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Dressed in the same black commando garb that he'd worn earlier, Giles stumbled through the cave, his nerves tingling, his heart beating a tango. He turned into the Masters cavern, knowing what he would find and hoping against hope that where bullets had failed, the Sword of Life would be able to penetrate the shield of who ever was protecting the Master.
"So... you have come to pit your weapon against me." The Master, his malformed face turned away from Giles, "You think I do not know who you are, that your feeble excuse of a masquerade would conceal your existence from me?"
A surge of rage flowed through the Watcher's face. Just standing in the presence of a pure evil like the master cold boil the normally calm watcher, but with Ripper in control, the knowledge of what the Sodding bastard would do to Buffy if given the chance was more that he could stand.. "Anger is so refreshing don't you think? Come now? You've felt it? the joy of letting go of the Human morality. Oh yes I can see it in your eyes. You are no better than we are."
Giles swung the sword with all his might.
The cavern shimmied and in only seconds Giles was no longer in the master's cave but back in his old room in London. The flat had the same essence of desperation that it'd had all those years ago when he'd fled his parents home and the destiny that they'd planned out for him.
The room was so familiar to Giles that he swore he could find anything in the small room just by smell. "There" he thought, "The only thing that I too from home." Giles had felt guilty at the time, stealing his grandmothers book was perhaps the lowest thing he'd ever felt, but there was no other single thing that he was willing to part with, and dammed good thing too. It was the first book that he'd shown Buffy.
Out of the darkness came a voice that had filled the small room all too often, "Hello Ripper, come back to the scene of the crime have we?"
"Ethan Rayne!" Giles hand darted under his duster and pulled out one of the .45's he always carried.
The skeletal man recoiled back, his hands in the, "easy old boy, you wouldn't want to add another body to the count now would you? My now doesn't this look familiar, Ahh yes; this is where we killed our friend."
Giles stared at his ex-mate over the sights of the Detonics, "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you."
Ethan brushed the pistol aside. "My how ferocious you've become; I'll give you two. One; you need me. Two: it wouldn't do you any good," Ethan leaned close to Giles, "This isn't real, so it doesn't mean a thing."
"Well if that's true then this wont hurt. Giles smashed his forehead against Ethan's nose causing gout of blood to flow.
Ethan's head snapped back from the blow, "Owww. What did you do that for?"
"Because you bloody bastard this isn't real if it were I would have done this." Giles snapped kicked Ethan in the balls and enjoyed it.
Ethan fell to the floor groaning. "So the Ripper is truly back" he moaned.
"He never left." Giles pulled the trigger.
"Now is the time. We either win or lose him."
The cheap flat of his youth faded and the forests of Toril appeared in their place.
"Rupert Giles of Earth," The voice wafted across the tree shrouded landscape, "We knew the duality of your life and yet we trusted your word that you would not regress." Mystra shimmered into existence, "we no longer have the luxury of time, you must choose and choose now."
In the background a tall elf appeared. There was a questioning look on his face and concern filled his eyes. Giles nodded to his partner. So Daa'naal, has it come to this?"
"I wish it were different my friend but your actions of late have caused concern. We fear that it is my presence that has caused this regression."
A tremor ran down Giles back. "And if this is true?"
Daa'naal's face fell even further, "If it is you know what must happen."
Giles shot up in bed his face soaked in sweat. He gasped, <Daa'naal?>
<You must decide Rupert.>
Rupert Giles sat in his room, a bottle of fine scotch by his side. He knew he should be sleeping, The Harvest would happen in less that 24 hours, but the nightmares were too much. He stared out the window at the nighttime scene of Sunnydale, a hell he knew all too well.
//Giles, I understand.// Daa'naal's thoughts were little comfort.
"Do you? There is so much that has happened, so much that I just don't know."
The wail of the sirens echoed off the tightly packed buildings in central London. In the back of the ambulance, Elizabeth Corday tried to calm the patient down. It was obvious to her that the older man was in incredible pain, but none of the standard drugs had helped much. Elizabeth checked the pulse again, his heart was racing, and she turned to the driver. "We need to get this man to a hospital now."
