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Date Posted: 16:34:26 05/03/03 Sat
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.51 & 52
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Ghosts - ch.50" on 15:38:04 05/02/03 Fri

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

Sully's eyes darted along the tunnel's narrow passageway. Beneath him Sophie hung precariously from the emergency platform and its steel ladder.

By wedging her handcuffed arms behind each metal rung for support, Sophie had managed to climb, backwards, until her chin rested just above water. She was safe - for the time being.

But, in a cruel reward for her efforts, the tight squeeze of metal against metal was forcing her handcuffs deeper into her flesh. Sully looked on, helpless, as drops of blood appeared around her wrists and the River of Dreams silently tinted red.

How had she held on this long? Amazed, Sully watched her. Beaten, bloody, delerious, and exhausted…a feather should have knocked her over, let alone the unforgiving waves pounding against her body. She seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, only occasionally opening her eyes to whisper Peter's name. Would she even hear him if he called to her? Sully's heart filled with dread. He had been so positive that Peter would find her in time. But, now, as more time passed, and he was forced to watch Sophie grow weaker and weaker, Sully just wasn't sure any more.

"Sophie!" As they arrived in India, Peter and Gus called out to her in unison.

Encouraged, Sully risked leaving her to walk, unseen, toward their voices. "Hurry, Son," he whispered, peering around the riverbend to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Peter, I'm not saying that this doesn't sound like Ivy's warped sense of humor, but, what if you're wrong?" Gus asked, cautiously. "We didn't even stop in Morocco. Maybe we should split up? I could go back, take a look around, just to be sure?"

Vehemently, Peter disagreed. "No, this is right! I feel it! Besides, neither one of us is gonna be able to rescue her alone. We've gotta stick together."

"SOPHIE!" He shouted more urgently. "SOPHIE!"

"Shine the flashlight closer to the temple!" Peter ordered Gus. "Try over there, by the footbridge…"

Sully moved nearer. Peter and Gus were shining their lone flashlight in a thousand directions at once. A careful search took time and there wasn't much time left. They were so close. Sully winced. If only they would explore a little further. There had to be some way to help them along…

Vividly, Sully recalled lying near death after his fall from the cliff. Covered in brush, in a field full of wildflowers, he had whispered Michaela's name. Days later, in the cave, as she'd nursed him back to health, Michaela explained how she had ultimately found him. She heard him calling to her from a field of wildflowers. It had come to her in a vision.

A vision… Cloud Dancing had always told him that visions provided a link between the earth and spirit worlds. Sacred to the Cheyenne, Sully had taught his family to respect the power of visions. Matthew, Brian, even Katie - to her mother's great distress - had gone on vision quests in their lifetimes. But, it took enormous patience and faith and trust to open your heart and listen when the visions came. Had Peter inherited those qualities from Katie? Had he learned his lessons well? Would he recognize a vision if Sully were to send him one?

Warmly, Sully pondered Michaela's vision of the wildflowers. It, too, had been a gift from someone who loved her…someone who had offered her a chance…a chance to save her husband's life. Indeed, Josef Quinn loved his youngest daughter very, very much.

But, Michaela had chosen to act upon her vision. Would Peter?

"Peter…" Sophie whispered Peter's voice so faintly, no human ear could hear it.

Gently, Sully amplified it just enough…

"Did you hear that?" Peter's body froze.

"Hear what?" Gus paused to listen. "I don't hear anything."

"It's Sophie! She called my name…" Peter prayed he was right.

Gus' sigh was filled with doubt. "Peter…"

"I'm telling you, I heard her," he insisted, growing more and more frantic.

Intently, Sully considered their surroundings - no wildflowers here. Maybe a single flower and a slightly altered memory might do?

"Sophie…" In his anguish, Peter felt as if every cherished moment with his wife were slipping from his grasp.

Then, suddenly, he calmed, his mind filling with just one moment: their first. Peter was on Vashon Island. He and Sophie were having their picnic on the lawn.

"But this isn't the way it happened…" Peter thought to himself as the vision unfolded.

Although the setting was the same, Peter's memory was subtlely different, filtered through a gauzy haze. Instead of his grungy jeans and scruffy beard, he was neatly dressed and cleanshaven. And Sophie… She was positively ethereal, dressed all in white. Just as before, they talked. She fed him the grape. He kissed her hand. But, when she stood to leave, instead of heading back to the inn, Sophie ran towards the pier, stopping only when she reached the water's edge.

