JO FILE 5

By Jo
EnyaJo@aol.com

TRIO: a linen towel, a bear, red ribbon
QUOTE: John Keats, 1795-1821 "You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
WORD: pecuniary
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks
FEEDBACK/BETA: Please

~~~~~

Vera sat up in bed and felt a finger lightly trace her spine, sending shivers throughout her body. "Do not make me stay any longer, Marcu," she purred. "I must return home. Gaspar is will arrive this afternoon."

She hurriedly opened the care package that she always brought along to each encounter with her lover. The most important contents, a bar of soap and a linen towel so she could clean traces of one man from her so the other wouldn't be the wiser.

Grisham growled like a bear as he turned over and crawled to the end of the bed. "We can still have a couple more hours."

Vera stepped into her underclothes and motioned for Grisham to tie her corset. She turned her back and stood at the end of the bed as Grisham rose to his knees. He pulled and started to tie, but she said, "Tighter," then sucked in her breath. It wouldn't do if her maid realized that the laces of her corset were significantly looser than they were that morning when she tied them. You had to think of everything while carrying on an affair.

Grisham pulled tighter as he nibbled her neck. She giggled, but told him to concentrate on the task at hand. After he was finished, she stepped into her dress and motioned for him to button it for her as she straightened the front. She had every intention of getting her things and making a hasty exit, but he held onto the red ribbon that encircled her waist. "You're growing tired of me," Grisham said, mockingly.

Vera lightly giggled again, as hard as she could with a tight corset around her torso and grabbed her bag. "Never, Marcu," she said, heading to the door. If she were to stick around his apartment any longer, she would probably not be able to bring herself to leave.

He stopped her and pinned her against the wall. His body leaned against her. Grisham did know where his power lay. He gently kissed her and muttered, dejectedly, "You're not coming back again, aren't you?"

"What gave you that idea?" Vera was stunned by his behavior that morning. All the while they were together, he was acting as if it were for the last time. "Do you need to tell me something?" She hadn't thought that it would be him that would call off their affair. She trembled as she waited for his response.

"Yes," he said simply.

The waiting for the ball to drop seemed an eternity for Vera but he finally said, "I love you, Vera, and I don't want to lose you."

She sighed in relief and said, "Why would you?"

"You always leave so fast. There were other things I wanted to do to you, but you hit the road at your first opportunity. Is it getting old?"

"You are always new," she said, "The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest."

Grisham covered her mouth with his once again, and she was once again conscious of how she could have men eating out of her hand. When Grisham wrapped his arms around her, and she felt his awakening body against hers, she pulled away. He once again groaned, obviously giving in and he would let her leave. If she chose to. Vera was torn between Grisham's quixotic style, that he exhibited only to her, and Gaspar's pecuniary panache. Two men, so different from each other, but together, fulfilled her two main needs in life. Vera dropped her bag and took his hand. Leading him to the bed, she cooed, "I think I have a few more minutes."

END

Week 29
Trio: glass windowpane, feather, rawhide cords + two of the quotes + bijou
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Fireworks and FOX and brig and Julie <g>
Feedback/Beta: Absolutely
Continuation of Luis' trip to 2001 started in a previous challenge response.

~~~~~

Luis was completely befuddled, a foreign sensation for him, as he was in a completely foreign environment. He was sitting on a wobbly stool made out of a strange, yet sturdy, shiny substance. It wasn't at all comfortable. Give him his chair in his office, his rocking chair in his bedroom, better yet, his feather bed. He had been completely thrown for a loop ever since suddenly appearing in a dank, dark, strange room filled with odd machinery. The men who made his transportation possible were an odd trio, and they had excitedly described everything that was on the shelving, on makeshift tables, on the floor. Computers, monitors, television screens, stereos, printers... the items were totally off the wall and Luis wondered when he would wake up from this astounding dream. One minute he was riding with his entourage, the next, he was in the year 2001.

The three of them were once again furiously working on their machinery to get him back to where he had come from, for the third day in a row. They had tried their best to make their visitor comfortable. Luis understood some English, but most of the time, the three of them were talking gibberish. The cot they had provided for him was so uncomfortable that Luis was sure that he had been sleeping on rawhide cords strung between two pieces of wood. When he finally couldn't take it anymore, and in the middle of the night had yanked the mattress off the bed, he saw that his presumption wasn't too far from the truth.

But an interesting thing happened the evening before. The gunmen had taken Luis to The Bijou to see what was called a `movie'. Amazing! The `theater' was where people congregated for an entertainment event, like a play, but there were no actors. There was only a big white wall and after the lights went down, the wall showed pictures. Luis, dressed in Frohike's clothes as they were roughly the same size, looked behind him at the flickering stream of light that filtered from a small glass windowpane high up on the wall. When he wanted to go and find the origin of that light, Byers just passed him a delicacy called `popcorn' and told him that it was magic. "Just watch and enjoy," Byers had said.

