SCHOOL DAYZ

by Rodlox
Rodlox@hotmail.com

SPOILERS: none really.

REASON FOR WRITING THIS: response to a Challenge.

~~~~~

"Cicero once said 'A room without books is like a body without a soul'," Dr Engval told her class. "Now, armed with this assumption, what could we say about the archeological dig site we visited last week?" Three students raised their hands. "Yes Pablo?" calling on one of other students.

Pablo Grisham squeezed his eyelids shut as he answered, "That Governor Montoya had a large soul?" and waited for the laughter. Laughter that didn't come. He opened his eyes, and saw that their raven-haired teacher was writing on the blackboard.

"Pablo's right," she said. "Not only did Governor Montoya keep a large library that was later opened to the public, he also engaged in many civic projects that enriched the lives of the Dons and peasants. Add to that the fact that he managed to hold the country together in it's formative years, holding both America and Mexico at bay...and you have a legend right there."

"But what about reports of the abuses of power that he engaged in while he was a Colonel?" asked Jaq.

Dr Engval looked at Jaq, dusky skin looking at dusky skin. "Undoubtedly, they come from the same place as stories which claim that the Hidalgo marriage was rife with infidelity or that the Old San Luis," as they lived in the New San Luis, "played host to such diverse people as Zorro, Don Quixote, and even El Cid: old wives' tales. There is no evidence whatsoever which supports either statement."

As Dr Engval looked around at her class, the students all got very nervous. Now was the time, since class time was almost over, that she would hand out projects for them to do over the break.

"Lucy, you and Hobb's assignment is to write a biography of Governor Luis Montoya. Rafael and Ben, yours is a report on how the Hidalgo family influenced our nation's relationship with Imperial Russia.

"Paul and Amber, yours is a report on the Appended Acts to the Third Principle," the Principles being the founding document of their nation. "Donna, Ariman, and Jaq, the three of you are to write about the Legend of the Sword, and if it has any basis in historical fact." The bell rang. "Class dismissed," her large brown eyes twinkling with relief; teaching could be a joy at times...but it also could be wearying.

~~~~~

"Oh come on," Lucy said as the nine of them walked down the sidewalk between the two rose hedges; let the Americanos have bare lawns, civilized people have roses. "Come on, don't tell me you actually believe that stuff. The Legend is just that - a legend."

Pablo made a face. "I'm not so sure...I mean, look at all the references to the Sword Queen in historical documents of that time. If she didn't exist, why would they invent her?"

"Same reason Plato invented Atlantis," Ariman answered. "To provide a moral lesson. What better reason is there than that?"

Pablo wasn't sure he wanted to try answering that, so he focused his attention on the single white rose that was growing on a cluster of red rose vines. It was very pretty...

"Comprende?" Donna said into Pablo's ear, her voice startling him just as much as her blonde hair was tickling his ear. When he looked over at her, he saw that most of them had left - probably to get started on the projects. But lovely blue-eyed Donna was still there...and Ariman was too. "We were thinking about heading over to the deli for a bite to eat," she told him; "Would you like to come?"

Oh he wanted to, very much so...but - "I promised my mom I'd bring home a jar of pickles."

"Okay, maybe next time?" He nodded vigorously. "'Kay, bye."

THE END

SPOILERS: "Witness", "The Serpent", "The Pact". Takes place following 'Confessor' {to be posted} and "The Pact" ep....prequel to 'Ghosts' and 'Ride Hard'. {Yes, I finally begin to complete the circle}.

NOTE: Yes, I have trouble writing whumping scenes, alright??

~~~~~

Doctor Robert Helm drew his horse to a stop, letting her munch on the bushes. Right now, man and horse were in a canyon - not as steep as some he'd seen in the past few weeks. There were an abundance of tracks here, everything from wild ponies to coatis to large felines. Spider webs grew in the brush.

Pulling out the lunch he'd brought with him, he handed it to his mare, letting her crunch on the apple.

"That went well," he said with clear irony. What'd happened with El Serpente was just one more load for him to shoulder, another burden upon his back. The oath to save a life, against what El Serpente did for a living. No matter what anyone thought, it had been a hard choice...one that, in the end, he'd made the decision much like anything else in his life: weighing it against his own past. After that, it was easy to stitch the old coot up.

And the Queen... That was a subject he'd prefer to avoid -- though he did have to admit, even if only to himself, that she did kiss well. She knew what it was like to have held the bloody knife, to have fired the lethal shot....how unlike Senorita Tessa Alvarado.

He'd known people with split personalities before...like his old battalion's cook. If that was happening here as well, then it was too bad. If not....

Robert picked up a handful of creek side sand and shook his head, resolving to think about safer subjects.... Like when he'd given a house call to check on the young Senorita Hidalgo - and when he'd come back to town, learning that he'd just missed the infamous Mary Rose. Or, more recently, when he'd assisted in the delivery of twins to a happy family - he was just returning from there now, in fact.

"From a watery sea to a dry one," Robert muttered, letting the sand sprinkle down between his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sand dollar fused with a stone, and resolved to send it - eventually - to his cousin, who liked such things.

"'Alone, alone, all all alone'," Robert Helm quoted. "'Alone on a wide wide sea...'" he trailed off when he suspected he heard the sound of an approaching horse. Oh not her again! "Do I ever get a moment to myself?" he asked, starting to stand up.

"No," came the answer; and when he started to turn around, a blunt object impacted upon his head, knocking the doctor unconscious.

"That'll teach you to even try taking something that's not yours," the other rider said, then turned and left.

END

QOS characters belong to the lovely people who provide us with the glory and splendor that is The Queen Of Swords television series. The only ones that I make any claim to are the ones whom I invented - though TPTB are welcome to them.

NOTE: The Dominion of Canada only came into existence after the Fenians tried invading it - which was immediately after the Civil War.

This takes place in the past....think of it as a 3rd-Person POV flashback. :)

