Author: Mirrordance

Title: For Every Evil

Summary: Legolas is a policeman in 2004. His colleagues start to wonder why the 10-yr veteran doesn't age & more trouble ahead after he runs across the Fellowship & some friends in modern incarnations, resurrected along with a new world-threatening peril.

27: To Stay

Rome, Italy

Mid-2004

Legolas woke to the quiet, dimly-lit room, hazy not just with the strange early-morn hours but also because his eyes remained clouded in his weariness. But he was more alert, at least he liked to think, and it seemed his body was at last beginning to give the leeway his mind and heart have been desperately wanting. The job was not yet done, and his place therefore was planted on his feet, instead of flat on his back…

He surmised he must have fallen asleep somewhere between telling Haldir he died in a battle from long ago and just after the War of the Ring.

How long was that, he wondered, for his sleep-dulled senses could hardly tell up from down, much less how much time passed since.

He blinked in an attempt to clear his vision. The effort, although not particularly effective, was at least not futile, for the lines of the room became more distinct, and his other senses seemed to wake with them, such that he was finally made aware of the fellow who was roughly seated on the chair that stood next to his bed.

Seated, he reflected, was actually a bit of an exaggeration. The weary Boromir seemed… seemed… flopped on the chair, like a puppet with strings suddenly cut, or a rag doll, or… or… a big spoonful of jelly that fell to the floor. The bulk of the warrior seemed to overwhelm the chair, but his face was calm in sleep, and the sight of him made Legolas smile a bit.

The elf was thirsty, and his body felt heavy and unfamiliar. It irked him that he had to be stuck in here… stuck in this body, stuck in this room, stuck in this situation… He felt a hot flush of irritation and impatience to couple the illness that had brought him here in the first place, and then the room seemed to shrink before him. It was too confining, too small, too stuffy…

I have to get up, he decided, before he lost his mind. One absolutely must know one has a problem if the lavish trappings of Anatalia Craxi's guest room seemed small and unappealing.

He glanced at Brad, and was just so greatly unwilling to stir him from a much-deserved and restful sleep. And so with minimum fuss and as little rustling of the sheets as he could manage, he sat up and swung his long legs up over the other side of the bed, away from Brad.

The world was… wavering, he decided, putting a hand to his head and closing his eyes a long moment, just finding relief in every recovered breath. He sighed inwardly, and slowly rose to his feet. Done in this manner, the change was not so sudden, and he recovered more quickly, dealing only with a bit of discomfort and a persistent but tolerable leadenness to his limbs, rather than nausea.

He gathered the crisp blankets he just freed himself from and smoothed them a little, running his hands across the sheets. And then gingerly, elvish hands as cautious and deft as possible considering the weakness that still plagued their master, he put it over the sleeping warrior, who stirred as if to wake with the slight disturbance until he settled back into sleep.

Legolas smiled again. It is good that you are here, my friend.

The elf surveyed a nearby closet and commandeered a robe, gingerly removing the wrinkled, unbuttoned polo he's had on since his capture. The designer shirt was ruined, a slash on his sleeve from when he was shot and from when Adrian Aarons cut through the material to bandage the minor wound. He remembered watching in disoriented dismay as the doctor irreverently tossed the scraps aside…

Irritating, he thought, and now that he remembered, he must have been disoriented enough to have murmured it aloud too, because in his mind's eye, he could see ghosts of a smiling Aragorn borrowing the doctor's face as he worked.

He set the shirt aside, uselessly folding it though he was certain it was beyond repair. He supposed he simply did not want to defile the pretty room with a mess.

He wore the robe over bare back and loose slacks, and winced and ran a hand over his unkempt hair. There was no excuse for a faulty experience. But he supposed the dismay was not as great as the thirst for some water.

He walked to the door, contemplating why he felt so sneaky, why he felt the need for such quiet. He supposed it was purely be reflex; he despised having to hear that he shouldn't be on his feet just yet, et cetera, etc cetera. Things needed doing, he didn't want the luxury.

He could hear the quiet hum of activity downstairs, in the living room. The hacker's fingers over a keyboard, a pause a triumphant guffaw, the wizard's approving grunts, some scraping chairs as seats were switched all around so others could get a view of the screen, some shuffling… They were indeed, as Haldir told him, busy with the work.

Legolas took the service stairs down to the expansive kitchen, looking for tea. He was settling an intricate old pot over the range when Jimmy Goran stepped into the kitchen and jumped at the sight of him.

