Before leaving on her mission to check for Staveros’ family, Sustra looked over her weapons, more out of ritual than utility. With her dagger in hand, the Amazon looked up to watch the Warrior Princess get ready for her grand entrance into Bayentes’ camp.

Xena first unsheathed her sword. In relaxed motions, she whirled it skillfully around her tall form, making Sustra very thankful she didn’t hold a grudge. Apparently satisfied, Sustra concluded from the content grin on the warrior’s face, Xena sheathed it.

Pulling out a dagger that was hidden in her boot, Xena ran her thumb along the blade. Tossing it up in the air by the blade, the dagger quickly tumbled blade over hilt as it rose in the air then started to descend. Catching the dagger by the hilt, she smoothly slipped it back into her boot.

Sustra smiled, considering every experienced warrior has a hidden dagger for emergencies as she ran her thumb over the blade of her own dagger. Glancing up, Sustra’s eyebrows furrowed curiously when she saw Xena’s shoulders tense oddly.

Out from the Warrior Princess’ cleavage popped another dagger.

"Ow," Sustra blurted and her bloody thumb shot up to her mouth as Xena snatched the breast dagger from the air.

"Problem?" Xena asked with amusement, as she eyed the weapon and returned it to its happy home.

"No no . . . uh . . . supposed to be sharp, right?" Sustra shrugged, glancing at her dagger. Placed her thumb back in her mouth, the Amazon pondered the sharpness of the Warrior Princess’ happy dagger.

The Warrior Princess grinned.

"Right," Xena responded as she instinctively reached for her last weapon. Her grin immediately dissolved as her fingers brushed over where her chakram would have hung.

"I’m ready," Sustra quickly informed the disturbed Warrior Princess, attempting to draw her thoughts away from the painful memory. "You?" She mumbled with her thumb back in her mouth.

"Yeah," Xena replied with a small, appreciative smile and turned to pat Argo on her neck.

Seeing Xena whisper something into her ear seemed a little odd to the Amazon. But then, Argo was a smart horse, Sustra considered with a shrug.

"Be careful," Xena said, turning to the surprised Amazon.

"Uh . . . you too," the Amazon responded, watching Xena mount. With effortless grace, Xena propelled herself onto her horse . . . sidesaddle.

Sustra’s mouth dropped as she gasped in fear. Her shock dissolved in to annoyance as the Warrior Princess chuckled and swung her right leg over to reposition herself on the saddle.

"Sustra, lighten up," Xena said with a smirk.

The look outs alerted the camp as the Warrior Princess rode towards them, alone. They nervously watched her tall form sitting imperiously on her golden mare as she slowly glanced over the camp. A camp which they fully expected to soon be hers.

She noticed the men, curiously appearing weary, almost defeated. A few of those men nervously surrounded her when she stopped in the center of the camp.

"Where’s Bayentes?" Xena coolly asked the tallest soldier, who’s eyes darted uneasily to the others, then to a tent which she suspected he was in.

Tired of waiting for a response, she dismounted. One soldier made a half-hearted attempt to stop her by placing his blade in her path.

"You’re manners leave a lot to be desired," Xena noted with a raised eyebrow, prompting the soldier to quickly move his sword out of her path.

Opening the tent flap, Xena saw everyone turn and nervously look at her. A few lieutenants stood in a protective line in front of a cot, immediately drawing her attention to the injured man on it.

"Invite her in . . . " Bayentes blurted cordially through a wheeze.

"Sir?" One lieutenant asked hesitantly.

"Good Gods, NOBODY listens anymore," Bayentes complained then started coughing. "I want to see her," he added, weakly wiping the spit away from his mouth.

Xena cautiously went to the cot and looked down at the dying man who was once her trusted, then victim, now . . . enemy.

"Your Amazon arrows did this," he weakly informed her as if it were merely a stain on his tunic. "I was so close to victory . . . wasn’t I?," he asked with a small smile and coughed. Sniffing, he added wryly, "well, you lose some, you lose some. . . . "

She knelt down and looked under his bandages. "You. . . ," she ordered a lieutenant. "Get my saddle bag, and YOU," she looked at another lieutenant. "Get some hot water and rags," she barked, prompting quick action.

"What in Tartarus are you doing?" He asked, coughing.

"Your wounds weren’t that bad until they got infected. I think we can still fight the infection . . . ," she noted with encouragement.

"Xena? Do you actually think I will stop hounding you or your loved ones if you help me get better?" He asked calmly and coughed.

She looked at him and considered the question. Sighing heavily, she answered "No."

"Then it would be in your interest to let me die, don’t you think?" Bayentes asked her with a smirk.

"Yes . . . it would," she answered as she continued to take the bandages off, motioning to the lieutenants to come closer with the items they brought.

"For GODS’ sake woman, are you deaf?" He snapped, then smiled oddly.

"I’m NOT going to let you die because it’s easier for ME if you do," she snapped back.

"What? Don’t tell me you are worried about your soul NOW, Xena," He blurted with a chuckle, followed by a cough.

"It’s about time, don’t you think?" She replied as she grabbed a damp cloth and started to wipe his wounds carefully.

"No," he blurted, grabbing her hand and stopping her from cleaning the abscessed wound. "Do what you should have done in the first place . . . kill me," he told her.

Xena took a deep breath.

"You OWE me, Xena," he spat bitterly.

Xena made a decision to finish what she started.

"You . . . owe . . . ," he repeated angrily, stopping when the dull sensation filled his chest. A smile flickered across his face before he stilled.

Xena stared at her hand, which still wrapped around the dagger protruding from the now dead man.

She remembered when her friend first joined her army, the various campaigns he fought for her, and that hot, miserable day when she disfigured him. Her eyes lifted to his earless face. She did owe him . . . more than she could ever repay. But she finally finished what she started, something he also wanted. Now she would move on.

"You were a good warrior, Bayentes," she whispered as she let go of the hilt of her dagger.

"We await your orders, Xena," Rolf announced, clearing his throat nervously when she shot an annoyed glare at him.

"How can you possibly follow me?" She asked in annoyed amazement and stood.

"Uh . . . ," he looked around to the other lieutenants, who shrugged. "You defeated our leader."

"Defeated? I just killed a dying man," she responded incredulously.

"Still . . . ," Rolf shrugged.

"You all ride against me to get revenge one moment, then you turn around and follow me in the next?" She asked, nonplused.

"Uh . . . revenge?" Rolf questioned then looked to the other lieutenants, who shrugged. "What exactly are you talking about?" Rolf asked cautiously.

"Why did you ride with Bayentes?" Xena’s eyebrow raised questioningly.

"It certainly wasn’t for the advancement opportunities," Rolf blurted with a smirk, then noticed the Warrior Princess’ annoyance growing. "Uh. . . he payed well," Rolf offered quickly, looking to the other lieutenants who nodded their heads in vigorous agreement.

