smile framed by a neatly trimmed reddish brown beard, he held out arms the size of tree trunks.

"Ah bonjour, ma petite!" he exclaimed, wrapping Leyza in what was literally a bear hug.

Duncan smiled at the contrast. Leyza was by no means petite. The top of her head came to just below the level of his own eyes, so she had to be about 5' 7" or maybe 5' 8" - yet next to this Goliath, she was, indeed, small. Next to this man - who he assumed was Phillippe - most everyone would be small.

The giant released Leyza from the hug, then bent over to accept the kiss she planted on his cheek. "Uff, I'm getting flour all over you, petite," he said, brushing white dust from her face with a large thumb.

"A little flour won't kill me," she said, laughing, then she turned to Duncan.

"I hope you don't mind ... I've brought a guest. This is Duncan MacLeod." She stepped back so Phillippe and Duncan could shake hands. "Duncan ... Phillippe Vachon."

"Come in, come in," Phillippe said, as he ushered them through the curtain. "You're late, and Marie was worried you wouldn't come."

"Marie is always worried," Leyza answered. More of her laughter danced around the small room.

Warmed by more than just the heat from the ovens, Duncan followed them into the kitchen. A slender woman came through an open door on the opposite side of the room.

"Phillippe is the one who worries, not me," she said with a friendly smile. "I knew you would come." She wiped her hands on a crisp white apron, then enfolded Leyza in a hug.

Tall, but nowhere near the height of Phillippe, Marie looked over Leyza's shoulder. She narrowed her eyes as she regarded Duncan with a slight frown.

Leyza slipped out of Marie's embrace, then turned to him, treating him to another glowing smile. "I hope you don't mind my bringing Duncan along," she said, fluttering her hand in his direction. "I found him wandering the streets, and he looked cold and hungry." She winked to show she was teasing.

"No, of course, I don't mind," Marie said.

She smiled as she tucked straying wisps of sandy blonde hair beneath a baker's cap, then she wiped her hands on the apron again. "Please ... come in ... I've just made a fresh pot of coffee."

She slipped her hand under Leyza's arm, then towed her toward the front of the shop. "I look a fright," she whispered.

Her voice was still loud enough that Duncan could hear, though he wasn't sure whether or not that was her intention. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiled, then turned back to whisper to Leyza once more.

"Next time you bring such a handsome guest, give me a little warning first," she hissed. "I'm such a mess ... what must he think?"

"You look lovely as always," Leyza said, also keeping her voice low. "And he is handsome, isn't he?"

The two woman muffled giggles and a few more comments that he couldn't hear - wasn't sure he wanted to hear. The sounds of their laughter and the signs of their warm friendship mingled with the comforting smell of fresh bread and the heavenly aroma of strong coffee. The rich melange wrapped around him like a cozy blanket as he stepped forward to join them. Then he stopped when the glass walls rose up before him once again.

He didn't belong here in this intimate scene. These people were obviously good friends, and he was a stranger in their midst. An extra cog in a well-tuned machine. He shouldn't have come. Taking a step backwards, he turned to leave - turned right into Phillippe.

"Marie would be insulted if you left without having a cup of coffee," he said softly, yet coming out of this bear of a man the simple comment sounded more like a growl than a whisper.

Duncan didn't think it wise to insult the wife of a man nearly twice his size, and he couldn't get past him even if he was willing to take the risk. Given so few options and tempted by the smell of fresh bread and coffee, he simply shrugged. What was he to do? What was the point? He turned around, then preceded Phillippe into the next room.

The baker edged around him, then crossed the small room in one long stride. He stopped at a table, gaily swathed in a blue checked cloth, that fit neatly into one corner. Giving Duncan absolutely no room for escape, he pulled a spindle-backed chair out from the table, then with a wave of his very large hand he indicated that Duncan should sit in it.

Phillippe sunk into a chair at the table's head. He regarded Duncan with a flinty glare while Marie bustled about setting mugs filled with steaming coffee and plates of golden bread before them.

"Have you known Leyza long?" he asked after a few discomforting seconds.

Leyza reached out to place her hand on top of Phillippe's. "We just met," she said, then she patted his hand. "And it's all right Phillippe. You can stand down from guard duty. Duncan isn't going to bite."

Phillippe continued to stare at Duncan for a moment, then he turned to Leyza and he grinned. "I wasn't--"

"Yes, you were," Leyza said with an answering grin. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself, remember?"

Duncan felt as though he'd walked in on the middle of a film. He was lost. He had no idea what the plot was about. But as Marie came over to sit with them, the joy of their bubbling conversation flowed over him.

The trio opened their circle and made a space for a stranger. They shared the glow of their friendship with him. Their laughter-filled chatter was contagious, and before long he found himself laughing along with them. Surprised that he still had something left to laugh about, he even added a few anecdotes of his own.

Too soon, reality broke the spell. The rattle of the front door signaled the arrival of the bakery's first official customers, and Leyza stood. "Sounds like the mob is storming the Bastille," she said. "They all want their bread ... we'd better let you get back to work."

Phillippe hauled his massive body out of the chair. "Let them eat cake," he grumbled. "I'm tired of work."

Marie winked as she pinched a sizable chunk of Phillippe's upper arm. "Don't let him fool you," she said to Duncan. "He loves it!"

Leyza smiled, then she tipped her head toward the door. She mouthed the words, "We have to leave."

It was the last thing Duncan wanted to do. He could have sat here in this tiny room for the rest of his Immortal days. Here he'd found a golden peace that was far more satisfying than any he'd achieved through meditation or pushing his body to the extreme with a brutal workout. The song of life filled his heart along with their laughter and it called him into the light.

Leyza tugged on his arm. "Marie and Phillippe have work to do, and we're in the way," she whispered, as though she sensed his reluctance to leave.

He stood, then, thinking he ought to pay for breakfast, he slipped his hand into his pocket.

"Don't even think about it," Leyza whispered, once more picking up on his thoughts. "You'll make Phillippe angry." She smiled as she let a brief shudder shake her shoulders. "Not a wise thing to do unless you really enjoy pain."

Reluctantly, Duncan removed his hand from his pocket, and with much less reluctance, he slipped it into the hand Leyza held out to him. She laced her fingers in his, then gently towed him toward the door. She paused a moment before leaving to say good-bye, but Phillippe and Marie were already caught up in the business of tending to the morning's first customers. She shrugged, smiled, then led him back into the alley.

He wasn't sure whether it had gotten colder or whether it was merely the contrast, but without giving it much thought, he pulled Leyza closer to hold onto the warmth. Slipping his arm around her seemed like a natural progression, and she eased in next to him as though they'd been walking like this for years.

"It's going to be another lovely day," she said as they paused at the head of the alley.

Duncan glanced at the small queue that had formed at the bakery door, then over head. The rising sun had already tinted the cloudless sky a pale blue, and morning church bells pealed in counterpoint to the sounds of traffic as the city awakened. "Yes it is," he answered.

Leyza escaped from under his arm, but she held on to his hand. "I've got to go," she said with a smile of regret.

"I'll walk you," he said, tugging on her hand to pull her back into his embrace.

She resisted, then managed to slip her hand out of his grasp. "I'm a big girl," she said with a smile. "I'll be fine."

There was no point in arguing. He'd already lost. He could see it in her eyes. She blew him a kiss, then turned to walk away.

"Leyza," he called.

She turned.

"Sweet dreams," he said with a smile.

Walking backward, away from him, she laughed, then blew him another kiss. "You too," she shouted, flexing her fingers in a wave, then she turned away from him again.

Duncan shivered off a sudden chill as he watched her leave. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then turned to walk back to the barge.