~~~~~

Not a single freckle marred this young lady's face, but the accent gave her away: Irish. "You are here by invitation only," Robert Helm growled at the woman his kid brother'd brought with him. Why, Robert wondered, why did Gill have to go exploring in that God-forsaken land? There's plenty of places in England for him to go.

"Oh come now, soldier," Agata told him, as Robert was still in his uniform, "We're not all bad. Some of us are actually pleasant."

Robert fixed an unsettling stare on her. "Undoubtedly, and that's why there's been terrorism in London and Belfast no doubt."

"We're here to enjoy ourselves today," Gill Helm says as he comes up on the two, clapping a hand on his brother Robert's shoulder, "not to fight, understand?"

Robert fixed his younger brother with an equally quelling glare, though Gill - being a Helm - was accustomed to it. "Yes, fine." First his brother refused to enter into His Majesty's Service, and now he was courting an Irishwoman? He followed the other two into the dining room; dinner promised to be a tense affair, certainly.

~~~~~

BELFAST, 3 YEARS LATER

"Ready men?" Robert asked the troops. Nods and 'yessir's answered him. He made doubly sure his pistol was reloaded before leading the charge in - better now than later, with the rebels all over you, he knew. The rebels here'd put up a valiant stand at this cottage, but in the end, it was inevitable that His Majesty's soldiers would prevail.

Peering inside the cottage door, Robert Helm saw nobody standing. "Clear," he said, indicating that it was safe for the rest of the troops to fan inside. All the fallen bodies in here had holes in them, fatal and not-quite-fatal gunshot wounds.

And there, crouched in a corner, was Gill himself, reaching for the pistol which lay in the grip of a fair-faced brunette. Robert's men surrounded him in an instant. Robert suspected that his brother had only been trying to remove incriminating evidence from her hand...but one couldn't be entirely sure just how much his loyalties had shifted. The soldiers grabbed Gill Helm and carried him back to face his brother. "Orders, sir?" asked a young lieutenant by the name of Cahill, one of the more trustworthy Irish.

"Take him away," Robert said, not quite meeting his brother's eyes. As he was taken away, "For God's sake, get your hands off me, I'm not a prisoner!" Gill yelled at Robert's troops.

"I'm sorry," Robert Helm whispered. Only the wind heard him.

~~~~~

HELM ESTATE, ENGLAND, TWO WEEKS LATER

The Irish uprising quelled finally, the Helm young men were back home in England. Right now, they were all in formal wear - dress uniforms for two of them, standing at attention, waiting. Robert Jr, Donald, and Gill Helm.

Their father, Robert Sr, entered the room, also in his own uniform, looking at his sons... his eyes coming to rest on Gill, the one who the ranks were now calling 'traitor.'

The disobedient Helm, though a young man, stood stock-still, as though bracing himself for an inevitable beating. What happened was far worse: his father tore off the topmost button from Gill's service coat. The symbolism was plain, at least for a Helm: the collar would never again shield his neck for very long.

Gill could see what was going to happen next, even before it took place: every Helm had their own weapon - his sister's was more of a dirk, but it was the symbolism that counted, being a Helm. Gill could already hear the mallet pounding at his sword, he could see the sword shatter into two large pieces - and an untold number of little ones. Disinherited.

Then he opened his eyes. His father, Robert Helm Sr, had placed Gill's sword flat on the table, still unbroken, and gave one tap with the hammer. No break, no lines to indicate weakening.

Gill had a bad feeling about this.

"I've arranged for you to go to India, Gill," his father said in a voice made gravelly by instructing soldiers for long years. "Consider this your last chance. Do you understand?"

