ELIZA RESPONSE FILE 2

By Eliza
elizawpg@shaw.ca

I did it! I worked a Quote in! There are spoilers for the episode (obviously) and I have ignored the opening of the tag scene. Actually, I had completely forgotten about it until I rewatched the ep. to check some facts, by then I liked my ending better. --Eliza

~~~~~

Colonel Montoya pushed aside the blind that protected the interior of the coach from the dust of the road just in time it see Captain Grisham be surrounded by the cream of Santa Elena society. The women seemed to have their hands all over him. Most surprising was the fact that Grisham did not look like he was enjoying the attention.

Montoya followed the captain's stare and thought he saw the black thorn in his side--the Queen of Swords--disappear between the buildings. He had better find out what had been happening in his pueblo while he was in Monterey kowtowing to the new viceroy.

"What a tremendous welcome home! I never expected such a reception. I am truly touched." Montoya managed to reign in his sarcasm so that the only person that caught the full force was the one looking into his eyes. Grisham winced, and Montoya wondered exactly what his captain had done this time.

"Colonel Montoya," Gaspar Hidalgo began, ignoring the colonel's remarks. "On behalf of the rest of the dons, I recommend a commendation be given to Captain Grisham. He has managed to save not only our lives," Hidalgo indicated the gathered dons, "but the whole town from the hands a ruthless brigand."

Grisham seemed to become even more unnerved as Hidalgo gave him a slap on the back. Montoya was bemused by the whole scene, even as he was suspicious of his captain's discomfort. "If that is the case, then I heartily concur. However, I will need to hear the whole story in order to insure the captain gets suitable recognition."

The whole story, from Krane's arrival at the party to the release of the dons, was told to Colonel Montoya in many voices and with a number of conflicting facts. The only way for the colonel to stop the deluge was to ask the obvious question, "Where is the outlaw now?"

There was silence and all eyes turned to Captain Grisham. The captain blinked for a moment then straightened his stance and said decisively, "This way please, Colonel."

Please?! You are very worried, aren't you, Marcus? Montoya had the captain precede him, then noticed that the gathered crowed was also following them. Since he had the strong feeling that Grisham was bluffing, Montoya thought this was best dealt with in private. He addressed the crowd, "Gentlemen, it seems that you have had a very trying few days. The sight of the captured desperado may not be pleasant. I think it best for you to take your ladies home, as not to cause them further distress."

Montoya moved no further until the crowd reluctantly disbursed. He then caught Grisham in a chilling glare. "You have no idea where he is, do you?"

Grisham looked grim. "I'm not certain, but I am hoping," he said as he led the colonel into the passage way between the church and cantina and then into the garrison plaza.

Montoya stopped short at the sight at the entrance to the hotel stable and felt Grisham halt close at his back. All the conformation Montoya needed was in the relief in the captain's voice as he explained, "Krane. We served together in the same regiment. He blames me for his court marshal and the subsequent attempted hanging."

"So your past had come back to... What is the phrase?... Bite you in the ass. This presentation is complements of the Queen of Swords, I assume." Montoya looked sideways at Grisham, who just shrugged.

Krane was standing on the side of a barrel, his hands tied behind his back, and a noose snug around his neck. He was doing an admirable job of maintaining his balance and even managed a sneer, as Montoya came into the barn to get a good look at the almost hanged man.

"So you've decided to remain a captain have you, Grisham?" Krane was almost laughing despite his precarious position. "Colonel Montoya, I assume. Be careful, Colonel, you wouldn't be the first commanding officer that the corporal... excuse me, captain here has eliminated should you become inconvenient. Loyalty is a word that doesn't seem to be in his vocabulary."

"Maybe not," Montoya replied. "But prudence does not seem to be in yours. Trying to take over my pueblo! You should really learn more about your enemy before advancing."

"I know Grisham far better than you, Montoya. Before that masked bitch with the sword showed up, I had him dancing to my tune."

"To that one, I am certain no sane man will dance voluntarily." Montoya chuckled at the bravado of the man so near death. But he didn't find the proprietary tone of his comments amusing. Nor did Grisham, from his expression. If this was the quality of the men that he had been exposed to during his early career, then it was little wonder that the captain had such a poor sense of the subtleties of leadership.

Montoya decided to correct this man's perception and, maybe, influence the captain in the process. "You knew him, Senor. The boy has been under my tutelage and has learned a considerable amount. He has gained discipline, forethought, and an excellent sense of what I would consider appropriate action for a situation. For example, show him how we deal with insurrection, Captain."

"With pleasure, Colonel." Grisham kicked the barrel out from under Krane's feet and smiled into the man's darkening face before ramming a knife into Krane's chest.

"I believe the word is overkill," commented Montoya as Grisham stepped back to view his handiwork.

"He survived the noose once before. There's no point in tempting fate." The cocky grin was back, the captain must be feeling confident in his position again. The desperado had been captured, by whom was irrelevant, and executed, therefore unable to impart any uncomfortable information. The colonel could see why Grisham would be pleased at the way the day had turned out.

Montoya nodded and headed back to the main square. Another of Krane's comments kept echoing in his head; the one taunting Grisham for deciding to remain a captain. Montoya was not surprised that Grisham would go along with a plan to be rid of him, it wouldn't be the first time, but what did that plan entail? And why didn't he go through with it? Could he actually be gaining some idea of loyalty? Could Marcus Grisham finally be realizing that his life is much better in a brilliant commander's shadow rather than out in the hot sun on his own?

The colonel made a careful examination of the man walking beside him. The grin had faded and the guilty expression was back. He was also brushing at his uniform, at what looked like scorch marks in the wool. Why would he be concerned about a bit of soot? Unless... "I understand Krane not knowing that I am fully aware of your past, Grisham, but he seemed to think that your loyalty to me was in question. What would give him that idea?" Again Grisham's hand came up to brush his coat, as the colonel could see him searching for an explanation.

Then Montoya noticed the scorched ground and the burned end of the fuse. He picked it up, pulling up the cord as he followed it to the spot where his carriage had been. "When I have this spot excavated, what am I going to find?" asked the colonel coldly, already certain of his answer.

Grisham was studying his boots and the sand around them. He looked up to answer, "Dynamite."

Montoya didn't bother keeping the anger out of his voice. "You were going to blow me up?!"

"Not me -- Krane." Grisham must have realized how this sounded, pointing the finger at a dead man. He continued to explain, "Krane made me set the trap and light the fuse. His men were on every rooftop, armed, watching my every move. I had no choice! I managed to put the fuse out before it was too late."

The confusion on Grisham's face at the smile that Montoya gave him was almost worth the attempted murder. "Pragmatism. That is what I admire most about you, Grisham. You can make the best of any situation, and when the situation changes so does your actions. Should I be thanking you for saving my life then?"

"I wouldn't go that far, sir," said Grisham, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased with himself.

"Neither would I." Montoya almost laughed at the slumping shoulders as Grisham realized he was far from off the hook. "There is still the matter of the Queen of Swords." Montoya motioned for Grisham to follow and did not look back as he started to his office, confident that his captain was close at heel.

THE END

I couldn't let a Machiavelli quote pass me by.

~~~~~

"You think it is better to be feared than loved?"