Watch it he did. The words that came up at the beginning of the `movie' and the English spoken pretty much went over his head, but Luis was enthralled by the pictures that flashed before him. The pictures weren't still, the people moved. Most of all, he was shocked when the black and white pictures became tinted by every color of the rainbow. Luis sat with his mouth agape as he watched the moving play, that took place called Kansas, and then in Oz. A talking scarecrow, lion, tin man, trees. On the surface it seemed silly, but he couldn't help but be delighted by the songs and the plight of the young girl. Luis couldn't help but see the parallel between her life and his own when she clicked her shoes together and said, "There's no place like home."

An instrument that the Lone Gunmen were huddled around suddenly made a lightening noise and sparks flew out from it, making them all jump back, and snap Luis out of his reverie. Darkness covered the room. Luis stood, a little scared, and asked, "What happened?!"

A small red light in the upper corner of the room came on casting an eerie glow to the weird room. Langly looked at him and said, "Well, amigo, seems we have a short." The computer console he was sitting in front of started to smoke, then flames flickered inside it. "Byers, grab the fire extinguisher. Frohike, change the fuses." Then Langly slammed his hands on the computer keyboard. "Damn! We were almost there." He hurriedly went to another computer down the table from where he had sat.

Frohike walked toward Luis and bopped him on the arm. "Come on, bub. You can hold the flashlight."

Luis stared at the long, black, somewhat heavy, metal thing that had been placed in his hand, then looked up at Frohike questioningly. Frohike sighed and said, "This is a flashlight." He grabbed the instrument back and clicked a button. Luis jumped back when light came out of it, shining right in his eyes. "Oh, sorry," Frohike mumbled. "Here." He gave the flashlight back to Luis and motioned for him to follow him down the stairs. Frohike turned on another flashlight that he still held as Luis was still enraptured by his own, shining it on all the reflective material in the room, making a circle pattern on the ceiling.

"Luis!" Frohike yelled from the basement. "Help me here!"

Luis shone the light on the doorway to the basement and down the rickety wood stairs. He saw a beam of light downstairs and walked toward it. Frohike, hunched over, kneeling on the floor, had opened a small box that Luis now knew was 'cardboard', and had taken out strange looking short things. "Hold the flashlight so I can see what I'm doing."

"What are you doing?" Luis asked.

"We need new fuses." Frohike shook his head. "I keep telling them that we're overloading the circuits and should get a new electrical system, but no one listens to me."

Luis held the light beam so that it shone on the metallic face plate as Frohike pulled out a fuse. Frohike asked, "So, Louie. Do you miss home?"

"Yes. I do. While I'm gone there is only one person who has taken over my command and I will have some messes to clean up, I am sure. I miss my bed. My own clothes. My aunt. I need to see Lucy. My cat."

Frohike looked at him. "You have a cat?"

"Yes. Her name is Cleopatra."

"Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function," Frohike said.

"I beg your pardon?!"

"I'm allergic to them. And really, what do they do all day? Unless she clears out the rats for ya."

Suddenly, the lights came back on and the whirr of machinery upstairs hummed once again. "Frohike! Get him up here, quick."

Frohike nudged Luis to the stairs and up them. Luis said, "You do not have to push."

As soon as they got up the stairs, Byers manhandled Luis and placed him on a small circle marked out on the floor with chalk. "Don't move, Luis."

"What is going on?" Luis asked, straightening the leather jacket that he had borrowed from Frohike.

"I think you're going home, Luis," Langly said. "How many years back does he have to travel?"

"184," Byers said, "And make sure the coordinates are correct."

Langly looked at him, stung. "Please!"

Byers shrugged. "Well, it was you that got him here."

Langly swivelled his stool and said, "I got us back to our time. Give me some credit."

Frohike interrupted them. "Fellas, there's more important fish to fry here."

Luis stepped forward. "What is going on?"

All three gunmen reacted, motioning with their hands for him to stand in the circle. Byers even moved him back on it. "You're going home, Luis." Then whispered, "If Langly really knows what he's doing."

Byers slipped a metal and black object made from a substance called `plastic' into Luis' pocket and said, "That will tell us where you end up. Hopefully it will work. Nice meeting you, Luis."

Langly and Frohike smiled to him and waved. "Yeah, it was fun hanging out with ya," Frohike said. Langly turned back to the computer keyboard and dramatically pushed the enter key. A swirl of red and yellow lights surrounded Luis and he thought he heard Langly yell, "ALL RIGHT!"

Suddenly, Luis was standing on the edge of a great chasm. His balance was off and he rolled over the edge. His hands groped for anything to hold on to, and was scraped and cut by the impact of sliding down the steep side. He finally got hold of something and held on for dear life. After he shook off his confusion and breathed heavily, Luis realized that he was hanging onto a mesquite tree branch that had grown out from the side of the chasm wall. He adjusted his grip on the branch and got up the courage to look down. Under his feet was air, and the ground looked fuzzy, from how high he was. He couldn't possibly just jump. He could break every single bone in his body. Luis heard a slight, but continuous beep, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Then he looked up to see that he was dangling about ten feet from the lip and there weren't any handholds. Suddenly, frustration took over and he yelled, "Muchas gracias, senors!"

