Mortal Hearts
By Juli
December 1998
Part 7/9
For disclaimer and warnings, see Part 1.
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It felt decidedly macabre, coming away so happy from a woman's deathbed. But Derek knew that, of all people, Mary Locke wouldn't begrudge him his joy.
Derek hurriedly made his way back to the rented cottage and the by-now worried Alex and Rachel. The Precept had been gone much longer than they'd thought his walk would take him. Both women were taken aback to see him stride up the path with such energy and exuding such an attitude of rejoicing. This was not the same dejected man that had left that morning.
"Derek where have you been? We were worried sick--" Rachel's chiding was broken off by a squeal of surprise as the Dutchman picked her up and twirled her around.
Derek set Rachel down and grabbed Alex, dancing her around the room as he started his disjointed explanation. "Songs, Alex! We looked at legends, at fairytales, and at old Legacy journals but we neglected the songs!"
"Derek Rayne you stop this instant and explain!" Rachel was terrified. This behavior was totally unlike the normally-reserved Precept. Had his mind broken under the stress and grief?
Derek let a breathless Alex go and tried to settle down long enough to explain. "'The Ballad of Tam Lin.' Mary Locke just reminded me of it. It's a 13th Century Scottish ballad and It. Describes. How. A. Woman. Saves. Her. Lover. From. The. Sidhe." Derek's enunciation was exaggerated, but now was no time to lapse into his native Dutch, as he was wont to do when excited.
"Mary Locke?" Alex asked, "Is she still alive?"
The question knocked some of the wind out of Derek's sails and he calmed down considerably. "No, not any more."
Rachel let out an exasperated breath. "Okay, Derek, I think you're going to have to start from the beginning."
So he did.
By the time the Dutchman was done with his story of the day's events--and what Mary's tale had prompted him to remember about Tam Lin, the women were as excited as he was. By evening, Alex had found no less than fourteen variations on the ballad through database searches. The difficulty then became sifting through what was based on fact and what could be attributed to poetic license. Undaunted, the trio decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning. Even though he hadn't slept much since Nick was taken, Derek found it hard to rest. He had made a decision and knew that his friends would not take it well. At breakfast, Derek dropped the bombshell. Characteristically, Rachel's protests were the loudest.
"What do you mean, you want us to go back to San Francisco!"
"Rachel, I never thought I'd have to be the one to have to remind you that you have a young daughter to take care of." As Rachel sputtered in indignation, Derek turned to the younger woman. "Alex, I need you to keep an eye on the San Francisco House. Frederick can hold down the fort, but not forever." Seeing that both women were not about to let up with their protests, the Dutchman tried to explain. "I appreciate you wanting to stay. But everything we've found out about Tam Lin and the Sidhe indicates that we won't have a chance to rescue Nick until the dark of the moon. That won't happen for nearly three weeks. There's no sense in all of us staying here."
Alex put a hand on his arm. "I don't like the thought of leaving you
alone."
"We want to be here for you, Derek," Rachel added, "Besides, I was thinking of having my sister fly Kat out here anyway."
"Thank you, my friends," The Dutchman was grateful for their support and touched by their offers of putting their own lives on hold in order to help him. "But I'm okay now that I know we'll get Nick back."
"But what about the research--" Rachel's protest might have been first and loudest, but Alex was the more persistent of the two.
"We can keep in touch through the link William set up. Look, I'm fully expecting the two of you to come back when the moon turns. I just need to be able to concentrate on how best to approach this and I'll focus better if I know the two of you are taking care of things back home....."
There was no real argument that Derek's colleagues could offer to that statement and the two women headed back to San Francisco the next day.
Scotland was a land known to be inhabited by ghosts and the town of Glasmonadh gained a new one over the next few weeks. A very much alive, decidedly Dutch, figure haunted the town. He knew his presence was unnerving the locals, but the Precept wasn't about to let them forget what they'd done to Nick.
Derek found himself restless. He simply could not stay cooped up in the cottage doing research. So, the Precept worked out a system with Alex whereby she would do research in San Francisco and forward the pertinent information to Glasmonadh via their satellite link. Derek would download it and take the printouts with him on his daily rambles. He invariably ended up at the Sidhe ring, where he would read the reports out loud to the empty circle. The Dutchman felt closer to his lover there and liked to think that Nick was listening to his voice. It was a fanciful notion and most likely not true, but it eased Derek's loneliness a bit.
The Precept also attended Mary Lock's funeral, profoundly grateful that she had been so determined to show him how to save his love.