Gill nodded, trying hard not to look too meek. This was just as bad as being disinherited - he had been told to go to violent and oft rebellious India...and not to return, short of a matter of life-or-death.

"The servants have already packed your things," Father said. "Say your goodbyes, and be off."

Gill nodded, and left the room.

It was then that the eldest Helm in the house turned to look down at his other sons. "Robert, Donald, you have my congratulations on fine military service. Now, which of you would care to visit your mother's family?"

"I volunteer," Donald replied. To him, those relations of his who served the law in Quebec had almost as hard a time with the French Québécois as he and Robert'd had with the Irish. Besides, Robert was courting a lady...while Donald had no prospects he thought highly enough for marriage - the only lady he thought appropriate for him was the daughter of the French ambassador - and that was as bad as Gill's affair with the Irishwoman, given current events.

THE END

This is a response to a challenge on a QOS list.....and I figured the only way to work "purple" into a story was either this or bring in the Romans. The other two parts are a "crashed ship" {sorta}...and a "horseshoe".

Trance makes it a little tough... but overall a PG-13 fic here.

~~~~~

The peon ran into the pueblo screaming - not quite bloody murder, but close enough for some people... like Colonel Montoya, when the peasant crashed right into him.

"There was a demon chasing me!" the peasant screamed. Montoya's self-restraint kept him from both covering his ears and slapping sense into the poor man.

"Really? And what did this demon look like?" Montoya asked, then thought, Red bandanna on her thigh, black leather and lace over the rest, that is my guess.

"Purple!" the peon blurted out. "Purple as far as the eye could see, with a barbed tail winding around. And when it opened its mouth, horrible sounds came out, sounds that were no language of man."

Doctor Helm was also in earshot when the peon was raving about the demon, and his head perked up, promptly excusing himself from a conversation with Duenna Alvarado. He had to hurry, he knew that much at least.

~~~~~

The long-tailed purple being was crouched down on the ground, examining some desert pony's thrown horseshoe.

Robert Helm managed to sneak up on the womanlike alien, since her kind's hearing wasn't as acute as other species'. "Looking for someone?" he asked, using the Vedran Imperial Trade language, something that hadn't been useful for a while - not much use for it when everyone is hhuman.

Trance spun around, tail flying up. Seeing him, she lowered her tail, slowly. "Do you know where there's a doctor?" she asked in the same language - the language everybody used on board ANDROMEDA too. "I need a doctor."

"You look fine to me...did you eat somebody who didn't agree with you?"

Trance managed to look offended by that. "My sex life is none of your business!" she blurted, then realized he'd meant it as a joke. "It's Beka, a friend of mine. She's hurt, got hurt in the crash just -"

"Yes, I heard." Half of Alta California probably heard...or at least the area around Santa Helena, he mused. "I suppose there's a reason one of your kind's way out here," Helm remarked.

It was hard to see if a purple alien was blushing or just suddenly shy - like right now. "Wellll," Trance fudged. "Beka was letting me pilot the Maru, and we sorta crashed here," she blurted out in the rushed way she had when trying to get something out of the way. "Actually, we crashed over there," pointing to a lump on the horizon.

"Lead on then."

~~~~~

As Trance led Helm into the Eureka Maru, he could feel memories. "She's this way," Trance said, leading him towards the command room, where the pilots sat... wounded.

When he could see who it was in the chair - though her hair was a different color, again! - he went: "Rebecca?" Doctor Helm felt like hollering in startlement. "What are you doing here??"

"I could ask you the same question, Robb," Beka bit back. "Trance, I thought you were getting a doctor."

"I did," Trance replied. "He's the doctor." She hesitated. "At least, that's what he told me." Beka groaned. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'll just let the infection kill me," Beka muttered.

"I have improved, you know - or not, since we haven't seen each other for -"

"Not long enough," Beka interrupted.

"Are you two lovers or siblings?" Trance asked with her usual innocent voice. Both Beka and Robert looked at her. "Well, Harper says that that's the only reason people would fight like you two were just now."

Robert chuckled. "What makes you think we're not both?"

Trance's eyes widened, but her pupils shrank. "I thought only Nightsiders did that."

Fighting a smile, Robert Helm opened his medical satchel. "Don't worry, I won't kill you....yet."

~~~~~

Anyone want to write the next part?