He started to get worried, and then got even more so, when he heard footsteps above him and looked up. What he saw a woman's head, a black lace mask, and her long hair flowing to the side in the breeze as she looked down upon him. "Having a little problem?" she sarcastically asked.

Luis groaned and hung onto the branch. Great! Suddenly a rope appeared at his side. He looked up to see that the other end of it was in the Queen's hand. "Take hold of the rope and I'll tie this end to my horse!" she called down.

His hands were sweaty and he felt he was starting to lose his hold on the branch. He laid one arm over it and pulled himself up so it was his arm holding his weight. He couldn't stay there forever; that rope looked inviting, but that would mean that the Queen had saved his life. What a quandary. He didn't want to have to owe that woman!

"Any day, Montoya," the Queen called down. "I might change my mind."

Luis muttered, "Whenever one is caught between two evils, take the one you have never tried," and grabbed the rope, wrapping it around his hand. Suddenly, the rope grew taunt and he was being lifted up. "This had better not be a trick to get me off the branch!" He held onto the rope as he was pulled up to the edge, and then over it. As he collected his breath and looked up, he saw the Queen, still on her horse, pulling at the rope that he had let go, looping it into a small circle and then hooking it back on her saddle.

He stood up and brushed himself off. The Queen giggled. "What an interesting outfit for you, Colonel."

He looked down at the leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans and had thought he looked good. Dirty, but good. He straightened the jacket and stared at her, wondering what would happen next.

What happened was, the Queen said, "No need to say `thank you'," and turned her horse and rode off.

Luis looked around at the familiar landscape, the great plain in front of him, and at the deep chasm behind him. He walked forward to not fall in again and said, "Thanks amigos," with a smile. As he headed toward Santa Helena on foot, he was somewhat bittersweet about not having been able to say goodbye to them.

He heard the beeping again, that was now fading in volume. He pulled out the metal and plastic gizmo Byers had slipped into his pocket and saw the red letters flash, 1817, just before the contraption went dead. Off in the distance, he saw four men on horseback, the flag of his garrison proudly flowing in the wind as they headed out of the pueblo, toward the sea. He yelled and flung his arms to get their attention. The gang slowed, and then veered to his direction. He wouldn't have to walk all the way into Santa Helena after all.

Luis wasn't wearing red shoes, but he smiled as he clicked the heels of his borrowed boots and said, "There's no place like home."

