Author: Tim Knight
Title: Dating Blues, the Sequel! (Or, The Half-Elven Guide To Dating)
Copyright: April 2001
Rating: R (fight scenes, language)
Spoilers: Buffy: Season 2 until Phases.
Highlander: Season 5 until
Season finale. Richie Ryan lives. Season 6 does not take place.
Chronicles of Wanderer: Hunter
In Dark, Faith's Story, Another Run, Avatars of Sung.
Keywords: Buffy/ Highlander.
Summary: Just days after the events in Faith's Story
and Another Run, Amy and Cordelia see Shaw talking to a guy at the Bronze. So, being Amy and Cordelia, they try to set
their teammate up with the guy, who seems nice, and Shaw seems to like
him. To help out, they arrange a date
between a half-elf and a human. Hijinks
ensue. You'll have to read the story to
get anything else.
Legalese: All characters except those noted below with their respective rights,
properties and copyrights are the property of their respective creators,
authors, owners, producers and agencies. These characters are used without permission.
No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will
be made from this story. This story may
be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright
information remains.
The characters Shaw Hunter, Ulric Johansen, Jacob
Devonshire, and Brenna are mine. Anyone
wishing to use them may contact me at doobytim@aol.com.
The characters Steve St. Wolf, Randi Jessup, and
Brian Jessup are property of Steve Pantovich, as is the universe in which this
story takes place. Steve can be
contacted at steve711@concentric.net.
The character Robin Goodfellow is property of Mike
Weyer.
Author's Notes: This story takes place in mid- to late-January of 1999, just after
Faith's Story by Steve and Another Run by Hawk.
Dedications: To Steve, the Grand High Matchmaker of the Wandererverse who, with his
sick and twisted sense of humor, loved the idea of this story.
To Rebekah,
She of the Editorial Persuasion and Dripping Red Pen, who's going to be as
surprised by this story as anyone since I didn't tell her it was coming. As for this story, thanks for the advice on
clothing for winter in California, since she’s a California girl.
To Mike,
for letting me bounce ideas off his head, and for introducing Robin to the
Wandererverse.
Here are the changes from normal shows that may play
a part in this story:
Buffy:
1. Due to her drowning at the
hands of the Master in Prophecy Girl, Buffy is Immortal.
2. Passion and Becoming never
took place, so Jenny and Kendra are alive and well. Kendra has taken up residence in Sunnydale and is attending UC
Sunnydale.
3. Amy Madison is a full time
Slayerette.
Highander:
1. Richie Ryan is alive.
2. No Highlander: the Raven
continuity.
The Bronze
Sunnydale, California
"Look at that," Amy says, quietly nudging Cordelia.
Cordelia looks over, and nearly drops her Diet Coke. "I don't believe it!" she hisses under her breath. "Willow, look at the counter."
Willow follows Cordy's gaze, and shrugs. "What about it?"
"What about it?!?" Amy snaps a little too loud. "Shaw's talking to a GUY!"
"So?" Willow asks with a shrug. "She's talking to a guy."
"And smiling at him too," Cordelia points out.
"Isn't that a good thing?" the junior witch asks.
"Yeah, but. . ." Amy says before shaking her head to make sure she isn't hallucinating. "That's SHAW!"
Willow looks at her fellow Amazons, and realizes what they're thinking. "Oh no," she protests. "Count me out."
"Oh come on," Cordelia smiles, eyeing Shaw and the unknown man like a cat watching an oblivious mouse. "She's the only one who isn't in the same boat as us. Don't you think it's about time she 'joined' us in romantic bliss?"
"I'm not going there," Willow promises.
"What? You think we won't see what happens or if she likes him first?" Amy asks with a frown.
Willow pauses to consider her answer. Finally, she says, "Look, you two. This is Shaw we're talking about."
"Yeah, it'll be hard to get her on a date without her knowing we're setting her up," Cordelia smiles, relishing the challenge. "But..."
"Cordy, the ears? The eyes?" Willow reminds the dark-haired Amazon. "Miss Modesty and Honesty?"
Amy and Cordelia are deflated by that. "Oh."
"You two considered using the direct approach?" Willow asks.
"What?" Amy and Cordelia ask in surprise.
Willow rolls her eyes. "Try asking Shaw if she's *interested* in going on a date with the guy before setting her up. She did mention that if we set her up and the guy's good for her, she wouldn't object to our choice."
"I know," Cordelia grouses, "but that takes half the fun out of it."
Willow buries her head in defeat. "And how about what she pulled on us last month?"
"What?" Cordelia asks.
Amy sighs. "I think she means when she made Toby swear on the names of Kevin and Oberon not to talk to anyone of a female persuasion unless it involved the fight, racing engines or computers."
"Oh, but she doesn't have time to prepare for us this time," Cordelia grins.
"I'm doomed," Willow moans.
Jacob Devonshire watches as a gorgeous black-haired woman walks up to the bar and orders an orange juice. Besides being attracted as any man would by her slim-hipped, well-toned figure, he's also intrigued by her taste in beverages. Another point in her favor is that she has an exotic accent he's never encountered before.
As the woman waits for her drink, he decides to strike up a conversation. "Excuse me, Miss?" he says in his cultured British voice.
The young woman turns and gives him a neutral look with almond-shaped hazel eyes only one or two shades darker than fine Oriental jade.
"Yes?" she asks cautiously. "Can I help you?"
"Uhm, well," he says hesitantly, looking nervous, "I couldn't help but notice your accent."
"What about it?" she asks with a glaring lack of tact.
<Direct. Well. > Jacob thinks before saying, "Well, I just find it surprising that another person from outside of the Colonies is in a town of this size."
"Ah, I see," the girl says, loosening up a bit. "You are British?"
"I'm originally from London, yes," Jacob admits. He rubs a hand through his well-groomed blonde hair and tells her, "But I just moved to Los Angeles. Might I ask where you're from? It's comforting to find someone else from Europe here."
"I was born in Glenfillen, Scotland," the woman answers. At his raised eyebrow, she chuckles. "Believe me, you are not the first to notice the accent. My father was in the SAS, so I traveled much in my youth."
Upon hearing those three letters, Jacob's surprise is evident. "An SAS brat?"
"Do you wish to make something of it?" is her quick, cool response.
Jacob doesn't take it seriously as the corner of her mouth cannot stop from twitching. He raises his hands and says, "No, I know better than that. Tomboys are notorious for fighting dirty."
"It is good that you remember that," she says. As the bartender hands her a glass of orange juice, she says, "If you will excuse me, I must rejoin my friends."
"Wait!" the Brit says quickly.
When the woman gives him an even glare at his seeming order, he quickly apologizes. "Sorry, but I was hoping to catch your name."
"Why?"
<Oh brother. . .> Jacob sighs and says, "Well, I'll be in town for a few days, I was hoping perhaps that we might encounter each other again while I'm here."
The woman continues to stare at him, looking somewhat amused. "Are you attempting to chat me up?'"
The look of mortification on Jacob's face is almost comical.
"No!" he protests a little too loudly, drawing some attention from the teenagers in the club. "It's just, well. . . you strike me as someone I would like to know. Perhaps even share a dance with?"
Hearing the question at the end of his last sentence, the woman blushes a bit. "I am not good at these. . . American styles of dancing. I prefer the more. . . traditional styles of Home and Eire, thank you."
Jacob watches her blushing, and is surprised that this woman's confidence could plummet at all, let alone at a simple question. "Well, you also have a surprisingly discriminating taste in beverages," he generously offers.
"I also have a caffeine allergy," she wryly adds. She looks up at him, seemingly surprised by her admission. She asks him, "Who are you?"
Not put off by her phrasing, he extends his right hand. "Jacob Devonshire, late of London, England, now a resident of Los Angeles."
This time, the woman responds without hesitation. She clasps his hand in a firm grip and smiles. "Shaw Hunter, late of Glenfillen, Scotland, now a resident of Sunnydale, California."
"Ah. Well, if I may be somewhat forward," Jacob says kindly, "might I see you here at all in the next few days?"
Shaw watches him, attempting to figure out if this man is actually asking her out. "If you are asking me if I will be here at the Bronze, then the answer is most likely to be yes. As for anything else, I am sorry. I am not sure about that."
Jacob graciously accepts the partially positive answer. "Of course, Miss Hunter. I apologize."
Shaw smiles a bit, and says, "That is all right, Jacob Devonshire. No offense is taken."
Jacob watches as the woman named Shaw turns and walks to a table populated by three other attractive teenagers, trying not to notice how the three are intently watching their friend's dialogue with him.
Quietly, Jacob finishes his Kahlua and Cream and walks out of the bar.
Shaw walks over to the table and sits down. She takes a long sip of her orange juice before she looks up and sees her friends smiling at her.
Looking at them, she asks, "What?"
"Who's your friend?" Amy asks her cousin.
With a shrug, Shaw says, "He is an Englishman."
"Oooo." Cordelia adds with a grin.
Shaw looks between the two of them, and realizes she's under the proverbial microscope. "What do you mean by that, Cordelia?"
"Well," the Amazon warrior says with a shrug, "he's cute, for one thing."
"And you actually talked to a guy," Amy adds.
"He initiated the conversation," Shaw says defensively. Futilely shrinking a bit into her seat, she says, "He was attempting to gain a dance, perhaps a date. I cannot be completely sure."
Amy and Cordelia bury their faces in their hands, while Willow just giggles.
"Is something wrong?" the half-elf asks Willow.
"No, they're just disappointed in you not talking longer, maybe arranging to see the guy," the Wiccan explains.
Shaw thinks about adding anything else, but decides to add (somewhat reluctantly), "I did tell him that I might be here again while he is in Sunnydale. Beyond that, I made no commitments in any way."
Amy stares at Shaw in surprise. "Wait a minute, cuz," she says with a raised eyebrow, "you actually said 'maybe?' You didn't say 'no?'"
"That is correct, Amy," she answers.
Amy smiles at Shaw, as does Cordelia.
"Well, it's about time you made some progress on that," Cordelia declares happily. "You need to talk to guys, Shaw. How else will you find a boyfriend?"
Shaw moans lightly and closes her eyes. "Cordelia, I am only going to say this once; I can only go slowly on such matters. Especially with my unique nature."
"Hey, hey, I know," Cordelia objects. "We wouldn't expect you to go 'wham bam' in one night. But you only got two hundred years left, remember?"
"Don't wanna be an old maid, cuz," Amy teases.
"Too late," comes a voice from behind.
The Slayerettes turn to see Faith standing there, wearing a black micro mini dress with a plunging neckline that leaves more exposed than covered. Cordelia watches her with thinly veiled jealousy; the newest Slayer might be a Boston tomboy, but when it comes to dressing up, she's nearly Cordy's match in that regard.
"Sorry I'm late, but I was talking to Buffy," the New Englander says. "She and Steve didn't have any luck finding Spike. Dru's having a fit, but she says that she can sense Spike 'far away.' But enough work. What'd I miss?"
"Shaw talking to a guy without gagging," Cordelia smiles.
Faith smirks at the priestess and says, "Huh. Must be rubbing off on you, Hunter."
"You wish," Shaw laughs. The Slayerettes still feel some surprise that she and Faith are good friends so soon after Faith joined the team. "But do not think of moving in, Faith. He is not your type."
"Oh? Is he gay?"
"No, it did not seem so," Shaw adds, not seeing the point to the question.
"Then he's my type," the Slayer grins. "But I'll let you have first crack at him."
"Thank you so much," Shaw says. The fact that she blushes is not lost on the three Amazons.
"You like him," Willow says in a bit of surprise.
Shaw shrugs. "He seems polite."
"And the fact that he's cute?" Amy prods with a smile.
"I do not know what you are talking about," Shaw says in apparent confusion before taking another sip of her juice.
"Oh, don't try the false confusion act," Cordelia snaps. "Won't work this time."
"I cannot be a fair judge if he is 'cute' unless I compare him with my previous experiences in such matters," Shaw tells the quartet.
"Uh, you're a fifty-four year old virgin," Faith says.
Shaw drains her orange juice, still three-quarters full, in one quick draught. "Exactly," she says, just as she rises to head for the bar with her glass.
She quickly walks away before anyone can comment.
"Smooth retreat," Amy grumbles.
"Oh, don't worry," Cordelia says in wonder. "I've seen that look before. She wouldn't mind seeing Union Jack again."
"Should we be glad or feel sorry for the guy?" Faith asks in complete seriousness.
No one can answer that one.
The Bronze
Sunnydale, California
One day later
Shaw walks into the Bronze with Jessica, talking about their latest assignment for Comparative Literature.
"What's wrong with doing a fantasy story?" Jessica asks, knowing about Shaw's love of such novels.
Shaw hesitates before saying, "It smacks of David wanting to get even with me for when we trapped him into doing that romantic story."
