DISCLAIMER: Highlander Television Series copyright 1993 Gaumont Television. All rights reserved. The characters Connor MacLeod, Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan, Adam Pierson/Methos, and Joe Dawson are owned by Davis/Panzer Productions, Inc. They are used without permission, but with great reverence. The personality destruction/reverse Quickening idea comes from Russet McMillan's story, Adam. The other characters and the story itself belong to Jennifer Allen, copyright 1996. Please send all comments to jen@jendaveallen.com, especially if they're good. If you distribute or save this story, please leave the header intact.
WARNING: This story contains scenes that are both violent and sexually graphic. If either of these offend you, please select another story. If they don't offend you, sit back and enjoy the ride.
TIMELINE: This story is set sometime after the fourth season, and eight months after the events in my first story, Consequences. I've tried to make this one stand alone, but I make no guarantees. All of my fanfic can be found at http://www.jendaveallen.com/Fanfic/ficidx.htm, or you can email me and I'll send you a copy.
Seacouver, December 1996. Richie leaned against the wall near the baggage carousel and tried to put the last eight months in perspective. Let's see, he thought, it was March when Lucas Buck kidnapped me and started to make me his vernal equinox sacrifice. That was an experience I could definitely have lived without, even if I did meet JL Dawson. Richie looked up, but JL hadn't returned from the Starbuck's counter yet, so he returned to his mental summation. She killed Lucas like a pro, even though she thought she was just a Watcher, not a pre-Immortal. Of course, most Watchers don't have six years of sword training with teachers as good as Jim O'Leary and Bryan Cutler. In fact, she's had more training than I've had and she's only been an Immortal since March. But the way she killed Lucas' mentor, Alaric Sutkin, now that was incredible. Almost as amazing as the fact that Alaric's personality is still alive and well and living in JL's brain. If her eyes didn't change color from blue to black when Alaric takes over her body, you'd never know which one you were talking to. And I thought I had cause for nightmares. Richie shuddered slightly and shifted to a more comfortable position against the wall. Adam tested her for a couple of months, though, and he's sure she can control Alaric, so it's not as bad as the Dark Quickening Duncan took. Now if she'd just notice that I want to take over Adam's former role as her lover, all would be right with the world.
Richie's musings were interrupted when JL came up beside him and offered him some of her cappuccino. Shaking his head, he offered to help her with the bearclaw he hoped was in the bag she was carrying. Laughing, JL handed him two- thirds of the pastry and a cup of regular coffee, extra sweet.
"I hate people like you," she said conversationally. "All you do is eat and you never gain a pound."
Richie grinned. "It's one of the few benefits of a high metabolism. What's the point of being an eternally-growing boy if I can't eat like one?"
JL snorted and leaned next to him. "None, I suppose. Us old fogies have to be more careful though."
"I'll be glad to help you burn it off," he offered, only half-jokingly. "How about tonight?"
JL looked thoughtful, then nodded. Richie's smile had just started to change to surprised anticipation when she continued. "I'll meet you at the dojo after dinner and you can spot me on the weights."
JL laughed at Richie's crestfallen look and tickled him. While they were in San Francisco, Richie had assumed JL would sleep with Adam, but he was testing her control of Alaric by picking as many fights with her as possible, so they always ended up stalking off to their separate bedrooms at the end of the evening. After Adam left and she wasn't being constantly riled, Richie had begun trying to seduce her. So far her answer had been a resounding "maybe." Richie understood JL's reticence--he knew the signs of childhood trauma when he saw them--but he'd hoped she'd begun to trust him enough to let him get a little closer. He was about to say so when they both felt the sudden disorientation that heralded the approach of another Immortal. JL turned around quickly and scanned the baggage area, then relaxed a little when she saw Duncan making his way towards them. Richie smiled broadly and moved off to greet his friend, but JL chose to wait by the now-moving carousel to get their bags.
"Hey, Mac!" Richie embraced Duncan and then clasped his shoulder. "How are you? What's going on? Where's Joe?"
Duncan laughed, delighted to see Richie's youthful exuberance back in full force after his encounter with Lucas Buck. "Slow down, Richie," he chided gently. "I'm fine. It's been pretty quiet without you, as I'm just beginning to appreciate. And Joe was in the middle of a jam session with some of his musician friends, so I offered to come get you. How was San Francisco?"
"Great. You'd love Bryan's study. He's got this massive claymore displayed over the fireplace. He said it dates back to William Wallace's time, and a friend of his actually used it during the battle at Stirling Castle in the thirteenth century."
"Bryan was at Stirling Castle?" Duncan asked eagerly. "I'd love to hear about that sometime."
"It's a great story," Richie agreed. "I guess Jim and Bryan fought for Robert the Bruce, too. Jim says Bryan really got into the whole Scottish independence thing, although Bryan claims that it was Jim who wanted to stay." Richie laughed and shook his head. "Those two are hysterical when they get going. The roof of their townhouse has a solarium that overlooks the San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz, and JL and I would sit up there for hours listening to them argue about who wanted to do what and who couldn't give up which cause. They've been through so much together, I'm amazed they have to talk at all." Richie grinned fondly and then returned his attention to Duncan. "Anyway, from the roof during the day, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge and Sausalito, and after the fog rolls in at night it gets all ethereal and a little spooky."
"Ethereal?" Duncan asked, grinning.
Richie blushed slightly and lowered his gaze for a second. "OK, OK. That was how Jim described it. Bryan called it 'mystical,' but I like the sound of 'ethereal' better."
Duncan laughed and patted him on the back. "Careful, Richie," he warned playfully. "People might start to think you're educated."
Richie shuddered in mock horror and replied, "Gosh, I hope not. They might start to expect things of me then."
Duncan shook his head reprovingly, "Not much chance of that, Richie. Not much chance at all." Growing more serious, Duncan looked at JL, who seemed to be fascinated by the bags on the carousel. "JL doesn't seem very happy to see me. How are you two getting along?"
Richie looked at her for a minute, deciding what to say. "I think you intimidate her," he said finally. "But she'll deny it if anyone asks. When she first started working with Joe she really wanted to impress him, so she memorized all of your Chronicles. Now she can't look at you without remembering all the wars you've fought in and all the causes you've championed." Richie winked at Duncan and continued, "I told her if she got to know you that your all-powerful aura would fade pretty quickly, but she doesn't believe me."
Duncan glared at him. "Maybe if you stopped ignoring my 'aura' so completely, I wouldn't have to tell you the same things over and over."
Richie shrugged. "And maybe I'll buy that bridge you're selling, too, right?"
Duncan sighed dramatically. "You've recovered," he said, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice. "Completely."
Richie scuffed the ground with his sneaker, then looked back at Duncan and smiled hesitantly. "Yeah, I guess so. Bryan took me on a camping trip for almost a month. We went to Yosemite for a week, then headed south to Big Sur. He'd get me out in the middle of absolute nowhere so I couldn't take off without getting abysmally lost--and trust me, the one time I did try, I almost ended up falling off a very steep cliff in the dark--then make me talk about what happened. Fortunately for both of us, it did get easier after a while, and he finally brought me back to the city. He survived Sutkin's attentions for almost four days, so anything I said he could identify with." Richie gazed unseeingly at the people milling around with their luggage, then shrugged and returned his attention to Duncan. "The most important thing he made me realize is that it's over. I can sleep at night again, and that makes a tremendous difference."
Duncan nodded. "I remember when Garrick was sending me those nightmares that had me fighting shadows all over town. I was so tired that I thought you were one of the apparitions. It is hard to function on little or no sleep, even when you're Immortal." Duncan smiled sheepishly and clasped Richie's shoulder. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Bryan sounds like a very patient man."
