CHALLENGE FOR THE WEEK OF 05-06-01

TRIO: El Camino Real, pocket watch, scissors

QUOTE 1: Wm. Shakespeare: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds, admit impediments."

QUOTE 2: "The real voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" Marcel Proust

Authors:

Dea, Eliza, Jo, Mala, Maril, Rodlox

MISSING SCENE: PHYSICIAN, HEAL THYSELF

After watching the last scene between Helm and Montoya in "The Pretender" I thought we needed this. :) It's also my challenge story for this week.

CHALLENGE: El Camino Real, pocket watch, scissors
SPOILERS: The Pretender

~~~~~

Tessa watched as Marta pulled the door to her bedroom closed behind her.

"How is he doing?" she asked.

"He's sleeping like the dead," Marta said quietly. "He's had a rough day."

"He's had a rough childhood," Tessa replied, hands on her hips.

A few hours earlier the Queen had watched uncertainly as Andreo Reyes confronted the two people who had been masquerading as his parents for the past 15 years. She had returned later as Tessa Alvarado and convinced the boy that he should stay the night at her hacienda. After what he'd endured the past couple of days, she didn't think he should be alone.

"I'm going out for awhile, Marta," Tessa announced as she headed towards the door that led to the hidden room. "I'll be back later."

"The Queen rides tonight?" Marta asked curiously.

"I just want to go thank Dr. Helm for all his help with Andreo," she explained innocently.

"And you can't thank him as Tessa Alvarado?" the other woman inquired, just the hint of a smile on her lips.

Tessa returned the wry smile and answered, "Somehow I think the Queen would be more welcome."

Marta just raised an eyebrow and watched her young charge leave the room.

~~~~~

Edging along the side of the doctor's office she peaked inside the window that opened into what passed for a bedroom. She could see lantern light coming from the front office and heard the sound of muffled footsteps. Looking around her to make sure the coast was clear, she postitioned herself and gracefully slipped over the window ledge and into the empty room.

She turned the corner into the front office and found Dr. Helm leaning against the examining table, his right hand submerged in a bowl of water. On the table in front of him lay some white bandages and a scissors. Coming up silently behind him she tapped him on the shoulder. Helm jumped, sloshing water all over the table.

"Your sudden appearances work wonders for my nerves, your highness," he said wryly after he'd turned to see that it was her.

"My apologies, doctor," she said smiling. "I didn't know you were so jumpy."

"It's true, I shouldn't be surprised by your nightly visits anymore," he said, eyes returning back to his soaking hand. "Must just be human nature."

"Must be," she agreed sweetly.

"I could fairly set my pocketwatch by your arrivals," he went on, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well it's good to know I'm useful for something," she replied. Then looking over his shoulder she saw that the knuckles of his hands were raw and red. Both looked bad, but the right one even more so.

"What happened?" she asked, not unconcerned.

"Nothing much. Grisham and I just had a little disagreement over Andreo's lodgings. He thought the boy needed to be in jail, and I thought differently."

"You got into a fight with him?" she asked coming around the table to face him. That's when she saw the ugly bruise on his cheek. It seemed to change from blue to green right before her eyes. "Dios! I've missed a lot in town today."

"Well we can't all ride through the coutryside fighting evil," he explained, as he reached for a towel to dry his hands. "Some of us have to deal with what's in our own backyard."

"That's what I came to talk to you about," she said, taking the cloth from him and gingerly dabbing the water drops from his hands. The table between them, she caressed the strong lean hands with the towel, being extra careful of the damaged knuckles. "You don't have to worry about Andreo anymore."

His eyebrows rose and she didn't know if the look of surprise on his face was a result of her last statement or the fact that she was now gently drying his hands. "I intercepted the stage to Monterrey and we were able to confront the imposters. It wasn't a pretty sight. Andreo wanted to kill them both. I convinced him to let them stand trial instead. They'll be on El Camino Real by morning headed to Monterrey."

"And Montoya?" he asked.

The Queen grinned as she set the damp towel on the table and picked up one of the long white bandages. "Well, I'd guess he's probably nursing the new bump on his head."

Helm smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling, as she took his right hand in her gloved ones and began wrapping the bandage around the battered knuckles.

"I also wanted to thank you for all the help you gave Andreo."

His eyes carefully following her ministrations he shrugged, "Anyone would have helped him."