Disturbed by what he was seeing, Peter grappled with the images to stop. Why was he thinking about this now, anyway? Why waste time on memories and dreams when he seemed destined to lose her all over again?

But, Peter couldn't turn away. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was important, that this was something he needed to experience - whatever the outcome. And so, resolutely, he allowed the vision to continue…

Fascinated, Peter saw himself chasing after Sophie, following her to the far end of the pier. Brimming with a love that he couldn't yet express, he paused only once along the way - to pick a single yellow rose from Gianni's garden, in apology.

"Please don't leave…" he begged her softly, offering her the rose.

Accepting it, Sophie's smile outshone the sun. But, when she moved toward him, one of the planks abruptly gave way. Horrified, Peter watched as she lost her balance and nearly fell into the water. His heart was in his throat - then and now - as he managed to catch her just in time.

When she stepped back from his embrace, the rose he had given her was still clutched in her hand - so tightly that its thorn had pricked her. Time seemed an eternity, as Peter watched a single drop of blood fall from Sophie's finger into the swirling water beneath the pier.

"I won't leave you, Peter." They were the only words Sophie spoke, her voice echoing faintly in his head. "I won't leave you…"

As the vision ended, Sully waited, anxious to see what would happen next. He had done all he dared…

Reassured, yet unsettled by what he'd seen, Peter took a moment to absorb his thoughts. Pensively, he stared into the River of Dreams. The water was swirling - just as it had in his vision. Swirling…swirling…

"She's bleeding…" Peter announced out of the blue. "I saw her blood fall into the water."

If Gus had wondered about Peter's sanity before, he was certain now.

"Peter, are you crazy?" Gus lifted a handful of water and, of course, Sophie's blood had washed clear. "There's no blood in this water!"

"I'm telling you I saw it!" Peter argued, even though he wasn't sure what he saw. It was more of a feeling.

That feeling of finality, the one he hadn't sensed - until now. He felt it when he saw that single drop of blood hit the water. He was running out of time. "Sophie was calling to me, she was bleeding…"

"Okay, okay, say you're right," Gus' sought to humor him. "It's at least a ten foot drop to the bottom. Sophie couldn't be bleeding on the riverbed. She'd have drowned by now. And if she was lying on the walkway, then we'd have seen her…"

"So, where else could she be?" Peter demanded of Gus. After all, this place was his idea!

"What would be high enough?" Peter's eyes scanned above the rising water. "A bridge…or a catwalk…or a…"

"Ladder!" Like a shot, Gus jumped to his feet.

"The emergency ladders! One to a country," he reminded Peter. "If Sophie managed to get to one, then you're right, she might still be above water…"

"Where's the ladder for India?" Peter was on his feet now, too, searching high and low in the limited light. "C'mon, think!"

Gus scrambled for his bearings, picturing the architect's plans in his head. "Uh…about fifty feet past that footbridge, just around the next bend."

Sully's lips curled upwards, venturing a smile.

It was all up to Peter now.

He was sprinting the most crucial fifty feet of his life…

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO


Defiantly, Ivy ventured from the wrought iron bench she and Charity had agreed to remain upon during their rocky standoff and began to pace.

In the darkened cavern, a fine mist danced in the air. It blanketed a slippery sheen onto the walkways and sent a numbing dampness throughout the two women's every pore. Neither had come dressed for the occasion.

Shivering, Ivy, nonetheless, continued her expedition, inching unsteadily along the stretch of walkway leading to the elevator, Lila's framed portrait swinging slightly from her grip.

"Don't move!" Charity shouted, leveling the gun at her.

Ivy grimaced, her head still pounding from the aftereffects of the poison. "Really, Charity, I'm just stretching my legs!"

"Then, stretch them over here!" Charity ordered her sharply.

Wisely, Ivy stopped where she was, but, stubbornly, she held her ground. With an almost imperceptible smile, her gaze remained fixed in the direction of the elevator, just around the corner, up ahead.

Charity felt the chill in her bones even more keenly. Obviously, time was running out on this deadly impasse.

For, with little to lose, Ivy had dangerously begun to calculate the options she had left…

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"He said he'd cut the pump. Quit worrying!" As they re-entered the lobby, Bruno's commendable efforts to calm Reggie were proving fruitless.

