Disclaimer: I don't own the books, characters, or ideas in the series. All I have to my name are my interpretations of them.

So, time for a brief ramble on my part...I discovered this series about a week and a half ago, and now I'm smitten with the concept and characters. This is just my attempt to explore the world of the series and to play with my interpretation of the Flamels.

Since this is my first attempt writing for this fandom, reviews would be greatly appreciated!

The Gulf of Mexico sparkled in the early morning light, the sun just cresting the horizon to tickle the water. But for the churning of the waves and the calls of some seabirds high above, the sea was still and silent, a splash of tranquility across the great canvas of the earth. Cutting through the surf with an ease befitted her sheer size and streamlined design, a great cruise liner interrupted the flow of the horizon, powering through the water towards the American coast.

Aboard the vessel, all was silent. Most passengers were still abed, recovering from a late night of drinks and partying, and the crew worked diligently at their stations, content to enjoy the morning in calmness. What the crew didn't know, though, was that they had two stowaways on board; just before the magnificent vessel had pitched off from the Iberian Peninsula, packed to the brim with tourists, two fleeting figures had slipped aboard, heads down but keeping a furtive watch on all around them.

For the majority of the voyage, all had gone well. They kept out of sight, hunkering down in an unused storage room, content to believe that they had eluded their diligent pursuer.

A calm escape, however, was not in their future; the day before the ship was to make landfall, a disturbance on the liner's lower deck promptly shattered the relative peacefulness of the morning. The two figures dashed towards the railing, headed for the small boat that, as if by magic, was waiting just off the bow. Heads low, Nicholas and Perenelle sprinted for their escape vessel with speed comparable to track stars, neither turning to look behind them nor pausing in their frenzied flight. They all but dove into the small shell, Nicholas scrambling to get the boat running and away from the hordes that pursued them.

With an irritated growl, the outboard motor puttered to life. It roared and then settled into a steady purr as Nicholas opened the throttle, trying to put as much distance between the ship and his craft as possible. For a fleeting moment, he and Perenelle shared a shaky smile, adrenaline churning in the excitement of escape. Beads of green-tinted sweat formed on Nicholas's face, steaming in the humidity of the warm summer morning. He blinked, directing the salty liquid away from his eyes, and looked over at his wife, who looked as composed as if she were simply enjoying a brief respite from walking, rather than just having covered the equivalent of a mile and a half of ship in a matter of minutes. "You'll have to teach me that trick sometime," he panted, running a hand through his short black hair.

Smirking, gave him an innocent look that he didn't believe for a moment. "What trick?"

Nicholas's retort was cut off as Dee flew onto the deck, followed closely by a cluster of clay soldiers. The European magician had stumbled across the immortal couple while they had been vacationing in France, and had been hot on their trail for the better part of a fortnight; it seemed he had detoured and picked up some aid along the way. Nicholas grimaced at his wife and threw even more power into the motor. "What are the odds they don't follow us?" he asked rhetorically, steering the tiny watercraft over swell after swell.

Behind them, splashes could be heard as the unmistakable sound of pursuit punctured the tentative silence and shattered any illusion of safety.

Perenelle gave him a grim smile. "Slim to none, I do believe." She stepped closer to Nicholas, grasping his arm. "We should stop and fight him, Nicholas." She spoke with urgency, her eyes alight with the heat and excitement of confrontation. "We can take him; he is weak now!"

Obstinately, Nicholas shook his head. "No. Nothing will be gained by fighting him."

"Flamel!" Dee's angry shout carried easily across the open waves. Borne by a feathered sea serpent he had dredged up from the depths, the magician sped towards his quarry, cutting through the water like a hot knife through butter. Mouth twisted in a determined grimace, he gave a twist of his hand and a great wall of water exploded before the fleeing couple.

Alarmed, Nicholas slammed the boat into neutral, decelerating just before the boat collided with the barrier.

"Give it up, Nicholas!" Dee called, his triumphant smirk marred by hate. He was gaining on them, his steed powering through the water with quick undulations of its powerful body. "Soon you'll be dead and I'll have the Codex."

In the outboard, Nicholas and Perenelle exchanged a look. Dee was overdramatic, certainly, but he did pose a very real and very dangerous threat. Perenelle turned where she stood, doing her best to mask her anticipation for the confrontation to come. It seemed Dee had left them no choice but to fight. Closing her eyes, she concentrated and directed her aura back towards Dee. A brilliant beam of white light shot from the sorceress's hands towards Dee's serpent mount, connecting with its eyes and shattering into thousands of blinding, faceted shards.

