Note: The characters from "Forever Knight" belong to Sony Tri-Star. The characters from "Xena 
Warrior Princess" belong to Renaissance Studios and StudiosUSA. The characters and scenarios from "The Mummy" and "The Mummy Returns" belong to Universal. All other characters and situations are fictitious and are of my creation. Please feel free to send comments to dante0220@yahoo.com .

Thanks to Emily and to Jarvinia for their beta reading.

Preface [Queen's Hut, Amazon Village]

Gabrielle, Bard-Queen of the Amazons, writes....

After a great deal of build up, the fateful meeting between David and Dijon finally took place. 
One would never have guessed, however, at the related events to that encounter. Nor what would 
follow it.

Chapter 1 [Dijon, Burgundy, France]

The late Spring skies crackled with lightning and smelt of the drenching rains falling from the 
sky. In a display which would have made Hollywood's best special effects gurus green with envy, the 
storm produced a kaleidoscope of light, cannon-like sound bursts, pelting downpours, and a howling 
wind whipping through the streets. Despite the break from the recent unseasonable heat wave, most 
of the city's denizens stayed in their homes, choosing to remain dry and secure while awaiting 
calmer weather.

In the midst of the city, the Palace of the Dukes and Estates of Burgundy stood tall and majestic. 
Built to withstand sieges and heavy military activity, the granite stones shrugged off the wind 
and water on that evening just as they had for centuries. The tour groups had come and gone with 
the sunset and the brewing storm, leaving the facility alone with its decorations, battlements, and 
ghosts.

About 10PM, a commanding figure descended from the unsettled skies. Looking all around, he made sure that nobody was in the area. When he felt safe, Bertrand du Dijon stepped out of the shadows. As much as he detested having to skulk around his ancestral home, the Enforcer knew that it wouldn't be prudent to run into a gaggle of mortals on any of his visits. "If my father knew how the 
rabble were trampling through his home, he would have them all slaughtered on the spot!" he exclaimed angrily. Producing a heavy iron set of keys, he unlocked an oak door on the southwest side of the facility. As the door creaked open, a musty smell wafted up to meet him. To most people, this door's purpose had remained a mystery for the previous 350 years. But to the vampire, its purpose was crystal-clear: to keep the peasants out.

Descending the stone staircase, Dijon made his way through the narrow passages, pressing deeper 
and deeper into the Earth. After a half-hour hike, he stood before another heavy wooden door. Using 
yet another iron key, the former mercenary let himself into the inner chamber. Once inside, he used his enhanced vision to take in the entire room. Surrounding him, the stone sarcophagi of his ancestors presented an impressive sight. "Bon soir," he greeted. "It is I, Bertrand, who has been too long gone from this place." Not expecting an answer, he inspected the coffins, wiping dust off a few of them, and recalling the people who now slept there. His father, Philippe, had ruled this 
region with an iron hand, influencing policy decisions from England to the edge of the Christian 
world, and, through his alliances with England and then, with France, determined the outcome of that 
series of conflicts which those academic fools liked to call "Le Guerre d' Cent Ans" or "The 
Hundred Years War". His brother, Charles, was aggressive but fancied himself invincible until his 
untimely defeat and demise at Lake Constance by the Swiss. With him went the past glories of the 
duchy.

"If only you had not listened to that French upstart," the vampire-knight hissed to his father's tomb. "I would have been here to keep our fortunes afloat." As he said those words, his mind drifted back...

*****

[Fall, 1443]

Bertrand du Dijon hurried past the servants toward his father's master chamber. In his mind, he 
wondered why he had been recalled from the battlefield. In that regard, the mercenary had been a 
huge success, mopping up both French and English opposition wherever he found them. However, he 
wondered about his father's policy. Since the French fortunes had risen, the latter was trying to get on the side of their so-called king, Charles, much to his son's chagrin.

Knocking on the door, he asked, "Father?"

"Bertrand?" the other replied.

"Oui," the knight answered.

"Come in," Jean bade.

The younger man entered impatiently and strode up to the table where his father sat waiting for him. The room was covered in luxurious trappings: tapestries, a fine bookshelf, carpeting, and a gigantic stone fireplace off to the side. 

Behind his table, Philippe du Bourgogne gave his son an imposing stare. Even though his hair was 
turning snowy-white, his face worn heavily by time's passage, and his gait hobbled by old war wounds, the Old Man still commanded the respect of his offspring and wouldn't be questioned on any point. "We have a problem, my Son," he noted.

