Children of the Star

Summary: Searching for the truth behind myths and legends wasn't an easy job. Interpretation was not the best tool to decipher long lost cyphers and stories. But as Nigel and Sydney delve deeper into this particular legend, personal interpretation is likely the only thing that might save their lives.

Disclaimer:This is a fan-fiction story of theTV show;Relic Hunter and is in no way affiliated with the actualshow. All characters andother materials related to theshowthat are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not , any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.

Authors Note:It's been a while. I know. I have no excuse – life happened. Turns out I have ADHD which in this case literally translates to "Ooh Squirrel!" *darts off with short attention span in tow* - So that explains a few things. Its no excuse. But it does explain my chaotic neglect of updating stories. My bad.

To my most loyal reader, you know who you are . This one's for you.

Let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any constructive criticism to make please do itpolitely. There is no reason to be rude and insulting when you disagree or don't like other's works of fiction.

Chapter Four:

"Has he said anything?"

"No. Nothing of use anyway. I don't think he knows anything."

"You're sure?"

"Look at him. He's a baby with pain. If he knew something we'd have known long before I had to resort to torture."

"Damnit."

Two voices spoke just outside his door. One was deep and full of authority, clearly a boss of some description. The other was more demure, clearly not in a position to go against his conversational partner of the moment. A goon then?

Though Preston was sure they were outside the room he was being held prisoner in, he knew that the door had a barred opening toward the top of the iron construct through which they were watching him from. The room itself was a far cry from the opulent grandiose he'd been expecting to sleep in after the charity ball, its dingy ambience, and stone walled décor left a damp feeling all over. There were no windows, no natural light, and only one doorway which was secured with the aforementioned iron door, locked from the outside of course.

For now though, they stood outside the room that had been his home for the past few days, seemingly confident that Preston could offer them no information relating to their sanity-forsaken quest. Though, if Preston were being honest, he wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been at the mercy of the brutes that had taken him from the lobby of the Mayfair in London.

That aside, Preston could hear the conversation plain as day. They thought he was out cold, and truthfully he had been until just now. His honest replies had apparently needed verifying with pain, and while Preston wasn't much for pain, he was able to withhold at least one piece of information that he had gathered over the years since his parent's death. He had held onto it until he'd passed out.

They'd had a secret. One not even Nigel knew about. Though Preston suspected that was because his little brother was too young to notice. But there had been signs of unrest within their relationship, he'd seen them. They hadn't known that Preston had noticed, and he had no idea what their secrets were about, but he knew they were there. And they were both obsessed with a particular door at the Astraea Manor. One that only his mother could use.

Thinking back on it now, Preston tried to recall how that was possible. He could clearly see his mother standing before the door, and then she was walking through it. But when their father tried, the door was solid. Just as it was when Preston touched it after his father had stormed away in a fit of frustration. After all these years, he'd just assumed he'd dreamt the whole thing.

But now…

"Where's the younger brother?" The boss asked.

That question halted all his thoughts and panic gripped his heart. They couldn't possibly think that Nigel would know anything…

"At the Manor, but he's heavily guarded. The police have the place surrounded." The goon replied.

A moment of relief helped to calm Preston a little, but he knew these weren't the type of people to be deterred for long. The missing fingernails on his left hand were a testament to that.

"It'll be difficult to get to him." The goon continued.

"But not impossible." The boss reassured, and that sent a shiver down Preston's spine.

"There is another issue." The goon added, almost reluctantly.

"What's that?" The boss asked, impatience slipping into his tone.

"The hunter is with him. Ms Fox." The goon responded with an air of dismay.

And Preston was even more relieved. Sydney would never let anything happen to Nigel. And with a bit of luck, she might be able to end his own entrapment and put these bastards in their proper place.

"Damn. She is going to be trouble." The boss hissed quietly. The sound of shuffling feet found Preston's ears and he imagined that the boss was pacing a little.

"Very troublesome, sir." The goon agreed, voice devoid of emotion. Just like how he'd been when he'd been pulling Preston's finger nails off, one by one…

"What about our inside guy, Garriott?" The boss asked a few seconds later. And Preston felt his world tilt a little. Garriott. Jeremiah Garriott. The Bailey's family lawyer. Was an "inside guy"? What did that even mean? A spy? A traitor? An informant?