"If you cannot be both, yes. But the people love me, I'm their protector. Only the criminals fear me, for they know they will be brought to justice."

"Justice is not what you mete out. You set yourself up as sole judge without hearing the facts. You make your decisions based on the word of a single person and then act without regard to the law. Without adherence to the law there can be no justice."

"You are not one to be talking about adhering to the law. In your career you have killed..."

"Only to save others."

"...stolen.."

"To place the wealth in the hands of those who deserve it."

"... abused and bullied..."

"Only because they stood in the way of the fulfilment of my destiny."

"Destiny! Obscene luck is what I would call it."

"God must be on my side."

Both occupants of the Santa Elena jail looked up as the outside door opened.

"So there you are," said Doctor Helm as he started to search the guard's desk for the keys. "How did you end up...?"

"I'll tell you later. Now, I have to get out of here," interrupted the Queen of Swords as she came to stand near the door of her cell.

Helm unlocked the door and was given a quick kiss as the Queen passed by him on her way out. She paused to look back at the occupant of the other cell. "I am surprised to say, it has been an interesting evening, Colonel."

"Agreed. Although, not one I would care to repeat, mi reina."

The Queen and the colonel nodded a polite farewell and she made her escape.

The doctor sent Montoya an assessing look through the bars. Montoya returned the glare with a smile. "A very intriguing woman, wouldn't you say, doctor?"

Helm just sneered and carelessly tossed the keys into the colonel's cell.

END

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

Only one muse in residence today and she keeps insisting that she looks much better in black then the Queen. I really can't argue with that. <shrug>

CATEGORY/RATING: Crossover PG13
DISCLAIMER: I think Fireworks owns them all, at least they were the last to give them work. No harm, no foul.

~~~~~

This really wasn't a challenge, just a little bit of exercise. Some practice so that she wouldn't get rusty. An easy way to earn some pin money. But there was such a thing as pride in one's work, so she held her breath as the guard passed by.

When everything was still again, she considered her options. There was the iron bar, which should have been holding a lantern, at the entrance way to a courtyard filled with rose vines. She looked into the courtyard. Now the choice was swinging herself up onto the wall via the bar then walking the top until she reached the balcony, or... she could take the stairs. There is a difference between making things interesting and being stupid. She took the stairs.

The office was the main room on the second floor of this part of the building. It was easy to find and obscenely simple to break into. The thought of robbing the local military governor's office likely didn't cross the minds of many thieves, but then she was no ordinary thief. She was here for one reason -- to get a certain necklace and win that blasted bet. If a few pieces of gold happened to fall into her pocket in the process she really couldn't be held responsible. The problem was, she had this feeling in the pit of her stomach that this wasn't as simple as it looked. She hadn't won one of Suzanne's silly wagers in three hundred years. She really was old enough to know better then to accept one when her mind was fuzzy with wine and kisses.

She took a careful look at the room. Her gaze didn't dwell on the desk or the chests, but made a thorough inspection of the fireplace, the wall behind the desk, and the bookshelves. The bookshelves -- something didn't look right. The way the sections fit together was odd. She started to lightly run her gloved fingers over the books in the centre section, paying particular attention to those on the end. When she found the latch, a surge of adrenaline went through her and she had to stop and take a few deep breaths. This always happened when she was this close to her prize but she could easily control the effects after years of practice. Hers hands were steady as she pulled on the spine of the false volume and the bookcase swung outward.

Inside was a cage with standard prison bars and lock. She didn't even watch her hands as they opened the lock like it was a routine chore. Her eyes were riveted on the sight in front of her -- gold. There was silver, too. She entered the cage and lifted the lid on one of the small chests. Oh, that's pretty! She stopped herself as her fingers reached for the diamond pin. Rebecca always called her a little raven, helplessly drawn to shiny objects. She insisted that it was the challenge, the pride in her skill, that kept her crossing the line and breaking the law. But it was more fun when the prize twinkled in the light.

Focus, Amanda. If you get greedy, she'll win. That's what happened the last four times. Suzanne knew her far too well. Amanda wasn't going to give in this time. Only the necklace was leaving the cage, the proceeds from winning the bet will have to do as compensation. Pride was at stake after all.

That resolution lasted until she opened the second chest to look for the ruby necklace. Emeralds! The earrings went into her pocket. It was one thing to resist gold but no one should be asked to resist emeralds. She lifted the cloth that the jewels had sat on and she breathed a sigh of relief. She could get out of this pit of temptation. The necklace went in a different pocket than the earrings.

As Amanda turned her back on all the shiny treasure and walked out the door of the cage, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She took a closer look at the top of the steel door. Damn you, Suzanne! You knew the place was rigged and counted on the sight of all this to distract me. It's so annoying when you're right! But the deal was to bring the necklace back, we never said anything about being quiet about it. Opening the cage had broken a thread, that dropped a weight behind the wall, that set off a bell, or some other signal, indicating the lock had been breached. She had seen similar alarms in large manors and private collections, but who would go to such trouble for such a well hidden stash in the middle of nowhere. She had been taking her time up until now, and it had run out.

She closed all of the doors behind her, just in case luck was on her side and no one had noticed the alarm. The soft clearing of a throat behind her let her know that it was wishful thinking. She winced at the sound and then slowly turned around.

She was pleased to see only one man in the room, a handsome one at that, but with a drawn sword. It was not what Amanda considered a flattering accessory.

"The rest of the guards are at all of the entrances. I prefer to greet all of my guests myself," he said.

Cultured as well as attractive. And I thought Suzie was patronizing me with this wager. Amanda hoped that she could charm her way out of this situation. It's not like she was making off with sacks full of gold. "Colonel Montoya, if my information is correct. And far more handsome than described."

Her attempt at flirtation prompted him to take another, more leisurely, look at her. "You have me at a disadvantage, senorita. Whom would you happen to be? Other then a thief."

"I'm a nun from the Mission at San Jose collecting alms for the poor," she said with a cheeky smile. Montoya was torn between being angry at her impertinence at daring to steal from him and being amused at her self-possession and wit. She looked more like a little girl being caught taking a sweet than a criminal at the point of a sword.

When he had first heard the alarm, his first reaction was that the Queen of Swords had become overconfident and that he would finally have her head on a pike. But the woman in black that had exited his obviously not-so-secret room, was not his nemesis. Her dark hair was pulled back, likely braided, and tucked into her shirt. Her attire, though as unique as the Queen's, seemed more practical, designed for function rather than distraction; although, like the Queen's, it left little to the imagination. However, it was the lovely face that prompted him to briefly consider alternative compensation for her misdeeds. He was drawn to the sparkling brown eyes, the playful grin, and the spirit that was behind them, more so than the long legs and feminine curves.

But then the impulse passed. "Amusing. But a Good Sister would have had God on her side and would not have tripped my alarm. Shall we try again? I would like to be able to put a name on your gravestone."

"How about... I didn't take anything, I was just browsing. You can search me if you like." That grin was back.

Montoya was having a little trouble keeping focused. "It will be just as easy to search you after you are dead."

"But not near as much fun," she pouted, another weapon in her arsenal. She was also making her way steadily to the balcony door.

He moved to block her path and brought his sword up under the swell of her breast, almost touching her. "I will give you a choice. Either I can run you through now, as a thief invading my home and threatening the security of the Spanish government in California, or you can accompany me to the jail peaceably, and tomorrow there will be a trial and you will be hung."

"Now Colonel, you know that's no way to impress a lady." Even as she said the words, the thief was sending a nearby chair in Montoya's direction. When he looked at her again, after the brief diversion, she had a sword in her hands as well. The flirtatiousness was gone, but there was no blood lust in her eyes either, just a surety as to her ability with the weapon in her hand. This confidence gave him pause, but only briefly; others had overestimated themselves before. But Montoya found out that he was the one that was out matched, for within a few moves he found himself unarmed and against one of the pillars with her blade at his throat.

She leaned her body against his and sighed, "It's a real shame that you didn't consider my offer of a search. You may have enjoyed what you found, and I'm guessing I would have as well."

"Where did you gain such skill with a sword, senorita?" Montoya couldn't think of returning the suggestive remarks. He was starting to worry that there were more dark-haired, sword wielding Amazons out there and that they would all eventually end up in his pueblo.

"It's just practice, Colonel. When I set my mind on learning something, I practice until I am the best that I can possibly be. Particularly when I enjoy the activity," she said.

She removed the sword, but then the press of her lips held him as immobile as the blade had. This must have been one of those activities she practised. Enthusiastic and erotic, skilled and seductive, she plundered his mouth yet invited him to return the favour. Then suddenly she was gone.

Montoya ran out the door to the balcony and watched as his soldiers fired at the figure riding into the night on a stolen horse. I must order more target practice for those idiots, he thought, as he went back inside to find out exactly what was missing.

END

RATING: G
BETA: Please
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, etc, etc.

QUOTE CHALLENGE #21