Roaring with rage and pain, its eyes punctured, the great beast thrashed, sending up geysers of water that swept through the water and nearly swamped the Flamel's small craft. Grimly, they held on to the sides, turning their minds to the churning waters below and calming the rollicking swells.

Blood oozed from the serpent's ruined eyes, pooling in the salty surf and dyeing it a horrible, rusty red.

Yelling his outrage, Dee made a sharp chopping motion and watched in satisfaction as the water wall he had conjured earlier split and surrounded his adversaries. Another motion from him collapsed it, sending tons of water thundering inwards toward the Flamels.

As the crushing water cascaded towards him and his wife, Nicholas jumped to his feet, arms extended, and a mint-green shield formed around the boat, the seawater streaming harmlessly down the sides and leaving him and Perenelle untouched. When the last ounce of water had returned to the sea, Nicholas gasped and broke the connection to the magic, grey under his tan.

Growling, Dee tried another tactic, this time focusing on the mechanics of the boat. With a word from him, the control console exploded in Nicholas's face, sending sparks jumping up the Alchemyst's arms and tongues of flame lapping hungrily at his face.

Desperately, Nicholas shook off the fire, doing his best to ignore the angry burns and blisters that had formed on his skin. Wincing in sympathy, Perenelle seized his injured hand and channeled her aura into it; instantly, a feeling of cool bliss settled into the injured appendage and spread up his arm, easing the bite of the burns. Nicholas turned to his wife with a small smile. "Thanks, Perry," he said.

"What's the matter, Nicholas?" Dee taunted. "Can't handle the heat?" Almost lazily, he sent a ribbon of aura knifing through the air toward Perenelle, who, distracted by her healing, failed to notice it.

Nicholas recognized the threat, however, and threw himself in its path, bearing the brunt of Dee's assault. He crumpled under the attack, falling to the floor of the boat with a dull thud. Horrified, Perenelle watched countless cuts open up across Nicholas's skin, the glistening red of his blood a warped mockery of the crystalline blue of the water below.

"Nicholas!" She ran to his side, clasped his face between her hands. "Heal," she murmured, sending more bright beams of light into him. Slowly, the worst of the cuts sealed and disappeared, leaving shiny pink scars as mementos of his mutilation. Nicholas wondered at the lack of a follow up on Dee's part, then noticed as Perenelle helped him to stand that she had erected a shining barrier between them and the English magician.

Turning to his wife, he gestured toward Dee. "There's not much time, Perry," he said, voice quiet and laced with urgency. "He's too powerful right now to destroy, and we've gone too long without the Elixer to resist him much longer." Perenelle leaned in and kissed him gently, moving her lips briefly against his. "I know," she said softly. Her expression hardened; the time had come to end this, one way or another. Drawing back, she narrowed her eyes, the contours of her face shifting subtly. "Can you keep him busy for a moment?" she asked.

At his nod, she turned to face Dee. The white barrier between them flickered and died, and as Dee caught a glimpse of her face, something inside of him trembled. Something had happened in that moment, some slight shift to her persona, and it was terrifying.

Now, she began to gather power, drawing it in to her aura as a flame draws a moth. Her green eyes deepened, her hair spread out in black waves behind her, and she looked across the water at Dee with an expression of such fathomless age and anger that the magician actually felt the faintest stirrings of fear.

Scowling, he squelched them beneath a surge of hatred for the woman before him, channeling a brutal wave of magic at her that was instantly absorbed by the shield Nicholas had been constructing.

"That is enough," Perenelle commanded, raising one hand. It pulsed an intense white, sending orbs of energy bursting out in every direction. A subtle shift came over their surroundings then, a slight change that left all of Dee's senses on high alert. The temperature dropped suddenly, all of the heat leeched from the air in a single swoop, and the humidity began to build, layer upon layer of moist air accumulating around the Sorceress.

Nicholas's pain and remaining abrasions were forgotten as he watched his wife in awe. He had never seen such an act of magic, but he knew what she was attempting: she was calling up a storm.

Perenelle glowed a blinding white, her aura all but consuming her as she blended air and water magics to create a swirling vortex of weather. Cool air met warm, twirling about each other and twisting into a series of clouds blacker than night. Wind gusted across the water, whipping the sorceress's hair behind her and chilling all present to the bone with its icy touch.

She was the eye, the center of the hurricane extending just beyond the edges of the boat in which she stood. Lightning cracked across the sky, bursting with a blast of sound that shook them to their core. Nicholas looked in awe at his wife. She was beautiful and terrifying, arms spread out to embrace the heavens, mouth turned up in a feral grin.

