Shelter from the Storm Chapter 6

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.


Shelter from the Storm/part 6

There's a certain comfort in familiar routine.

Duncan rolled that thought around in his mind as he strolled through the night-hushed streets of Paris four weeks later. Even at 3 am, a few cars prowled the boulevards, their occupants heading home, or to an early morning job, or perhaps searching for an after hours club that still throbbed with life. A delivery truck or two rumbled past him, but at this hour Paris was as quiet as any major city can get. Just a barely audible thrum of unrest droned in the background - the heartbeat of a city asleep.

Duncan savored the quiet. His heart filled with peace and a burgeoning pleasure as he neared Pont St. Louis. No longer did he wander aimlessly through the night. Now his perambulations had a purpose, a destination. Meeting Leyza Berard on the bridge each night had become his familiar routine.

They would meet - each acting as though their meeting was a chance encounter. They would talk awhile about art or philosophy or music - but rarely about themselves - then they would stroll off, arm-in-arm, to the bakery for breakfast.

Duncan had found a comfortable routine for his days as well. After he left Leyza outside the bakery, he'd return to the barge, workout for a while, eat, tidy up a bit, then he'd read or maybe meditate to while away the morning hours.

To fill his afternoons, he'd fallen into the habit of dropping by Le Blues Bar to help Joe with his invoices. Even though both he and Joe knew the Watcher could manage to wade through them on his own, the task provided a focal point, a place where they could meet on safe ground. A place where they could reweave the frayed fabric of their friendship.

Duncan had begun adding bits and pieces of furniture to the bare barge as he added people to his barren life, and he began to feel connected once more. The glass walls that imprisoned him were still there, but now he could reach out and touch life through them. He could bring small portions of life inside.

The sudden whirring pulse of another Immortal jarred him out of his reverie. He looked up, spotted a familiar figure standing at the center of the bridge, then he quickened his pace and strode up to her.

Leyza turned to watch him approach. She smiled. "We really have to stop meeting like this," she said. "People will talk."

He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, then placed a tender kiss on her forehead. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, enjoying the soft touch of her skin beneath his finger. "Oh yeah," he whispered. "And what will they say?"

She laughed, and he let the sound caress him, then he tensed when she moved away. She allowed him to get only so close, then she always drifted off to a place where he couldn't follow. He suspected that despite her aura of bright cheer, she, too, lived behind glass walls. There were times when she let the mask drop, and he sensed a deep flow of sadness coursing beneath her sparkling clear surface. Before he could ask, before he could explore it further, though, she would set the mask back in place, then tell a joke or scamper off like a rabbit down one of her inane conversational paths.

"You know," she said, breaking into his thoughts. "I haven't the vaguest idea what they might say. What do people talk about when they talk?"

Like this, he thought with a sigh, then he slipped his arm around her and she let him pull her close again. How could he answer a question that had no answer? "I don't know," he said with a smile. "Does it matter?"

She leaned her head against his chest, and her shoulders lifted as she exhaled a small sigh. "No," she said softly. "I don't suppose it does."

She didn't have much to say tonight, and neither did he. But that was fine with him. As long as he could stand here next to her, holding her, feeling her breathe, feeling her warmth mingling with his own, he could be content. With Leyza at his side, he didn't feel quite so alone, quite so disconnected. He felt at peace.

There were, of course, times when he wanted more. When her laughter tugged at dormant desires. When her smile triggered a restless, throbbing pulse in his groin. When her eyes sparkled and he wondered how they would glow in the heat of passion. But tonight he was content just to hold her and follow his thoughts wherever they wandered.

They were green, her eyes - the color of polished jade. He'd noted that as he watched her chatter away in fluid French with Phillippe and Marie the night she'd first dragged him off to breakfast. He'd noted it every night since, as he'd noted the rich golden brown of her hair, and the way it curled around her shoulders when she didn't wear it bound in a braid. He'd memorized the way her lips curved when she smiled, and the bare hint of a dimple that slipped into her right cheek, and the lyrical chimes of her laughter.

He felt like he'd known her a lifetime ... several lifetimes, and yet he didn't know her at all. He still didn't know how old she was or where she had been born. When they talked, they spoke in abstracts, rarely touching on the details of their lives. His had too many dark secrets, and fear of revealing them kept him wary. Had she something to hide as well? Or was her reticence merely a natural trait? These were questions that he longed to ask, but he dared not.

Last night, though, she'd been in an expansive mood, and he'd learned more about her than he had in the previous weeks. When they arrived at the bakery, they had found Phillippe and Marie bustling about like hounds on the scent of a fox. In between taking trays filled with golden loaves from the oven, Marie took a deep breath and a moment to explain that they had gotten a large order from a new restaurant across town.