"Doing the best I can love, the traffic is murder this time of the day."
"Do better!" She turned back to her patient.
The gurney crashed through the emergency room door. The attending physician grabbed the side of the gurney and directed it to trauma room one. "What have we got mate?"
Elizabeth blew an errant hair off her forehead, "White male, unknown trauma, exhibited extreme pain and does not react to stimulus. Blood pressure is 190 over 110, heartbeat is 115 and thready. We've got him on 5 liters of O2 by mask and normal saline by IV."
The swarthy doctor stared at her, "What about pain meds?"
"20 cc's of Morphine." The doctor eyed her suspiciously, Elizabeth continued her report. "He was screaming so loud it was peeling the paint off the lorry. Look I know we shouldn't have, but it quieted him down and the O2 and saline have helped the blood pressure; you should have seen it on the scene."
"Jesus Christ Liz, you know better that to medicate before evaluation." Dr. Peralta checked the patient's pupils with a flashlight, "Pupils are responsive but sluggish. Ok people on my count. One, two, and three," Giles's body was transferred onto the treatment table. His suit and shirt were cut away and electrodes were slapped onto his chest. Immediately a rapid beeping filled the small trauma room.
"Bloody hell" one of the nurses yelped, "What happened to this guy?"
"No one knows. He was found on the floor of the British Museum screaming." Dr. Corday stole a glance and the heart monitor. "Jesus Jose, aren't you going to do anything about that." Before she could get the last word out the monitor started to scream a steady tone. "He's Crashed," She yelled. "Bag Him!" Dr. Corday began CPR.
Jose Peralta turned to the drug nurse, "I need 1amp epinephrine in a heart needle and ready the defibrillator." One of the nurses handed a syringe to the doctor. He bled the air out of the syringe with a short push of the plunger, causing a small amount of the drug to shoot into the air. Jose Peralta shoved the med student out of the way He plunged the needle into Giles's chest and then waited.
The heart monitor continued to screech failure. "Ok that's strike one, Charge to 300 and stand back." He placed the paddles on the patient's chest and shouted, "Clear." Giles's body jumped off the bed as the electricity surged through his body.
Giles fell back on the table.
"Charge to 400."
The body fell back on the table.
"500"
Jose Peralta took the last chance. As he depressed the triggers that would send electricity into the fluctuating heart of the unconscious man, the body arced into the air and Giles's eyes shot open for the first time since the accident. He grabbed Jose's hand and an eerie blue glow formed around the pair. Bolts of electricity shot across the room. The defibrillator exploded into a cloud of plastic that stunk of ozone.
Cabinets were torn open and equipment littered the floor. Fortunately none of the staff were hit, or if they were, there were no injuries. Giles fell back on the table and the heart monitor stopped screeching, returning to it normal rhythm.
Dr. Jose Peralta began barking orders. "I want a c-spine, chem-20, a chest series and a CAT scan." When he turned to walk away his arm was still in Giles's death grip and he had to peel each finger off his wrist.
While the patient was wheeled to X-ray Jose headed for the break room and a telephone. Digging a number that he'd been given by his mother he dialed. "This is Jose Peralta. It's about Giles," he said to the answering machine.
Liz found Dr. Peralta in one of the CAT control rooms. "Jose you asked to see me?"
Jose flicked off the computer monitor and turned toward the sound of the voice. "I did. I talked to administration about your John Doe. They decided that your actions were in the best interest of the patient so no formal charges will be filed."
Instead of the relief he expected, Jose got a piece of Liz's mind. "What do you mean? I did what I thought was right and to hell with administration. Those old bastards haven't treated a patient in so long they've forgotten what being a doctor all is about."
"Don't get your undies in a bunch; I'm just doing what I'm told. By the way he's not a John Doe anymore. His name is Rupert Giles. He's a curator at the British Museum, specializes in the occult, rather well known I'm told. We notified his next of kin a." Jose shuffled through a file before him, "Lara Croft. She should be in later today."
