Chapter 68

Paris

Derrick's return to their rooms as swiftly as he'd left caused little in the way of notice earlier this afternoon. Alisaunne still sat on the chair looking confused and Ellie had seemed focused on her with wide-eyed wonder. Derrick had swiftly picked up his sword, grateful it was in his hands once more, and had retreated to the grove feeling a little silly about being so protective of it. It was just a sword… but it was his. And now it was safe in his hands once more.

He'd spent several hours working out with it, swatting at bushes and beheading flowering plants… in case Ellie wondered why he'd returned for it. His injured arm seemed to scream at the effort he put into the two-handed strokes. But he, at least, felt better. Finally Ellie'd crept down the stairs, sitting on the fourth one from the bottom as if it were something she might have always done. She observed him quietly.

"She's asleep. Poor thing… I think she walked all night."

Derrick continued his routine… purposely ignoring her. After several minutes of continued silence… he stopped and gave an exasperated shout. Turning, he crossed to the steps and sat on third one from the bottom… his long legs still on the ground… and lay his head in her lap. "I don't like her here. You shouldn't have brought her."

"I thought you were lonely and wanted someone else to talk to especially when I'm not here." She ran her fingers through his shaggy damp air.

"Not her." he groused. Derrick wrapped his arms around Ellie's waist. "I want to leave here. I don't like it here."

Ellie laughed lightly. "So you keep saying. But I can't leave yet. Not yet." There was long pause… then she asked, "Do you remember Alisaunne?"

"She was there at Adam's other house years ago. You and Adam left with her and that boy. You were hurt when you came back. You were hurt because of her."

"She didn't hurt me, you know. I just thought you might have remembered her from before."

Derrick considered her words carefully. "I knew who she was the first time I saw her. I knew her name and that she was special. But I don't know her! And I don't trust her!"

Thoughtfully Ellie continued. "Why not?"

Derrick shrugged with a great sigh. "She doesn't feel right… it's like it's her… but it's not her."

Eleanor closed her eyes thoughtfully. Derrick's instincts had been very good in previous years… but lately… as the time evidently approached for his changing to immortality… he was consumed by doubts and fears, which seemed to color the way he regarded the people and immortals he met. She'd brought the girl here for safekeeping… to prevent the death on holy ground that she feared the girl was contemplating. She'd brought her here because she wanted to know her. But had she made an error in judgment? "Oh Methos," she thought sadly. "Where are you?" for a moment she thought she could here war cries and the screams of the dying… and then it faded. Wherever he was… it wasn't here… and it wasn't with her.

She was as alone in this place… as she had ever been. She leaned forward to place a motherly kiss on Derrick's head and sighed. This place had always been Darius' great secret… Was it here that the ancients she and Methos had first seen in their visions years ago had stood? Was it here that they had lived… and in the end killed all they cared about? Or was this a remnant of some ancient holy ground that had remained holy. Darius had never said why the Ancient One had remained here… but in taking his head and his quickening… Darius had seen a need for his continued existence in this place. As he had been the guardian of the spring during his long lifetime… was she to be the next one? Or was it to be one of these children? The boy who held a few of Darius' memories… or the child he'd helped to create… stolen… and then raised.

Eleanor had been tempted to open Darius' letter to Methos… but so far had not… as if fearing that the words contained there might make her lash out again. And she needed to be calm. If she was to reach Methos who was apparently lost somehow in his memories of a thousand years of barbarity and bloody conquest… she needed to be calm… and in control. The irony of their exchange of situations was not lost on her. For two hundred years… she had been the one all too often lost in dreams of carnage and murder. The love of Methos, Phillip, Darius… and two small orphaned children had pulled her out of it finally. Now… the shoe was on the other foot. She and these two children, each of them somehow tied both to Darius and to her, needed to find a way to rescue Methos… and bring him back to the present. But unless she discovered where the Watchers were keeping him Eleanor doubted that there was any way to really reach him.

She glanced upward and considered the immortal Alisaunne. She couldn't really think of her as her child… Eleanor had no memory of her other than their brief association eight years ago. Even knowing from the letter that she was this girl's mother did not seem real. Her children were Miriam and Joshua… and Derrick… the children she'd raised… the children she loved. Alisaunne was just an immortal with an odd aura about her.

Alisaunne's presence was slightly different from any Eleanor had ever known… There was a touch of something old in her… something that had once been akin to darkness… and if Derrick were to be believed… something evil. Yet Eleanor wanted to help this girl somehow. If she were indeed some harbinger of the end of the game… Eleanor wanted that end to be a positive one… one that did not involve all their deaths. Had that been Darius' hope? Had he hoped to shape Alisaunne somehow to be a force of good?

"I just wish I understood why he never told me," Eleanor whispered to the growing shadows. "I just wish… he'd trusted my judgment for once."

-----

Outside Berlin

Shots rang out as John and Grace hurried from the chateau back out to the van. The safe-house had been under attack for the past fifteen minutes.

Hatchell had insisted that they go. "We'll keep them busy here. You two must get to Paris."