"You know that's not true," she chided softly. "Grisham didn't. Montoya certainly didn't. I take that back, he did help. He just helped the wrong people. Sometimes I have to wonder about that man's priorities."

"He's a complicated man," Helm said shaking his head.

"He's a dangerous man, doctor," she replied, meeting his gaze. Having sufficiently wrapped his hand, she picked up the scissors and snipped the extra length from the bandage. Proudly surveying her handiwork she asked, "How's that? Think I'd make a capable nurse?"

"The most important things in a doctor or nurse, I think, is a kind heart and the desire to make things better," he said kindly. "Sounds a bit like your job description, doesn't it?"

His comment made her feel warm inside. It also surprised her. He usually condemned the Queen's actions. Could that have actually been a compliment?

"Then again, I don't know any nurses who carry a sword and use a whip," he added with a smirk.

Ah, there he was. There was the doctor she knew and...loved?

"Well, I'll be on my way, then," she said with a grin. "Don't worry. I know the way out."

That brought a laugh from him as he experiementally flexed his bandaged hand.

"Thanks again for caring about Andreo."

Nodding solemnly, he replied, "Can you imagine how he must feel? Knowing his parents were murdered?"

Yes, she answered silently. I know exactly how he feels. She remained silent though, praying that what he could see of her face hadn't already betrayed her. "Adios doctor."

As she exited through the window his compassionate voice floated back to her, "Adios senorita."

END

TRIO CHALLENGE - RENDEZ-VOUS

By Eliza
eliawpg@home.com

RATING: PG15 should cover it.

WARNING: Muse Fic. It just happens sometimes, I have no control over it. -- Eliza

~~~~~

Luis Montoya had been pacing this section of El Camino Real for over two hours. He was wearing a rut in the road. He was also starting to wonder why he was putting himself through this torture.

The hours in the desert hadn't been physically difficult. The ride had been easy. The day was pleasantly cool and overcast, though there seemed little chance of rain. He had supplies enough to last a couple of days and there was also a spring nearby. He didn't even have to come up with an explanation about where he was going or why; he was the commander after all.

Luis' disquiet had started with the message he had received yesterday morning. It only contained a location but Luis had instantly known who had sent it. From that moment on, he had been distracted. He had found himself staring into space, just thinking of the taste of smooth skin under his lips. Of the sound of the moan as his fingers find the perfect spot. Of the feel of a wet tongue as it travels the length of... Enough! He had to put this out of his mind.

Work hadn't helped, even insulting Grisham had lost its charm. The bath hadn't helped -- it should have been colder. Sleep had not been difficult for Luis to find, but then neither had the dreams. He had been forced to change his nightshirt... twice. The morning only increased Luis' agitation. He had been irritated to find that the hand holding the scissors shook as he tried to trim his beard. He had spent more care dressing this morning he had since he had last been presented at court.

Luis walked back to his horse tied in the shade of one of the few trees in the area. He looked at the position of the sun again and opened his pocket watch. Two and a half hours late. "Just half an hour more," he muttered to himself. He was about to snap the watch cover closed when a black-gloved hand took the time piece from him.

"I would have been gone two hours ago. You'll make me think you missed me," came a low voice from behind him.

Luis didn't turn around; he was sure he was blushing for his heart had begun to race and he was fighting to control his breathing. This became even more difficult as he felt the heat of a body as it moved close behind him and the gloved hand reached to replace the watch in his vest pocket.

Luis felt more than heard the soft sigh as the hand rested on his chest and held him gently, but firmly, against the chest at his back. The other hand moved to rest on his hip. The wind shifted and Luis breathed in the unique scent that had haunted him for months. He caught a glimpse of dark hair, tousled by one of the erratic gusts from the sea, before the sensation of warm lips on his neck prompted him to close his eyes.

{Well?}

Well what, Luis?

{Aren't you going to finish it? Or are you going to leave me in this state... AGAIN!}

Still annoyed about "Ambuscade", are you? I do tend to have better luck with you and brunettes.

::uncomfortable silence::

{WELL?!}

The problem is that I can't decide who it is.

{How hard can that be? There isn't that many to choose from.}

I came up with eight at last count.

{Eight? How did you manage eight?}

If I throw Caspian into the mix...

{Please, don't.}

Then there are the vampires...

{What?!}

Quite right, the body was warm. He could have just fed though, that's why he was late. Oh oh, it's the middle of the day. There goes that theory out the window.

{I do not want to hear anything like that ever again.}

Oh, all right. Who knew you were so squeamish? That still leaves five. Or six, if I count Tessa and the Queen as separate characters.

{Not again. Been there, done that.}

Not in my fic, but I get your point. Someone new then, that narrows the list considerably but it does get rid of my personal favourite.

{He really is the only one worthy to put me in such a state.}

Quite true. Let's move this to another folder. This piece is already long enough and I wouldn't be able to post it here anyway.

{And you will FINISH the scene this time.}

Promise.

{Do I really look that gullible?}

Just because a scrap of lace... No, no. Of course not, Colonel. Never crossed my mind.

~Eliza

TRIO 16

by Jo
EnyaJo@aol.com

TRIO CHALLENGE: El Camino Real, pocket watch, scissors