~~~~~

"A moon lit beach, Doctor. I never knew you were such a romantic."

"If I had any hope of a reaction that didn't result in a mouth full of dust and a view of the back end of your horse, I think you'd be surprised what I could come up with," was the doctor's sarcastic reply, then he became serious. "Lie down. The moon is bright enough for you to be spotted."

Helm watched the Queen of Swords stretch out beside him in imitation of his pose -- on her stomach, resting on her elbows, looking over the edge of the cliff to the beach below. He stayed silent, observing from the corner of his eye her battle with her curiosity. He could see her well enough in the moonlight to judge the emotions crossing her face. She had a very expressive mouth. He followed speculation, to impatience, to acceptance, to annoyance, to...

"There are better ways to spend an evening then on the top of a cold, windy cliff," she snapped.

Helm smirked, both at her temper and at the timing of outburst. "You're right. And there is one of them." He pointed out a boat making its way through the waves and the surf. There were four men at the oars to help it keep its course through the rough water.

"Why...?" she began.

He cut her off. "And the party is complete." A wagon could now be seen along the beach accompanied by two riders. One of the riders made a careful study of the edge of the cliffs. When the moonlight illuminated his face, the Queen let out a gasp.

"Grisham!" She turned to Helm, remembering to keep her voice low. "Montoya is sending the taxes to Monterey by ship! When did this start?"

"When did you start missing the tax shipments?"

"Three months ago. But I just thought that Montoya was just getting better at keeping the route and schedule a secret." She still sounded amazed by the whole idea.

"He was, and there it is. I ran across this little operation last month. It didn't take much to figure out the timing û shallow cove, high tides, full moon."

"Great. Let's go," she said and started to get to her feet.

Helm stopped her with a firm grip on her arm. "Go where? The gold is already in the boat."

"So let's go get it."

"With these winds? Neither one of us are good enough sailors to go chasing around after experienced seamen on a night like this."

She gave a small sigh, as if she accepted this judgement. However, when she spoke her voice conveyed a stubborn determination. "I made it out to Wentworth's ship all right."

He gave a small, derisive snort, and looked back out to the waves as he said, "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm."

He had expected some kind of response to continue the argument, so when none came he turned to face her. She was looking at him, her mouth pursed in that adorable way he had come to recognize as a contained smile. Then the smile escaped and filled her face. He was caught off guard by the beauty of the sight but recovered quickly as she turned away from him, her hand at the side of her face blocking her expression from view. He heard what sounded suspiciously like a snicker.

"What's this all about?" he asked, for the moment bemused at the situation.

"Nothing,"she managed to choke out before resting her head on her arms and completely giving in to a case of the giggles.

Helm wasn't sure how to react. He had the feeling she was laughing at him, but couldn't figure out why. It also didn't help matters that she had a very attractive giggle. He sat up, enjoying the view as the laughter shook her body. He tried again to get her attention as he placed a hand on her arm and said, "It's very rude not to share the joke."

She grinned up at him, and he had no choice but to smile back. Apparently in control again, she sat up and took a calming breath. "Don't worry about it, Doctor. We'll test your theory another day."

"And which theory was that?" Helm was confused. The way this woman's mind worked sometimes baffled him. He continued to stare at her from his seat on the cliff as she rose to her feet.

She gazed down at him, and he could practically see the giggles threatening to rise to the surface again. "The one about holding the helm when it's calm," she said before she bent down to quickly kiss his cheek.

Still mystified, he watched her walk to her horse and heard her laughter. Then everything clicked into place. He lay back on the grass, groaning over the horrible pun, and for once not seeing his usual view of Chico's tail as she rode away.

