UNTIL THE END OF TIME: An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro Story 2/4

      Vi Moreau (vmoreau@DIRECTVINTERNET.COM)
      Sat, 13 Jul 2002 12:27:57 -0400

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      --------
      UNTIL THE END OF TIME: An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro Story 2/4
      
      By Vi Moreau
      
      vmoreau@directvinternet.com
      
      and Julio César
      
      divad72@prodigy.net.mx
      
      ========
      
      
      
      
      
      A restaurant in Lima, Peru
      
      Nov 10, 2013
      
      
      
      That was the opinion Methos had first formed of her, and nothing since had
      changed his mind. And in spite of the fact that they had grown apart as all
      Immortals eventually do, and that she had been Duncan MacLeod's paramour
      since the nineteen nineties, Corazón Negro still obviously loved the woman
      he knew as Curi-Rayen. Good. She needed to be loved by as many people as
      possible if she was ever going to come out of her deep depression.
      
      
      
      "I'll tell you where you can find her," Methos finally decided, "as long as
      you don't let her know it was me who told you."
      
      
      
      "Agreed," Corazón Negro said.
      
      
      
      "She is at the Dominican Convent of Santa Catalina in Arequipa, Peru,"
      Methos said. "It's now a museum, but a few nuns still live on the grounds. I
      saw her almost two years ago, and it was a bad visit. She wouldn't talk to
      me then, but maybe the time alone has helped her, and you've certainly been
      closer to her than I ever was-maybe you'll have a better chance with her,"
      he said, drinking from his beer. Then, shaking his head, he added, "Hungry?
      My treat, of course."
      
      
      
      For the first time Corazón Negro smiled. "Yes, thank you."
      
      
      
      The waitress came and Methos did the honors. "Bring us a couple of plates of
      your best tacos, Señorita."
      
      
      
      "Anything else, Señor?" the waitress asked him.
      
      
      
      "Just your smile," Methos answered confidently. When the waitress left,
      Methos looked at Corazón Negro. "Are you ready to say your final goodbyes to
      Elena?"
      
      
      
      The Aztec's narrowed, even as he smiled. "Yes, I am. Curi-Rayen's is the
      last face I want to see before my final battle against Lilitu."
      
      
      
      Methos nodded. He had never really understood the kind of personality the
      Aztec had. Methos had abandoned crazy crusades thousand of years ago. "Your
      chances of survival are slim and none. What the Ancient Gathering is about
      to attempt, no one has been able to accomplish in more than thirteen
      millennia. Are you sure about this?"
      
      
      
      "There's no other way, Methos. One way or another, this war must end,"
      Corazón Negro said, drinking from his beer. Then, seeing the odd expression
      his elder got on his face, he added, "No, I do not have a death wish,
      brother. But if I must face death, well. let me tell you-death will be a
      great adventure."
      
      
      
      "A last adventure," Methos suggested. "And after all these years, you
      finally became a crusader," Methos said in low tones.
      
      
      
      "I don't think so. I'm just a fighter, and someone has to fight this battle,
      old friend."
      
      
      
      Methos shook his head. "You sound like that crazy Highlander."
      
      
      
      Corazón Negro smiled. "Which crazy Highlander, Duncan or Connor? They are
      both good friends."
      
      
      
      "I know." The waitress returned with their tacos, then left them alone
      again. "You have an interesting history with both MacLeods. I read the
      chronicles when I was a Watcher." Methos bit into his taco. Suddenly, he
      asked, "Tell me something; if you're going to leave Elena definitively,
      would you care if she ends up with one of the Highlanders? I know she cares
      about them both."
      
      
      
      "She has already been with Duncan. I don't believe she will forgive him, but
      if she does, or if she goes with Connor, why should it bother me-assuming I
      survive?" Corazón Negro answered as he played with his food. Sighing, he
      picked up one taco and bit into it, chewed and swallowed. "I am the one who
      left her twenty years ago. It was my fault. The only thing I've ever wanted
      is for her to be happy."
      
      
      
      Methos' eyes shone. "I know that Zarach made you leave her."
      
      
      
      The Aztec shook his head. "No excuses, old friend. It's easy to blame
      someone else for our mistakes. Even with Zarach's influence, it was still my
      choice."
      
      
      
      Methos observed the Aztec carefully. Corazón Negro was sincere. Few
      Immortals could accept such failures so easily. "Amigo, you're beginning to
      sound like Darius, or like Quetzalcóhuatl."
      