Challenge Response to Ch#5 c'mon, with a word like that, sheesh.

~~~~~

Tessa Alvarado, dressed as the Queen Of Swords, rode her black horse across the desert landscape in pursuit of the villains.

When she was alongside the commandeered wagon full of Montoya's gold, she decided to do a little commandeering of her own. "Pull over."

"Zi, zenuritah," the driver told her, a huge Havana cigar in the corner of his mouth...making part of Tessa's mind wonder why does it say 1946 on it?

"Who are you?" she asked, once the wagon had come to a complete stop. "And why are you here?"

"I have alwayz livd 'n Kalivorna," the driver told her.

"Tell me the truth," she insisted, one hand on her sword.

"Fine, you got me," the driver said clearly. "And I've got you -" when she looked suitably alarmed...

"...On national television, and syndication in 63 countries.

"Queeny, welcome to -"

"WHEEL," the audience shouted, "OF. FORTUNE!"

The Queen's mouth just hung open.

"If you'll be so kind as to turn the letters when their boxes light up," the host asked, "then we can get started."

The contestants turned out to be doctor Helm and Colonel Montoya from Santa Helena, and some scrawny man named B.Gates.

Several rows of boxes appeared behind Tessa abruptly; three short rows, to be precise. The words hinting at what it was appeared below her feet. Seeing what they said - 'the Queen of Sword's true identity' - Tessa reached for her whip.

The host appeared suitably cowed by that. "Okay, let's jump ahead to our next one." Even more rows appeared behind Tessa-as-Queen, and the hinting text changed to read 'Something said by Marlowe.' "Dr. Helm, you can spin the wheel first."

Helm stared at the wheel.

"Oh for God's sake," the host exclaimed, and was nearly shot by Grisham and Montoya for blasphemy. The host, once he recovered from a almost-not-so-minor heart attack, spun the wheel, showing the contestants how it was done.

The wheel slowed, and stopped on $25. "Now you guess a consonant," the host advised.

"B," Helm said. Two squares lit up. "'But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead.'"

Robert Helm looked satisfied with himself....a mood shattered by - "I'm sorry, Doctor Helm, but you only won fifty dollars."

Helm's eyes nearly bugged out. "'Only'?? I could buy a ship for that kind of money - and equip it too!"

The host looked heavenwards, praying for help.

END

THEME: Inspired by the song, "These dreams go on when I close my eyes" by C.Dion(?)

~~~~~

She leaned back against the mesa wall, letting the harsh sunlight seep through her every facial pore. This was the first time she'd ever been allowed out in the light of day, free to roam...this was a treat better than chocolate for a sugar junkie. She was free.

But someone else was not, not now.

She looked in the tranquil water that had pooled at mesa bottom, seeing the face look back at her. The hair was a redder cast to it, and the skin seemed to shift from dark to light and back again. And the eyes...

Her face, yet not hers.

"More vindication for me, how flattering," the Queen quipped, bracing her skull with one hand, and yanking up a cluster of hair with the other. Before her and Tessa's very eyes - the same pair, no less - barbules grew from one, tying it to the rest.

How did you do that? Tessa was curious to know.

A snort from the Queen. "I'm a phantom, remember? A figment from your imagination, and all that."

"Look, I'm sure if we go inside and talk it over, we can come to some sort of an arrangement."

More of a laugh than a snort this time, but still amused, the Queen remarked, "Ahh, you want to negotiate now that it's you in the position...but when it's me, you don't mind so much. Be thankfull I'm talking to you at all." That said, she used the new pen to write something, the lettering in the same hue as the hair'd been.

What??

"Oh nothing much, just the root of trouble for me." And the word was:

|> I |> I C

|> I |> L _ C

"What???" asked a shocked Tessa.

"My source...and the source of your problems.

"Our civilization is founded on that, and everyone we've fought so far, from Spanish ambassadors, to English sea captains, follows that. Show me where I'm wrong - show me an opponent who doesn't trace his or her culture back to that book - and I'll gladly change, gladly submit to your will," with the words `the way you'd doubtlessly intended' gone unsaid.

AND ON AND ON...