"He is. So is Jim, but in a more stand-offish way. They make a really interesting couple. JL says Bryan's the one to watch out for, though, because he's slow to anger but impossible to calm down once he does get there. Even Jim doesn't get in the way when Bryan gets angry." Richie grinned mischievously. "We'll have to practice later. Bryan showed me a couple of moves that he thought you might not know. He said your Japanese instructor was--in his opinion, of course-- 'fairly modern.' He didn't make it sound like a bad thing, just not his style."
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "So you've found a new mentor, have you?"
"Oh, no," Richie said hurriedly. "He's good, but I like your style better. Jim and Bryan, well, they're amazing to watch, but they've been together so long that I feel like a fifth wheel."
"That eventually passes," JL said, maneuvering the full luggage cart up to Duncan and Richie. "Although you'll never figure out 1,800 years worth of in-jokes, no matter how long you study their Chronicles. Actually, your best bet is to ask Jim how to beat Bryan, then ask Bryan how to beat Jim. I learned some of my best moves that way, and it was gratifying how quickly they stopped taking me for granted. Hello, Duncan. Joe conned you into picking us up, did he?"
"Hello, JL. He didn't really con me. I offered. He was playing with some friends of his from New Orleans."
JL nodded. "It's amazing what he can do on the spur-of-the-moment, isn't it? I've accused him of practicing that stuff on the sly for years, but he insists the heart of Jazz is its spontaneity. I don't know," she continued with a small shrug. "I fool around with the guitar he gave me, but I usually stick to Jackson Browne or the Eagles. So, Richie," she said, gesturing toward the overloaded cart, "did I get them all?"
Richie counted the bags and nodded. "Yep. That's how many I checked."
JL smiled. "Good, because nothing else will fit. You bought too much stuff in San Francisco, and you already had two suitcases to begin with." Smiling at Duncan, JL elbowed Richie. "I never thought he was a clothes horse until he started asking Jim where he got his clothes. Then it was a different outfit every day."
"It was not," Richie protested. "Jim and Bryan didn't want to stop in Seacouver, so all I had were the two suitcases I had were packed for Switzerland, which was our original destination before we detoured to Sutkin's Colombian fortress. And San Francisco was usually too hot for wool sweaters and ski pants."
JL just shook her head and made a show of dragging the cart toward the door. "Where'd you park?" she asked Duncan piteously. "I hope it's not too far."
Laughing, Richie grabbed the cart from her and the two of them continued bickering cheerfully all the way to Duncan's T-Bird.
Duncan listened to them and smiled to himself. Well, they've certainly hit it off, haven't they? he thought. Joe said they might, because of their similar upbringing. It does explain why Joe was able to get Richie to trust him so completely so quickly, though. He'd already tamed his own street-rat, so he knew what to say and when. I just hope Adam was right when he declared her 'in control' and headed back to Paris. I'd hate for Sutkin's personality to overwhelm hers and force her to kill Richie or Joe. I'll never forget the way my Dark Quickening nearly made me kill them, and did make me kill Sean Burns. Fending off uncomfortable memories of laughing at Richie while he was kneeling at Duncan's feet waiting to die, Duncan loaded the suitcases in the trunk and back seat and drove JL to Joe's house, then dropped Richie off at his apartment.
Five days later, JL leaned against the wall and watched Richie reach across the pool table for his shot. Jim's tailor deserves a medal, she mused. Those pants are perfect on him, as every other girl in the place seems to have noticed. Maybe it is time to take our relationship to the next level. Signaling to the waitress to refill their drinks, JL shrugged slightly. And maybe I'm just playing dog in the manger. Why spoil a good friendship with sex?
Because it's fun? answered Sutkin's voice from the area of her mind that JL had told everyone she could control.
Shut up, Alaric, she replied silently. I'm busy losing at pool here, and I don't need any more distractions.
Sorry, little one. Try for the three in the corner. Just a suggestion, don't get so huffy.
JL growled silently at the voice again, then studied the table. "Three ball, corner pocket," she said reluctantly. Sinking the three, she was contemplating her next shot when a man's voice broke her concentration.
"Lori? Is that really you?" the man said.
JL glanced up to see who he was talking to, then dropped her cue on the table in shock. "Jason?" she whispered incredulously. "Oh, my God, Jason. How in the world did you find me?" JL stared at the man for another second, then she hugged him.
Richie gazed at the newcomer with undisguised interest. The man was about 45 years old with graying dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in new blue jeans, a crisp green polo shirt, and a shiny black leather jacket. Richie thought he seemed happy to see JL but uneasy hugging her. Jason pulled back after a few seconds and tried to cover his discomfort by saying, "Here, let me look at you. God, you've grown up so much."
The man's obviously-new clothes and shifty eyes set off alarm bells in Richie's head, but JL seemed oblivious to the signs. Clearing his throat, Richie interrupted with what he hoped was a more sincere smile than Jason had. "Hi," he said. "I'm Richie. JL's friend and pool partner."
Jason smiled dismissively at him and shook hands. "Hi, Richie. I'm Jason. Lori's..."
"JL," JL interrupted firmly. "My name's JL now, Jason." Turning to Richie, she said quietly. "Jason's my foster-brother, Richie. We haven't seen each other since when, Jase? 1971, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. A couple of nights before Dad died."
JL started slightly but just smiled at Richie. "Could we have some time alone, Rich?" she asked. "We need to catch up on 25 years of life, and it will be boring for you, I'm sure."
Richie had a feeling that bored was the last thing he'd be, but he looked at JL's face and nodded. "OK. I'll get a drink and hang around a while, in case you need a ride home."
"I have a car," Jason said.
"I'll still have a drink, if you don't mind," Richie replied, a little sharper than he'd meant to. Jason shrugged and Richie gave JL a quick hug while whispering "Be careful" in her ear. She smiled reassuringly at him, then turned back to Jason and led him to a quiet corner. Richie watched them go then headed for the bar. As he walked past the booths, he noticed two men that looked vaguely familiar. Ordering a beer, he tried to remember where he'd seen them before. The official liquor license framed behind the cash register reminded him of being at the courthouse with Mac and Tessa when she went to pay her parking tickets and they ended up being taken hostage by Bryan Slade and his gang. After Mac had killed the kidnappers, they'd been debriefed for hours by the FBI as well as the local cops, and the two men in the corner had been the Federal agents that had spent an inordinately long time talking to Tessa.
Leaning over the bar, Richie gestured to the bartender, who was a friend of his from the old neighborhood. "Charlie," he said quietly. "Do you know those two guys in the back?" Charlie glanced and shook his head, and Richie continued, "What are they drinking?"
Charlie grinned. "Changing your orientation, aren't you, Richie? You usually want to know what the ladies are drinking."
Richie grinned back. "Gotta go where the money is, Charlie. Now what is it?"
Charlie shrugged and ambled over to chat with one of the waitresses. When he came back, he looked thoughtfully at Richie. "Who are they?" he asked.
"Cops. FBI types, actually. So?"
Charlie studiously wiped his bar, then said quietly, "Soda."
"That means they're on duty," Richie said with a sigh, and Charlie nodded. "Been here long?"
"Since 7. Right after you and your lady friend came in, I do believe. What did you do this time?"
"I didn't. And neither did JL, so don't ask."
Charlie shrugged and wandered off. Richie sipped his beer and tried to figure out what was going on. Let's see, he thought, we've got JL's brother, showing up mysteriously after 25 years. He's wearing all new clothes, but that might be to impress JL. The cops have to be working, or they'd be drinking beer, at least. They're definitely not here for the pool tables. Richie shifted and undid the top button on his shirt. It's hot in here, and Jason hasn't even taken off that leather jacket. With a sudden sinking feeling, Richie called Charlie over. "Can I get some quarters, Charlie?" he asked.