END

Takes place after my response last week where Luis has just returned from the future.
Trio: Coin, pearl necklace, apple tart (I'm assuming the dessert, and not the Episode Guide page on Manzana Core, Maril <g>)
Quote 3 and all of the words, and also, thanks George for the sentence.

~~~~~

Beatriz was ticked. The dining room table was elegantly set for three and Beatriz sat alone, tapping her cane angrily on the tiled floor. When she was in such a mood, no one who worked in Montoya's house dared disturb her. Even though she was an old woman, Beatriz could also be the poster child for 'cranky'. She was determined also. She had been waiting for almost seven hours, refusing to let the staff clear the table or prepare something fresh for her to eat. Beatriz's stomach was rolling from hunger, but stubbornness precluded her from taking them up on their kind offer. Her pursed lips clenched, her fingers and cane tapping in rhythmic succession, her gray eyes glaring at the door, her best dress wrinkled and also stained from a spot of wine, the only thing that she had disturbed on the table since it was set for her birthday lunch.

Suddenly, the quiet was disrupted by a flurry of activity out in the hall. She heard Luis call out, "There's no place like home!" and she heard his minions reply, "Si, Colonel," in a confused manner. She heard heavy footsteps run up the stairs, thinking there was a herd of horses thundering up the stairs, then Luis walked into the dining room.

He was wearing what Beatriz pegged as a ridiculous getup. He was a colonel, not a farmhand. The boots he wore were heavy. His pants were dark blue, but faded. His white shirt read "Garcia Forever" on it. That dusty, black leather jacket had certainly seen better days. His long hair was hanging loose and he hadn't shaved in days. He was supposed to have come back from his meeting with the Governor that morning, and he was dressed like that?

"The gnomon shows seven, Luis," Beatriz bitterly said, focusing her steely eyes on him.

"Auntie," Luis gleefully said as he walked to her and gathered the old woman into his arms and lifted her up and swung her around.

"Bunky! You could break every bone in my poor, decrepit body! What has gotten into you? Put me down! I am mad at you!"

"Why?" Luis said, making sure that her feet were firmly planted on the floor. "I am your favorite nephew," he said with a wondrous look around at his possessions.

"You are late!" Beatriz said, sitting again at the table. She picked a piece off of her birthday cake and chewed, finally giving in to her hunger. "Jorge left!"

"Who?" Luis was admiring his portrait on the wall that had been done when he had just received the rank of Colonel.

"Jorge! My boyfriend! Soon to be your uncle, if you are lucky! You were not here to lunch, so he got nervous and left."

Luis laughed as he looked over the table, set with his best china and crystal. In the middle of the table was a goose, that was probably prepared perfectly and would look delicious if it had not been sitting there all day. The dessert cart held the cake with one unused candle atop it. The wine holder held an empty bottle of wine. He looked at his aunt and said, "Happy Birthday, Tía! How many years have you been gracing us with your wonderful disposition?"

"You know how exactly how old I am, and if you tell anyone, I will have your head... favorite nephew or not. Where were you?"

"You would never believe it, Auntie," Luis said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans that Frohike had lent him. He pulled out a round disk. He held it in his hand and realized that it was one of those coins that the Gunmen had used to put their clothes into metal barrels and they came out wet, then they would need more of the coins for another contraption that would dry them. It really was a miracle! Luis took a seat at the table and wondered if he had dreamt the entire three days and all the awe inspiring things that he had seen. He always had a vibrant imagination, maybe he thought up those conveniences... But he had the coin...

"Where is my present, Bunky?" Beatriz asked. Her nephew had to have had a long, arduous journey back from Monterrey, and as long as the gift was appropriately expensive, she would forgive him.

"Come with me," Luis respectfully said, as he held out his hand to her, slightly bowing.

She took his hand and he carefully helped her up and walked her out of the room. "What has been going on since I left for Monterrey?"

"That satrap that goes by the name of Grisham has been strutting around like a peacock. You had better keep your eye on him, Luis. I found him sitting behind your desk one day."

"He was?" Luis asked with a grin, knowing that he would. "I am sure he was not sitting behind it long after you found him."

"Nope," Beatriz proudly said. "I took a broom after him. I can be quite fast if I set my mind to it."

"And formidable. You are a Montoya, all right. I am just pleased that you are on my side," Luis said, stopping before the stairs to help her up.

"What do I have to go up there for? It is not my bedtime."

"Your present is up there."

"Oh," Beatriz said, instantly taking the stairs. "In that case... but I thought you would be buying me fancy clothes, jewelry, a new rug for my bedroom, while you were in Monterrey."

Luis brought her into his bedroom and said, "No, Auntie. I have had this chosen for you since your blessed arrival four months ago."

"What is it?" Beatriz excitedly said, dropping her cane and clapping her hands.

Luis laughed with her, then realized that his tía was a child trapped in an old, alcoholic woman's body. He sat her on his bed so she wouldn't fall and then went to his armoire and pulled on the finial. A drawer popped out of the side. Beatriz said, "Luis! I did not know that was there."

Luis took out a leather thin, oblong box and sat along side her on the bed. "No one does. If you are wise, you will not tell anyone."

Beatriz did a locking motion on her mouth and grabbed for the box. Luis stopped her and said, "This is the only thing I have of my mother's, your sister's. Please wear it in good health, Auntie."

He flipped the latch and opened the box to reveal a pearl necklace. Beatriz gasped at the sight she remembered so well. "That is where my necklace went! You have it! How did you get it?"

"What?"

"She stole it from me!" Beatriz grabbed the necklace. "This was the last time I ever let your mother borrow anything of mine. I lent it to her to wear to your christening..." Beatriz's voice darkened. "She said she lost it!"

"What are you talking about? This was my mother's necklace."

"No, it was given to me by our father. She was always jealous of me. I got it, but she wanted it. She received a horse that Christmas. I never did get to ride that damn mule. Kicked me in the head once."

Luis asked incredulously, "My mother stole this from you?"

"Yes! Thank you for giving it back. Now where's my present?"

"But...," Luis said, pointing at the necklace.

"I see." Beatriz went into auntie mode and patted his hand and kissed his forehead. "This is a marvelous gift, Luis. I am glad to have it back. I am pleased she did not lose it after all. Thank you."

Grisham walked in and saw them in a familial mode and coughed and stepped back to the hall. Luis said, "Marcus! So good to see you."

Grisham, caught off guard by the use of his first name, awkwardly smiled and then nervously entered the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt you both, Colonel..." He tipped his hat to Beatriz. "Ma'am."

"What can I do for you, Capitan?" Luis asked, standing straight in his jeans and leather jacket.

Grisham's eyes did a quick once over of his Colonel and said, "Welcome back, Colonel. You will see that I have kept the peace here in Santa Helena during your absence."

"Wonderful," Luis said, then thought, A miracle...

Grisham proudly said, "This morning, me and my men cleared out Beggar's Canyon and are holding them in the jail."

"Excuse me," Luis asked, squinting his eyes at his minion.

"Yeah, we cleared it out. We have them all in jail," Grisham said, a little less forcefully. Then he explained, "I thought that..."

"You thought..." Luis said, shaking his head with an ironic smile. "Please, do not think, Grisham. The reason I have not cleared out Beggar's Canyon in the past was because it is not only a safe haven for bandolero, but there are also homeless people living there. Families. People who are unlucky. People who are not thieves, but are just trying to survive. People, Grisham, who the Queen protects."

Luis stared down Grisham for a moment, giving the Captain time to let that information creep into his mind while Beatriz was trying to put her necklace on but was having trouble with her arthritic hands. She looked up to get Luis to help her, but saw that Grisham was about ready to dig a hole to hide in.

Luis asked in a mocking tone, "Why rile the Queen when we do not need to? Do you at least have a plan of entrapment for her?" Luis sighed heavily, and shook his head. Help arrived moments too late. He came back just in time to see his men once again look like fools, again. He pushed Grisham to the hall. "Well, go do something! Do I have to think of everything? Get her when she comes!"

"Yes, sir!" Grisham said, saluting, and disappeared down the hall.

Luis heavily sat down on the bed again, his head in his hand. Beatriz patted his back and said, "So, you want this Queen of Swords..."

"How could you possibly tell? I have a pueblo to run," Luis angrily said. He stood and then paced. "I have a Governor breathing down my neck for the gold mine to be productive and for the Queen to be captured." Then he stopped and remembered. "Damn that woman! She saved my life today."

"She did what?"

"Never mind."

"All right," Beatriz said, a little more confused than usual when it came to her nephew's motivations. "If you want her, use sugar. Be sweet."

"I see that bottle of wine has affected you."

"Bunky, you are not going to get anywhere by sending inept men to do your dirty work. If you want her, you have to get her yourself. Propose a detente. Butter her up. Invite her to dinner. I will make a fabulous meal for her. Just as she is enjoying my apple tart, you set some rules."

"There are no rules! You are talking nonsense."

"Of course there are no rules... now. And look what you have accomplished. Nothing."

Luis looked at the old woman for a very long time, remembering all the advice she had given him over the years. They heard shouts outside, "La Reina!", and "Get her!". Luis heavily trudged to the balcony to look at the foolish game that happened every time the woman in black came to Santa Helena on a mission.

Beatriz toddled over to stand alongside him and shook her head. "Those are trained men. She is only one woman. What is the problem?"

Luis was going to speak, but Beatriz hushed him. "I will tell you what the problem is. She is a woman and women are resourceful. We think and feel with our heart and therefore will always find a way to win, or escape. Men think with their heads, usually, and the overall, or ways for her to escape, escapes you. You going about this all wrong. Think like a woman, Luis. Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest." Beatriz squeezed his cheeks for old time's sake. "Including that woman who wears black."

Luis couldn't look at the mess in the square, and looked at his aunt, thinking over her words. Then, his lips curled into a beautiful, healthy smile and his eyes danced with possibilities. "Interesting..."

~~Jo

CHALLENGE#33 for the week of 09-03-01
TRIO CHALLENGE: violin, straw hat, olive oil
QUOTE 2: "Start every day off with a smile and get it over with." -- W. C. Fields
DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks and who knows... Cleo I suppose. Was up too late with the TV on.

