Shelter

Outside of the hidden grove on the Rue St. Jacque, Duncan paused in the rain and looked across the street at the ruins of St. Julian le Pauvre.

Two years after the events that had caused Alisaunne to absorb the quickening of the ancient that had once inhabited Darius… that had waited for her… nothing had been done to the blasted building. Duncan kept an eye on information about it. If the Church sold the property… he wanted to be in a position to outbid anyone for it. The secrets hidden below the church had to be protected at any cost. So far… no decision had been made. Duncan had submitted some early feelers to the ruling body concerning his desires to acquire and restore the property if it came up for sale. He'd been told that he would be informed when a decision would be made.

With a sigh, he passed beneath the stone arch and fingered the old key that would unlock the wrought iron gate that kept the grove separate from the rest of the modern world. Once inside, he breathed the moist air and looked up through the screening that hid the grove from flights overhead… but which allowed sunlight and rain to pass in.

He couldn't sense Alisaunne here. Crossing to the hidden door to the sewer… he found it locked from the far side. Evidently she was working. Wishing to get out of the rain falling now in a steady downpour… he sped carefully up the narrow stone steps to the rooms at the top.

Shaking off the rain, he stamped his feet just inside the door and took in the room at a glance. Everything was neat as a pin. If it weren't for the old laptop on the table by the window, he'd think that no one had been here lately. The rooms were cold… as if no heat had been turned on for some time.

Rubbing the dampness from his hair, he crossed to the table and leaned on it… checking the progress of the game. This was Derrick's old laptop. He'd left it for Alisaunne when he'd vanished from their lives two years ago. Alisaunne did not appear to have made any progress on it. Evidently her time was spent on the puzzle of the mysterious writings on the wall… a puzzle that Eleanor had told him that Darius had never solved. But then… Eleanor had not realized that Darius had solved the puzzle of the artifacts either. But he had… at least partly. Alisaunne's existence proved that.

Next to the laptop was a steno pad folded open to a fresh sheet. Next to it were seven sharpened pencils lying neatly one beside the other. There was an artful and purposeful air to their placement. Duncan glanced up at the empty shelves. On one he saw the old, faded, leather-bound journal that Alisaunne had found. Darius' journal. He pulled it from the shelf to flip through the parchment pages… eyeing the drawings and comments that his mentor and friend had written there… wondering if Alisaunne had discerned any additional secrets.

Almost reverently, he replaced his old friend's journal on the shelf. "I wish you'd told me, Darius," he whispered. "I wish you'd trusted me with some of this while you were still alive."

He felt Alisaunne's presence below and stepped out onto the landing to let her know who was here. She was in jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. Even from here he could see the patches of mud on her knees and elbows. She glanced up at him and waved warmly before turning to secure the hidden door on this side. He met her halfway down the steps.

"Duncan!" she laughed, giving him a friendly hug as she wiped away the raindrops from her eyes. "Have you been here long?"

"Only a few moments. Let's get out of the rain."

Alisaunne ran a hand through her dark hair, tied up in a short ponytail. "When did it start raining?"

"Sometime during the night," Duncan replied as he let her pass him on the stairs.

She bounded up with a sure foot and entered the rooms, crossing into the small bath facility for a towel to dry her hair. Rubbing it she laughed. "I was down there all night. I had no idea the weather had changed."

Duncan removed his coat. "Making any progress?"

Alisaunne shook her head. "No. It's the strangest thing. I can recall writing all of that… but the knowing of it… the meaning… is still hidden. I can't even fathom a pattern or order to what's written." She shrugged. "I've been cataloging the marks to try using a computerized decryption program."

"Sounds promising."

"Have you had any luck at Waterloo?"

Duncan shook his head. He'd been back there six months ago… walking the battlefield and visiting the old chapel on the nearby farm where he'd first heard Darius preach and where the priest had been tending to the wounded of both sides. Duncan had found no sign or clue that would lead him to the lost artifacts. He didn't even know now if they still existed. They might well have been destroyed when the immortal historian Cassius had died. The clues seemed to indicate that he'd hid them somewhere for Darius… but where? Were they at Waterloo… or was there only a clue there that he had yet to find… a clue that would lead him elsewhere?

Alisaunne crossed to the small refrigerator and opened it. "I'd offer you something to eat… but I don't have anything here. I really don't live here, you know."

Duncan smiled. "I know. Your parents told me you have place over on Rue Monge."

Alisaunne snorted and then glanced at Duncan. "I'm sorry. I have as hard a time relating to them as my parents as they have relating to me."