"Really well," Rolf added to the surprised warrior. "Well, until he started to run out of money," Rolf explained. "He had downsize and let some soldiers go. ‘Right-sizing,’ he called it. Anyway . . . with you leading us, I’m sure in no time . . . ," Rolf relayed with encouragement.

"Money. You just did it for money," she interrupted numbly and glanced down at Bayentes.

Mind games, she concluded in weary amazement and shook her head. He won that round too, she considered with anger, reluctant respect and most of all . . . relief.

"What are your orders," Rolf asked, drawing her eyes away from her dead enemy.

"Go home," Xena replied and started to leave the surprised group.

"But . . . ."

Pausing at the tent flaps, the Warrior Princess looked back at the confused men.

"We should all just . . . go home," she added wearily and left.

CHAPTER 40 - A Brilliant Plan

"Dr. Covington?" Georg whispered into her room after the doctor left, looking in the hallway for nurses.

"It’s clear, Georg. Where’s the truck?" She asked blinking her eyes to focus, still feeling the effects of the drugs from her surgery.

"Back at the hotel," he said. "What are you going to do? The detectives are questioning Miss Pappas now," he said, evoking a concerned look from Janice.

"Shit," Janice blurted and closed her eyes with a guilty ache in her heart. Opening her eyes, she focused on Georg. "Tell the detectives I want to see them RIGHT now," Janice informed him firmly, hoping to minimize the time her southern friend would be subjected to that unpleasantness.

"What are you going to . . . ?" Georg questioned, then froze, hearing the southerner’s voice in the hallway. He glanced nervously to Janice.

"I can’t believe you are not going to let her rest, she’s been shot and just operated on you know!" Mel blurted with annoyance as the crowd following her passed the nurses’ station and approached the room. A blond nurse looked up from the desk at the parade passing by and frowned.

"The doctor said she could see us, Miss Pappas," Detective Agnu countered unsympathetically.

"Guess they saved you a trip," Janice informed Georg wryly.

Mel entered the room first and smiled with relief at the site of her alert friend. Detectives Agnu and Pollus, and Sgt. Tomas quickly filed into her small hospital room behind her. Sgt. Tomas grinned appreciatively at the well-endowed blond nurse, who entered the room last. Esther was ready to toss every last one of them out if HER patient so much as blinked funny.

"You ok?" Janice asked with concern as she glanced at the southerner then the crowd.

Mel shrugged her answer and approached the archeologist’s bedside.

"How are you feeling?" Mel asked, reaching out to squeeze her forearm.

"I asked you first," Janice responded with a grin, making Mel sigh and roll her eyes.

"So Dr. Covington," Detective Agnu interjected. "You’ve been involved in some interesting events lately," he blurted with a smile.

"You could say that, Detective Agnu," Janice relayed coolly.

"You shouldn’t be surprised to know, you are our prime suspect in the theft of the gold at the moment," he informed her with a smile. "Eight witnesses have implicated you."

Janice silently nodded and stared at the smiling detective. Nope, now would not be a good time to hand over the gold, she considered.

"Aren’t you going to say anything?" Detective Pollus asked in surprise.

"Why bother? You’ve already decided what happened," Janice offered, still staring at Agnu, who stared back with equal dislike.

"Miss Pappas has made some interesting accusations about Doctor Wright and Doctor Maveros," Agnu noted, seeing the cool archeologist glance at the southerner.

"Janice, I had to tell them what I know," Mel explained.

"I know," Janice said softly, glancing at the southerner a moment longer before returning her attention to the less pleasant-looking detective.

"The problem is," Detective Agnu explained. "They are not exactly the kind of people to be associated with gold smuggling and . . . ."

"I am," Janice finished his sentence.

"Yes. But your friend has an interesting solution to your problem," he offered, prompting the archeologist to look at the southerner with worry.

"All we need is a confession from Dr. Maveros," Mel offered simply, making Janice stare at her in amazement.

"We’d need the gold too," Detective Agnu noted with a smile.

Janice glanced between the southerner and detective. What the HELL was she thinking, Janice wondered, looking over at the crowd in her room and focusing on Esther, who’s eyebrows raised expectantly.

"I’m tired, is there anything else?" Janice informed them conveniently. It also happened to be the truth.

"Ok, time to go people," Nurse Esther informed them forcefully, winking at Janice as she started to move the herd.

Mel’s eyebrows furrowed.

"We’ll have someone right outside," Detective Agnu informed her with a sigh. "So don’t plan to go anywhere, DOCTOR Covington," he added, glancing at Mel with a thin smile and left with the crowd.

Nurse Esther stood in the door with her hands on her hips glaring at the final visitor. Mel sighed with annoyance and started to leave.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Janice snapped the southerner.

"You’re tired and YOUR nurse wants me to leave," Mel responded with annoyance.

"Miss Pappas . . . . " Nurse Esther called firmly to the straggler, making Mel roll her eyes. Normally, she’d really appreciate someone protecting Janice. But for some reason, she just didn’t like this blond . . . extremely attractive . . . woman.

"It’s ok Esther, I wanted to talk to her," Janice informed the nurse, who’s eyebrows furrowed.

"Janice, you are in NO condition to . . . ," Esther blurted with annoyance.

"ESTHER. . . Sweetheart," Janice interjected with an uneasy laugh, drawing a curious look from the southerner. "I just need to talk to her," Janice explained with a soft smile, making the nurse’s firm position crumble. Esther sighed and shook her head with a small smile.

Mel’s eyebrow raised as she glanced between the nurse and her patient.

"You need to rest to heal, Janice," Esther added softly.

"Remember that," she added bluntly, throwing a glare at Mel before leaving the southerner alone with the archeologist.

When the door to her room finally closed, Janice finally exploded.

"And how the HELL will I get Dr. Maveros to confess?" Janice barked, startling the southerner who was still glaring at the door. "She MUST know something went wrong by now. If I just waltzed in, she’d call the cops on me, or more likely - just shoot me" Janice added.

"I wasn’t talking about YOU getting her to confess Janice, I’ll do it," Mel told her confidently.

"WHAT?!?"

"Would you just calm down and listen? All they need is for Dr. Maveros to admit her involvement in front of the police or a witness the police trust . . . Sgt Tomas has volunteered . . . . "

"Absolutely NOT," Janice blurted, amazed how the bad situation kept getting worse.

"Janice, I don’t think we have much choice," Mel reasoned.

"MEL, there is no WE about this. This is MY problem. I’m not going to let you risk yourself or your reputation if this brilliant plan of yours goes sour," Janice argued vehemently.

"Janice, trust me," Mel said simply.

"It’s just not worth the risk," Janice told her with pleading green eyes attempting to dissuade determined blues.

"It is to me."