~~~~~

As Montoya played his violin, his only audience was his prize roses in the courtyard. He would be having a brunch to welcome a new Don and Dona to Santa Helena and thought his guests would be pleased with musical accompaniment. It had been so long since he was able to take a few minutes to relax in the morning.

His solitude didn't last long. Grisham walked into the courtyard. Since the Colonel was in the middle of a stanza, he stood by the door with his hands folded in front of him to wait. Montoya's gaze caught Grisham's face and dropped the instrument to his lap and smiled tightly.

"What?" Grisham asked, caught off guard by Montoya's sudden stop, and smile.

Montoya stood and carefully placed his violin and bow back into the case and told Grisham, "Start every day off with a smile and get it over with. Now to business. Why have you disturbed my solitude?"

"Colonel, once again, there was not olive oil on the shipment this week."

Montoya sighed and smiled tightly again. The smile didn't feel right and he scowled instead. The Dons had been on his back about the lack of 'necessities' on shipments for a while, as if he was the one who loaded them himself. After going through the pros and cons of a maneuver on his part, Montoya finally told Grisham, "There is a crate in my warehouse. Slip it in, not so anyone notices you doing it, but let them have olive oil."

Grisham's eyes grew large. "You are opening your warehouse to the citizens of the pueblo?"

"They can have a crate of olive oil. One crate. And try to be discreet."

"Discreet is my middle name," Grisham said, to which Montoya cringed.

Montoya shut the violin case and motioned for a maid to come and take it away. He adjusted his uniform jacket and walked tall to the door of the courtyard. Grisham said, "What are you planning?"

"To take a walk through my pueblo. Care to join me after you slip the crate with the others?"

"Why are you giving up something from your stash, Colonel?"

Montoya whirled around and walked back into the privacy of his courtyard and explained, "I have many, many things to deal with Grisham. I have a Viceroy from hell breathing down my neck, I have a thief with a sword that the peasants love, I have an aunt still suffering from a hangover upstairs, I can not find my cat, I did something to annoy Lucy again, and I have a Capitan who second guesses me. My plate is full. The last thing I need are senoras rioting over the lack of olive oil."

"Yes, Colonel. I understand completely."

"Will wonders ever cease?"

Montoya walked to the square of the pueblo to mingle with the denizens, and to his surprise, the crates of the latest shipment wasn't the top attraction. There was a long line of men and women leading to a small tan tent set up by the fountain. "What is going on over there?"

Grisham said, "A new arrival that came with the shipment."