SUMMARY: Tessa learns more about the 'royalty' within.

~~~~~

No matter how hard Tessa tried to move her arm, it was not her commands that moved it anymore. She was trapped, worse than when her leg would fall asleep when she sat too long in Madrid.

Why are you doing this? Tessa inquired. Why are you entrapping me?

A shrug. "Part of my job's to see if you're ready - any of you are - to go back."

Go back to where? WHAT are you?

Both of the Queen's eyebrows went up. "And you call yourself a Catholic?!?" A sigh. "Watch," as she lifted one hand, the Queen's whip comfortably in it.

But now the whip was glowing with a sort of fire that didn't burn, a heat that was not physical.

Oh - my - Dios!

"Not exactly, Maria Teresa. Let's just say that the poet was right when he coined `there are more things in heaven and earth than..' shall we?" Tessa answered that with silence, untill -

You're the devil?

Hard laughter greeted that question-accusation. "A mite narrow-minded,aren't you. After all, even if I were, I made it possible for you to do your work as the Queen....I'm just giving equal time to this side of you."

You mean - you're not in control?

A quieter laugh, more somber. "Never was, and I do mean Never."

Tessa digested that fact. She'd trapped herself? Let me out! Tessa demanded, and grew nervous when a smile spread across the Queen's face.

"I thought you'd never ask," was the reply to Tessa.

Tessa found herself alone, still in the desert...but no longer wearing the Queen's outfit. She had the feeling - good or bad - that that set of clothes didn't exist in Santa Elena anymore.

Sequel in the "Letters Home" trilogy.

~~

"You're a doll, Vera," Marcus Grisham told her. "I ever told you that?"

Vera looked at him from where she was tying her corset back on. "I can think of a few occasions," she smiled back at him. There was something in his eyes... "Marcu, is there a troubling you?"

"Huh - oh, no, it's nothing, really."

Vera stepped over to him, wrapping an arm around his neck. "You cannot tell me?" with a hurt expression.

Grisham folded, figuratively. "Alright, but just remember," tapping her on the nose, "you asked for it. There's this guy with a weird accent, I think he's Dutch or Polish...'zur ran nov' or something like that."

"Suranov?" Vera asked, reflexively helping him.

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, that's what he said. Anyway, he's here under some sort of royal decree, hunting down the Queen of Swords." Grisham paused. "Vera, you okay?"

Vera's frozen, and it took a mental effort to return to the present. "I am. I was just thinking..."

"Anything in particular?" Marcus grinned.

Vera smiled, backing up so she could finish getting dressed. "When is your birthday again?"

~~

Maria Theresa Alvarado crossed herself, softly saying a prayer for the soul of Serena Lopez, whose husband'd been saved from drowning by the Queen Of Swords. It was a good thing pitchforks were multi-purpose!

As she prayed, she couldn't help but hear some of the peasants petitioning Padre Lopez; it seemed they wanted to borrow the icon of the Virgin Mary, take her through their fields and farms. Tessa seemed to recall a similar request last week, though that'd been to take the Infant Jesus on a walk, begging for rain.

And oh, how there'd been a downpour!

What do they want with the Virgin Mother? Tessa wondered, and bemusedly heard the Padre asking the same thing. "You took the Child out last week, did you not get your rain?"

"Yes, Padre," Pablo Yesinte replied; "And we want her to see the mess Her Son made."

Tessa made the sign of the Cross over her breast as she stood up to leave, hoping she wouldn't start laughing in Church, even at that.

As Tessa was leaving, she passed by "Oh hello, Vera," she said, greeting the young lady who was just coming in the Church doors.

"Hello, Tessa," Vera replied. "Tenga un dia agradable."

"You too," Tessa wished her well.

Vera Hidalgo walked silently up to the frontmost pew, after bowing on one knee every few pews in a show of deference and respect to the Lord's House. Once in the front, Vera did not sit; she went right to kneeling.

"Most Heavenly Father," she said quietly, ignoring the peasants and Padre's discussion, just as they could not hear her, "There is a fork in the path of my life, and I beg Your most Divine wisdom for help.

"A man has come, someone from my past." Another one, thought Vera sullenly. "I think he may mean to kill me if he gets the chance...but if I do nothing, he may kill the Queen of Swords," which, admittedly, meant only a little to her, as the Queen'd shown up to help her from her kidnapper.

"One translation," Vera whispered, with only the icon of the man on the Cross to hear her, "of what I was, is a kachina." The spirit of the people. "I pray, merciful Father, that you guide me to do that which right." Do I resume being that which I was? she wondered.

Vera remained kneeling.

~~

And here I am again, Helm thought to himself, acting as bait. But, if he were truthful with himself, he didn't mind this time. For one thing, it seemed as though a health wave had swept the pueblo and surrounding haciendas, making him unneeded...and if he had to play one more game of Solitaire...

Because of that, when General Suranov, an agent of the Tsar, had stopped by and offered two hundred reales for Helm's service, it was hard to say no...though Robert wondered how much of it was based on the fact of British and Russian goodwill after jointly defeating Napoleon; cooperation among allies and all that.

The not-quite-real part of the deal had been in the pueblo center, and a little loudly, to maximize hearing ears. Doctor Helm'd seen two Alvarados, one Hidalgo, three from the Magalhes family, seemingly the entire Ferreira brood, and a number of peasants.

Robert Helm was waiting at the tip of a triangular cliff's base, the wedge-shaped cliff heading off in both directions for at least a mile; not-quite-low hills surrounded the rest of this depression -- making the soldier in Helm nervous: this was perfect ambushing territory, which was the point, was it not? Suranov was waiting around a bend, waiting for his quarry to make itself known...waiting with soldiers borrowed with Montoya's permission.

And here come the 'thieves'... seeing the hired robbers approach. Helm put his hands up. "Don't kill me, please," he pleaded, his tone authentic for the situation.

"We'll put it under consideration," the head thief replied. "Get him!" And while the others were obeying that, Robert was thinking, No need to go all out on my account, folks.

And then, predicable as clockwork, there were the sound of hooves and a whip. The Queen of Swords had arrived. "You never learn, do you?" she asked one of the thieves.

"And neither do you," the General said, riding his loaned horse around the bend, looking at the Queen. "So, you've taken up talking," he said, looking at her outfit. "And perhaps other things." A woman??

"I always talk," the Queen replied. "Who are you?"

"You know very well who I am," Suranov replied in Russian. "Now, shall we kill you, or simply throw you upon the mercy of the Court?"

A piercing whistle split the air around them, a sound that had only one source. And the Queen's lips were closed.

Suranov looked around, as did a few of the soldiers with him, trying to figure out what was going on.

And there, on a hillcrest, was a fully-suited man, as slender as ever. Spanish clothes covered him, but Suranov still felt a flicker of recognition.

"You!" Suranov whispered. Far louder, "Don't bother with her, get HIM!" pointing his pistol at the hilltop figure. The soldiers were confused, but they did as they were told, some running straight up the hill, others going for their horses first.

The Queen was surprised, and not a little confused. Nonetheless, she decided to take advantage of the situation by getting the heck out of dodge - whatever a dodge was. Likewise, the Highwayman also left the area.

"Imbeciles!" Suranov roared. Seeing that his true quarry had eluded him again, he took aim with his rifle, and fired...

~~

"Here he is, sir," one of the borrowed soldiers told Suranov, as the soldier pushed Dr Helm forth.

"You witnessed the Highwayman, doctor," Suranov commented; "And you fled from the scene?"

"When she carries a sword," Doctor Helm remarked, "and we haven't been formally introduced, I get shy."

"Did you see a sword on him?" Suranov asked, correcting his grammar.

Helm raised an eyebrow. "Who said I was talking about your highwayman?"

"A pity then," the General remarked. "Does that mean you'll have no interest in treating the wound of this 'Queen of Swords'?"

~~

TBC?

NOTES: any errors in this story regarding Catholic Church practices or worship are entirely my own. the rain incident actually happened in New Mexico.

Response to Quote One of 3-18-01

"She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellow'd to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. " Lord Byron