Early the next morning, an uneasy Mel stared out the backseat window of the taxi as it stopped at their destination. Her eyes followed the long flight of steps up to the imposing marble building perched on top.

She would have felt much more comfortable had it been the University of South Carolina, where her family had considerable pull and the friendly faculty spoke southern. However, there was no use wishing for that, she sighed. She was going to meet with that scary woman who, despite being the senior professor of archeology for the University of Athens, had an appalling lack of manners.

The southerner turned from her window to find the driver and Sgt. Tomas turned towards the back seat and Georg, sitting next to her in the back, staring at her. She sighed and started opening her purse to pay the taxi driver.

Sgt. Tomas furrowed his brow. "I’ll get it," he offered, quickly pulling out his wallet from his suit pocket, surprising the southerner.

As Sgt. Tomas handed over the fare to the driver, Georg leaned towards her and discreetly asked, "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I am going to clear Janice," Mel said firmly, making her friend nod.

With a deep breath, she clenched her purse and started to exit the cab. Glancing up, she was once again pleasantly surprised by Sgt. Tomas who was already at her door, with his hand extended. Smiling, she reached out to take the offering. As she stood, the strap of her purse fell off her shoulder and caught on the door knob handle, causing her to stumble back.

"Oh. . . " she blurted uneasily.

"Careful . . . ," Sgt. Tomas cautioned and quickly came to the rescue with a strong arm wrapping around her. ". . . Miss Pappas," he finished with a sly grin.

Staring at the sergeant’s bandaged nose inches from her face, Mel dropped her purse, which dangled on the open door. The sergeant smiled and reached down, easily rescuing the purse from the clutches of the hostile door. With the purse in hand, he once again stood face-to-face with the southern lady and handed the purse to her.

With narrow eyes, Georg glared at Sergeant Romeo, who accomplished that heroic feat single handedly . . . since he never removed his hand from her hip.

"Ah. . . thank you, sergeant," Mel responded as she took back her purse. With a questioning glare she glanced between him and his unneeded hand on her hip.

"Perhaps you should call me Spirou, Miss Pappas. Dr. Maveros might be suspicious of a Sergeant in the Greek Army showing up in her office," he suggested softly, his brown eyes gazing into her nervously blinking blues. He smiled and finally removed his hand.

"Good idea . . . Spirou," she responded hesitantly. "Let’s go," she announced with a weak smile, gingerly stepping around him to head towards the steps.

At the bottom of the steps to the Department of Archeology with Georg and Sgt. Tomas at her side, Mel glanced over her shoulder. She easily spotted the detectives in their car. If she could spot them, she worried if Dr. Maveros could too.

"Do you think Dr. Maveros really is involved?" Detective Pollus asked his mentor as they watched the three approach the University steps.

"I don’t know," Detective Agnu responded. "I guess anything’s possible," he added with a shrug.

"Like Dr. Covington isn’t really involved?" the younger man asked.

"I think that’s about as possible as pigs flying," he blurted with a smirk.

"Hmmm. She has Miss Pappas fooled then," the younger man responded. "She’s convinced of Dr. Covington’s innocence."

"Miss Pappas is either really naive or . . . ," Detective Agnu spat without finishing, not wanting to speak of that distasteful alternative.

"But what if she’s right? How will she get Dr. Maveros to confess," Pollus relayed.

Detective Agnu shrugged.

Xena sat on Argo, looking down at Bayentes camp one last time, deep in thought.

"You ready?" Sustra asked, drawing the warrior’s attention to her. Xena took a deep breath and nodded unconvincingly.

"It will be ok, Xena. You’ll see," Sustra added with a small smile of reassurance and rode off to catch up to Sylvia and her little boy riding ahead.

Xena sighed, not as confident as Sustra. She patted Argo on the neck and nudged her with her knees to follow the optimistic Amazon.

Xena’s stomach was in knots as they entered Zemal. She wondered if Gabrielle was up and about yet, knowing if she could - she would. Her gaze drifted from face to face. There were only Zemalians and a couple Amazons in the streets watching them arrive with no sign of the Poteidaian bard. She sighed with mixed feelings. Probably resting, she considered.

The Zemalians seemed pleased to see her. The Amazons . . . well . . . Xena considered she was probably lucky they didn’t shoot at her when she rode in.

As she dismounted, Xena watched Staveros cry and hug his wife and child. The reunion brought a smile to the warrior’s face. She was convinced Bayentes had killed them. She was glad she was wrong.

"Thank you Xena, THANK you," Staveros blurted as he still clung to his family and wept.

"Thank Sustra, she rescued them," Xena mentioned.

"Thank you," A teary Staveros relayed to the uncomfortable Amazon, who nodded quietly and shrugged. "Come on you two, let me get you home. . . where you belong," Staveros happily relayed to his family.

Xena watched Staveros and his family go home, wondering with a sinking feeling whether that was possible for her.

Sustra grinned at the tall warrior. "I think you have you’re own reunion to attend to," Sustra offered with a twinkle in her eye. Xena sighed.

"You’ll be fine," Sustra nudged her with a smirk. "Don’t keep her waiting any longer," Sustra prompted the uncertain warrior towards the Inn. Xena nodded. Sustra was right, she considered and started for the Inn.

"You’re too late," Eponin announced to them coolly as she joined them in the street.

Sustra and Xena abruptly turned to the Amazon with alarm.

"This isn’t a bad thing, Xena," Sustra mentioned to the silent warrior again as she turned the roasting rabbit over their camp fire.

Xena stopped her sword sharpening, looked up at the Amazon, raised her skeptical eyebrow, then resumed sharpening her sword.

"I mean, she didn’t know you were coming back. It makes sense that she wanted to move on . . . ," Sustra continued with a shrug.

Xena stopped sharpening her sword and stared at the ground, making Sustra quickly try to amend her words.

"I mean, leave . . . uh, TRAVEL. . . yeah, travel. She likes to . . . ," Sutra blurted nervously. ". . . travel," she added with a defeated sigh.

"For GODS sake Xena, she just went to Amphipolis with your mother," Sustra blurted with annoyance, drawing a glare from the Warrior Princess.

"That isn’t a bad thing," Sustra muttered and turned the rabbit again.

At sunset, they rode into Amphipolis. Xena scanned the busy streets and found more Amazons not exactly thrilled to see her. Bet they’ll be glad to leave, Xena considered with a smirk.

In front of her mother’s Inn, the two riders dismounted. Xena took a deep breath to settle her nervous stomach and entered the familiar establishment. Sustra followed closely behind.

"XENA!" Cyrene called to her with a mixture of joy and concern.

"Mother," Xena responded with a warm hug for her surprised mother as her eyes glanced uneasily over the tavern. Cyrene savored the gift from her daughter, although she knew her visit was to see Gabrielle. She sighed and stepped back from her daughter’s embrace.