Legolas offered him a hesitant smile, reflecting that Gimli's bulk on a height that was just a bit! taller than his own made for a rather imposing sight indeed.

"You're awake," the hacker said flatly, and Legolas didn't quite understand why the 'dwarf' seemed so miffed about this until he noticed that the hacker seemed a bit agitated, and he was bearing his bag with him. He was also keeping a bit of a nervous glance at the back door.

Legolas eyes glistened with amusement, and Goran knew at once that he's been caught.

"You can't stop me," the hacker said quickly, "I'm pardoned. I can go wherever I want. And if you think otherwise, I can blow on you right now and you'll likely fall to the ground."

"I don't doubt it," Legolas said wryly.

"I can go," Goran said again, "I'm pardoned."

"Then why are you sneaking out, hm?" Legolas asked, enjoying the sight of a Gimli caught in a transparent lie. It was familiar, and endearing, and the reunion would have been ideal if not for the fact that now the 'dwarf' stood taller than him.

"Harding doesn't want me out of his sight until we get debriefed tomorrow morning," Goran replied, "He promised me a pardon, but his bosses will lock me up, I know it."

"Harding's an honorable man," Legolas assured him, "He'll stand by his word. I can guarantee it."

"Well I heard you're crazy," said Goran.

"From whom?" Legolas asked. In the other room filled with people who knew him, after all, it could have come from anybody.

"Brad," Goran replied, "And Harding. And the twins. Come to think of it, it seemed a bit of a given to everybody."
"I'm not crazy," Legolas said to him with a bit of a smile, leaning on the counter heavily as he waited for the boil. "Did they tell you that you belong here, with us?"

With me?

"Yes," Goran replied, "the old man, he sure did. He sure seemed pleased to see me too. It's kind of weird. He's crazier than you."

Legolas chuckled, nodding his head, "So it would seem. So it would seem." He looked at the man wearing his old friend's face wistfully. Goran was ready to spring from the room, spring away from all of them.

"I found your hobbits," Goran said, "You might want to take a look."

"A diversion, eh?" Legolas asked.

"Well I don't feel good about tossing an invalid out on his ass just to get out of here," Goran snapped, "And I don't think you'd willingly get out of my way."

"Invalid?" Legolas said flatly, frowning. Oh the blasted dwarf may be taller but he sure hasn't lost the knowledge of all the wrong buttons to press.

Goran simply shrugged, catching the irritated gleam in the detective's eyes easily.

"Stay with us," Legolas implored him.

"I don't know," said the hacker wryly, "I have a feeling what you have is contagious."

"Isn't it?" Legolas asked impishly, "You will not regret this, I promise you."

"I heard," Goran murmured, "You have a tendency for keeping your promises. I suppose since they said you're crazy, and I can see very well that you are, this information must be reliable too."

"It must be," Legolas said mock-gravely, and turned his head toward the back stairs, his elven senses hearing the stomping steps of Brad before Goran did.

The angry lab technician looked to the elf with murder in his eyes. "You."

"Me," Legolas said, smiling helplessly, shrugging at him.

"You're not supposed to be here," Brad seethed, "I thought I misplaced you or something. Adrian called and told me to look after you."

"Called?" Legolas asked, narrowing his eyes in thought, "Where from? Is he not here?"

Brad opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by the arrival of another seething newcomer, this time, Horace Harding.

"You--" he said of Goran, sputtering, realizing he almost lost his charge.

The hacker put his bag over the counter, resigned to staying. He glanced at Legolas wryly, before tossing Harding a mischievous look and shrugging at him. "Me."

Elrohir came up behind Harding and glared at Legolas disapprovingly.

"You shouldn't be on your feet," he told the Mirkwood elf.

"I wanted some tea," Legolas replied a bit defiantly, hiding his embarrassment over the fuss.

"You're not well just yet," Elrohir retorted, "Aren't I right, Brad?"

"You found the hobbits?" Legolas asked, eager to change the subject.

"Yes but we can't contact any of them," Elrohir said, "Their cellphones are ringing but we keep getting messages. The address is U.K. though and when we traced the cellphones, we ended up with the same places—" he closed his eyes a moment in irritation and realization, "Legolas, you're trying to distract me."

The Mirkwood elf smiled a bit, did not bother to deny it.

"We've arranged our flight to England," Elrohir said a bit hesitantly, knowing his old friend would certainly want to go along.

"Is that where Estel is?" Legolas inquired.