Fury and fear melded to make her an unstoppable force. For now, she was the storm.

Static crackled visibly through the air, and the scent of sulfur hung over the water like a thick, stifling blanket; face drawn and white, Dee concentrated all of his energy on stopping the storm. Waves of yellow billowed from his hands, creeping towards Perenelle and the clouds she had called into the sky. Almost lazily, though, the storm consumed them, drinking the yellow fire as if it was a quenching draught of water.

Dee began to gasp, shaking with the effort it took to maintain his aura. Finally, he conceded and broke off with a strangled cry, looking with dread at Perenelle. Her emerald eyes shone through the gloom, crackling with little sparks of light and burning with rage. Her mouth opened, she spoke—the words were lost in the roar of the storm, but Dee did not need to hear them to know their intent.

Slowly, Perenelle raised one hand and pointed towards Dee, and she unleashed her storm.

Beside her, Nicholas could feel the magic leave his wife, feel it release her and stream away into the storm. As the last bit of conjured strength drained away, Perenelle staggered, catching herself on the side of the boat and holding herself steady. She trained her eyes on the maelstrom she had created. Panting slightly, she watched rain sheet down all around them, striking everything around them with freezing, heavy drops.

Atop his serpent, Dee let out a yell of alarm. He screamed something at the Flamels and gestured, making a last-ditch effort to subdue them, but the actual words were lost in the hurricane's roar, the magic swallowed by the maelstrom's fury.

In their tiny boat, the Flamels stood and watched as Dee was swept away by the clamoring tides, watched the lightning arc across the sky and the dark clouds all but swallow the horizon. The storm blew across the open water at a furious pace, decimating anything in its path and finally passing beyond their line of sight.

By this point, Perenelle was utterly drained, shaking with the effort of holding herself within the realm of conscious thought. She raised a hand to her stark, white face, brushing silver-lined hair back behind her hear and feeling the tremors that shook her to the core. As she looked up, she caught Nicholas's eyes and saw his face displaying numerous emotions, only some of which she could identify. "What is it?" she asked.

He shook his head, still out of touch with reality after what he had just witnessed. "Did I know you could do that?" The fear and admiration in his voice made her smile despite her great weakness.

"No." Her grin was both tired and devious, and her lips twitched with the effort it took to hold the expression steady. "A woman has to have some secrets." All at once, the exhaustion she had been holding at bay set in and she crumpled, eyes closed before she even knew she was falling. She was spent, utterly drained of energy and magic.

Catching her, Nicholas smoothed the hair out of her face and cradled her in his arms. Hundreds of years together had given them a bond no one could come between, had connected them in such a way that it put even the most renowned of romances to shame. He stood stock still for a few moments, Perenelle feather-light in his arms, and stared down into his wife's face, lost in a moment of memories and magic. Then, shaking himself out of his reverie, he turned his attention to the ruined control console of the boat; it was time to get off the water.

Afternoon had long since arrived and was beginning to wane by the time Perenelle stirred. Her eyelids felt like lead as she blinked her way back to the world of the living. The world blurred, shifting in and out of focus as she regained her bearings. Her tongue was like a brick in her bone-dry mouth, heavy and useless.

She was unaccustomed to feeling so weak, and as she slowly sat up, she realized bemusedly that her storm had aged her significantly, expending aura she had not intended to use. Her hands were still smooth, but a quick glance at her long dark hair revealed multiple strands of silver that had not been there earlier. She knew without looking that lines had appeared on her face as well, creasing her complexion with the calling card of age.

"Aha! You're awake!" Suddenly Nicholas was beside her-darling, determined Nicholas-staring right into her eyes with his knowing pale ones and forcing a cup of some liquid into her trembling hands. "Drink up, my dear," he said, helping her into a comfortable seated position. "I was lucky enough to find all of the necessary ingredients."

Blankly, she stared down at the cup, her mind still slogging its way through hours of unconsciousness exhaustion. When her brain denied her attempts to force it to work, she looked at Nichols, uncomprehending his intent.

"The Elixer, my love," he explained. "I thought it best to make it now, if at all possible. Our encounter catalyzed the aging process, I'm afraid." He smoothed his thumb over her cheek, smiling fondly. "Though, you seem to have borne it much better than I—you haven't aged a day."

Perenelle snorted. "You are a shameless flatterer, Nicholas. Have you already taken your dose?" Taking another, longer look at her husband, Perenelle answered her own question; she could see that he seemed much more alert than before, and the signs of their skirmish had all but disappeared. His hair was once more thick and black and close-cropped, his skin tanned and free of the worst lines of age. His aura, too, was replenished, bursting out around him with untamable ferocity.