"She’s not here," her mother informed her sadly. "After making sure I got home all right, she left with Frea and Solari for Amazonia," Cyrene added, cringing sadly when the warrior shut her eyes and exhaled wearily.

"What you need is a good home cooked meal," Cyrene mentioned eagerly, getting a furrowed brow from Xena, who had lost her appetite.

"You still need to gain your strength, Xena," Cyrene glanced over her thin daughter. "You’re armor is practically falling off you," she added, evoking a sigh from the Warrior Princess.

"And after, we will talk," Cyrene added, caressing her daughter’s cheek as she looked into the sad eyes.

They ate late, after the dinner crowd left the Tavern and the barmaid was able to handle the remaining customers on her own.

For the first time in a very long time, Cyrene was able to have a relaxed dinner with her family. She smiled as she watched her son Toris discuss a wide range of topics with Sustra from swords to scrolls as they each greedily stuffed their mouths with food. She was going to mention that they shouldn’t speak with their mouths full, but they seemed to be enjoying dinner too much for her to spoil it.

Her smile faded as she looked to Xena who quietly stared at her plate, poking her potato with a fork.

"Pass the rolls, please," Sustra mumbled through a full mouth to Xena, who was oblivious to her request.

Cyrene reached across the table to the basket of rolls directly in front of her daughter and passed them to Sustra.

"Thanks," Sustra blurted, causing Xena to glance up from her plate.

"Sorry," Xena said quietly, getting a soft, understanding smile from her mother. Xena’s eyes drifted back down to her plate.

"Dis is guud, Cywrene," Sustra blurted appreciatively with her mouth full.

Xena poked her potato again. Surveying her plate, she decided the boiled spud needed protection it from her piece of chicken and rolled her potato away from the leg.

"Thank you, Sustra," Cyrene chuckled at the woman’s healthy appetite. Cyrene wished Xena would eat just half of what Sustra was eating.

However, distance wasn’t good enough, the warrior concluded and carefully constructed a wall around the vulnerable potato with the army of peas, which wasn’t easy since they tended to desert and roll away. Thinking she would be satisfied once the wall of peas was constructed, the Warrior Princess only frowned, noticing the carrots could easily scale the peas to get at the potato.

"Xena, don’t play with your food," Cyrene scolded the Warrior Princess, making Toris muffle a laugh. Xena’s eyes darted towards him and narrowed threateningly, making her brother giggle more.

Sustra sipped her water and ate another roll.

"Come on and help me with the dishes you two," Cyrene mentioned, then frowned when Sustra swallowed quickly and started to stand with her plate.

"No no, sit down Sustra, you’re a guest," Cyrene informed her warmly. Sustra smiled and shrugged, knowing not to argue with this particular Tavern owner and sat down, happily grabbing another roll.

Cyrene went to her kitchen with her children in tow. Toris placed his dish on the table with the other dishes and went to get some water from the well.

"How was she doing?" Xena asked immediately when Toris left.

"Not good," Cyrene sighed sadly. As Xena opened her mouth to ask another question, Toris came back with two buckets of well water and poured them in the sink. Xena sighed as he started to scrape the dishes and place them in the sink.

"You two go on, I’ve got everything covered here," Toris mentioned as he scraped another plate, surprising the two women.

"Thank you, honey," Cyrene smiled and squeezed her son’s shoulder and left the kitchen. As Xena followed her mother, she paused at the door looking back at her brother. Toris glanced up from the plate in his hands.

"I would have fenced in the potato with the carrots then filled the moat with peas," he informed her nonchalantly, finishing cleaning the plate.

"You trusted the carrots?" Xena asked with surprise, making her brother chuckle.

"Sometimes Xena, you just have to trust your vegetables to do the right thing," her sage brother informed her, making her grin.

Cyrene sat in the cleared Tavern with Sustra, who was finishing the last roll.

"These are soooooo good, Cyrene. You should give me the recipe," Sustra mentioned, surprising the older woman.

"You cook?" She asked with a smile.

"I manage, especially when it involves food I really really like," Sustra replied with a grin. "I don’t have anyone to cook for me. . . yet," she offered and looked up to find Xena standing quietly behind her mother.

"I’ll go check on my horse then call it a night," Sustra announced as she stood. "I’m looking forward to sleeping in a real bed," she added with an enthusiastic grin to Cyrene.

Xena watched her friend leave the now empty Tavern. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Where is everyone?" Xena asked, knowing the answer.

"Xena, talking with you is more important than one night of business, which has finally recovered now that the army is gone," Cyrene informed her with relief.

"You said she wasn’t good," Xena stated with concern as she sat down. "Isn’t her wound healing?"

"The one on her back is," Cyrene responded. "Her heart still needs mending," her mother added softly.

"I know . . . I thought . . . I know," Xena blurted with a defeated sigh. "I don’t know what I am going to say to her . . . I never do," Xena quietly complained. "She’s the bard. . . ."

"Well, perhaps ‘I’m sorry’ would be a good start," she suggested.

"Even I know to say that," Xena countered with a smirk. "I say that a lot to her," she admitted wearily.

"And she forgives you . . . ," Cyrene offered encouragement.

Xena nodded, then shrugged as she uncomfortably glanced down at the table. "Or gets annoyed that I apologize too much." The comment made Cyrene smile warmly.

"But what if she doesn’t this time?" Xena looked up with concern. "What if . . . "

"What if’s . . . .There are a lot of those to worry about aren’t there?" Cyrene interrupted her daughter, who looked at her curiously.

"But what if she doesn’t forgive me?" Xena asked with concern. "She’s everything to me," Xena croaked out a whisper as her eyes dropped to her hands which nervously clenched at the feeling of vulnerability.

"I’ve never known anyone like her," the warrior princess explained to her nodding mother as a lopsided grin couldn’t help but form on the warrior’s face when she spoke of Gabrielle.

"And she gives me so much more than I thought possible. Things I never knew I needed . . . until I met her. Things I know I can’t live without. Her . . . . " Xena looked up to her mother, surprised to find Cyrene sitting back and shaking her head with a smile.

Xena’s eyes narrowed, not understanding what Cyrene found so amusing in her misery. "What?" Xena asked coolly.

"I think you know what to say to her, Xena," Cyrene grinned.

Sgt. Tomas looked up to Department of Archeology building as he tucked the handkerchief in his dark suit pocket, looking very much the gangster. Especially with the bandage on his nose and black rings under his eyes.

"Are you ready, Miss Pappas?" Sgt. Tomas asked, startling the preoccupied southerner.

"Yes," she spoke confidently, trying to ignore the bevy of butterflies in her stomach. Each step she took made her more nervous. As the three reached the top, Mel looked back down at the car and observed the detectives casually get out and look around.