Charlie looked surprised but gave Richie the change. Walking over to the cigarette machine, Richie bought a pack, got some matches, and wandered outside for a smoke. Leaning against the wall, he used the trick he'd learned in junior high school to overcome his disgust at the taste of the cigarette. Concentrating on how cool he looked, he managed to inhale two small puffs without gagging or coughing too much. These taste awful, he thought. Good thing I dropped out of school before I learned to like them. Looking around, Richie finally spotted the surveillance van he'd been afraid was going to be there. Going back inside, he waited until JL glanced at him, then he took a deep drag on the cigarette, blew the smoke towards her, and started coughing. JL didn't seem to notice at first, then her eyes widened in surprise. Putting a hand on Jason's arm, she spoke quietly for a minute, then moved towards the bar. Richie gratefully put out his cigarette as she walked over and stood next to him to order her drinks.
"FBI," he whispered to her. "I saw two in a back booth, and there's a van outside. Jason is wired. It's a trap, JL."
JL shook her head slightly and whispered, "Why?"
Richie shrugged, then whispered back, "The two in the back are working, because they're only drinking soda. They came in right after we did. I've seen them before working a hostage situation in a local courthouse. And Jason didn't like you hugging him, plus he's still wearing that coat. I think he's wired. It's a trap, JL. I can feel it. Dump Jason and meet me at Joe's bar."
JL took her drinks, stirred them carefully, then nodded the slightest bit and returned to Jason as if nothing were wrong. Richie finished his beer, slid Charlie an extra $20, and headed to Joe's bar to wait for her.
Duncan was the only one seated at the bar when Richie arrived, and he slid in next to him with a small smile.
"You're back early," Duncan commented. "JL get tired of playing pool with a shark?"
Richie just shrugged and motioned to Joe. Joe drew him a beer and studied his serious expression. "You and JL have another argument over the meaning of life?" he asked.
Richie shook his head and sipped his beer. "What was JL's name when you first met her, Joe?" he asked.
Joe looked curious, but he decided to answer Richie's question before asking some of his own. "She said it was Angelina Hethden. I checked with New York and the real Angelina was born May 9, 1955 and died eight days later. Why?"
"Anyone ever call her Lori?"
"Lori?" Joe repeated. "No, not that I ever heard. Why? Who called her Lori?"
"Her brother, Jason," Richie said slowly.
Joe stared at Richie in disbelief. "Her brother? Are you sure it was her brother? Richie," Joe insisted, grabbing Richie's arm. "What happened? And where is she?"
Richie sighed. "We were shooting pool when this guy came over and said 'Lori, is that you?' She said it was her brother, Jason, then she told me to scram so they could catch up on old times." Richie studied the pattern of rings his beer glass was making on the napkin, then he looked up at Joe. "Remember you said if I ever found out anything about her father I should tell you so you could track him down and kill him?" At Joe's curt nod, Richie sighed again. "Well, it's too late. Jason said they hadn't seen each other since quote a few days before Dad died, unquote. And the way JL flinched made me wonder."
Joe wiped the bar slowly, then leaned against it with a heartfelt sigh. "I knew it," he said softly. "She never said it, but I think I always knew. She never wanted revenge. I always found that odd."
Richie studied him closely. "Are you sure it was her father who abused her?"
Joe nodded. "In some of her early nightmares, she very clearly said 'No, father, please don't. Please stop.'" Joe rested his head in his hands for a minute, then looked back at Richie. "Did she seem happy to see him?"
"Too happy," Richie grumbled.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing, Joe. I guess I'm just jealous he interrupted our pool game. She'd just sunk a really nice shot, and I was hoping she might win one."
Joe looked uncertain, but one of his waitresses needed a drink order filled, so he moved reluctantly down the bar. Duncan watched him go, then turned to Richie. "So," he said quietly. "What didn't you tell Joe?"
Richie looked at him, then checked to make sure Joe was out of earshot. "Two of the FBI agents that questioned Tessa after we were held hostage in the courthouse were watching the pool hall," he said softly. "I think Jason was wired. JL's supposed to dump him and meet me here."
Duncan shook his head. "Be careful, Richie," he warned. "If JL's being investigated by the FBI, you shouldn't get in the way."
"I'm not going to. But I do want to help her. Isn't that what friends do?"
"Take it from me, Richie," Duncan said earnestly. "Remember the last time Amanda got me involved with the FBI over those counterfeit plates? We both ended up getting shot in the back."
"Yeah, and a corrupt cop went to jail. Case closed, wrong righted, and the hero gets the hero's reward from a gorgeous lady. Sounds good to me."
"It's not that simple, Richie," Duncan insisted. "You could end up in serious trouble."
"So could JL. She's my friend, Mac. I just wish you'd get to know her a little better. The three of us could practice together, maybe, then you could invite her up for lunch. I can't think of what you have in common except for sword fighting, but I didn't have anything in common with you when we first met either, and I adjusted OK."
Duncan nodded slowly. "All right, Richie. I'll try. But you still need to be careful with the FBI."
"I will, Mac. You know me. I'm always careful around cops." Richie smiled encouragingly at Duncan. "You'll like her, Mac. She's got a good heart once you get past all her defenses."
Joe nodded agreement as he approached and refilled their drinks. "That she does," he said with a proud smile. "If you think she's defensive now, though, you should have seen her in '74. Spines out to here." Joe held his hands about two feet apart and smiled. Bringing his hands about six inches apart, he said, "Now they're just little stubbly things. Hardly noticeable. From a distance, anyway."
A sudden flash of lightning brought them all to attention, but they relaxed again as it was followed by a peal of thunder and the sound of rain. "I've really learned to hate lightning storms," Joe muttered as his heart resumed a steady beat.
Richie nodded, then remembered his bike and dashed outside to cover it. Joe watched him sprint out the door, then turned to Duncan. "You two looked pretty intense," he said. "What were you arguing about?"
Duncan looked at Joe's carefully-neutral expression and sighed. "It's not that I don't like her, Joe, and I am impressed with how far you've brought her. But every time I talk to her, I'm left with more questions than when I started. She holds back so much with me, and I don't know why."
"Everybody else she meets wants something from her, Mac," Joe replied. "I needed someone to help me adjust to having artificial legs and a whole new career in the Watchers. Adam wanted a lover and someone who could tell him things about the other Watchers. Jim and Bryan started out wanting someone to help manage their dance studio and ended up using her to spice up their love life. Even Richie wants to be more than friends, although he's not pushing her into anything." Joe sighed and leaned on the bar. "But you," he continued, "you don't need her, and she senses that. She can't find a hold over you, or even a category to put you in. She automatically looks for weakness and all she finds is that calm, controlled, I-can-handle-anything attitude. Mere human beings aren't supposed to achieve that state of security, especially when they have Amanda dropping in and out of their lives on a regular basis."
"So I should tell her about all the mistakes I've made?"
Joe smiled. "No, she already read about them. If you really want to get to know her, ask her about one of her passions, surveillance work or photography. She loves hiking in the wilderness, too. In fact, she was the one who followed you when you trailed Caleb and his crew into the mountains after Tessa. Remember the ax you saw in my office when you found out about me? Well, she was the one who brought it back." Joe hesitated, then poured himself a drink. "That is, if you want to bother to get to know her," he said casually.
Duncan sighed. "It's no bother, Joe. She's important to you, Adam, and Richie. That makes her important to me. Besides, I owe her for talking Richie into staying with Jim and Bryan these last few months. They obviously helped him a great deal, and I didn't even know where to begin." Duncan looked toward the door as Richie came in shaking the rain out of his hair.
Joe nodded. "JL says Bryan's got a couple of degrees in psychology. He does a lot of AIDS counseling in San Francisco, too."
Richie came back to the bar and poured himself some coffee from the pot Joe kept at the end of the bar. "It's nasty out there," he commented. "I hope JL's not out in it."
"She won't melt," Joe replied with a chuckle. "She used to drive that van of hers in all kinds of weather to catch up with Lucas, and Jessica before that. I think it's become a matter of pride. You know, 'Neither rain nor snow nor dark of night...' Besides, she knows we'll want the whole story once she gets here, so she'll wait until the place is empty. Today's Tuesday, so it should only be another hour or so. This isn't really a late-night crowd."