"He's… he went back to Imladris," Elrohir answered, watching Legolas' face, "He wanted to go fetch Aragorn, eh?"

Legolas stared at the Rivendell elf a long moment, before the sound of the whistling kettle caught his attention and he turned away from Elrohir to work on the tea instead.

"I may have had something to do with that," he said quietly, pretending to be occupied with the tea.

"He made up his own mind," Elrohir said flippantly, "Always has."

"Just so," Legolas breathed, turning toward Elrohir once again, "Well? When are we leaving?"

"I was afraid you'd ask that," Elrohir winced, "We're going in an hour. You're staying here to get better."

"You know I won't let that happen," Legolas told him stonily.

Elrohir favored him with a long, measuring glance. Harding, Goran and Brad watched with uncertainty. In a flash of movement, the Rivendell elf made to strike at Legolas, hand taught with tension in a jab intended to stop a hair away from his friend's neck. The Mirkwood prince sidestepped it neatly, but he moved quicker than his body preferred and he wavered where he dodged. Elrohir steadied him with a grip to his arm, and Legolas favored him with a very royal glare.

'Stay that princely temper,' Elrohir said to him in their language, and in his serious eyes Legolas found no triumph at all, only grim determination. 'We can both admit my point has been successfully made whether or not you wish it. Legolas… you've stood in a distant shore long ago, and let people go where they must and do what they ought. You can do so again.'

Legolas' eyes softened. Ah, yes. He could not forget Parth Galen, one of those great moments in his life when he learned that sometimes, one needed to step away, that there was considerable strength and courage in letting go rather than holding on. He stared at Elrohir a long moment, before his gaze strayed to the quiet and expectant-looking Brad.

"I will willingly stay," said the elf, "If he and Harding stay with me."

Elrohir nodded his head slowly in understanding.

"Oh no," Brad said, laughing mirthlessly, "No. No. You're not doing this to me again. I don't have to stay if I don't want to, Greene."

"We're trying to keep you alive," Legolas pointed out.

"You're choking me to death," Brad retorted.

"I don't have a problem with staying," said Harding, "I have to attend a debriefing tomorrow morning anyway, the nearest Interpol outpost to me. Goran's staying too."

"I am?" asked the hacker.

"You know you are," Harding told him darkly.

"I'm not a damned fugitive, you pompous ass," Goran exclaimed, "I thought you said I was pardoned?"

"You are pardoned," said Harding, "But until I make my debriefing with you and my superiors tomorrow, I'm responsible for your safety and your good behavior."

"But they might lock me up," Goran pointed out.

"So you are going to try and run away," Harding said coolly.

"I didn't say that," Goran said, "I just don't want to go see your prissy bosses tomorrow."

"You're leaving me with them," Brad said flatly as he released an exasperated breath and looked at Harding and Goran with great and profound misery. Not only was he to be left out of an adventure. Not only was he agitating over the unknowns his brother and newfound weird friends were facing. Not only was he a single man in beautiful Europe who doesn't have the time for a vacation and a short-lived affair. He was stuck here with these two.

"Yes," Elrohir said with an easy laugh, "Yes, we are."

"Kind of you," Brad sneered.

"So," Elrohir said, turning to Legolas, "You have what you want. Do I need to ask for your word that you would stay here, recover, not get into trouble, all that?"

"You need not ask for my word," Legolas told him evenly, "I will hold true to our bargain. You will not find me rushing to the U.K. after you."

Unless I find the need, he left unsaid. He needn't make them worry about a mere possibility after all…

"Good," said Elrohir wryly, trying to gauge the truth of the statement and all at once unwilling to question the other, especially when it came to speaking of such serious things as their honor.

"I won't be giving anybody my word," Brad said stubbornly, "If I want to get out of here, I'll slip something in Greene's damned tea."
"Yes, well," said Legolas wryly, "Go look for a candlestick."

"You're all acting like children," Elrohir said as he looked at the four men nervously. He, Gandalf, Eowyn, Faramir, Emmett, Anatalia, Elladan and Adrian were headed to England and leaving Legolas, Brad, Goran and Harding together. He sighed. It sounded like a recipe for disaster. He was suddenly very… uncertain.

The Mirkwood elf was looking uncharacteristically slumped on the intricate hardwood chair he pulled before the desk as he looked through the files of the four 'hobbits' Goran successfully found for them. The others left hours ago and he, Goran, Harding and Brad were therefore left with the company of each other in the living room.