"Cut the pump…that means stop the water, right?" After his previous miscommunication with the construction foreman, Reggie wasn't in the mood for more surprises.

"Yes, he's stopping the water." Confidently, Bruno checked his watch. Detective O'Neill should be on his way.

"Shutting down the main relay shouldn't take any more than five minutes. The foreman promised." Bruno was running out of ways to comfort Reggie.

"Five minutes…five minutes…" Reggie mumbled to distraction.

"Will you please relax?" Bruno snapped, in exasperation. "You're making me nervous!"

"Nervous?" Reggie almost laughed. The word didn't begin to cover the panic he was experiencing at the moment. "Why should I be nervous?"

His hand shaking, Reggie summoned the service elevator to the basement.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bruno eyed him warily.

"The River... They might need me." Nervous or not, Reggie wasn't about to abandon his friends.

Bruno shook his head, knowing a colossally bad idea when he heard one. "You shouldn't go down there alone. Gus wanted us to wait for the cops."

"You wait," Reggie insisted, his mind made up. "I'll be fine."

Skirting Bruno's attempt to snatch him back, Reggie boarded the elevator with a tepid wave. "See you soon," he promised.

And, amazingly, his voice hardly cracked at all…

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Spurred by the challenge of Charity brandishing a pistol, Ivy taunted her for pure sport. "I bet you don't even know how to use that thing."

Charity smiled wryly. "There's a mountain lion that might disagree with you…"

"Come to think of it, you remind me of her," Charity added, sarcastically. "All claws, no brains."

Cool as a cucumber, Ivy resumed her stroll toward the elevator, the skirt of her red dress swaying as she walked. "Ah, but cats have nine lives, don't forget."

In no mood to play games, Charity rose and blocked Ivy's path. Positioning herself at the corner pillar, Charity now had a clear view of both Ivy and the elevator door. The two women stood, barely three feet apart, face to face.

Charity aimed the gun squarely at Ivy's heart. "All except for alley cats…" she reminded her coldly. "Alley cats die alone in the gutter - or the river, as the case may be."

"Takes one to know one," Ivy hissed, as the elevator door sprung open suddenly, surprising them both.

From his perspective, all Reggie saw was Charity, standing there with a gun in her hand. Innocently, he bounded off the elevator to help.

"Mrs. M.!" He exclaimed, rushing toward her.

Instantly, Ivy seized the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

Fueled by sheer hatred, Ivy summoned every ounce of strength she possessed and pushed Reggie with all her might. The force sent him tumbling, shocked, directly into Charity's arms.

Time seemed to stand still as the gun went off and a single shot rang out. Horrified, Charity held her breath, until she heard the bullet ricochet safely off the wrought iron bench, its sharp clang echoing throughout the tunnel.

As she and Reggie struggled to regain their balance, Ivy darted for the elevator, hoping to reach it before the doors closed.

"Don't try it, Ivy!" Charity shouted above the still-raging waters.

Keeping Reggie safely behind her, Charity raised her gun again and fired.

With surprising composure, or astounding good luck, Ivy evaded the shot, ducking to the ground, just in time. Furious, Charity cursed to herself. Apparently, Lawsons had better reflexes than mountain lions!

Though Ivy had missed her chance at the elevator, this wasn't over yet. Refusing to be denied her escape, Ivy headed deeper into the tunnel, the painting still clutched in her hand. It was now or never. There had to be another way out…

"Ivy! Stop or I'll shoot!" Charity followed after her, with Reggie close behind.

Taking her best shot in the limited light, Charity fired one more time.

Suddenly, there was the unmistakable sound of impact and then a curious flicker of light. Charity heard Ivy scream as they drew closer.

The bullet had ricocheted again - this time against the painting's gold frame - causing a spark that had ignited the fragile parchment of Lila's portrait. From the lower left-hand corner, tiny orange flames were creeping upward, threatening to engulf the entire sketch.

"NO!" Ivy cried in horror.

Inch by inch, Lila's painting was vanishing to ashes, right before Ivy's eyes. Transfixed in anguish, she held tightly to the frame, in spite of the metal's searing heat.

"Ivy, let it go!" Charity pleaded, approaching her cautiously. "It's not worth dying for!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you!" Ivy screamed in return.

