Chapter 3

Toronto

Derrick screamed out in his nightmare. Thrusting his arms wildly about he attempted to fend off his attackers.

"Shh... Derrick... it's only a dream... only a dream... you're with me... you're safe." Eleanor wrapped her arms about the ten-year-old boy and rocked him gently as she had often done in the first few months she had known him. Her low voice whispered in his ear its gentle reassurance that all was well. Gradually Derrick's struggles ceased and he went limp... asleep once more. Eleanor kissed his damp forehead and ran her fingers through his short sandy hair. The boy did not respond... evidently once more deeply asleep.

This time Eleanor left the Maglite turned on next to him and pulled the edges of the blanket tent the boy had made closed about him. He still preferred the floor. The small immortal rose and took a deep breath. The nightmares had begun again after the latest set of circumstances.

The boy had been standing beside Joe Dawson when the Watcher had been shot. He had been splattered with some of Joe's blood. That scenario, on top of what he'd endured in the previous few days... what with the school shootings, the deaths of his foster parents and a friend, their funerals, then the last kidnapping attempt, this time by Daniel M'Benga, had evidently been too much for the boy to take in.

Since leaving Seacouver with Phillip to travel slowly by car to the east to make certain no Watcher was on their trail... Derrick's nightmares had begun again and this time... Eleanor feared that more recent events might finally unlock the source of them. And the immortal was not certain if either she or Derrick were ready to face whatever it was that was locked in the boy's mind.

She sat down on her bed and clasped her upraised knees to her and laid her head on them. She glanced over at Phillip regarding her solemnly from the other bed in the motel room.

"I don't know much about kids... but I gather this kind of thing is not normal?" her teacher said with just the smallest hint of sarcasm.

Eleanor shook her head soberly, her not quite shoulder-length dark hair hanging loosely about her, but she could not refrain from a slight chuckle at Phillip's attempt to lighten the situation. "No... kids have nightmares... but not usually every night."

Phillip sat up in the bed and leaned on one elbow to talk quietly. "You say they happened before?" He absently scratched at his short brown beard as he regarded her with an even expression. The twenty-five hundred-year-old Greek soldier had known Eleanor for over eleven hundred years. He had found her in the forests of Normandy shortly after she had left her first teacher and had taught and guided the young woman off and on since in the intervening years. She was the only student he had ever truly taken over the centuries... although he had taught many immortals a move or two if he had found them worthy. Eleanor had always intrigued him... in her own diminutive way... she had always reminded him of Danae... his own teacher. Until recently... he'd never known why that was.

"For the first few months after I found him four years ago... he had them occasionally... then they faded away. I didn't pursue them... after all, Phillip... he's like us... so whatever family he might have had... they weren't any more related to him than I was... and as the nightmares faded... I thought maybe it was all for the best. But his nightmares did give me the idea for that 'Witness Protection' scam I pulled on the authorities back in Seacouver. I got all the paperwork ready and laid the foundation in case I ever needed to use it. I'd actually forgotten about it until I was at the school and realized his foster parents had been killed." Eleanor shook her head sadly. "Now I'm starting to worry that what's happened has brought back those old memories... I wish Sean Burns were still alive. He could have helped Derrick... I know he could have. We are losing too many of the good ones."

From the makeshift tent... the two immortals could hear Derrick whimper slightly. Eleanor rose once more and lay down on the floor next to him... holding him gently. At once the boy's sounds ceased, as if he knew someone was watching over him.

Phillip lay back down on the bed... but he doubted he'd get any further sleep that night. This road trip was turning out to be anything but pleasant and relaxing. He found himself longing for the quiet serenity of his island home on Niebos. "Soon," he thought. "Soon we will go. But I have to be very careful. There must be absolutely nothing left to chance."

Methos had warned him to be extra careful... to not rush anything. He'd given him several sets of documents for the two immortals and the boy. "Do whatever you have to do... but keep them safe." Methos had told him. "Even rusty... you are still a better swordsman than most of us." The problem was, Phillip wasn't too certain of that. And then, of course, there was that damned sword.