"What problem is that?" Dijon demanded. "Our armies are winning in the field. The cloth factories are producing well. Our blockades are cutting into English exports. Tell me, what is the problem?"

The older man smiled. Sometimes, his son could be so dense and not see the forest for the trees. 
"And what about our diplomatic efforts, hmm?? While you've been out achieving glory on the battlefield, I've been negotiating," he reported.

"Those diplomats talk too much. They'll addle your brain," the knight scoffed. "Besides, what did the French Dauphin...er...king have to say for himself this time?"

Jean bristled and slammed his fist angrily on the table. "Charles is the French king, and you would do well not to forget that! Any claim that the English might have had is no longer viable. Besides, you have been the cause of much debate in those circles as of late."

That comment got Dijon's attention. "Me? And why is that? I haven't done anything to those fools in 15 years at least!" he laughed.

"It is what you and your troops did at Compeigne and Rouen, Bertrand. You and your English allies," his father sighed heavily. "You committed a massive faux pas in judgment."

The son scanned his memories of those places. In 1430, he had only recently become a knight. Against his father's wishes, Dijon had volunteered to serve with his older brother, Jean du Bretage, at Compiegne. There, they had defeated the French and captured their miraculous leader, Jeanne d'Arc. After two years with the woman, the English burned her in Rouen's old marketplace as a witch. Ever since, people had looked at him with scorn. Of all of his fellow soldiers, he remembered one mysterious Brabantine, Nicolas, who had soundly criticized him before and after the execution. 
"Weaklings. All of them," he snarled.

"Nevertheless, they are now in control of things. You have become a hindrance and a marked man, 
Bertrand," Philippe advised him. "What should I do with you?"

The knight shook his head furiously and cracked, "They think they can kill me, do they? Well, let 
them try! I was perfectly within my rights to sell her to the English as I did. Besides, your precious king failed to ransom her. Let him worry about it. Besides, what would you do to me?"

The older man shook his head furiously and growled, "Don't be so stubborn. Do you think that I want to tell you this? You are my son, my flesh and blood. I am trying to save your life."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

Philippe scratched his chin and started, "The Pope is putting together a crusade to stop the Turks. He has offered to let you be one of the leaders."

Dijon laughed in disbelief. "Me? Lead a crusading army? Surely, you're not taking this seriously, are you?"

"I am," the other man gravely asserted. "And I am telling you to do the same. My only other 
option is to cast you out."

"Cast me out? But, I'm your son! You can't do that! Don't tell me that damnable agreement is that important to you!" Dijon spat. Seeing his father's continued earnestness, he roared, "It is that important to you!"

"The family must survive, Bertrand. If you so choose, you may leave for Rome immediately with my 
leave," the elder man informed him, punctuating his statement with an air of finality.

The younger man arose in disgust. "So, you think you can save yourselves by sacrificing me? Well, 
I'll outlive all of you! Do you hear me? I'm going to fight as you've asked me to, but I'll be back to see you in your grave!" he bellowed. Picking up his sword, he stormed out of the chamber and out of the castle.

Philippe sighed heavily and a tear formed in his left eye. How he wished that Bertrand would understand that he was being forced to do this act. "My Son, be careful what you wish for. May God watch over you," he continued wistfully to the empty chamber.

**** 

[Modern Day]

Dijon studied his father's tomb once again. His boast had indeed come to pass through a weird twist of fate. While fighting in the East, the Crusading army faltered badly against the Ottoman Turks. Slipping away from the field, he had tried to find passage back to Europe. However, in Istanbul, the vampire who became his master, Ali, brought him across. From that point on, he had learned about the way of the vampire and then, the way of the Enforcer.

"I told you, Old Man," he smiled to the cold stone slab. "And I will triumph over the last of my enemies as well. The Brabantine knight and a particularly infuriating mortal will both die before 
I'm finished! Rest assured of that!"

Sensing that the sun was about to rise, the former knight settled himself on the floor to wait out the day. The battle would come soon enough for his liking....

Additional notes: The argument between Xena and Cybelle took place in "The Die is Caste" from the "Amazon Scrolls" series. Also, the last run-in between Dave, Angie, and Stuart Dubois took place in "The Honeymoon" earlier in this series.