Richie nodded, then shifted as the door opened and he recognized the two FBI agents from the pool hall. "Damn," he swore softly. "What are they doing here?"
"Who?" Joe asked, but Richie didn't have time to answer as the agents approached the bar.
"Are you Joseph Dawson?" one of them asked.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"I'm Agent Carstairs, and this is Agent O'Reilly. We're with the FBI."
Joe examined the credentials they offered him, then nodded. "So you are. What can I do for you?"
"We'd like to talk to you. Alone."
Joe shook his head. "I'm the only bartender tonight, gentlemen, so I have to stay here. And anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of my friends here."
Agent Carstairs frowned, but Joe just settled himself more firmly behind his bar. "All right," Carstairs relented. "What do you know about the murder of Jeffrey St. Cloud?"
Joe looked puzzled. "Jeffrey St. Cloud? Never heard of him. Who was he?"
"An FBI agent. He was killed in New York City in August of 1971."
"1971? I was in Europe. I didn't come back to the States until 1973."
"We think the murder was committed by his adopted daughter, Lori." The agent handed Joe a copy of JL's California driver's license, and he examined it with an unreadable expression.
"What makes you think I can help? I just told you I wasn't even in the country."
"Lori St. Cloud is now calling herself Joanna Lynn Dawson. And you co-signed her car loan."
Joe nodded slowly. "JL's lived with me on and off since 1975. But I didn't know her name used to be Lori. She never talked about her past, but I gathered it wasn't pleasant."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. She's 37 years old and hasn't had a curfew in decades."
Carstairs frowned but handed Joe his card. "When you see her, tell her to call us."
Joe nodded, and the two FBI agents left. "Jeffrey St. Cloud," he muttered. "I wonder if he was related to Xavier."
"Not to my knowledge," came JL's tired voice from the shadows in the back of the bar. "Although they did share a certain irreverence for the sanctity of human life."
Joe looked startled, then glanced at Duncan and Richie, who grinned. "Just because we felt her come in, Joe," Richie said, "didn't mean we had to tell the FBI."
JL smiled and dropped onto the stool next to Richie as she set a can of WD-40 on the bar and began drying her hair with a towel. "It's a bit damp out there," she said matter-of-factly, "and your back door is now freshly oiled."
"Where did that come from?" Richie asked.
"I parked my van out back before I left for Colombia, and I haven't bothered to move it yet because we've been using your motorcycle every night."
Joe laughed and picked up the can. "Don't leave home without it, hmm? I'm glad to see that time I caught you breaking into my office because the door squeaked wasn't a wasted lesson."
"My ears will never forget it," she said with a grimace. "You must have lectured me for a solid hour over a silly little bottle of brandy and a dusty old book."
"You were too young to drink and that 'dusty old book' was one of Duncan's Chronicles..."
"Where's Jason?" Richie interrupted before they could get too involved in reliving the past.
JL looked at him and sighed. "Back at his hotel. I'd have been here sooner, but I spotted someone following me so I had to get rid of them first. I hope they enjoyed trying to pick up my trail in the rain."
"Did you hear what the FBI agent said?" Joe asked.
"Yes. The acoustics in here are as good as you designed them to be." JL sighed and contemplated Joe's assortment of scotch before pointing to one and letting Joe pour her a drink. "It's true, by the way," she said softly, studying the amber liquid intently so she wouldn't have to meet their eyes. "I killed him. Three months after my twelfth birthday." JL drained the scotch and motioned for Joe to pour her another, but Richie stopped her from picking it up by gathering her into his arms.
"You had a good reason," he said soothingly.
"Is there ever a good reason for murder?" she retorted bitterly.
"Yes. When the person who gets murdered doesn't deserve to live. Like Xavier St. Cloud or Kalas."
JL just shuddered and buried her head in Richie's shoulder. "Those were fair fights," she said brokenly. "They had a chance. My father was practically asleep."
Richie hugged her tightly for a minute, then held her at arm's length so he could look into her eyes. "You were 12, JL. Nobody expects a 12 year old to be able to fight fair. Nobody expects them to have to." Gently caressing her cheek, he said softly, "You killed him because he was molesting you, right?"
JL almost looked like she was going to bolt, then she forced herself to relax and nodded. "I guess it's not much of a secret, is it? Lots of energy wasted covering up what everyone already knows."
Richie pulled her close again. "How old were you? The first time, I mean."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. You know what Bryan says: 'If you can't talk about it, then it matters a great deal.'"
"Bryan can get a bit full of himself at times."
"You're stalling, JL," Richie insisted.
JL sighed, then pulled away and settled back on her bar stool. Sipping her second scotch, she regarded Richie tiredly. "Eight," she said finally. "It was his way of apologizing for missing my birthday party. He was off in a drunken fog somewhere, no doubt."
"Why didn't your mother stop it?" Duncan asked.
JL looked at him and shook her head. "My father was 6' 4" and built like an ox. My mother was 5' 2" and very soft- spoken. When she finally annoyed him enough, he threw her down the stairs and crushed her skull. Accidentally, of course." JL sighed and swirled her drink. "That was when I was ten. After she was gone, he dropped any pretense of propriety and made me move into his bedroom."
Joe reached out and laid his hand on her arm. She squeezed his hand and mustered a small smile. "It was almost better, in a way. He didn't get angry about my mother's looking at him or her 'accusing tone,' as he called it. I thought things were going to go on that way forever."
Joe waited for a minute, but JL just stared at her drink and didn't continue. Giving her arm another small squeeze, he said softly, "So what changed?"
"I met someone in Central Park. I was sitting up in a tree watching the other kids sail their boats and thinking about why my last suicide attempt had failed when he walked up, looked around, then sat down under my tree. I didn't think he'd seen me, but he started talking. He told the most wonderful stories about princes rescuing fair damsels and evil dragons meeting their grisly rewards. He had this great English accent that I'd never heard before, and I just sat there enthralled. After a couple of hours he got up, looked right at me with these beautiful blue eyes and a smile that could melt any girl's heart and said, 'I'll see you tomorrow. Same time, same tree, all right?' Then he left. I didn't really expect to see him again, but I did. At least a couple of times a week for nearly a year and a half. He told me stories, taught me to play chess, and generally gave me something to look forward to. He told me things that I didn't believe but that I liked hearing--that I was smart, pretty, and that I'd be someone important someday. The funny thing was that he really seemed to believe it. Of course," she added with a smile, "he did have inside information."
Joe stared at her intently. "Inside information? You mean about your pending Immortality?"
JL nodded, then dug out her wallet and retrieved a dog-eared photograph. Smoothing the wrinkles with a loving hand, she passed the photo to Joe. "Hugh Fitzcairn," he almost whispered, amazed.
"Fitzcairn. After I found out he was Immortal, I kept meaning to try to 'accidentally' run into him to tell him how grateful I was, but I kept thinking that I'd have time." JL smiled ruefully and carefully put the picture back in her wallet. "He always said if you want something, you have to go for it without hesitation. So one day, about a month after he told me he had to go on a business trip and wasn't sure when he'd be back, I found a stiletto under a bush in the park. Its blade wouldn't retract anymore, but I thought it was a gift from the gods. I took it home and, the next time he fell asleep after he raped me, I slit his throat with it." JL sighed and continued bitterly, "And if I could have stuck around I'll bet the whole neighborhood would have thrown me a party."
JL went to take the bottle of scotch from Joe, then thought better of it and got a cup of coffee. Sitting back down without looking at any of them, she stirred in the sugar and then sighed. "So that's the whole sordid story. If you want to call Carstairs back and turn me in, I'll understand."
Joe snorted. "The hell I will. Besides, it was a case of justifiable homicide if I ever heard of one."
