by Carol Roi
"Damn, Lobo, you've put on weight."
Joel had finally gotten the door open, and after helping Jim inside, he turned around to give Dee a hand. She shook her head and turning sideways, carried Blair through the door and across the loft to his bedroom. She set him down gently on the bed, very glad they had come back to the loft that morning and finished cleaning up the broken glass, as well as having a repairman replace the window. Sitting down next to him on the futon, she began to work on his shoelaces.
Taggart poked his head in the door. "Everything under control in here?"
She looked up at him. "Yeah, we're fine. I'm just going to put him to bed. What happened?"
The big man shrugged. "I'm not sure. He says Ms. Eolia beat him up in your apartment, but he and Jim were both found unconscious clear across town. They went by ambulance to the hospital, and released themselves AMA. They're both pretty doped up."
"That would explain the mess I found when I got home. I just figured I'd had another break-in." She dropped one sneaker on the floor and started on the other. "You know, Joel, I think I have it covered here. I'll make sure they both get to bed, and stay with them the rest of the night."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, Joel, I'm sure. It's--" she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "--Christmas morning. Go home, be with your family."
"Well, okay, but only since you're sure. Lock the door when I leave, all right?"
Dee nodded her response, and the man left Blair's bedroom. She could hear him talking quietly to Jim as she undressed Blair and managed to get him under the covers. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead tenderly, and was just about to leave when he said, "Dee?"
"Yes, honey?"
"S'rry bout Lee...if I'd st'pped 'er, she wouldn't be..." The blue eyes gazing up at her were cloudy with both physical and emotional pain.
She bent back over him, hugging him gently. "Not your fault, baby. Nobody's fault, just the quirks of the Game. She knew the risks when she went to meet him."
"But..."
"No. If there's any blame to be placed, it goes on my shoulders. Now close your eyes and go to sleep, Lobo." She'd apologize tomorrow for leaving him lying in the snow back at the park, unconscious.
His eyelids drooping, Blair gave her a big yawn. She sat with him for the few minutes it took for him to go to sleep, listening to Joel leave, and the sounds of the sentinel moving around quietly in the next room. She tucked the blanket a little closer around Blair and got to her feet. She was almost out of the room when it dawned on her Jim didn't know what had happened at the park. Blair knew what the two Quickenings meant, but Jim had no idea Eolia was dead.
Steeling herself, she entered the other room, quickly locating Jim leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his eyes closed, a bottle of water forgotten in his hand. Dee approached him slowly, not wanting to add to the pain she could see in the lines around his eyes. But it was better the news come from her. "Jim..."
His head swiveled toward the sound of her voice, and his eyes opened slowly. "How is he?"
"Asleep. He'll be fine. I'll help him in the morning."
Ellison took a small sip of water. "Thanks." There was a pause as he drank a little more.
She found herself just blurting it out. "I'm so sorry, Jim."
He blinked at her quizzically. "About what? Did you see Lee? Is she okay?"
She felt her insides clench, and she brought a hand up to her mouth to hold back the scream she feared was just below the surface. Blinking back tears, she finally replied, "She's gone, Jim. I didn't get there in time."
The color drained from the sentinel's face, then he shook his head. "No, you have to be mistaken. She can't be gone."
Diandra had to force the words past her unwilling tongue. Some part of her thought that if she didn't say them, it wouldn't be true. "He took her head, Jim. She's gone."
His face grew even paler, and she could hear him take a shaky breath. "Took her head?"
Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "She was Immortal. I'm so sorry."
The bottle of water dropped to the floor as Jim pushed roughly past her and into the bathroom. She tried to close her ears to the noise of him being sick, but her hearing was suddenly wide open, and she heard every agonizing sound. Sliding down the front of the fridge, she leaned her forehead on her knees, very aware of the fact she was shaking violently.
The toilet flushed, water ran in the sink, then footsteps approached her. She didn't bother to look up, not wanting to see the accusation in his eyes.
His words, when they came, were sharp. "How old was she? Was she a student of yours?"
As if she would let a student fight in her stead willingly. She shot him an angry glare. "She was my age. She was the first Immortal I ever met. I rescued her from a life of slavery and sacrifice."
Something in her expression must have affected him, because he extended a hand to her. Grasping it, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Dee, please. Tell me about her. I need to know."
The Immortal shook her head. "Not tonight, Jim. I can't do this tonight. It hurts too much. And we're both exhausted." She gave him a push toward the stairs. "Upstairs. Bed." She walked with him as far as the couch, then watched him climb unsteadily.
He paused halfway up, looking back over his shoulder at her. "She died well, didn't she? Just tell me that, and I'll try to sleep."
Diandra chewed her lip for a moment, then said, "She died trying to protect Blair and me." He didn't need to know she had lost her life trying to teach Brad a lesson. Lia never had understood you couldn't teach a dead man anything. She watched him climb the rest of the way to his room, and listened to him lay down on the bed. Within a few moments, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep.