"Might it be a bit too soon to pull him into this, sir?" The goon asked, an edge of worry finally creeping into the man's voice.

The footsteps started up again and Preston heard them tap closer to his prison. He felt cold eyes staring at him through the door. "We'll let the Master decide." He said before his footsteps started to slowly head away from the room Preston was locked away in. His voice echoed loudly down the hall though, and the older Bailey could hear every word, as he was likely intended to. "If we don't do something about Ms Fox, we'll never get to the younger brother. And if the older brother knows nothing… the younger brother will have to be questioned intensely too. Between them, they should know something."

No. Preston tried to find his voice, he tried to open his eyes and beg them to leave Nigel alone, but their footsteps were already out of ear shot.

All he could do was hope that Sydney kept his little brother safe.

It had been 1:47am in the UK when Sydney had called Derek, which was four hours ahead of Langley, where the CIA headquarters was based. 21:47. What Derek had been doing at the CIA office at almost 22:00 was classified to most of the public. His previous case before finding the Bailey one on his desk had been a long-winded one that he'd just returned from. He hadn't really taken any time to close his previous case properly or draw up the paperwork. And they'd been expected the following morning. So, playing paperwork tag had been the 'official' primary reason he was at the CIA office so late. But when the night shift clerk had dropped off the new Bailey case, Derek had practically dropped everything.

Normally, foreign cases like the Bailey's case were left to the local authorities to handle, in this instance the UKs own version of the CIA - MI5, or Interpol. However, because of who the kidnappers might be, the CIA had decided to take a closer look. The way the kidnapping had been staged, the evidence left behind, and the cryptic messages left on the wall of the room that Preston had been staying in, all matched a few high-profile cold cases that the CIA were still trying to solve today. And, as the CIA had more cases that dated further back in history than the UK, it was protocol that the CIA should be on the UK based cases to work alongside their teams on the cases.

And someone in the offices above him had clearly remembered Derek's own connection with the Bailey family in question. But having read through the case report in the first hour of the flight, Derek was loathe to discover that MI5 would also be working with Interpol on the case. In all his years of working with the CIA, there was one Interpol agent who had decided he was incompetent and not worth his salary. He hoped to all the powers that were watching that he did not have to work with her again.

Derek had managed to catch the 10:32pm flight to Heathrow, which was a seven-hour non-stop flight. Just a little jet-lagged, Derek had landed in London at 6.57am local time. And after heralding a taxi, which took longer than it would have done back in the states, Derek was finally arriving at the Astraea Manor.

Derek hadn't been sure of what to expect of a place called Astraea Manor. He'd been to a fair few 'manors' and each had a different idea of what a manor was.

This, however, was certainly a surprise. Especially as he'd considered Nigel to be a low-income TA who was originally only working to pass his doctorate. He'd no idea that Nigel had come from a family of money. Though he had guessed at such after having read the Case File for Preston Bailey, but to see the grandiose wealth that the old manor house screamed, was beyond anything he'd imagined. It was a beautiful house, with old style beam work, and solid oaken doors. Shutters on the windows. Lead lined and stained-glass windows, with a landscape that disappeared into the far distance. The driveway alone was impressive with its tall arching trees, and topiary shaped bushes. There was even a water fountain feature on the front green, set a few meters away from the front gate where the local police had stopped his taxi.

"I'm sorry sir, this is a secured location, I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately." The officer said to Derek's open window without even glancing inside the car. Derek frowned openly; attention to detail was critical when guarding a house or any location. How would the officer identify him at a later date if questioned unless he actually looked at the passengers in the car? Something felt off. UK Police were supposed to be on another level. They could take down criminals armed with only tasers. And their training was much more involved than the usual beat cop in the USA. Derek had worked with UK police before and this officer before him was certainly falling short. This level of protective detail felt too sloppy for his comfort and so Derek made up his mind and opened the car door. No one took half measures when protecting his friend.

However, that's when his day went from bad, to worse. As soon as he stepped a foot out of the car, an entire entourage of officers aimed several taser-guns at him, and everyone started yelling.

"Crap…" he muttered to himself as he raised his hands on instinct. "Syd is gonna love this…"

When Sydney woke, it was a very disorienting feeling. For one, she couldn't remember falling asleep, and for two, she was in a bedroom she didn't immediately recognise. Her memory fluttered back a few seconds later where she recalled watching Nigel sleeping on the very same bed she was laid on, but upon noticing his absence, a flicker of unease wriggled in her belly.