JL smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I don't think the FBI is going to care. My father was a miserable bastard, but he was also an FBI agent."
"Is that why he got away with killing your mother?" Richie asked.
"Mostly. That and he made me lie for him and say that I'd seen her trip and fall."
"Why didn't Jason help?"
"Jason loved his daddy. And he was already 16 by the time our father started molesting me. He stayed out a lot, and he got away with it because he was Jeffrey's 'real' son." JL sighed. "He moved out right before Mom died, so he didn't see him move me into the master bedroom."
"But he must have known," Richie insisted.
"Like father, like son," JL said bitterly. "But what could he really do? Our father had very large fists, Richie. And he enjoyed using them, even on Jase now and again."
"What I don't understand," Duncan said quietly, "is how the FBI found you now?"
"Through Jason, I guess. After I moved in with Joe, I sent Jason a letter telling him I was OK, but not giving details or a return address. I heard that he'd gotten arrested for car theft a few years ago, but, other than that, I haven't seen him or talked to him. He said an old neighbor of ours, saw me and told him I was here." JL shrugged. "Could be. I would have thought I'd recognize Kathleen if I saw her again, but I've already started tuning out anyone who doesn't 'buzz.'"
Richie shook his head and looked angry. "Maybe he got caught again and he's selling you out to make a deal for himself. What did he say?"
"Not much. He has a wife and kid, and he's in AA. That's why he says he looked me up--to get my forgiveness. One of the steps, or some such."
"He's lying," Richie said flatly.
"Most likely. It was a survival skill in our house." JL yawned. "Well, guys, I'm beat. If they found you here, Joe, they're probably watching your house. I'm going to drive over to a hotel for the night."
"You can't use the van," Duncan interrupted. "I'm sure they have an APB out on your license plate."
"You can come home with me," Richie offered.
Duncan shook his head. "No, you two have been out every night since you came back. They're probably watching your place, too, Richie. They probably aren't watching my loft, though, and Richie has some sweats there that should fit you. Joe, Richie, and I will leave, and, when I'm sure I'm not being followed, I'll circle around and pick you up out back. You can stay with me until we figure out how to handle this."
"I can't ask you to hide me from the FBI, Duncan."
"You're not asking. I'm offering. It might not even work, if they checked Richie's background thoroughly enough. I'm betting that they only have enough people to stake out Joe's house, the bar, and Richie's apartment. If they see Joe lock up for the night, they'll probably leave the bar and concentrate on his house and Richie's apartment, especially in this weather."
"It bothers me that they tipped their hand to Joe," JL said quietly.
"They probably figured that Joe would call you and they could get the phone company to trace the call," Duncan theorized. "Or, if he didn't call you, you'd show up here or at Joe's house. Luckily they underestimated your ability to spot surveillance setups and glide through them undetected."
"And Richie's memory for FBI agents."
Duncan smiled. "That too. I certainly didn't recognize them."
Smiling hesitantly at Duncan, JL said quietly, "Thank you. I really appreciate your help."
"Don't worry about it. Come morning we'll figure out a plan. Connor's in New York City, and he should be able to help."
Joe grinned. "I didn't know Connor was wired in with the FBI," he said.
Duncan grinned back. "Connor's wired into everything. I thought you Watchers knew all this stuff."
Joe smiled. "Not my assignment." Joe stood up and announced "Last call" to the remaining patrons, preparing to close the bar. JL helped with the chairs, then grabbed a broom as the last of the crowd filed out, leaving Joe, Duncan, and Richie alone at the bar.
Joe shook his head. "She always cleans when she's nervous," he explained. "Our house used to be spotless until she settled in."
Closing the register, Joe walked over to give JL a good-bye hug and his spare set of keys. Walking out with Duncan and Richie, he locked the door behind them and left JL to wait inside the back door for Duncan.
JL was quiet on the drive back to Duncan's loft, watching the rain stream down the windows and trying not to flinch when the lightning flashed. Duncan could tell she was upset from the restless patterns her left hand kept tracing on her leg, so he decided to try to get her talking. "How was San Francisco?" he asked.
JL started as if she had forgotten he was there. "Good," she said softly. "It's a beautiful city, and I enjoyed showing Richie around. He gets excited over everything. I'd forgotten what that was like."
Duncan smiled. "He does, doesn't he? That's one reason I like teaching him. He reminds me of everything I take for granted."
"I wonder how long it will be before he gets jaded like the rest of us."
"Jim and Bryan don't seem jaded."
"They're not. But they surround themselves with mortal students and get doctorates in whatever catches their fancy-- Jim says it takes more work to stay in touch with the world than it does to survive in it."
Duncan nodded. "He's right. Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it."
"What do you do then?"
Duncan stared at the rain and sighed. "You wait," he said finally, "until something or someone jolts you out of your depression. For me it's been a couple of people. Connor. Darius. And Fitzcairn." Duncan smiled fondly. "I can picture Fitz sitting under a tree telling fairy tales to a young pre-Immortal. It fits his romantic style."
"You know the funny part?" JL asked a bit hesitantly. At Duncan's questioning glance, she continued, "I read the basis for a lot of his stories in your Chronicles. And Connor's. It took me a while to pin down why the entries about you fighting with Bonny Prince Charles sounded so familiar, but that was it. Fitz told me about it, although," she added with a chuckle, "I don't remember your name coming into it. Nor Connor's, for that matter."
Duncan smiled. "That's Fitz. I'll miss his unfailing irreverence, even if he annoyed me constantly."
JL seemed unsure of whether to ask a question, but they arrived at the dojo and she was spared the decision. Dashing from the car into the building, Duncan took her upstairs and showed her where the futon and extra bedding were kept while he got out Richie's sweats. She set it up in the corner near the spiral staircase, then carefully laid her scimitar next to it. Duncan laughed softly and JL looked up at him in surprise. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No," he replied quickly. "Sorry. I wasn't laughing at you, really. I was just wishing all my house guests were that neat."
JL smiled. "Well, you can't expect Richie to have both youthful exuberance and a tidy nature. The two are extremely contradictory."
Duncan nodded. "True enough. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"
"No, thanks."
Duncan noticed that JL looked reluctant to actually get into her newly-made bed, so he decided to try to help her relax. "How about a workout before turning in? Richie thinks Jim and Bryan taught you a few moves that I might not know."
JL blushed slightly, but looked eager to burn off some energy. Retrieving her scimitar, she followed Duncan into the elevator and back down to the dojo.
After stretching out a bit, the two of them began to circle warily. JL studied Duncan's eyes and shoulders to try and figure out when and where he was going to move, but he didn't give off any more clues than Jim or Bryan did. Deciding to take the initiative, she attacked fast with a feint to his leg followed by a real cut to his arm, but Duncan blocked the shot easily and responded with a thrust to her side. The katana slit her shirt but not her skin, and she began a more cautious series of attacks that resulted in some satisfying exchanges, but no solid hits for either side.
Separating again, they circled a bit more, and then JL dove into a roll that put her behind him, and she scored a small cut in Duncan's back before he could whirl around and parry her next shot. They were both grinning as they maneuvered, each enjoying the rush of adrenaline and the solid feel of steel on steel. Duncan suddenly leapt up on a weight bench and flipped over JL's head, then uncoiled and cut deep into her side as she began to turn. He stepped back assuming she would wait for it to heal, but she drove in without hesitation in a fierce exchange that sent sparks flying and backed Duncan into the punching bag. He stumbled slightly as the heavy bag rebounded and hit him in the shoulder, and JL darted in and placed her scimitar at his throat. They stared at each other intently for what Duncan considered to be an eternity before the bloodlust receded from JL's eyes and she stepped back and lowered her blade.
"Sorry," she said quietly. "I do get a bit carried away sometimes."
Duncan rubbed his neck gingerly. "It's all right. I should have pulled that first shot."
JL shook her head. "Jim and Bryan don't pull anything, now. They expect me to fight to the death. Several of them, sometimes."