Chapter 2 [Amherst, MA: The Next Morning]

Cybelle scratched her head perplexedly. Her packed suitcase sat on the bed. The coffee maker and 
stove were both turned off. The house was in order. Still, she felt as if something needed to be done. "What is it?" she wondered.

"What is it, Auntie?" Deirdre inquired, entering the room and looking about. 

"It's nothing, Deirdre," the elder priestess advised. "I'm just making sure that everything's done before we leave."

"As far as I can tell, you got everything finished. And Grandma Dubois has Jonny. But, where is Uncle Mike? I heard you two arguing last night," her niece noted.

Cybelle sighed heavily. Just the night before, she and her husband had argued about her newly adopted lifestyle and its implications. He had demanded that she be a simple housewife. She 
refused, citing her right to do what was best for all concerned. Earlier, he had stormed out the door, 
speeding off in his truck. "Your uncle and I had issues to resolve. Now, come. I hope to be gone before he comes back."

The younger woman nodded in agreement. The last thing she wanted was to witness another argument. She still remembered her aunt's dispute with Xena back in the Amazon village concerning her father and grandfather and had no wish to see the former's temper flare again. Bad enough that Papa's upset.

At that moment, they heard a car screech to a halt outside followed by two doors slamming. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.

"Cybelle! Get in here!" Mike demanded.

"Not now! I've said everything that I'm going to say!" she bellowed.

"Stuart, I told you she was being unreasonable!" her husband stated.

Stuart Dubois snorted indignantly, "Stay here. I'll deal with this." Despite all of his efforts, his children were a grave disappointment. He wasn't about to let his daughter stray down this fool path and wreck everything that she and her husband had created for themselves. Clomping loudly through the living room and down the hallway, he barged in on the two priestesses. "What is this crap?" he demanded.

"None of your concern, Dad. Just leave us be," Cybelle told him, turning her back to him.

" 'Dad' ? " Deirdre whispered fearfully, staring at the intruder and quaking. 

"You'll face me when I'm talking to you!" he roared, seizing Cybelle's arm. 

His daughter wrenched her arm free and spat, "Since when did you ever have anything worthwhile to say?"

"Why, you!" he growled and backhanded her hard across the face.

Deirdre quaked with terror. This man was her grandfather. The one who had terrorized her father, forcing his personality to split into two parts. He was almost akin to the Boogey Man at least 
from what her sisters had related to her. Despite these feelings, she made herself stand tall and firm. No matter what their relationship, the man had no right to touch an Althanorian priestess. "Leave her alone!" she challenged.

"Who are you?" he snarled low. "Another freak? You aren't worth my time!"

"Keep…keep away from us!" the younger woman directed.

"Right," he chuckled in disbelief. "Make me, little girl." Before she could react, he crossed the room and pushed her back into the china cabinet.

Landing awkwardly, the young priestess tried to stand again, but her ankle protested the action. "By the goddess, I've sprained it." she grimaced. Worse still, she had cut her hand on the cabinet's splintering glass.

Fortunately for her, the elder man had forgotten about her for the moment. Summoning all of her concentration, she created a portal and crawled toward it.

To her own credit, her aunt managed to create one windblast, driving the attacker backward. But, 
due to her condition, it wouldn't last. "Go!" she told her niece. "Get help!"

Deirdre nodded and reluctantly disappeared into the mist. 

******

[Tucson]

In the predawn darkness, everyone in the Dubois household slept fretfully. The impending situation prevented anybody from getting any extended sleep. Still, they managed to doze off and on, managing to gain some rest.

Dave stirred at about 4:30AM. Something wasn't right. But then again, when is it these days? he wondered impatiently. Still, this feeling was different from the rest of the situation. Pondering the feeling for a second, he discerned that it was coming through the mental link he shared with his sister. Something was happening back in Massachusetts at that very moment.

Angie blinked her eyes in the darkness beside him and asked, "Dave? What's going on?"

"Nothing that I can tell," he fibbed, trying not to worry her.

She elbowed him in the side and declared, "You know what I'm getting at. I'm feeling something in 
my head. Something's going on."

He sighed in frustration. If his wife felt it too, then something was definitely wrong back there. "I'm going to check on the girls. Be right back."

She nodded earnestly. As with her husband, she knew they didn't need anything else to deal with right now. "Hurry back, okay?"