Tripping over the last step, Melinda was once again caught by Sgt. Tomas, who rather enjoyed the opportunity to put his arms around the beautiful American.

"I’ve got you, Miss Pappas," Sgt. Tomas smiled warmly and helped steady her.

"Oh my," Mel blurted with panic, realizing that the ‘good thing’ that happened to her in Zemal was gone . . . .

Georg glared at her with wide eyes, realizing something was wrong.

"Thanks," she remarked uneasily as she started to hyperventilate. Not NOW, she silently moaned as her butterflies started to jitterbug. It was bad enough meeting with Dr. Maveros when she could walk straight without killing herself, but NOW. . . oh no, she moaned.

"Just take a deep breath, you’ll be fine," Georg suggested, hoping he was right. She certainly didn’t look fine, he considered.

"Of course," she added with an uneasy smile and took a long deep breath. Then another. And another. And another. . . .

Finally entering the building, the southern lady stopped in front of a glass door out of habit and glanced at her reflection. At least she could still LOOK good, she considered. It’s just a meeting, she reminded herself. A simple meeting to get that unpleasant woman to admit she was behind the entire plan and clear Janice. Swallowing hard, Mel inspected herself one final time, nervously tugging the bottom of her suit coat down. She looked up to Georg expectantly.

"You look great, Miss Pappas," Georg offered.

"Beautiful," Sgt. Tomas interjected with a grin, correcting Georg.

"I think I’m going to be sick," Mel mumbled, making Sgt. Tomas’ eyebrows furrow.

As Sgt. Tomas looked around the immediate area, because it seemed like something he should to do, Georg leaned towards her with concern.

"If you’re not up to it, you shouldn’t . . . ," Georg mentioned quietly, gently touching her elbow.

"Did Janice have you come with me just so you could to keep telling me that?" She snapped, pulling her elbow away.

"She worries about you," Georg responded. "We both do," he added.

"I’m sorry Georg, I know you do," Mel responded with a sigh and looked over her purse and outfit one last time, her confidence quickly slipping. She considered she better move now before all her confidence was gone.

Pushing up her glasses, she blurted "OK then!" and prayed for the good Lord to help her. As she started to walk towards Dr. Maveros’ office with Sgt. Tomas, Georg’s eyes widened and he called to her.

"Wait!" Georg’ anxious whisper, made Mel and Sgt. Tomas turn abruptly.

"What?" Mel asked uneasily, looking around the halls suspiciously.

Georg reached inside his dusty suit jacket and pulled out a small cloth pouch. Smiling, he handed the small pouch over to a curious Mel.

"I almost forgot I had it," Georg informed her as she carefully opened it and pulled the contents out with her long fingers.

"My grandmother’s watch. . . ," Mel whispered in amazement. Tracing her fingers over the sorely missed heirloom, she noted the hands were on the right time. Daring to hope, she smiled and lifted it up to her ear and heard it ticking away. "It works!" Mel added, taken aback. "Oh, THANK you, Georg," she hugged him, then with a big grin, eagerly put it on her wrist.

"Uh . . . well, actually Dr. Covington found it and dropped it off at the jeweler," he admitted, making the southerner smile broadly. "I just picked it up cause she was . . . uh . . . busy," he hedged, making the Mel’s smile fade.

Georg looked uneasily at Sgt. Tomas, who’s eyes widened, realizing he was referring to the poker game where he attacked a woman, even if it was only Dr. Covington. The beautiful American would certainly not appreciate that, Sgt. Tomas grimaced, seeing all his hard work to impress the southern beauty go down the drain.

Mel’s eyebrow raised curiously at their mutual discomfort. "Doing what?"

"Well so much happened that night . . . ," Georg shrugged, then felt the southerner’s narrow eyes encouraging him to continue.

"You know, it would be nice to chat . . . but don’t we have some business to take care of?" Sgt. Tomas suggested quickly, motioning towards Dr. Maveros’ office. He received look of appreciation from Georg and a glare from the suspicious southerner.

"Yes, you’re right. Let’s take care of one thing at a time, shall we?" Mel sighed and looked down the hallway towards Dr. Maveros’ office.

At the office door of the archeology department, Mel paused and took a deep breath.

Staring at her hand nervously strangling the door knob, she remembered the last time she was there. . . with Janice, who actually wore a dress for her business meeting, trying to play by the rules, trying to get a University job and build her professional reputation. . . . But the cards were all stacked against her best friend from the start, she silently fumed.

They THOUGHT they could get Janice to take the blame, Mel’s eyes narrowed as her anger swelled. But they made the grave mistake of using HER friend . . . not to mention being RUDE while doing it!

A furious Mel, now ready to teach Dr. Maveros a few lessons in manners, pushed the door wide open . . . until it struck something.

"OW!" Roberta yelped through her hands that shot up to her face as she staggered back from the vibrating door.

"Oh MY!" Mel blurted as she rushed into the office. "Are you all right??"

Sgt. Tomas quickly went to the secretary’s side, pulling Roberta’s hand away from her face to inspect her nose.

"Not broken," he announced with a smile, greatly relieving the southerner.

"She do that to you?" Roberta asked the Sergeant, glancing at his bandaged nose, making the southerner frown at the accusation.

"Oh no, Dr. Covington did this," he admitted with a chuckle, getting a stunned look from the southerner, which abruptly stopped his chuckling. "Uh . . . there are no hard feelings," he quickly informed the Mel, who looked at Georg, who quickly looked away to admire the . . . furniture. Sighing, the southerner returned her attention to her victim.

"I’m so sorry Roberta," Mel gushed, eyeing the secretary’s nose.

"It’s ok," she replied with a wave and smiled. "Now what was I doing?" She asked looking around, scratching the back of her blond head. Mel’s eyes widened, hoping she didn’t cause the poor woman any memory loss.

"Oh yeah. The bloody MAIL!" She snapped her fingers. "Now what are you all here for? I don’t have Dr. Maveros down for any appointments today," she asked curiously.

"We’re here to see Dr. Maveros about some business," Mel informed her, with an air of professionalism.

"Without an appointment?" Roberta asked in amazement.

"I’m pretty sure she’ll want to see us," Mel relayed with a polite smile.

"Miss Pappas," Roberta she relayed to the southerner, paused, and turned to smile at the men. Taking the southern lady by the arm, Roberta pulled her aside.

"You were here before, right?" She asked quietly, then looked back at the men to find them curiously looking at her.

Mel nodded.

"Well, you KNOW she doesn’t like people late for an appointment," Roberta explained.

"Yes Roberta, I’m well aware . . . "

"She is even WORSE with people that don’t have appointments," Roberta interrupted, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Please Roberta, tell her I’m here and would like to discuss some business with her," Mel informed her calmly.

"Are you SURE you want to do this?" Roberta asked.

What a question, Mel thought. "Yes Roberta," she answered.

