Chapter Twenty-One
Niebos

Leaning on the rail of the island ferry as it slowed for its approach, Methos could almost make out the form on the docks waiting for him. He grinned in anticipation. It had been a long journey even with the high-altitude hop flights they'd taken to get here. Part of the problem had been passports.

While he had several and could keep altering his identity… Jayne had only the one. He had to hope that no matter how good Sarah Manning was… she didn't know Jayne's name. Still… a hop from Seacouver down to Los Angeles and then a high altitude one to Hong Kong, followed by another to New Delhi and a third to Athens had been draining. The high flights were quick… but too many in a row in the space of twenty-four hours could be devastating physically. Jayne, he knew, was exhausted. The ferry ride had taken longer than some of the flights… but it had been worth it.

He glanced over at the Watcher, curled on a bench beneath his spare coat and sleeping soundly. She'd be fine… although she'd likely want to sleep for the next twenty-four hours. His own plans… and he grinned at the thought of the woman waiting for him… did not involve sleep… at least not immediately.

As the ferry eased alongside the wharf and workers moved to secure it, Methos leaned over Jayne and roused her gently. "We're here," he said softly. The young woman nodded sleepily and stretched slightly as she yawned and murmured that she was awake. By this time, the gangway had been lowered. Methos turned and eagerly descended amongst the handful of tourists. As they left the boat, another handful of locals climbed aboard for their trip to the mainland. All Methos saw at this moment was Eleanor… with a sleepy Marianna in her arms.

The little girl blinked at him when Eleanor whispered something to her. "Daddy!" she cried and reached out her small arms toward him.

Methos lifted her and at the same time managed to give Eleanor a long kiss before the little girl in his arms demanded his attention.

"Daddy, I been good. Opa gave me a new doll. Denara and I play dolls everyday. She beheads hers."

"Does she?" Methos grinned, considering the old-in-years Denara reduced to playing dolls with an actual four-year-old.

Eleanor grinned with a shrug. "Denara's been baby-sitting some."

"Not baby-sitting," protested Marianna folding her arms. "Not a baby! We're friends."

"Of course you are, Precious," Methos said holding Marianna before him and feeling her small legs settle around his waist and her arms reach to hold his neck. He grinned at her and gave her a raspberry kiss on her neck.

She giggled. "Stop it Daddy! That tickles."

Behind him, Methos heard Jayne approaching. She was still wrapped in his spare coat and looked about bleary-eyed. "Please tell me we're really here."

"Jayne!" whooped Marianna.

"Jayne will be staying here for a while, Precious."

"Goody… we can play." She wriggled free and clasped one of Jayne's hands. "Wait 'til you meet Denara. She can play too."

Jayne glanced at Methos as she was being led away. "Denara?" she mouthed.

"Just follow Marianna up the hill to the villa. Keep an eye on her," Methos laughed as he clasped Eleanor to him and kissed her again. She felt real in his arms and he had to admit… real was even better than dreams. He raised her up in his arms as she took his full attention. He felt her arms go about his neck and finger the small scars of the unity bond. Instantly he wanted her. He groaned and pulled back looking about. "I don't want to wait."

"Well," she laughed and he heard the tinkling bells in her laughter, "we could always scandalize the populace and get it on right here."

"Don't think I haven't considered that, imp," he chuckled as he let her slide down until her feet once more touched the ground. She leaned into him and giggled. "I missed you," he said.

She made no reply. When he looked at her face, she was biting her lip. Then she met his gaze as if to reassure him. "I missed you, too." For a moment he wanted to curse Darius for having so completely stolen that line, that every time he used it… she thought of their dead friend.

"I love you," Eleanor said as she stood on tiptoe and bent his head down for another kiss. When she broke it she winked at him. "So… to the villa? I've made arrangements for Denara to watch Marianna the rest of the day and she even offered to let her sleep over in her room tonight… or… do you want to get a room at the inn?"

"Hmmm… so no interruptions either way," he smirked as he shifted her to one side and gestured to the hill path. "Let's go to the villa. I don't want to have to get up and move again for weeks."

"Well I said overnight… not weeks," she laughed. "Besides… I have to work tomorrow."

"At the hospital?"

"Mmm… I think Kenny will be re-joining us soon. All the signs are there as they were with Carl."

"I'm not certain I want you anywhere near that immortal when he awakens. He's predatory."