"You betcha," he agreed, walking out into the front room. On the couch bed, he heard Steve snoozing away. Across the room, Karen slept restlessly on an air mattress. Then, he felt a powerful shove pushing at him. "What is going on?" he whispered.

Then, he felt Deirdre's pain followed by Cybelle's duress. Grasping his head, he started to stagger across the room.

"Papa! Mama!" Lauren and Karen screamed from their room.

"That cinches it!" their father growled, rushing into the other bedroom. "Girls, are you all right?"

The nine-year old twins nodded reassuringly. 

"We are, Papa," Karen advised. "But, Dee-Dee's hurt!"

"I…I know," he concurred, wincing at the throbbing in his head.

At that moment, Angie, Karen, and Steve barged into the room. 

"Dave, what's going on?" the oncologist wondered. "I can feel Cybelle and Deirdre." Hurrying over to the bed, she tried to comfort their daughters.

The medievalist felt the pain getting worse. Soon, it would be unbearable. Then, the spasms started again. "No…not…now."

Karen rubbed his shoulder concernedly. The last thing they needed was for the Child to take over. "Calm down, it's going to be okay," she tried to soothe.

"No…not all…right," he snarled. "Somethin' bad's goin'…on." Trembling on the brink, he gripped 
the side of his daughters' dresser.

At that moment, mist poured into a corner of the room, forming into a shorter version of the familiar column. From that portal, Deirdre crawled laboriously into the room. "Am I home?" she asked fearfully.

Angie rushed over to her daughter's side and recoiled at the sight of the latter's condition. "Deirdre? What happened?" she demanded, embracing the injured woman.

"Mama…it was awful," she whimpered, rubbing her ankle. 

"Who did this to you?" Dave demanded.

"Now, Papa…please," the priestess advised. "It wasn't Auntie's fault."

"What wasn't her fault?" the elder Karen pressed.

The twins gasped. "Bad man with Uncle Mike. Big man."

"Who?" Angie asked.

"There was an…argument this morning. Uncle Mike drove off and came back," Deirdre sobbed, "We were hoping to be gone before that, but he brought company."

"And this man…did this to you?" her father pushed with increasing fury. "Who is it? Your mother 
asked you a question."

"It was…Grandpa. Aunt Cybelle called him…'Dad'," she confessed and broke down in a teary fit.

Both Karen and Steve glanced nervously at their former classmate, anticipating the eruption, which 
was about to occur.

Within Dave's head, the Child screamed in terrible fury.  THAT SONNUVA...!

For his part, Dave shook violently, gasping for air, growling in rage and anger. Turning to his daughter, he snarled, "And he did this to you? Answer me!"

"Dave, stop it!" his wife lectured although she knew the words were futile.

Deirdre winced again. "Arrgh, he's still beating on Auntie! Papa, make him stop!" she cried.

"And he did this to you?" her mother asked.

"Yes," she whispered low.

The oncologist felt a surge of anger within herself. For once, she shared her husband's fury. She still remembered how her father-in-law had treated her on the day after the wedding. Now, the miserable lowlife was wrecking more damage. I should let Xena handle this one, she told herself, starting to reach for her sword.

But, before she could act, Dave darted through the dissipating mist, leaving everyone scrambling to find a way after him.

[Amherst]

Dubois watched his daughter stumble away from him and exclaimed, "Hopefully, this will teach you 
some manners!"

"Go to Hell," she muttered.

"What! I'll teach you!" he bellowed, swiping again at her. "I never taught you anything about this garbage!"

She raised her head slowly. From within her daze, she sensed something familiar. Her eyes bulged. No, not him! Not now! 

"Who now?" the enraged man laughed. "Hey! You out there! Take a number and I'll deal with you 
later."

"Oh, I think you'll see me now, Asshole," a voice snarled.

Dubois smiled and turned to face the newcomer. "Well, well, if it isn't the Prodigal Son. I was wondering when I would run into you again."

"I would have to be sorry if I were to be a Prodigal," the professor growled, advancing on the 
other. 

"Where's the other one? Did she go crying to you?" the older man baited.

Cybelle interjected, "Dad, don't push him!"

"Why not? What's he gonna do? Breathe on me? He wouldn't dare!"

"Try me. That was my daughter you manhandled!" the younger man snarled.

His father swung his fist at the enraged professor, but came up empty. "Stand still!" he roared.