"They love you."

Alisaunne closed the refrigerator door. "I know. But sometimes that's not enough. We're just too different. They don't need me… all they need is each other."

"I think you're selling them short. Have you spoken to them about this?"

Alisaunne shrugged.

"Well you should," Duncan said softly. Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them… one over the other. ""Let me take you to dinner."

Alisaunne looked down at her attire. "I don't think I'm dressed for dinner out."

"We can stop by your place so you can change," Duncan winked.

He was rewarded by a warm smile. "I'd like that," she replied. "I really would."


They rode the open-cage elevator to the fourth floor of the building. Alisaunne had waved and chatted in easy French to a few of the other denizens of the building as they'd crossed the small lobby and as the elevator had passed the other floors.

"You seem to be getting on well," Duncan murmured softly.

"It's a life," she said with a laugh as she let him into her apartment. A quick glance showed him the same neat as a pin look to the place as he'd noted in the grove. He smiled as he recognized a few of the pieces he'd given her over the years.

"Make yourself at home, Duncan," she said cheerfully. "I'm gonna shower and change." She gave a little wave as she closed the door to her bedroom and moments later he heard the shower running.

Duncan pulled off his long coat… shook it slightly and then lay it across the back of a chair. He crossed to the windows, looking down at the rainy Paris street and shivered slightly. It was cold here as well. He turned and wandered about the room… noting a photograph in a brass frame. He lifted it. It must have been taken before her first death when she was still in college. She was sitting on the steps of the history building… books in her hands, smiling at the camera. Beside her sat Ian… looking at her in wonder.

Duncan set the photo back down with a sigh. Ian's death had been a blow to Alisaunne from which she'd yet to recover. She'd absorbed his quickening when he'd been killed… and had wept bitter tears. He was a part of her… and yet she did not have his memories.

"It's as though he wasn't there," she'd explained. "I have his power… but nothing of him… nothing of who he was… or what he knew… or learned… or thought."

Grace had theorized that it was because Ian had been in a drug-induced and drained state much as many of the other immortals they'd rescued had been. Those survivors were still unconscious… and she feared that they might never awaken. When his physical body had died… and Alisaunne had been the nearest immortal to him… she'd received his power… but not his soul.

Duncan turned when he heard the door open. She was toweling dry her hair and wrapped in a pink silk kimono with dragons embroidered on it. "Do you want some tea?" she asked. "I usually have some after I come home and clean up."

"That'd be nice," Duncan said.

As she passed him, she paused to reposition the photo ever so slightly, and then continued into the small kitchen. "I know it's cold here… but I like it cold," she said by way of apology as she busied herself preparing the tea.

Glancing into the kitchen Duncan could likewise see the precise placement of items and her exact and practiced movements as she worked. Something felt odd. It was as if she had a routine… and couldn't seem to move beyond it. He brushed the thought away as she asked about Amanda and other immortals.

They chatted amiably as she finished and brought a tray into the main room and settled it precisely on a low table. She poured him a cup and offered it with a shrug. "It's nothing special… just something hot."

"I'm sure it's fine," he replied.

She poured hers and lifted the cup in both hands… blowing on the hot liquid. Slowly she began to sip… her eyes glazed over as if her thoughts were far away. Duncan could not help but notice that the kimono had parted slightly over her legs. He found himself… as always when he was alone with her… painfully aware of her sexuality. She seemed to exude it unconsciously with every move. And yet… she seemed totally unaware of it. He shifted position and reached for one of the cookies she'd arranged on a plate.

Alisaunne ran fingers through her damp hair idly and then smiled at him. "I guess I need to finish dressing. I seldom go out… you know."

"Perhaps you should," he replied. "You shouldn't cut yourself off from others."

"I don't… but… I do spend a lot of time alone." She carefully set her cup on its saucer and turned it so that the handle faced to the right. Then she re-arranged the cookies to fill in the hole he'd made. Satisfied, she rose with a smile. "I'll get dressed." She swept past him, the edge of the kimono flaring open to reveal her long legs as she passed.

Duncan let out a deep focused breath after her door closed once more and he shut his eyes… recalling all too clearly the feel of her in his arms that day… and the taste of her on his lips. He gulped again at the tea as if to remind himself that Nestor's influence over her had been very strong that day. He wiped his brow, surprised that he was sweating.

"You know," he called out to her through the door, "I thought I might head up to Waterloo again tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Duncan. The farther from the grove I am… the more my defenses crumble."

"You can still hear Nestor?"