"There is a new arrival to Santa Helena and I was not notified immediately?"

"I don't think this woman is anyone you'd be interested in, Colonel. She's not noble, at all."

"What is this woman doing in my square?"

Montoya walked by the line of people toward the front of it and saw the placard pinned by the tent flap. "Adivina" it read. Montoya groaned. "A fortune teller?" He shook his head. "That is all I need."

Montoya walked into the tent to see a woman dressed in what appeared to be a nightgown with large colorful flowers in the fabric. Her black hair was wrapped in a turban with a jewel that had to be fake pinned in the center. Her long fingernails were painted a fiery red as she flipped tarot cards over on the table. A man leaning close to hear every word she said. They both looked at the Colonel when he entered. Montoya shook his head when he spotted the overturned straw hat half filled with reales on the floor beside her foot. They can come up with reales to get their fortune told, but they can not pay their taxes.

The woman said in Jamaican accented Spanish, "You must wait your turn, Senor. There is enough Cleo to go around."

"I am Colonel Montoya, military Governor, not Senor. What do you think you are doing?"

The peasant who was getting his fortune read couldn't look Montoya in the eye, and ended up just leaving. Cleo said, "Wait Senor, I am not finished. There is so much more that I see for you."

Montoya said, "What I see for you, Senora, is jail time if you do not cease and desist this illegal operation this very moment."

"I am providing a service, Colonel," Cleo said with great respect. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "Hm."

"What?"

"I see great things for you, Colonel. Grab a chair, sit, listen. Cleo has much to tell you."

"And it will cost me how much?"

"Only one reale. Cleo is not a thief, I only need to be compensated to keep myself in business."

Montoya motioned for Grisham to complete his task to make the denizens happy and debated on whether to take a seat or not.