"What? And let you deck me?" the younger man snickered darkly. "I don't think so." His left eye 
glowed with a yellow hue. "It's time you learned a lesson for a change." 

The elder Dubois laughed incredulously, "And what are you…?" Then, he felt himself being lifted 
off of the ground. "What? What's going on?"

"Just the garbage you taught to me," his son informed him in a voice dripping with rage. "I warned you before. Lay a hand on my family, and I would take it out on your hide. You just wouldn't listen, would you? Time for you to learn your lesson!" With a flicker of his eyebrow, he flung his father through the air and against the nearby wall.

"H…How?" the attacker wondered in amazement. "Th…That's impossible!"

Dave smiled wickedly and closed his eyes, allowing the Child to surface completely. "Nah. Not for us. 'Sides, I'm proud of Big Brother for smackin' ya," the latter replied confidently. 

Cybelle shook her head fearfully. Bad enough that she couldn't intervene, but now, he had released his darker persona. Given how Dave felt about their father, she feared the worst.

Dubois quaked furiously and managed to stand. "You always did like dramatics. I'll break you of 
that!"

The Child hissed, "Ya'll try!" Dropping his shoulder, he rammed the older man in the chest, pinning him against the wall. "Now, listen up! I would love nothin' better than to end this permanently, but then, I would be like ya. Go ahead! Call us freaks again! I dare ya!" Going nose to nose with his father, he spat, "Take a good look at your handiwork!"

Dubois stared into his son's enraged eyes and stiffened at the sight. "My…God. You…you," he 
stammered.

The Dark One snickered with grim satisfaction. After years of pain and suffering, that priceless look made everything worthwhile. "Yes, me. Ya created me! And how does that make ya feel?"

"Get away from me!" the other man protested, managing to push the Child back and freeing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pistol and aimed it. "I'll kill you!"

The injured priestess shouted, "Stop this!"

"Tell 'im to put it down." the Child shrugged. 

For a brief second, Dubois hesitated. Then, he fired the weapon. "Something as warped as you 
doesn't deserve to live."

The other man erected a psychic shield, easily deflecting the projectile. "That was your last chance, Old Man," he growled, advancing on his father. "C'mere. Ah owe ya a whooping!" 

Suddenly, a whirring noise split the air, and a silver blur cut between the two men. 

"Crap! Xena, this is mah fight!" the Child roared.

The Warrior Princess caught her chakram and strode purposefully into the room. "And if you kill 
him? Tell me, what purpose will that serve?" she asked.

"He needs to pay!" he bellowed indignantly.

"And he will," she advised him. "But, you can't step over that line. He will answer for what he's done. Don't make me have to fight you as well."

"Like ya would," he snarled.

The Thracian warrior arched her right eyebrow and indicated, "If I have to, I will." Drawing her sword, she stood ready for combat. "Don't make me do this."

Steve yelled from the hall. "Dave, listen to her! I made a call to the State Police and they're coming!"

"Good. They'll arrest him," the elder Dubois huffed, climbing to his feet once again.

"They're coming for you," the FBI agent indicated. By now, the sirens were approaching quickly. 
"Dave, let him go!"

The Child snorted and laughed, "Too bad. Old Man, stay out of mah way." With that, he concentrated, allowing Dave to resume control.

"What?" he wondered, looking about the room, "I'm back." Glancing at his friends, he noted, "Thanks, Xena for reminding You Know Who about his obligations."

"My pleasure," the warrior concurred. "Now, let's go. I have no wish to run into the authorities."

"Right. Take off," he indicated. "You can tell Angie it's okay to come here."

Xena smiled knowingly. Even half-dazed, he can still plan on his feet. Giving the elder man a 
stern look, she asked, "Cybelle?"

"Yes," the priestess agreed, willing up a portal. "Tell Angie we could use her here."

"Indeed," the Warrior Princess concurred while stepping into the mist.

Sensing that the police were about to arrive, Cybelle managed one more spell. Even though she was 
still clad in her priestess robes, the officers would see her as a normal woman.

Steve nodded in approval. Hopefully, Stuart Dubois would finally get his just desserts this time. Meantime, he needed to keep the elder man there. "Mr. Dubois, I'm placing you under arrest."

"Right," Dubois cracked. "And who are you pretending to be, Petersen?"