Willing to save Lila's portrait at all costs, Ivy's panicked gaze rested upon the treacherous waters below. If she could just douse the fire…

Behind them, Charity heard the sound of the elevator doors opening again. The hurried rush of footsteps soon followed. Bruno and Detective O'Neill had finally arrived.

Relieved to find Reggie alive, Bruno pulled him aside. "What'd I miss?"

"I almost got shot!" Gulping, Reggie still couldn't believe it.

"Didn't I tell you!" In what amounted to an overwhelming display of emotion for Bruno, Reggie was rewarded with an affectionate slap on the back of his head. Clearly, he would never be allowed out of Bruno's sight again.

"Miss, put down the painting!" Harry O'Neill commanded sternly, his weapon drawn.

"No cause for alarm, Officer…" Ivy announced shakily, reality slipping from her grasp.

Sadly, it didn't appear as if Ivy was much of a danger to anyone but herself. Still, Harry wasn't about to take any chances. Rapidly, he sent instructions via walkie-talkie to his team upstairs. "I want half of you in scuba gear and the other half in flame-retardant suits. Move it!"

The flames were building now, gaining in size and intensity, darting closer and closer to Ivy, as she inched toward the water's edge. Horrified, Charity wondered how it had all come down to this?

Deeply regretting her seemingly prophetic comment about alley cats dying in the river, Charity tried one more time to reach any part of Ivy that might still listen.

"Your life's more important than that painting, Ivy, please!" Charity begged with compassion.

"She's right…" Dutifully, Harry spoke to Ivy with the calm, slow voice he'd used successfully on fugitives before. "You don't want to die for this…"

"I…I just…need…to put out the fire…" she mumbled, as, first, Lila's dress, and then, her locket disappeared amidst Ivy's stricken gasps.

Sinking to her knees, irrationally, Ivy prepared to dip Lila's painting gently into the anything-but-gentle water.

"She'll have to drop it soon, won't she?" Charity could feel the warmth of the flames, even from where she stood. What was a heat like that doing to Ivy's hand? It couldn't be much longer before Ivy's delusions would finally succumb to her agony.

"She'd better…" Harry whispered under his breath. He'd seen fireballs envelop people before, and it wasn't pretty. But, Ivy's chances in the turbulent rapids below weren't much better either.

Helpfully, Bruno drew closer to Harry's ear. "The foreman's cutting the water. It'll be off in a few minutes."

Bruno was about to add, "Keep her talking…" when the unthinkable happened.

A flicker of orange erupted into a plume of red, as Ivy's flirty dress became a victim of the flames. With an earpiercing shriek, she flailed at the burning hem, ignoring Harry's instructions to drop and roll. Thrashing hopelessly, she lost her balance on the slick pavement and tumbled into the raging river, along with Lila's portrait.

Ironically, just as she'd hoped, the water quickly extinguished the fire, but the force of the rapids was too strong and Ivy lost hold of the sketch the instant she hit the water. Charity watched stunned, as the ill-fated painting was reduced to shreds by the river's onslaught.

And Ivy… Her sobs and screams were heartwrenching, even to hardened lawmen like Harry and Bruno. For Charity and Reggie, her suffering was almost too much to bear. As Harry's men arrived, armed and ready for duty, Ivy saved them the trouble. The destruction of Lila's portrait had drained what little resolve she had left. Relinquishing all her fight, Ivy no longer attempted to tread water. Instead, she leaned back and calmly allowed the River to claim her. Reggie lowered his eyes, preferring not to look, as a crashing wave sent Ivy's body careening, headfirst, directly into the opposite retaining wall.

She was dead. Charity knew it. And still, she blanched as Ivy's warm blood dissolved into the chilly waters. Stoically, Charity watched as the police prepared to recover the lifeless body before it drifted further downriver.

Silence overtook their stream of shouted orders as, finally, wave upon wave of relentless water ebbed. The foreman had cut the pump. The River stilled. All was quiet.

Charity turned away briefly, the oddest sense of sadness and loss overtaking her. In spite of everything that had happened, she mourned for what might have been.

Intuitively, Reggie placed a comforting arm around Charity's shoulder, holding her close.

"You okay, Mrs. M.?" he asked, for want of anything else to say.

Charity shook her head, glancing as Ivy's body was lifted from the River and zipped into a body bag.

Then, she answered him softly and simply.

"No."

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