~~~~~

Helm sat in the patio of the cantina sipping his sangria when he saw Grisham stalk past from the jail to his personal quarters. Helm timed it so that Grisham would be as close as possible to the rail that the doctor leaned upon when he muttered, "Never underestimate a man scorned...," as he took another swallow. Just as he had guessed when he uttered such a line, Grisham stopped in his tracks, took a slow turn to the right and glared at the doctor.

"Did you say something, doc?"

"Yes I did. I was wondering if I'd have to make another house call to the jail. I have this," he lifted his glass, "to finish first. You have been keeping me busy. All those men who had done nothing except exist, except for their crimes of course. Do the words cruel and unusual mean anything to you? When will you finally get over the rejection?"

Grisham tensed, even more than usual, and slowly looked around. A Don and his wife were eating lunch at a nearby table and Helm was sure they had heard. The extra set of ears were the only reason that Helm had left out the name of the woman who had done the impossible. Dona Hidalgo had turned Grisham into an even bigger ass. Helm had known of their affair and had watched them the last time Grisham and Vera had been in public together, at one of Montoya's fiestas, right after the Captain started using human punching bags for exercise. Vera had tried to keep her attention on her husband, soon to be proud father, and be joyous with the other Senoras and Senoritas at the party while Grisham would corner her to persuade Vera to speak with him in private, which she would not do.

Helm swallowed the rest of the contents of his glass and put it and the bottle on another table and waited for Grisham to react. Do something. Anything. He was ready. Helm waited. Grisham just glared at him, his nostrils flaring, his fists tightening and closing.

Helm took out his pocket watch and said, "Ah, look at the time." Helm stood, looking up at the clear blue sky. "It's a nice day, Grisham. Why don't you enjoy it?"

"Why don't you mind your own business, doc," Grisham said as he turned and walked away. "When I hurt you, there won't be anyone to tend your wounds."

Helm laughed. He smiled good day to the Don and Dona and walked off the porch, in the direction of Grisham's apartment. When Helm had started to be called to the sudden rash of men falling down hurting themselves at the jail, he wasn't too upset about it. The men, who were in fact beaten up, were actual criminals or traitorous soldiers. The extent of their injuries were black and blue marks, sometimes a loose tooth, cut lip, or a slash large enough to need stitches. What worried Helm was that Montoya had departed that morning down the El Camino Real and had left Grisham in charge of the pueblo for a week. Grisham in a bad mood was one thing. Grisham in charge was another. Put them together and Helm knew he'd continue to be one busy doctor.

"Hey!" Helm yelled, then caught up with Grisham before he could enter his room, and grabbed him on the shoulder.

Grisham's reaction wasn't verbal, as you would expect. Grisham's fist slammed hard against Helm's left cheek, flattening him to the ground. Having anticipating something like that, he immediately kicked up. The tip of Helm's boot connected into the nether regions of the Captain, who slumped forward trying to catch his breath. Then he fell over on Helm in a fetal position. Helm pushed him off and stood. He leaned down to speak, rubbing his cheek and working out his jaw. "Good shot, Grisham. I commend you. You're a good fighter."

Grisham nodded, looking up at Helm out the corner of his eye, that was surrounded by blazing red skin. "Yeah," he managed to utter.

Helm smiled. "If you're in a lot of pain, I could go get my bag... I have a scissor in there."