"Sometimes. Oh not words… but I have a sense of him as if he sleeps… waiting for me. You heard what happened when I went to Niebos?"

Duncan nodded. He'd heard. She'd torn about the island shrieking in her attempts to find the hidden body. But whether she'd wanted to release him or kill him had not been clear. Phillip had brought her back to Paris.

He gathered the tea things and carried the tray into the kitchen, setting it on the counter near the sink before heading back into the main room.

She re-entered from the bedroom, pushing the sleeves of her maroon sweater over her elbows. Her long suede skirt over her mid-calf boots still managed to show off her height and long legs to best advantage. She fluffed her hair as she paused before a mirror and methodically checked her makeup and appearance. She unpinned a cameo from where it lay to one side on the shawl collar and adjusted its position slightly. Then she smiled, turned and struck a pose. "Do I pass muster?"

"You look fine," Duncan replied with a laugh. He pulled on his coat and held up hers to slip into, then offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Over dinner he asked if she'd met any other immortals in Paris recently. She forked eagerly into her steak tatar with gusto, apparently enjoying the uncooked and marinated meat. After a few bites she looked at him oddly. "I've met a few. I don't really associate with them… though. I have work to do… and I don't want to take the chance of the game interfering."

"Have you heard about a female hunting others?"

Alisaunne shrugged. "I'm seldom out at night."

"I didn't say she was hunting at night."

Alisaunne paused and lay her fork down. She picked up her wineglass and sipped. Then she set it down, her fingers still lingering on the stem. "What are you asking?"

Duncan leaned forward. "Are you hunting?"

"Occasionally. What if I am? It's what we do. We're all killers. You taught me that." There was a flat tone to her words.

Duncan sat back in his chair… aware that this might not be the place to discuss this. He glanced about at the faces of the other diners in the restaurant… looking to see if anyone was watching them closely. While Joe might not have anyone on him, there might be someone on her. But if there were… it wasn't obvious. "I taught you to defend yourself… not to hunt."

"Oh? And here I thought that was precisely what you arranged for me my first time." She smiled at his discomfort. He had arranged for her to go hunting. He'd wanted to be certain she could do it. And then other things had interfered. Had she gotten a skewed sense of the game based on that first encounter?

"I just wanted to be certain you were ready," Duncan mumbled softly.

"And I am. Oh… I don't go looking for a fight. I have other concerns… as I said. But neither do I run from one. I face my opponent with all the skill you gave me. I fight with… what was the term you once used… ah yes… heart and faith and steel."

Duncan nodded. "That's all we can do… it's just that…" he smiled with a shrug. "I worry."

"Well don't be. I'm fine." She forked another mouthful of meat and swallowed, licking her lips afterwards.

Again he felt her raw power. Duncan grimaced slightly, wondering again what the ancients had been up to in creating her. In many ways, she was an immortal from another time… perhaps more akin to the ancients than she was to any of them… even Methos. Duncan had always felt that she had a dark and sinister side. Was it Nestor's influence? Or had she had it even before the monster had attacked her. He didn't know… he'd barely known her. At any rate, it was part of her now. Perhaps if Ian had lived… it would not have held sway over her.

He shifted in his seat and shrugged. "Just because we can and do… doesn't mean we don't have a choice. If what the symbols are telling us is true… then we don't have to continue with the game. We can choose to end it."

"But the feel of the quickening," she began, leaning forward in her chair, "… is intoxicating. It's the only time I really feel alive."

Duncan saw such sadness in her eyes reflected in her eyes. Alisaunne had not asked for this life… nor had she asked to be different. In many ways, he understood her confusion and despair as events that happened in his life. But unlike the pivotal disownment by a father, Alisaunne had never known parents… had instead found them. Perhaps it was the realization that the one person she'd loved and trusted as a child… had lied to her… even though he had done so for her best interests. Duncan reached out to clasp her hand… surprised when she pulled it sharply back and lay both hands in her lap. "Ali…" he whispered. "I only want to help."

She shook her head. "It's not help I need. I have to learn to deal with all of this on my own. Maybe I can't find the answers I need because I'm not ready yet. They're there… just the other side of my thoughts. I can see them… but they make no sense… like the writing on the cavern wall." Alisaunne brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled thinly. "I have to fight my demons myself, Duncan." She waved her hand diffidently at him. "I can't depend on others. I'll be fine."

Duncan let the subject drop for the time being. He wanted to discover what was going on with her… and to re-assure himself that she was not the "Black Widow" as the Watchers had styled the female head-hunting immortal, but this was neither the time… nor the place. Ears could be listening to them… eyes could be watching.