END

TRIO CHALLENGE #22 [orange, chemise, croquet mallet]

~~~~~

Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud.

Colonel Montoya enjoyed an accompaniment to his meals but this was not the music he would have chosen.

Thwack, thud. Thwack, thud.

The fruit knife paused over the peel of a fresh orange. The colonel had been nurturing the single tree for years and it was finally mature enough to produce fruit. Six oranges had ripened this year and this one was the last of them. Montoya planned to enjoy every moment.

Thwack, thud.

"What is that?!" he muttered under his breath. The knife returned to the table with the a thump, as the colonel rose to his feet. It was coming from the direction of the square, but also seemed to be within the courtyard. While he approached the gate again there was a "thwack", distinctly coming from the square, but the "thud" that followed resonated through the walls.

Montoya strode through the gate in time to see the source of his irritation. A small boy, about 6 years old, was picking up a wooden ball from the base of the courtyard wall. In his other hand was a croquet mallet. The boy straightened with the ball in his hands and looked at the colonel. He didn't seem afraid or guilty, just unsure of what to do.

"Please. Continue," prompted Montoya. He was certain of what he was going to see but he needed the time to figure out exactly what to say to the child. That mallet looked familiar. The little boy trotted a half dozen paces from the wall, set the ball on the ground, and struck it with the mallet--thwack. The ball hit the wall--thud. That was quite a swing. The child would make a good polo player, thought Montoya. But not against my courtyard wall.

When the child came to retrieve his ball, the colonel intercepted him. "That is an interesting mallet. Where did you get it?"

"Doctor Helm gave it to me," said the boy, warily. He was holding his gift protectively behind his back.

Montoya tried not to grin at the picture of paranoia before him. He couldn't blame the child for the mistrust; it was the way of the world. "Doctor Helm is a generous man," was all the colonel said.

Since there was no attempt to confiscate his treasure, the boy seemed to relax. "He also showed me the game and said that this was the best place to play it."

"Did he now? That does sound like something the doctor would do." Particularly since Grisham tried to shoot him a few months ago.

"Yes, he's very nice."

"A prince." Montoya was hoping that the child couldn't recognize sarcasm, for the last words were dripping with it. He was trying to sort out how to put an end to this "game" when a shrill voice was heard from across the square.

"Luis!"

The colonel turned toward the strident call and saw one of the local women walking toward them. She had obviously been doing washing, she still had a wet chemise in her hands. As his gaze fell upon her, she froze in her tracks and a look of panic crossed her face. Montoya had difficulty suppressing the smile that pulled at his mouth as he came to understand the situation.

He squatted down on his heels to look the boy in the eye. "Your mama?" he asked, indicating the woman standing horrified half a dozen steps from the square's fountain. The boy nodded.

"And you are Luis," the colonel confirmed. Again a nod; the boy's expression not showing any connection between that name and El Coronel.

"Well Luis, I would like to make you an offer... a trade. You give me the mallet and I will give you this." Montoya opened his hand and presented the orange. Luis' eyes became very wide, their focus darting between his new treasures and the rare treat.

Montoya saw a little guidance was needed; it was a big decision for a little boy. "Your mama would be very happy if you brought the orange home for dinner. And you can keep the ball." He had picked up the wooden toy and now presented both spheres to the child.

The smile that lit up Luis' face showed an agreement had been reached. His little hands could barely grasp the orbs that rested easily in Montoya's palms, so the colonel made sure that Luis had them both tucked safely against his chest before sending him on his way.

"Buenas tardes, Coronel," the little boy called over his shoulder while running full speed toward his mother.

"Vaya con Dios, Luis," replied the colonel. He gave a gracious nod in reply to Luis' mother's hesitant smile. Then he picked up the mallet, experimenting with a test swing as he speculated on how to properly return it to the doctor.

END

QUOTE CHALLENGE: #35
CATEGORY/RATING: Crossover HL/QOS PG15 f/f relationships implied and portrayed.
DISCLAIMER: The town of Santa Elena and its residents are owned by Fireworks. Rysher is under the impression that it owns Amanda (silly them). Suzanne(Medea) is mine.
SUMMARY: Amanda has returned, with backup this time. And she promises she is not leaving with anything. Really. I don't care if you don't believe it, that's what she told me!
NOTE: This story has been rattling around in my head for months. Actually, it overlaps the timeline of Maril's "The Duel". I've decided to use the challenges as motivation to complete it. It is a very strong Xover with my own Highlander ficverse. There are also references to Amanda's two other adventures in SE -- Challenge #19 and the Silly Saturday one with the sash.

~~~~~

"I don't like this, Amanda. It isn't your usual style. This isn't a museum or a rich man's prideful collection. Anything in that house is likely to have much more sentimental value than monetary worth."

"I'm not going to take anything away but some information."

"Riiiiight."

Amanda turned a wounded expression to her companion and then startled a bit. She hated it when Suzanne dyed her hair, it always took a few months to get used to it... and very dark hair didn't suit her. "I think I'm hurt," Amanda pouted.

Light brown eyes turned from their perusal of the hacienda to meet Amanda's gaze. "You'll live," Suzanne said with a small smile. Then the smile widened. "But I would be happy to kiss it better if you think that will help."

"Oh no. You're not going to distract me. We are doing this tonight. You owe me after that mess with the rubies."

Suzanne chuckled quietly and sank lower behind the crest of the ridge. There were still a number of workers in the yard finishing up last minute chores as the sun set and they didn't want to be discovered casing the house. "We have some time to kill before it gets dark. Since you are being a prude, why don't you tell me the whole story about why we're here. The incoherent ramblings that you inflicted on me during the ride still don't make much sense."

Amanda wasn't sure which she should find most insulting -- 'prude', 'incoherent' or 'inflicted'. She settled for being mildly annoyed at them all and put on her haughtiest expression. She had expected the fit of giggles into which Suzanne dissolved and which did nothing to salve her pride, but it gave her the opening she wanted. "Dea, I swear you would insult Saint Peter when requesting entry to heaven. And I doubt he would be as forgiving as I am. He would likely send you straight down to Hell."

That calmed the laughter enough for Suzanne to answer. "Been there. More than once. Here's today's advice from the older and wiser: if you are going through Hell, keep going -- but at a quicker pace." Her snickers had been reduced to a smirk, but her eyes were very serious as she gave one additional piece of advice. "And don't call me 'Dea'. It's a bad habit."

"Rebecca always calls you 'Dea'."

"Rebecca calls me lots of thing that shouldn't be repeated." The mention of her long time friend seemed to take all of the vitality out of Suzanne for a moment, then she visibly shook off the mood. When she turned her smile back to Amanda there was only a hint of sadness in it. "Come on. Tell me a story."

Amanda wanted the story to be coming from Suzanne. It had been over 70 years since Suzanne had walked out of Rebecca's house in Normandy and crossed the ocean to the New World. That is the longest that Amanda had ever known them to be apart. There had been fights, nasty ones, but this one felt different, they were both too... calm. She was worried that this might be the wound that would not heal. She had tried to get both Rebecca and Suzanne to talk to her about it but neither would put her worry to rest. She indulged in a small sigh as Suzanne cupped her chin and gave her a light, comforting kiss. Then she snuggled close so that they were hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, looking over the ridge to the yellow hacienda with the well tended rose garden.

"All right. From the beginning." Amanda paused for a moment and then changed tack. "Actually it works better if I tell it backwards." Suzanne dropped her head onto her folded arms with a soft groan. "Don't be like that! You remember the two women that went into the theater in Monterey?"

"The ones you said came out again in costume? You said that you recognized them from the last time you were here."

"A soldier I spoke to while trying to get some information on the colonel's residence, became distracted by the young senorita and her companion. I acted insulted; he was repentant, and told me all I wanted to know about Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado. She runs this ranch alone. The house is empty with the ladies in Monterey."

"How do you know that they're not back?"

"Because the fencing competition only ended yesterday. They won't get back until tomorrow." Suzanne shook her head, and Amanda could see that she hadn't made the connection. "The young doña has entered the competition as a man."

"That explains the costume change, but not why you are so certain that she would still be competing on the last day of the tournament."

"Because any woman who is good enough to dress herself up as a champion of the people is good enough to win a colonial competition."

There was a pained sigh before Suzanne said, "This is why I still don't know why we are here. You keep making remarks like that. Pull it together, Amanda."

"I heard her speak to her companion before the wagon pulled away from the theater. Her voice was familiar. It wasn't until we were well out of Monterey that I finally realized where I had heard it. It was the woman in the lace mask."

That brought a undiluted grin to Suzanne's face. She had laughed herself into hysterics when Amanda had told her about stealing the masked woman's horse and the restitution she had paid by retrieving a red sash from the garrison's captain. "Fine. Now I know the connection between all the players. So why are we here? What are you looking for if you already know her secret?"

"Proof. All the pieces fit, but I want proof that Senorita Alvarado is this bandita the Queen of Swords."