"You're supposed to be resting," Brad said to the elf with a wince. Legolas glanced up at him for a moment, his drawn face serious, before looking through the files again.

"I can use a nap," the hacker said, yawning and stretching his arms over his head, "I'll go find a room upstairs."

Harding glanced at the hacker coolly, lifting his face up from the broadsheet he was leisurely reading, long legs stretched out before him on the sofa.

"You're not going to get out of my sight," Harding guaranteed Goran, "You want a nap, you're napping here, on the sofa, across from me, where you can't go anywhere I can't see."

"I'm not going anywhere," Goran retorted, "I'm tired, and even if I did want to go somewhere else, it's no business of yours. I'm pardoned!"

"Nevertheless," Harding said, lifting the broadsheet over his face again as he turned his attention back to the news, "You're staying on that couch."

"Well I lost my taste for a nap," Goran snapped, "You got my blood boiling. I'm getting tea. You don't want me out of your sight, you'd damned better follow 'cos I'm not sticking around here."

The hacker rose to his feet and stalked for the kitchen. Harding frowned after him, then rose to his own feet and did as the hacker dared him to do.

Brad watched them leave miserably. "I'm so in the wrong place."

Legolas glanced up at him and smiled a little. "I beg to differ." He pulled away from the desk a moment, looked at Brad more closely. "You've spoken with Adrian since he left here?"

"Yes," Brad replied, "He was talking funny. Like my brother, that morning after he woke up and lost his mind."

"He called you Boromir," Legolas guessed.

"He did," Brad winced, "And like wacko Fred, he's also very happy that I'm alive. You guys scare me."

"You should be scared," Legolas said wistfully, "But you are safe now. You're here. Away from… everything."

Brad stared at him a long moment, weighing his words, weighing his desire to know all the things he's been wondering about. "The last time we were all in a situation like this, I died, didn't I?"

"Yes," Legolas replied, "I… I watched you. I watched Aragorn say goodbye. I was there."

"And the last time we were all in a situation like this," said Brad tentatively, "No one else died, right? And we won too."

"Haldir," Legolas said quietly, "Harding died too. But yes, we ultimately won."

"What if me being here," Brad asked, "What if it changes things? I don't mind dying, we're all headed that way. I mean not you," he paused, closed his eyes in confusion, attempted to gather his thoughts, "But you know what I mean. If we win, I don't mind. If I have to die for us to win, I don't mind."

"No one has to die," Legolas told him resolutely, "I look upon that day with constant regret. If I moved faster, if I did not tarry as long here or there, if I took this turn, this step instead of that… The world opens up to infinity, and I lose the ground beneath my feet. So many questions, so many possibilities, so many regrets and yet no second chances. Or so I thought. Now you are here, and I can at last… try for another way. Maybe we can all live, and we can all win, eh?"

Brad wrung his wrists nervously, still uncertain. But he quieted his questions for now, and tossed a nod at the computer screen. "So we're looking for them."

"Yes," Legolas replied, "Particularly, Finn Baggins. But I suspect if we find one, we'll find them all."

"Cool," Brad said, "Two birds with one stone. Or four birds, whatever."
"But it makes it convenient for Wormtongue too," Legolas said with a wince, "And his cursed mercenaries. Remember, we discovered earlier that they have headquarters in the U.K. too. And we cannot contact the hobbits, for some reason. No answer on their mobiles, though the phones are stationary in their respective homes. This scares me. We have to be open to the possibility that we've been beaten to the finish line."

"Well it ain't over 'til it's over," Brad said, "We got you back, didn't we? And besides… I don't know. I'm feeling good about this. Adrian-- Aragorn, whatever-- he's got to have something up his sleeve."

"Yes," Legolas smiled in remembrance, "He always has, after all. You know I've always said that Estel was lucky he lived in our older times and not now because, well, he'd have likely been institutionalized if you know what I mean. But I suppose he's back, and we shall see how these two wild worlds meet." Legolas' smile faded a little, his sick eyes dulled further as worry crept into them once again. "He truly sounded different?"

"Yes," Brad replied, "Doesn't that make you happy? That he's back?"

"I…" Legolas frowned, "I'm not sure. I hate the thought that I may have forced him into it. Maybe he's irked at me. He's not called."

"That's because you're supposed to be out like a light," Brad pointed out.

"Well anyway," Legolas sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes, "Aragorn's was a sadder life, you see. Perhaps some things ought be forgotten after all."

