Perps & Pervs Chapter 5

[her_champion]

Lance was just putting the plastic panel back over the seatbelt housing when Natalie's red sports car drove up. He wadded up the old seatbelt and tossed it into the plastic bag before going to greet her. He couldn't help noticing how tired she seemed. Granted, she'd been through hell since getting to Bremerston: finding her perv dead, the little girl going missing, getting killed, discovering her true nature, finding Sarah. It was enough to make anyone temporarily nutters.

"Feeling any better?" Lance asked, pulling her in for a warm hug.

"Some," Natalie replied. "Sarah's parents finally made it."

"That's good," he answered. "Where's she now?"

"Hospital," she said bluntly. "Dr. Brown wanted her taken in for observation for a couple of days. They need to make sure there aren't any long-term physical problems."

He nodded, still unable to believe how one man could be so cruel to an innocent little girl.

"Told AJ about quitting."

"What'd he say?"

"That he understood and that if I ever wanted it, he might put me on the force here."

Lance couldn't hide a grin. "We did pretty good. Maybe it's time I took on a partner."

"I told him I'd think about it," Natalie said pointedly.

"Right," he replied. "Look, I've got dinner on the stove if you're hungry."

Natalie nodded. "You're right. We need to talk."

Lance sighed and escorted her up the front walk and into the house. The cozy scent of spaghetti sauce set warming on the stove greeted them as they walked in to the Craftsman-style bungalow. He quickly gave her a tour of the downstairs, ending in the kitchen.

"And you did all this yourself?" Natalie asked, surprised. "On a cop's salary?"

"Spent five years on it," Lance answered, tasting the sauce. "Saved a lot on labor doing most of the work on my own. It's a great cure for insomnia. Whenever I can't sleep, I just pick up a hammer and get to work."

Natalie shook her head. "Not on a cop's salary. You're two thousand years old. You couldn't have lived that long without amassing a small fortune."

Lance tapped his nose in the old Charades gesture.

"You could've hired every contractor in the state and had this done in two weeks," she protested.

"Think, Natalie," he replied. "If I did that, then everyone would've been asking where I got the money."

"What about claiming a loan or inheritance from your grandparents?"

"There would have to be paperwork on file for all of that. Since this mortgage debacle, banks have gotten really tight on who can take out loans. As for grandparents, not only would I have to come up with my own backstory, I'd have to think up three generations of stories as well? No, thanks."

"What do you have to hide?"

Lance gave her a very stern glare. "Everything, Natalie. I have made enemies over the span of my years, and some are still around. They would love to get another crack at my head."

"You mentioned something about a game earlier."

"That's right. It's been going on since well before I showed up. Immortals challenge each other to single combat. The one who keeps their head, wins."

"That's insane! Why would they do that?"

"For the Quickening."

"The what?"

"It's an energy storm triggered by an Immortal beheading. It imparts all the knowledge your opponent has amassed over their lifetime, including what they've learned through other Quickenings. It's one helluva high. There's also rumored to be a prize, most likely the sum of all Immortal knowledge which is why so many who play The Game believe there can be only one."

"But how is that possible? I mean, if it's been going on for eons, and I'm just now an Immortal, how can there be only one?"

"That's a question we would all like answered."

Natalie sat back in her chair and thought for a long moment. "So, are you telling me that eventually, someone will come after my head?"

"Very probably," Lance answered honestly. "Which is why I'd like to take you up to Scotland when you're ready."

"You mean to see her, that woman you were talking about."

"That's right," he replied. "She can help you better than I can. Immortality is different for women. They think about things differently from men. Sure, I can teach you how to fight, but she can teach you how to live."

"What's her name?"

Lance took a deep breath before replying. "Guinevere."

Natalie stared at him, dumbfounded. "So, 'Lance' is really short for 'Lancelot'?"

He nodded.

"And 'Arturo' is another form of Arthur?"

"Yes," he answered.

Natalie buried her face in her hands. "So, not only are you an ex-Legionnaire, but a Knight of the Round Table, and God knows what else..."

"That's right," he replied.

Natalie rubbed her forehead, as though trying to get rid of a headache. "Y'know, all in all, I feel fine, but this damned hangover buzz just won't go away."