Perenelle raised the cup to her lips but did not drink, content to simply sit and soak in her husband's presence.

He smiled at the scrutiny, then tapped her gently on the nose. "Drink, Perry," he said, kneeling in the grass beside her. She obeyed, tilting the cup so that the cool liquid ran between her lips and down her throat. She could feel it begin to take effect even after one sip: wrinkles smoothed away, skin regained its elasticity, and her aura replenished herself, energy flooding into her depleted magic and revitalizing her.

"Mmm…" Perenelle allowed herself to fall back against the springy cushion of grass. "Much better." Sensing Nicholas had assumed a similar position beside her, she cracked an eye open and turned to a questioning look at him. "Where have you settled us, love?" she asked.

Nicholas propped his arms behind his head and gazed up into the darkening sky. "Somewhere along the eastern coast of the United States," he said. "I thought it safest to keep a low profile for a few days before heading home, on the off chance that Dee is still lurking around."

She nodded, satisfied. "Quite astute of you, darling."

He grinned outright, the elation of freedom easing the reservations he normally observed with his emotions. "I'd like to think so."

Turning her full attention on him, Perenelle reached over and traced a hand along his arm, searching for any sign of the burns and cuts Dee had inflicted upon him earlier. Sensing where her train of thought had derailed, Nicholas caught her hand in his and smiled. "All healed," he assured her, "and mostly thanks to you. All the Elixer did was erase the scars." The hand he held remained a hostage, trapped in his, and they settled into a companionable silence.

The sun now sat low in the sky, dipping low to brush the trees with a feather-light kiss. Saturated with an array of colors, the heavens yawned wide and chasmal, greens, reds, and yellows blending seamlessly with the blues and faint pink of the late afternoon. The tapestry of colors met at the horizon, exploding up into the sky above and eventually settling into the deep, rich blue-black of night.

A bright spot of light winked into being in the air above, twinkling cheerfully for a moment before just as quickly winking out. Higher, beyond the limits of the earth, a larger, stronger light gleamed with an unquenchable force, the first star of the evening a glowing inspiration for the swarm of fireflies below.

Lying in the grass, hands intertwined, Nicholas and Perenelle inhaled the sweet smells of summer and relished the opportunity simply to exist. There were no Elders, no immortal humans, no dark and evil beings pursuing them across the ends of the earth. Today, after their earlier ordeal, they were at peace, alone but for the buzz and rustle of the nature with which they had surrounded themselves.

The final vestiges of spring were quickly receding into the background, overtaken by long, hazy summer days, and green had burst into the landscape with alarming force, saturating the scenery with varying shades of emerald, olive, and jade. It was the first free moment in weeks the couple had had to themselves, the first time they had not been engaged in some experiment or fight for their lives. Though they had managed to keep their residence in San Francisco a secret, Dee had nevertheless found them during their recent vacation to France and had chased them all across Europe before Perenelle's storm had dispatched him.

"Do you miss Auvergne?" Nicholas's voice floated softly through the air to reach his wife's ears. He lay with his eyes closed, free hand resting in the thick carpet of grass on which they lay. Dee had interrupted their French holiday within its first week, and he knew his wife would be full of regret, as she adored the mountainous French province.

Perenelle's teeth gleamed in the light of the rising moon as she smiled. "Non, mon amour," she murmured, slipping into the modern French they'd grown accustomed to speaking. "J'ai vouz, alors je suis contente." She laughed softly and reverted to English. "Besides, America is truly beautiful."

And it was. They were hiding within the coastal region of the nation, and picturesque as Auvergne was, it had little in the way of warmth. Ancient, majestic oaks surrounded them, their branches adorned with Spanish moss and resurrection ferns whose amassed bulk stood as a statement of the trees' longevity. Looking up at the towering, gnarled oaks, Nicholas felt a kinship of sorts with these woody giants; like he and his wife, they had lived for centuries, bearing the wear and tear of time to emerge triumphant.

Watching some purple martins flit in and out of branches, Nicholas allowed his mind to wander from the present and back into the past, skimming through memories of times less complicated by technology and pursuit. "How long has it been since we've had a moment of peace?" he asked contemplatively. Absently, he tracked the movement of the clouds above, watching the puffy purple-hued masses drift lethargically across the sky.

Regret and longing were evident in his tone. It had never been a secret between them that he longed for obscurity and harmony; Perenelle felt much the same. Life would be so much simpler if they were not constantly on the run, protecting the Codex and seeking the twins of legend.