Steve bristled at the comment, but kept his composure. Producing his ID, he retorted, "This is serious. As a FBI agent, I'm placing you under arrest for several counts of child abuse not to 
mention two counts of assault and battery."

"You aren't putting those things on me! I have rights!" the enraged man shouted.

"And I am prepared to read you those rights," the agent stated firmly, producing his pistol. "Don't make me hurt you. Now, put the gun down and place your hands on your head."

Dubois looked at his son and vowed, "This isn't finished yet! Mark my words! My lawyer will have 
me outta jail within the hour!"

Dave twitched but kept his composure. After taking a deep breath, he stated, "Oh, you're done all 
right. But, if you come after us again, I'll make you sorry." Locking glances with the other man, he added, "Truly sorry."

By that time, the police had arrived and were rushing into the house. "Agent Petersen?" a voice 
called.

"In here, Sergeant Rivers," Steve called. When the uniformed police officer appeared, he added, 
"This is Stuart Dubois, the man I told you about. I was about to read him his rights."

Rivers grinned. Dubois had badmouthed him publicly on a few occasions. Funny, how life gave one 
the chance to get even. "Allow me," he requested. After the other nodded, he began reciting the 
Miranda mantra. When he had finished, he glanced up at Dave and inquired, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little upset," the medievalist informed him. "My step-daughter and sister are 
banged up though."

"Was that the woman on the couch? Brown hair, about 5'5"? There's a doctor treating her right 
now. I don't know how she got out here so quickly, but I guess it's not wise to look a gift horse in 
the mouth," the state officer continued as he pulled his prisoner onto his feet.

Dave and Steve smiled at each other. No, best not to answer any unnecessary questions at this 
point. 

"Is there anything else?" Rivers asked. "I will need a statement from everyone involved."

"Give us a minute alone, will you?" the FBI agent requested. When the other had left, he asked his 
friend, "See? Everything's going to work out. Now, let's get those statements recorded and get back to our business at hand. Besides, Karen's waiting back in Tucson with the twins."

Dave shrugged noncommittally. "For me, it'll never be over, Steve. Today was only one victory."

"But it was a big one. Come now, you need to think about the bigger matter at hand," Steve told 
him.

"Dijon," the professor agreed. "Right. Let's get this paperwork out of the way." After rubbing 
his friend's shoulder, he helped his sister to her feet and helped her down the hall.

Chapter 3 [Amherst]

The police stayed for about two hours, questioning everyone thoroughly and scribbling away in their notebooks. Judging by the damage done to the room, they didn't exactly believe that their prisoner had damaged everything by himself. Sergeant Rivers glanced over at Dave on more than one occasion during these proceedings. While the professor seemed calm now, he always looked like a beast ready to pounce on something. But then, when hasn't David been like this? he asked himself, recalling some of the bitter arguments between father and son. 

Dave glanced over at the police officer and asked, "Did I answer everything, Sergeant?"

"Within reason," the law enforcement official agreed. "Given the history between you and your 
father, nobody's going to question how you reacted. I do wish that you would get some help for that 
temper of yours."

"He is," Angie interjected, entering the room with her med bag in tow. "He's on a regimen of herbs and reduced caffeine-intake, among other things. Trust me, we'll get there, Sir."

Rivers nodded and smiled. While they hadn't met, he had heard how good an influence Angie had been on her husband. "I think you have a lot to do with that, Dr. Dubois."

She flushed pink and shook her head, "Well…I'd like to think that I have something to do with it, but if Dave didn't want to do it, it wouldn't happen."

The officer pondered this point for a second. At least, David's separation from his father seemed to be doing some good. "I'll process the paperwork and place these statements into the file."

Dave motioned with his eyes toward his father and asked, "And what about him? What now?"

"That depends upon your sister and her visitor," Rivers replied. "If they come forward, we can 
finally nail him."

"You can count on me for that, Sir," Deirdre agreed, limping slowly into the area. Her arm and left ankle were bandaged tightly. Glancing at her grandfather, she continued, "That man's done enough damage to this family for three lifetimes."

The sergeant scratched his head curiously at her statement but chose not to pursue it further. "I'll be in touch," he concluded, closing his notepad. "Do take care, folks." 

Dave chuckled darkly, "We'll try."

Angie nudged him knowingly.

As he was being led out of the room, the elder Dubois spat, "Just you wait! I'm going to tell the world that you're a freak! You'll be hunted down like an animal!"

