Authors' Note: Hey everyone! This chapter's up a little earlier than we expected, because Meg wanted to post before she left for the Canada Games. So you can blame her for the update. *grins* At any rate, this chapter's mostly description, but those who have a love for Paris should enjoy it. The Nightrunners firmly believe that Paris is the most romantic city on Earth, save Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland. Look for it on a map! It's where the *ferry* docks! *please note extreme sarcasm*. Snuzzle-hugz to any reviewer who can pick out the Les Miserables references (book, not musical; gotta love Français 3204). Enjoy!



The Paris Underground





"Adam, where the hell are we?"



"Oh, can't you just trust me for once? I know where I'm going. I used to live here, you know."



Adam didn't quite catch Sam's muttered comment. It was something along the lines of "Bloody ranger..."



Adam ground his teeth and tried to push the grey fog out of his brain. For a guy who'd spent much of the past week unconscious, he was feeling remarkably sleep-deprived.



After having left the SUV and the comatose Legolas in a horrendously expensive parking garage in the heart of the Underground, the ex-Fellowship hit the pedways of Paris. Arwen, under slight protest, had stayed with Legolas.



"Though I don't know what you expect me to do." she'd said. "If he dies, there's nothing I can do."



Adam had shrugged. "And if he wakes up, you want him to be alone and freezing in a SUV in the middle of a parking garage?"



Arwen had conceded then, had locked the doors and crawled in the backseat with the unconscious elf, curling her body around his to share warmth. He was still lying motionless, blue eyes open and staring into nothingness. Every so often, she'd lay her head against his slowly beating heart, just to reassure herself that he was still alive. Sitting in a cold car with a dying friend in an unfamiliar city really isn't a nice way to spend an afternoon.



Adam led Gabe, Felix, Sam, Peter and Mark across a crowded pedestrian walkway. Advertisements crowded the railings and the walls, which were relatively clean of dirt and graffiti. Parisians swarmed around them, taking no notice in their hurry. This pedway was actually a series of interconnected catwalks over eight lanes of speeding cars. The roar of the traffic was deafening. High overhead, vents slanted towards the surface, releasing the accumulated pollution and letting in fresh air.



"Christ, it's cold." Pippin had the hood of his sweatshirt flipped over his head, and had jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "People actually *like* this city?"



One passing woman gave him an evil-eyed glare. Felix poked him in the ribs. "Keep your opinions to yourself, dumbass. Besides, I'm sure this isn't one of the nicer parts." He turned beseechingly to Adam. "Is it?"



Adam smiled. "This is Rue Saint-Denis, one of the major transit paths. Take a good look, I ruined my friend's Jag down there when I was seventeen years old. But anyway, like I was saying, the Underground is like a labyrinth, with tunnels running everywhere. You've got the Metro, that's the subway, elevators, roads, and pedways running all over the place."



Gabe cut in. "The surface is inhospitable, so everyone lives underground. It's like a big rabbit-warren."



"Or Moria." said Sam. He shivered as they passed under an air vent, a blast of cold air catching him solidly down the back. "So what happened up on the surface? I mean, we heard rumours during the war, but that was more than ten years ago. We were only kids."



Adam tugged at the collar of his coat against the chill. "About...fourteen years ago, a nuclear missile hit Versailles. The French government barely had any warning, but they rallied all the witches and wizards and mages, and they managed to throw up a massive shielding spell around the impact point. It contained most of the radiation, thank god, but a lot of dust and debris got thrown up into the atmosphere. The European Coalition managed to contain that too. Even now, they've got magic-users constantly maintaining a huge shield, keeping the debris from spreading through the atmosphere." He shrugged. "All in all, it could have been a lot worse. The one nasty side effect is that Paris and all the area in a two-hundred klick radius suffers from a year-round nuclear winter."



Gabe nodded. "The surface temp averages around -50 Celsius, and that's on a good day."



Felix raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like a fun vacation spot."



Adam shrugged. "Yeah, but you know us Parisians, we persevere. Change the name, gradually expand the Underground, work our way deeper and deeper..."



The group was approaching a tall archway cut into solid rock. Adam grinned suddenly. "Are you guys ready for this?"



They passed under the archway, and entered another world.



Felix felt his eyes widen and he heard the other rockers gasp. They'd emerged onto another walkway, this one running perpendicular to la Rue Saint-Denis, along a wall of solid rock. The view that stretched out before them was mesmerizing.



"Welcome," he heard Adam say, "to the White City."



A huge open chamber had been carved out of the rock, stretching away overhead and under him for as far as he could see. More than a kilometre away, he could see the far wall, lined with pedways and elevator cars. Between them, buildings rose majestically from the cavern floor, connected by walkways and cables and balconies. There were small living complexes, huge skyscrapers rising all the way to the ceiling, and roads that wound around them, vanishing into tunnels cut through the rock walls.



Felix craned his neck upward and saw the sheer stone walls were studded with sunlamps, bathing the city with light. Even higher, he saw a glint of light off glass.



Adam followed his gaze upward. "The big businesses and the fabulously wealthy live up on the surface," he commented, "Where they can afford enough transparent aluminum to build atriums and towers and actually get to see the real sun, the bastards." He grinned, and there was satisfaction in the expression, the happiness an exile feels upon returning home. "This is the Quartier de Notre-Dame."



"Our Lady's Quarter," translated Gabe, for the benefit of the ex-hobbits, who were still staring in awe at the underground metropolis.



"The city is divided into Quartiers which are scattered about underground, connected by the transit lines, the Metro, and the pedways; you've got la Quartier de Gaulle, la Quartier Bonaparte, La Place Baptiste, and a few others. They all link together to form the Paris Underground." Adam joined the others at the rail and stared out at the sprawl of city.



"Cool."



Pippin pried himself away from the view. "So, what do we do now?"



Aragorn indicated a pedway that linked the wall to the nearest building. "First, we find a bank. I've got a numbered account that no one knows about." He winced. "I had some emergency cash stashed during the war. I left it here when I came to New York, and haven't accessed it since. No one will be able to trace it."



"Good idea," said Mark, chafing his hands together. "Can some of this money be used for the purchase of gloves? Or any cold-weather gear, for that matter? Hypothermia has never been high on my list of ways to die."



"Pansy," was Felix's comment.



"Shut up."



"I think we can manage that." Adam levelled a glare at the ex-hobbits. "We need to find an apartment, someplace where we can set up a base of operations. We don't know how long we're going to be here, we don't know who and where our allies are, and we don't know who's out to get us. We need a place to lie low while we scout around."



Sam nodded. "Plus, Legolas is still in bad shape. We've got to get him somewhere stable, at least."



Felix, ever the voice of reason, finished the thought. "What he really needs is a doctor who won't notice his, um, less-than-human qualities."



Gabe pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "In other words, where are the bloody Elves when you need them?"



Adam just shook his head. Sanity was well and truly gone now. Survival was the key issue, if only they could weather the storm that was coming. He led the others to another pedway, the Rue Plumet, and they vanished into the heart of the White City.