"No," Grisham immediately grunted. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes," Grisham painfully said, smashing his face into the dirt.

Helm put his hands on his hips and looked around, almost disappointed that no one had witnessed it. He told Grisham, "What would probably be more productive for you, my friend," the word friend coming out as ironic as Helm had meant it, "Is to write a note to the Dona apologizing for your behavior and telling her that you wish her well and that you will not be bothering her anymore. Then look around you, Grisham. This pueblo is filled with beautiful women, who... might...." Helm shrugged. "Find you attractive. If you treat of one of these Senoritas correctly, you could actually have a chance at happiness. What do you think?"

"I think you should get as far away from me as humanly possible, doc."

As Grisham got back to his knees, hunched over, getting his strength back, Helm agreed.

~Jo

ALL IN A DAY'S WORK

By Mala
malisita@yahoo.com

RATING/CLASSIFICATION: PG, Helmfic.
CHALLENGE #16: pocket watch, scissors, El Camino Real.
SUMMARY: My first try at one of these challenges! I hope it doesn't suck, lol. Helm does some doctoring, Montoya throws his weight around. Business as usual in Santa Helena.
DISCLAIMER: You mean I don't own Peter Wingfield? Shucks! Spoil my fun!

~~~~~

Snip.

He cut the last dangling thread on the stitches, murmuring something low and purposely unintelligible to the indio who looked as if he would bolt from the iron cot at any second.

There had been several moments of panic involving the needle and the scissors...light flashing on the metal and mirroring the thinly-veiled fear in the young man's coal dark eyes, but he had done his best to apply pressure to the wicked scratch and inspire trust at the same time.

A physician's job was seldom easy. Much like intelligence work, one had to balance a thousand things at once. Upsetting even one tiny molecule could destroy the fragile equilibrium that made the difference between life and death.

"There. All done. See?" he soothed.

The brave was far from convinced--his proud features were a mask that didn't reveal an ounce of the pain he must have been feeling--and he glowered down at the ragged red line of stitchery that now bisected his forearm as if it was to blame for the initial misfortune that had led him to this fate.

The echo of footsteps in the narrow corridor broke the sterile silence of the tiny cell. The golden pocket watch that hung from Montoya's dress uniform gleamed like a miniature sun, catching the rays from the barred windows and casting bright circles every which way. Bright circles that belied the darkness of his countenance, of his purpose.

"Have you done your good deed for the day, Doctor Helm?" he asked, with a pleasant smile that wasn't quite wide enough to reach his eyes.

"I've done my job," he corrected, wrapping his instruments and supplies in a soft cloth and packing them into his bag. He would sterilize them later. The scalding water would boil away the blood and the germs...but not the memory of this moment. Of the smug smirk that was as constant as Colonel Luis Montoya's skewed vision of justice. "You do know what that's like, don't you, Colonel? To do one's job?" he wondered, acidly, without glancing up.

"I know my responsibilities." Again that damning false politeness. "This unfortunate young man came to us from El Camino Real and brought with him his penchant for thievery. He must be taught that California is different from our southern cousins. He must, of course, be punished."

"Of course," Helm muttered, pushing off the cot and gesturing for the indio to lay down...to get as much rest as he could before the gallows were erected and he was due to swing.

"We all have our crosses to bear. You heal the public...I protect them." The cell door slid back with a rattle, to let him through, and the keyring dangled mockingly from Montoya's fingertips.

He moved quickly, so as not to accidentally brush against the other man, knowing that to do so would be akin to touching the coiled curl of a rattlesnake's tail. On the other side of the bars, the "unfortunate young man" sat as still as a statue, seeing everything and nothing...or perhaps imagining some kind of distant peace that the doctor would never, ever know. He accepted pain. He accepted fate. He accepted what was coming.

Just as he would accept who was coming.

Robert stopped at the end of the jail's corridor and turned on his heel, matching the colonel's self-assured smile with a knowing one of his own. "We both know there's only one person who truly protects the people of Santa Helena. I trust, of course, that you'll give her my regards tonight?"

"'Of course'."

Montoya's grin faltered just an inch before maintaining it's position...and that minuscule tremor wrapped around him like the comforting folds of a soft wool cloak as he left the tight confines of the prison.

But the Queen's job?

She was the balance.

She was the difference between life and death.

Montoya had caused the wound.

Helm had sewn it closed.

The Queen of Swords would heal it.

All in a day's work.

--END--

May 10, 2001

TRIO CHALLENGE#16 - SAMSON & DELILAH

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

RATING: G
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks seems to have discarded them, so we have them to ourselves <G>
FEEDBACK: yes, please

TRIO: scissors, pocket watch, El Camino Real

~~~~~

Tessa entered the office just as Helm was ruefully looking in his mirror, brushing back long unruly strands of his dark hair. "Buenos dias, doctor," she said brightly. She laughed fondly at his unkempt appearance. "You look like you need a barber. Maybe, someday, when our little pueblo is bigger, we may have one."