"She sounds more like a Robin Hood to me -- showing up a harsh commander, stealing from him, rescuing his prisoners. This is not just to satisfy your curiosity, Amanda. You are not unknown here. The comisionado is not renown for his generous nature. Just being in the area is risky."

"Not really. The captain is easily... distracted and Montoya is in Monterey as well. He was the reason that I wanted to get out of town." Amanda grinned at Suzanne's increasingly suspicious expression. "If I had pointed him out to you, we never would have left. He's your type -- handsome, intelligent, vicious, ..."

The recitation was interrupted as Amanda suddenly found herself on her back with Suzanne's lips nibbling their way down her neck. "How can you say that?" Suzanne whispered between extended tastes of skin. "You know my type is beautiful, clever, strong, soft-hearted..."

"That's not my heart."

"It's close enough. And with regard to the men -- you forgot rich."

"Oh, Montoya is rich. You have no idea the amount of self control I exercised in only taking the rubies."

The chuckle against her throat tickled briefly then Amanda found her gaze caught by an amused amber one. "I know exactly how much. But emeralds really do suit you, cherie."

Amanda covered Suzanne's face with her hand and pushed her tormenter off. It was accomplished easily; Suzanne's cooperation reinforced by the smile she could feel under her palm. She sent a vexed, though slightly sheepish look to her partner in crime -- at least tonight's crime -- then took another look at the hacienda. "The yard is quiet. Come on."

Part 2

~~~~~

Breaking into the house was far too easy. It seemed that the residents of this pueblo had few worries about theft. Amanda doubted there were many thieves of her class in this part of the world anyway.

The house was quiet but it didn't look moth balled. The ladies were likely only going to be gone a little over a week and there were enough servants around to maintain the place. There had also been a delivery while the senorita was away. Two crates had been placed in the parlour. Amanda lifted the top off of one of them.

"Nosey!" accused Suzanne from the other side of the room.

"I'm not the first one," Amanda rejoined. "This lid was already loose. It's just a painting." Suzanne had wandered over, and even though she rolled her eyes in disapproval, she helped Amanda lift the large picture from the protective box.

"This isn't the young doña, is it?" asked Suzanne as the two of them studied the portrait.

Amanda shook her head. "No. And from the style of the gown I would say it was painted about twenty years ago. No society woman would have her portrait done without being at the height of fashion. There is a resemblance though. An older sister? Her mother, perhaps?"

They put the painting back and decided that there was unlikely to be any evidence in the public rooms. Amanda planned on starting in the bedroom, while Suzanne was volunteered to search the cellar.

"Why do I always get the dirty jobs?"

"Because I'm better at efficiently searching a room with minimum disturbance. You're better at nosing out secret doors and such. And because you looooove me." Amanda said the last while batting her eyelashes as she rested her head on Suzanne's shoulder.

Suzanne shrugged her off with a disgusted snort, and stalked off muttering in some long forgotten language. Amanda noticed that Suzanne hadn't disputed any of her reasons, and she momentarily reveled in producing the high level of irritation indicated by the muttering. What was the fun of having a best friend if you couldn't pester the hell out of them?

In the doña's bed chamber, Amanda did a very quick scan. She didn't expect to find anything in the obvious hiding places -- bottoms of drawers, chair cushions, etc. She was looking for secret panels, complete sections of furniture given over to hidden chambers. She had become a little distracted by the jewelry box on the dressing table when a whispered call from Suzanne.

"Where are you?" Amanda called back when she had reached the kitchen.

"In the cellar where you sent me," came the peevish reply. Amanda found the door and headed down the stone staircase. The room was clean and orderly but she saw nothing extra ordinary until a section of the wine rack moved.

First a candle and then Suzanne appeared from behind the concealed door. She had a wry little smile on her face and her eyes were dancing as she beckoned Amanda into the entrance way with a crook of her finger. "You've found something," Amanda stated.

"I've found lots of somethings." corrected Suzanne. Then she held the light high and the glitter of gold and silver reflected around the room.

"The people in this colony are so considerate, always keeping their valuables in one place." Amanda reached out to trace the workmanship of an ornate silver mirror only to have her hand lightly slapped.

Suzanne smirked as she handed Amanda a piece of cloth. "This is what you were looking for."

Amanda held up the black silk in the light of her own small candle. It was a blouse; one rent with... "Oh, my. Sword slices and blood stains. Far to familiar. But not too much blood though."

"Take a look at this mending." Suzanne pointed out a pair of small spots on the sleeve of the garment. "The highborn lady may have a permanent mark or two on her delicate skin."

"Bullet holes." Ouch. This girl was not just playing dress-up. Amanda's respect for her rose a few more notches.

Suzanne had moved into a dark corner of the room. "Do you need any more proof?" She held her candle into the shadow, illuminating the entrance to a tunnel. "It leads to the barn. I went in far enough for my nose to confirm that. And I found this." She handed Amanda a piece of lace.

Amanda fingered the black stitching and held it against her skin, noting how the detail appeared against the lighter background. "This is the same kind of lace that the mask was made from. I think this is proof enough." She gave the lace back to Suzanne, who stored it carefully under the seat of an innocuous bench. The blouse was returned to a box sitting on a table. It was likely waiting to be mended, or kept as a reminder of the consequences of sloppy preparation. Amanda had a few souvenirs like that.

When Suzanne had again closed the entrance, Amanda took a close look at the workmanship of this secret door. "Much better than the one in the colonel's office."

"I thought that you said you could see that room from the outside anyway."

"You can, but it is also very easy to find the door once you know there is one. This one would be difficult to find even if you knew there was an entrance down here. It is exceptional work." Amanda turned from her admiring perusal only to be startled again as the light from the candle in her hand reflected off Suzanne's honey-gold head.

"Bring the candle over here, Manda. I think there are spiders in this thing from the tunnel to the stables."

Amanda just stared dumbly at the fall of dark hair in Suzanne's hand. She hadn't even considered that it could be a wig.

Suzanne smiled at Amanda's confusion as she blew on the strands and gave the wig a shake. "Remember that quick visit that you made to Louisianne after your adventure in Turkey. When you sold your hair to my friend..."

"It's my hair!" Amanda exclaimed. Suzanne grinned in confirmation. "That's so sweet!"

"Isn't it though. I can't believe that in three days you didn't notice."

"Did you think I was going to touch what I thought was newly dyed hair? Henna is one thing but black... Yuck! And you wore that ratty hat most of the time."

"Have to watch the harsh California sun on my fragile complexion." Amanda chuckled at that for she knew that the only reason Suzanne's complexion could be considered fragile was because the sun loved her skin, kissing it gold at the slightest exposure. Suzanne gave the shoulder length wig one last brush with her fingers before putting it back on. "Let's go. You have what you came for."

Amanda headed up the stairs at a quick pace and called back over her shoulder when she reached the top. "I have one more thing to do."

A resigned, "Oh good lord," floated up the stairs as Amanda returned to the bed chamber. She opened up the dona's portable writing desk and composed a brief note. Then she turned to the jewelry case and found the item she had noticed earlier.

"Amanda, those are the pearls in the portrait." Suzanne was leaning in the doorway with her 'maternal' expression. "You are not going to steal her mother's pearls."

"Now I am hurt. I can't believe that you think so little of me."

"I think the world of you, my dearest. I have also known you for most your life. And I have had personal experience..."

"I returned that dagger."

"A century later!"

"Picky, picky. Senorita Alvarado won't have to wait nearly long -- I'm holding them for ransom." Amanda joined her friend in the doorway. "See here's the note."

Suzanne took the piece of paper and quickly scanned the brief lines. "You just want to meet with her?"

"That's all." Amanda made sure to put on her most innocent expression.

"We went through all this so that you could make a date?!"

Oops. The problem with best friends as partners is that they know you too well. "I wouldn't call it a 'date'... exactly."

"No? I know about you and those dark haired, doe-eyed, hero types. There's nothing you love more than someone coming to the rescue."

So that's what this was about. "You're jealous!"

Amanda found herself trapped against the door frame. Suzanne had braced herself with her arm placed on the frame above Amanda's head. She was only an inch, maybe two, taller but she was broader and Amanda knew exactly how much muscle lay beneath the soft, subtly curving skin. Still, what was more overwhelming was the strength of purpose Amanda saw in Suzanne's eyes. She heard, "It wouldn't be the first time," growled softly as Suzanne's other arm slid around her waist just before her lips were captured.

Regardless of how aggressive the approach had been, the kiss itself was achingly tender. Any deepening of the caress was at Amanda's encouragement, but the invitations were received with such confidence and enthusiasm that Amanda felt as if she was being carried along in the wake rather than leading this dance. She tried to gain some stability by literally hanging on. She cupped one side of Suzanne's face, her thumb brushing over the velvet skin of cheek and jaw. Her other hand traveled along the flank exposed by Suzanne's raised arm. The supple curve of the outside of Suzanne's breast tempted her to redirect the caress to the softer flesh. When Amanda brushed over the peak and felt the nipple harden under her fingers, she couldn't resist giving it a light pinch.

Suzanne broke the kiss with a sharp gasp. "Minx," she whispered against Amanda's lips. She moved back just enough so that they were nose to nose. Amanda raised her eyebrows hoping to convey a silent, "You started it." She had the tone right for Suzanne's response was a soft whuff of amusement.

"Hotel?"

"Hotel," Amanda agreed, a little too breathlessly for her pride. She made sure she had found her normal voice before saying, "Don't forget to put the note back ."

"Note? Right the note."

"Put back the note. Drop it! Damn you, Dea, give me back the note!!!" How can someone go from seductive to infuriating so fast? "I can always write another one," Amanda threatened.

"You are really no fun today. You were supposed to go looking for it."

"Here, you can hold the pearls. I'll go looking for those." The grin that split Suzanne's face prompted Amanda to quickly add. "We are giving those back, remember."

"I know, I know. But that doesn't mean that a thorough search will not be necessary."

Amanda put the slightly crumpled note in the jewel case, then turned to Suzanne with a low purr in her voice. "I promise you -- nothing will be overlooked."

PART THREE

Category/Rating: Crossover HL/QOS PG15 f/f relationships implied and portrayed.
Disclaimer: The town of Santa Elena and its residents are owned by Fireworks. Rysher is under the impression that it owns Amanda (silly them). Suzanne(Medea) is mine. More notes and description found in: Quote Challenge #35 - Ransom (part 1)

