A/N A trip to Chile, and a reunion in a vineyard. Thanks very much to my readers and two reviewers, they do spades and spades for motivation.

SIX

Ylena felt the muzzle of a gun press against the back of her head. Her expression didn't change a hair, and she calmly took another sip of her spiced rum before setting her glass down on the table.

"I could hear you breathing from a half-mile away, Doctor."

"Where is he?"

Ylena gestured to the seat in front of her. "Please, Doctor, have a seat. We're beginning to draw unwanted attention."

Helen saw men reaching into their coats out of the corner of her eye. She smoothly holstered her pistol and took the offered seat. The riverside bar eased back into its normal ebb and flow.

"Your men?" she asked coolly.

Ylena merely quirked a delicate eyebrow, before pouring Helen a tumbler of rum. "No, merely men aware of the work I do."

Helen was beginning to wonder at the seeming young woman who sat before her. Ylena seemed completely at ease with her surroundings, and not at all fazed by the uncharacteristically hostile manner in which she had been greeted. Helen had tracked the Sybarites through some unsavoury channels and it unsettled her. What were Ylena and Aureliano doing that they had dealings with the cartels and crime lords that had once threatened their sacred temple?

Why were they being so elusive now?

"Where is he?" Helen repeated, the cool edge unwavering from her voice.

"I cannot tell you."

"Can't or won't?"

Ylena removed the dark glasses from her face, her eyes akin to two drops of black oil. There was concern and genuine like in her expression. "I heard you had died, Doctor. I mourned your passing."

Helen felt something in her soften. She was tired of seeing betrayal in every corner. Ylena and Aureliano had once been part of her Sanctuary … she still wanted to see them as her friends. "Ylena, what's going on?"

"Doctor … I owe you my life. I will never forget what you did for me. I cannot. It is a duty I accepted, witnessed by the Lady herself."

Helen bit back hot tears. "You told me he died."

Ylena's nostrils flared slightly, but she kept her eyes locked with Helen's. "To my knowledge, he had. I did not lie to you."

Helen sat stunned, still faced with more questions no matter how many steps further along to the truth she thought she had gotten. Ylena pulled out a sleek, mobile phone and quickly sent a message. She looked encouragingly at the untouched tumbler of rum in front of Helen.

Helen waved it away. "What have you two been doing here?"

Ylena shrugged and downed Helen's glass herself, eyelids fluttering slightly as she savoured the taste. "Corporate spies. We've discovered information to be a most lucrative business."

That certainly explained a few things. Helen regarded Ylena thoughtfully … the Sybarite's moral compass was a hard thing to grasp. It was sometimes difficult to remember Ylena and Aureliano were over five thousand years old, but that would certainly lend a very different perspective on life than most people were used to.

"Doctor." Helen turned to see Aureliano suddenly standing beside her. He immediately dropped to his knees, taking her hand. "I was much aggrieved at the news of your death. I am so glad my sorrow was unfounded."

Helen blushed slightly at the outpouring, and Aureliano slid into the vacant chair. He pushed a strand of golden hair behind his ear, it reached his shoulders now, and looked at Helen earnestly. "To what do we owe your company? And how is William?"

"He enjoys your postcards very much. He was excited to see you next month." Helen found his earnest nature endearing.

"Was?" Aureliano looked hurt. "He isn't coming anymore?"

Helen looked around nervously. She was a fish out of water here, she did not know what would be out of place in this quaint little bar. "How many ears do we have here?" she asked instead.

They understood immediately, and Aureliano went still for a moment, listening. "Too many. Whisper under your breath, we will still hear you."

The Sanctuary has been attacked. We are being sabotaged by someone in the network. We have to focus on that right now.

Aureliano and Ylena both exhaled sharply at the same time, growls rising from their throats. Despite some withheld secrets, Helen felt heartened that the Sybarites were still firmly loyal to the Sanctuary. Ylena looked at Aureliano, and they both stared at each other in silence for a moment. Helen understood they were having a conversation purely through a complex and subtle language comprised entirely of facial movements.

Aureliano sighed deeply, and then looked back at Helen. She could tell from his body language that he did this reluctantly, but there was no resentment towards her. "I am not bound by the same duty as Ylena, though I have observed it as such."

Aureliano beckoned Helen closer and whispered into her ear, "Right now is the season for Chilean cabernet. There are certain wineries that celebrate the uncorking of the year's first bottles."

"Thank you…"

Aureliano and Ylena both clasped her hands at the same time. "We may have changed since last we met, but our memories are too good to forget a friend," Ylerin said affectionately, lightly teasing her.

Helen was again struck by the feeling of being in the presence of two very old beings – a feeling that was very rare for her especially. Aureliano suddenly snapped his fingers as if just recalling something, and dug a postcard out of his pocket.

It was of a man being chased by a hippopotamus. Aureliano had scribbled "Will" on the man's t-shirt. He grinned and said, "Give this to William please?"

"Gracias…" Nikola leaned back into his chair, pushing up the sunglasses perched on his nose. He gently swirled the wine in the tasting glass. The sun was warm instead of blisteringly hot, and a balmy breeze weaved through the leafy grape vines.

He didn't believe in heaven, but this was close enough to it.

"What do you think of the white, señor?" The owner of the vineyard brought over the opened bottle, setting it down to breathe.

Nikola sighed happily. "I think you don't make enough of it." He was one of only a few private investors in the vineyard, and he enjoyed the input it allowed him in the creative process.