"Sounds a bit severe."
JL shrugged. "They tell me it's better to die with those who'll let you keep your head. We even fight two-on-one occasionally."
"Who against whom?"
"We alternate. Bryan calls out the first team, then he'll suddenly call out new teams. It's fun, and it definitely keeps you on your toes."
"I'd think it would," Duncan replied, trying to envision suddenly fighting against the person you'd just been working with. "No wonder Richie thinks the three of us should work out together. He probably wasn't going to warn me about the changing-teams-in-mid-battle part."
JL smiled. "Don't worry, they didn't do that with him. They said they didn't want to interfere with your training. But he did watch us do it--maybe he does think we should try it."
Duncan laughed. "He loves to learn new moves. If he put half that effort into his school work, he'd be a Ph. D. by now."
"Education's not a big seller on the streets. Fighting ability--now that's always useful." JL stretched a little, then grinned mischievously at Duncan. "Best two out of three?" she proposed. "Loser cooks breakfast and washes the dishes."
Duncan smiled and raised his blade. "You're on. But I'll warn you--I'm very particular about how my Eggs Benedict are prepared."
JL kept an eye on the English muffins as she mixed up the Hollandaise sauce. Me and my big mouth, she thought as she worked. I should have known that punching bag thing was a fluke.
If you had let me take control of your body we could have taken him, little one, Alaric told her.
Oh, good morning, Alaric. So you said last night, repeatedly. JL grinned wryly. That's probably why I lost. Your constant yammering distracted me.
I do not yammer, Alaric thought indignantly. I merely suggested a few strategies during the quieter parts of the fight.
You don't get it, Alaric. If he sees me turn into you, he'll probably kill me. Kill us, I should say. Adam said my talking to you isn't the same as your controlling me, but he wasn't too keen on it. And Duncan has even less reason to be lenient.
"JL?"
What?
I didn't say anything, Alaric replied. That was MacLeod.
Oh, joy. JL shook herself slightly and looked at Duncan, who was watching her curiously. "Sorry about that. I haven't had enough coffee yet. What did you say?"
Duncan still looked curious, but he just pointed at the toaster. "The muffins are starting to burn," he said.
JL rescued the muffins, scraped off the blackened edges, then assembled the Eggs Benedict. Pouring them both coffee and juice, she settled in to eat without quite meeting Duncan's eyes. They ate in a somewhat strained silence for a while, then she squared her shoulders and looked at Duncan. "Joe told me how Kalas killed Fitz, and then you killed Kalas." At Duncan's nod, JL continued slowly, "Do you ever talk to Fitz? Or to anyone whose Quickening you carry?"
"Talk to them?" Duncan replied in surprise. "Do you mean more than just trying to imagine what the other person would say?"
"Yes. I mean a conversation where you get information from the other person that you couldn't know any other way."
Duncan shook his head, then reconsidered. "Once, sort of. Sean Burns was a good friend of mine I killed because I couldn't control the Dark Quickening. When I first looked into the holy spring Adam took me to, I saw Sean's face, then I heard his voice speaking to me. He said he forgave me and told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and defeat my demons. But that's the only time. Why?"
"I can talk to Alaric," she said, tensing as Duncan's eyes widened. "Adam says it's unusual but not unheard of." She grinned wryly in an effort to lighten the mood. "Adam seems to have heard of almost everything. I've got to find out how old he really is."
Shaking her head and returning to the point, JL looked back at Duncan. "Alaric knew Adam in Rome in 150 AD, which is where they both met Jim and Bryan just before those two became Immortal. Apparently there was a bit of an altercation as to whether Adam or Alaric would mentor the two youngsters, and Adam won." JL studied Duncan's face, but he didn't meet her eyes. "It doesn't mean he can control me, Duncan," she said earnestly. "Adam, Jim, and Bryan all tested me over and over. Adam got me so mad that I tried to strangle him, but it was me, not Alaric. I can only hear him when I'm not paying attention to something else, like when I forget about the muffins or I'm waiting for my next pool shot. And I don't feel compelled to do what he says. Although," she added with a sigh, "he is a better pool player than I am, and I usually do better when I follow his advice. But it's still me making the shots."
Duncan shook his head. "When I was under the influence of the Dark Quickening, I did things I don't remember. Or, at least, don't want to remember."
"But you did notice gaps in your memories, didn't you?" JL insisted. "Time you just couldn't account for?"
"Yes," Duncan replied slowly. "I guess that's true."
"Well, I don't have any gaps. I can recall every glorious second of wrapping my hands around Adam's throat and squeezing until he managed to break free. He quit picking on me about my fear of horses after that, let me tell you."
Duncan smiled, and JL relaxed slightly. "I guess my father did me a favor after all."
"How so?" Duncan asked.
"They said part of the reason my personality survived is that I have a tremendous reserve of anger against my father and all men who remind me of him. When Alaric dropped his sword and said 'Go ahead and take my Quickening, little one,' he sounded a lot like my father. And I fought hard enough to beat him."
Duncan nodded. "You'd already had your trial by fire, so to speak."
"Precisely. Plus when Joe took me in as his own, he gave me a clear idea of who I want to be now that I have a choice. That's why I concentrated on being JL Dawson rather than Lori St. Cloud when I took Alaric's Quickening."
"Joe's a good man," Duncan agreed.
"The best." JL poured them more coffee, then set down the pot and looked directly at Duncan. "So, now I've leveled with you, just as Joe and Richie have been telling me to. What now?"
Duncan greeted her unspoken challenge with silence for a minute, then he smiled. "Now," he said, "we finish these eggs and you do the dishes. Then we'll plan how to get you cleared of your father's murder."
JL smiled gratefully, and the two finished breakfast in a more companionable silence. They were settling in to begin strategizing when Duncan's phone rang.
"Richie," Duncan guessed.
"Joe," JL countered.
"Hello?" Duncan said into the phone. "Oh, hi, Connor. That was even faster than I'd hoped. What did you find out?"
JL listened impatiently while Duncan talked to Connor, letting her left hand draw its random patterns while she sipped her coffee. After Duncan said good-bye, he came back to the couch and glanced over her shoulder.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the drawing.
JL looked confused for a second, trying to remember when she'd picked up the pencil. "This?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "It's nothing. Just doodles. Why?"
Duncan took the drawing and studied it. "It looks like a Chavín god-symbol from Peru, circa 800 BC."
JL shrugged. "Could be, I guess. Maybe I saw one in a museum once. That was even before Alaric's time."
Duncan nodded. "Interesting though. They practiced ritualized torture and dismemberment for prisoners. Maybe Alaric borrowed a page or two from their book."
"Lots of cultures practice ritual torture, though, so what makes you think Alaric copied the Chavíns? Not to mention the fact that only an antique dealer would see a 2,700-years-dead god in a doodle on a piece of legal paper."
Duncan laughed. "Anyway," he said handing the paper back to JL, "Connor's friend in the FBI, Danny Kane, pulled a few strings and found out that the investigation was just re-opened, but he couldn't find out why. Apparently Danny doesn't have a 'need-to-know' about your case. He's going to keep checking, but it may take some time." Duncan shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch and looked at JL. "So let's try and figure out what they might know. When you left your apartment for the last time, was it obvious you were running away?"
JL shook her head. "No. I got dressed, walked out, and calmly chatted with Mrs. DuPont next door before saying I needed to run to the all-night market for breakfast supplies. She knew how angry my father got if his breakfast wasn't exactly on time and just the way he wanted it, so she wasn't surprised. I'd slipped out at night to do the shopping before."
"You didn't pack anything?"
"Just the money my father had in the house, some jewelry, and a change of underwear and socks that I tucked in my coat pockets. I was wearing two shirts and a sweatshirt, but I was pretty thin so it all fit OK under my coat."
Duncan looked impressed. "It sounds like you planned the whole thing rather expertly."