One way or another, by sudden leaps and agonizing inches, the time until the next dark moon passed. Soon, the members of the San Francisco House were gathering in Glasmonadh once again. Only, this time the women had brought a welcome addition with them.
"Philip!" Derek greeted the young priest enthusiastically, hugging him around the bulk of a large package the Irishman was carrying. "I didn't expect for you to be here."
Philip had been assigned to a parish in Ireland and, while he had kept in frequent touch with Derek since Nick's disappearance, the Precept had also refused his company during his hellish wait for the moon to reach the appropriate cycle.
"I had ta come, I have somethin' for ya."
Once they reached the cottage, Philip unwrapped his mysterious package carefully. As the brown paper was torn away and the box opened, folded green cloth was revealed. The priest lifted it out of the box carefully.
The item was a green mantle similar to the one most versions of "The Ballad of Tam Lin" described the fair Janet using to rescue her lover. Derek reached over and fingered it gingerly, the wool material scratchy against his finger tips.
"Where did you get this?"
Father Callaghan blushed. "Do you remember th' time I was doin' some research at the London House?"
"Yes, that was before Nick joined the team."
"Right. I remembered when I was there that this was brought in."
"A cloak?" By now, Rachel was also closely examining the garment.
"Aye. You see, this mantle was discovered in the collection o' a Scottish matron. It's dated as bein' over 600 years old."
"That's impossible," Alex stated, "a wool garment like this wouldn't survive that long. Not is this condition." Indeed, the mantle did look to be in perfect shape.
"I wouldn'a know about that. I just thought that, well, if Derek needs a green cloak ta help Nick, that this one would be a good one ta have."
Derek clasped hands with his young colleague. "It was a good thought, Philip, thank you. I'm surprised, though, that Sloan would let you borrow it." William was not as understanding as Derek about Philip's on-again/off-again relationship with the Legacy.
Philip's blush deepened. "Well, I didn'a exactly ask to borrow it, if ya get m' meanin'....."
Derek stared at the priest in shock. "You *stole* this from the London House."
"Aye. You know how stingy Sloan is w' artifacts. I didn't want to take th' chance he'd refuse." Philip seemed singularly unrepentant. "I'll ask fer forgiveness in confession--*after* we get Nick back."
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Although Philip wasn't the only one quietly determined to do *whatever* it took to get Nick back, Derek received no protests when he announced that he would be proceeding to the Sidhe site alone. They'd all done enough research to know that if Derek were to succeed, he would have to take the fairy hunt by surprise. Alone he had a better of going undetected and ccomplishing that task. No one liked it, but the necessity was unmistakable.
Finally, it was the first moonless night in February. It had been one month and an eternity since Nick had disappeared. Derek felt as though he'd aged centuries in the last few weeks. Certainly he had a new gray hair or two. He hoped that his lover found that it made him look more distinguished. But, then again, as long as Nick was safely back, he didn't really care what the young man thought of his new hairstyle. If his lover was safe, the Dutchman would gladly dye his hair or even shave all off if that's what the ex-SEAL wanted.
That afternoon, Philip performed a private mass for them. Partly because Christianity had always been an anathema to the Shining Ones, but mostly to give them strength for the struggle ahead. Especially Derek. Derek prayed for strength, primarily for the strength to rescue Nick but also for the courage to continue on if the worst happened and he failed. If Nick were to be doomed to spend 50 years with the Sidhe, the Precept wanted to be there when he came back. He'd be damned if Nick would be dumped in the forest, old, unknown, and confused as had happened to the unfortunate Willis Bridie.
As the Dutchman prepared for his confrontation with the creatures that had taken his love from him, he felt like a knight girding for war. As Alex helped settle the mantle over his shoulders, every movement seemed to take on the significance of ritual. Smiling, Rachel stepped forward and brushed the hair out of the Dutchman's eyes. Even with the possibility of winning Nick back, Derek had become too distracted to put much care into his appearance and he was a unusually shaggy. The blonde stepped up on tiptoe and kissed the end of Derek's nose.
"Bring him home."
"That's the idea." Since Nick wasn't here to do it, the Precept decided that *someone* had to make the smart-ass comments. The Dutchman gave one last fond look at his closest friends and turned to go.
"God speed, Derek." Philip called after him.
The Precept thought it an omen that Philip used the same phrase that Mary Locke had urged him with on the night Nick was taken.
He just wished he could figure out if it was a good or bad one.
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