Phillip could still sense the sword whispering to him to claim it and to use it protect Eleanor and Derrick. But even knowing it was lying to him Phillip wanted that edge... that extra bit of ancient magic and power that might just mean the difference in life and death. They'd brought it into the motel room... being unwilling to leave it unattended in the car outside.

Phillip was beginning to wonder if Methos and Eleanor were wrong and that it was the sword's influence that was adding to the boy's nightmares. And yet... the boy truly seemed to have no interest in the damn thing. Alone of the three of them... he did not seem to hear it call to him. Phillip had held it only that one time... almost two thousand years ago. But even then... it hadn't really been his. He had never touched it since... being willing to leave such matters in the hands of those more able to deal with it.

He rolled over and stared at the lights blinking on and off on the far side of the drawn curtains. What he really wanted was to go over to the bar across the street and throw back a couple of stiff ones. But that would have to wait. He rolled back over and faced the wall. The shadows of the lights blinking around the edges of the blackout drapes still flickered before his eyes. Finally he closed them and tried to sleep.

Eleanor could hear Phillip roll over and back. She was as worried about her teacher and friend as she was about Derrick. She didn't think the genial Greek was really cut out for this duty any more than she herself was. Too much of her wanted to throw in the towel and just skip out on this whole situation... leave Derrick to the gentle ministrations of mortal authorities. Let someone else raise him... guide him... help him. The problem was... she no longer felt she had that option. She rubbed at the palm of her left hand and lightly traced the pattern of water on it. For a moment she could once more see the standing stones of the vision she and Methos had shared. Nothing made sense, yet. It was just visions... pieces of the puzzle... like the pages of Darius' research.

She stroked the boy's sandy hair and kissed his cheek. She cared about this boy... possibly too much. She couldn't leave him to others... in many ways... she was his sister as he often called her. Or at least as much of a sister as any of them were able to have. And like any mortal big sister, she was determined that her little brother would live to grow up. He would be safe. He would be loved. He would be happy. And the shadows of the past would fade away into dreams no longer remembered.

When she was certain he slept deeply once more, Eleanor rose and crept back into her bed. She clasped the extra pillow against her thinking of Methos. She was surprised how much she missed him this time. Usually, when she'd leave... there was a looking forward to whenever the two of them would find each other again... but no regret that they were parted. This time was different. She absently felt her ring on her finger and wondered if by putting it back on... that she had re-opened her heart to a life she had long ago turned her back on. That and the ceremony they had begun... the one that would finally unlock the past, which was hidden in both of their minds... the past that they both feared but needed to face.

"Even when people are together... sometimes they are not really together," Methos had told her when they'd laid their plans for this separation. "And sometimes when people are parted... they are not really parted." Eleanor hugged the pillow closer and tried to smell him on his shirt she still wore. But the scent of him was already fading. Soon... the shirt would only smell of her... and it would mean nothing to her any longer.

At some point she must have slept. When she opened her eyes to the gray dawn peeking into the room, Derrick stood beside the bed... his eyes begging silently for her to hold him again. Eleanor moved the pillow out of the way and beckoned him into the bed. He curled up in her arms, his back to her, and seemed once more to sleep.

From the other bed... Phillip rose to shower. It was time for another day. They'd clean up... pack the car... eat breakfast at some fast food restaurant... and hit the road. Maybe today he'd sell this car if he saw the right used car lot... maybe he'd keep it another day or so. Phillip hated the modern world. He much preferred the days when he and other immortals could move a mile and become someone else entirely without anyone being the wiser. And sooner or later... they'd have to chance an airport.

Derrick lay wakeful on the bed with Eleanor. He'd almost remembered something last night. He was certain of it... something to do with... but once more the image faded and he had no words to describe it. All he knew for certain was what he had always known since the day that Eleanor had found him under that highway bridge four years ago. She was his sister and he belonged with her somehow. If he were ever to figure out just what that elusive memory was... he needed her to help him. He had her back again... and he would never let her go.