JL nodded slowly. "I didn't plan to kill him until I found the stiletto, but I did have some expert advice in how to run away. Fitz told me a story about how he escaped from the clutches of a beautiful woman who wouldn't let him go by dressing much the same way and slipping past her unsuspecting guards. He then rendezvoused with the lady's maid and ran away to some Greek island."
Duncan chuckled, "I remember that story," he said, then he nodded thoughtfully. "Did you ever tell Fitz about your father?"
"Not explicitly, no. But he knew I wasn't happy, and that I was as afraid of my father as I was fascinated by Fitz." JL smiled fondly. "He was the one who started calling me JL, because I wouldn't talk to him at first. He said all I ever did was Just Look, Just Listen, or Just Leave, so he might as well call me JL. And he wasn't going to stop telling his stories until it stood for Joyously Laughing." JL stared at the drawing for a minute, then said softly, "It worked, too, by the end of the year. Our tree in Central Park became the only place I ever felt safe the whole time I was growing up. I knew he was exaggerating like crazy, but, as Jimmy Buffett says, 'There is a tale the island people tell, don't care if it is true 'cause I love it so well.'"
Duncan gave her knee a small squeeze and she smiled at him. "But you knew Fitz," she continued, "so you know what I mean. If you're asking whether his stories gave me hints on how to run away and lose myself in society, the answer's a definite yes. Right before he left he told me how a friend of his had run up some massive gambling debts so he went to the cemetery, got the name of some child who had died young, then applied for a copy of the birth certificate and made a new identity for himself. I almost didn't believe him, but I thought it would be fun to try. And two months later, I had all the paperwork to become Angelina Hethden." JL sighed and got up to get a glass of water. Returning to the couch, she said quietly, "Fortunately, I've always looked older than I was, so I could manage to pass for 16 if the person looking at me wasn't too careful. I suppose when I ran away I could have done better than Boston's Combat Zone, but the man I met at the bus station seemed so friendly and helpful. Before I could orient myself I was his 'favorite girl' and all I needed was a little shot to make the nightmares go away. I would have given my soul to talk to Fitz again at that point, but he wasn't there. So I gave my soul to my pimp and heroin dealer. At the time, I thought I wouldn't need it."
"Did you tell anyone what your father had done to you?"
"To be honest, I don't really remember anymore. I doubt it, because no one cared until I met Joe, and by then I'd decided I had to hide it at all costs in case someone tied me to the murder."
Duncan frowned. "Did anyone in New York City notice that you were being abused?"
"Anyone who's still alive? Jason, but he's apparently working with the FBI. Some of my teachers noticed a couple of times when my father hit me in the face, and my right arm was in a cast more often than not from the time I was nine until I was around eleven. Every time I got the stupid thing off, he went and broke it again for some reason."
Duncan looked encouraged. "So there are hospital records," he said.
"Lots of them, but that was 25 years ago, and who knows how many are left? They would be all over the city, too. He was smart enough not to go to the same ER too often."
"That's OK. Joe, Richie, and I will fly to New York City and collect the records. Then we can build you a case of self- defense. I'm sure Connor knows a good lawyer. He's needed one himself now and again."
"What about me?" JL asked.
"Call the FBI and turn yourself in. Then they'll have to pay for your flight back to New York, and it will look good at your bail hearing. If they have to smoke you out, you're much more likely to be considered a flight risk."
"And if I get convicted?"
Duncan smiled encouragingly. "You won't. We'll find a way out of this, JL, I promise. And Joe, Richie, and I will be there every step of the way. I'll bet Jim, Bryan, and Adam will be, too, if you want to call them."
JL hugged him impulsively, and Duncan held her firmly for a minute before letting go. "Now," he said, "shall we try another two-out-of-three for the honor of making lunch before you call Agent Carstairs?"
JL grinned fiendishly. "You're on. Alaric and I were just discussing strategies over the breakfast dishes..."
Two days later, Duncan, Richie, and Joe were on their way to meet Connor at Kennedy airport in New York City. Jim and Bryan had offered to take them there in Bryan's Lear jet, and, after they'd reached their cruising altitude, Richie had immediately headed for the cockpit demanding a explanation of every dial and gauge. Jim eventually gave Richie the co- pilot's seat, then he headed back to join Duncan and Joe. Settling into a seat facing them, he tried to look grave, but he couldn't keep the humor out of his eyes. "We're in trouble now," he said ominously. "Bryan's letting Richie fly the plane."
Joe looked nervous, but Duncan laughed. "As long as Bryan doesn't let him land, it should be OK, Joe," he said. "It's easier to fly than to drive a car once you get her airborne."
"Do you fly?" Jim asked.
"I did while working for the French Resistance. Small planes, though, and I haven't done it in decades."
"Me either, actually," Jim admitted. "Bryan loves it so much, I never get close to the controls anymore."
"I'm surprised he's letting Richie fly, then."
"Bryan's still trying to impress him..." Jim began.
"This is your captain speaking," interrupted Richie's voice over the intercom. "Please fasten your seat belts as the barrel rolls will begin immediately."
"Not in my jet they won't," came Bryan's unamplified, but still perfectly audible, voice from the cockpit.
"Kids," Jim, Joe, and Duncan said together, then they all laughed.
"Did you hear from Adam?" Jim asked.
"Yes," Joe replied. "He's going to meet us in New York City. He plans to stay at the Ritz-Carlton."
"I thought he was broke," Duncan exclaimed.
"He is. Or consistently claims to be," Joe said with a laugh. "He said something about Jim and Bryan paying for it because, and I'm quoting here so don't get mad at me, 'It's the teacher's prerogative to choose and the student's job to pay.'"
Jim snorted. "You'd think after 1,800 years we'd get to cut the apron strings, wouldn't you? Maybe we'll have to remind him yet again that neither Bryan nor I took the last couple of centuries off. Or," he said with a wicked grin, "maybe we'll just get a room with one bed and make him earn his keep."
Duncan and Joe exchanged shocked glances, and Jim laughed. "Forgot to mention that phase of his life, did he? Well, he did thoroughly enjoy living in Ancient Greece, you know. And studying with Socrates wasn't the only thing I've heard him wax rhapsodic about. Besides, we wouldn't be doing our jobs as his friends and memory-joggers if we let him forget."
Duncan laughed. "He must love it when you bring up his past in front of his new friends."
"Adam hasn't made many new friends," Jim said. "At least, not in the last few centuries. He pretty much went into hibernation after Martinique nearly ended his illustrious career."
"The island?" Duncan asked.
"No," Jim replied with a wink. "The girl."
Duncan looked thoughtful. "I don't remember him ever mentioning the island or the girl."
"He wouldn't. She's one of those embarrassing moments that he'd love for us to forget."
"Do tell," Duncan encouraged.
Jim hesitated a second, then grinned. "OK. It's actually relevant anyway, if you go back far enough. It seems that Adam met Alaric Sutkin while leading Bryan's battalion. They were both waiting for Bryan to die so they could mentor him, and there was quite a bit of infighting behind the scenes before Adam drove Sutkin out. Sutkin's response was to take over command of the opposing battalion, of which I happened to be a member. He gave me explicit orders to defeat Bryan, and to cut off his head because he'd heard that Bryan was 'possessed by a demon' and that was the only way to kill him. I wasn't to engage anyone else if I could help it, just focus on Bryan. I didn't know what was really going on, of course, because I hadn't died yet, either. But I was honored that my commander had chosen me for this very special mission."
Jim went to get the bottle of scotch, refilling all three glasses before he continued. "So that's what I did. Or tried to do, rather. Bryan was good, and we both landed killing blows almost simultaneously." Jim grinned. "I still remember wondering why he looked so triumphant about the fact that my blade was buried in his chest until I looked down and realized that his was buried in mine. Luckily for both of us, Adam's tactics won the day, and he was sitting on his horse nearby when we woke up. We looked at each other, then at him, then at each other again. He just laughed and said to Bryan, 'How many times have I told you not to block a sword with your chest? Now do you believe me?' Then he turned to me and said, 'Hello, my name is Arden, this is Benedictus, and all three of us are Immortal. Welcome to the Game.' And thus did Sutkin lose not one but two potential acolytes as well as the entire battle."