Helm started at her unexpected entrance. "I'd hate for you to bruise those delicate knuckles on my door, Tessa, but maybe, once in a while, you could give me a bit of warning before you enter," he said irritably. He pushed at his hair and it flopped back over his brow. "I was just about to take the scissors to this mop when you came in." His hazel eyes warmed and he moved closer, so close he could feel the heat from her body. "Now that you're here, perhaps we can find something more pleasurable to do."

She pulled the pocket watch from his vest just as he reached to embrace her. "I haven't much time, Roberto." She sighed resignedly. "I'm supposed to meet Vera at the cantina in about fifteen minutes. However," she grinned mischievously, "I could cut your hair for you." She picked up a pair of scissors from his table, brandishing it like a sword.

"It's not that bad. Gracias, Tessa, but I'll do it myself." He nearly laughed aloud at her sudden angry pout, but as she turned away to leave, he relented. "All right, lady barber. Have a go at it." He sat down in a chair and watched as she searched inside her reticule for something. She pulled out a tortoiseshell comb. With the comb in one hand and the scissors in the other she approached him, seemingly nervously. "You have done this before, haven't you?" he asked anxiously as she began to pull the comb through his hair. It felt delicious, especially with her body so close, he could feel its warmth against his face. Perhaps this was not such a bad idea after all.

Tessa paused, considering how to answer. Truthfully, or with an evasion. Her memory flashed back to the incident from her childhood, where she trimmed a large lock of her cousin, Sandro's, hair while he slept. He deserved it after the trick he played on her! She giggled at the remembered sight of Sandro waking to find the entire front of his head nearly bare. "Yes, Roberto, I have cut hair before. And I have watched Marta barber the workers' hair many times. There is nothing to it."

With that, she began to trim his fine hair. It was not as easy as it looked. Using the comb, she cut from the sides, then the top. She thought, That's not even now, I'll have to cut more from that side. Now it doesn't look right with the top. Maybe a little more off there too. Oh, oh. Too much. A little more off each side to even it up. Damn! Tessa looked at the pile of dark hair surrounding the chair in dismay. Maybe I can take his mirror with me and drop it somewhere on the Camino Real, she thought in consternation.

She suddenly pulled his watch from his pocket once again and exclaimed, "Oh my, look at the time! I have to run." She replaced the scissors on the table, then with a quick warm kiss on his bemused cheek, she hurried to the door. "By the way, Roberto, you do have a hat, don't you?" Before he could answer, she was out the door and gone.

END

#16 W-I-P CHALLENGE...

By Rodlox
rodlox@hotmail.com

There are the quotes {not always in exact wording, mind you - makes it more fun}, several {if not all of} the challenge items, and a few Highlander quotes.

~~~~~

Senorita Maria Theresa Alvarado was riding her stallion hard across the fertile lands.

All her borders seemed peaceful and secure, not even so much as a jackrabbit intruding on her grounds.

And then she saw the body, prostate on the ground, not moving. She spurred her horse into a fit of action, getting to the fallen man as quickly as possible.

"Y Ussalemn k'heilac," he babbled, lifting his head - though that act alone looked painful and took much from him.

But it was enough for Tessa to identify him. Leaping down from Ilusio, her trusty steed, she ran over to help him stand up. "Job? Is that really you?" Job's eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, looked at Tessa; this time, she didn't feel like he was looking into or through her. "Come on, I'll get you -" and stopped. Get what? 'Get him some help?' Oh yes, 'Excuse me, Dr. Helm, do you treat angels here?'?

It was easy for her to get him on her horse, as he was astonishingly light, and only the ridge down his back proved any trouble.