~~~~~

"I'm always surprised at how beautiful you are when you make an effort." Amanda knew the moment she said it that it hadn't come out right. It sounded like something a man would say.

Suzanne did look beautiful though, and they had both made the effort this morning. Travelling on horseback meant travelling light but they had both packed a "town dress". After checking into the hotel the evening before, they had arranged to have the gowns pressed and then retired for the night... officially. This morning the dresses had been delivered, and the women had made their transformations into proper ladies. Suzanne had coifed her wig, then had pinned Amanda's heavy dark curls away from her face so that they all fell down her back. Amanda had wanted to complain that it made her look fourteen but the look she saw Suzanne's face as her friend played with the ringlets had encouraged her to remain silent.

The clothing was what truly prompted the transformation. It was as if once in the dress, Dea disappeared completely and all that was left was Suzanne. Gone were the sharp edges, the bristling bravado, the quick temper, the woman very capable of violence. Her actions became subtler, her expressions more restrained. Her vocabulary became that of an educated lady and the tone of her voice, calm and refined. At this latest comment, however, Suzanne didn't even try to mask her sarcasm. "Thank you."

"You know that I meant..."

Holding up her hand, Suzanne cut off further comment. "Please, do not make it any worse. You are very fortunate that I am too old to have any pride left."

This struck Amanda as extremely funny. She laughed so hard she began to have trouble catching her breath and placed her hand on her friend's shoulder for support. Suzanne was stable under the physical pressure as Amanda tried to calm herself, but whenever she looked up at the long suffering expression on Suzanne's face the laughter started again.

"Suzanne, I can't breathe. My stays are too tight. I'm going to faint."

"Good. Serves you right."

"Will you at least catch me?"

"Hell no." This very Dea-like comment coming from the elegant Suzanne set Amanda's giggles off again.