"Yes… but I know him, and Grace doesn't. Besides I don't want to put either her or her baby at risk."

"What about Powers? Can't he handle it?"

"Probably, but Kenny might recall Greg from the dreamscape and be out for his head."

"I suppose I could help," he grumbled.

"Dr. Adams to the rescue. Yes," she laughed, "that would certainly put Kenny in his place."

He laughed and sped up. Eleanor was stumbling to keep up with him so he swept her up into his arms where she laughed merrily and kicked her feet up and down. Oh yes… this was much better than long-distance already.

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Northern France:

It was already mid-day by the time Duncan pulled up before the manor house. Stepping out of the car, he realized he could not sense the others. Slamming the door, he paused and looked around before racing into the house. Perhaps they were still below?

The door to the sub-level chapel was open… and the chapel itself was empty. He noted the carefully folded blankets and the re-packed basket… sans foodstuffs. The two champagne glasses had been shattered against one of the walls. Evidently Kate and Alistair had had quite the party.

Worried, Duncan headed to the upstairs bedrooms. Other than the disturbed linens on his, and his bag still open on a chest, there was nothing. The lovers had not settled into a bedroom, nor were their belongings still here.

Duncan leaned against a wall and tried to think… but the only clear thought in his mind was that in his hurry to do what Kate wanted… he might have destroyed her. Guilt lay heavy on his shoulders as he descended the stairs. He had to find them… and for that… he might need the Watchers. Joe would likely read him the riot act… but he would help… he had to.

On the mantel in the drawing room, he saw a cream envelope resting against an antique anniversary clock. Striding across the room, he ripped into it, noting his name, written with Kate's distinctive flourish on the outside.

Duncan,

I cannot begin to thank you for this gift. I had hoped to thank you in person this morning, but as you are gone, I leave you this instead. Alistair feels it might be best if we moved on now. I rather think he's a bit jealous of you, but I fail to see why. What was between you and me was over with long ago. We tried to recapture it after Kell died, but we both knew that there had been too much time and too much hurt for us to ever be together.

Again, my thanks,

Kate

Duncan crumpled the note in his hand. He'd held out one last hope that they might have told him where they were going. All of his frustration welled up in him and he let out a great cry. He'd wanted this so badly… that he'd let himself become involved despite his fears about whether Kate was fully ready and prepared for what might happen. He'd assured himself that he would be able to remain at her side and support her in the time to come. He wanted a child… likely almost as badly as she did… and he'd let his desires blind him in regard to what he should have done.

Now… Kate was likely in danger… and would have no idea that she was.

Angrily he picked up a chair and crashed it against the fireplace until it was little more than sticks. Even then, he wanted to tear something apart.

How long he sat there fuming… he wasn't certain. Finally, he rose, grabbed his things from upstairs, and left. He'd contact the caretaker later about the damage and the foodstuffs… but for right now… he needed to be doing something… anything.

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Northern Pacific:

The storm came up out of the south… and the thunderheads built hour by hour. Below decks, Michele extinguished the cooking fires. "No help for it," she said with a shrug. "When it's this rough… there's no way to cook."

David laughed ruefully. "Yeah… the one day hot coffee and hot soup would be nice to have… and it's not possible." He blew on his hands, and then thrust them into his jacket pockets as he made an attempt to stay warm. The ship listed to one side and Michelle came reeling toward him. David caught her with a laugh and pulled her onto his lap. "Of course there are other ways to stay warm," he teased as he kissed her. Michelle returned his kiss, her hands about his neck.

Feeling like a voyeur suddenly, Amber pulled on her gloves to head up on deck. Sometimes the close quarters of the small ship and the lack of privacy really got to her. Each of them likely knew everything the others did. Her immortal senses kept pushing the alarm button, and she feared this trip might yet end in disaster. In the corridor… she passed Wingate. Just as she passed him, the boat rocked again slamming her into Wingate. His arms went around her shoulders… and he held her even after the ship righted… his brown eyes staring into hers.

Amber pushed free. "Touch me again, me boyo, an' I'll have yar head," she snarled at him. Wingate's eyes widened as he stumbled back against the bulkhead… her small knife protruding slightly from his midsection. He burbled blood as she pulled it free and made her way on deck. She wanted to have another talk with Derrick.