It was 7:15am. Nigel was an early riser most days, but given how emotionally exhausted he'd seemed last night, Sydney had expected a later morning for him this morning. However, it seemed that even exhaustive emotions were not enough to postpone his natural circadian rhythm.

After a quick detour to her own guest room ensuite, and a quick change of attire, Sydney stepped out into the hallway and made to head downstairs. The corridors were like a rabbit's warren in the upper floors, to accommodate all the different rooms she'd guess, and it fascinated her how the building had been designed and that there was always something new that caught her eye every time she stayed here.

It was a surprise then, when, while admiring the internal architecture of the hall that led to the grand staircase, she should spy something that made her stop in her tracks. Crouched behind a large vase and a decorated pillar that stood just before the open banister railing of the balcony that led to the stairs, was her wide-eyed TA. He spotted her a moment later and quickly signalled for her to quiet and listen.

Sydney crouched instantly driven by instanct, her defence mode kicking in before she could register, and she carefully made her way closer to his side.

Low timbre voices echoed up from the hall directly below the balcony.

"Is he quite mad?!" One voice asked, "I've spent decades, do you hear me? Decades spying on these damnable brats, and you want me to just 'out' myself now?" Nigel's hands shook as the speaker admitted his treacherous actions, but Sydney was having rouble recognising the voice. She heard and spoke with quite a few men last night – there had been a lot of people going in and out of the house, but she was certain that this voice was important. She could see Nigel was reeling with the implication that someone had been spying on his family for years, but she couldn't yet tell if he recognised the voice. And to her, all English accents sounded so similar…

"The older brother knows nothing. He's not exactly trained against my particular brand of persuasive discussion, so if he knew anything useful the pompous dick would have squealed like a pig long before the second fingernail." A second voice replied, and Sydney felt her blood run cold. She felt Nigel stiffen beside her, and before he could move or react, she placed her hand on his thigh – the closest thing she could reach without giving either of them away – and gave it a reassuring but warning squeeze. 'Stay calm, stay hidden.' He didn't move, but also didn't relax either. Instead, he placed his own hand on hers and she took it instead of leaving her hand where it was, holding his crumbling world together by holding his hand.

"So what?" The first voice replied, and the familiarity continued to nag at Sydney's memory. "Just because your methods didn't yield results, you think you'll try the same methods on the younger one? Just in case the results change? Nigel hasn't been consistently living in this house since he was packed off to boarding school at the tender age of ten, you really think he'll know more than Preston?" The questions were piling up, but there was more to be said, Sydney could feel it. "If you think I'm going to sacrifice the years it took to get me where I am today, just because the boss had a whimsical thought, you've got another think coming." The tension was thick, and she felt Nigel go rigid. She silently brought his hand up to her chest and held it tight with both of hers, trying to comfort him with as little movement as possible. "I've finally got Nigel right where I need him to be. Here. In the house. Do you know the monumental effort that usually takes? The boy's stubbornness could rival his mothers, and she was as stubborn as they come." There was a pause. Both Nigel and Sydney held their breath. "Let me do my job here, I'll find the damned door and get it to open. It's quite obvious it won't reveal itself to Preston now. I know it exists, and I know that woman wouldn't have created it just to let it rot. She'd make sure her heir would find it and know what to do to open it. And in light of our recent findings, I think we can both agree that the question of the heir is no longer 'Who?' – instead we must find a way to get him to see the door, and then open it. He can't do that locked up in a damp, sewage filled dungeon, wondering when he'll lose the next fingernail."

Quivering with either fear or rage, Nigel made to move, but Sydney held him still. 'Not yet.' She thought, sensing there may be more that would be revealed, but instead, there was a slight scuffle as a third person joined the two mystery speakers.

"Sir, there's an incident at the front gate, an American man is claiming to be CIA and is here on official duty. My colleagues are keen to arrest him, but he's got a genuine badge. How do you want to deal with this?" The sound of one of the men swearing reached the two relic hunters' ears before one of them responded.