"Hey, you didn't want to do it either, if I remember," the junior says in a pointed reminder. She tugs at the collar of her blue blouse and says, "But you went along with me since it was my turn. Now it's his, and he probably figures you'll jump on the bandwagon and do most of the research."
Shaw sighs in agreement. "Yes, I know you both find it most advantageous that I work in the library," she says before a smile touches her lips. "I simply do not approve of his idea of, as he puts it, 'reworking a classic.' It seems like plagiarism to me. Our work should be original."
"I told him the same thing," the redhead tells Shaw. "I think you should just choose a subject and we'll do it that way."
Shaw nods noncommittally, and looks around the Bronze.
"Looking for the seniors?" Jessica teasingly asks.
Shaw shakes her head, remembering her initial clashes with her classmate David Abhrams, over his belief that she associated with the Slayerettes to be 'cool' by becoming friends with seniors. Jessica, David's girlfriend, had come to her defense, reminding him that not only had it been the Slayerettes (though neither junior knew about that aspect of their friend) who had welcomed Shaw to Sunnydale High, and that most of them were considered as far from popular as one could be, but Shaw had a more personal reason for associating with them; Amy was her cousin, and thus family. That defense had led Shaw to thank her, and the three have since become friendly towards each other, working on many assignments as a team.
"So who are you looking for?" Jessica asks in confusion.
"A person I met last night," comes the gingerly phrased reply.
The fact hits Jessica like a bullet between the eyes. "Shaw Hunter!" she blurts in amazement. "You met a guy?!?"
"Please do not announce it to the whole planet, Jessica," Shaw pleads. "I only spoke with him for a few moments. Nothing more happened."
Jessica looks at her with a smile, thinking differently. "Then why the jeans that are tight to the second power?"
Shaw stiffens, and looks at the *very* form-fitting pair of red jeans she had selected for coming to the Bronze tonight. The black sheer shirt she wore was just as tight, and left no room for imagination as to her figure.
"Jessica, please," she begs her friend. "I listened to enough teasing from Amy and Cordelia last night. I told Jacob that I might see him here tonight. That is all."
"Please," comes a British-accented voice from behind the two women. "Call me Jack."
Jessica jumps in surprise, but Shaw quickly turns around out of habit, nearly putting herself into a martial arts stance before recognition sets in.
Shaw slowly relaxes, and Jacob makes no comment as to whether or not he sees her guard going up.
"Jacob," she says in greeting.
Jessica turns around and whistles in appreciation. Jacob looks about twenty-two and stands around five-eight, and is obviously attractive. His blonde hair is immaculately groomed, and his baby blue eyes are very noticeable. He's wearing a pair of casual slacks, a conservative long-sleeve shirt and loafers. He's not muscular like a bodybuilder, but it's obvious he takes care of his body.
<I wouldn't mind taking care of it either, > she thinks gleefully. She remembers that this is the man that her companion just mentioned, and she sees the look in his eyes. <Well, looks like our Lit talk is waiting 'til tomorrow. Glad David's coming in a few. >
"Pardon me," Jessica says, her blue eyes smiling at her quick planning, "Jack, I'm Jessica Smithson. Pleased to meet you."
"Charmed," he says, his accent melting Jessica in her heels. "Are you a friend of Miss Hunter's?"
"Uh, yeah," Jessica says before remembering that Shaw was looking for him when they walked in. "We're in Literature class together."
"Oh?" Jacob asks, lifting an eyebrow at the two juniors. "A literature buff?"
"Actually, my first love is music," Shaw answers carefully, not knowing why she's telling him this about herself. "I play the songhorn."
Jacob smiles at the name. "Haven't heard of someone playing that for a long time."
"Excuse me," Jessica says, looking at Shaw. "I'll leave you two alone."
"What?" Shaw asks in confusion over Jessica's seeming abandonment. "Jessica, what are---"
"Three's a crowd, Hunter," the young woman tells her. "And four? David's not going to get involved with this."
"What 'this?'" Shaw asks, completely baffled.
Jessica doesn't answer, but just smiles and heads off with Shaw watching her back.
Jacob smiles at such consideration from the teenager. He turns to Shaw and asks, "Might I join you, Miss Hunter?"
Shaw turns her head back and forth, caught by this course of events. Finally, she shrugs. "If you wish. I seem to have been abandoned."
<Thrown to the wolves is more like it, > Jacob chuckles to himself at Jessica's leaving the two alone. "Well, can I buy you a drink?"
Not knowing what to make of the offer, Shaw decides it's okay this once. "Orange juice?"
"Of course," the Englishman says politely.
He walks off, letting Shaw choose a table that's not occupied. The Slayerette looks around as if she's caught in a dark alley, but wishes she were when she sees Cordelia and Xander in the entryway, both watching her with goofy smiles on their faces.
<Oh, Goddess, NO! > Shaw thinks in despair. She sends them a pleading look that begs them not to embarrass her.
Xander is about to walk forward, but Cordelia smacks him on the back of the head, then uses one finger to cross her heart before leading him to a secluded corner of the club.
Shaw lets out a massive sigh of relief, not knowing about the plan being enacted by somebody else.
Jacob walks over to the bar and orders a Pepsi and an orange juice, both with ice. As he waits for the order, someone calls to him.
"Excuse me?"
He looks over and sees a young woman, about seventeen or eighteen, with shoulder-length blonde hair and dark blue eyes watching him. She's very attractive, but something about her strikes him as familiar.
"Yes, Miss? May I be of assistance?" he asks.
"I just wanted to know if I could buy you a drink," the woman offers with a brilliant smile.
Jacob is flattered by the offer, but politely says, "I'm sorry, Miss, I truly am. But I'm already buying a drink for somebody else that I'm spending the night with."
"Spending the night? Oh, sorry," she says.
"I did not mean it that way, Miss," Jacob icily replies. "I meant here at this establishment. I am very much a gentleman."
The way he says it seems to convince the girl that he's sincere.
She shrugs and sadly says, "I'm sorry. My own bad luck to be late, I guess."
"I'm sorry, as well," Jacob says gently. "Perhaps another time, if I'm not with company."
"Sure," she replies. She holds out a hand and says, "If that's the case, I'm Amy."
"Jacob," the Brit says, shaking her hand rather than kissing it in the manner she seemed to expect. "But I prefer Jack."
Amy nods and leaves Jacob to his company.
Jacob goes to the table selected by Shaw and places her drink on the table with a napkin beneath it. He sips at his Pepsi.
"Would you believe that a girl asked to buy me a drink while I was waiting for ours?" he asks.
Shaw lifts an eyebrow. "What happened?"
"I politely told her that I already had company for the evening," he says firmly. "Unless of course you choose otherwise."
"I have no objections," Shaw carefully replies.
<Tough nut to crack. She wouldn't be worth knowing otherwise, > Jacob thinks. "Yes, Amy seemed quite forward. It must be an American trait."
Shaw freezes in bringing her glass up to her mouth. "Amy?"
"Yes," he replies. "You know her?"
"You might say that," Shaw growls. She looks around but sees no trace of the woman. "I do not think her desire was to buy you a drink, Jacob."
"Please, call me Jack," he requests. "What was her desire, then?"
Shaw sighs in embarrassment. "I believe it was a test."
"How so?" Jacob asks in confusion, but with amused curiosity.
"Do you remember when I told you that I had cousins here in America?" the priestess reluctantly asks.
"Yes," Jacob answers before putting two and two together. Looking at her blushing face, he asks, "Did I pass?"
"I do not know," Shaw confesses. "The fact that she has not come to our table telling me she needs me is a good sign, I would assume."
Jacob laughs and says, "Protective, is she?"
"We are protective of each other," Shaw counters. She smiles and tells him, "And as for her forwardness, it is not an American trait. She might be American, but she comes from Irish and Scottish stock."
Jacob laughs at her irreverent comment. "I see your point."
"You can relax, Jacob," Shaw assures him. "I do not think we will be bothered."
"If that is truly the case," Jacob says, setting down his soda, "would you care to dance?"
Shaw stares at him, and says, "You cannot be serious."
"I promise, only slow songs," Jacob grins, going so far as to raise his right hand.
Shaw is somewhat reluctant to dance in front of her friends, despite the lessons they've given her. However, she is relaxed by Jacob's gentlemanly manner.
"Very well," she nods, not able to hide a blush that turns her cheekbones a deeper blue. "But only upon the condition that you will not file a lawsuit against me if I break your toes by stepping on them."
Jacob starts laughing, but Shaw adds, "I am being serious. I move better with a sword in my hand."
Jacob stops laughing and asks, "A sword, did you say?"
Shaw quickly masks her reaction. "Yes, a tai chi sword."
Jacob gives her an "Aaaah" of understanding. "Yes, I see. Tai chi is very relaxing I hear."
Shaw nods in silent agreement as she stands up to join Jacob on the dance floor.
Xander is snickering at Shaw's hesitance as Amy joins them at the table.
"Well?" Cordelia asks in interest.
Amy says, "Brit turned me down flat. Don't know whether I should be glad for Shaw or insulted."
"You guys playing matchmaker?" Xander asks in mock horror. "Oh, poor, poor Shaw."
"Shut up, Xander," Cordelia orders her boyfriend. "Or I'm going to cut it off."
"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Xander mocks her. His mocking is quickly followed up by an, "OW!"
"That's for being stupid," Cordelia snaps. "Now shut up before I give you one for warning her about our matchmaking back in November."
Xander cringes and mutters, "Sorry, Hunter. You're on your own."
Amy and Cordelia glare at him before turning their attention to the dance. After three minutes of slow dancing, they begin to be hopeful when she doesn't step on his feet at all.
The Amazons breathe a sigh of relief as Shaw and Jacob head back to the table and their drinks.
Amy leans into Cordy and asks, "Think she dressed up for him or is it just a coincidence?"
"She likes him," Cordelia reasoned. "Let's see what happens, and maybe we'll con her into calling him to set up a date."
Xander just remains silent, to preserve his health. <Hail, Caesar. We who are about to die, salute you. . .>
When Amy sees Shaw excuse herself from the table and head for the bathroom, she says, "Okay, I'm going to talk to her and see how it's going."
"Amy, leave the poor kid alone," Xander tells her. "She's actually enjoying herself, don't you think she's capable of handling things on her own?"
"Yeah, but what are cousins for if not to lend a helping hand?" Amy asks with malicious glee.
"Setting their cousins up with boyfriends which is a pain in the butt," Xander replies.
Seconds later, he adds to that statement.
"OW!"
"Go get her," Cordelia says in encouragement.
As Shaw reties her braid to gather up loose hair, she sees Amy in the mirror as the witch walks into the women's' restroom.
With a sigh, Shaw turns around and folds her arms imperiously.
"What did you think you were doing?" she acidly asks.
Amy stops, taken aback by the emotion in Shaw's voice. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Hunter," she pleads, raising both hands in her defense. "I was just checking him out for you."
"Which part of his anatomy were you checking out?" Shaw asks with a bark.
Amy's jaw drops at the question. She demands, "What's gotten INTO you?!?"
"Displeasure at your interference," the half-elf responds with a touch of anger. "I do not appreciate your involvement in something that did not require your intervention."
Amy's own anger fades as she gets the point. She puts her hands in her pockets and sheepishly admits, "Okay, you're right. But like you said last night, you don't have any experience with this stuff. I just want to be sure you handle it okay."
"Are you saying you have no confidence in my ability to judge people?"
"Of course not!" Amy blurts out. Looking around hastily, she says, "Geez, Hunter! I was just trying to make sure the guy was worth your time.
I. . . I was just looking out for you, okay? Family does that."
Shaw considers her answer, then her face falls. "I'm sorry, Amy."
"Sure you are," Amy says. When Shaw's eyes snap to her, she adds, "When you use contractions, it means you're nervous about something. That something wouldn't happen to be tall, blonde and British, would it?"
Shaw's nervousness disappears, and Amy can't help but notice the contrast in her face. Her face is flushed, but her eyes are hard.
"That is not your affair," she replies.
Amy grins and says, "You like him."
"Amy. . ."
"Whoa, hold the phone," the younger cousin orders Shaw. "Look, I just want to help if you'll let me."
"You mean match me up if I let you," Shaw grumbles in disgust.
Amy sighs. "Look, don't back away from him because of us. I'm being serious here, I want you to be happy. You know that." Amy waits a few seconds before asking, "Do you like him?"
"What if I do?" Shaw says through closed eyes.
"Then ask him out," the Amazon orders in seriousness.
Shaw's eyes open, filled with doubt. "What?!?"