Leyza had wanted to leave them to their work, but Phillippe wouldn't hear of it. He shepherded them to the corner table and ordered them to sit. Marie set steaming mugs of coffee and plates of bread before them, and allowed no argument. They were to have their breakfast and that was the end of the discussion.

Wearing a bemused expression, Leyza watched Phillippe and Marie work together for a few moments. "They're so in love with each other, you can almost touch it," she said, smiling as she reached for a croissant.

She broke off one horn, then began slathering it with butter softened by the heat of the room. "Have you ever been married, Duncan?" she asked without glancing up from her task.

"No," he answered, watching her with a wary gaze - wondering where the conversation was headed.

She looked up. Her arched eyebrow and the twinkle in her eyes marked her astonishment at his admission. "Never?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Never," he answered. "You?"

She nodded. "Oh, yes ... let me see--"

She paused to lick the butter from her fingers and Duncan suppressed the urge to do it for her. He wondered how her fingertips would feel as he touched them with his tongue - how they would taste coated in warm butter. Instead he shifted in his chair, then moved his hand a bit closer to hers.

Muttering names in a voice too low for him to hear, she ticked them off on her fingers. "Five ... no, six times," she smiled. "I forgot about Alex - but he doesn't exactly count. And all of them were mortal, in case you were wondering."

"Did you tell any of them--" Remembering that they were not alone, Duncan hesitated.

He glanced over at Marie and Phillippe who were laughing and jostling each other in jest as they bustled about the other room. It was clear they enjoyed their work as much as they enjoyed each other. Duncan lowered his voice. "Did you tell them what you are?"

"Four of them, yes," Leyza answered with a nod. "Boltar, my first husband, didn't know because I didn't know." She popped the piece of croissant into her mouth, swallowed it, then she smiled - a broad bright smile that nudged Duncan's heartbeat up a notch.

"And like I said, Alex didn't count," she continued. "I was very lonely. He was devastatingly handsome and utterly charming. We ran off to Las Vegas two days after we met in 1962, got married in one of those tacky wedding chapels, then got divorced 8 months later when we realized we didn't even like each other."

She laughed softly, then gazed at Phillippe and Marie with a look of intense longing. "Did you ever love anyone that much," she asked, tilting her head in their direction.

Duncan glanced down at his hands as her question unleashed a deluge of memories. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Yes, once," he answered. Though he tried, he couldn't keep the faint quaver from cracking his voice.

Leyza reached out and placed her hand over his. "Tell me about her," she urged. "What was her name?"

"Tessa," he answered after taking another deep breath. "Her name was Tessa. "

He rubbed his other hand over his chin as he considered how much to tell her. How much he wanted to reveal. As though sensing his hesitation, Leyza curled her fingers around his hand. He looked up, then he smiled at her.

"I was running from another Immortal. He'd caught me without my sword, and I had to get away. I spotted a tour boat pulling out from the quay, so I jumped aboard. Tessa was the tour guide. She began talking about Notre Dame, but she got the completion date wrong, so I had to correct her." His smile slid into a grin. "She didn't appreciate my help."

"Sounds like love at first sight," she said, smiling back.

"Something like that," he replied, glancing back down at their joined hands. "Tessa was the first mortal, I'd ever trusted enough to tell--" He glanced up again to make sure Phillippe and Marie were too busy to listen. They were, but he hedged anyway. "Well ... you know."

Leyza nodded. "This was a long time ago?" she asked.

"No," he answered, unable to meet her gaze. Strong emotions tore at his heart, even now five years ... nearly six years later. "Not very long. She was shot a few years ago by a drugged out punk - killed for a few dollars and a car."

"Oh Duncan ... I'm sorry," she said, tightening her grip on his hand.

He took a deep breath to reign in his emotions, then he looked up at her. She had glanced off toward the far end of the room, but he could still see that she had tucked her lower lip between her teeth. Her shoulders lifted in a sigh, then she turned to look at him.

"His name was Peter," she said, softly. "The great love of my life - Peter James Berard - but everyone called him PJ."

She withdrew her hand from his, then used her index finger to pick up croissant flakes from her plate. After popping the finger in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, she curled her fingers into a fist, then propped her chin on it. As she gazed at Duncan, her eyes grew dreamy, and he knew she was seeing not him - but PJ Berard.

"I met him in New York City, in the spring of 1921. He was running from the police, and he jumped into my car as I was pulling away from the curb. I started to tell him, in no uncertain terms, to get out, but then he smiled at me. He had the most dazzling smile, I'd ever seen. When he said, 'What are you waiting for, sweetheart ... step on it,' I just floored the damn car - never gave it a second thought."

"You helped him escape from the police?" Duncan asked, smiling. He supposed he ought to feel some moral indignation that she'd been guilty of impeding justice, but the images that filled his head reminded him too much of his own meeting with Tessa. How could he do anything else but smile?

Leyza began poking at the crumbs again. "Federal Revenue Agents actually," she answered without glancing up.