"Ok," Roberta exhaled, having done all she could do, and went to her intercom.

"I’ve heard," Dr. Maveros responded into the phone receiver as she leaned back in her leather chair, looking out the window. The same window she had looked out of for the past twelve disappointing years as head of the Athens archeology department.

"No, I don’t know where it is and it’s not my problem," she responded, pulling a pencil from the collection contained in a German stein by her intercom. She sighed and started to irregularly tap the pencil’s eraser on the desk in no particular rhythm.

"Look, I arranged the pickup, it’s not my fault your men screwed it up," she noted, rolling her eyes.

"They only had to deal with three of them and I’m not counting that idiot husband of yours . . . yes, I’m aware of how much money was at stake here. I had a down payment on a new yacht. But we can’t cry over . . . ."

"Dr. Maveros, Miss Pappas is here to see you," Roberta’s voice on the intercom interrupted the gruff woman.

Dr. Maveros groaned with annoyance.

"Hold on," she spoke in the receiver with a sigh. Leaning to the corner of her desk, she pushed down the intercom lever. "Tell Miss Pappas, I don’t see anyone without an appointment," Dr. Maveros barked harshly and let up the lever, shaking her head.

"Now what was I . . . NO, I don’t know who this Miss Pappas is," Dr. Maveros answered with annoyance. "And I really don’t . . . ."

"Dr. Maveros, Miss Pappas says she is not leaving until she sees you." Roberta’s strained voice once again interrupted the doctor’s phone conversation.

"Damn it!" Dr. Maveros groaned. "Hold on," she spoke into the receiver with a sigh and leaned to the corner of her desk, depressing the intercom lever again.

"Tell Miss Pappas, she is welcome to wait until HELL freezes over," she responded gruffly. "I’m busy and if she wants to see me, she should make a damn appointment!" Dr. Maveros blurted and released the lever.

"God, what is it with people today?" Dr. Maveros complained into the receiver. "Yeah, she was shot . . . I guess so . . . just the shoulder . . . why do you even . . . . Yes, she’s the prime suspect just like we’ve . . . ."

"Dr. Maveros, Miss Pappas said she would like to know when you will be free," Roberta’s voice uttered weakly, interrupting Dr. Maveros again. "She’d like to make an appointment, since she’s pretty sure hell won’t be freezing over any time soon."

"AGGGHHHH!" Dr. Maveros moaned, then heard laughing on the other end of the telephone. "This isn’t funny Alice!" She blurted into the receiver and leaned over to her intercom.

"Tell Miss Pappas, I should be free uh. . . hmmmm. . . oh. . . there’s an opening, put her down for the twelfth of NEVER," she added and released the lever.

"No, I DON’T know who Miss Pa . . . " the gruff woman spoke into the receiver.

"Damn . . . really?" Dr. Maveros faintly remembered, becoming concerned.

"Dr. Maveros, Miss Pappas says she’ll be leaving now but considers you’ll be missing out on a golden opportunity," Roberta’s voice cracked uneasily.

"You want me to what?" Dr. Maveros blurted into the receiver uneasily. "So what if she does? I don’t think we should risk . . . OK, ok, you’ve got a point," the gruff woman responded wearily and hung up the phone. She leaned forward for what she hoped would be the last time that afternoon and depressed the damn intercom lever.

"Send her in," Dr. Maveros sighed.

Chapter 43 - Small Talk

"You’re mother is nice," Sustra said as they rode away from Amphipolis.

Xena nodded.

Sustra didn’t realize it then, but that was the kind of exchange she would have with the Warrior Princess the entire time they rode. Sustra would say something and Xena would nod, shake her head no, grunt or moan depending on the kind of question, while staring at the road ahead. After a few hours, the Amazon finally gave up trying to talk to the preoccupied princess until night, when they set up camp.

"So, what do you want for dinner?" Sustra asked, getting a shrug from Xena.

"Oh," Sustra responded with a sigh and pulled out her own ration of left over rolls from the tavern and some meat.

As Xena built the fire, she glanced over to the Amazon eating her dinner.

"You want some?" She held a hunk of meat out. With an almost imperceptible motion, Xena shook her head no.

With the fire blazing away, Xena sat and started to sharpen her sword.

"You know, you’re mother is a great cook," Sustra relayed as she happily stuffed a roll in her mouth.

Xena nodded as she continued to hone the blade’s edge.

"Aren’t you going to eat?" Sustra asked.

Xena looked over to her steadfast friend. "I’m not hungry," she finally spoke, surprising the Amazon.

"But this is so GOOOOD," Sustra relayed, enthusiastically devouring another roll. The sight made Xena chuckle.

"Your appetite is almost as big as Gab . . . rielle’s," Xena finished hesitantly, the small smile on her face now gone.

"Xena, if you are afraid to say her name, how are you going to talk to her?" Sustra blurted, making Xena sigh at her good point.

Sustra shook her head. Getting up, she walked over to Xena and sat next to her.

"OK. . . the basics . . . Gab-bri-elle," Sustra spoke slowly. "Go on, you can DO it," Sustra coached her friend, who looked blankly at her.

Sustra sighed with disappointment. The warrior was not even trying. "Come on Xena, I know you can . . . " Sustra encouraged her friend, who rolled her eyes. Eyes that quickly glared at the helpful Amazon’s hand which was about to make the grave mistake of touching the Warrior Princess’ cheeks to help form the name.

Sustra laughed uneasily and carefully withdrew her hand.

"Saying her name won’t solve my problem, Sustra," Xena said with a sigh.

"I suppose not," Sustra muttered, disappointed.

"I need to talk to Gabrielle and explain what happened and ask her to understand," Xena stared into the fire.

"She’ll understand, Xena," Sustra noted confidently.

"I could go in first, check things out," Sustra offered as they rode onto Amazon land.

"Not necessary," Xena informed her, feeling the eyes in the forest on her.

"You sure?" Sustra asked.

Xena glanced up to the trees but didn’t see anything. However, bird calls were unmistakable. Their arrival was announced by Amazon lookouts to Amazon scouts. However, the bird calls did not identify they were friendly, alarming Sustra and Xena.

"Not particularly," Xena mentioned, with a sigh. "But it’s too late now . . . . "

The two riders dismounted and placed their swords in the ground as was the custom. When they clasped their hands over their heads, three Amazons descended from the trees.

"Sustra . . . ," Trayla blurted, clasping the Amazon’s arm as she eyed the Warrior Princess.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" Sustra asked.

"Bayentes army disbanded," Trayla informed her, glaring at the Warrior Princess, who brought that trouble to them.

Xena sighed and glance out over the forest.

"Know all about that, anything new?" Sustra said with a smirk, surprising the Amazon.

"Queen Gabrielle is back, but I guess you already knew that too," Tralya informed them, staring at the silent warrior, who’s blue gaze met hers.