"Like my life?" Brad asked, "You never speak of it unless I inquire and no one's wanting me/Boromir/whatever back, aside from the fact that I'm a living, breathing body."

"You're too perceptive," Legolas murmured.

"You're trying to distract me," Brad said wryly.

"You've made mistakes, let's leave it at that," Legolas said, "But these were things you've undoubtedly made up for in a heroic magnitude, in ways that do not question your honor, or diminish your greatness. I do not speak of them because you wouldn't understand, unless you fully remember. Boromir was a good man, a great friend. He gave his life to protect those he loved. No greater feat could be spoken of." Legolas watched him carefully. "Do you wish to remember?"

Brad thought about it for a long moment. "I'm not sure. Harding doesn't seem to give a rat's ass. Or Emmett. I guess some guys can live with just what they are. I'm intrigued, though. I'm not sure. If it comes back, you know, that's all right. But my future's mine. That's cool too."

"A fine outlook," Legolas said with approval, "You win all around."

"Now we just have to make sure everyone else does so too," said Brad, turning his attention to the laptop screen, "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Something someone may have missed," Legolas replied, running a hand over his tired eyes again. His head was pounding. "I doubt it though. I suppose I'm deathly nervous. I cannot stand to do nothing."

"You should rest," Brad advised, "You don't look so hot."
It made Legolas chuckle. "I don't?"

"You know what I mean," Brad retorted, "Besides, I think you're just looking for something they missed so you can fly on over there after them in good conscience, without breaking that honor-code blah blah you gave to Elrohir. I think rest and recovery was part of the bargain too though, wasn't it?"

"He didn't ask for my word," Legolas said impishly, "That's his fault."
"So you're a wise-ass," Brad said wryly.

"I like to think so," said the elf.

"Adrian told me to look after you," Brad said, "I gave him my word. I think putting something in your drink is part of the duty."

"I won't take anything from your hands," Legolas said with a surprised laugh.

"I'll find other means," Brad said.

"I'm sure," Legolas chuckled wearily.

The exchange was cut off by a ringing cellphone. Legolas recognized the sound as his own, and instinctively felt at his pockets. He frowned in thought, wondering where he left his mobile until Harding appeared from the kitchens and tossed the ringing phone to him.

The Mirkwood elf caught it cleanly, and blanched just a little at the quick sight of Rafe Montes' name on the register.

"Hey Rafe," he said.

"Greene!" came the exclamation of a greeting, "Oh thank God, we all thought you were dead! We saw your capture on the news, what the hell do you have to do with the labor unions in Rome? My wife saw you on CNN and she was going crazy, and word got out to the press, the feds got wind of an original copy without your face blurred and everyone's going crazy here and—Sir! Ow!" came the fading cry, for a few shuffles later and it seemed as if someone forcibly wrested the cell phone from his partner.

"Greene," barked his precinct Captain, and Legolas groaned inwardly. Oh, he can feel that sting even from countries away…

"Sir," Legolas gulped, unaccustomed to being so flustered.

"You're alive?" the Captain asked.

"Yes sir," Legolas replied.

"Good," the Captain said darkly, "I'll kill you myself. Why didn't you tell me you were working for Interpol?"

Legolas pressed a hand to his throbbing head. Labor Unions. Him, on CNN. The feds. How long has he been out of sorts?!

"Sir," Legolas said tentatively, "the connection's a bit bad, what was that last part?"

"I'm going to kill you!" the Captain barked, "Get your ass back here, I'm going to debrief you to half your life."

"Sir?" Legolas asked, pulling the phone away from his ear, "You're breaking up, I'll call you back. Later. Tomorrow. I'm fine. I'm sorry." He ended the call and looked at his companions miserably.

"They're all talking about me and a Labor Union," Legolas said with exasperation, "What in the world did I miss?"

TO BE CONTINUED…

Long chapter, eh? :) I'm finding it's actually one of my favorites for some reason :)

So just wanted to say a big THANK YOU for all those who read and all who review. Thank you so so much for your valuable time, you really make me want to be better, and faster. I'm really really trying my best so thank you for the fire :)

I'm presently working on chapter 30 and, I know many will be pleased that I'm working on having hobbits there :) so lots of craziness abound :)

Look out for chapter 28, which is when Aragorn and Legolas talk for the first time in ages, and the true impact of Harding and Brad knowing what their past was will be revealed. Keep the reviews coming if you can and 'til then!!! :)