Chapter 45

Geneva

They'd reached Geneva in the early morning hours, having driven straight through without a stop. Derrick's cut arm still throbbed, but he'd refused any further pain medication other than some over-the-counter pills Ellie had purchased for him. The anti-biotics she still insisted he take.

"I don't want to take any more chances on an infection!" she'd said sternly… so he'd complied, but they made him feel nauseous.

Elllie had spent most of the drive quietly in the passenger seat… her eyes closed… her face growing ever paler. Derrick had never seen it so pale. It was as if her immortal essence was being drained away by her continual attempts to locate Methos. Absently she'd rub her head… and he was aware she seemed to be in pain… as if whatever effort his sister was putting forth was pushing her to dip into reserves of strength that for some reason were not being replenished. Derrick began to worry that the ultra-swift healing she'd experienced after the fire… might actually be causing this backlash and draining of her abilities. If so… Derrick wondered if he were to blame somehow.

Now, as the postal center opened, Ellie looked across at him and gave him a weak smile. "You will wait in the car… doors locked until I return. Do you understand?"

Derrick nodded and watched as she pulled on the red wig, adjusted it and the dark glasses before she left… crossing the street and climbing the wide stairs in the morning sunshine. He slumped down in the driver's seat… and waited. Absently he made his right hand into a loose fist… grimaced… and opened it back up.

At a tap on the window… Derrick looked up into the eyes of a young man whose blonde curls peaked out from his ballcap. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes. Sitting up, Derrick rubbed his eyes and lowered the window a crack, mindful of Ellie's instructions.

"My name's Keith," the young man said. "Will your friend be back in a moment?"

Derrick stared at him and then at the building. "I… guess so… Yeah!" What should he say? What was going on?

Keith turned his back to the window and leaned against the car. "There's been big doings here the past few days. I just want to warn her to be careful." His eyes scanned over the surroundings and the faces of the pedestrians. Derrick could tell the young man was clearly nervous.

Derrick stared at the post office and worried.

-----

Eleanor signed for her mail and for Methos'. She had the identity papers and the code phrases. From the amount they brought her… not a huge amount… but definitely several years worth… her heart sank. He'd not been here. Methos had never made it to Geneva. She'd dared to hope he had… and had left her a clue.

She accepted the pile of mail with a smile and crossed to a trash receptacle. Swiftly she pulled out anything that was obviously trash and tossed it. That left four envelopes in Methos' stack and two in hers.

One of Methos' was from Phillip and by the postmark… she knew it must contain both the letters she sought. The other three were older… to other names… from people she did not know.

Her two were another matter. They were from her granddaughter… at least that's how she always thought of Miriam's daughter, Esther. She opened them. The first one, dated nearly two years ago, spoke of Miriam's illness and death… an old woman surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She'd died peacefully and had wanted news of her passing sent to her "friend Marie". Eleanor smiled. Miriam had come to know and understand as she'd grown up, that Marie would not age or die… and that was why she must leave. But she'd stayed in touch, sending letters and updates to the box over the years. The second letter was just a brief note indicating that Esther had found some things among her mother's effects that she'd wanted her to have. Eleanor turned the envelope over in her hands curiously, wondering what Miriam could possibly have wanted her to have. In Miriam's spidery handwriting were the words "For Marie". Eleanor pulled three old black and white photos out and nearly cried.

Methos had taken them… he'd been in Israel posing as a photographer using his Noah Edwards identity when he'd happened by the settlement. He'd taken many pictures in the five months he'd been there… before he'd been killed in an outbreak of violence… and these three were among four he'd given Eleanor.

One was a close-up of Joshua, one of Miriam, and one of both of them. The fourth she had sent to Darius long ago and assumed that he'd burned it. That one had been of her and the children. She seldom allowed her photo to be taken… usually finding a way out of it… but this time she'd wanted to pose. She'd wanted Darius to see that they were all fine… that they'd made it safely to Palestine at last… now Israel… and that life was good… they were happy… and that she was banishing her ghosts.

Eleanor crushed the letters and photos to her chest and wept… She missed them all so much… and Methos most of all… Where was he? Aware suddenly that people were looking at her, she wiped her eyes beneath her dark glasses, gathered the mail and headed out of the facility. She had descended the steps when she felt the other and saw the young man lounging against the car. Immediately on guard she crossed the street and stood next to him.

"This is pretty public."

"Not here for your head… just felt you when you went in… Wanted to warn you… there's people about who must know about us."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes and grasped his arm. "What do you mean?"

"This really isn't the place to discuss what I saw," he said.

"Get in," Eleanor said darkly, motioning to Derrick to unlock the doors. When he did so… she climbed into the backseat after the other immortal and rammed a knife against his ribs. "Don't try anything," she warned him as he nodded his agreement. "Drive!" she told Derrick.

"Which way?"

"Back the way we came for the moment," she said and he drove off.

"Now what do you know and how do you know it?"

"My name's Keith Boyer. I met an immortal at a hostel near here about a week ago. We both decided to find other accommodations. I was a few blocks from here when I saw a quickening. I was curious as I wondered if it was him. It was. He was the victor… Then it got weird."

Eleanor withdrew the knife a bit. Thoughtfully she encouraged him to continue.

"Before the lightning died away… several vans filled with men showed up. They shot him several times before he recovered, then cleared away both bodies and his car and left. I didn't follow."

"Why warn us?" Eleanor's mind was racing… Who besides Methos might have been here? If it was him… but she had felt a quickening that night… and the darkness that had swiftly followed…

"I hid out in a hotel room near here, curious as to what was going on. I set up my computer… and did some research. I found out there had been several abductions over the past few years following quickenings. Someone is watching us… and killing the victors… or at least immobilizing them."