"Shaw," Amy says, gripping Shaw's arm, "it's simple. Step one, you ask him if he wants to go on a date. ONE DATE. Not commitment, just you and him going out one time. If it doesn't work out, then it's one night, no problem. Other fish in the sea and all that. But if you like him, and you two agree that you'd like to see each other again, you think about it. You got time, you can take it slow. I figure that's your way anyway, am I right?"
Reluctantly, Shaw agrees.
"Good," Amy says with a smile. "No pressure from us, go out and ask him out. But only if you want to, not just to date him but to see if there's a spark between the two of you. Got it?"
"Yes, Amy," Shaw says with great hesitation.
Amy sighs. "Look, Shaw. You can't be nervous when you ask him, 'cause he'll know you're hesitant. You have to really want to do this."
Shaw takes several deep breaths, and says, "And of course you and Cordelia will be watching every single move I make, won't you."
"Yep," Amy grins sadistically. "If he says yes, Cordy and I will help you get ready for the date."
Shaw's eyes widen in horror at that possibility, and Amy digs the knife deeper. "And watch those contractions. Dead giveaway for nerves."
Amy turns and leaves her cousin in the restroom, wondering what she's just agreed to get herself into.
Amy rejoins Cordelia and Xander, who look at her expectantly.
"Well?" Cordelia asks.
"I think she's going to go for it," Amy answers. "She was NOT happy about testing Jacob."
"Color me stunned," Xander replies. When Cordelia glares at him, he asks, "You think she'd like the stakeout on her?"
Cordelia can't argue with that, so she turns to Amy. "What happens if he says yes?"
"I think Shaw'll faint," Amy grins.
"No, she'll faint when we help her get dressed," Cordelia grins even more.
"Uh, guys, just an idea here," Xander says as he raises his hand, "but would you consider that this Jacob guy is British, and went for Miss Modesty rather than anyone in minis or mega-minis? He might go for the British reserved, Mary Poppins look more than the Slutty Slayerette look."
"Hey!" Amy and Cordelia protest.
Xander sighs and says, "Plus, this is Shaw we're talking about."
Amy and Cordelia star at him for some time, then at each other.
"We've got our work cut out for us," they say in unison.
"Duh," Xander laments.
Shaw walks over to Jacob, who is patiently waiting for her.
"Are you all right, Miss Hunter?" the Englishman politely asks her.
"Please, call me Shaw," the elven warrior says. "And yes, I am all right."
"Only if you call me Jack," her companion says once again. When she looks hesitant, he adds, "It's simpler, less formal."
Put somewhat at ease by his manners, Shaw nods. She looks at him, and asks, "Jack, you said that you would be in town for a few days?"
"Yes, for about a week, perhaps two," he tells her. "Why do you ask?"
"I. ." Shaw tries again, looking him in the eyes to convey her intentions. "I wanted to know if you would be free to spend some time together tomorrow night. If you have no prior obligations, that is."
Jacob looks slightly surprised, but he smiles kindly. "As it so happens, I don't have any plans for tomorrow. I would gladly accept. Perhaps you would like to show me around the town?"
Shaw considers her options and hits on an idea. "Have you been to the Boardwalk here in Sunnydale?"
"No, I haven't had the time," he confesses. "Interesting choice."
"I like to watch the sun set over the ocean," Shaw confesses, her face flushing. "Watching the reflection of the sun rise while the actual item descends can be most fascinating."
"Well, I never thought of that," he admits. Taking her hand and kissing it gently, he tells her, "I shall see you tomorrow, then?"
"Would you meet me here at five o'clock?"
Jacob nods and says, "Of course."
Watching from their table, Amy and Cordelia are still stunned when they figure out that Jacob has accepted Shaw's proposal.
"Oh my Goddess, she did it!" Amy hisses in happiness. She looks at Cordelia, a bright smile on her face. "Shaw asked him out!"
Cordelia is smiling too. "Shaw Hunter on a date. 'Bout time."
Xander asks, "You realize that she has never been on a date in her life, right?"
"We're going to help," Cordelia protests.
"I know," Xander mutters. With a sigh, he says, "Shaw is so dead."
Cordelia smacks him.
Shaw watches Jacob leave and considers what just happened. When it finally sinks in that she's agreed to a date with a human Earthman, she feels a cold dread in her stomach as she realizes she'll have to ask Cordelia and Amy for help in her preparations.
There's only one thing Shaw can think of to say to that.
"I am so dead."
Sunnydale Mall
Sunnydale, California
Shaw tries not to run for the nearest exit as Amy and Cordelia talk about her upcoming date with Jacob, talking as if she were not there.
Cordelia leads Shaw towards a department store, and says, "Okay, are you ready?"
"What do you think?" Shaw sighs. "Why do I think that you trapped me into this?"
"Because you've got good instincts," Amy smiles at her. Waggling a finger, she tells Shaw, "But I said it was your choice, Hunter. You asked him out, so you can't chicken out. And Cordelia and I will drop you off at the Bronze for meeting him."
Shaw looks at Amy through hooded eyes. "You are not going to, how do you say, 'tag along?'"
Giggling at her suspicion, Cordelia says, "Shaw, as far as how the date goes, you're on your own. Well, at least as far as women go. The guy has to be there for the date to work."
Shaw snarls at the Amazon dangerously. "Cordy, please don't make fun about this."
Shaw turns and storms into the department store, heedless of Amy and Cordelia staring at her with wicked grins.
"She called me Cordy," Cordelia says in surprise. "She's nervous."
"Try scared shitless," Amy counters. With a feigned sigh, she dreamily says, "Ah, to be on a first date with a gentleman."
The two Amazons share some more laughs before hightailing it into the store after their teammate.
Jacob Devonshire's Flat
Near the Sunnydale Boardwalk
Sunnydale, California
Jacob Devonshire steps out of the shower, a dignified smile on his face at the thought of his encounter tonight. He walks into his bedroom and proceeds over to the window. He throws open the curtains, allowing sunlight to flood in and light up the room without running up his electric bill.
Clad only in a towel, Jacob walks over to his closet and begins to look through his wardrobe, trying to decide what he'll wear for his date with the young Scotswoman.
<Hmmm. She was dressed in American clothing last night, quite revealing about her figure, but not scandalous in the least,> he thinks to himself. He rubs his chin, and thinks, <That may simply to be fitting in with her new home. She isn't the typical army brat. No, she's actually quite formal. Lass could be a tad more tactful, but it's honesty, not harmful in the least. So. . . she'll probably wear something more dressy, but quite conservative. Modest, but nice. . . oh yes, and if I read her right, appropriate for the wintry weather. Shaw seems to possess a great deal of common sense. Something lacking in many young ones these days.>
Jacob nods as he begins to go through his clothing.
Sunnydale Mall
Sunnydale, California
Shaw makes it nearly fifty feet into the department store before realizing that she needs to follow Cordelia's lead.
<A dangerous proposition at the best of times,> Shaw ruminates. <But hardly avoidable in this instance.>
She turns and waits for Cordelia and Amy to catch up, but they're taking their sweet time. Shaw folds her arms and taps her foot on the ground, a habit she's unconsciously picked up from Buffy.
"You're in a rush," Amy says jokingly. When the joke falls flat, the witch adds, "Look, Shaw. We're here to help. You asked us, and quite frankly, you need it. But this trip's actually going to be kept simple. We'll take it easy on you."
"I remember hearing that before," Shaw mutters. "Please humor me and define 'simple.'"
"Okay," Cordelia gushes at Shaw's being trapped. "We figured, knowing you and seeing that this Jack guy's English, you'd go for the innocent virgin look."
Shaw raises an eyebrow. "I might be a maiden, Cordelia, but I could hardly be classified as 'innocent.' I have too much combat experience for that."
"The LOOK, Shaw, not the fact," Amy moans. "And ixnay on the ombat-cay. Don't mention stuff outside of the date or fashion while we're here."
Shaw nods, properly reminded of her secret. "Your point?" she asks not anger but in interest.
Cordelia smiles and says, "It's simple. You were planning on wearing your white dress, right?"
Shaw stares at her for a second. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"You're modest, but sensible enough that you'd dress up for Jack," Cordelia mentions. She puts a supportive hand on Shaw's shoulder and says, "And we're not really here to get a wardrobe for you, but just some stuff to compliment your dress. It's really going to be quick and easy, Shaw. And we won't do anything to mess with you, you're nervous enough as it is."
Shaw fumes at how much Amy and Cordelia are enjoying themselves over her predicament. Finally, she says, "Very well. What is our first stop?"
"First, we're going to get you some nylons and tights to wear," Amy informs her.
Shaw nods in understanding. "I see. Something appropriate for this outing?"
"Stop thinking of it as an 'outing,' Hunter," Cordelia advises her teammate. "Start thinking of it as a DATE. Or if you want to put it like you would on your world, a social outing or social gathering or whatever term you use."
"Perhaps I used the wrong word, but I am not using the wrong image, Cordelia," the ranger promises. "But why both hose and tights?"
"For a simple reason," Cordelia smiles, glad that Shaw isn't fighting tooth and nail against her. Ticking off on her fingers, she says, "It's January, girl. You really plan on going to the Boardwalk and freezing your legs off in the middle of winter? This is California, sure. But you still want to dress warm. That’s what the tights are for, they’re warmer."
Shaw considers Cordelia's advice and nods. "Rather than casting a spell to resist the cold and possibly revealing myself at this stage."
"That's another reason, Shaw," Amy says in approval. "Good thinking. And we're going to get you some different colors, since you need to match colors with the appropriate clothing you have. Since you've stopped fighting us all the time on Mall outings, we'll take the next step."
"If you mean miniskirts, you are wasting your time," Shaw snaps softly. "At least at this time."
Cordelia waves her hands around. "Look, we're getting off track here. Let's just get the stuff to start her off and go from there."
The three quickly agree and head for the hosiery racks.
After quickly determining Shaw's size for hose, Amy and Cordelia pick out five pairs; nude, white, black, navy and hunter green. Amy explains to Shaw that they don't have the ability to try them on at the store to see how they feel, Shaw grumbles over how much she’s buying for just one date.
"Look, you can't seem to make up your mind, cuz," Amy says testily. "First you think we're setting you up, then you're thinking we're trying to ruin it for you. Make up your mind."
"Amy, lay off," Cordelia orders the witch. "She's just nervous about this." She looks at Shaw, and says, "Unless it's that time again?"
"No, it is not," Shaw wearily says. "Why do you always think that?"
"Typical Earth thing. When a woman acts abnormal, blame it on PMS," Amy grins despite her irritation. "Welcome to the ranks of Earth women."
Shaw sighs and says, "I am so glad you two are enjoying yourselves at my expense."
"Well, we gotta get our shots in where we can," Cordelia replies. Waving for Shaw to follow, she says, "Next, to the shoe department to get you some heels."
Shaw stops dead in her tracks. "Please tell me you are joking."
"Nope," Amy tells her. "You can't wear black or blue tennis shoes, and the sandals you normally wear with the dress won't keep your feet dry if there's rain on the ground. We were thinking along the lines of some nice Capizeo ballet flats or leather espadrilles with a one-inch heel. "
Cordelia also says, "And what's the big deal? We've seen the way you walk; you walk on the balls of your feet ALL the time. What's the difference here?"
"The heels will put me off balance," Shaw answers. "It was hard enough to concentrate on dancing in my running shoes without consciously watching my steps, now you expect me to wear heels?"
"Low heels, Shaw," Amy promises. "Something close to the ground. Sheesh. It's like you expect us to squeeze you into six inch stiletto heels."
"I saw enough of those in Waterdeep," the half-elf mutters, referring to a long-ago Harper mission. Seeing the sick looks on Amy and Cordelia's face, she sighs. "Fine. But I prefer comfort and function."
"Which is why we're getting you low heels," Cordelia promises. "Six inch stilettos go with leather and I don't mean ranger armor."
Looking at Cordelia's grin and not amused by it, Shaw adds something else about her mission in the pleasure hall. "I will not go into a store with you if it sells whips and other such devices. What you and Xander do in private is none of my affair, and my standards are far too high for something of THAT nature."
Shaw walks by, leaving Cordelia and Amy stammering.
Amy finally looks at Cordelia, and asks, "Is it just me, or is it really easy to forget she's had no social life before?"
"It's easy," Cordelia replies with a shudder.
Jacob Devonshire's Flat
Near the Sunnydale Boardwalk
Sunnydale, California
Jacob looks at his reflection in the mirror to check out his chosen attire. He's wearing gray slacks over black socks and casual shoes, with a white t-shirt that will be covered by a black turtleneck sweater when he leaves for the date. Satisfied that this is appropriate clothing for what will be a very chaste (in every sense of the word) date, he checks his watch.
Seeing that the time is only 2:45, he realizes he's got two hours to kill before leaving for the teen club called the Bronze.