~~~~~

The foreman in charge of the workers, Jesus Rivera, watched as the digging team lifted bucket after bucket of rocks and dirt out of the slowly-growing hole in the ground, the place where his boss wanted to have a new well. Suddenly, work stopped, and a hushed murmur emanated from the workers; he slid his way through the crowd of now-milling people to look down for himself.

Jesus's eyes widened at the sight.

"Mother of Mary," Jesus murmured. "What thing was this?" Then, "Don Hidalgo, don Hidalgo!" the foreman cried out. "Come quickly!"

Said don arrived as fast as his horse could bring him safely, and moved through the workers who parted for him like the Red Sea. Don Gaspar Hidalgo looked down into the pit, at the slab of rock that held the remains of a very poor soul indeed - with the toes all long, the arms and legs had three bones, and many ribs were missing.

Don Hidalgo studied it carefully, considering. Although the visible bones were long and slender, there was no grace to this dead thing. Pure inelegance. "Wrap it up, carefully," Hidalgo told them, "and place it in my wagon. I will deal with it."

"Yes sir," the foreman replied, then turned back to the workers as Gaspar was leaving. "Alright, you heard him - let's get this thing out of here!"

~~~~~

Tessa watched Job sleep soundly on a guest bed before she returned down the hallway to the waiting room, where Marta sat, watching Tessa. She'd had to tell Marta the truth about who - and what Job was, particularly when her duenna demanded to know why Tessa was putting a scraggly and dirty man on the clean white bed sheet in the guest room.

When Tessa's mentioned that Job was an angel, Marta'd crossed herself and tried taking another look at Job - but could only see an unkept, dust-covered man.

~~~~~

"You'll pardon me, I trust," Job remarked; "I'm rather new at this."

"It's only lemonade," Marta said.

Job's face was stoic. "Yes: it is a drink."

~~~~~

"You're not tired?" Tessa asked.

Job made an effort to shake his head. "I'm not entirely sure I'd be capable of sleep, mi Reina, even now." Seeing Tessa's face, "There's a prayer I've heard every so often; it could very well have been written by an angel, if not for one fault. It goes...

"'My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips; when I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches.'"

"That's a very pretty poem," Tessa admired. "Is the fault that angels have no souls?" and immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"Actually, Tessa, I was referring to the -" and his stomach rumbled, "- human need to eat."

~~~~~

"El Camino Real," Job said, looking up to the riverine discolouration in the night sky.

"No," Tessa politely corrected, "that's the Milky Way."

Job didn't argue; he just shrugged. "And the Egyptians called it the Nile. Everyone has their own terms for it."

Tessa looked at him, studying. "And what do angels call it?"

A bit startled at the question, Job turned his eyes from sky to her. "We don't have words."

"None?" she asked, confused.

"Only intents." And then he looked away, towards the horizon. "And even those are only things sanctioned by Him Above," and gave a deep sigh.

~~~~~

"Job, I was wondering..." Marta said, then hesitated.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It's nothing important. I'll let you go back to your siesta," and started heading back for the door.

"Many things are important, Marta; particularly those things people doubt."

"Okay," Marta said, and took a seat by the couch. "I simply wanted to know, what is Heaven like?"

Job didn't have complete control of his facial muscles yet, so he couldn't raise an eyebrow or two. "I do not know," he answered truthfully.

"But - but -"

"But I'm an angel, yes?" Job hazarded a guess of Marta's stuttered objection. "Heaven is for humans, not angels."

"Oh," said a placated Marta. "And what is your home like?"

"Was," Job said somberly. "I'll show you." He held out his hand.

Marta slowly extended her own hand to touch his. And then -

Darkness
No, not dark
No eyes; no need for eyes
No feet; no need for feet
Brothers and sisters without number, all around
Great warmth all around all of us
A sense of knowing, of fealty
Fealty to the warmth, to Him Who Is Almighty

Job let go of Marta's hand; in response, Marta strongly inhaled a breath - the vision had been so strong she'd briefly forgotten the need to breathe.

"Does that help any?" Job asked. Marta nodded, still rather dazed at it. "Glad I could help; is there anything else?" to which she shook her head, and so he put his own head back down to finish resting his muscles.

~~~~~

Vera looked out from the doorway to the grocers, her manservant taking the bags to her wagon, when she saw a man walking with no particular aim, his head darting back and forth from one side of the street to the other. She walked up to him, ready to beat him senseless with her umbrella if he tried anything. "Are you okay?" Vera inquired.