Rivers cut him off. "That's enough! Let's go!"

Dave shook furiously as he watched his father being led from the room. "He's already ruined my childhood and now…" he whispered.

Angie embraced him tightly, soothing, "No, he won't. He's going to jail where he belongs."

"Right," he doubted sarcastically. "The judges and lawyers promised me that before. And he got a 
slap on the wrist is all." 

"And we'll be here for you, Papa," Deirdre promised.

His face brightened a bit. Leaning closer to his daughter, he kissed her cheek and sighed, "Thank you for that. When I thought about him hurting you and Cybelle, I couldn't take it."

"We knew that," Angie mentioned. "However, you were able to stop short of killing your father. You don't know how proud I am." Kissing him warmly, she continued, "You have come so far. Please don't let this quest of yours destroy what we've built."

"I'll do my best," he assured her. "Meantime, how's Cybelle?"

"I took her back to Althanor. Two days in the House of Healing should have her as good as new," the priestess indicated. "Meantime, the High Priestess has requested that Genaria and I should do what we can for everyone. I'll be teleporting us to Europe, but I'll need you to tell me where we're going."

"We'll have to check with Nick," he stated. "But, I imagine we'll be heading for France. Rouen to be precise."

"Rouen?" Angie asked.

"Yes, that's where Dijon'll be waiting for me," he explained, rubbing his wife's shoulder. 

The oncologist looked curiously at her husband. This chase held so many cryptic clues in it.

"Trust me, Princess, I know what I'm doing," he reassured her.

"Well, I hope so," she informed him. "Meantime, my folks called about an hour ago. They're on their way from Wabash. I figured we'd leave the twins with them. Besides, Brother Tony wants to 
have a chat with us, not to mention Nick, Francesca, Eve, and Xena."

He shrugged resignedly. The last thing he needed right now was a 'you're dancing around the Pit' lecture from the elderly minister. Tony had been concerned since witnessing the Child's clash with Divia back in the tiny town's center. Given that Dijon's challenge came in plain sight, everyone 
with a TV knew about it. "He probably put two and two together," he murmured.

"It didn't take much, Dave," Angie declared. "He was watching the whole scene and knowing what he knows, figured out what you're doing."

"I guess it won't harm anything to talk with him," he concurred. "Deirdre, are you up to opening a portal?"

"Sure," she nodded and willed up a misty pillar. "Tucson?"

"Yup. We need to make sure the apartment's set and get everyone here," he explained. "Angie?"

"Coming," she replied wistfully. Given the nature of their travels, she wasn't about to leave anything to chance on the home front. "Steve, can you let my parents know that we'll be back?"

The FBI agent nodded, "Absolutely."

With that, the threesome disappeared into the mists.

***

[Tucson: The Loft]

Nick poured himself another glass of cow blood and meandered over to the couch. It wouldn't be long now. "I wish we didn't have to leave until after sunset," he muttered, sipping on the liquid. A look across the room revealed that his bags were packed for the long journey. "Que sera sera." he shrugged, slumping into his sofa.

Suddenly, the elevator hummed to life and began moving up toward his floor. A moment later, the door slid open, allowing Natalie to hustle into the area. Her face looked haggard and her eyes had heaviness about them caused no doubt by her inability to sleep.

"Nat?" he wondered. "Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"

The coroner shook her head, "No, that's okay." Glancing at the suitcases, she surmised, "Ready to 
go, aren't you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he noted, knowingly placing the glass down on the table. "I'm glad you came over."

"Thanks. I wish it were under better circumstances. Nick, there was an incident this morning in Massachusetts," she declared. 

He probed, "At Cybelle's home?"

"Yes," she continued, sitting down slowly. "Apparently, she and her husband argued about her going with you all. He left and brought her father back with him. He apparently attacked her and Deirdre. The latter managed to get herself back to her parents' house."

He shook his head, guessing at what happened next, "And Dave went back there."

"According to Karen, he went nuts, jumped through the portal, and faced his father," she reported. 

He winced. Right now, they didn't need any other legal hassles. "And? So, what happened?" he inquired.

"Nothing much," she replied. "Dave got a few choice shots in, but Xena broke things up before he could finish things. Then, Steve called the police."

At her use of the agent's name, he stood up and walked back toward the refrigerator.

"What? Nick, what's your problem?" she demanded. 

He looked at her moodily and shook his head. "I saw you last night."