The quality sampling was a distinctively enjoyable perk too.

"It is a dying race of men, señor, that can appreciate the more sophisticated joys of life."

Nikola grinned; he enjoyed this man immensely. He closed his eyes and basked in the sun. He felt nothing save the gentle warmth on his face. He tasted nothing except the lingering acidity on his tongue. He heard nothing except for the gentle creak of swaying vines and the soft fall of footsteps.

Footsteps?

Nikola leaned his head forward and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair. The row of grape vines rustled as someone approached the clearing. Nikola stared in silent wonder as Helen slipped out from swaying vines, waxy leaves caressing her face and blood-red globes falling to the ground at her feet. She looked like a mirage shimmering in a desert. At first he wasn't sure if she were even real.

But there she was, in the flesh. And to her surprise, he tossed his glass to the ground with a curse and got up from his chair. Before she could call out, he briskly walked away and vanished into the vineyard.

Bemused, Helen stood in shock before her brain finally caught up and she plunged in after him.

"Nikola, wait." She caught up to him in the small forest of grape vines and took hold of his arm. He suddenly whirled around to face her, livid.

"You're supposed to be dead!"

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you really that sore that I've used one of your favourite party tricks?"

He stood silently fuming. Helen was flabbergasted, this certainly wasn't the reaction she had expected. When he refused to say anything, she slapped him smartly across the cheek. "You're supposed to be dead too. You've let me go a year thinking we buried you in that temple!"

"Was the funeral as nice as the last one?" he sneered.

Helen shook with rage. "I cannot believe you, Nikola."

They stared at each other in a standstill; both furious, both proud, and Helen realized that they wouldn't get anywhere like this. She dug into her bag and slapped the bottle of wine into his hand.

"I got that when I thought you were in Argentina."

Nikola looked at her warily, before allowing himself to examine the label. "Ah … I know this brewer. His zinfandel's better."

Helen sighed and crouched, finding a spot to sit on the ground. "Just open the bloody thing."

Still wary, and she wished she knew where his trepidation was coming from, he slowly sat down beside her and uncorked the bottle with a sharp tug of his teeth. He drank a mouthful from the neck, then passed the bottle to her.

"What are you doing here, Nikola?" Helen asked, taking a deep sip from the bottle. "How are you even here?"

Nikola shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm working. Obviously. And finally making some money from my inventions, too. It's only taken a century…"

"How are you still alive?"

Nikola's face darkened and he shot back petulantly, "How are you?"

"I asked first!"

"Well, I have only one thing to say to that." Nikola blew a wet raspberry at her, and then in a sulk drank more wine.

Helen hung her head with a sigh. He was absolutely impossible sometimes. She grabbed the bottle from him, it was already a quarter gone, and drank some more before he could finish it all to himself. "That was quite some lights show I got for my funeral."

Nikola looked away from her, but she thought she had seen him wince. Curious. She reached for his shoulder, but he shrugged her away. "No flirting … and you haven't tried to kiss me once. I'm almost insulted."

He smirked a little at that, but still couldn't look at her. He sighed instead and worked out a pinched muscle in his neck, flexing his hands. "I don't like being caught off-guard – it's distracting, I suppose. Rest assured, you still look great for two-hundred."

"One hundred and sixty."

"Women."

Helen finally laughed, missing the way they bickered at each other. He was reminding her now more of the snarky, glib young man she had known at Oxford. Her friend. He reached over and cradled his hand against her cheek, a torn look on his face. When he spoke his voice was deadly quiet.

"Why are you here?"

Helen blinked in confusion, unsure of his question. "I wanted to see you, I wanted to know you were actually alive."

"But why? What were you thinking of doing when you found me?"

"I – I …" Helen stammered.

"You don't know." Nikola finished for her. "Are you here to take me back? Back to Old City? Back to the Sanctuary?"

She found herself unable to speak, unable to move as Nikola brushed a stray lock of her hair away from her face. He then dropped his hand, recoiling as if he were burnt. "I won't come back, sorry to disappoint."

"Why not?" she blurted out before realizing.

His brow furrowed, concern uncharacteristically naked on his face. "Are you in trouble? Are you in danger?"

Helen wished she could tell him everything that had happened. Drop the assured, confident front she had to keep up in front of her team. Tell him she was scared of what was happening to her. Scared of her faceless adversary and that everything she had worked so hard for could be taken away.

But something, perhaps her pride, kept her from unburdening herself. She still didn't know what he was keeping from her. Why he had decided to vanish again without a word.

Nikola saw she wasn't going to respond and a shadow fell over his face. Some of his biting sarcasm returned. "Just force of habit then. I'm afraid I can't indulge you at this time, Helen. You'll need to find someone else to banter with. Maybe Druitt's developed a sense of humour."

His words stung more than she cared to admit, and she felt her face harden. "It's a refreshing change from your barbarous wit."

Nikola laughed mirthlessly, clutching his heart as if she had wounded him. "Ah, the lady still has bite. I'm proud of you. Enjoy your holiday and make sure you pay your respects to the proprietor." Nikola got to his feet, brushing dirt from his pant legs. Helen refused his offered hand and rose to her feet without aid. She turned from him and made her way out of the vineyard, biting back a frustrated scream.

When she chanced a look over her shoulder, there was no sign of him amongst the forest of vines.