Megan laid her cards on the table.  "Gin," she announced, unable to keep a satisfied smirk off her face.  "You're going to end up owing me your next paycheck the way you're playing."

Jim shook his head, and tossed his hand onto the discard pile.  "Sorry, Connor.  My mind's not on the game."

Squaring the cards up, she gave them a shuffle.  "Worried about Sandy?" she asked.

Closing his eyes, the sentinel rubbed the knot at the back of his neck with one hand.  "Yes and no," he finally said.  "I know Diandra won't let anything happen to him.  Hell, she's better equipped to take care of him than I am; she doesn't have to worry about the location of the nearest hospital whenever he gets into trouble.  It's just that I feel it should be me watching his back."  He shrugged.

Megan began to deal the cards, realizing that conversely, Jim probably would feel better with Sandy looking out for him.  She suddenly wished that Dee and Sandy, or Simon, or anyone were here with them to ease the
growing tension in the room.  "Sorry, Jimbo," she finally said lightly, "you're stuck with me."

He glanced up from his hand, seeing the self-doubt in her eyes immediately.  "I'm sorry, Connor.  I didn't mean that the way it sounded.  You are a good guide; you proved that last night.  The problem is you're just not -my- guide."  He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to you, not like what happened to Lydia," she vowed, regretting mentioning the Companion as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Who's Lydia?" Jim asked, sensing there was something the Aussie was keeping from him.

Sighing, Megan answered him, knowing he would keep prodding her until he got the story out of her.  "Lydia is the Companion, the woman I see in my visions."

"And what happened to her?"  Jim laid his cards down, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"She died."  She was going to make him work for it.

"I know she died.  But what does that have to do with us?"

Megan pushed the ace of spades around in a little circle on the table with her forefinger.  "She died because she and Diandra were separated. For what it's worth, Diandra died too, though that part has me puzzled."

Jim knew he was going to regret asking, but he did anyway.  "Why are you puzzled?"

"Well, she had a spear go clear through her.  Nobody could have survived that kind of injury especially during that era."

"And what era would that be?"

Megan looked around the room, pointedly avoiding meeting Jim's eyes. "This is going to sound really weird, but Ancient Greece, a couple thousand years ago."

It was Jim's turn to wish Blair and Dee were present.  Why did he end up having to answer all the hard questions?  He tried a trick from the Sandburg book of obfuscation.  "Oh, come on, Connor.  Are you trying to
tell me Diandra is thousands of years old?"

"No, but how else can I explain what Lydia showed me?"

Go for the simple explanation, Ellison, Jim told himself.  "Spirit visions are notoriously inaccurate, Megan.  I'm not saying that what you saw didn't happen, I'm just saying the way in which it was presented is a little suspect.  Those kinds of visions, in my experience, are open to a lot of interpretation.  So maybe what you saw
actually happened, but not in that particular setting.  The vision may have been drawn from your own subconscious, from the way you see Diandra."  Sandburg would have been proud of him.

"Well, maybe," Megan admitted.  "I do have Amazons on the brain because of Sandy.  He gave me Dee's book, 'Daughters of Artemis', to read.  And Dee does remind me a lot of one of the main characters, Dreena, who is
the Queen's consort and leader of their warriors."

"I believe that's called a Mary Sue," Jim said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"A what?"

"A Mary Sue.  That's when the author writes himself or herself into the book as a character.  So it would only be natural for you to have a vision in which Dee is an Amazon, based on what you just told me."  He gave her a smile.

She pondered that for a few moments, then said, "You don't think there's any way Dee could be that old, then?"

Jim shook his head.  "Think about what you're saying, Connor.  The only way she could be that old would be if she were an…an alien, or immortal.  And I don't think you believe in aliens, do you?"

"No," she said slowly, "but what about reincarnation?  What if she's the reincarnated soul of an Amazon?  Lydia did say she had an old soul."

Sensing control of the conversation was slipping out of his grasp, Jim rose and headed for the kitchen for a glass of water.  "I'm no expert in that area.  Sandburg's the person to talk to there."

Megan gave a frustrated sigh.  "I guess I'll just have to wait until this weekend's over to get the answers to my questions. "  She grabbed the sketchpad she had been working with earlier, and turning to an unfinished drawing, began to add color to it.

Coming back into the living room, Jim paused behind her, admiring her work.  The drawing was of two Amazon warriors, their backs to each other, swords drawn against an invisible enemy.  The taller of the two
figures was immediately recognizable to Jim as Diandra, but he couldn't place the smaller one.  "Is that Lydia?" he asked.

Megan glanced up at him.  "Hmm, I think so, I'm not entirely sure; it's not done yet, you see."

