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Out of Africa
by spikeNdru
Genre: Gen; Action/Adventure
Pairings: Xander and Ensemble; no pairings yet.
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Two years post-Chosen
Disclaimers: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox; they aren't currently using
them so I'm borrowing them for awhile.
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 23 24 25
26 27 28 29 30
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Giles poured the tea and placed the pot on the round table. Bernard indicated the overstuffed armchair, and Giles sat down. Bernard perched, tailor-style, on the straight chair across from him, and Giles almost expected to see him begin to sew a pair of shoes while the shoemaker slept.Instead, he reached for the packet of biscuits and withdrew a tightly-sealed tube of stacked chocolate-covered treats. He seemed to be having difficulty opening the wrapping and Giles was about to offer his assistance, when Bernard withdrew a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and neatly clipped open the recalcitrant wrapping with a minuscule pair of scissors. Bernard beamed at his victory over the biscuits and popped one into his mouth in triumph.
“You wished to speak to me, Bernard?” Giles asked.
Bernard took a drink of his tea to help disperse the remainder of the cookie, and then replied, “Actually, Rupert, I thought there might be something you wanted to speak to me about. I sensed there was something troubling you.”
“There is something . . . I don't know if 'troubling' is the correct word. Curious, perhaps? Inexplicable? Well, at least inexplicable to me, that is. Perhaps you could shed some light on the subject, Bernard.”
“I'd be happy to try, but you must first tell me what it is that you find inexplicable.”
Giles let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, really? The best mystical psychic the Council ever had needs me to tell him what's bothering me? He doesn't just 'know'?”
Bernard smiled broadly. “You're the one who keeps calling me that, as if it were a . . . title or somesuch, Rupert. I've never claimed omnipotence! And, yes, if I read you I would know what is troubling you, but that's hardly the point, is it? I don't need to know, solely for the point of knowing. I only need to know how I can be of help to you, and the best way I know to do that is to have you puzzle it out, and I'll be your sounding board.”
“Oh. Right, then. Erm . . . When we returned from dinner and you and Lorne retired, I spoke to Althenea about Quor-Toth. I wanted to be absolutely sure that she knew what she was getting into. I still don't believe she can comprehend the . . . the realities of this mission—I'm not sure any of us, with the exception of Connor, can really understand, but she assures me that she has chosen to go, of her own free will, and is even looking forward to it.
“You see, Bernard, that's the thing that—yes, you were correct, as usual—troubles me. Dawn, Xander, Willow and Althenea are all rather looking forward to the . . . the adventure of the thing. Faith is a slayer—she puts her life on the line to save both individuals, and humanity in general, as a matter of course. It doesn't matter to her whether her battles take place here or in Quor-Toth. She'll keep fighting and winning for as long as possible, and then, one day, she'll lose and she'll die. That's the nature of being a slayer, and she's accepted that.
“The point is, none of them are afraid—none but Connor, and he's the only one who's actually been to Quor-Toth. I believe I'd feel better if the others . . . if Althenea . . . showed a little healthy fear at the prospect of Quor-Toth!”
“Yes, I see. You're quite right to fear for their safety. You care about them, and they'll be going on a dangerous mission and you'll be remaining here. Out of harm's way, as it were. As will I. You won't be there to help if anything goes wrong, and it worries and frustrates you.”
“Yes, it does, but that's not the only thing bothering me. I offered to form the link with Althenea. That's something I could do to help, even while remaining here, and I thought she'd . . . she'd . . . see the logic of she and I doing the linking. I expected her to immediately agree. To be . . . well, perhaps not grateful, but at least relieved, and—”
Bernard burst out laughing. Giles stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Giles hadn't expected that reaction at all. It seemed the whole bloody group was reacting to him in unexpected ways! Bernard began to wheeze with continued laughter and finally began to cough and wipe the tears from his eyes.
“Oh, Rupert . . .” he started to say, and then was caught up in another bout of laughter. “Forest—trees, Rupert. Forest. Trees.”
“What?” Giles lips quirked. What was it the children used to say? Bizarro World? That was it. He'd gotten into a phone booth, like the Doctor, and arrived at Bizarro World. His part must have been recast, because no one recognized him and no one reacted as he expected they should.