"Yeah, Xena needs to talk with her," Sustra blurted.

"Can’t she talk for herself?" Trayla asked with annoyance, making Sustra roll her eyes wearily.

"I need to talk to her," Xena said softly.

Trayla sighed.

"Well, she’s been in with the elders ever since she arrived," Trayla informed them.

"Why?" Sustra and Xena asked with concern.

"Last I checked, they had been discussing whether or not to hold council against you, Xena," she informed them casually.

"Gods," Sustra blurted. Xena cringed slightly, not out of concern for herself but for the bard.

"She’s still healing. The elders are making her meet with them?" Sustra asked indignantly.

"Nobody makes Queen Gabrielle do anything she doesn’t want to do," Trayla responded with a smirk. "Its a just a formality. Queen Gabrielle already declared you pardoned in Zemal," she said to the tall warrior with a shrug. "She didn’t want the Amazons to waste their time holding formal hearings on an accident, despite the large number of Amazons in favor of them," Trayla explained casually.

Sustra glanced at the tall warrior who looked drained.

"You may walk among the Amazons freely," Trayla informed them, pulling the women’s swords from the ground and handing them back.

"But you must still observe our customs and traditions," Trayla informed the tall warrior, who nodded as she sheathed her sword.

"She is our Queen, Xena. If she doesn’t wish to see you, you won’t get an audience," Trayla added to ensure Xena fully understood the conditions, and walked towards the village.

Before following Trayla, Xena briefly glanced at Sustra, who was startled to see so much worry revealed in the warrior’s blue eyes.

"I have heard you’re arguments, Reya. I am still not going to change my mind," Gabrielle repeated for the fifth time.

"Queen Gabrielle, Amazon tradition dictates that . . . . "

"I am well AWARE of the Amazon traditions!" Gabrielle snapped testily, eyeing the group of five women. "But, the fact that Luna and Tynea are daughters of warriors does not mean they should BE warriors. They’ve both told me their hearts lie elsewhere. We should encourage them to follow their hearts, not ignore them," she relayed with conviction.

"We must not ignore their safety either, they should still learn warrior skills. . . for survival’s sake," Reya added.

Gabrielle sighed at their good point.

"Their training should not dominate their time, they must be allowed to pursue their art," Gabrielle countered.

Ephiny grinned, more than happy to let Gabrielle deal with the Elders, who finally grumbled their reluctant agreement.

"Why don’t we call it a day? I’m a little tired," Gabrielle noted and watched the women quickly leave the council hut in a low murmur.

"Ughhhhh," Gabrielle blurted and dropped her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes.

"You want to skip our walk?" Ephiny offered her tired queen.

"NO! I’ve got to move . . . these meetings are so tiring!" The Queen stood and stretched a little, evoking a grimace. Her back was still tender.

"You ok?" Ephiny asked with concern.

"Ephiny," Gabrielle responded wearily, rolling her eyes at the regent who seemed to ask that all the time. "I’m fine, well other than the fact these elders are doing their best to irritate me," Gabrielle muttered as they left for their walk.

"How do you do it? Day in and day out . . . ," Gabrielle moaned as they strolled towards the bard’s favorite spot by a small pond. The sun was setting and the pond was a perfect place to watch it.

"Because it’s worth it to see my home and people prosperous. I only fight with the elders when we disagree," Ephiny informed her.

"So that’s every day, huh?" Gabrielle responded, making Ephiny chuckle.

"With you here, I think we’ll actually make some progress with some of the issues with the Elders and the other Amazon nations," Ephiny relayed with a grin as the pond came into view.

"I’ll do what I can while I’m here Ephiny, but I will be moving on when I’m better," Gabrielle informed the surprised Amazon as she reached out and touched a wild flower as she walked by.

"But . . . you’re not settling down here?" Ephiny asked, gently holding Gabrielle’s arm and stopping her Queen.

"I can’t Ephiny," Gabrielle informed her softly, making the regent sigh with disappointment. "I need to keep moving . . . " Gabrielle added and started once again towards the pond.

"Running?" Ephiny challenged her, stopping Gabrielle who threw her a sharp look which was quickly replaced with a polite smile.

"Well, perhaps after my back gets a little better," Gabrielle informed her, not taking the bait.

Ephiny sighed in defeat. She tried everything she could think of to get Gabrielle to talk to her about Xena. But on that particular topic, her Queen spoke with no one. The reagent grew more concerned each day she pushed down her feelings. It couldn’t be good to bottle her feelings up, she worried for her friend.

"The healer says you should be able to practice your staff soon," Ephiny offered a new topic.

"Yeah," Gabrielle sighed with relief. "I’ll be glad to get back to exercising something other than my mouth," she added with a smirk, eyeing her staff and sitting on a felled log. Ephiny laughed.

"I’ve been thinking a lot about something Ephiny. I wanted to talk to you about it," Gabrielle informed her, a serious tone in her voice.

"Shoot," Ephiny responded, hoping Gabrielle would finally be confiding in her. Despite her efforts to put on a happy front around the Amazons, the regent knew her Queen. Gabrielle was still lost and hurting. As she sat, Ephiny heard her queen say something.

"What was that?" Ephiny asked with a warm smile.

"I want you to be queen," Gabrielle repeated. "So I plan on . . . . "

"What was that?" Ephiny asked again with narrowing eyes.

"You should have the mask. So I plan on . . . . "

"WHAT?!?"

"Ephiny, you’ve been acting queen for all this time and have to step down every time I decide to come back in town . . . ."

"Have I ONCE complained about that?"

"Of course you haven’t, but it just isn’t fair. I do not see myself here, ruling these Amazons for the rest of my life,"

"You have the Rite of Caste, Gabrielle. Terreis entrusted you with that honor. You can’t just give it back," Ephiny blurted in a huff.

"I can, I’ve checked. I am doing a disservice to the Amazon nation by keeping their true ruler, YOU, from the real power," Gabrielle noted. "You deserve the mask," the bard added.

"I don’t know where you are getting your facts Gabrielle, you have NEVER done the Amazons a disservice." Ephiny stood up with annoyance. "As your regent, it’s my duty to tell you, you are NOT thinking straight, Gabrielle. And I LIKE the way things are!" Ephiny blurted and stormed off in a huff.

"Ephiny . . . . Ephiny!" Gabrielle called out with irritation, then groaned as she leaned over and dropped her head in her hands.

Hurricane Ephiny stormed back into the village wanting to hit someone. Considering it wasn’t wise to pummel an injured Queen, she kept an eye out for candidates.

"Ephiny!" Sustra happily called to her, making the regent angrily turn towards her.

"WHAT!?!" Ephiny snapped, eyeing the lead candidate.

"Uh . . . hmmm . . . uh . . . ah " Sustra relayed thoughtfully, scratching the back of her head.