Liz breath hissed, "If I know Lady Croft, you'd better have some answers before she starts asking the questions."
"You know her?"
"Let's say I know of her." A grin crossed Liz's face. "She runs with my mother's bunch, when she's in town that is? Jose, I don't mean to butt in, but your had better have some answers when she comes calling, she doesn't suffer fools lightly and when Lara Croft is disappointed people tend to be on the dole the next day."
Jose sat there for a few minutes. "Can I trust you Liz, I mean really trust you?"
"What's the big mystery?"
Listen to this. Jose pressed the play button on a cassette player. "FAITH NOOO," a grunting sound cam through the speaker. "BLOODY DARK ELF, DIE YOU BASTARD." Then the rest of the tape went silent.
"What the hell was that?"
"That was our Mr., Giles, and that's one of his better days. There's nothing about this case that makes sense. We treated the obvious injuries which were nothing more than a few scratches and some first and second degree burns, but look at this. Jose flicked the computer monitor back to life.
Liz leaned down and studied the colors representing the cross sections of Mr. Giles's brain. "what the hell. I've never seen a scan like this before."
Neither have any of the neurologists that we've called in. The closest they can recall is when a man suffers massive trauma to one side of his head and the brain reconnects and takes over the lost functions. However our patient seems to have accomplished the impossible without the damage, he is using 20 percent more of his brain then the average person does and that's not all."
"There's more?"
EEG revels massive activity in the new sections of the brain, if any normal person had this he would be in the middle of constant seizures, Mr. Giles, nada, nothing, we don't even have him on Phenobarbital or dilantin. Now the kicker as the yanks say, Look on the zeta band."
Liz could gasp when she realized what Jose was pointing out. "That's impossible!"
But still there it is? A completely second set of readings. This man is either a split personality or he actually can think in two separate tracks all at once. I have no fucking clue what to tell Miss Croft.
Dressed in a conservative suit, Quentin Travers sat in the formal library of the Council of Watchers; across from him was the son of one of his allies on the council, Jose Peralta. "Don't worry Jose; the council will handle Miss Croft, thank you for bringing this to our attention."
Quentin Travers walked into the hospital room and if he owned the place. He'd gotten a call early that morning that Giles was lucid and that now would be the time to come talk to him. "Hello Rupert, feeling a little under the weather are we?"
Giles gawked at the audacity of the older man. "Quentin, I see your need for self importance has you still lugging your trained dogs about."
"now there's no need to be rude."
"Sod off."
Quentin nodded to the two SAS trained body guards.
"Sir?"
"It's alright Sergeant Major, Giles and I are old friends, You can wait outside the door and make sure we aren't disturbed. Rupert and I have many things to discuss."
A thousand spell ran through Giles's mind as he watched the pair of thugs leave. Before the door fully closed, he saw them take place on either side of the door, as if they were guarding the Queen Mother herself.
"Is that better old man," Travers questioned.
"Marginally so."
Quentin pointed to the chair beside the bed, "May I?"
"Oh by all means, make yourself at home." Scorn filled Giles's voice. He'd never liked Travers or his family. There were too many dirty back door deals that usually pointed their direction.
"Well Rupert is seems we have a conundrum here. We checked with your doctors and they all agree that its doubtful that you will be fit for any," Travers paused, "how shall I put this, gainful employment anywhere in the near future. The council has met and you have been withdrawn as an active watcher."
Giles scowled. "At your behest I presume."
"Let's try and not make this adversarial. Yes I brought the matter up, but let's be honest old boy, you know as well as I do that you never would have been assigned a viable slayer. Your family connections would have done you no good and I don't think I need to mention your little rampage in your youth."
"you bloody well know the council cleared me of that."
Still it's there and now with your questionable condition, you simply aren't qualified to serve. I' sure you understand that a watcher assigned to a slayer needs to be in top form. Now I've spoken to your doctors and they've agreed that you are well enough to be move to a long term care facility. Here is what we have in mind."