Lips parted slightly, Perenelle allowed a soft sight to escape her. "Far too long," she admitted. Like her husband, she was weary, the weight of the world and their responsibilities to it weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Both knew, however, that had they the option to alter time, to return to that fateful day when Nicholas acquired the Codex and prevent it from becoming reality, they wouldn't. Every single time, Nicholas would create the Elixer, and Perenelle would remain at his side, defending the Codex and her husband and living and loving all the while.

The early summer evening was warm, with just the barest trace of humidity touching the air. Beneath their backs, the grass was thick and firm, the product of numerous spring showers and ample sunlight. With the buzz of cicadas in their ears and the sweet, green smell of life surrounding them, the two immortals found themselves lulled into a hazy sense of tranquility.

Perenelle's eyelids grew heavy, lowering to mask her vibrant green eyes from the world. Utterly relaxed, she seemed to Nicholas a goddess at rest, skin as smooth and pale and her hair as dark as when they had first met nearly seven hundred years before. His wife had always been a source of awe to him, her wit, beauty, and standing as a sorceress making her a far more distinguished and valuable individual than him. Of course, she claimed just the opposite, citing her husband's skill as an Alchemist, ingenuity, presence, and nobility of character.

Each was so in love with the other that their marriage had all but become legend as well. It was never just Nicholas Flamel, or Perenelle; always, unchangeably, it was Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.

Shaking off her drowsiness, Perenelle sat up, face upturned to the sky. "It is nice to not be running," she remarked, gently combing her fingers through her dark hair to loosen the blades of grass that had taken refuge in the dark strands. "After a while it becomes…tiring."

Nicholas squeezed the hand he held, turning it over in his grasp and running his free hand along her smooth skin as he marveled yet again at the power of the Elixer. Even after taking their doses mere hours before, the Elixer had already worked its magic, and both he and his wife appeared far younger than their years, untouched by time's burdens. Imbibed with new strength and youth, their magic restored to its peak, they were now more powerful than ever—a strength that showed itself in their auras as well as appearances.

If Nicholas closed his eyes just so and concentrated on the magic, he could see Perenelle's aura, a fierce white glow rippling out from her skin to hover like a shining nova in the air around her. Hidden from the world though it may have been, they had been married for so long that it took virtually no effort to find it. Her pure light was laced with an assortment of color in an attempt to dissuade any arrant spirit from approaching, but the white shone stronger than all the others, pulsating gently in time with the steady beat of his love's heart.

"Why do you smile so?" she teased, tilting her head back and quirking her lips into a grin.

He smiled in return, sitting up and offering a sheepish half-shrug as an answer, a casual twitch of one shoulder. "You're beautiful," he said simply. "You're more intelligent and powerful than I could ever dream of being, yet for more than six hundred years you have consented to stand beside me as my wife and partner." His pale eyes gleamed in the growing moonlight. "I am truly the luckiest man alive.

"Ah, but you do yourself a discredit, love." She detached her hand from his to trail a loving caress along his cheek. "It is because of you we have had these long years together." Sighing lightly, she let her hand drop and fell back against the thick cushion of grass.

Nicholas flopped back to the earth beside her, landing in the grass with a soft whumph. He marveled for the millionth time that bones and joints that only days before would have protested such an action now happily absorbed the impact. For all his body knew, he was young again.

His mind, however, knew differently. He recalled with painful acuity the numerous lives that had been lost, the people he and Perry had known and loved and seen cut down before their time. The golds and the silvers… His face creased with sadness he refused to show, and Perenelle, sensing his change in mood, turned on her side to give him a sympathetic glance. He sat for a few minutes with so many things he wanted to express, but all he finally said was, "Mars is bright tonight."

Perenelle allowed her him a moment of silent contemplation. Brushing a long strand of hair out of her eyes, she leveled another brilliant smile at her husband, trying to coax him from his melancholy. "That it is," she agreed, turning her eyes heavenward once more.

Only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, set against the steady droning of the cicadas in the trees up above, dared to break the silence. The warm summer breeze whispered through the canopy, rustling leaves and turning branches with its tender touch. It was the barest breath of wind, passing through the air and ghosting over their skin, leaving the faintest impression of salt and lay in companionable silence for some time, two immortals, seeking respite within a fleeting moment of tranquility.

Above, untouched by time or the insignificant skirmishes of humanity, the stars shone on.

I often wonder how I can write so many words and nevertheless not have much plot develop; I suppose it's an innate tendency to lean towards character development. Ah, well...c'est la vie. Anywho, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this little blurb, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Reviews, as always, are encouraged and greatly appreciated. Feed the starving author!