Okaaaay, Jim thought.  Connor was getting just a little too weird for him.  Still, he supposed her sudden interest in drawing spirit visions wasn't harmful.  Crossing to the sofa, he sat down, suppressing a yawn, and gazed into the fire.

Laying down the pastel she had been working with, Megan stretched, and glanced at the clock on the roughhewn mantelpiece over the fireplace. It showed a quarter past ten.  Yawning, she started to rise when the faint sound of a car engine reached her ears.  She looked at the sentinel still seated on the couch.  How come Jim hadn't heard it?  Was he asleep?

Rapidly she crossed the small space between them, and looked into his face.  Damn it, he'd zoned on something, probably the fire.  She shook him urgently.  "Jim!  Come on, Jim, snap out of it!  Someone's headed this way!"  Listening again, she heard the engine shut off, and a muffled door slam.  They didn't have time for her to finesse Jim out of the zone.  "Sorry, Jim," she whispered, then slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

He leapt to his feet, and Megan jumped back to avoid his instinctive swing.  "Connor!  What the hell…"

"We've got trouble, Jim.  Someone just drove up."  She was moving across the cabin, grabbing their weapons from kitchen table, and stuffing extra clips in her pockets.

Jim listened for a moment, then joined her in the kitchen.  "Out the back door, now!"  Into the frigid night they ran, unable to spare the few seconds it would have taken to grab their coats.  They wasted no time in crossing the small clearing and heading into the woods.  Once inside the tree line, Jim paused, getting a fix on the intruders.

"Damn it," he cursed softly.  "It's Cristo, and what sounds like four or five of his goons.  I don't think they're here for a social visit.

Handing him his gun and a couple clips, Megan said, "How do you want to play it?  Think we can take them?"

From their position slightly above the cabin, Jim could see the men fan out with military precision.  "No, not in a face to face fight.  They look like mercenaries.  They've got body armor, night vision scopes, and automatic rifles.  We're outnumbered and outgunned.  Come on, let's see if we can lose them, then maybe circle back for their vehicle."  He headed toward the west, away from the cabin, carefully keeping to the bare ground under the thick trees, wanting to leave as few tracks as possible in the snow.

Megan followed, latching onto his belt to keep them together, since he was the only one who could see where they were going.  "What about Blair and Dee?" she whispered.  "Do you think Cristo knows they're alive?"

Jim gave her a hand over a rocky outcropping.  "No, I heard him say something about you being the last loose end."

The sound of a gunshot made them both duck, but they quickly realized it hadn't been fired in their direction.  A second shot followed the first.  "He's pissed they didn't surprise us at the cabin," Jim said, "and he's taking it out on the driver for getting too close before stopping.  Let's get some miles between us and them before they start hunting in earnest."

They had only gone a short distance before Jim pulled up again.  "Now what?" Megan asked.

"It's Dee," Jim said.  He listened for a moment, then said, "Damn it, no.  We can handle this." He paused, "I said no, Dee.  Your job is to protect Blair not…"  He was silent for almost a minute.  Even in the filtered moonlight, Megan could see his jaw clenching.  Sighing in resignation, he finally said, "Fine, okay, forty-five minutes."

Sensing the conversation was over, Megan asked, "What did she want?"

"She thinks she's coming to save our asses."  He shook his head.  "She and Blair will meet us in a small cove northeast of here in three quarters of an hour.   Shit, that means we have to go back past the cabin.  Come on."  Taking her hand, he headed off through the trees again.

Shoving the canoe into the water, Diandra leapt into the stern, grabbing her paddle and digging it into the black water.  Blair glanced back over his shoulder at her, taking in the combined emotions of concern and cold fury blazing in her eyes.  Fear writhed in the pit of his stomach at her expression.  Whatever she was hearing must be bad, very bad.  She swore in a language only she understood, and increased her strokes.  Blair did the same.

They had covered what the guide estimated to be roughly half the distance to the western shore of the lake when they both heard the rapid staccato of an automatic weapon.  Giving a sharp cry, Blair nearly dropped his paddle as stinging pain shot through his left bicep. He looked back at Dee, seeing his agony reflected in her eyes.  "Jim's been shot," she told him calmly, confirming his worst fear.  "Keep paddling, Lobo."

Blair bent himself to the task again, the ache in his arm fading.  At least he knew the injury wasn't life threatening.  "Have they been captured?" he asked.

"No, they're still heading for the cove, but Cristo's men are on their trail.  They're making for rougher ground to try and lose them."

"You got all that from their movements?"

A small smile crossed Dee's face.  "No, Megan's giving me the play-by- play."

Her words reassured Blair that everything was okay, and in a short time, the bottom of the canoe was scraping against the beach.  Both of them jumped out, dragging the boat higher onto the sand, then Dee paused to get a fix on the two parties, Blair's hand on her back grounding her.  "There," she said finally, pointing toward a stand of thick pines, as Jim and Megan broke through the cover, crossing the distance between the trees and the water at a jog.