Lance chuckled as he added pasta to the pot of boiling water. "That's because of me. The older an Immortal gets, the worse the buzz. Also, there's a theory that the more Quickenings they've had also contributes to it."

"How many have you...?"

Lance had never been one for keeping score, but his guestimate put it around four thousand.

"Four thousand?" Natalie's jaw hit the table.

"Natalie, it averages out to two a year for the past two thousand years," he replied calmly. "There are some who are younger whose headcount is nearly double that."

"All because of that stupid Game."

"Pretty much."

"You don't play, do you?"

"No," he answered tersely. "I only fight when challenged, and most people don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

Lance smiled wryly. "Look at me, Natalie. I'm well over six feet tall and weigh somewhere close to two-sixty. Most Headhunters take one look at me and automatically think they'll lose. The only ones who think they can take me are the young ones who don't know any better."

"When was the last time...?"

"1967 in Moscow. I was running counter-intelligence then."

"That long ago?"

"Yeah, since then, I've learned to cover my bases better."

"Which is why you don't want to think up more than one backstory..."

Again, Lance tapped the tip of his nose. "Always remember the kiss rule."

Natalie blinked at him in confusion. "The what?"

"Keep It Simple, Stupid."

Natalie half-blushed/half-grimaced. "Speaking of kisses, we probably need to talk about that, too."

"Probably," he agreed, fishing a strand of spaghetti out of the pot with a fork.

"I didn't mean to come on to you like that," she said. "It was just with everything else going on, my emotions were kinda wonky."

He turned to her, the strand of pasta half-way to his mouth. "Are you sorry you did?"

"Well, I..." she started, then sat back in thought. "I... guess not really."

"Good," he replied with a wink. "Neither am I."

"But what about Guinevere?" she argued. "I mean... the two of you... You still love her, don't you?"

Lance sighed as he ate the pasta, checking to see if it was ready yet. "Yes, I do, but as my former student keeps telling me, I really need to get my head out of my arse and quit mooning over her."

Natalie tilted her head, regarding him curiously. "You make it sound as though..."

"We never betrayed Arthur," he growled fiercely. "He was my King and her husband. I was her Champion and protector, that was all."

"But the stories..."

"Are Mordred's doing," Lance grumbled. "If we denied what he said, it would appear as though we had something to hide, or that we were lying. If we accepted the rumors, Arthur would've been heartbroken and Guinevere would've been ostracized."

"Sounds complicated," she remarked. "And even after Arthur died?"

"As it happens with Immortals, we went our separate ways. I ended up in Jerusalem; she went to study in the Far East."

"And you haven't seen her since?" Natalie asked, sympathetically.

"We've crossed paths over the years, but she still holds a burning hatred for all things Roman."

"Why?"

"That is her story to tell you. Ask her about Boudica."

Natalie fidgeted with the fork he'd placed on the table earlier. "Are relationships hard for Immortals?"

"It depends on whom you ask," Lance answered simply. "For some, who shag their way through the centuries, their answer would be no."

"You don't seem that type," she observed.

Lance smiled. "No, I'm not, but there are some who are what was once called 'light-loves.'"

Natalie nodded. "I think the term nowadays is 'wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am.'"

He shook his head in mild disgust. "The longer I live, the more vulgar people get."

"So, you really are a knight in shining armor?" she asked in disbelief.

"If you're willing to go with me to Tuscany, I'll show it to you."

"Tuscany?" Natalie blinked in surprise. "But I thought we were going to Scotland."

"We are, after Tuscany. After all this, I could use a bit of a holiday. Besides, it's been awhile since I've been home."

"Tell me about it," she said, genuinely interested.

Lance thought for a bit while he finished dinner. Only when two steaming plates of meat-sauce covered pasta were set on the table and grace was said, did Lance finally answer.

"The house sits on a small rise with a terrific view of the valley," he started. "There are olives, of course, but also a small vineyard, figs, apples, a few pears. There's a kitchen garden full of herbs. Roses climb up the north side of the house. There's a small stable and paddock. And the village is just two miles down the road. You can hear the bells ringing for Mass. Mist covers the ground in the early morning. Nightingales sing in the evening."

Natalie smiled at the wistful note in his voice. "And you haven't been back...?"

"Since I moved here."

"Do they... know about you?"