<Well, I suppose I could prepare the other items in the room,> he thinks to himself. <After all, the room is in a state of disarray from unpacking, and I am not Oscar from the Odd Couple. In fact, I put Felix to shame. And I do need to make sure everything is arranged for my stay here. I do hate to rush things. After all, patience is a virtue.>
With a grin, Jacob proceeds to do a little light cleaning to pass the time until he meets Shaw.
Sunnydale Mall
Sunnydale, California
Shaw gingerly walks towards Cordelia, clad in low heeled closed toed pumps of a dark green color. Seeing her hesitation, Amy walks up to her quietly.
"Shaw, stop thinking about the heels," Amy instructs her. "Think of it this way; think about the weight being evenly distributed on the front and heel of the shoes. The heel only touches the ground for a second, and if you balance your foot so that you walk normally, the weight will fall on the front like when you're normally walking. I know it's hard the first time, but you catch on quick. Now try it."
Shaw looks at Cordelia, who nods at Amy's methods of explaining things. Shaw takes a deep breath, and slowly makes her way towards the Amazon. While it's quickly obvious to all three that it'll take time and work for Shaw to master the art of walking in heels, Amy's method of helping seems to have done part of the trick as Shaw does seem more proficient if using Amy's stratagem.
"Well, I suppose that'll do for now, Shaw," Cordelia tells her. "Do you want to wear them out for practice or wear your tennies?"
Shaw quickly sits down and pulls the heels off.
"Sheesh, you don't have to be pissy about it," Cordelia offers. When Shaw glares at her, she says, "Just kidding, just kidding. You did good your first time."
When Shaw stops tying her gym shoes, Amy quickly adds, "That was a compliment, Hunter."
Shaw doesn't look convinced, but finally nods to her. "Might I ask what happens next?"
"You sure you want to hear our advice?" Amy asks, only half-joking.
"Is it as relevant as your other advice has been?"
<She just THANKED us!> Cordelia realizes in shock. She nods and smiles. "Yep. You usually wear a duster or trenchcoat for hiding swords and stuff, right?" After Shaw nods, the warrior tells the half-elf, "Well, you need something for wet weather and stuff. Something like a gabardine raincoat with zip-in lining or just a wool coat. ‘Course, I’ll make sure you get something fashionable."
Shaw seems less hesitant over a coat, and smiles at Cordelia’s pledge at the end. "I can see your point, Cordelia. You are right on those counts, so what would you suggest?"
"Follow me," she grins.
Jacob Devonshire's Flat
Near the Sunnydale Boardwalk
Sunnydale, California
Jacob throws his turtleneck sweater on, and looks in the mirror once again. Seeing his hair has come out of place, he quickly takes out his pocket comb and professionally puts it back in place. When it's done, he puts the comb back in the pocket of his slacks and goes over to the room.
Walking in, the Englishman makes sure everything is tidy and in place for when he comes home tonight. He rearranges a couple of items to make sure they're properly put in place and accessible, then picks up a couple of items he's likely to need, should trouble arise.
<Seeing what I've seen in this town, that's likely. I just hope it doesn't ruin our evening,> he prays.
Satisfied that he has everything, he checks his wallet and both counts his cash and checks for his credit cards.
Shaw strikes him as the type of person to prefer, no demand, that both parties pay equal shares of whatever costs are incurred during the evening, by his estimation.
<Sorry, oh noble lass,> he thinks, folding his wallet and putting it in the pocket of his coat. <But you won't pay for anything this evening. My father always said that gentlemen always act like gentlemen. And I most certainly AM a gentleman.>
With that final thought, Jacob throws on his coat and walks out to enjoy the evening in the company of a woman that seems to be a combination of beautiful, formal, and principled.
<Far too few of those these days,> he thinks.
Johansen/Hunter Residence
Sunnydale, California
Amy sits on Shaw's bed while her cousin prepares for her date with Jacob. Cordelia had begged to be dropped off at her home to dress up for her date with Xander, and Shaw could hardly object with all the help she'd received over the course of the day.
"What do you think?" Shaw asks as she looks at herself in the mirror.
"It's good for a start," Amy says as she looks the nerve-wracked priestess up and down.
Shaw is wearing her white dress, which falls to her calves. Under that she's wearing dark green tights that she had bought only hours before, remarking how they feel very comfortable and much like the silk full body suits she wore on her Waterdeep mission.
<Shaw in a silk catsuit?> Amy had thought at the time. <Great. Another unbelievable image courtesy of one Shaw Madison Hunter. Of course, Xander probably read about it in the story Shaw wrote him for Christmas, so I'm glad he didn't bring it up in front of the girls.>
Shaw is now looking in the mirror, brushing her hair out. Currently unbound, the thick black mass falls to the midway point of her back. Amy still is in amazement that it was Alison Madison, and not her elven mother, that Shaw inherited the trait from. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen old pictures of Alison and Lydia, who both had that trait.
<I guess I got the shallow end of the gene pool,> Amy thinks. <I mean, my hair's good and all, but damn. Then again, it's a monster to take care of and brush out every day.>
Shaw finishes combing her hair out, and looks in the mirror. "Amy, what do you think?"
Before Amy can answer, another voice adds its two cents worth.
//I think that you look too much like Arial,// Brenna, Shaw's telepathic Guardian Spirit answers. //You look too much like that stuck-up Persian, rather than a pragmatic and dignified Siamese. You should cut it short.//
Shaw gives Brenna a dirty look, but the cat just lies on Shaw's bed, her eyes peered but emanating amused satisfaction.
"Next you will be asking me to change my eyes to blue," the half-elf says tiredly.
"What did she say, cuz?" Amy asks in good humor while reaching over towards Brenna. As Brenna senses Amy's intent and rolls over so Amy can rub her belly, the witch adds, "Although I hesitate to ask."
Shaw relays Brenna's answer, and Amy laughs.
"She also mentions that you are a good person, even if your smell is not pleasing to her senses," Shaw adds.
Amy quickly jerks her hand away from the purring cat, who yowls in protest. "What does she think I smell like?"
"A dog," Shaw replies with a smirk.
Amy gets the joke at her expense, and says, "Very funny."
//Thank you,// Brenna replies to the oblivious Amy.
"But anyway, you look good," Amy says. She taps her finger on her chin, then says, "It's supposed to be a tad windy tonight, so I'd suggest doing up your hair."
Shaw nods in agreement, and moves her hand to the right. Sitting near her statue of Mielikki is her Celtic hair clasp, a birthday gift from her adoptive cousin, Duncan MacLeod. She takes it up, and starts to put it on.
"You think that's appropriate for this date?" the Amazon asks with a raised eyebrow.
Shaw stops and looks at Amy through the mirror. "He is British, I am supposedly Scottish. . . well, you know the truth, I am partially Scottish through our grandmothers. It is Scottish, so how could it not be appropriate? If you think one of those simple cloth. . . scrunchies, you call them? If that would be more appropriate for this attire, please tell me. I look to your advice, Amy."
Amy thinks about it for a few seconds, but shakes her head. "Nope. This time you're right. And being silver, it won't shine like gold does and have some pickpocket trying to rip it off your head."
Shaw smiles at Amy's praise, but Amy quickly continues.
"But, at the same time, you want to have some jewelry on. I know you don't like it, but maybe you should leave the pendant here tonight. I know it matches the dress, but the chain's a little longer than most girls would wear. Definitely keep that sword guard on the thong here. You do NOT want to have to explain that to your date."
Shaw sighs in defeat. "Rings?"
"Now those you *should* wear, Shaw," Amy grins at Shaw's attempts to consider everything. "The gold is nice, even if it's magical. The ivory is a nice touch, it has the 'antique' look that your clasp has. I know it's new, but most people will think you've got taste in antiques. At least for jewelry."
Shaw nods and slips her rings onto her fingers. On her right she places her ring of regeneration, which to most people seems like a normal gold band set with a black star sapphire with miniature diamonds on either side. On the left hand goes the ring she received from Mielikki Herself, made of ivory and set with a diamond. Despite not being magical, Shaw finds it infinitely more valuable then the powerful healing item.
"What else?" Shaw asks while going back to preparing her hair.
"Shoes, coat, and maybe a dagger in the coat pocket," Amy advises. At Shaw's surprised reflection, the witch states, "Hey, you're not carrying a sword on your date, but this is still the Hellmouth."
"That is what flame blade spells are for," Shaw replies.
Amy shakes her head. "But it takes a few seconds to cast the spell, and a split second to take effect. This way, you got a weapon handy. This thing isn't advice from a friend, Shaw; it's an order from me. Your cousin."
Shaw thinks about the concern in Amy's voice, and smiles at her through the mirror. "Thank you, Amy."
"Thank me when the date's over," the witch grins.
//Of course Shawukay doesn't thank me for my advice.// Brenna relays.
Shaw sends the cat a glare.
The Bronze
Sunnydale, California
Amy pulls her father's Ford Taurus up to the front of the Bronze and turns the car off. She looks at Shaw in the back seat and asks, "Ready, Shaw?"
To her surprise, Shaw answers, "Yes, Amy. I am as ready as I can be, thanks to your help as well as Cordelia's."
"Okay, go ahead and get out, and head on in. And don't worry, just concentrate on having a nice time and you'll have no problems with the heels."
"That is easy for you to say," the half-elf grumbles good-naturedly.
"Yeah it is," Amy agrees with equal humor.
Shaw opens the car door, slowly steps out, and gently closes the door.
Shaw walks around to the driver's door, prompting Amy to roll down the window.
"What is it?" Amy asks.
Shaw reaches into her purse and pulls out forty dollars. "This is for you."
Amy's face falls and the witch says, "You don't pay me for helping you, girl. I was glad to do it."
"Amy, I insist."
Knowing that Shaw's idea of insisting was much more forceful than true insisting, Amy reluctantly takes the money.
"What am I supposed to do with it?" she asks as she stuffs the two twenties in her pocket.
"You will know," Shaw replies. Shaw looks up and sees Jack enter the Bronze without seeing her standing there, so she utters a quick prayer.
"Stop that, it's going to go fine," Amy chides her.
Shaw nods and starts walking towards the Bronze.
Once she walks in the door, Amy pulls out her cell phone, quickly dialing a number. She says, "Okay, she's meeting him. Come on."
Ten seconds later, Xander and Cordelia walk out of the alley, climbing into the Taurus. Settling themselves on the back seat, they look at Amy expectantly.
"What's the plan?" Xander asks.
"Simple," Amy tells the fighter. "We follow at a discreet distance, we keep an eye on them, and if it becomes necessary, we bail them out if any vamps attack them."
"Good plan," Xander admits while looking at the witch. "But you know that if she sees us, we're going to be in deep ca-ca with her over invading her privacy."
"Yeah," Cordelia says sourly. "We'll set back our progress on teaching her Earth culture for months if we blow this."
"Don't worry," Amy assures the lovers. She turns the car on and says, "We're going to go around the block for about ten minutes and I've cast a tracing spell on Shaw's coat. So wherever she goes, we can follow her as long as we're inside a quarter mile."
Xander and Cordelia nod in approval of Amy's plan. The witch smiles as she pulls out from the curb where Shaw was dropped off.
Seconds later, the three are startled to hear a dull repeating sound.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Amy says, "What the heck is that?"
"Pull over," Xander moans.
Amy quickly does so and parks the car.
Xander jumps out of the passenger side door, walks around to the back of the driver side, and moans.
"Amy, come here," he tells her.
Both Amazons quickly jump out and look at the flat back tire of the Taurus.
Amy is stunned. "What the Hell, these were just put on last week!"
"It wasn't a nail, Amy," Xander said. "We would've heard it if it was a quick puncture."
Amy's mind flashes back to Shaw handing over the money, and quickly shifts her perceptions into the magical. Seconds later, she's pounding her hips with her fists.
"Oooooooooooooo! That pointy-eared ranger is SO DEAD!!!" she shouts.
"What?" Cordelia asks. "This is her fault?"
"Cordy, she called up one of those stupid mini-air elementals INSIDE the tire! She turned the air in the tire into a dust devil and it came out the nozzle and left me with a flat tire!" Amy screeches.
"That's why she left you the forty bucks," Xander put forth.
"Xander, these tires cost seventy bucks!"
"But a tow truck doesn't," he counters.
Amy looks at Xander. "Hey, I know how to change a tire, Xander."
"Yeah, but what are the chances that Shaw left any air in THAT one?" Xander asks her.
Amy and Cordy stare at him, then each other. The two women then express their feelings on the matter.
"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!"
The Bronze
Sunnydale, California
Shaw walks into the Bronze and takes off her coat. Seeing Jacob near the bar, she slowly walks over, taking care not to trip in her heels.
<Goddess please let my elven genes take over,> she silently pleads to Mielikki. She walks up and quietly says, "Jacob?"
