Chapter Thirty-Five
Niebos:

When they'd reached the beach at the cove, the three boys plunged into the surf. The tide was coming in and the waves were huge. Once, J. D. looked out towards the direction of the rock shelf… now deeply under water and evident only by sprays of water as the waves crashed into it. But Chou pushed the boy's head under and a wrestling match ensued between the three of them.

The tide came in more quickly than they expected, and before they knew it, even the beach path was under water.

"No hope for it now," Denis sighed. "Back up the stairs."

Chou grumbled as he began the climb. "I hate going back up this way. It's too steep."

Denis gave his friend a brief shove as they climbed; behind him, J. D. laughed as he glanced back over his shoulder at the sunlight dancing on the crashing waves. For a moment, he thought he saw a tall dark-haired woman dancing among the waves. The sight so startled him that he missed a step, lost his balance, and slid back down several steps before he came to a stop.

Pain exploded in one hand!

"Owwwwwwwwww!" J. D. cried out as he rolled onto his back on one step and held up a bloody hand.

The other two froze and then scampered back down to him.

Not accustomed to dealing with injuries… the boys were uncertain what to do.

"I'm the fastest," Denis said. "I'll go for help."

"No," whimpered J. D. "Mom and Uncle Phillip will know we've been here. Just wrap it up and help me back to the hospital. We'll work on a story."

"Are you sure you can manage the climb," Chou asked pulling off his wet shorts. None of the boys had shirts or shoes with them. At a nudge, Denis did the same. The wet shorts soon seemed to stanch the flow of blood.

"Can you climb?" Chou asked.

J. D. nodded. Cradling his hand he began to climb. Chou climbed ahead of him while Denis followed behind. They didn't want him falling again.

Halfway up the stairs, J. D.'s face paled and he had to sit for a while to catch his breath. "Just a little dizzy," he told them. Shortly after he insisted he was fine and the boys continued the steep climb. It was near dinnertime by the time they finished the climb to the temple mount. In the distance, they could hear the dinner bell at the villa ringing.

"I'm going for help," Denis said. "You two stay here."

J. D. didn't argue this time. His face was pale and it was obvious that he was still bleeding badly as the shorts were soaked a dark magenta.

Denis flew like the wind down the twisting mountain path; fearful of falling and delaying the help he was certain his friend needed. Still… he'd cut corners at the ends and leap down where he could to save time. Dusty and out of breath… he arrived at the hospital.

"Eleanor!" he shouted as he entered. She was usually in the ward, but he saw only the night nurse watching over the sleeping immortals.

The Greek woman looked up from her magazine and pointed towards the wing that had private rooms.

Denis took off running… sliding a bit along the tile floors as he called her name. "Eleanor!" she appeared in a doorway and grabbed at him as he slid into her.

"What's happened?"

"J. D.," Denis began as he bent over trying to catch his breath.

Eleanor's hands tightened on the boy's arms. "Tell me."

"We were on the temple mount. He fell. His hand's bleeding… really bad." Denis noticed a wide-awake Kenny watching the two of them intently within the room, but he pushed it aside in his urgency.

Eleanor paled. "Run to the villa and tell Phillip. I'm headed up the mountain. Hurry!" Denis raced off and Eleanor looked back into the room. "I'll be back later, Kenny." She hurried to the nursing station where she grabbed supplies… stuffed them into a bag and then raced up the mountain. Seldom had she climbed so quickly. Oh… she'd come down it fast enough the day so many years ago when she'd sensed that Derrick was in danger. Inwardly she prayed to whatever gods existed that her son would be all right. She began to hum as she climbed… determined not to alarm Methos. Overhead, the first stars were just beginning to appear. It was fully dark by the time she reached the summit.

"Over here," Chou called out to her.

She slid into a kneeling position in the dirt near them, aware that her son's face was as white as the broken stone columns.

"Hey Mom," he said weakly. "I fell."

Eleanor felt his cold moist forehead and knew he was surrendering to shock. She lay him down and pulled off her white coat to cover his shoulders. Grabbing the flashlight… she stuck it in her teeth while she began to remove the makeshift bandage. When blood spurted, she stopped and grabbed several rolls of gauze to wrap over and around the shorts. As bad as they were… they'd have to stay until she could get him to a more stable environment to get a clear look at the wound and get it stitched up. J. D. moaned as she moved his arm to put it under the coat. Likely a bone was broken as well.

Moments later she heard Phillip and Greg's voices as they climbed the path and arrived at the summit.

"How bad is it?" Phillip asked.

"I can't tell. He's bleeding and I don't want to remove the bandage until we get him down the mountain."

"I'll carry him," Phillip insisted and scooped a semi-conscious J. D. into his arms. "Greg… you go on with Chou and help Grace get a room ready. We'll be right behind you."

Greg handed the lantern he was carrying to Eleanor. "It'll be fine." He squeezed Eleanor's arm and gave her a small, smile of encouragement.