~Jo

TRIO: - shears, a chair, tomato
QUOTE: "If you are going through hell, keep going." - Sir Winston Churchill
QUOTE: "Sometimes the perfect person for you is the one you least expect." - Unknown
QUOTE: "Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers." - Tennyson
DISCLAIMER: Fireworks
CHARACTERS: Helm, The Queen
FEEDBACK/BETA: Even though I've been lax in the feedback department lately, I would of course love it, even though I know this doesn't make a lot of sense <g>
NOTE: The seeds of this came from a short email conversation with Li about her wonderful WIP, the West Wing episode last night, and a weird day.

~~~~~

"How was your evening, Doctor?"

As soon as her voice pierced the silence, Helm lifted from his bed and peered up through the darkness towards the window. Since it had once again been a hot evening, Helm had left the pane open before retiring; her long hair was draped over the sill as she had leaned in to surprise him.

Surprised him she had, but not really. Her midnight visits had become almost lackluster in recent weeks. There was no predictability anymore. Why he had fallen asleep in the first place, knowing she would probably make an appearance, he didn't know.

The fact that he was half naked didn't stop him from getting out of bed and walking to the window, to her. The way he strutted didn't escape his attention either. Let her see what she's been toying with all these months. "Are you going to stay out there all night, or do you want to come in? Make yourself comfortable. Take a chair. Put your feet up. Take a load off. I understand you have had quite an evening yourself."

"My evening did not have to deal with small talk with Montoya."

"No. You only deal with Montoya from afar. Let me tell you, fair bandita, making small talk with him is more strenuous than robbing his warehouse. You do things from afar. Everything you do is from afar. I am not used to that. I get up close and personal, I mingle with people. I do not slink around in the dark."

"I only came by to see how you are," she said, stepping back into the darkness, away from the window, away from him. But her voice could still be heard. "Since you are testy, and I obviously have disturbed your sleep, I will go."

"If you are going through hell, keep going," Helm said as he closed and latched the window.

He needed something to do. That woman was the life breath of him, but she had also made him think. Too much. What he had discovered about himself in recent days, he did not like. Not even escorting Rosita Lopez to Montoya's ball did the trick of loosening him up. In fact, the evening had made Helm feel worse.

Helm had decided two weeks before that he would try to settle down, make roots, in this faraway land that was still a puzzle to him. One of the first things that a man did in life was find a wife. One he could... what did a man do with a wife besides the obvious? His parents hardly ever looked at each other. A man did find himself a woman to have children, heirs. His parents let staff raise himself and his little sister. The only memory Helm had of his own mother was sitting in the drawing room doing embroidery or out in the garden with a set of shears. She hadn't needed to trim the roses, she had a team of gardeners at her disposal, but she had. Helm had thought the habit was to get away from his father. And who could have really blamed her.

He also needed friends. Sure, there was Ivan who would round up patsies for a weekly poker game. Besides the language barrier, Helm needed someone who thought the same way he did. Someone who had experienced what he had. Someone who could make him laugh when he was in such a foul mood, as he was now.

Helm started cleaning the implements on his work table, mostly for something to do. They were all already pristine; he was diligent about cleaning them right after each use. As he stood in the exam room, he could tell that he was being watched. The moonlight didn't betray the woman he knew was still out there. For a moment, knowing that she was still out there comforted him, and then make him even more uneasy.

Not that Rosita wasn't lovely. Not that she wasn't an expert at small talk. Not that she wasn't gracious or humble or funny. She was all of those things. Montoya's ball had been Helm's second date with Rosita, but he still felt as though he needed to put up a front for her. He had to keep his war experiences, his upbringing, his dispute with his family, his longings, to himself. He had tried on one occasion to 'break the ice' of his true self to her, even though they had really never stopped talking, about nothing. After Rosita had mentioned that she would kill for a glass of wine, he said he had killed many men, he will do it for her. It was a joke. It had landed like a lead balloon. Like someone he had smashed a tomato in her face. Like he smelled of body odor. Like he slapped a child. Like he had...

The knock on the door interrupted his meandering thought process. At once he was comforted, but insulted that the person who had knocked must be the women in black. No one else beat down his door in the middle of the night without screaming for help because of a medical emergency. Could she have really come back after that remark? Lately, he hadn't been able to stop the words that rushed to the surface whenever he was in her presence. Was she a glutton for punishment?

He opened the door, and there she was. He couldn't look at what he assumed would be a hurt expression on her face. It would only make him more upset. He only stared at the sword at her waist. Her boots. If he had to look at her face again, Helm decided that it would without the damn mask. Then the most unexpected thing happened, a fist came out of nowhere and connected with his cheek. Before Helm knew it, he was on the floor. "GOD!" Helm exclaimed as he held his face. "I think you roke my aw."

"Good!" the Queen lauded as she stalked into the office. "That was no way to treat a lady."

Helm ridiculed her with a prickly laugh as he worked out his jaw. "You? A lady? Since when?"

He made the mistake of looking at her, but was glad that they were in almost total darkness and could only see her silhouette. He thought to light a lamp, but decided against it. At this time, he liked the dark, and he knew that it was also one of the Queen's allies.

"If you do not want me to stop in for a visit, you could have just said so," the Queen said as she angrily paced the small room.

When she paced close enough, Helm grabbed her arm. "Then listen good. I do not want midnight visits. You either come to me in the daylight, without face accessories, or do not bother."

"You are not getting anywhere with Rosita?"

"Rosita is not a topic of conversation. We are talking about you now. You and me."

"What about us?"

"There is no us. That is the problem. Do you not get that?"

"Do you mean that you want--."

"I do not want what I have so far, and to tell the truth, I do not have much." Helm realized what he said and started laughing again. A full, robust laugh that she had figured out the heart of the matter, but more than likely didn't realize it. "The truth."

"You only want to know who I really am."

"It is not even that. Actually, this is about me."

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"Sometimes the perfect person for you is the one you least expect," Helm said as he sat on the exam table. "You are the perfect person for me, but not in the way that you think."

"Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers," she said leaning against the work table across from him. "So, enlighten me."

"I have been in Santa Helena for six months," he said, before pausing. Telling her the truth, that word again!, might not be a great idea. "Enlighten me about something, Queen. Do you speak to others like you visit me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you have conversations with people? Or do you just go about your business?"

"Of course I do."

"Do they tell you things?"

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and saw her eyes scrunch up with confusion behind that mask. "Not where the gold is, or 'please don't kill me', I mean real things. About themselves."

"Dr. Helm. People do not ask me to not kill them."

"Of course. You are too busy garroting them, they do not have time. Which I should not complain about. It does keep me busy."

The Queen turned on her heel and headed for the door. He stopped her before she could. "That was my way of punching you in the mouth," he said. "Just... stay... for a little while longer. I really want to know something."

They returned to their positions, across the room from each other, and Helm could tell she was doing him a tremendous favor and giving him the benefit of the doubt at the moment. So, he quickly said, "What do they tell you? These people you have conversations with?"

"Are you going to make fun of it?"

"No. I am sorry about that. Please, tell me."

"They tell me why they have been wronged. Why they need help. Their circumstances. Their past. Their lives. Or, in Montoya's case, how he is going to display my head once he finally kills me."

"You have even talked to Montoya?"

"There is time to chat during a sword fight. So, tell me Doctor, what is this all about?"

"I have told you things I have not told anyone. Ever. In my life. About the war. About my family. I cannot for the life of me understand that, with all the good and friendly people in this pueblo, it is you, a woman in a mask, that I have confessed some very bad things to, some of my regrets, my hopes. There is a padre just across town who would listen to me. It is his life to listen to the faithful. There are soldiers that probably lived through the same things that I have. But I do not talk to them. Why is that?"

"You feel comfortable with me?"

"I do not know why the reason is, but that does not sound right."

"People talk to me because I can help them. Could that be?"

"I do not need help."

It was the Queen's turn to laugh, which she did in a melodious voice that wasn't at all condescending. "You get upset because you talk to a woman. That sounds--."

"I do not need to you to save me, was what I meant."

"Is that so?" She started to slowly walk towards him. "Saving does not mean by fighting, freeing a physical body from jail, giving people reales. Why are you here, Doctor? That is one thing you have never told me."

"I have to be somewhere," he mumbled.

"Somewhere other than there? Where is there, Doctor Helm?"

"Where it is too real," he finally said after letting her words linger in the air.

"Too dire? Too frightening?"

When he couldn't answer her, because she had gotten it right on the money and she had to have known it, she tisked. "You thought you were running away from adventure, to someplace... safe, quiet, humdrum. Am I correct?"

Helm slightly smiled. "I did not run. I walked."

She matched his smile. "Sorry to disappoint you, Doctor, but people everywhere are in conflict. Either you can stand back and watch it happen and not get involved, or you can do what you can. You do a lot for us, Doctor Helm. I hope you realize that."

"When are you going to take off the mask?"

"When my mission is completed."

"And what mission is that? After Montoya is dead? There will be another one to take his place. After all injustice is righted? Lady, that will never happen."

"You have confessed things to me, so I should probably confess a little tidbit to you."

For the first time since he had been awaken, Helm was transfixed. "Keep going."

The Queen chuckled. "You act as if I am going to disrobe for you."

"Bare your soul to me."

"I cannot do that."

"For some reason, I knew you were going to say that," Helm said, deflated.

He had told her so much, a woman who he didn't even know, or know where she came from or why she dressed in such a fashion, how she learned to fight... On his way to the door to signal time for talking was through, she touched him. The leather of her glove hardly brushed against the hairs on his arm, as light as a feather, but his whole body reacted to it, making him spin around in surprise.

"I will say this," she said before taking a last look at him as if to finally decide if what she had to say could safely be said. "I do not know exactly who the target of my fight is against. I am pretty sure. All evidence that I have collected points in one direction, but I need proof before I can truly act. Doctor Helm, I try to help others, and irritate Montoya in the process, but I have a personal need to find out the truth and will not stop until I do. This might all seem pretty selfish, but it is the truth. I am trying to find out my own truth, of what happened, to avenge the death of a person who was everything to me. All wrongs will not be righted. I am probably going about this in the wrong way. Things may probably never change. I may die before justice, my justice, is served. But I cannot stop. And I will stop anyone who tries to stop me."

With that, she walked to the open door. Before she would confidently walk away from him that evening, he had to tell her something. "Queen."

She stopped and turned in the doorway.

"And you will return again another evening?"

"Only if I am welcome."

"My window is always open."

Moonlight reflected off of the Queen's face, illuminating her dazzling smile. "I really would prefer to use the door." As she walked back into the night, he heard her say, "But I take what I can get."

END

Disclaimers: Fireworks, my steadfast belief that Helm and Marta are made for each other, and also Eliza for setting up the situation.
Characters: See disclaimer.
Note: This is for Eliza. Don't mention what you don't want, hun. This is also for the Helm/Marta fans. I know you're out there. I can't be the only one. This is the missing scene from Eliza's second season episode, 'Unfortunate Choice', which premiered this week on the VS site. If you haven't read it yet, what's stopping you?? Go. Now. And while you're at it, read Marvelous Maril's 'Mirror, Mirror', the season opener: http://www3.sympatico.ca/maril.swan/qosvs/

CHALLENGE #36
TRIO: a mystery, a pistol, a shawl
QUOTE: "He who hesitates is a damned fool."- Mae West