Eleanor leaned back in the seat and stared ahead. "He's not dead."

"The one I saw… he was a friend of yours?"

"Describe him to me."

"Dark-haired, thin, a bit surly, didn't seem to want to talk. I got the feeling he didn't appreciate my even noticing him."

"English accent?"

Keith scratched his head. "Sorta… it kinda wandered a bit."

Eleanor grinned and nodded. "It does that sometimes. So why tell us?"

Keith shrugged. "I don't like being followed. I don't want to have to worry if I meet someone and take a head… that people will take me. I was looking for some help." He glanced at Derrick curiously. "He does know what you are doesn't he?"

Eleanor chuckled, "He knows. So… you want to travel with us do you?"

Keith shrugged. "For a while."

"What makes you think I won't kill you?"

Keith sobered. "Those others? The mortals hunting us?"

Eleanor nodded. "Then perhaps I won't kill you… at least… not today." She sat back laughing lightly. Keith though it sounded a bit like tinkling bells.

"Why not today?" Keith asked.

Eleanor smiled at the memory, "Because it's Tuesday… my teacher once told me not to take heads on Tuesday."

"But it's not Tuesday," said Keith shaking his head, clearly confused.

"Oh… somewhere in the world… it must be Tuesday," Eleanor laughed as she closed her eyes… and for a moment… could almost feel Methos' presence… and his laughter joining her own.

-----

Paris

After twelve hours of Byron Delano not moving from his perch on that rooftop… Melanie Pryor decided to take the chance and look up the one contact in Paris she knew of. Surely he'd have some suggestions.

A bit more confidently than she truly felt… Melanie sauntered into Le Blues Bar and looked around, noticing the band practicing on the small stage and three groupies sitting at a table in front of them gushing a bit. The bearded man behind the bar gave her an odd look, then waved her over.

"Hi… and welcome. It's a bit early in the day… but can I help you?" He grinned and Melanie immediately felt at ease.

"I'm looking for Joe Dawson,"

"You found him. That's me!" He leaned on the bar. "Now why's a pretty young thing like you looking for me in the city of love?"

Melanie laughed and then looked around and leaned on the bar. "I'm a Watcher… Melanie Pryor… We spoke on the phone a number of years ago…" She offered her hand to his and shook it.

"Cassandra's Watcher… I remember!" Joe motioned for her to take a seat. "Coffee… or something stronger?"

"Actually… do you have any tea?" Melanie took a seat on one of the barstools. When she saw Dawson give her a hesitant look, she smiled. "Coffee's fine."

After pouring her a cup he said gently, "What can I do you for?"

Melanie sputtered into her cup. "It's been a while since I heard that line."

"Oh? Was it a line?" Beneath his white hair… his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Joe laughed a bit then leaned on the bar again. "So what brings a Watcher to my bar these days."

"I'm a bit out of my territory. My French is very basic and I don't have my files with me as this trip was a surprise… and I thought he'd go straight back but…"

"Whoa… whoa…" Joe laughed holding up his hands. "Now start at the beginning. Who's your assignment."

"Byron Delano."

"He mainly stays in England and Ireland. I don't think he's been on the continent since World War II… and then only because he was in an English unit."

Melanie nodded. "I transferred over here… but I didn't have a good background in foreign languages so they assigned me to Delano because he also liked to stay where only English was spoken."

"And he pulled a fast one and came over here." Joe shrugged. "Just follow him until he goes back, hon. He won't stay long."

"That's what I thought but it's been a week. He doesn't stay anywhere… he just keeps moving… I've been on the move after him for a week… not wanting to lose him… and I'm tired, and hungry and dirty, and… out of cash." There… she'd said it all.

Joe nodded. "Why didn't you call the hotline? They'd have helped."

"I didn't have my files with me with the numbers. This was all just so sudden on his part. He was headed north on business… a regular trip… then he suddenly turned and drove south into Paris. He spent the first few days running all over the city as if looking for someone… then he ran into a pair of immortals… lost the fight… but she didn't kill him. Well… not permanently. Now he's sitting atop a building near the Rue Monge and hasn't moved in hours.

At the words Rue Monge, Dawson's gaze narrowed. "A pair of immortals… did you get a description… see their Watcher?"

"That's just it. I don't think they had a Watcher. The young man was tall, nice looking, the woman was very short… dark hair… but I didn't really get a good look at either of them. I thought I should check in with someone since he had an interaction with another immortal. That's one of the directives they want us to report on these days."

"Yeah… " Dawson nodded. "I… uh… may know who they were… Their Watcher might be in trouble if you didn't see him… I can uh… take care of this."

"Well names would be nice… for Delano's Chronicle. That's mainly what I wanted to know. That and get some funds and get some back-up or something. I really don't know this city or the language or…"

"I can take care of all that… Melanie. You did right coming here… but why did you seek me out?"

"After we talked on the phone years ago… I looked you up on the database… Today, I remembered that you had owned a bar here in Paris. I didn't know if you still did… but it was close to where I was… so here I am and I am running on again. I am so sorry. I feel like I haven't had anyone to talk to in days!"

Joe laughed. "Do you breathe?"

Melanie blushed as she laughed. "I'm talking way too much."

Joe shook his head. "It's refreshing. So many of the people I meet these days say almost nothing… as if afraid their words will come back to haunt them. You remind me of a simpler time. Listen… I got a couch in my office. You can bed down there… use the facilities… I've got food here. I can check out your boy and keep an eye on him for you… How's that?"

Melanie smiled. "You have no idea how tired I am. I don't think even caffeine will keep me up much longer."

"Let me show you back there. Now where exactly was Delano?"