Jacob turns around and stares at the young woman standing before him. Instead of whistling or making what some would consider rude gestures, even in approval, he simply says, "Shaw, you look nice."
Shaw blushes a bit, but says, "You are too kind."
"Actually, I'm considered somewhat of a master of understatement, but I truly mean it," he tells her.
He looks at Shaw's white dress and thin turtleneck sweater she is wearing, the sweater’s green color matching tights and heels. He also sees that the tights and heels must be fresh off the counter, and he greatly appreciates that she obviously went to a great deal of trouble to look this way.
He then looks at the simplicity with which she arranges her hair and asks, "Might I see how you've managed to contain such a fine amount of hair?"
Shaw is embarrassed by the attention, but slowly turns so that Jacob can see the antique clasp that she's wearing.
Now Jacob does whistle in appreciation, but Shaw likes it since it's about her taste rather than her figure.
"Eighteenth century," he says, looking at the filigree worked into the design of the clasp.
"Seventeenth," Shaw quickly counters. She quickly kicks herself over her correction. She turns back to Jacob and says, "I apologize, Jacob. I did not mean to be so rude."
"No, it's all right," Jacob kindly says. He reaches up to stroke her cheek, but stops when he thinks it might be too forward for her. Instead, he respectfully says, "You have most excellent taste in accessories, Shaw."
"It helps that I have cousins with experience in the antiques business," Shaw offers to downplay her own training in the antiques field.
"Well, then they have excellent taste in enhancing the natural beauty of their cousin," Jacob counters. "But I insist you call me Jack. Please."
Feeling her cheekbones turning blue from embarrassment, but wanting the date to go well because she does like this man so far, Shaw manages to look him in the eyes.
"Very well, Jack," the half-elf says. "Shall we proceed to the Boardwalk?"
"Of course," he agrees. "I hope you don't using my transportation, unless you’d rather walk?"
Quickly wondering what the walk to the Boardwalk will do to her feet, Shaw accepts his offer.
"I would like that," she says.
Jacob stands up and extends his elbow in a gentlemanly manner. Knowing that it's considered a sign of consideration, Shaw wraps her left arm around his elbow, despite her normal independent nature.
With that, Jacob and Shaw walk out of the Bronze, Shaw's only concern being what will happen if Amy finds them before the night is over.
<She told me she would not tag along, so she has no complaint,> Shaw reasons to herself. <Besides, as I told Willow; they may be setting me up, but it will be MY choice how the set up goes.>
Setting course for the Boardwalk and the Pacific coast, Shaw and Jacob casually walk out of the Bronze.
Sunnydale Boardwalk
Sunnydale, California
Shaw and Jacob take a slow, leisurely pace to the Boardwalk, talking about the sites in Sunnydale. They walk along the sidewalk leading to the Boardwalk, ignoring the noise and screams from the rides and other attractions as Shaw tells him of what things to do he can find in this town. While not many, Shaw does inform him about such normal features such as the Bronze, the Mall, and the beach, but she also tells him about her favorite places, Weatherly and Hammersmith Park.
Jacob looks at her in surprise. "You prefer the parks to the Mall? That's hardly the behavior for a teenaged woman."
Shaw glances at him and says, "Jack, I may be an Army brat, and a teenager, but I am a daughter of the Highlands, and also a woman who will always prefer nature to the noise of large metropolitan areas. Sunnydale's population was hard enough to get used to. I will not even mention New York."
"You've been to New York?" Jacob asks with surprise.
Shaw nods. "I passed through the city on my way here. When I arrived at the airport, I took ground transportation the rest of the way here."
Jacob smiles at this. "Tell me," he asks, "What do you think of America?"
"If you mean the country, there is so much beauty here that most people take for granted," Shaw tells him. She smiles at some of the memories. "For example, consider Pennsylvania. From my perspective, other than the cities and homes, that state seems to be nothing but tree-covered hills and mountains. I daresay that it is close to the most beautiful country I have ever laid eyes upon."
"Any others?" Jacob asks her as he looks at her wistful eyes.
"I mentioned watching the sun set over the ocean," she reminds him. "Another beautiful sight is watching the sunrise as it colors the mountains of the Rockies. You can see so many shades of pink and gold just by watching the mountain. You need not watch the sun itself."
Jacob drinks in the passion with which Shaw speaks of nature, and asks, "And the people?"
"They are still taking some getting used to," Shaw laughs. "Of course, my cousin and other friends take great pleasure in teaching me what they call 'pop culture.' They see it as an addition to my education."
"How are your 'lessons' progressing?" Jacob asks with a smile.
"I once used a wooden kendo stick to imitate Zorro during a sparring match," Shaw admits with a chuckle. "Of course, Xander eventually returned the favor."
Jacob says, "As is only right, after showing off like that."
Shaw thinks about that before saying, "He called it learning my lessons too well."
Jacob laughs at her comeback, putting his hand to his mouth to cover his smile. After regaining control of himself, he says, "I can see your point. Tell me, where have you been in your travels?"
Shaw's smile dies a bit and Jacob picks up on it.
"I didn't mean to pry," he tells her.
"No, it is all right, Jack," Shaw sighs. "It is just that many times it seemed my travels would never end, but now I have a home here and I am happy. But, some of the memories are painful."
"Why?" Jacob softly asks.
Shaw surprises herself by telling him. "I told you about my father. He was more than a soldier; he was a warrior, and a leader, a Lieutenant. My mother died when I was only two, and I spent much time traveling as my father's duties dictated. As a result, I hardly know as much about my father as I should."
"I see. Was he killed in combat?"
Shaw nods slightly. The ranger says, "In Africa. At the time, he had already decided that I should be with my grandparents, as grandfather had retired from the SAS."
Jacob stares in surprise. "Your grandfather?"
"Yes, he was a master sergeant," Shaw replies. When Jacob starts chuckling at her, she arches an eyebrow. "Why do you find that so amusing?"
"Well, it does explain a lot of the dichotomy of your nature," the Englishman says through his wide smile.
Shaw stops walking and folds her arms. She glares at him and says, "Jacob, I adored my grandparents. One might I say worshipped them. I do not appreciate jokes about them. It is not polite to make humor on the departed."
Jacob's face goes pale at the thought of offending Shaw. He says, "Shaw, I meant no offense! I meant that the different ranks your father and grandfather held explain much about you."
Still not amused, Shaw orders him, "Explain."
"As an officer, your father would have been responsible for his subordinates," Jacob explains. "And I'm sure you've heard the term, 'an officer and a gentleman.' I see that part in your upbringing, the formality, the politeness, and your respect for others. At the same time, your grandfather was a noncommissioned officer. He surely had a more, shall we say, 'personal' role with his subordinates. He was responsible for hands on training, and he surely knew how to put his desires known in, shall we say, colorful terms?"
Knowing what he means by colorful, Shaw blushes. "When I lose my temper, I have been told that I could make a Navy SEAL blush."
"Who said that?" Jacob asks with a crooked grin.
"My martial arts instructor," Shaw tells him. Returning his smile, she adds, "He is a former Green Beret."
Jacob looks at her with even greater respect. "How good are you at martial arts?"
Shaw shrugs and says, "We do not hold formal ranks in our group, but my instructor estimates my skill level at karate and judo at brown belt level, slightly lower in tae kwan do."
"You are good, then," her date observes. "I've taken fencing in my time, but I'm sure you're much better at such matters than I. Tell me, what does your cousin think of your taking such classes?"
Shaw shrugs. "Amy. . has some training," she says hesitantly. "It is one of the ways we spend time together."
Jacob looks at her in surprise. "Don’t you live with her?"
Shaw laughs under her breath and tells him, "Oh, no! Jacob, the story about our relationship is stranger than fiction."
"Try me," Jacob says with a grin. "I’ve heard some strange things in my time."
Shaw says, "Do not say I did not warn you." When he raises an eyebrow, the ranger sighs. "Very well. I came to Sunnydale to attend high school. I live with my guardian, Father Ulric. . ."
"Your guardian is a priest?" Jacob asks in shock. He recovers and smiles at her. "I come from a strict upbringing myself. Is the good Father Catholic?"
"Yes, Jacob. I myself am very religious," Shaw assures him. "As for Amy, we met within two weeks of the beginning of the school year. We discussed our ancestral backgrounds, and learned that we shared some of the same common ancestors, around one hundred years ago."
"When your cousin’s ancestor immigrated to America," Jacob reasons, thinking of the logical answer.
"No, when MY ancestor immigrated to Scotland," Shaw counters. Jacob’s eyes widen a bit, and Shaw smiles even more. "My twice-great grandmother was an American, descended from Irish and Scottish stock, who returned to her ancestral homeland."
"That does sound a bit harder to believe," the Englishman tells her.
"We checked the birth records in both nations, Jack," Shaw replies easily. She then adds, "They cannot both be wrong. And DNA does not lie. Immigration handled that test, and the results led to them granting me permanent residence here." She pauses and says in a soft voice, "You cannot imagine how important having family again is to me."
Jacob nods his head in agreement. "Perhaps not. But your story is amazing."
Shaw looks at him, a strange look in her eyes. "Jacob. . ."
"Jack," he counters.
"Jack," the half-elf sighs, still not sure why she’s so open with someone she barely knows. "Why are you asking me these things?"
"Because I've met more than a few women in my years, but never one who seems to have so many facets to her being," Jacob tells her with no sign of deceit. "Consider what I do know about you; you're a military brat, you're a Highland lass without a Highland accent, you are a fighter, a musician, a lover of literature, and you've a blend of passion, experience and innocence that I've never encountered before. And now, I find out you have a spiritual side as well. It's intriguing, to say the very least, Shaw."
Shaw's breath catches. She softly says, "I am hardly innocent, Jacob."
"I see it differently, Shaw," he tells her. "How are you not innocent?"
Shaw looks the ground rather than Jacob. "For one thing, my grandparents were murdered. I tried to. . . I attempted to *kill* the person who killed them, but I was unsuccessful. All of my training, all of my experience, as you call it, amounted to too little. And it took me several years to get over the failure, as well as the loss, and the anger. In that, my innocence was lost, Jacob."
"I see," Jacob apologizes. He walks up to her, and lifts her chin so that she can see his eyes. "But in a way, you are innocent, Shaw. Your feminine side is innocent. You haven't allowed yourself to truly be a young woman, and I can see it starting to open up. And I might sound as if I'm being kind, but I'm not. I'm trying to be honest when I say that this femininity that you're so unfamiliar with, and that unfamiliarity itself, is much like innocence. And I find it very refreshing."
Shaw listens to him, feeling her face flush as he goes on. She finally lowers her head, and he chuckles.
"You see, you're not comfortable or familiar with being complimented for your beauty or spirit. It's part of the charm I find in you," he tells her. "But I don't wish to bring up painful memories for you. Let's move on, both in topic and on foot."
Shaw nods quietly and the two start to walk again.
"So, which ride do you want to go on first?"
Shaw looks at him, not understanding. "What?"
"I wanted to know which ride you wanted to go on," he says once again. "You have been here before, haven't you?"
"A couple of times," Shaw admits. She then sheepishly says, "I have not been on the rides, though. There seemed little point in doing such things."
Jacob stares at her. "You've never ridden on a Ferris Wheel? Or a roller coaster?"
Shaw shakes her head. "It seems pointless. Why go on a ride that ends mere moments later."
"For the thrill, Shaw," Jacob firmly says. His smile grows and he tells the young woman, "Shaw, it's for enjoyment. The thrill of moving about at such speeds, letting yourself fly about on a roller coaster, or the fast random spins of other rides, it's about letting yourself go."
"There seems to be an element of risk involved," Shaw tells him. "For such a short period of 'letting yourself go,' it seems that the potential gains do not outweigh the risks."
"Have your friends ever explained that this is part of the attraction?" Jacob asks. When Shaw shakes her head in surprise, he sighs. "I thought not. Shaw, yes, there is some risk involved, but these machines are as safe as they can be made. There are numerous elements of security involved for the riders. Also, as I said, the risk is part of the thrill. Yes, you're giving up some of your control over your own fate. But as you said, it's only for a short time. And to allow yourself to go with such wild abandon can allow you to express yourself, and whether or not you're having fun. Also, despite the short amount of time, it shows that you're willing to allow yourself to take risks, however small the risk is. Many times, the fact that the rides are short is a source of irritation to the riders, since they want to spend more time on them. Mostly, it's to share the experience of taking risks with their dates or romantic partners. It's a way to bond by putting both your fates in the hands of another. Sometimes, people need to let someone hold their fates in their hands so they can forget about having control every second. An experience of giving yourself to someone else, if you will."