      
      
      "No. I'm sounding like myself," the Aztec replied. He put his mostly-neaten
      food down and rose. "Thanks for the meal, Methos. I hope to see you again."
      
      
      
      Methos smiled. "Remember, Son of the Wolf: Live, grow stronger, fight
      another day."
      
      
      
      Corazón Negro nodded. "You always gave good advice," he whispered. Then he
      turned and walked away.
      
      
      
      Methos watched until the Aztec left the restaurant. For a while, he sat at
      his chair, wishing him well. Then, with a deep sigh, he signaled the
      waitress for the check.
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      Dominican Museum/Convent of Santa Catalina in Arequipa, Peru
      
      November 13, 2013
      
      
      
      "I am sorry, Senor. By her own request, no outsider has seen Senorita Duran
      since she has been with us, and I do not intend to make an exception in your
      case."
      
      
      
      Corazón Negro wiped the sweat from his forehead with a clean handkerchief
      and sighed, imagining how hot the Mother Superior would be on this summer
      day in her floor length white habit-although the nun looked more
      disapproving than uncomfortable. She had seemed suspicious of him from the
      beginning, and had shut him down the moment she learned he was here to see
      Elena Duran.
      
      
      
      "I understand she's here mourning, and to find peace, Madre," Corazón Negro
      said soothingly, knowing he had to get past the Mother Superior. He also
      knew Methos had seen Curi-Rayen, and wondered if the nun was lying to him to
      protect his former lover. Then he wondered if Methos had lied to him for
      some reason. No, he realized, neither one had lied: the ancient Immortal had
      managed to see Curi-Rayen somehow in spite of the nun's objections, probably
      sneaking over the wall in the dead of night. But Corazón Negro would not do
      that-unless there was no other way. Well, the Argentine Immortal knew he was
      here, or at least than an Immortal was here. If she was as curious as she'd
      always been, Curi-Rayen might come to catch a glimpse of whatever Immortal
      was here. He said to the nun, "I am an old friend and I'm going . on a trip.
      I merely wish to say goodbye; I may not see her again."
      
      
      
      "That sounds very melodramatic, young man, and I don't accept it."
      
      
      
      The Aztec shook his head. "I don't blame you for not believing me, but I
      assure you." Deciding to trust her more, he said, in a rush, "I hurt her in
      the past, Madre. I deserted her when she needed me. I believe I may have
      caused some of the pain that drove her here. I merely wish to ask her, to
      beg her to forgive me, and I am leaving and may not get another chance."
      
      
      
      Dark, wise brown eyes studied him in silence for a long time, and Corazón
      Negro saw the nun's features soften slightly. Curi-Rayen was so close! Her
      Immortal presence thrummed in his blood, and he fought the urge to get up
      and go look for her.
      
      
      
      "Others have come-I am certain some of them wanted to hurt her. I sent them
      away at once. But there was another man who was here about five years ago,"
      the nun was saying. "He too, seemed sincere and said he cared about her, but
      she wouldn't speak to him. What makes you think she'd want to see you?"
      
      
      
      "She may not," Corazón Negro stated unhappily.
      
      
      
      "If you admit you hurt her before, how do I know you won't hurt her again?
      Drive her back into that silent misery she lived in for so long?" She shook
      her head decisively. "I cannot let this happen, Senor," she said curtly,
      putting her hands flat on her spare desk. "I will not permit it, and God
      will not permit it."
      
      
      
      "The last thing I want to do is hurt her, and I'm here for her as well as
      for myself. Please pray about it, Madre, and at least let her know I'm here.
      If she refuses to see me, so be it," he added, meaning it. He made up his
      mind he would not climb any fences, but he wanted Curi-Rayen to make that
      decision, not the nun. When Madre Luz said nothing, he leaned forward in his
      seat and urged, one last time, "Please give her a chance; give us both a
      chance."
      
      
      
      The nun stood abruptly, and Corazón Negro followed suit, pushing his folding
      chair back so hard with his thighs that it fell over. He studied her
      intently, wondering . but her answer didn't give him much of a clue. Putting
      her hands inside wide sleeves, Madre Luz merely said, "I will pray about it,
      Senor Alameda. Come back tomorrow at this time, and I will let you know my
      decision."
      
      
      
      "Thank you," Corazón Negro said, bending down to pick up the chair. Bowing
      slightly, he left the small office and looked around, wondering, then walked
      to the middle of the small courtyard and stood out in the open, hoping
      Curi-Rayen would show herself.
      