Coming to a stop in front of the Champion and Guide, both Jim and Megan struggled to catch their breath.  Slipping out of her parka, Dee wrapped it around Megan's shoulders, while Blair went immediately to his sentinel's side, examining his injury.  Jim swiped half-heartedly at his partner's hand.  "Don't worry about it, Chief.  It went through clean."  Blair continued to fuss, yanking a strip from his shirt to use to redress the wound.  Shaking his head with a grin, Jim turned his attention to Dee.  "We don't have much time," he said.  "They're maybe ten minutes behind us.  How do you wanna do this?"

Turning toward him, Dee gave him a grim smile.  "The three of you get in the canoe, and start paddling.  The island is due east of here; you can't miss it."

"Dee, you can't stay here!" Megan's voice was almost frantic.

"I agree," Jim said.  "Either we all go, or we all stay."

"Ellison, don't argue with me. There's not enough room, and I'm the logical choice to stay behind.  Get the two of them out of here. That's what's important.  Protect the companions."  The warrior drew herself up to her full height, and Jim could feel the energy pouring off her.

"No, goddamn it, I'm not going to let you stay here.  You’re outnumbered…" He shrugged off Blair's placating hand and took a step toward her, drawing his weapon.  "If I have to shoot you to get you in the damn boat, I will."

"Jim, man, you don't mean that!" Blair said, staring at the Sentinel and Champion in shock.  "This is not the time for you two to have a head butting contest."

Megan's head came up at Blair's words, an alarm going off inside her, the Companion's voice urging her to move, MOVE!

"Try it!" the Immortal snarled, her hand reaching over her shoulder, her fingers closing around the hilt of her katana.

Jim pointed his gun at her, his finger tightening on the trigger.  Too late he realized his guide now stood between himself and Dee.  The sound of the gunshot bounced off the mountains, and echoed across the
still lake.

His legs suddenly unable to support his weight, Jim sagged to the ground, his weapon falling from limp fingers.  What had he done?  Oh, god, what had he done?

"Jim, what in the bloody hell were you thinking?  You nearly killed Sandy!"  Megan picked up his gun from where it had fallen and stuck it in the pocket of Dee's parka.  "Damn it, Jimbo, we don't have time for this!"

Dee unwrapped her arms from around a shell-shocked Blair.  "You've got to be the luckiest man alive, Ellison.  If Megan hadn't bumped your hand, you would have killed your guide."  Grabbing him by the shirtfront she hauled him to his feet, her words pitched too low for the others to hear.  "And you would have followed him in a matter of seconds.  Now get in the fucking canoe and get them the hell away from here."

Managing to pull himself together, Jim asked, "What are you going to do?"

Dee's eyes flashed in the light of the full moon.  "I'm going to see how Cristo likes fighting under the Amazon rules of war."

Jim moved past her to where his soulmate stood, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his face white with fear.  "I'm sorry, Blair," he said softly, unable to meet the other man's eyes.

The color came rushing back to the anthropologist's cheeks as he spit out, "This has got to end, Jim.  It has to end tonight."  The sentinel nodded slowly then went to stand next to the canoe with a still shaking Megan.

Blair moved to Dee's side, his hand automatically reaching for hers. Clasping it in both her own, she raised it to her lips and kissed the back of his fingers.  "It'll be okay, Lobo," she said quietly, her eyes meeting and holding his.

"I know what you're going to do," he told her.

"And?"

"And I want you to know I love you…and I want you to promise me you'll come back to me."  His free hand caressed her face, feeling the warmth of her tears against his skin.

"I promise," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him tenderly.  Then she stepped back, drawing her knife from its sheath on her wrist.  She paused, the tip of the blade held over her forefinger.

Blair held out his hand to her, knowing she wasn't asking for his participation in the ritual, but needing to give her something of himself to take with her into battle.  He could hear the gasps from both Megan and Jim as the knife pricked his finger, blood rising from the small cut.  Diandra guided his hand in drawing the ancient symbols, the sign for Athena, the Goddess of Righteous War on her forehead, and Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt on her right cheek.  He moved his hand to her left cheek, but she stopped him with a small shake of her head.

"That one's mine, Lobo," she told him, slicing her finger and drawing the symbol for Death.  "Now go."

Blair hugged her once more, then walked over to join Jim and Megan, grabbing the bow of the canoe and dragging it into the water.  Megan climbed into the center seat, and Jim into the rear, Blair turning toward the shore one last time, watching as Dee drew her katana with her right hand, and her wakizashi with her left.  Crossing them above her head, an Amazon battle cry poured from her throat, then she headed for the trees.

Blair hopped into the front of the canoe, picked up his paddle, and didn't look back.

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