"PJ made his first fortune smuggling booze into the States from Canada and the Caribbean. The Feds had staked out one of his customers - a speakeasy on 57th street - and he got caught making a delivery." She looked up from the plate, then smiled again. "Well, he didn't actually get caught ... except by me."

Grinning, she placed her hand next to Duncan's on the table. He saw her action as an invitation, so he slipped his hand over hers, then curled his fingers under her palm.

"We got married a year later and I convinced him to get out of the liquor business, but he didn't need much convincing. The mob had taken control and it was getting way too nasty and dangerous." She shook her head as she chuckled softly.

"PJ said the mobsters took all the fun out of the game. That's what it was to him - a game, a challenge, a puzzle to be solved. He played the stock market for the same reason. But unlike so many others, he was shrewd enough to know it couldn't last. He saw the end coming, and he sold everything off before the Crash of '29."

"Were you together very long?"

Leyza stared down at her plate, so Duncan couldn't see her eyes. "Not nearly long enough," she answered. "He was killed in 1936. It was dark and raining ... the road had treacherous curves. PJ was driving too fast as he usually did. I begged him to slow down, but he loved driving fast ... loved the thrill of it. The brakes failed on a sharp turn and the car went over a cliff. We were both killed ... but of course, you know how that story ends."

When she looked up at him, her eyes glistened. A single tear spilled over, then began to trickle down her cheek. Duncan reached out to brush it away, but she turned her head before he could. She swabbed the tear off her cheek with her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she said sniffling before she turned back to look at him. "I feel so silly. It's been over 60 years, but I still miss him like it happened yesterday."

Duncan lifted her hand to his lips, then pressed a kiss on her fingertips. "It's all right," he said. "I understand."

She slipped her hand out of his grasp to stroke his cheek. "I guess you do," she said. Taking a long deep breath, she looked away, again.

"I was so lost without him. I had to get as far away from the memories as I could, so I took off for Australia - but the memories followed me. I bummed around the South Pacific for awhile, hoping to shake them, but that didn't work, either. Nothing worked - I was living in a big void where nothing mattered."

Shaking her head as though she could shake off the ghosts, she turned to look at him, then she moved her hand to his again. Absently she stroked the his fingers with a light touch that sent warm flutters down his spine.

"In 1941, I went to Hong Kong to visit a very dear Immortal friend. She was always so wise and so very pragmatic. I figured if anyone could jolt me out of feeling sorry for myself, May-Ling could. But then the Japanese invaded Hong Kong and left me no time to think about it."

"May-Ling?" Duncan said. "May-Ling Shen?"

She looked up. "Yes. Why ... do you know her?"

"I did ... she was one of my teachers ... but she's d--

"Dead. I know," Leyza's fingers tightened on his hand. "And if I ever find the bastard who killed her ... he will be too."

"You're too late," he said. "I got to him first."

"Oh, Duncan, thank you." She smiled, then leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek. "May-Ling was the best friend I ever had, I was so angry when I found out she'd been killed. I swore I'd avenge her death, but I didn't even know who had taken her head."

"His name was Michael Christian, and he wasn't very good." Remembering their fight, Duncan shook his head. "I still don't understand how he beat her."

"I don't think he really did. He just caught her at the right time for him ... the wrong time for her. I think she was tired of living," Leyza said, softly, then she sighed and stared at her plate, once more.

"She called me the day before, and she sounded very depressed. So much had gone wrong, recently." Leyza looked up at him again, then she smiled.

"She'd been in love for the first time in decades ... really in love. His name was David Wu and they were planning to get married. She was so happy, she was even shopping for a wedding gown and picking out china patterns." Leyza paused to sigh again. The smile faded.

"But then she was challenged by a series of young Immortals ... out to make a name for themselves, I guess. She said they just kept coming at her like waves in a storm. She'd taken four heads in one month. And David saw the last one ... the beheading and the Quickening. It was too much all at once. He just couldn't cope with it. He broke off the engagement the day before she was killed."

"Had she told him she was one of us?"

"She had planned to. She was waiting for the right moment, but she waited too long."

Duncan looked away as he thought about Ann. "Been there," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"I guess we all have at least once, if we've lived long enough."

"I guess," Duncan agreed.

"Well, this conversation has gotten quite maudlin hasn't it," she said. "Let's talk about something else. Have you ever been deep sea diving?"

"No, I haven't," Duncan said, chuckling softly as he shook his head.

His answer didn't matter anyway - Leyza didn't even wait to hear it. She scampered off down another conversational rabbit hole like she always did whenever the subject got too personal. By now he knew it was useless to try and corral her once she'd chased off after a topic that struck her fancy, so he just sat back, basked in the glow of her enthusiastic chatter and listened to her extol the virtues of Australia's Great Barrier Reef and the clear waters of the Caribbean.