"What?" he replied, turning to see her. "Oh yes, very much. I am Job. I was admiring the splendor of this town."

"It's only Santa Helena," Vera told him.

"Yes," Job agreed. "But all the other places which I have seen - the Vatican, Mecca, Jerusalem, Buddha's birthplace, Confucius's hometown - I had different life then, and it is with these eyes," raising his hands to his eyes, "that I can see."

Vera was rather taken aback by this: the comparing of Santa Helena to all those holy sites, and in a way that suggested - rather blasphemously - that this blink pueblo was actually superior. Since thinking on her feet had always been something she excelled at, she did that: "My husband is presently busy, so would you please escort me to Church? I do not want to be late for services," was her excuse.

"Your husband is busy today of all days?" Job asked.

Vera shrugged, then nodded. "It was probably the only time that this town's expert," or the nearest thing to one, anyway, "would be free to help; my husband does not forgo his Mass lightly."

"No, I'm sure he doesn't. My apologies for even suggesting such a thought." A pain gripped his skull. "If I might inquire, what is your husband having examined?"

~~~~~

"Well," Doctor Helm remarked, as he sat back from taking a close look at the slab with a magnifying glass, "these spurs are fresh; or rather, they were when he died...almost like his spinal ribs had been broken, and then grew a little too much."

The foot, well, it looks like a camel's, long and broad toes, however narrow.

~~~~~

Church had ended and one person had remained behind, to pray...and then to talk with the padre about the kindness of the Queen of Swords's latest adventure. But it was not the padre who said, "You should not be interfering with his punishment, Maria Theresa Alvarado," a voice said from the choir section.

Tessa turned, and saw a man literally perched on the handrail that lay between choir level from the pews. "Interfering in what?' Tessa asked innocently. I've been busy lately.

"Yes, We know," the man replied. "And, yes, like the one you call 'job', I know your thoughts; simplistic, really."

"Then tell me how taking him in qualifies as interfering," Tessa told him - if it was a him. "I found him flat and abandoned on the ground."

"He was put here to learn humility, not to have a -" a pause, as though a word refused to be formed, "- flirting with him." Another pause, and when she was about to reply to that, "You were, even if you didn't consciously know it."

~~~~~

"You think it takes courage to do what We do? You clearly have no idea how many gifts were given to Adam and his progeny." Jacob gave examples: "Free speech, free choice, speech, and the list goes on.

Tessa found herself and Jacob on the bell tower of the Church, standing on the narrow wooden ledge that divided the hollow of the bell tower from the sloping pueblo church's roof, and from there: a drop to the hard-packed dirt.

Reflexively, once Tessa saw where they were - and felt how precarious her 'perch' was - she grabbed the nearest wooden strut, and hugged herself to it for all she was worth. "Help!" she shouted. Jacob cocked his head at an amused angle, snapped his fingers, and -

Tessa found the two of them, in the next instant, next to the pastor's pulpit, right at the edge of the -

Of the stairs, which she fell down when Jacob tapped her on the shoulder, using just enough force to unbalance her. Fortunately, there where not many stairs, only two or three - depending on if the pulpit's platform counted as a step. "Why?" Tessa whispered, her jaw achingly sore, and hoping it wasn't broken.

Jacob just looked down at her, incapable of laughter. "'Thou shalt not bear false witness.' I cannot make you a liar, Maria Theresa."

The Church doors opened again, with force this time, Tessa blinked, and Jacob was gone. Marta and Montoya were leaning over her, as was a third woman Tessa wasn't sure if she recognized or not. "I will get Doctor Helm," Marta said, and ran for help.

With her one eye that was looking up, Tessa could see Montoya's face flex, as though he was considering asking her if she felt alright or was okay; his silence meant more to her than the questions would - because only a fool would think she'd fallen without pain.

~~~

"Well," Doctor Helm was telling her, after setting her leg in a splint, "you were rather lucky today, Senorita. Your right leg isn't broken, but it did twist and bruise enough for you to have to keep your weight off it."

~~~~~

I could think of more to add {I think}...but in my researching angels in the 3 Books, I found out that they do have Free Will/Choice, which negates a (major) theme here}.

-Rodlox