For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.
Chapter 45 "The Missing, pt 3"
Macleod was torn, and in the end, he did exactly nothing. He waited for the outcome of the battle in the trees. He was still skeptical about Petra still being alive but the girl seemed to be sincere and had yet to ask for anything. She didn't try to get him to fight her fight for her. Something wasn't right though. She seemed to sense the other's arrival before he did. That usually denoted that she must be older but she didn't match up to anyone he knew of. Petra might be alive! The thought rebounded around in his head as he waited the conclusion of the fight. He could still picture the little blond spitfire that he found recovering from what was her first death at the hands of muggers in a cemetery. She took to combat as if born to it. She always seemed to be trying too hard to be happy. He never had a chance to find out what bad things she was trying to forget. She was challenged and in the ensuing fight was killed, or so a friend told him, and she was never seen again. Now to find out she survived! Nevertheless, why did she disappear? He will find out soon enough. Whether Willow wins or not he means to have answers! He could hear faint sounds of clanging steel and voices shouting, correction a male voice shouting, a burst of something that might have been Latin, and then silence. The power of the quickening was surprising, and it was a bit unusual in that the blue-white bolts of energy were intermingled with black bolts of energy as well. A few moments later, the battered and bruised redhead came from the trees. She was carrying her challenger's longsword. As she approached the back of her car, the trunk opened. She threw the blade haphazardly into the trunk, closed it and moved toward the driver's door. She looked at Duncan with eyes that showed a sadness and fear so strong that it struck him almost like a physical blow.
"Duncan, I need your help. I need to find a particular female Immortal. She's about 5'7", dark blonde, medium build, but the most striking feature is her eyes; they are a bright amber color. I'm not here for her head, I just need to meet her and talk. That's all, just talk, Holy ground, cemetery, monastery, church, synagogue, druid's grove, Reverend Bob's Chapel of Love, whatever. I need to find her. It has to do with Petra. Will you help me?"
"I need to know more, but we should talk somewhere else. Your light show will probably have attracted attention." He said stepping to the passenger side of her car.
"Hopefully somewhere I can get a half gallon mocha." She said as she climbed into her 'black beast' as she had affectionately named it.
Duncan eyed the interior of the car with a critical eye and concluded that ether this was a perfect restoration or a perfectly maintained original condition Superbird. He was duly impressed. He extended his inspection to the driver. Her skin seemed unusually pale where he would have expected her to be flushed with the exertion of a fight and the subsequent Quickening, especially one of that size. She was piloting the gargantuan car with considerable skill and reserve. He had irrationally expected her to drive it with the reckless abandon that Richie did because she seemed to be about the same age. As long as he had been Immortal, he still had to catch himself judging people by their appearance. She took his directions coolly. He led them to a small coffee shop run by a casual acquaintance of his. It was after the morning commuter rush and they had the place to themselves. He ordered a plain black coffee; the redhead ordered the quadruple espresso mocha. As they sat down at one of the tables, Willow removed her gloves and was basking in the warmth from her mug, staring intently into it as if to avoid looking at Duncan.
"Willow, how well do you know Petra?" Willow looked up, her eyes kinda wistful as she contemplated the answer. She thought over the 700 years of experiences that she had absorbed from her friend Petra, also known as Buffy, Elisabetha, Genny, Summer, Mort Ange, Genvieve, or a host of other names. She thought about all the good times, the horrible losses, the friends lost and worse, the ones she had to kill. The memories threatened to swallow her up, she was drownding in them. She grasped at the newest ones, the ones she knew were hers, no dual perspective. This line brought her around to her most recent activities, her own immortal quickenings taken. At this she had to clench her jaw to keep from hurling right here on the table. She pushed the Mocha away with a sweep of her arm. "What is it Willow?" Duncan was worried, she hadn't moved for quite a few moments since he had asked about Petra. He lay his hand over hers on the table snapping her out of the depths of her mind.
"Almost everything I know came from Petra. She made me the woman I am today" she replied , the bitter sarcastic edge to her voice showing through.