She found him intently steering the ship into the wind so that it sliced through the waves crashing on deck. Pulling the pilothouse door behind her, she roared over the sound of the storm. "We've got to get off this ship!"

"It's not that bad a storm," Derrick protested. "The ship can weather it."

"I'm not talkin' about the bleedin' storm!"

Derrick met her gaze quizzically and then refocused on their direction, swiftly and expertly turning the wheel. "I can't talk about that now," he finally said.

"Ya better or someone is gonna be dead soon."

Derrick's shoulders sagged. "What is it this time," he finally yelled.

"Wingate… your pet project. I don't trust him."

"Have you ever?"

"No… and I'm not likely to." She slouched against the console and folded her arms across her chest. "He grabbed me."

Derrick raised an eyebrow and she thought she saw the corners of his mouth curve up slightly. "And?" he said with a hint of humor.

Amber shrugged. "I told him to keep his mitts off."

Derrick turned the wheel again and the ship rose sharply against a wave. Amber staggered to one side, swiftly grasping the console to keep from falling.

"And the circumstances of this grabbing?" Derrick continued evenly.

Amber glared. Finally she gave in. "Oh all right. I stumbled into him… but he didn't have to hold on and look at me that way. I tell ya… we got to make port soon or someone will die."

Derrick sighed. "Perhaps you're right. I'll have a talk with him later… after the storm."

"That's all I ask," Amber finally admitted. Things had been strained between the two of them since he'd nearly taken her head… and everyone on board likely knew it. If Derrick retired to the cabin to sleep at all, it was while she was on deck. If she came below to join him… he rose and left. Amber had to admit to herself that the incident had apparently disturbed him even more than it had her.

"If that's all… you should go below," he said curtly.

"I don't blame ya… ya got to know that," she said. But Derrick made no reply, merely concentrated on the path the ship needed to take through the crashing waves and torrential rain.

Angrily, and with tears stinging her eyes, Amber stormed out of the pilothouse and made her way along the slick deck. A fine sheen of ice was building up on the deck and even her deck shoes slid slightly across the surface.

"Damn him!" she hissed. Connor had been right! It was better not to care about another immortal. It was better never to allow yourself to love one. Immortals killed other immortals! It was the way of it!

The ship lurched and Amber grabbed at the railing as her feet slid out from under her. When the ship lurched again, she lost her grip and went sliding across the deck. The next moment… she found herself flung into the air. As she came down… a wave crashed over the deck. When it receded… it took her with it.

Amber Conroy found herself sinking into the depths of the tempest-tossed ocean. She kicked strongly… trying to reach the surface… and gasped for air. Salt water entered her lungs and she spasmed… feeling as she began to lose consciousness… that someone had her hand.

-----

She came to in the cabin. Michelle had stripped off Amber's wet clothes and wrapped her in several blankets. She sat there toweling Amber's hair. "There you are. You're back."

Amber coughed deeply… still tasting the briny water. She shivered uncontrollably.

"You were lucky. Caspar saw you go over. He dived in after you."

Puzzled, Amber tried to shake her head. "Wingate?"

Michelle pushed Amber's wet hair off of her face. "He was on his way topside to see if he could help Derrick when he saw you washed overboard."

"Derrick? I thought he…?"

"Derrick's got his hands full with the storm. If we founder… we'll all be walking to shore." Michelle grinned with a tease. She glanced up as Burke came in with something hot in a cup.

"How did you manage it?" Michelle asked him.

Burke shrugged. "Hot plate!" He handed the cocoa to Amber. "Good?"

Amber nodded as she sipped, her teeth chattering against the mug. Her hands shook so badly that Michelle eased the cup free of them and held it for her to sip.

"There now… We'll manage together. You just relax."

"Is Wingate all right?"

"Far as I know. He went to his cabin to change into dry clothes. Course… then he'll head topside again and be all wet."

"Where's David?"

"Helping Derrick."

Amber pulled the blankets closer as she continued to shiver, aware that it wasn't just the cold that was causing this. Her feelings were in an uproar. "I need to see him," she finally chattered.

"Derrick? He'll be by later… after the storm."

Amber shook her head. "Wingate. I need to thank him."

"Later Amber. Right now… you need to let yourself sleep."

Amber nodded. She did feel sleepy. The cocoa had something in it. She knew that now. Amber Conroy closed her eyes… and drifted off.

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