~~~~~

The door of Helm's private quarters opened with a slight squeak. Helm had hoped that she would come. It had been days since he had last laid eyes on her and it had felt like an eternity. He kept his seat at his desk and drank in the aroma of her perfume. The fringed ends of her red shawl draped over his shoulders as she leaned up against his back. She started to nibble his ear as shocks of fire rippled through his body. He took her delicate hands in his and regarded them. For her to have worked so hard her entire life, her hands were still as soft as silk.

He leaned back as he brought her arms around him. "You're hot as a pistol, my dear."

"You don't know the half of it," she purred in his ear. As if to swiftly get to the purpose of her visit, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down. He who hesitates is a damned fool, he thought as he yanked his arms free.

"What the hell took you so long?" Helm asked as he stood up and spun around. Her flirtatious smile filled him up. He gently gathered her long, curly tendrils and put them behind her bronze, velvety shoulders. "Señorita Alvarado refused to be put to bed at a decent hour?"

"She is... occupied," Marta said.

"That is exactly the way I like her," Helm murmured as he gently walked her backwards toward his small bed.

Marta took a seat on the bed as Helm pulled his shirt out of his pants. He knelt down before her and rubbed his hands slowly up her legs.

A shot, then another, rang out in succession. It was a mystery that Helm couldn't ignore. He ran to the window, wondering who was injured. Damn it all! I'm busy! He saw the gathering of soldiers down the street. He looked back at his bed to see it empty. Whirling around again, he saw Marta returned from the exam room with his medical bag in hand. "Go see what happened," she said. She seemed petrified.

"It's probably the Queen at play again," he casually told her. That didn't seem to calm her down. Odd. Helm grabbed his shirt and headed for the door. Before he left, he told her, "Don't you move. I will be right back."

"I'll be here."

As soon as Helm ran out the back door, a soldier ran to him. "The Colonel's been shot! Come quickly!"

END