"Can I be of assistance?" asked a deep masculine voice behind her. "The lady looks in distress."

~~~~~

Robert Helm had watched the pair leave the hotel and take a turn around the square. It was a pretty picture. The lively young woman dressed in deep blue seemed to be dominating the conversation, her enthusiasm evident in the movement of the dark, loosely curling mane that fell to between her shoulder blades. Her companion, in forest green, had her dark locks twisted into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. This feature and the relative stillness of the second lady caused Helm to infer that she was the elder of the pair. Both were tall for women, and they moved in a similar manner ù graceful without being mincing. They also seemed very intimate with each other; they walked arm in arm, brought their heads in close to speak to each other, at times it seemed that they were sharing the parasol that the elder held. If they were not sisters, Helm would guess they were related in some way.

When he saw them stop near the completion of their circuit, he thought that they might have been having a disagreement. Then he saw the younger one place a hand on the other's shoulder for support, she appeared to be having trouble breathing. Her companion seemed unconcerned and made no move to help, but that didn't mean that the situation might not be serious. He may have read their relationship completely wrong. By the time he was near enough to realize that the lady was laughing, he was also so close to require that he announce his presence.

The reactions to his words were at best unexpected. The lady in green took a couple of steps back and held the parasol as if it were a weapon. The lady in blue lost her balance at the abrupt removal of her support and fell into his arms. All of her laughter was gone by that point. With an alarmed gasp, she pulled out of his grasp faster than he could help her gain her feet.

"Dios mio!" The lady exclaimed as she turned to face him, but she recovered from her shock quickly. "Excuse me, Senor, but your resemblance to our brother-in-law is remarkable. It is very startling to see even a similarity to a familiar face when one is so far from home."

Her companion had also regained her decorum. "I must apologize for my rude reaction as well, Senor. I have never been fond of my sister's choice and you brought the memory of Matthew to mind with startling clarity."

The women looked at each other for a long moment as if in silent communication, then two smiles were turned on him. The handsome face of the elder became beautiful and the lovely visage of the younger turned mischievous. Inexplicably, Helm had a strong urge to run. He was well trapped though, each woman taking one of his arms and leading him toward the cantina.

"We were about to have some breakfast, Senor. It would please us very much if you would join us."

At his hesitation, the younger one chimed in. "Have you had your breakfast already? At least have some coffee with us, as a token of our regret at such a terse introduction. But we have not made proper introductions, have we? I am Amanda Montrose and this is my sister, Suzanne. Please keep us company, Senor..."

"Doctor, actually. Doctor Robert Helm."

"A doctor in this wild land. We have found a gem, Suzanne."

"You do have an eye for them, dearest."

Despite their forward manner, Helm found his trepidation easing during the meal. They seemed to be exactly what they portrayed themselves to be... two ladies, though slightly eccentric ones, traveling through Nueva España hoping to find a new home under the flag of their mother's country since the sale of Louisiana to the United States had left them feeling displaced. Their stop in Santa Elena was just a break in their journey from Monterey to Santa Barbara. They asked about the town but only in a general way û how many people in the area, what was produced on the ranches, how often were outside supplies available. Nothing that hinted that they were looking for specific information. Once he relaxed, Helm found that he enjoyed his breakfast and the conversation. Amanda was openly flirtatious but witty, and Helm found it easy to play along. Suzanne's humour was drier, her amusement usually expressed by just a wide smile, but he realized that the only reason she would be considered restrained was because she was being compared to Amanda. It was an unexpected pleasure to be able to enjoy the company of two charming ladies and not worry about having his name connected to them in gossip for the next month.

The remains of breakfast had just been cleared away and their cups refreshed with coffee from a fresh pot, when a black coach with an escort of half dozen lancers rumbled into the square.

"That would be Coronel Montoya's coach?" Suzanne asked and looked to Helm for the answer. Before he could finish his tentative nod, Amanda had disappeared. She had also taken her coffee cup, a sign that he misjudged the women completely. Just what he needed, to be involved with more beautiful brunettes who are antagonizing Montoya.

Suzanne kept her back to the activity going on in the square, she even took a calm sip of her coffee. Helm was impressed with her self possession, but he had already ascertained that whatever their purpose, these two were not amateurs. Then her amber eyes looked straight into his. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what is going on behind me? Not knowing is driving me completely insane." The last phrase was accompanied by a coquettish smile but her eyes conveyed the seriousness of the request.

He returned the smile, but as he started his report hers faded to be replaced by a look of intense deliberation. "Colonel Montoya has left the carriage and is speaking to his first in command, Captain Grisham." He broke off and took a sip of his coffee.

She leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. "They are looking this way, are they not?"

Helm took a quick glance toward the carriage and then met her gaze and patted her hand. "They were, but now it is only the captain. Montoya has gone inside. It seemed as if the colonel had been giving detailed instructions and now Grisham is figuring out how to mess them up."

"You don't like the captain much, do you?"

"He's on his way. No, not much." Helm sat back in his chair. Suzanne's retreat was accompanied by a light laugh. It didn't seem at all forced; either she was an exceptional actress or was genuinely amused. The look in her eyes hinted at amusement, but at Grisham's greeting they became unreadable.

"Doctor Helm. You seem to have finally discovered that the best way to start the day is in the company of a beautiful woman." Grisham looked at Suzanne, impatiently waiting for an introduction.

Helm was not about to cooperate. "And you, Captain, will eventually find that a woman's company is even sweeter when you don't have to pay for it."

Suzanne had been acting aloof to the whole conversation and had taken another sip of her coffee. At this comment, however, she seemed to suddenly find swallowing difficult and covered her face with her handkerchief as she started to cough. Helm suspected that she was really laughing behind the linen for the one eye he could see failed in its attempt to glare at him. She managed to collect herself and sent him another glare that was a little more effective. Then she turned her charm on Grisham. "I apologize for my rude outburst, Capitan..."

"Marcus Grisham." He took her offered hand and continued to hold it rather than place the expected kiss. "And it is the doctor who should apologize for his indelicate comments. Such a gracious lady should not be exposed to such sentiments, Senorita..."

Helm was about to supply her name when a slight shake of her head stopped him. Instead she gave Grisham a radiant smile. "There is little point in giving my name when it will just be dust on the winds of memory by sunset."

"My dear lady, you are very mistaken. I need to know who I must follow, to the ends of the earth if necessary, to reclaim my stolen heart."

Helm rolled his eyes as he heard this. The captain should be more selective in the books he borrows from Montoya's library. Though the volume that inspired these phrases was probably Vera's.

Suzanne was acting according to character with a coy smile and fluttering eyes. "You move very fast, Capitan."

"I am a true believer in the sentiment -- æWho ever loved that loved not at first sight?'" Now he kissed her hand while holding her gaze in his salacious one. Helm was sure that Grisham had been waiting months to use that line.

The look on Suzanne's face, however, could have frozen the fountain in the middle of summer. "I hate Marlowe," she said, removing her hand brusquely. She rose from the chair. Helm rose as well and she gave him a small curtsy. "It was a very enjoyable breakfast, Doctor Helm. Thank you for your company."

He returned her bow. "I hope we meet again, Senorita."

"Liar," she whispered with a smile in her voice as she passed by.

~~~~~

The light, rhythmic rap on the hotel room door signalled that it was Suzanne turning the latch. Amanda returned her sword to its scabbard at the sound and continued her packing.

Suzanne had barely closed the door when she accused, "You're not changed!".

"No, but we are packed. Let's get you out of that dress first."

"You are the one Montoya will be after," reminded Suzanne, as she pulled off the wig.

Amanda started working on the laces at Suzanne's back. "Exactly. My mess, I'll be the one to take the risk."

Suzanne didn't argue further, but worked on changing her appearance swiftly and in silence. Amanda recognized the need for efficiency, but when she was nervous she found the quiet disturbing. This wasn't like the adrenaline rush of a heist, this was dread sitting cold in the pit of her stomach. Seeing Suzanne remove the eight inch stiletto from the handle of the parasol and return it to the sheath strapped to her thigh gave Amanda a topic. "What were you doing almost drawing the blade on the doctor?"

"We have to talk about this now, don't we?" Even with the slight strain of the moment, Amanda could hear the indulgence in Suzanne's voice. "It was a gut reaction to suddenly seeing that face without warning."

"I would have thought that the fact that there was no warning would have sunk in somehow." Amanda stowed the dress and underclothes while continuing to question Suzanne. "What did Matthew ever do to you? I wasn't even sure you knew about him. You're not usually so jealous about Rebecca's other lovers."

"This has nothing to do with Rebecca. We had the discussion about him 300 years ago and didn't even break any stem ware."

"There's something new... a civilized conversation." Amanda threw Suzanne her boots and placed one of the packs on the ledge outside the window.

"Very. I told her she was an idiot to trust him, she told me not to be such a cynic and that people can change. I conceded... eventually. I had encountered Matthew long before he took that name but at the time he tried very hard to separate my head from the rest of me. Having that man come at you with death in his eyes is not something you forget."

"Or forgive?"

At this Suzanne grinned and stood up to stomp her feet firmly into her boots. "Nothing to forgive. I was a pirate; he was a raider. I got to the treasure first; he tried to take it back. My Quickening would have been a bonus. There was nothing personal in it, at least not from my point of view. I'm not so sure about his. I managed to make off with one of his slaves as well. To be fair, he had lost her already, I just happened to find her first. But that's why I was a little jumpy."