"We can't leave you here to die," John had insisted.

"Listen to me. Get to Paris. Find Dawson. End this!"

In the end they had gone. John had driven the van at top speed out of the attached garage… and had outrun a car following them… but both he and Grace knew it was likely only a matter of time before they were picked up again.

"I'll need to dump this one." John's expression had hardened through some of this… as if he'd tapped into resources he'd long forgotten.

Grace watched him thoughtfully… but said little. When he pulled off into some woods and parked, she finally whispered. "It's still in there… isn't it… all the old ways."

John nodded sadly. "And everyday I promise myself I won't give in to it. Suddenly I'm faced with a situation that unless I do… you may die. And I wonder if I can stand by while that happens."

"I'm not helpless, John. I have a sword and I can fight if I need to. I've told you that."

Lacing his fingers with hers he pulled them to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "Shall we?" he smiled.

"Together," Grace replied.

The two immortals alit from the van and headed the edge of the small forest on foot. Overhead, they thought they could hear a circling chopper.

"Let's hope they can't see the van," John said as he looked up with worry.

"On the other hand… it they don't see it on the road… they'll know we're here," Grace countered.

Kirin nodded his head. "We need alternate transportation… and in a hurry."

They waited beneath the trees for the circling chopper to move on… over the wider expanse of trees on the far side of the road, then made their way toward the smoke of a small farmhouse, which bordered the stand of trees.

"Guten Tag!" John called to the man of the house and explained they needed to borrow a vehicle.

The man looked at him quizzically and then at the chopper in the distance. He motioned them inside. "Polizie?"

"Nein," John said, shaking his head and holding out the keys to the van hidden in the trees, and a handful of euros.

The man snorted and pulled out a set of keys for his old truck. He smiled as he dropped them into John's hand. John grinned and gave the man the keys to the van and the cash. "Danke," John said. Evidently this man had been watching entire scenario and some idea as to what was happening… if not the truth. He also had some idea that he could get something out of this situation. John didn't mind… as long as it got him the man's truck.

"Sehr gut!" the old man said grinning broadly as he held the keys up.

"Danke," added Grace for good measure.

The man's wife handed them some wrapped cold sandwiches and a large bottle of home brewed beer.

Checking the skies once more for movement, John pulled Grace quickly out to the old truck.

"This looks awfully iffy as far as reliable transportation goes," she said doubtfully.

"It'll get us out of the area… climb in."

They pulled out of the farmyard and turned back the way they had come… toward Berlin. When Grace looked at him curiously, John Kirin grinned. "They won't expect this. Trust me… I spent most of the last century remaining invisible to law enforcement. I still remember how to do this." He winked at her… and she knew he was fine.

-----

Paris

"Well?" Mischkov was not pleased.

"We apparently lost them about five miles from the chateau."

"Fools!" snapped the enforcer. "I'm surrounded by fools. Find them… unless you'd like me to retire your unit."

"Yes sir… I mean no sir… I mean…"

Mischkov ended the connection. He stared out the window at the broad lawns of Watcher Headquarters. How deceptive they were in their peaceful grace… how calm… how serene. As if he were the human embodiment of the lawn… Avril Mischkow breathed deeply and evenly… until he achieved serenity once more. He tapped the fingers of his right hand on his smoothly waxed desktop… and considered his next more.

The children were on their way. He could do nothing else on that front. The island in Greece was being watched… So far no one had seen anything. St. Julien Le Pauvre had a twenty-four hour presence. If any immortal showed there… he'd know about it. Dawson was being watched by his young protégée who would inform Mischkov of any immortal contacting the old man.

The loss of Kage and the Chandel woman was negligible. They would turn up. They could be acquired at a later date. Rawlins was curious about acquiring them… a matched pair… a recent one. Evidently he was curious as to how devoted to one another they might prove to be.

MacLeod and Amanda had yet to turn up… but they had her previous companion Cory Raines on ice on the medical level… along with the other two. One more… and they'd transfer them all to the new facility. If one looked at the big picture… they were doing well… very well. They'd have them all soon. After all… this game of the immortals had been going on for millennia… what were a few minor setbacks in the grand scheme of things.

He reached for his intercom, "Reneé… hold my calls. I'll be busy for the next half hour."

"Yessir."

Turning off the intercom Mischkov rose and carefully removed and folded his coat. Unbuttoning his shirt and unfastening the expensive cufflinks, he snapped the shirt before laying it on his coat… as if to freshen it. Mischkov opened a lower drawer, removing a battery operated fire starter and a knife. Sparking the starter several times he grimaced and passed the knife through the flame until he could sense that it was hot.

Then he began slicing shallow cuts in the skin along his arms… feeling sweet release in the pain… and focus. These could not be deep cuts… he was at work… but the heat of the knife compensated somewhat for the lack of deep cuts. At one point he sat down heavily in his leather chair and began to pant harshly. He wanted more than just this… but it would have to do for now… it would have to do.

Thirty minutes later… an impeccably dressed Avril Mischkov checked on messages, chatted companionably with his secretary, and descended to medical to check on his acquisitions.