She scrunched her brow perplexedly and puzzled, "Last night? Wha?" Then, she realized what he 
was getting at. "Oh, that's it. Isn't it? You saw Steve and me in the lab, right? Nick, who the Hell do you think you are? Don't I have a right to be happy? After waiting for you for six years...six damn years...you just go off with Alyce! How do you think that makes me feel?"

He scratched his head and bowed his shoulders. "Nat," he sighed.

She turned away from him, meandering toward the closed-over window. "No, Nick. I don't want to hear it right now! Twenty-four hours ago, I thought that you cared about me. Then, I noticed you and Alyce getting closer and closer to each other. Steve cares about me, Nick!" she lectured. 
"Why shouldn't I try something with him?"

"That caring seemed to come on awfully quick, Nat!" he argued.

"Really? And what about you and Alyce? I knew you two were attracted to each other before. But now that she's back, I see you've got the blood out again," she posed. "Maybe you've given up on a cure. Maybe you like being a vampire. Is that it?" She picked the glass up and threw it into the fireplace.

"You know I don't like being a vampire!" he contradicted, vamping out.

"Then, what is it? What happened to us?" she sobbed.

He paced the room, weighing a response. Finally, he confessed, "I don't want to hurt you again. Maybe, this is for the best, Nat."

"Is it the fact that she's a vampire and I'm not? I asked you to bring me across and you wouldn't 
do it! That's not fair, Nick. I was...I would be willing to make the sacrifice to spend eternity with you. You know that!" she spat.

"You don't know what you're asking, Nat," he advised her.

"And she did?" the ME cracked sarcastically. "I bet she just said 'oh take me...take me'."

"As a matter of fact, I did," Alyce's voice responded firmly. The vampiress flew to the ground floor. "As a scientist, I knew exactly what I was doing."

"Oh, right. Well, asking as a scientist, Nick, bring me across," Natalie requested half-seriously.

"If it makes you feel any better, Natalie, Nick wouldn't do it then, either. Like him, I am the child of LaCroix," the curator revealed. "And, you'll pardon me if I am a bit protective of him!"

"Like you would do anything, you bitch!" the coroner yelled, slapping her rival across the face.

"Natalie! Alyce! Stop this!" he tried to interject.

Alyce shook him off. "No, Nick, stay out of this!" Turning to Natalie, she stated, "This is between us."

"You bet it is! You...You..." Natalie concurred angrily, raising her hand again.

The vampiress smiled coldly and grasped the other woman's hand in a vise-like grip. "And how did you think I felt as I watched you steal him away from me? I saw you, he, and Schanke leaving the museum the night after I came across! Later, I saw the two of you together in his Caddy. I spent 
six long years in Orleans, Natalie. Six years! Well, now I'm here!" With those words, she tightened her grip, forcing Natalie to her knees, "Be with your own kind. You have a man who loves you. I came across for Nick, and I will have him!"

Natalie winced. "Nick, she's breaking my wrist!"

"Alyce, let her go! I don't want her to be hurt," he directed. 

The raven-haired vampiress reluctantly released her grip. "I do want to be your friend, Natalie. I wish you weren't the other woman involved. Trust me, I do want you to be happy. I hope that Steve can give you everything. But, let us be happy together," she pleaded.

Natalie trembled sadly. How dare Alyce make these statements to her! Looking to Nick, she sought 
support there, but that type of look wasn't there. In times past, she would see the spark, the fire, and the ardor in those deep blue eyes. While the caring glimmer still remained, it wasn't the steady, secure light she had come to expect. Maybe, he was right. Maybe, this was for the best after all. Her eyes watered and she brushed her hand to rid herself of them. Maybe this situation wouldn't work out the way she wanted, but she wouldn't give the immortal curator the satisfaction of watching her break down. "If that's the way you feel, Nick, I guess that's the way it's going to be." With that, she walked back into the elevator and shut the door.

For a long minute, Nick stared at the elevator. Then, he drifted over to the window. Although he couldn't open the blinds, he could feel her pain far below. 

She looked back, locking glances with him through the barrier. Only then, did she allow the floodgates to open. They had endured many trials over the years, but this was too much. With a deep sigh, she got in her car, started the engine, and sped away.

He stood at the window, feeling more depressed than ever. Yet, when he looked at Alyce, he knew he had made the right decision. He just wondered why it hurt so much.

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