"You don’t say," Ephiny remarked sarcastically.

"Xena’s here," Sustra blurted. Ephiny’s eyes widened and she glanced to pond where Gabrielle was.

"Where is she?" Ephiny asked coolly.

"Trayla is with her in my hut," Sustra noted. "She wants to see Gabrielle."

Mel walked confidently to Dr. Maveros’ door, her optimism buoyed by her first victory against the gruff woman - getting an audience with her. Now all she had to do was merely get her to admit everything in front of Sgt. Tomas. No problem, she told herself, desperately wanting to believe that.

Mel sighed uneasily as she looked over her shoulder at Sgt. Tomas and Georg, who followed closely behind. Both men looked at her and smiled with reassurance. Sure, easy for them to be confident, THEY don’t have to get this woman to confess, Mel sighed and turned her attention to the door.

Pushing her glasses up, Mel started to knock. Before her knuckles met the door, the door abruptly opened, revealing the imposing Dr. Maveros. Her black outfit perfectly accentuated the doctor’s dark mood at the moment, Mel noted as the doctor glared at the southerner’s fist still frozen in the air, then the southerner’s wide blue eyes.

A polite smile quickly covered Mel’s stunned features as she retracted her hand from the air.

Not having noticed before, due to the short period Dr. Maveros tolerated her presence during her last visit, Mel noticed how the older woman’s greying hair, which wrapped tightly in a bun, seemed to accentuate all the wrinkles on the woman’s aged face. Especially the scowl and furrowed eyebrows that formed when she noticed the two men, Mel observed uneasily.

"Hel . . . . " Melinda attempted to greet the older woman, who interrupted the pleasantries.

"I don’t like crowds," Dr. Maveros barked. "I’ll only talk with YOU Miss Pappas," the older woman informed the startled southerner, glaring at the uncomfortable men.

Georg was relieved. He wasn’t really needed in there anyway. The only reason he agreed to go with Miss Pappas was because Dr. Covington suggested it would improve his well being. Remembering her exact and much more colorful words, he cringed. Surely she couldn’t blame him for getting kicked out of the old battle axe’s office. Janice knew what Dr. Maveros was like, Georg attempted to reason away his growing concern.

Sgt. Tomas knew this was not good and looked to the southerner with a hint of panic in his eyes.

Mel smiled and glanced to the concerned men, nodding confidently. She wisely decided against trying to convince the professor she needed them in the meeting. The only reason she could think of was the truth and she expected that wouldn’t go over very well.

As she followed Dr. Maveros into the office, Mel had no idea what she was going to do but then, that was no different than before, she considered as a small consolation.

Mel looked around the large office filled with dark wood book cases, leather furniture, a large world globe and various artifacts tastefully displayed around the office. Glancing out the window, Mel noted Dr. Maveros’ third floor view of Athens was spectacular. What a wonderful place to work, she thought.

"You’re a tenacious woman, Miss Pappas," Dr. Maveros informed her as she motioned the southerner to a chair in front of the large mahogany desk.

"I’ve been told that by Dr. Covington," Mel answered with a polite smile, noticing with interest the odd look that crossed Dr. Maveros’ face.

"How is she?" Dr. Maveros asked nonchalantly, sitting in her leather chair and pulling a pencil from the stein by her intercom. Reclining in her chair, she started tapping the eraser absently on the desk top.

"Recovering," Mel informed her. "She’s in the hospital now," she offered. "The bullet wound to her shoulder has taken her out of commission for a while," Mel added, noting the gruff woman relax a bit.

"Well, no one said archeology was an easy job," Dr. Maveros smirked. "Why are you here, Miss Pappas?" She asked, a little startled to see the tall woman stand up.

"Yes, why am I here," Mel repeated, considering now would not be a good time to pass out. A confession without witnesses was worthless, Mel fretted, her mind racing for an option as she walked over to a barrister’s book case. Until she came up with that option, she needed to stall.

"Nice furniture, Dr. Maveros, you have excellent and expensive taste," she mentioned as her hand traced over the wood appreciatively.

"It’s functional," she offered getting up. "You want a drink?" Dr. Maveros offered as she went over to the large world globe, which conveniently rolled opened, revealing a wide selection of alcohol.

"No thank you," Mel noted with a polite smile. A drink right now would definitely not be wise, she considered, well aware of her tendency to talk even more when tipsy.

"You said something about a golden opportunity," Dr. Maveros mentioned as she grabbed a crystal container of scotch and unplugged the top.

"Yes. . .well," Mel mentioned weakly as she contemplated how to stall. Passing the end of the large mahogany desk, she noted the striking stein full of pencils next to the intercom. Well, that was something to talk about for oh, a minute or so, she considered with a sigh, about to ask about the handsome German creation.

She jumped when she heard Roberta’s voice boom over the small box.

"Dr. Maveros, there are some men who are going to do some painting in the hallway. They wanted the offices to know they were out there," Roberta announced uneasily.

Dr. Maveros shook her head. "God, I hate that thing," she admitted as she poured her drink. "Modern convenience . . . my ass," she mumbled.

Mel eyed the intercom with an understanding smirk. The intercom was one of many pieces of office equipment that did not survive her very brief stint as a secretarial helper in her father’s office. They never did give her proper training on how to operate that thing, she recalled with annoyance at the embarrassment she caused. How was SHE supposed to know how easily that lever jammed . . . .

Mel’s eyes widened as she glanced once again at the pencils conveniently located next to the unsuspecting intercom. Pencils that always seemed to break around her, Mel grinned.

"Dr. Maveros?" Roberta’s voice called out again.

"I should get rid of that thing," the older woman groaned.

"May I?" Mel asked motioning to the box, which would soon experience the same fate as her father’s intercom did years ago.

"Knock yourself out," Dr. Maveros shrugged with the crystal decanter in hand, making Mel smile as she discreetly reached for a pencil.

Mel grinned as she leaned towards the box and depressed the lever.

"Thank you Roberta."

Hearing Miss Pappas’ voice, the secretary looked up at the four men surrounding her desk with surprise.

"What’s she doing?" Detective Pollus asked his mentor, who smiled and motioned for him to be quiet.

"Dr. Maveros and I have much to discuss and would appreciate you not interrupting us with the INTERCOM, unless it is urgent of course," Melinda relayed, hoping she understood. "Starting now," Mel added briskly and snapped the tip of the pencil between her fingers as she coughed.

Roberta sighed and leaned towards her intercom to respond but her hand was gently held by the older detective.

"That won’t be necessary," Detective Agnu quickly noted. "She doesn’t want to be distracted," he added with a grin.

Roberta didn’t understand until she heard the southerner, who was now talking with Dr. Maveros.

The detectives smiled at each other. Georg and Sgt Tomas sighed with relief.

Continued...Part 7 (Conclusion)

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