Eleanor nodded… but she didn't feel encouraged. She wanted to be at the hospital now! She wanted to see how bad it was! She wanted it never to have happened!

Again she forced herself to hum as they made their way down the mountain. She'd put up her mental wall… but she feared that some of her fears would leak around the edges. She'd tell Methos later. She'd call him and talk to him in Paris. He had enough to worry about… and Phillip was here. It would be fine. It had to be fine.

By the time they reached the clearing where the hospital was nestled, Greg had met them with a gurney. Gently Phillip laid J. D. on it as they wheeled him into the emergency room area. It wasn't usually staffed as they lived close enough to the hospital to handle any emergencies that the townsfolk had… but Grace had powered up the lights and had prepared one of the bays to receive them. Phillip stood back out of the way while the three doctors went to work on the boy. Grace removed the bloody rags and gauze while Greg prepared Eleanor to transfuse blood.

"I'm worried he won't tolerate anything else," Greg said meaningfully. Eleanor nodded. She sat next to him and pumped her arm a few times to get the blood flow started and then relaxed. With her free arm she brushed the sand from his face and ran her fingers through his dark hair. He was unconscious by this time… and breathing shallowly. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Although he healed fairly quickly from minor scrapes and scratches… Eleanor had no idea how his system would handle a major trauma.

"It's a compound fracture," Grace said. "That's why there's so much blood. It ruptured the skin."

"Surgery?" Eleanor asked.

"Maybe when he's a little more stable. We can type his blood and see if we have any in the bank," Greg said, evidently satisfied that the transfusion was going well.

Grace poured saline solution over the wound and gently applied a pressure bandage before wrapping the wrist again. She gave J. D. a shot of antibiotics. "About that… I don't know if mortal blood will be safe for him."

"Why not?" Eleanor asked. "Pre-immortals have never had problems before."

"That we know of. But if J. D. is like Marianna… his entire DNA structure is slightly different."

"What do you mean?"

Greg covered the boy with a warm blanket from the autoclave. "How different? I didn't think you'd ever noticed anything with the pre-immortals you tested years ago."

"I didn't. But I took a sample from Marianna earlier today. You recall I said ours looked a bit ragged at one end… as if something were missing?"

Eleanor and Greg nodded.

"Marianna has a triple helix that gradually dovetails to a double helix. Until we know more… I wouldn't want to use mortal blood on him."

Eleanor nodded. "I can give him all he needs," she insisted. She smiled at her son. Already his cheeks were pinking up. "He's going to be fine."

"As soon as he's stable, I'll put him under and set the bone," Greg added evenly. He didn't want Eleanor to give any more blood than absolutely necessary.

Phillip cleared his throat. "I think I'll check on those other two scamps and find out what happened. That is if you don't need me now."

Grace assured him that three medical doctors could handle one emergency and he left, drawing the curtain behind him as he left. On the far side of the small ER, he saw Kenny. "Get on back to your room now lad. There's nothing to see here."

Kenny shook his head and pointed, making a garbled sound.

"One of the local boys fell and injured himself," Phillip replied. "The others will handle everything. Get on back to bed. I'll send someone to sit with you if you need."

Kenny shook his head and slowly walked down the hall. Phillip watched him until he vanished into his room and then sighed. He was going to have trouble with that boy; he just knew it. Reluctantly, he left, to discover from the others exactly what had happened… and to get Carl to come keep watch over the latest addition to their little family.

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They were lying to him. Kenny was certain of it. He crawled back onto the bed in his room but only to sit and stare into the darkness. He wasn't sleepy. If Eleanor were telling the truth… he'd slept for years. He needed to work out, stretch, and rebuild his strength. And… he needed to find a sword.

The Swordmaster hadn't had one on him when he'd ordered him back to his room. In fact, he hadn't noticed anyone carrying one since he'd awakened. That meant they were likely stashed somewhere close. All he had to do was find one.

When Eleanor had been called away by Denis, he'd sensed in her absence, the presence of the other immortals she'd mentioned. He'd slipped through the corridor until his sense of them pounded in his head. Standing on tiptoe, he'd seen them lying in their beds in the dimly lit ward. It was grotesque! They lay there unmoving while machines beeped around them. Was that how he'd been? He'd crouched back down after seeing them and had grinned. They'd make easy targets.

He was on his way back to his room when he'd sensed another immortal… one who seemed to draw him… interest him. The feel of her was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He wasn't certain who she was… but she was pregnant. That he saw clearly. Once he'd gotten over his surprise at such impossibility, he watched her from the shadows get one of the trauma areas ready to receive a patient. Shortly later, she was joined by Greg, who grabbed a gurney and headed back out. He'd called her Grace and had said something about them bringing him in.

Kenny had crouched in the shadows to watch and wait. Grace's presence still teased at him. He wanted to meet her… touch her… protect her. Kenny had almost been ready to step out of the shadows when Greg, Eleanor and Phillip had arrived with a boy on a gurney. The boy was pre-immortal. Kenny grinned. No wonder they were worried. If he were badly hurt… he'd be like Kenny… an immortal easy to kill. He'd licked his lips in anticipation.