Shaw listens to his explanation and truly considers, for the first time, the disappointment she has seen before in her friends' eyes when she declines to join any of them on the rides. She realizes that this is part of the bonding process she's undergone since joining the team, and decides, then and there, that she will join them the next time. But, it will not be her first time on them.
Shaw looks around, eyeing the various rides. Still somewhat reluctant, Shaw asks Jacob, "Jack, which one would you suggest then? For someone who has never thought of your reasons to partake in such a ride."
"Oh, let's throw you in the deep end of the pool, so to speak," the man cheerfully offers the game young woman. "The roller coaster."
Shaw looks at the ride, with its loops and rises and falls, and the screaming people. She feels a cold lump in her stomach.
"If this is enjoyable, why are the people screaming?"
Jacob smiles at her naïveté. "Shaw, listen to their screams. Are those the screams of people who are terrified?"
Shaw listens for a few seconds, not wanting to let her date know that she's heard the screams of terrified people too many times to suit her taste. But, the experience allows her to tell the difference between fear, and the enjoyment these people are feeling.
"No, they are not," Shaw says with a wan smile. "I suppose we will wait until we are done to have dinner?"
Jacob laughs and says, "I wouldn't want to add various odd colors to your coat and dress, so yes. We'll wait until the rides are done. Unless you want to redecorate your wardrobe."
Shaw breaks out into laughter over that image, not her typical chuckles that she normally shares with her friends, but the true laughter of a woman enjoying herself. She manages to keep her eyes from tearing up, but it's an effort.
"You have a beautiful laugh," Jacob says in admiration. "You must have a beautiful singing voice, too."
Shaw stops laughing, and she's shakes her head in denial. "Only if you think a female cat in heat is beautiful."
Jacob holds his hand over his heart in faux shock. "What?!? A limitation from the maiden?" he exclaims with humor dancing in his eyes. "Say it is not so!"
"It is so," Shaw says, her cheeks growing deep blue as she can feel the amusement other park goers are getting over her embarrassment. "That is why I stick to music."
"I see," Jacob laughs. Seconds later, Shaw joins in. After they cease, he holds out his hand and goes into a short bow. "But enough of that. My dear, shall we ascend to the ride?"
Shaw smiles and says, "After you, Jacob. I will not go through this alone."
Shaw and Jacob take one ride on the roller coaster, and Shaw sees, for the first time, that she has indeed been missing out on the attractions. She feels the wind sending her hair flying, and the feeling of freedom she feels at the speed, even greater than that of riding, make her feel exhilarated for the first time in a long time.
When the ride ends, Jacob allows Shaw to talk him into going on a second time. This time, he makes her sit with him in the front row, and this time she is smiling as widely as she ever has. When the second round ends, they disembark from the coaster. Shaw nearly stumbles, but rather than be embarrassed by her lack of grace, she and Jack share a laugh at the unfamiliar buzz and dizziness brought on by the ride.
Jacob guides her along until she regains her sense of balance, then asks her, "Does this ride still seem like it has little point to it?"
"No," Shaw says with a small smile. "It was very fun. And confusing."
"Why?" Jacob asks.
Shaw pauses, trying to seek out an understandable answer. "Jacob, part of me was feeling the fear of going on the ride, to move in such ways on those tracks. But also, the feeling of adrenaline overrode that fear, and I saw how much fun it can be to be racing at those speeds, and the unexpected turns even though you know they are there."
"In other words," Jacob smiles, "you got the point."
Shaw nods to him. She then asks, "What should we do now?"
"How about that one?" he says, pointing at what appears to be an oval bowl rising out of the ground.
"What does that one do?" she asks. She's never seen it before, so it must be new.
"I've seen them before," Jacob explains to her. "You stand against the wall, which is lined with a material which, when combined with the speed at which the ride circles, makes you 'stick' to the wall by centrifugal force. Then, to make matters interesting, the floor drops about five or ten feet into the ground, leaving you suspended in midair, only the speed of the ride and the material of the walls keeping you from falling."
Shaw listens to the explanation before saying, "Perhaps I should just take your word and not ask for explanations. It seems to ruin the mystery."
"You're catching on," Jacob laughs. Taking her hand in a gentle squeeze, he says, "Shall we?"
Shaw looks uncertain, but decides not to let caution ruin her night. The half-elf is having fun, and for one of the few times, it is on her own, apart from her teammates.
<Which is why Amy is going to be mad at me,> she thinks gleefully, not caring about Amy's wrath when next they meet. "Let us go, Jack."
"That's a girl," he says with a grin.
By the time they end their riding on several different rides, it's nearly 7:30 in the evening. Shaw is drawn into the whirlwind pace of the rides, and is reluctant to end such fun with someone she barely knows. But, as it was once said, all good things must come to an end.
"I cannot believe that my friends never forced me to go on the rides," she admits to her date. "I never would have imagined how they could allow me to miss out on what they were right about."
"That's part of it, Shaw," Jacob offers as they walk towards the edge of the Boardwalk facing the ocean. "I think that you wouldn't have enjoyed it if they had indeed forced you. They want you to experience such thrills on your own initiative. And it seems they are very knowledgeable."
"Yes, they are," Shaw says with a smile. "But we are not here to talk about them. I have experienced what you wanted me to experience, now it is time for me to return the favor."
Shaw takes Jacob's hand and leads him to the railing facing due west and nods her head for him to watch the horizon. When Jacob smiles and begins to watch the descending sun, Shaw does the same. Together, they watch as the sun falls, while its reflection rises towards the top of the water at the edge of their range of vision.
It seems to start slowly, but quickly picks up speed as the two suns close in on each other. Eventually, the two combine into what looks like an infinity symbol, then it seems as if the suns have merged into perfect equals, one sun being halfway above and below water at the same time. And, finally, the suns seem to melt into each other as they fall below (and for the reflection, above) the horizon until tomorrow.
Shaw wistfully watches the vanishing orb of light. When it fades, she quietly asks, "Is it not beautiful, Jacob?"
"Yes, it most certainly is," he says as if in a daze.
Shaw smiles at his wonder until she turns and sees that he's not looking at the sky. Instead, he's looking at her profile. Realizing what he meant in his answer, she lowers her head and blushes, leading Jacob to laugh lightly.
"Come, before it gets too late," he says, backing up from the rail. "We should get something to eat. Do you want to walk back to town for dinner, or would you like to stay here and keep it simple?"
Shaw thinks about it and smiles. "I prefer simplicity, Jack. So, let us find something here as it will allow us to stay here longer."
Part of the consideration in her answer is that the Boardwalk is, for the most part, well lit. This will allow her to keep her eyes in the visible spectrum and not force her to hide the effect of her elven blood that manifests itself at night. It's a small deception, but a necessary one.
Jacob doesn't seem to mind at all. "Very good. Shall we see what's available, then?"
"Of course," Shaw readily agrees. She then adds one caveat. "You must remember, I cannot have anything with caffeine, either soda drinks or chocolate. Other than that, I have no restrictions."
"Of course," he says, looking at the bracelet on her left wrist. He's surprised he hadn't noticed it before, but he recognizes it as a Medic Alert bracelet, something he's seen many times in his profession. "I shall keep that in mind."
As they walk, Jacob asks Shaw, "Shaw, are you enjoying yourself? Truthfully?"
Shaw looks at him evenly. "Where did you get the idea that I am not having fun?"
"There is a difference between having fun and enjoying yourself," he says, seeming nervous as to her answer.
Shaw stops walking, forcing Jacob to turn and face her. With a surprisingly gentle voice, she says, "Jacob, there is a difference, and because of tonight, I know that difference. I *am* enjoying myself in a way I have only done a few times in my life. But it is different."
"How so?" he asks with uncertain eyes.
"Are you familiar with RenFaires?" she asks. When he smiles and nods, she smiles back. "I went to one last month, on Christmas weekend. It was like. . . stepping back into a simpler time. I enjoyed myself then, because for the first time, I met much of my American family. It was the combination of the period emulated by the Faire and taking part in that emulation, the fact that it was my twelve-year-old cousins who convinced me to go so that I could bond with them, and being part of a family unit for the first time since my grandparents died that I enjoyed. But this, this date with you, is. . . simpler. I am by myself with someone, spending time with someone outside of my friends, someone who has shown me things in one night that I have been missing out on. But also, it is that you are a person whose company I enjoy, not only for the activities, but because. . . I like you, Jacob."
"Jack," he says quickly.
Shaw chuckles at his insistence. "That is another thing, Jack. You do not judge me or pry. You are willing to allow me to reveal details in my own time. Even if we were not flying around like bats whose senses had been scrambled on these rides, I would have enjoyed your company tonight, simply for the company itself."
Jacob nods and smiles at her answer. "I have enjoyed your company too, Shaw," he assures the woman. He says, "Thank you for your honesty. Now, shall we go partake of the dining facilities of this Boardwalk?"
"Of course," Shaw smiles.
Jacob leads Shaw to a concession stand, where he orders both of them a hot dog, an order of fries, and a large pretzel each. He orders a Pepsi for himself, but gets a cup of ice water for Shaw.
Jacob walks over and sets the order down at the bench that Shaw is sitting at. She's taken off her coat and is watching some children watching their parents attempting to win stuffed animals at one of the booths.
He sees what she's watching and asks, "You like children?"
"Oh, yes," Shaw nods to him. She takes the hot dog and fries he holds out to her and says, "I have always loved children, Jack. Their energy, their passion, their innocence. . ."
"Much like yourself," he says. When Shaw snorts with a smile, he tells her, "No, I mean it. You have many of those traits, Shaw. I envy the fact that you have managed to hold onto them for so long."
"What about you?" she asks, looking at the young Brit.
He smiles, but there's some sadness in it. "I'm not innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination. I've seen to much blood in my time, too much death."
"In London?" she asks.
He nods and adds, "And here in America. In the cities. That's why I have a flat here in Sunnydale. I can work in Los Angeles, but I need some place that I can get away from it. Where I can be by myself and follow my passions."
"Which are?" Shaw asks. She quickly adds with mischief, "You know some of mine, so now it is your turn."
"Medicine," he answers. She seems slightly surprised, so he tells her, "You have a love of the wonders of nature. I, on the other hand, have a love of the wonders of the human body. As people have said before, it's the most complex and amazing machine in the universe. And my passion is discovering the myriad ways that the body works. How different people can have so many different similarities, yet also the differences."
"You are a doctor?" she asks, seeing that he appears to be too young to be a physician.
"I was a medical student, thanks to the Church," Jacob tells her with a nod. "Now, I work at a hospital in Los Angeles, where I am one of the lowest men on the so-called totem pole."
Shaw searches her mind for the answer. "You are an intern."
"Yes," he says, surprised by her realization. "You know about medicine, too?"
"Hardly," Shaw admits. Sheepishly, she says, "I will confess that I do watch an occasional soap opera, which often has medical scenes in it."
"Now that's something I expect from a young woman," he says. When she cocks an eyebrow, he pleads, "Yes, I'm poking fun at you, but I myself watch some of them. A side effect of working nights. Luckily, I'm on a three-week vacation so as to handle the unpacking at my new flat here in town. I can relax, and celebrate the anniversary of my departure from London and going out into the wide, wide world."
Shaw smiles as she can read the true emotion in his voice despite the normal inflections of his speech. "I am glad that you have your passions, Jack," she tells him.
"Thank you," he graciously says.
"But tell me; how much of the wide, wide world have you seen?" she teases him.
Jacob sighs and quietly says, "Sometimes, I think too much."
Her smile dies at the sadness she senses. The half-elf reaches out and squeezes his hand. "Sometimes, I feel the same way."
"You?" he asks in surprise. He then says, "Someone as young as you are?"
"Jack, believe me when I say that I have seen a great deal of both good and evil in my time," Shaw softly answers. "I am not so naïve."
"What kinds of evil have you seen?" Jacob asks in sincere sympathy.
With a great deal of reluctance, the woman says, "Slavery of others, killers who think themselves above the law, the. . . thing that killed my grandparents."
Jacob stiffens a bit at her answer. He softly says, "Thing?"
Shaw doesn’t want to tell him the whole story, so she settles with, "He was more dangerous than you could possibly imagine, Jack."
Jacob leaves it at that. "I’ve seen my share of evil, too. Killers, war, drug dealers, prostitutes. The things they do. . ."
"Why do you call prostitutes evil?" Shaw asks him in confusion.
"Because they sell their bodies for money and tempt good men into sin," he replies with a cold voice. "Do you think differently?"
Shaw is caught off guard by the question, but honestly answers it. "Jack, I have seen what I consider to be evil. While I agree with your opinions on killers and those who deal in narcotics, prostitution is a different story."
"How can you say that?"