~~~

The Queen of Swords paced around her horse, who was patiently chewing on only one of the hundreds of desert flowers which had bloomed when evening had fallen but an hour ago.

Looking overhead, her view of the Big Dipper, Orion, Taurus, and all the others, an unimpeded view. The glimmering of stars and the odd colour of the Milky Way nicely counterbalanced the sunless landscape around the Queen's feet. Starlight and that from desert fireflies danced in her eyes.

She exhaled, calmer than when she'd come out here. There were few places left where she could be herself, and it was wearing her down, perhaps too fast to handle properly. And not even kissing Doctor Helm had the soothing effect that walking under skylight did.

CROSSOVER....warning: uncontrolled use of cartoons may prove more detrimental than a Helm. :)

~~~~~

It was a typical day in Santa Elena. The sun was frying anything left out in the open, the birds were waiting for nightfall, and Tessa Alvarado was in Dr. Helm's office complaining of shortness of breath and heart palpitations...which hadn't been helped by the kiss he'd given the Queen the night before.

Just then, the peace and tranquility of this remote Mexican-Californian pueblo was shattered when the door to Helm's office was knocked open, and three black-and-white vaguely doglike creatures jumped in.

One of them was tall and slender, and wore a pair of pants. Another had on a red cap and a sweater and nothing else on his short little body. The third was a girl in a skirt, with a bow on her head.

"Hellllooo nurse!" the black-and-white dog-things cry out. Well, two of them.

"Actually," Doctor Helm replies, trying not to stare at the odd things that just barged into his office, "I'm a doctor."

With movements that certainly qualified as lightning-quick, the shorter of the two dogs that'd cried out put his arms over Helm's head, leaving a large bag over his head, and pulling his arms away lickety-split.

Feeling a little vulnerable, Robert Helm was then pummelled by lightweight bricks. Once they'd all fallen.

"What did you do that for?" Tessa wanted to know. Picking one of the bricks up, "And what is this?"

"That?" the taller of the criers answered. "That's styrofoam. Wakko, tell the nice lady why you dropped all those bricks on him."

"Dammit Jim," Wakko said, his voice deeper, "I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer!"

"Actually, my name is Robert," Helm replied.

Dot jumped into Robert's lap. "Can I just call you Mister Wonderful?"

Tessa started to stand up to give the doctor some privacy - suffering alone and all that - only to find that the way was blocked by the other two.

"Surely you don't think you're getting away that easily, do you?" Yakko asked.

"I think she does," Wakko replied. "And stop calling me `Shirley'!"

ONE HOUR LATER:

"I spy with my little eye," Montoya said, already hating this game...then again, after 57 continuous rounds of it... "Something beginning with the English letter B." The bar across the street where people tether their horses.

Wakko Warner looked all around, even pulling his eye out to look like and serve as a telescope. Putting his eye back right, he shrugged. "Is it," reaching into his little tiny bag, "this?" he asked, pulling out a strip of bacon.

Luis Montoya did not want to know how long the bacon'd been in there; though he was relieved at how small the bag was...up untill, after he shook his head No, the Warner brother pulled out a succession of objects. "Is it this, or this, or this...?"

Montoya stared at the pile growing steadily bigger. There was a side of beef, a beaver trapped underneath a sleeping bear, a bedpost, and a ship's boom being pulled out now.

Meanwhiles, Dot Warner was having fun with the rest of the pueblo's men. Fortunately for Vera, Gaspar was in Monterrey at the time.

"Well ride'em cowgirl!" Dot hollered, pulling Grisham in.

Marcus landed next to Robert. "Funny bumping into you here, captain," Helm said. "Come here often?" with the voice of one resigned to fate.

Dot came over and, without using a single not, joined the two ropes. "Let's go have some fun, shall we?" she asked them, leading them away.

"Um, aren't we too old for you?" Grisham asked.

Dot turned her head around - an inhuman act, more fitting an owl - and looked at the captain funny. "Actually, I was thinking of a game of hopscotch."

And even more meanwhiles still, Yakko Warner was having a card game with any cards he scrounged up in that magical fashion of his and his sibs. "Have any 7s?"