He'd been on his way back to his room when Phillip had spotted him. That had been unfortunate, but not devastating. He'd just have to work harder at appearing to be what he wasn't… a small and very lost and confused little boy. Well… he'd had centuries of practice.

As he stretched and went through routines that his mind remembered but that his body didn't… trying to make the muscles recall the moves… he'd seen Denara and Denis. That might mean that Chou and the others from the convent school were likely here as well. Well he'd have something for all of them… he just needed to plan everything very carefully. But first… he had to find a sword.

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Near Waterloo Battlefield:

It was fully night by the time the trucker pulled off to the side of the road to let Duncan out. He waved to the immortal and then pulled back onto the road, continuing his run. Duncan watched him leave and then headed into the Belgian countryside. He'd lucked into the ride and had made good time. He'd arrived here far faster than he'd originally thought he would.

Paul hadn't asked too many questions. Evidently the trucker was accustomed to hitchhikers who kept their reasons for traveling this way to themselves. Nevertheless, Duncan had laughed at his jokes, and had commented on politics when asked for his opinion.

Now on his own, he shoved his hands into the pockets of the cloth coat and strolled across the dark fields. He still needed to grid the map. The starting point had to be the chapel… but was it the corner? Somehow he didn't think so. It was off to one side… but near the center of that side of the field. Not that the battlefield was a square, of course, but the map was. It looked like the chapel was the queen's row.

Once he got the grid drawn, he'd need to orient himself and figure out how big the squares were. The map was not necessarily drawn to scale, but he felt it was fairly accurate. The main thing was that now he had an idea about where to begin looking.

As he exited the stand of trees and headed for the chapel, he disturbed some nesting birds that circled into the night air. Some distance away he could hear an owl hoot and recalled an old American Indian legend about owls foretelling death. But the owl seemed only to hoot… and he had no sense of it calling his name.

Soon he stood by the chapel and faced the battlefield. The chapel had belonged to one of the landowners in the area. It had been, in 1815, a small run-down stone and timber structure that had seen better days. Darius had used it as a hospital for the wounded… a place of Sanctuary. In the intervening years, it had been de-sanctified and enlarged to house a small interactive museum. He'd been through it numerous times in the past few years… looking for a clue. He'd never considered that its location was a clue.

He'd need to wait until first light to do much more… but he wanted to be out of here before too many tourists arrived. Squatting down, he leaned back against the wall of the old chapel and contemplated the rolling hillside before him.

Now that he was here, his mind returned to Kate… and to Amanda. He leaned his head against the stone wall of the chapel and closed his eyes… recalling the last time that he and Amanda had made love. In the darkness… his fingers moved slightly in the patterns that Methos and Eleanor had taught them… and he ached for Amanda. He longed to hold her and run his hands and tongue over her… taste her and lose himself in her.

He clenched his hands and shook his head, recalling the de Valicourts. He wasn't certain he wanted anyone in his thoughts. Methos and warned him that was part of it. "She will always be there," Evidently Gina and Robert had thought they were ready and had forged ahead with the joining… figuring their centuries together more than equaled the on-again, off-again relationships of the others. Evidently they'd felt they were ready. Evidently… they hadn't been.

And Kate… he'd wanted her in the moments after quickening her. He'd wanted to gather her into his arms and make love to her… make all the disappointments of her immortal life go away… at least for a while. It had taken all of his willpower to back away and let another man have her… father her child. He wasn't even certain if he'd insisted on having her at that point that a child would have been conceived. And yet… he'd wanted her. The chimera of his overwhelming desire for her long ago… his need to kill her to keep her as she always was… haunted him. He needed to help her now. And… if a child had been conceived… she'd be vulnerable now to other immortals. Unless Alistair understood what was needed… the child would drain Kate… and Duncan would have been a part of killing her a second time. He had to find her! He had to protect her and her child… their child!

Duncan found himself smiling at the thought of small version of himself or of her running around the Highlands. He could almost see it… feel it… touch it. He could almost hear a child's laughter, wafting on the breeze. Startled he opened his eyes… aware that the first light of dawn was in the eastern sky. The darkness was fading to gray… and soon color would return to the world. He'd been asleep and his legs had cramped up.

Duncan rose and stretched, aware that he was getting hungry. His stomach rumbled as he thought of food. Pushing the thought away, he crossed to an acrylic display that showed the battlefield. He laid his map on it the case and pulled out the piece of string he'd gotten from Paul, the trucker.

Holding it taut over the map, he began to fill in the lines until he saw a grid pattern forming. It wouldn't be long now… he was certain of it… before he'd finally found what it was that Darius had left here for him. Folding the map over, he located two landmarks and began to pace off the distance between them and then to measure the distance between them on the map. He needed points of reference… and he needed a scale to ascertain the grid point he needed on the battlefield.

Daylight grew in the east as he began to measure.

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