"I'm leaving. You deal with this door shit. I'll tell the boss that your new CIA buddy is making extraction difficult. You're lucky we have an excuse here, because if you didn't, I'm not taking the boss's wrath in your place…" The rest of the conversation faded away as the mystery people walked away. Sydney jumped up, patting Nigel's shoulder as she passed trying to get a glimpse of the men who'd been talking, but they were gone. Se considered dropping over the balcony but that'd give her away too, and she needed to be discreet with this situation.

"Nigel," she started as he stood beside her, hands still shaking. "Did you recognise any of the voices?" She asked, turning to face him instead now that seeing the mystery men was no longer an option.

Nigel gripped the banister as he stood beside her. "Yes. I know one of them, that was Jeremiah Garriott." He confirmed before swearing severely under his breath and pacing to the back of the balcony where there was a window in the wall overlooking the front of the house. Sydney could have kicked herself, of course it was. He'd been so suspicious last night, and the vibes were just off in general with him. That little snake!

"All these years…" Sydney turned to her TA who'd folded in on himself on an ottoman bench placed against the window. Sydney moved to him, she was worried that this might be a little too much for Nigel all at once; first discovering his brother had been kidnapped, then the sibling rivalry guilt, and now a traitor among his familial acquaintances. They hadn't even been in the UK for 24hours.

"Nigel, you couldn't have known." She started, hoping he wouldn't take it personally.

"I know, I know. I just… this is all happening so fast Syd, I'm struggling to keep up, let alone process how I feel about all of this." He admitted, sitting up a bit in order to talk with her properly. "And if last night was anything to go by, then I clearly have some work to do on repressed feelings in general." He added, wringing his hands in front of him in order to use up whatever nervous energy had been surging through him just now. "I'm sorry for that by the way. I didn't anticipate that seeing all those officers here, again would set off… I thought I'd dealt with that back when…" he tapered off, unable to verbally say the event he'd been taken back to in his flashback.

"You've nothing to apologise for Nige, I'd have been worried if you didn't have a reaction like that. It's normal." Sydney dismissed, and seeing her TA smile a bit, she decided to change the topic a little. "Do you know what door they were talking about?" She asked, "It seemed like a special door that would stand out." She added. Nigel frowned as he recalled the conversation they'd just eavesdropped on.

"I don't. As far as I remember, the only remarkable door in the entire estate is the front door; it was bought from an old Abbey after it had burned down in the 1800s. The door had remained untouched but every time you open it, it gives off a faint smell of smoke." He replied, trying to recall if there were any other doors that might be of note. Nothing sprung to mind though. "The library on the ground floor might have records though, we could search there." He added, but Sydney shook her head.

"If the door was something that could be recorded like that, I doubt Garriott would have had as much trouble as he mentioned in finding it." She said. Her instinct was telling her this was something like a relic to be hunted and that there was more to this door than was recorded. Before she could continue her thought however, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Fishing it out, she found Derek's caller ID blinking on the screen. "Crap, I forgot he was here…" she muttered to herself, and quickly cast a glance out of the window to the front gate in the distance. There was certainly a level of activity there that wasn't there last night. She quickly knelt down to Nigel's head height and looked him in the eye. "We'll figure this out the same way we figure out all our hunts Nigel. Don't let on to Garriott that we know anything. Our best weapon is to feign ignorance." She emphasised, needing to know he wouldn't go looking for trouble with this new traitorous revelation.

"Yeah, I know. I honestly don't know what I want to say or do to him at this point anyway. And he's a vital link to finding my brother, if we can work out a way to get him to talk or lead us to Preston, then he's better off alive and unaware for now." Nigel agreed, using the logic spoken out loud to ground his mind.

"Good, now I need you to go back to your room and write down what Garriott said about this mystery door and Preston's location while I go get Derek from the front gate." She said and stood when he nodded. "Try not to leave until I get back, I'll bring breakfast up with me." She added, feeling a little strange for effectively grounding him in his own childhood home.

"Wait." His voice stopped her from walking away. She turned to face him, an expectant look upon her features. "You called Derek?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Who else would I call?" She asked, and Nigel fell silent unable to come up with an answer. Sydney gave him a nudge before moving toward the stairs at the end of the balcony. She paused at the top to watch Nigel disappear into the warren of halls before she went down the stairs.

Well, there was one other name she could think of, but Derek was more experienced with relic hunts and the like, so Cate Hemphill would have to take a back seat on this one.

Little did she know...