"It's my home," Lance answered finally. "Even though I may disappear for a few years here and there, there is always someone who remembers me, and recognizes that I haven't changed. The village itself is pretty far off the tourist track anyway."

Natalie smiled as she took a bite of pasta. They fell into a companionable silence after that. She was nearly finished with her dinner when Lance spoke again.

"With this weekend being Memorial Day, what would you say to a big old-fashioned cookout?" he asked. "Hotdogs, hamburgers, maybe a few fireworks. What do you say?"

Natalie couldn't help grinning. "Make it a barbecue and you're on."

Lance looked at her in confusion. "What's the difference?"

She stared at him. "You've never had barbecue?"

"Of course I have," he replied with a wry smile before taking their dishes over to the sink. "But I still don't see the difference."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You're talking to a Texan, Lance. Barbecue is our second language. Cookouts involve burgers and dogs over direct heat, probably a propane grill. Barbecue is ribs or brisket slow smoked over cool coals. Then, there's the sauce."

She continued to wax culinary on the different types of sauces. Lance couldn't help but grin as she talked about the food, football and friends. He wasn't surprised Natalie had been very popular and gregarious. And it sounded like she hadn't had much to celebrate since her adopted parents' deaths during her junior year of high school.

"Alright, alright!" he laughed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "I surrender! Barbecue it is."

Natalie laughed at his gesture and stood to give him a hug. "Y'know, you're not such a bad guy after all."

Lance pretended to be offended before replying. "Well, I'm glad someone thinks so."

She smiled and the tilt of her head was an open invitation he was more than happy to indulge in. It was soon clear that they both wanted more than just a simple kiss, but Lance didn't want to rush things too much too soon. Given that they were both now Immortal, there would be plenty of time for that later. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

"As much as I hate ruining the moment," he said softly. "We still need to do something about your clothes."

Natalie raised an eyebrow and gave him a siren's smile. "Oh, well, if you insist."

Before he could stop her, she began unbuttoning her shirt. His mouth went try at the tantalizing view of skin just underneath the fabric, but he managed to get control of his much-neglected libido.

"I didn't mean like that," he said gruffly, then nodded to the black plastic garbage bag next to the table. "I meant those clothes."

"Oh..." she replied softly. "I guess just toss them."

"Natalie," Lance said sternly. "You know what'll happen if someone finds those clothes. They'll naturally assume there's a dead body to go with them, forensics'll get involved, DNA tests, you know the drill."

She nodded in reply. "Burying them might only buy time, but things like that usually turn up. I guess the only thing is to burn them."

"I'll let you have the honors," Lance answered.

Natalie paled at the thought of touching those clothes again, but didn't say anything. Numbly she watched as he picked up the bag and walked into the living room. She still hadn't said a word by the time a nice, cheery blaze was going in the fireplace.

"Natalie," he said gently. "This is something you need to do. You'll feel better for it, trust me."

Wordlessly, she opened the bag, wincing at the smell. She closed her eyes and pulled out her stained shirt. Wadding it up so the blood stain wasn't visible, she tossed it into the fire. They sat there in silence in front of the fireplace, watching the material first smolder and then finally catch fire and slowly disintegrate into ash. After that came her jeans. The heavier denim took longer to burn than the lighter t-shirt. Still Natalie said nothing, and Lance didn't push her. He simply sat next to her offering physical and emotional strength. Once her jeans were nothing more than a pile of ash and a few metal pieces from the zipper and button, Lance added another log to the fire. Natalie tossed her underthings into the fire. Only then did she finally say something.

"It's like everything that happened to me before didn't matter," she whispered softly.

Lance gently kissed her temple. "Of course it did. Without going through all those experiences, you wouldn't be who you are right now."

"But I don't know who that is anymore..."

He didn't have an answer for that, and it was up to Natalie to discover that for herself. They sat silently, watching the flames, until the only the faintest embers glowed. After that, Lance decided they'd best call it a night and get some sleep. He'd stayed up the entire night before and was pretty well worn out, all things considered. He gallantly walked her to the door to the guest room and gently kissed her goodnight.

"Don't worry about anything," he advised. "Tomorrow we'll celebrate everything, alright?"

Natalie's only answer was a tired nod before retreating into the bedroom.

Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5