"I try to take people on a case-by-case basis," she answers. She looks around at the patrons and says, "One prostitute might have chosen her lifestyle, which while illegal in itself is not inherently evil. Another prostitute might have been trapped into the life against her will and not have any way to escape it, no matter how much she tries. I think it depends on the person. And, as I said, I have seen true evil in my time."
Jacob simply says, "Perhaps it’s a matter of opinion, then. I suppose we can’t agree on everything, eh?"
Shaw says, "I would never expect to agree with somebody on everything we talk about, Jacob. Perhaps it is the dichotomy of my nature."
Jacob starts and looks at her, seeing the smile tugging at her lips. He simply nods and says, "Perhaps it is."
The couple eats their improvised dinner, then disposes of the resulting garbage. As Shaw prepares to put her coat back on, Jack grasps it.
"Please, wait," he requests. When she cocks her head in confusion, he says, "Let me take in one last image of you like this, of how you look tonight. No coat, no food, just a lovely young woman I'm glad to have had the chance to get to know."
Shaw seems confused, but she is glad to grant his request. She sets the coat down and just stands there, looking at him.
Jacob takes in her face, the contrast of night-colored hair and cloud-colored skin, with the compromise of her hazel eyes, and the way her clothes echo those contrasts of light and dark. But mostly, he watches her eyes, with the many layers that those who didn't know what to look for might miss at first glance, or even a second. Finally, he says, "Thank you, Shaw."
Shaw gives him a demure smile out of embarrassment at his attention. "You are welcome, Jack."
"Here, let me help," he says as he picks up her coat. He slips it on, then waits as she buttons it up.
The two start to walk as many of the patrons of the Boardwalk begin to head home somewhat early on a Saturday night. Some obviously want to head to bed early, to spend time with their loved ones or to get sleep before heading to religious services in the morning. As they cross the end of the Boardwalk and onto a sidewalk near the terminal point of the stands, Jack looks around and sees that the two of them are completely by themselves in this area of the beach.
"Shaw, my flat is nearby," he tells her. "It is convenient for us. Would you like to stop there for a nightcap?"
Shaw stiffens a bit at his offer. She feels a conflict; she likes Jacob and hopes to see him again, but she feels a bit of reluctance to go to his home without somebody, mainly Ulric or Amy, knowing that she's doing so. Not wanting the date to end on a bad note, she reluctantly says, "I do not think so, Jack. I am sorry."
With a sigh of sadness, Jacob says, "I'm sorry as well, Shaw."
She turns to see what's wrong with her date, and sees him pull out what appears to be a small knife. She recognizes it as a surgeon's scalpel.
"Jack, what is that for?" she demands of him.
He looks sorrowful as he says, "I wanted you to come to my flat of your own will, but since that's not possible, I truly regret doing it this way."
Shaw begins to back up from him hastily, attempting to put some room between her and Jacob. Whereas most women confronted with such a situation would turn to run, Shaw isn't stupid enough to turn her back on her date-turned-assailant. She's attempting to gain room to take up a fighting stance before he can strike.
However, the women who would turn and run wouldn't have to deal with unfamiliar footwear. Shaw steps back on her right foot, as she turns sideways to take her stance. However, with the heel rather than a flat sole, she stumbles and begins to fall backward. She hears a crack as she descends, but takes comfort that it's her shoe and not an ankle.
Instincts take over and Shaw quickly rolls backward, using the momentum of her fall to come back up into her stance. She focuses her attention on Jacob, who pulls out a gun of some sort. Her surprise robs her of the split second it would take her to react, and enables Jacob to pull the trigger.
A small dart shoots into Shaw's neck, barely piercing the skin. After the brief stinging sensation, Shaw's relief is palpable as she sees it's not a serious wound.
<Great. The Earth version of a drow crossbow.> she wryly thinks. <But not as effective.>
Shaw starts to move forward, but something slows her down. Her steps aren't as sure, and she feels a wave of dizziness coming over her. She quickly realizes she's been poisoned or drugged. She opens her mouth to cast a spell to neutralize the poison, but she's too late. She realizes that Jacob's shot was expertly placed, nicking her jugular vein, which spreads the drug to her brain that much faster.
Shaw feels herself begin to fall, but to her surprise she sees Jacob drop the gun and scalpel to rush forward to catch her before she hits the ground. He gently guides her downward, her head spinning as she fades into unconsciousness. He wraps his arms around her torso, not only to keep her from falling, but also to keep her from struggling as she feels her muscles begin to lose their tenseness. Slowly, her muscles become relaxed and unable to respond to her mental commands.
Jacob slowly lowers himself to his knees, keeping Shaw from jerking as the drug takes effect. Her mouth tries to speak, but no words come out; it's an effect of the drug to delay impulses from the brain in addition to its main purpose as a quick-acting muscle depressant. Jacob slowly brushes Shaw's hair out of her face, and sees her bleary, confused eyes looking at him.
"It's all right, my dear," he says tenderly, in the same gentlemanly voice he's always used. "You allowed me to know of your passions, now it is my turn to show you mine. And you should be honored, for you will the first woman other than a whore who is told my story before I demonstrate it to you."
Shaw tries to fight, but her muscles are completely relaxed and unable to coordinate. The twin effects of the drug have made her completely limp and unable to act. She feels Jacob tenderly stroking her chin, a look of affection for her spirit in his eyes. She once again tries to speak, but he touches his finger to her lips.
"Shhhhhh. All in good time, Shaw," he whispers, his voice sounding like a soft wind to Shaw's confused senses. "Shhhhh. Sleep, my dear. Just let go and sleep."
Unable to resist any further, Shaw falls into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Jacob Devonshire's Flat
Near the Sunnydale Boardwalk
Sunnydale, California
Awareness slowly returns to Shaw as she attempts to fight off the drugs in her system. Her senses don't want to respond and it takes a lot of sheer willpower to shake off even part of her drowsiness. She allows herself to reach a certain level of awareness before trying to go further, as an attempt at trying to do everything at once will likely fail, leaving her too exhausted to try again, or even make her succumb to sleep a second time, a time that might be her last.
Still feeling sleepy and sluggish, Shaw still knows that she can at least stay awake while she tries to gather information on her predicament. To her dismay, it quickly becomes clear that her situation is not good.
She tries to move her arms, but the option isn't available. Neither is moving her legs. In fact, she can barely feel her limbs; she can tell that something is touching them, but her sense of touch can't pick up anything else. She tries again to move her arms, but to no avail; she slowly figures out that her arms are bound to her sides, but not with rope. Her legs are similarly bound together, but she succeeds in bending them a bit at the knees. As she moves, she feels the surface she's on moving in reaction to her movements. Oddly enough, the uneven bouncing reminds her of traveling over water.
<A. . . waterbed,> she concludes. Against her will, she's forced to admit it's a good deterrent to movement. <No. . . firm surface. . . for me to push against.>
She bends her knees, but even that movement is limited. She sets her feet on the bed, arches her back, and pushes. As soon as her head clears six inches, the fog in her mind explodes into a full-blown wave of dizziness. Unable to stop herself, Shaw falls back, her head crashing onto the pillow.
<Pillow?> she asks silently. <What in. . . Mielikki's name. . . is going on here? He drugs me, kidnaps me, binds me. . . however he has done it, but rather than. . . a dungeon. . . he lays me on a waterbed?>
Again, Shaw's reminded of the ingenious use of the bed as she sloshes around when attempting to move. She not only has to fight the drugs that delay her thoughts and actions, but also the relaxing motion of the bed that hinders her attempts to move as well as increasing her drowsiness. Shaw tries once again to swing herself up, but again she fails.
She gives up that idea, sliding her feet back, leaving her prone once again. Another realization; her shoes are gone, but her feet aren't bound like the rest of her body.
<If I could stand. . .> Shaw quickly discounts the idea; she realizes some type of mask, which only adds to her disorientation, has blindfolded her. She slowly opens her eyes, but her vision is blocked.
Having no physical option immediately open to her, Shaw considers mystical options. But upon feeling the tape gag over her mouth, she despairs of that.
A rising fear, her claustrophobic problem, tries to manifest itself, but her drugged state is a benefit in this case, as it keeps all of her mental faculties somewhat blurred.
<He wants me. . . alive, for whatever reason,> she drowsily thinks. <So. . . I have a chance.>
Shaw decides to attempt to move again, but her still dulled senses, as well as the amorphous surface she lies on, simply make it impossible.
"You shouldn't exert yourself, Shaw," Jacob's gentle voice says from outside the darkness of Shaw's world. "The drug will wear of fairly soon, but you're still virtually immobile and unable to take advantage of what little movement you do have. You'll only exhaust yourself, so please try to relax."
When Shaw snarls something quietly under her gag, Jacob sighs. "I'm going to remove the gag. You don't seem the type to scream in terror, so I'll ask you instead to keep your language somewhat reasonable. Then I'll remove the night mask. I do advise you to open your eyes slowly, so that they can adjust to the light."
Shaw's helpless to do anything to prevent it, so she just waits until she feels Jacob gripping one end of the tape that covers her mouth.
"This may sting a little," he advises in that honey-laden British voice. He slowly removes the tape, which does sting as it separates from Shaw's face, but she doesn't react. Jacob smiles approvingly and says, "Very good."
Shaw tries to mumble something, but it's unintelligible. She jerks as Jacob gently strokes her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Relax, my dear," Jacob says softly. He reaches towards Shaw's forehead and slowly slides her improvised blindfold off of her head. "Open your eyes, but do it slowly."
Despite her furor, Shaw does as she's bid, slowly blinking several times. She looks at her captor with bleary, unfocused eyes, an indication that she's still drugged. She manages to croak, "Why?"
Jacob gently strokes Shaw's hair. He smiles and says, "In a bit. But you need to relax, because---"
"Can't. . . feel. . . arms," the weary half-elf mumbles.
"Ah. It's partially the drug, my dear. A muscle depressant, but it will wear off in a short while," Jacob promises. "But mostly, it's the bandages."
Shaw focuses a bit on the last word. "Bandages?" she asks with blurred worry.
Jacob sits on the edge of the bed, reaching towards Shaw, who unsuccessfully tries to scoot away. Jacob reaches under Shaw's shoulders and gently raises her torso to show her what he's talking about.
"You aren't injured, Shaw," Jacob promises as he supports Shaw's upper body. "But the bandages are the cause of most of your confusion."
Shaw tries to focus her vision on what she sees, but her foggy mind isn't quite able to assimilate what her eyes are peering at. Virtually her entire body, from the tops of her arms and chest, to below her ankles, is wrapped in flesh-colored bandages. The only skin not covered with the multiple layers of wrapping are the very tops of her arms, shoulders, neck, head, and her feet. She tries to budge any part of her cocooned body, but her muscles barely respond to her futile attempts.
Shaw looks at Jacob in confusion, trying to comprehend this type of restraint. "Let me go," the elf says in a dry whisper.
Jacob knows it's not a plea, but a demand. Jacob says, "No, if you are to escape, it will be your doing, my dear. There are several reasons why I used the Ace bandages. First, rope can burn and cause abrasions, not to mention that it can be broken. Ace bandages have several advantages; they can breathe, which means they allow air to pass through them; they're elastic, which allows you to struggle all you want, but they'll just move with you and not give you any progress; also, as a medical professional, I can get all I need. As small as you are, I didn't need as much as I anticipated. As for the sensory deprivation you're experiencing, it's from how I bound you. I wrapped your arms and legs separately. . ."
"You bastard. . ." Shaw starts, her tired eyes flaring a bit in anger.
Realizing what she's about to accuse him of, Jacob's face becomes grim. He icily tells her, "Shaw, I only moved your dress to the middle of your thighs, an NO higher. So, unlike the whores that you defended, I will not be accused of doing anything voyeuristic. Look at yourself, and you will see that you are still *fully* dressed. Yes, I removed your coat and jewelry, for separate reasons. Your shoes, however, were a lost cause. But to clear your anger, you are completely dressed. Now, after wrapping your arms and legs, I bound your arms to your sides from your shoulders to your wrists. Then I put the excess folds of your dress in between your legs to provide some cushioning between your knees and used a folded towel to keep your ankles from painfully rubbing against each other. Then I wrapped your legs together. Then, I began the final step, starting at your shoulders and wrapping downward, going slowly to use as much wrapping as was needed to keep you as immobilized as possible when finished."
Shaw struggles weakly in Jacob's grasp and feels some of her strength returning, but not enough. She looks into his eyes and softly asks, "Why this?"
Jacob slowly lowers Shaw back onto the bed. He strokes her hair as she watches him, still groggy. "Quite simply, if I had used the standard leather wrist restraints and two straps across your body, I don't doubt you'd have broken out in practically no time at all. I didn't do this to be cruel, Shaw, but out of a healthy respect for your abilities. I did it to prevent your early escape and, from what I know about you, a bloody fight you might well emerge victorious from." He smiles gently and tells Shaw, "I want you to relax, so that I can show you what you will be a part of. But. . ."