Bernard poured another cup of tea, and then went to the closet where he had hung up his suit. He retrieved a monogrammed platinum flask from his breast pocket and returned to his seat. He offered the flask to Giles.
“I'm so sorry, Rupert. I didn't mean to laugh at you without your understanding what was so funny, so that you could join in, too. I apologize. Have some of this.”
This turned out to be The Macallan—thirty-five years old—and went a long way toward soothing Giles' hurt feelings. Giles fingers felt engraving on the flask, and he turned it to the light to read the words. Bernard— Your Country and your King have given you their thanks. Now, please accept mine, also. HRH Margaret
Giles raised an eyebrow and stared at Bernard with interest. Bernard smiled impishly, reclaimed the flask and took a drink before passing it back to Giles.
Giles took another drink and ran his fingers over the deeply-carved script again.
“Perhaps you'll tell me about this someday?” he asked curiously.
Bernard grinned. “I might. Now, since you've accepted my scotch and, by implication, my apologies, let's talk.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Giles was gobsmacked. He stared at Bernard with his mouth open and his glasses askew. He'd knocked them atilt when he ran his hand through his hair and hadn't noticed. Bernard must be sending him up, he decided. If it were true, surely he would have had some inkling. Then again, maybe not. Jenny had to practically hit him over the head to telegraph her interest, and he still hadn't gotten the message until she invited him on a date. Althenea was more reserved, but even so . . . Bernard must be wrong. He'd known Althenea for years and had never suspected . . .But then, he had a well-developed habit of failing to look beneath the surface. He'd failed to notice the depth of Buffy's depression, hadn't he, and basically told her to buck up and stand on her own two feet. He'd failed to realize that Willow was in trouble with the magics, and offered no help until it was nearly too late for them all. And he'd refused to believe that Spike truly cared for Buffy. He'd also assumed that Angel had gone dark when he'd agreed to take over Wolfram & Hart, and had refused to help Miss Burkle without even knowing the circumstances . . . What else had he missed? He was so bloody sure he knew what was best for everyone that he never bothered to look beyond his own perceptions!
Bernard smiled. “Why is this so hard for you to comprehend, Rupert? You're old friends, you're both single, you're an intelligent, attractive man—why wouldn't Althenea form an attachment for you, over time? And is her . . . regard really so unwelcome?”
“No. Not at all. Not . . . unwelcome, just . . . surprising. Although it does handily answer the question as to why she was reluctant to link with me.”
“I suggest you retire to your room now, Rupert, and search your own heart. If you don't reciprocate her feelings in any way, then I suggest that it would be a kindness to withdraw your offer to link and allow me to do so. Save everyone unnecessary embarrassment, what? If you have harbored feelings for her, of which you weren't consciously aware, well . . . that's a horse of a different colour, then, isn't it?”
“Yes. Yes, you're quite right, Bernard. I can be quite the prat at times, can't I?”
“I'll assume that was a rhetorical question.” Bernard's eyes twinkled. “Good night, Rupert. Pleasant dreams.”
Bernard took a final sip of The Macallan, then capped the flask and returned it to his suit pocket. Yes, indeed, this was quite an interesting group of people. He wouldn't have missed this for the world!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The group gathered in the lobby for breakfast. Xander made a run to the donut shop and returned with breakfast sandwiches, toasted bagels, and croissants, in addition to donuts and hot beverages. No one had slept well the night before, and everyone was pretty wired. Harmony had to excuse herself to return to her room because the maelstrom of emotions, including excitement, fear and tension, was playing havoc with her vampiric senses, and she came close to vamping out—twice. She nuked two pints of the frozen blood Xander had found and said she was going to her room until everyone calmed down.Connor decided that they should wait until late afternoon to attempt the entrance to Quor-Toth, and his statement was greeted with groans as everyone began to talk at once. It had been difficult enough to get through the long night; no one was looking forward to another wait. Connor held up one hand, and eventually everyone quieted down to listen.