"A little paranoid, you mean," said Amanda as she started to unlace her own gown.

"You're not paranoid enough, sugar." They both froze at the sound of boots on the stairs. "Damn. Amanda?" Suzanne was halfway out the window, offering Amanda a hand.

All Amanda did was throw the other pack out the window and give Suzanne a shove. "I remember your first lesson: she who hesitates is a damn fool. Now move your ass!"

Suzanne was gone before the sound of her curse died, but Amanda was confident that she hadn't gone far. She would stick around if only to dig up the coffin after the execution. Amanda retied her laces, smoothed her hair, straightened her posture, and gave Suzanne a few extra minutes by ignoring the pounding on the door. By the time the door opened, without her consent, she had put on her most charming smile. "Colonel. How lovely to see you again."

PART FOUR

Suzanne had watched Amanda's removal from the hotel and walk to the jail. The captain was keeping his eye out for a dark haired lady and had not taken a second look at the blond drifter resting against the hotel stables. She had been very glad the wall was there, for when Montoya had passed by she had come close to fainting. As close as she usually gets anyway. What had started as an interesting coincidence with Helm was now just creepy. She made a promise to herself that if she encountered anyone who looked like Caspian she would kill him on general principle. If it happened to really be Caspian, he'd appreciate the sentiment.

She had been worried at first about letting Amanda deal with Montoya herself, but as the colonel stalked by, Suzanne could see the mixture of anger, amusement, and intrigue in his expression. Amanda had been working her charm, and Montoya must have decided that the safest place to put her was behind iron bars. He even had the foresight to take her hairpins. If he found her dagger as well, it was little wonder that she seemed to be in such a good mood for being marched into jail. Smart man. Handsome, smart man. Handsome, smart, with a fiendish gleam in his eye. Amanda was right, Suzanne chuckled to herself, just her type.

Just her type was rarely good for her health though, and Suzanne was not in a masochistic mood today. She wandered toward the main square hoping to get lost in the crowd, but as Montoya and Grisham returned to the main square they briefly came within hearing and she caught the word 'accomplice'. It would be better to find a quiet spot. In a town this size, a new face would invite a second look and she didn't think her quick disguise would survive any scrutiny. The colonel and captain parted company at a stairway that entered the square, then Grisham took charge of a small group of soldiers. The wide grin on the captain's face piqued Suzanne's curiosity so she followed them to a house on a street outside the square.

No polite knock on this door, the squad walked right in. Almost immediately Doctor Helm stormed outside, protesting vehemently to Grisham. Suzanne managed to get close enough in time to hear a crash come from inside.

"Even if that was just the milk bottle, there will be an itemized list on the colonel's desk detailing the losses caused by this search," Helm calmly informed Grisham.

"You are looking for a woman!" the captain yelled through the open window. "She's not going to be hiding in the medicine cabinet, for God's sake!" He turned back to Helm. "Obstruction of justice could be considered treason in the right light."

Helm didn't seem impressed by the threat. "I only met them this morning. I have no idea where Suzanne could be. I also have no reason to hide them from you."

Grisham looked particularly doubtful at the last remark, but a sergeant reported that there was no one in the building. The captain ordered his men out then gave one last warning to the doctor. "The women are thieves. I know you have a soft spot for beautiful criminals, but these two are not fighting for some imaginary noble cause -- they are just thieves."

Beautiful criminal with a noble cause. Suzanne grinned. So here is another one under the masked bandita's spell. She had never subscribed to the theory: my enemy's enemy is my friend. But this conversation with Grisham convinced her that Helm would be, if not a welcoming, at least a safe choice of accomplice. He was also excellent company. And was really cute when annoyed. Finding that she had snuck in his window should make him positively gorgeous.

She could hear his grumbling from another room as she entered what she assumed was his office. There was yet another room leading from it that seemed to be a bed chamber. Private quarters were less likely to be subject to the perusal of a casual visitor therefore it became her first choice for an extended wait. As she crossed the office, she inadvertently kicked the short neck of a bottle, cork and wax seal still intact, into the other room. For a moment there was total silence.

When Suzanne opened one eye from the embarrassed squish that her face had arranged itself into, she saw that Helm was leaning in the doorway. She tried for a combination of unrepentant and sheepish in her grin, a mix that seemed to work for Amanda all the time, but the suspicious quirk if Helm's mouth caused her to return to the familiar safety of honest-to-a-point.

"I've come to pay for breakfast," Suzanne said, placing a gold reale on his desk. "And to apologize for getting you mixed up in..." She just waved off the rest of the explanation while finding a second reale to join the first.

"I don't need your money."

"We invited you for breakfast and then left you to settle the account. That was very rude. I apologize." She looked at the two coins. "If you don't need the gold, I'm sure you know someone who might. Consider it an apology to the pueblo for the chaos that Grisham's searches will cause today." She headed toward the bed room. "Would you mind if we moved this conversation to somewhere a little less exposed?"

Helm didn't try to stop her and he swept the two coins into his pocket before joining her. Suzanne couldn't hold back the snicker this action evoked. He asked about the laughter as he followed her into his room.

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She wasn't ashamed of her most regular of occupations but it was rarely the topic of casual conversation. "I'm usually the one picking up money off the dresser on the way to the bed." She took a seat on the bed with her back against the wall and make a quick inspection of the room. "Does that open?" she asked indicating the small window over the washbasin.

Helm glanced up at it as he pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Yes, it does."

He sat quietly and seemed to be studying her. She took off her hat to let him know she had nothing to hide, and ran her fingers through her short hair. It felt so good that she did it again, giving her scalp a firm massage. She spied the trepidation on his face and it made her grin. "No, Doctor, I don't have lice. The wig makes my head itch and I didn't have time for a good scratch while trying to get out of the hotel." She tilted her head toward him. "You can check if you want."

He dropped his gaze briefly and grinned as well. "No, I believe you." The grin turned into a chuckle. "I now understand why you laughed so hard at the insult I threw at Grisham."

"It was a good shot, it just happened to hit one of my funny bones."

"And the Marlowe quote? What did that hit?"

Suzanne was tempted to launch into a diatribe that could be reduced to "none of your business" but found that she wanted to tell him. "Damn green eyes. I am helpless against green eyes."

This was going to be difficult to explain without revealing too much but he didn't prompt her, he allowed her the time to collect her thoughts. As she began to speak, she found she couldn't look at him, so she focused on a indeterminate spot on the floor.

"The Marlowe quote hit the centre of my soul. A centre that is bruised and bleeding, and is showing no signs of mending. Perhaps to expect to love and be loved forever is foolish, but when one has loved from first sight it is almost impossible not to hope. What wounds me the most is that I do still love and have from first sight. The other's love came later and has left too soon, making me think that it wasn't really love in the first place. That reasoning might be attributed to the pain, and is therefore inconsequential, but... ."

~~~~~

More very soon -- E

The continuation of this story line can be found at Bare Bones under the crossover section, El Cuervo
http://members.shaw.ca/elizawpg/index.htm