"Go fish," Vera said cautiously. The last time that'd been said - by Tessa - Yakko had run over to the horse trough and pulled out a 12-pound salmon.

"Ohh," Yakko said after pulling a card out of the pile and laying it flat. "A knife. I predict that tomorow, you'll have a ham sandwich."

It was Marta's turn now. Marta pulled her card, looking at it oddly. "What is it, Marta?" Tessa asked.

"Never have I seen such an object on any cards, Tessa."

"What? Lemmee see," Yakko insisted. Reluctantly, Marta showed him.

One instant, Yakko was perfectly calm. In the next, he was jumping from his seat. "SIBS," he hollered, "WE GOTTA GO -- NOW!!"

After whispering in Wakko and Dot Warner's ears, the three Warners left the pueblo in record time, pulling the cloud of dust behind them.

"What was the card, Marta?" Vera inquired. Marta showed it to her.

The Eraser.

From that day forth, nobody in Santa Elena complained about being bored.
~~~

NOTE: my next use of challenge items may prove a little more adult. {it also may introduce Marcus's sister - more competition for Tessa - genuine this time, not like with Yvonne}.

Continuation of MnD's #11 Challenge Response

Technically not an RR...more of an Adventure.

~~~~~

I'm pinned and this idiot's dead weight on me, Helm found himself pondering a few minutes later. Can't believe I blacked out. He managed to push the deadweight off of him in such a way that wouldn't attract attention in battle.

"HEY!" a human voice called out, running over. Helm muttered an imprecation.

"Lemmee give you a hand up, soldier," a Welsh-accented English voice said, holding out an arm.

Helm accepted it, getting back to his feet again. The young man before him had the fuzz of an unshaven soldier. "Take me to your leader," Helm instructed. The soldier nodded and did as ordered.

He led the English spy to a tented encampment safely outside the battlefield's valley.

"Lieutenant Robert Helm, recon expert, reporting for duty, sir." Even if my vision's a little muddled...that might just be shell-shock, temporary.

"'Helm'?" asked the man leaning over a planning table, his back to the newcomers. "Which one of them?"

Here we go again...daddy's little boy... "Robb, the son of Robert III."

"Ahh, and a fine admiral he was," standing up straight and turning around, showing his sideburns and bald forehead. "Senior Captain Guliver, Fifth Regiment. Tell me what you think of our plans for tomorrow, Lieutenant," motioning for young Helm to join him at the table.

Robb did as ordered, looking down at a map of the surrounding area. Most of the markers which represented 5th Regiment were arrowed into a surrounding of a nearby valley, which had -

"This is a village, sir, not a military outpost."

"I'm aware of what it is. The people there have been sounded out, and they are loyal to the French."

"Well who scouted it, sir?" remembering rank-respect at the last moment.

"One Lieutenant Rory Peterson."

Hell, not Rory, Robb thought, he couldn't scout his way out of a cowskin!

"Wait, there's hardly a garrison in this town, even if Peterson's reports are accurate."

"We can't take the chance that they aren't, Helm. We need to show these Frenchys that we mean business."

"Women and children??"

Gulliver looks at Helm. "Were you at [-], son? I saw - hell bell, I was attacked by - women who'd picked up the bayonettes from their dead menfolk...and the children who don't fight today - they'll grow up to fight against us tomorrow or the next day."

"A surgical strike," Robb said flatly. "Is that it? Is that what we've come to in this war? An us-or-them extermination policy??"

Gulliver got in Helm's face - well, technically, he towered over the spy. "If the French are allowed to rebuild, they'll launch an assault on Britain...and with the help of Irish insurgents, this time, they won't fail.

Taking a step back, "You can stay behind, if you so wish," referring to both staying behind in France, as well as staying behind and out of this battle.

TAG!

If nobody takes it, I'll go on....and give Helm nightmares about what's going to happen. *eg* :)

By Rodlox
Rodlox@hotmail.com

SPOILERS FOR THE LAST NEW EPISODE SHOWN IN US - The Hanged Man

This is actually my second challenge reply - the first is almost done...thanks to my beta!

NOTES: Yes, the title's from two different sayings. Spoilers for Naming of a Grisham and 1819, as well as the last third of The Hanged Man.