Tiptoeing up the stairs, Dee found him passed out on top of the bedspread. She snagged a blanket from the closet and draped it over him. Going back downstairs, she wrapped herself in the afghan from the back of the loveseat, and curled up on the sofa.
Sleep, however, eluded her. Memories flooded her mind, moments from thousands of years past suddenly as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. Tears forced their way between closed eyelids, blazing hot trails down her cheeks. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, ignoring the emotions churning inside her. This was ridiculous! She'd lost friends before, mortal and Immortal, to the Game, old age, disease, war. People lived and died around her every day, just as they always had. Why then, did it hurt so much tonight?
Because it could have been you, the voice inside her whispered, despite your long life, your experience, your skills. A twist of fate, and it could be you lying in the morgue.
"Angel?" It was the barest of whispers, but she heard it clearly. "I know you're hurting, Dee. I can feel what you're going through. You don't have to be alone."
Rising she walked into Blair's room to find him propped up on the pillows, his eyes shining in the darkness, his expression one of love and concern. He patted the space next to him on the small bed. She lay down beside him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder, and carefully wrapping an arm around his waist at his urging.
"Even though you parted ways years ago, angel, Eolia was an important part of your life, an important part of who you are. It's okay to grieve, to let it out. You're safe here with me." He ran his fingers lightly over her cheek, and she gave in to the pain she was feeling, sobbing quietly against his shoulder until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Part 24
He didn't want to leave, but he had a few more jobs to do if he was going to successfully close the Chronicle on Eolia. Looking at the set of keys that Diandra had handed him, Jan-Michel LaFollet noted the worn emblem on one of the keys. Leaping over the fence that surrounded the park, he started looking for a car that would match up with the keys in his hand. A block and a half away from where Lee had parked the Lexus, he found it. A beat up, raggedy looking, dark colored AMC Gremlin. Oh well, Immortals that didn't have much in the way of liquid assets coul
dn't be too choosy. Opening the driver's side door, he slipped in behind the wheel, pushed the seat back as far as it could go, started the engine and, placing the manual transmission into first gear, took off.
After he'd been driving the wreck of a car for ten minutes, maybe more, he pulled into a closed gas station's well lit parking area and started going through the car, looking for anything that would tell him where Bradley Ventriss had been holed up for the past week.
The young, now dead, Immortal hadn't been the neatest of people, leaving trash in the car to pile up to where the interior looked like a pack-rat's haven. But his search did turn up several matchbooks, all stamped with the logo of a motel. The Ranch-O-Motel. "More like "Roach-O, if the inside of this car is any indication."
Pulling out his Watcher issued cell phone, he made what would be his first phone call of many. "Brianna? Sorry for calling so late, I need your help."
Brianna Stertz was able to give him the address to the motel and, after thanking her and promising a full report by Thursday evening, he started the Gremlin back up and headed for the hotel. One of the other items that Diandra Pallas had handed him had been a large key with the number "13" stamped into the metal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Just what I thought it would look like," Jan-Michel muttered under his breath as he pulled into the parking lot of the Ranch-O-Motel. The buildings had seen better days, but not in the past several years and most of the rooms at either end of the horseshoe shaped building were obviously abandoned. Windows on several of the units were boarded up and the few cars that were parked there... well, the Gremlin fit right in. Parking outside of the door marked with a crooked, handpainted 13, he got out of the car and approached the door as if he belonged there.
The key fit, and with a twist of his wrist, LaFollet entered the unit and flipped on the lights. He almost wished he hadn't. The place was just as messy, if not more so, than the inside of the car had been. "Well it's obvious you never had to clean up after yourself, Brad. But, if I were you, and was the thief that stole the DVD-RAM from your father's company, where would I hide it?"
Wishing that he'd had the foresight to bring along a pair of latex gloves, Jan-Michel LaFollet started to toss the pig-sty of a room, looking for the drive that could clear his boss' name and maybe, just maybe, sink QuestScape once and for all.
His search of the main room turned up nothing except a rat's nest, complete with little baby rats, and a whole colony of roaches. Turning his sights on the bathroom, Jan smiled. "Oh, you wouldn't have been that stupid, would you, Bradley?"
Like the rest of the hotel, the bathroom had seen better days. The mirror above the rust stained sink was cracked, barely hanging on the wall, and the once white tiles on the floor were worn through in several spots. Lifting the lid on the back of the toilet, peering down into the blackened tank, he found what he was looking for. Flushing the commode to drain the tank, he pulled the plastic wrapped item out.
Pulling a pocketknife from his trouser pocket, he slit the plastic open and unwrapped the item concealed inside. The box shaped DVD-RAM, complete with the QuestScape logo on the front, sat inside the wrap. Being very careful not to touch the device with his bare hands, Jan-Michel folded the plastic around it once more and left the hovel.