“We're not going to be able to carry supplies for more than three months in Quor-Toth, so if it takes longer than that, we'll be living off the land, and that'll slow us down. Also, we're gonna have to figure out how to make sure it's dark out here when we come back, 'cause it would sort of defeat the whole purpose if we rescued them from Quor-Toth only to have half of them burst into flames on re-entry.” Connor smiled nervously at his lame joke. “So, any preparing anyone needs to do, do it after breakfast. If you can get some sleep, do it. We go at four o'clock. Meet here at three, so Bernie can give me the directions and Althenea can do the link. Um . . . that's all for now. We're ready. Let's just try to relax and have a nice breakfast, okay?”
“Althenea, after breakfast, would you care to go for a walk?” Giles asked. “I'd like to speak with you about the link, if I may? And, er, have you ever been to, erm, Disneyland? When this is all over . . . that is, if you haven't been, or even if you have, I suppose, would you like to go? Er, with me?”
Althenea's amber eyes sparkled. “Disneyland? You're inviting me to Disneyland?”
Giles nodded. He wanted something that didn't involve dinner and a movie, or a concert, and Disneyland seemed to fit the bill. At least it wasn't Monster trucks!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Bernard and Connor sat facing each other. Connor took deep breaths, in an attempt to control his racing heartbeat. Bernard's hands rested loosely on his knees. Bernard closed his eyes and centered himself, reaching down, down, deeply into his inner core. He saw his heart, pumping steadily, sending oxygen-rich blood pumping through his arteries. When he was sure that his body was functioning optimally, his consciousness began to travel upward. He felt his body become lighter and lighter as he approached the realms where he could See. He opened his eyes. The milky film of his cataracts thinned and disappeared. His eyes became a rich, bittersweet-chocolate color as he Looked for Angel, Spike, the Illyria hybrid and the other humanoid. He smiled when he located them, and then placed his hands on Connor's temples.Connor jerked as the Quor-Toth surrounded him, pulling him in. A rush of memories beat against his mind, clawing at his thoughts, seeking admission. Connor was paralyzed, helpless against the memories flooding into him. And then he felt Bernard's energy, strong and calming, sliding between him and the overpowering memories, forcing them away so they no longer hurt him. The memories were still there, but somehow walled away, their power to destroy him gone. Now they were just memories, and no longer carried the emotional terror, fear, and rage that had tormented him.
Connor took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. He knew this area. So this was where the portal would open. Good. There could have been worse places to enter. He felt himself being lifted into the air, if something that noxious could even be called 'air', and he and Bernard were flying over the landscape as Connor memorized the route.
They flew over the valley of the Tredd'Zekk, the gorge of molten lava, the twisted, stunted trees inhabited by the Roq M’Hzr and over the first peak of the Endless Mountains. Connor nodded. He and his fath— He and Holtz had lived in a different section of the mountains. Of all the different terrain of Quor-Toth, the mountains provided the best chance for survival. There was water, although somewhat sulfurous, and game of a kind. The mountains were claimed by ogres, but ogres were extremely territorial. They staked out their own patch and never ventured into others' in the normal course of events. If you could kill the ogre that laid claim to the area you wanted, it became yours and the other ogres wouldn't bother you. They were probably under the assumption that the ogre you dispatched was still in control, Connor thought.
Ogres were fierce, but they were lazy. They just hung out in their own place, killing anything that trespassed on their land, but having no curiosity to travel anywhere else, once they'd claimed their spot. The only time an ogre would migrate, was when a cub reached maturity—after about 1200 years—and would be thrown out of the den to seek his own place, if he wasn't strong enough to kill his father to inherit the home place.
Connor took careful note of where Angel and the others were living, and then felt a whoosh as he spun backwards, faster and faster, and then opened his eyes to see Bernard sitting across from him in the Hyperion.
Connor grinned. “We're in luck! They're not far. Maybe a three-to-four-week journey. If our luck holds, we could be back in a couple of months.”
Faith laced her fingers and then extended her arms, turning her wrists so her palms faced outward, stretching her tendons. She nodded. “Five by five,” she said and began to gather her weapons. There was a fiercely exultant look on her face. Her lips curled back into a grin that was more snarl than smile.
Xander wondered if he should mention that her red shirt was probably not the best choice for an away mission. Naw. Faith was a slayer—she'd be fine.
Giles touched Althenea's hand. “Are you ready to perform the link?”
Her eyes searched his and she smiled, her face glowing. “I'm ready.”
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Continued in Chapter 23
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