      
      
      
      
      ========
      
      
      
      
      
      Elena was making empanadas (2) (Spanish for dumpling) in the kitchen when
      she sensed the Immortal, and she gasped in surprise. Maybe it was Methos,
      again, she thought, and wouldn't he be glad to see her talking once more.
      But it could also be one of the Immortals who had come hunting her over the
      years, and she felt almost like a coward letting Madre Luz be the one to
      send them away. That was Elena's job, and she shouldn't hide behind a nun's
      skirts-although this particular nun, like most Mother Superiors she'd met
      over the centuries, was a formidable opponent who would stand up to Lucifer
      himself in defense of her flock. Smiling at that thought, Elena wiped her
      hands on her apron, then turned to Hermana Marialuisa, who was supposed to
      be teaching her how to make the delicate dough but instead was dozing in an
      armchair near the unlit fireplace. It was the elderly nun's favorite spot,
      and Elena smiled again indulgently, realizing she wouldn't have to come up
      with an excuse to leave her work, before resetting her face and getting back
      to the matter at hand.
      
      
      
      An Immortal! Although she was on Holy Ground, she looked around, picked up a
      large butcher knife, and slipped it into her skirt pocket, just in case,
      whispering, "Please, God," at the same time. Stepping out into the corridor,
      she quickly moved to a window where she could see into the courtyard, and by
      that time she knew it wasn't Methos, and it wasn't an enemy. She knew this
      particular buzz. She had always known it. She'd shared it. It was a
      particular and powerful presence, and more familiar than anyone else's. She
      took several deep breaths, trying to remain calm, closing her one eye,
      remembering.
      
      
      
      Two bodies and two minds; but just one heart and one soul. Forever.
      
      
      
      Once, he had come under the shape of the protector, the eternal friend,
      trying to fulfill and ancient prophecy about a black flower.
      
      
      
      Starting in the seventeen hundreds, and for the next four centuries, they
      had both been in love; sometimes together, loving each other as just one
      being; sometimes apart living their lives within different worlds. It had
      never mattered to either of them. Their love for each other had always been
      strong, everlasting. Just like them, Immortal. She had to tell him that,
      tell him something, make him understand what he'd meant to her, and how much
      it had hurt her when he'd left.
      
      
      
      And now she saw him coming out of Madre Luz's office, pausing to stand in
      the courtyard, looking around. Looking for her, she realized. But she didn't
      dare-didn't dare walk out to him. Pulling her head inside so he wouldn't see
      her, she ran through the corridors to Madre Luz's office and caught the nun
      as she was just leaving. "Please, Madre. This man who came to see me."
      
      
      
      "Senor Alameda. He claims to know you," the nun answered, looking at her
      closely.
      
      
      
      "I know Senor Alameda. I'd ." Make up your mind, Elena, one way or another,
      she chided herself. "I'd like to meet with him. Right now. Today."
      
      
      
      "You would?" Madre Luz asked, eyes widening in surprise. "He's not one of
      the ones who's here to harm you," she continued, making a statement rather
      than a question.
      
      
      
      Elena was impressed by nun's wisdom and perception. "No," she agreed.
      
      
      
      "Well, he did tell me he hurt you before, hija mia. (3) (Spanish: my
      daughter) Are you sure you want to take that chance?" she asked, taking
      Elena's hand in hers.
      
      
      
      Although stern when needful, Madre Luz had always been blessed with an
      overabundance of Christian compassion. Elena felt her eyes fill. As she
      shook her head, tears spilled. "I must see him," she murmured.
      
      
      
      "And so you shall, child. But not today. Give yourself some time to compose
      yourself, and pray. He will be back in the morning and you can see him then.
      And if he doesn't return; then he really didn't want to see you badly
      enough, eh?"
      
      
      
      Elena bowed her head. "You're right. I'll see him tomorrow, when I'm more
      prepared."
      
      
      
      "Good. And if you change your mind, remember you do not have to see him at
      all," Madre Luz assured her. "I'll send him away, if that's the right thing
      to do. On the other hand, you don't really belong here, child-you belong in
      the world. If you feel in your heart you 'need' to see him in order to be
      able to go back out there-then you must be strong." She took Elena's chin in
      her hand and raised her face. Looking into Elena's eyes, Madre Luz said,
      "This one is special, isn't he?"
      
      
      
      Elena nodded silently, then said, "I've always loved him."
      
      
      
      "They're the ones who hurt us the most. Pray tonight. We will all pray for
      you."
      
      
      
      "Si, Madrecita," Elena whispered.
      
      --------

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