~~~~~

ALVARADO HACIENDA

Marta opened the package that'd come with the letter in the mail. A package that her brother had sent her, with something from her cousin Simon's realm in the south.

Unwrapping the ribbons and wrapping carefully, Marta then opened the box...and saw it. Pulling it out from captivity, she brought it up to the light, admiring the feel and the lovely light brown color. It was a fur overcoat.

Once a Bolivar hits nineteen, Marta reflected, we don't grow any more. Knowing that, it must have been simplicity for him to know what size to send.

The oddly sensual feel of the soft fur conflicted with what little Marta knew of where this thing had come from - an infant fur seal. Part of her was upset that it had been killed, though the polite part of her knew that a letter of thanks would be better. Perhaps I can word it just so...

But, either way, Marta knew, she had to make a decision.

~~~~~

MONTOYA'S OFFICE

Isadore had left mere days before Krane and his bunch had come - a fact which Marcus Grisham was infinitely thankful for! She may be annoying, but she's still family.

"It would seem that you have been very busy in my absense, Capitan," Colonel Montoya said, now that he was back in his pueblo, in the place where he commanded.

"You could say that, yes," Captain Grisham agreed.

"Am I correct in understanding that you were assisted in this noble act by no less a personage than the Queen Of Swords?" Montoya asked.

Grisham froze. He'd been at the crossfire before, but he still didn't like it - even when it was only verbal. "She dealt with Krane, yes sir....one man."

"Whereas you single-handedly put a stop to the evil horde," Montoya appended. The senoras had been most adamant that Capitan Grisham had been the lone gunman, the single fighter. "Honestly, Capitan, if it was this easy, what took you this long? Were you simply waiting for a dramatic moment for maximum theatrical effect?"

"Colonel, you wound me. Putting a stop to the remains of Ruego's men has always been a high priority for me," while I was here anyway...and don't you dare mock my extracurricular interests! "That it took this long...well, they're dealt with." ...not that I expect one silver cent in a raise.

"Yes, quite true," Montoya agreed. "They are to be executed at dawn...provided that the Queen of Swords does not interfere again." She's saved some of Ruego's men before..

Somehow, Colonel, Grisham thought, I can't imagine she'd do that.

"And now," Montoya said, "I can display my the full extent of my true benevolence, free from threat by Ruego's men."

~~~~~

ALVARADO HACIENDA

Tessa stood in front of her bedroom's full-body mirror, clad only in her corset and undergarments. She first placed her red dress in front of her, seeing how she would look, then replaced it with her blue dress.

She'd overheard Doctor Helm remarking on how many of the arrested soldiers and bandits had been clobbered - `from behind, no less' in his own words. Tessa smiled. She didn't mind letting the Captain take the credit for dealing with the ones in the town...particularly if Vera and the others were of like mind.

Looking from her dresser to her reflection again, this time with the dresses on her bed, Tessa mused on if her hair really needed a brushing that badly.

She had to be careful, she knew: the Queen was starting to go easy on Ma- Grisham, she mentally corrected herself. Heck, I even came close to smiling through the mask when he was jumping on the fuse...and I don't think that was entirely humor, Tessa thought; Pride, maybe? she wondered.

There was a knock at her bedroom door, and Marta's voice said, "Tessa, there is something I need to talk to you about."

END

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

Jesus's eyes widened at the sight.

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

~~~~~

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

"It's only lemonade," Marta said.

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

~~~~~

"You're not tired?" Tessa asked.

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

"None?" she asked, confused.

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

~~~~~

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

"Yes?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

"But - but -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

~~~~~

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

-Rodlox