NOTE: Because this chapter is short... you will get another entry later today. Be on the lookout as many questions will be finally answered shortly. --elle

Chapter 90

Paris, the grove

Derrick had risen early and crept down the stairs to practice. For some time he'd been going through the motions with the sword. He stepped to the side, uppercut holding the hilt with both hands, pulled back and stabbed forward with a lunge. Then he pulled back and swung to his left, stepping into the turn as he stabbed downward. He pulled back once more, pivoted and swiveled the great sword in his right hand and then executed a series of strokes… up, down, left, left again, up, and finally right. This time he turned so that the great sword was in his left hand and he sliced to the left.

His dreams last night had been of battles he'd never fought. Those had been the first dreams he'd had since Ellie had been burned back in Scotland. The voices of Darius and the old ones were still silent… but the battles played before his eyes. He could see the opponents that all of them had faced at one time or another… he could recall the moves needed to counter each attack.

When he finally stopped his practice session, he leaned over the spring and splashed cold water into his face. He glanced up. The sun was moving ever higher in the sky and Ellie was still abed. She'd come back through the sewers last night from Joe's and had said nothing before closing her door. Derrick knew she was hurting and he had no idea how to ease her pain. She longed for Methos with every breath she took… and Derrick had no idea how to help her.

He lay the great sword against the stones of the spring and straightened… straining to hear if she was up. When she was up she used to sing and hum. She hadn't sung since Methos had left them in Scotland. Thoughtfully Derrick climbed the stairs two at a time and entered their quarters.

The main room was still empty and her door was still closed.

Derrick lay his ear on the door and listened. He heard nothing. He knocked. "Ellie… it's getting late." There was no answer. He knocked more loudly and called again, "Ellie?" Still nothing. Remembering that trying to wake her was how he'd been hurt recently… he glanced at the healing cut on his arm. He'd taken the bandages off earlier and wanted to scratch the flaking scab away… but had not done so… feeling that Ellie would want to see it first. He knocked again.

Finally he lifted the latch and cracked open the door. Through the crack he saw her bed. It was unmade… the bedclothes were thrown back… and it was empty. Curiously he entered. "Ellie?" he called again.

Then he saw her on the floor… lying in a patch of sunlight beating through the window. She was on her side and lay so still he feared she was dead. He crouched next to her. Slowly he stretched a hand forth to shake her. He paused before touching her… his hand trembling. "Ellie," he said again. She shifted… but did not wake.

Derrick closed his eyes… thankful. "She lives!" he thought… and felt relief. He could see both of her hands stretched out before her. Her fingers wriggled back and forth in patterns over and over. He'd seen both she and Methos move their fingers that way when they touched one another and thought no one saw. Over and over her fingers moved and a small whimper escaped from her.

Derrick swallowed nervously as he gently shook her… snatching his arm back fearfully… as if she would attack once more. But she seemed oblivious of his touch. He shook her again… more firmly. Still she lay unconscious… her fingers moving over and over. "Ellie," he said with desperation. "Ellie!" His voice rose in fear. She did not seem to hear him. He shook her more forcefully.

Ellie shifted and rolled on her back… still her fingers moved. Her eyes snapped open… but only the whites showed. Her mouth opened but no words or sounds issued forth.

Derrick felt her brow. It was cold… so very cold. He had to get her warmed up. He cradled her into his arms and staggered to his feet, suddenly surprised at how little she weighed… as if she were an empty flask filled only with light. He lay her on the bed and pulled the covers over her as he brushed her dark hair from her eyes.

Something tickled at the back of his mind. He'd seen her this way before… no not this way… but here… in this room… and she'd needed him… she'd needed help to survive.

Something clicked in his mind and he gasped. Derrick understood what had happened! He saw it clearly and he saw what needed to be done. He fell to the floor and scrambled away from her moaning as he did so. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. She was dying and he had to save her! Darius had saved her then! Could he do less? Yet how?

Beneath her bed he saw the knife she'd used on him the other day. It still lay on the floor where he'd kicked it. He reached forward and grasped it, holding it in his hands and turning it over and over. Ellie would die unless she had help! She needed an immortal! He wasn't immortal… but he could be.

A strangled cry escaped him as he tossed the knife away. Knowing what he knew… how could he chance it? Too often those such as himself who knew what they were… attempted this. Invariably they died and were never reborn. He shouldn't know! They'd tried to keep it from him! If he hadn't met them… if he hadn't been a part of their lives… he wouldn't know! He wouldn't have remembered! He'd be blissfully unaware in some other part of the world, as he should have been.

He scrambled across the floor and picked up the knife once more.

Where should he cut? What would be the swiftest… the most surprising? What cut would allow him to die and be swiftly reborn?

He held the point to his throat and pushed. He stopped. No… not the throat. That was too dangerous. He pulled it away. Derrick turned up his wrist and positioned the knife to slice it open. No… that was too slow. There would be no sudden shock of death in that method. Then how? He placed the knife over his heart. Then he stared morosely at Ellie's bed.

What if he didn't come back? What if it took too long? What if by some miracle she woke and she found him dead? Could he chance it? If he died permanently… who would help her? What if he was wrong? What if he wasn't meant to be an immortal?

Derrick sobbed. "You have to have an immortal help you! What should I do? Tell me what to do?" It wasn't Ellie he expected answers from… but from the silence within him. He drew his knees up and grabbed them. He wailed aloud and then lowered his head sobbing. "Tell me what to do! She can't die! I won't let her die!" But the voices remained silent. In his right hand… he still clutched the knife. Thoughtfully he raised it, positioned it… and closed his eyes. "I won't let her die."