Lara Croft was running late. She's meant to go see her uncle Giles the morning before but certain rumors had caused her to take action before she could visit him. Dressed in a jet black motorcycle suit she headed for the garage. Her cell phone interrupted her search for the BMW's keys.
"Yes?"
"Ah Doctor Smythe, I'm glad you could return my call so promptly. Have you had a chance to look into my transferring my uncle to Convention house?"
"Yes I realize that it's rather short notice but I would appreciate anything you can do. Thank you very much." Lara stuffed her cell phone in the saddle bags, donned the gloss black helmet that matched the bike and started the motorcycle.
Lara and the BMW rode down the street as if neither had a care in the world. Lara's long hair floated in the slipstream and she silently thanked the gods that the normal biting cold and fog had faded. She was only a quarter mile away from the bridge when she noticed one of the big black taxis that plied their trade in London was coming head on at her.
She leaned the bike over into the second lane of traffic, praying to god that no one else was coming. The taxi mirrored her move. She leaned on the horn and dodged back into her lane. The big taxi was too close to try and swerve again. Lara leaned the bike over and shot off onto a small path that paralled the motorway.
Lara was tossed and jarred by the rough path. She could barely control the bike and when she looked up she saw that she was in big trouble. Bullets spanged off the handle bars. She looked back and two men had perused her on foot.
Lara had one choice: Ride across the train trestle that spanned the river or die. She dumped her speed and mounted the bumpy rails. It was only then she heard the train whistle. "Jesus Christ, who did I piss off this week?"
Lara knew she couldn't go back and with the train already on the other side of the bridge that was a lost cause. She glanced around; the men were advancing so she did the only thing left to her. She sprang the front suspension and got the front wheel on the I-beam that ran across the top of the bridge. Revving the motor to 8000 rpm's she popped the clutch. The motorcycle jumped onto the ten inch I-beam and Lara roared her way across, on the top of the bridge.
Lara stormed into the hospital in a snit fit for a king. It wasn't that getting shot ay was all that an unusual occurrence for her, but she tended to take it personally. It was with a sense of relief that she found the nurses station. A woman in surgical scrubs looked up, blowing the kinky hair out of the way. "I'm Dr. Corday, can I help you?"
Lara put on her 'gee I'm a friendly type' smile. "I hope so. I'm looking for my uncle, Rupert Giles."
"Oh yes our mystery man. He's in room 537. I must admit that I was surprised that you weren't contracted earlier, generally family members are first contact."
"Well both Uncle Rupert and I both have somewhat unusual schedules. Can I bother you to point out where room 537 is, I'm rather curious to see how he is doing?"
Liz leaned over the station's counter. "See those men? that's room 537. Normally we only allow one visitor per room but I'm sure that Mr. Travers wouldn't mind, see that you are Mr. Giles niece.
Lara's smile disappeared. "Mr. Travers, short gentleman with graying hair?
"He's been in there for over and hour. Do you know him?"
"No but my uncle has spoken of him." Lara's calm words belied her true feelings. She knew all too well how Giles truly felt about Quentin Travers. "Thank you very much for your time Dr. Corday."
Lara casually walked over toward room 537. It didn't take her more than a second to recognize the two men guarding the door. <Ex-Para types I'll bet. This is going to require some creativity.> on her left she noticed a supply closet. <Probably locked> Lara Croft was nothing if not creative. She innocently dropped her keys on the floor next to the door. As she rose, she palmed the lock pick set from her right boot. Glancing around, she felt relived, no one had noticed. Choosing the two most common picks from the pouch, it took her less than 30 seconds to unlock the supply room and she stepped inside.
The room was wall to wall shelves. Filled with linins, bedpans and assorted things that she couldn't even start to identify. Lara grabbed a clean lab coat and loaded the small trolley that was stored at the back of the store room with several sets of linins and four bedpans. <Perfect cover.>
She strolled over to room 537. "'Ello lads."
"Sorry Lass, but you'll no be getting in here for a while. Mr. Giles is busy."