Recalling his conversation with his 'boss' in the Watcher organization, he pondered whether or not to turn the DVD over to Brianna Stertz, who'd turn it over to her contacts in the Department of Defense. Or should he hand it over to the detectives working the break-in at QuestScape, Connor and Ellison? Glancing at his watch, he decided to cruise by the park to see if, after two hours, the police were done there. And if they weren't? He'd ditch the Gremlin within six blocks of the Econo-Lodge and rest until morning, when he'd make his decision.
He spotted the flashing emergency lights before he got within two blocks of the place where Lee Eolia had died. Turning away from the scene, he headed back to his hotel. He wanted a drink, to wash the grief away, or to drown it out, but he'd made a promise to Lee. And even though the woman was gone, he wouldn't break his word.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Megan got off the elevator on the third floor, trudging down the hall to Dee's loft. She knew she probably should have headed home from the station, but she was exhausted, and her friend's place was 15 minutes from the PD, and her's was 30 in the other direction. Digging through her purse, she came up with her keys and unlocked the door. Walking inside, she was surprised to see the place had been restored to its neat appearance, minus the coffee table and rug. Cleaning up the evidence, she thought. Like you're one to judge. She'd done her own share of lying to hide what had really happened that night. Hell, she really didn't know what had happened. She'd answered all of Banks' questions with "I don't know." To add to the confusion, Jan-Michel had never returned, and Megan really didn't want to know what Dee had been burning. She had her suspicions, but...
Sighing, she crossed the studio and climbed the stairs to Dee's room. From the illumination coming through the skylight, she could tell the bed hadn't been slept in. Okay, where in the hell was she, if she wasn't here? If Dee had run out on her--she shook her head. Dee was probably across the hall with Blair and Jim. Oh, god, Jim! How would he take the news of Eolia's death? They'd seemed pretty cozy when she'd seen them the night before. Going back downstairs, she crossed the hall to 307.
Letting herself in, she paused for a moment in the darkened loft, getting her bearings. She peeked into Blair's room first, finding her missing champion curled up next to the guide, both sleeping peacefully. As long as she was here, she might as well check on Jim. Climbing the stairs quietly, she paused at the top, letting her eyes adjust. Jim was stretched out on the bed, covered with a blanket, looking like he'd fallen asleep where he'd dropped, and hadn't moved since. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.
Megan left the apartment and crossed the hall again. Climbing into bed in the guest room, she was soon asleep.
The sound of labored breathing woke Dee the next morning. She rose up on one elbow, gazing worriedly at Blair. Damn it! She knew she should have gone back out to the couch. During the night she'd assumed her usual position in bed with him, sprawled over his chest. Blair, in his drugged sleep, hadn't woken up to push her off. Now he strained to breathe through the ache of his broken ribs and bruised sternum. Though still asleep, his face was lined with pain.
Better to do this now, while he was out. Sitting up, Dee held her hands over his chest, pushing her Quickening through her fingers and into his body, selectively healing the damage to his ribs while leaving the brilliant purple and green bruising on his face alone. Too many people had seen him last night for her to erase that injury. She heard him moaning softly as she worked, but whatever drugs he'd been given at the hospital continued to do their work, and he didn't waken. When she finished, the lines were gone from his face, and he was breathing much easier.
Getting out of bed, Dee stretched and looked at the clock. 11:30 am. Damn, she rarely ever slept this late. She extended her hearing, checking on Jim. She smiled at the sound of his soft snores, then her grin faded. Today was not going to be fun. Somehow celebrating the holiday and happily exchanging gifts seemed hypocritical in light of the things she'd done the night before. Penance was more in order. A long, hard workout and a couple hours meditation might help her get over the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Exiting Jim's apartment, she crossed the hall to her own, automatically reaching for the sword she wasn't carrying at a noise from her kitchen. Megan appeared around the corner, a cup of tea in her hand. "Bloody hell, Dee! Make some noise, would you?"
Relaxing a fraction, Dee shrugged, then headed into the studio, still intent on doing a few katas. "Sorry, didn't realize you came back here last night. What time did you get in?"
Megan followed the older woman into the studio and sat down cr
oss-legged on a bench, taking a sip of her tea. "About 1 am. I found the three of you asleep and just decided to go ahead and crash over here without disturbing you."
Dee began a series of stretches, knowing there was probably more on her companion's mind, but not eager to answer any questions about the night before. She moved into a half-speed kata, waiting for Megan to continue. After several minutes of silence, her patience was rewarded.
"What in the hell happened last night, Dee? Why did you go tearing off when Jim and Sandy were obviously hurt?"
The Immortal turned from facing the mirrors to facing Megan, but continued smoothly through her routine. "What did you expect me to do? I've just killed Ventriss, I'm covered in my own blood, am carrying a bloody sword, and you want me to stay around while the police show up? Even without my being there, I know I'm the prime suspect in Captain Banks' mind."
Megan frowned. "Yeah, he did mention it was awfully convenient that you weren't there."