Shaw weakly growls, "Bound like this, you son of a whore?"
Jacob gives her a hard look and tells her, "If you wish to be angry with me, Shaw, I expect it. But as you yourself said, do not speak ill of the departed. Unlike a true whore, my mother was a good woman."
Shaw surprises herself and Jacob by nodding weakly.
Jacob loses his anger and regretfully says, "I apologize, but I will explain later. Now. . ."
Shaw starts to struggle again. She raises her torso once more, but falls back, moaning at the dizziness she still feels.
Jacob watches her bound form helplessly rock on his waterbed and realizes that Shaw will continue to struggle until she either exhausts her energy or passes out once again. He walks to the foot of the bed and slowly sits down on the end. He reaches over and slowly lifts Shaw's legs by the ankles. The added weight and movement alarm Shaw, who tries to kick herself loose of Jacob's grip. Jacob simply holds her, gently yet firmly, until the exertion finally stops.
"Let. . . go," the young woman demands, breathing hard from her efforts and unable to put any emotion into the words.
Jacob shakes his head, despite that fact her eyes are closed. "Shaw, I want you to relax, because if you struggle when I carry you, you'll likely make me drop you accidentally. I don't want you to be hurt. Now, I'm going to help you become relaxed, so please don't struggle or try to kick me."
Jacob doesn't wait for her to respond. He lays her feet across his lap and begins to massage them. When his thumbs touch Shaw's soles, the half-elf yelps lightly and jerks involuntarily. With the weakness caused by the drug, Jacob's gentle grip is more than able to keep her feet in his hands. The Englishman works on both feet to start, spending almost ten minutes working various nerves in her feet using techniques he's learned in his long life.
Then, he shifts himself, sitting Indian style on the waterbed and taking Shaw's left foot in both hands. Again, when both of his thumbs start on the bottom of her foot, she futilely tries to escape his touch. Jacob just smiles at her reaction, concentrating on maintaining his relaxation techniques. As he works on her massage, he can feel Shaw's body beginning to lose its tension. This is one benefit of her sensory disorientation he didn't mention; since the majority of her sense of touch is dulled or neutralized, any sensory input she *does* receive is intensified. So while the nerves in her arms and legs aren't picking up anything because of the multiple layers of bandages, her other nerves are receiving magnified signals through the gentle manipulations of Jacob's fingers.
Shaw tries to summon the energy to fight him, but despite the fading effects of the drugs, the combined immobility, lack of focus, and the effects of Jacob's excellent massaging skills are too much for her to overcome. She loses her battle to resist, and surrenders herself to what Jacob is doing to her body using nothing more than two hands, her mind starting to drift off as her body slowly becomes completely relaxed.
Jacob spends the same ten-minute span on Shaw's left foot, then moves to the right. This time, when he lightly grips the bound woman's digit, she doesn't react other than some minimal movement of her head while it rests on the pillow. He does a complete circuit of the foot, but Shaw doesn't react other than to let out an occasional dull "mmmm." After the man finishes with her foot, he decides to give her an additional twenty minutes on both feet at once to give her the most thorough foot massage he's ever given a woman, and to make sure she'll not struggle when he carries her into the other room. He gently and methodically prods and massages every nerve in her foot, starting at the toes, then moving downward to the balls, the arches, her soles and finally her heels.
When he finally finishes his work, Jacob can tell that Shaw is completely relaxed; in fact, she's all but asleep on his bed once again. He moves off the bed as quietly as he can, and gently lifts the sleepy priestess and cradles her light body in his arms. In reaction, Shaw only murmurs something under her breath. He quickly but quietly carries her towards his special room.
Jacob walks into his large room, carrying the mummified Slayerette towards a specially modified hospital gurney. He gently lays her down on the gurney, which contains a surprising number of modifications. He moves slides on both sides and quickly prepares for Shaw to come to full alertness. Taking the first strap, he draws it over Shaw's chest.
Jacob has two sets of restraining straps on this gurney; the first is a set of four sewn into the gurney itself, made from the same elastic material as the Ace bandages enshrouding his captive. The difference is that these straps are six inches wide, which connect through strong plastic buckles that allow the doctor to tighten each strap until it leaves no room or gap between the strap and the part of the body being restrained. The purpose of these straps is to keep the captive party from bucking upward in an attempt to break the standard industrial gurney straps.
Jacob efficiently straps the restraints across Shaw's chest and hips, tightening them so that they're completely snug but not capable of causing her any pain. He then moves to the lower portion of her body.
By the time Shaw realizes she's no longer on the waterbed, it's too late for her to take advantage of the change. She focuses as much as she can, slowly lifting her head to observe what her captor is doing to her.
Jacob senses her awareness, but remains silent as he quickly tightens the strap around Shaw's knees. With three straps fastened, Shaw's arms are now doubly pinned at her biceps and wrists, while her legs are effectively unable to move since her knees are now bound to the table.
"Jacob, what are. . you doing?" Shaw asks as she tries to test the restraints while attempting to fight off another wave of dizziness.
Jacob allows her to make the attempt, then moves to the strap at her ankles. He tells the girl, "I'll explain in good time, my dear."
Shaw wiggles in a vain try at loosening her bonds, but simply lowers her head as Jacob ties her ankles to the gurney. She hears his footsteps coming towards her head, so she looks at him. "Why this much effort, Jacob? Tell me now."
Jacob smiles at her order. "I will tell you, Shaw, that I'm glad your passion if unaffected. Most would be pleading or crying at this point."
"Stop. . . complimenting me and. . . tell me why. . . you are doing this," Shaw snaps at him.
With a sigh at her attitude, Jacob says, "It's quite simple, Shaw. You are no doubt trying to think of a way to escape, and I must do everything in my power to prevent that. In a sense, it's much like our roller coaster ride." Shaw starts to comment, but Jacob places a single finger across her lips. "Shaw," he says, "right now, your fate is in my hands. But, at the same time, by bringing you here, my fate is in your hands should you escape. A small risk, but a risk just the same. As you must do everything in your power to escape your predicament, I must do everything to keep you bound. Thus, the efforts I am taking to eliminate any chance you have at freedom, which would lead to me losing mine, and thus the failure of a quest I undertook a long time ago. But now I need to finish the process."
Shaw can do nothing as Jacob takes a strap from the side of the gurney and draws the pieces across the middle of Shaw's torso. He puts one strap through the buckle and pulls it tight. He then does the same with the second strap, which lies across Shaw's calves.
Shaw is now bound by three stages of restraining methods and is only capable of moving her head and feet. She acidly asks, "Is this the point at which I mention the term, 'overkill?'"
Jacob laughs at her comment. He shakes his head in amusement before he gives Shaw a kind gaze. "You wanted to know what this is about, my dear. Now, I will give you your answer. It may sound insane to you, but I assure you I am quite sane."
"That might be. . . debatable at this point," Shaw dryly mumbles.
A crooked smile crosses Jacob's face. "I can see your point of view, Shaw. But, to my story. I was born in Bristol in 1649, moving to London with my parents when I was nine. After my schooling, I entered college to study medicine. But, in 1671, something happened. I freely admit I was a young man, foolish and full of hormonal energy. One night, I paid for the services of a prostitute, but something went wrong. The woman had a rather intoxicated employer who decided I needed neither my purse nor my life. He stabbed me fifteen times."
Shaw's eyes widen in understanding. "You are an Immortal." When his eyebrows widen in surprise, she quickly tells him, "I know the MacLeods. Connor and Duncan."
"How do you know them?" Jacob asks, forgetting his own story.
Shaw glares at him. "Hunting. . . vampires every night leaves your mind. . somewhat receptive to new ideas."
"Agreed, my dear," Jacob admits. "But don't think I waste my time with the Game, Shaw. I have been Immortal for over 320 years, and in that time I have taken only six heads, ALL in self-defense. I could care less about any Prize." Having said that, Jacob returns to his story. "Anyhow, once I regained my senses after awakening in the street, I grabbed my sword and promptly killed the pimp and his entire stable. Five whores died that night. Unfortunately for me, the lorries failed to see my point of view; I could hardly tell them I'd come back from the dead. So, I was forced to leave England. One thing about my father helped me in that regard; he was not only a fan of Shakespeare, but also of the classic Greek and Roman works. But to fully appreciate them, he made our family read them in the original language. So, having a command of both Greek and Latin, I migrated to Athens."
"What does. . this have to do. . with kidnapping me?" Shaw asks, not understanding.
"I enacted a tradition of sorts on the anniversary of my first death," Jacob answers. "I would search out five women, prostitutes or harlots, and ‘refine’ my surgical skills on them. When I finished the celebration, I would leave the bodies for the authorities to find. Thus the thrill. Shaw, think about it; for three weeks a year, I put their fate in my hands. After the anniversary of my Immortality, I put my fate in the hands of those women and, through their bodies, law enforcement agencies the world over. It's the thrill of the chase, Shaw; I live my life as a doctor the rest of the year, wondering if the hunters will win the chase. During the last century in London, I was living as a reverend named Barnett, and I actually gained some fame after giving police clues aid their case, as well as bring attention to my cause, wiping prostitution from the face of the Earth. Alas, they never found me. Instead, they began calling me the Ripper."
"You are. . . a butcher, Jacob," Shaw accuses in her whisper.
Jacob shakes his head sadly. "No, my dear. On more than one occasion, I've actually saved one of my prospective subjects from another assailant. In every case, I let her go as Fate told me it wasn't her time. But as for my subjects, I do everything I can to make them comfortable despite their evil. If they manage to find a way out, that's part of letting my fate rest in their hands."
Shaw can't believe what she's hearing. As she fights to lower her delayed reactions, she asks, "And has anyone. . . ever. . found a way out?"
"No, but you would have changed that had I not taken these excessive measures with you," the doctor says with a touch of pride. "Shaw, I do not perform surgery on conscious subjects, nor do I force those who are yet to be operated on to watch. Ten hours before I begin operating, I sedate all five of my subjects. None have ever awoken before or during those surgeries. By using these subjects, I learn more about human anatomy with every operation. I then return to my normal life, applying my augmented knowledge, as well as waiting to see if the police can finish the hunt, or perhaps give me more recognition."
"Why Sunnydale? With all the vampires?"
"I read about the death rate by hacking into area computers," Jacob replies. He walks towards the other end of Shaw's body, trailing a hand along her right side. Through the bandages, she only feels the dullest of sensations. "I found out about the lowering death rate two months ago, but decided my activities were less likely to be noticed."
"The police are not responsible," Shaw tiredly tells him.
"So I've gathered from talking with you," the Immortal admits. He slowly runs a hand along the top of Shaw's right foot. He turns to face her and says, "But now, it's time to give you the grand sight."
Jacob walks to the side of Shaw's gurney and presses a button. Shaw feels the gurney that serves as her prison begin to raise at the end her head is at. Jacob holds the button until the gurney's at a sixty-degree angle and presses the stop button on the small console. He walks in front of her and says, "My operating theatre, my dear."
Shaw's eyes take in the large room, which includes four gurneys identical to the one she's molded to, arranged around a well lit, full sized, and fully equipped surgical bay, complete with table, tools and trays, a massive overhead light, and a tank of what Shaw assumes must be anesthetic gas. She sees the magnitude of Jacob's passion laid out before her. She looks at him and says, "Jacob, you are evil and. . . a murderer, or you are mad."
Jacob looks at her accusing gaze, and his face falls. "A murderer, yes. Evil, perhaps. Insane, I am not, my dear Shaw."
Jacob then moves to the gurney and begins to wheel it to its proper place in the arrangement. Once he has it there, he clamps the wheels into triple-redundant locks bolted into the floor. "In case you have thought of rocking and tipping the gurney over, it's now locked in place. Also, it weighs more than two hundred pounds when one counts your mass added to the solid lead core. But now, I need to head out and scout out my next subject." His voice takes on a note of regret as he says, "I wish that we could have come to see each other again, perhaps know each other better, but I cannot allow someone who is willing to defend whores to attempt to change me. . . despite how much I respect her and admire what is otherwise a beautiful and fiery spirit."
"Jacob, don't do this," Shaw pleads as her head falls forward in her tipsy state. "I. . offer my life without hesitation. . . if no one else will die."
Jacob walks into view and with a sad smile, reaches up and places a tender palm against Shaw's cheek. "No, my child, I cannot accept. But this only greatens my respect for you. I'll make the final safeguards on your bed, then leave you to rest."
Jacob walks to the side of the gurney once again. With a sudden lurch, Shaw feels the gurney being lowered. Once it's about halfway back to being perpendicular, the descent halts. Jacob walks behind the imprisoned half-elf and picks up a special pillow from a nearby shelf.