"Now wot you being all hostile for? A girls got to make a living. Can't ya see the call light is on and poor Mr. Giles probably needing to go to the loo. You wouldn't want him soiling my nice clean sheet now would you?"
The first guard exchanged glances with the second, a fact not lost on Lara. "It'll only take half a mo, have a heart lad." The second guard shrugged his shoulders and reached for the door. "That's a luv." Lara graced him with a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she pushed the cart into room 537.
"If you think I'm casually going to be…" The voice reassured Lara, it was Giles and he looked ok, even if he sounded browned off.
Giles eyes rose and he saw the orderly. His eyes lit up when he realized that the orderly wasn't who she was pretending to be… "Lara."
Travers head snapped to the left with a force that should have left him with whiplash. "You shouldn't be in here, I ordered privacy. Guards," He shouted.
The door smashed open in response to Travers shout. Lara tripped the first guard and he fell to the floor with a grunt. The second guard already had a pistol out. Lara grabbed one of the stainless steel bedpans as she pivoted and smashed the guard in the face with al the force she could muster. She heard his nose break and then she raised the bed pan and crowned him with it, knocking him unconscious.
The second guard, now recovered charged Lara with a pistol in his hand. She stepped inside his reach and grabbed the pistol by the slide. She gave the gun a wicked twist causing the guards trigger finger to be trapped in the trigger guard and the force on his gun hand torqued his shoulder down, forcing him to the ground.
With the shoulder twisted in such a way that the goon at her knees couldn't move, Lara hit the magazine release and tossed the ejected clip across the room. She stared down at the guard. "I don't like bullies and I really hate it when they point guns at me."
She grabbed his wrist. That relived the pressure on the trigger finger but maintained it on the shoulder. Lara took the gun in her off hand, "what I hate even more are incompetent bullies." She kicked the guard in the crotch. The guard tried to bend over and cover his damaged balls. That little bit of force was the straw that broke the camels back. His shoulder separated. To add insult to injury, Lara smashed his face with her knee as he fell into blissful unconscious.
Quentin Travers was visibly shaken. "See here Miss Croft."
Lara twisted around sharply, the gun coming into a perfect firing position. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you."
Quentin Travers gulped and a resolve set in to his eyes. "See here you are in enough trouble as it is. Put the gun down and we can handle this like civilized people."
"And forgo the pleasure of watching you brains splattered against that pretty wallpaper, I don't think so."
"You'd spend the rest of your life in prison." A hardened steel tone was added to Travers voice.
Lara thought about it for a second. "Are you really that naïve? My lawyers would have me out before the ink dried on the warrant. If, and it's a big if, It came to trial, there would be so many motions that it would take years to sort it out. Then, if there were a conviction, I'd have a royal pardon before I left the court room. But you are right about one thing, I don't want to use a gun." Lara casually tossed the gun on the bed. Lara drew a small knife from her boot.
Quentin Travers façade of control crumbled. He backed away from the crazy woman till his back was up against the wall.
"You see Mister Travers," the word mister was filled with contempt; "I don't like people fucking with me or my family. I take it personally. Rupert here is the closest thing I have left to family and I find you here blocking me from visiting, this is not a good thing. Lara stiff armed him with three fingers to the solar plexus.
Quentin Travers face turned a bright red.
"So here's what's going to happen. One, you will leave me and my uncle alone. Two, if I even hear that you've been within five hundred feet, I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter what the cost. And three, just so this little talk set in, I'm going to give you a little reminder of our visit today.
Lara stepped forward, trapping Travers against the wall with her knee against his throat. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sliced a small chunk out of his ear. "Now I'm sure the point is made. Get the fuck out and take your goons with you."
Giles stared at his own reflection in the glass. "I don't know."
// Then its time to seek someone out that does. If not here, then you have the crystal that Mystra gave you. I am sure that somewhere, someone can help.//
Ok folks, that's it! The rest is up to Tenhawk. Dreams at Midnight, was my swan song in the Journeyverse. The reasons are many, but chiefly, lack of time and less and less reaction for each part. It's been a great eighteen months…
Kyle Bernard
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