Jim laughed softly and sipped his drink. "But I haven't gotten to Martinique yet, have I? Let's see. Do you know about the Black Adders?"
Duncan shook his head, but Joe looked thoughtful. "Isn't that what Sutkin's group calls itself?" he asked.
Jim nodded. "Yes. What do you know about it?"
"That's about it. Adam mentioned it in passing once, but he didn't give me any details."
"Figures," Jim commented dryly. "Adam never did believe in giving out unnecessary details, and he's even worse now. Anyway, after Adam bested Sutkin in Rome, Sutkin would occasionally send one of the Black Adders after Adam's head. One of the ones who almost got it was Martinique. She was gorgeous--ebony hair, midnight blue eyes, and a figure that made even Bryan take notice. Adam fell for her instantly, and he broke one of his own Rules: 'Never sleep with a strange Immortal until you're sure they're not out to kill you.' Well, Bryan and I were asleep in the next room when all hell broke loose. Adam was cursing, Martinique was yelling, and furniture was flying. We went in to find Adam defending himself with a chair because she'd managed to throw his sword out the window. Bryan asked him innocently whether giving him a sword would be considered interfering in a fair fight, and Adam shouted 'No' while Martinique cried 'Yes.' Bryan thought about it for a second, then shrugged and said, 'Sorry, honey, but he still owes me money,' then tossed his rapier to Adam."
Jim took another sip and grinned. "The fight got a little more even after that. She was good, but Adam was in his best form back then, and he won. He looked a little regretful when he took her head, but I think he was more upset about losing the rest of her, personally."
Duncan grinned. "Now I know how Richie feels when he hears about one of my screw-ups. It's encouraging to know that even Methos can get taken in occasionally."
"Adam told you his real name?" Jim said in surprise.
"He didn't plan to," Duncan admitted. "An Immortal named Kalas was trying to kill Methos so he'd have enough power to be certain of defeating me. I didn't really believe the legend, but I wanted to try and warn him, just in case. Joe sent me to the Watcher who was in charge of compiling the Methos Chronicle. When I realized that the Watcher was also Immortal, it was rather obvious who it was. I told Joe before I really got to know Methos, but I never told Richie or JL."
Jim nodded. "We practically had to beat his real name out of him. But his idioms were hideously dated, so we knew he was old. Of course, back when he was in his best form, he didn't care as much because he could take anyone who challenged him. Martinique threw him so badly it's taken all this time to regain his stride." Jim grinned. "Watch him pass a travel poster for the island sometime. He'll flinch, I guarantee you."
Duncan nodded. "When I found him last year, he was extremely rusty, and he admitted that he hadn't take a head for nearly two centuries. He's gotten better lately, though."
Jim smiled ruefully. "So we found out when he stayed with us this last time. He managed to beat me once, which made him inordinately proud of himself. Bryan, however, dropped him rather neatly every time they fought."
Duncan smiled at the note of pride in Jim's voice as he talked about his lover's skill, but he wanted to hear more about Methos' younger days. "Do you have any more embarrassing stories about Methos?" he asked, but Richie's voice interrupted him.
"This is your co-pilot speaking," Richie said, his voice slightly more subdued. "We are approaching New York City, where the temperature is a balmy 20 degrees and the local time is 4:30 pm. Please prepare for landing and return your steward to his upright and locked position."
Jim raised an eyebrow and laughed, then went to store the bottle of scotch and the glasses. "Just make sure you land this crate yourself, Bryan, or we'll see who gets into a locked position," he called into the cockpit.
Bryan laughed and replied, "Don't tease me, James. I'm trying to concentrate here." Then he brought the jet in for a textbook landing. After taxiing the jet in its assigned spot, Bryan pulled Jim aside for a short conference. When they were done, Jim came back to Duncan, Richie, and Joe, and told them to go on without them.
"We have a couple of things to check out," Jim explained, "and it's better if we're not seen with you. That way if anyone's paying attention to who's visiting JL, they won't recognize us. Please tell JL that we're here and we'll see her as soon as we can. We'll get her a room at the Ritz, too. Adam will just have to fend for himself."
"I'll tell her," Duncan replied with a smile. "Connor promised to find out where she was being held, and to take us over to see her."
"Good. We'll be in touch. We can reach you at Nash Antiques, right?"
"Yes," Duncan confirmed, then he, Richie, and Joe set off for the passenger loading zone where Connor had promised to meet them.
The first indication Duncan had that something was wrong was when he saw Connor's face. His clansman had never been overly emotional, but his greeting was even more subdued than usual. "Duncan," was all he said, giving him a brief hug and a pat on the back.
Duncan looked curious, but decided not to discuss it in the middle of the loading zone. "Connor. You might remember Richie, although I don't think you exchanged names the last time you met. And this is Joe Dawson, the Watcher I've been telling you about."
Connor shook hands with Joe and Richie, then led them to the van he'd rented. After he had negotiated the airport traffic and gotten to the highway, Connor finally looked a little more relaxed. "I thought Jim and Bryan were coming, too," he said to Duncan. "That's why I rented this yacht."
"I wondered what happened to your Porsche," Duncan replied with a smile. "I'm glad you haven't wrecked it yet. Jim and Bryan decided to go on alone and pretend they aren't involved. Lord knows what they'll end up actually doing. I'm almost afraid to consider the possibilities."
Connor laughed his staccato laugh. "Jim and Bryan? They'll do some shopping, maybe turn up dancing in Cats, then show up at the courthouse at the last second with the crucial piece of evidence and a mysterious smile when you try to find out how they got it."
"How did you meet Jim and Bryan?"
"We ran a couple of merchant ships together back in the late eighteen hundreds, when I was calling myself David Carruthers and they were Benedict Collins and Jeff O'Roarke. The last time I saw them really was at Cats, though. I was sitting in the audience when I felt the buzz, and I looked up to find this poor dancer teetering on one of the ramps they had suspended above the audience. I figured he was the Immortal from the way he reacted, and I felt like I should apologize to him for nearly ruining his grand entrance. I didn't recognize the name Bryan Cutler, but he did look vaguely familiar, so I had the usher slip him a note during intermission requesting a friendly meeting backstage. I didn't really expect him to take me up on it, but I figured it was worth a shot." Connor chuckled again. "As soon as I walked backstage and saw them standing together, though, I knew who they were, greasepaint and cat costumes notwithstanding. As a pair, they're unmistakable."
Joe chuckled softly and Connor glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "That was about seven years ago, wasn't it?" Joe asked.
"About that. How'd you know?"
"JL lived with them for the year and a half they performed in Cats. The way she tells the story, your apology was really an excuse to get an introduction to the starlet who sang 'Memories.' Worked, too, as I recall."
Connor nodded wistfully. "So it did. She was incredibly, uhm, athletic." Shaking himself slightly, Connor reluctantly returned to the subject at hand. "I do remember noticing a pre-Immortal hanging around their dressing room with a camera. I tried to talk to her, but she seemed rather shy. Bryan told me they had great hopes for her once she came into her own."
Joe nodded. "JL's much less shy once you get to know her. Or, more accurately, once she gets to know you. Speaking of which, what did you find out? Is she in the city yet?"
Connor studied the other traffic on the road intently for a minute, then he shook his head. "It's a bit confusing. Danny Kane, the FBI video-analyst I told you about, is trying to check into things without arousing too many suspicions. Security's extremely tight, though. Instead of using a cell at one of the prisons in the area, they have her in of one of the secure houses the FBI owns up in Westchester. Danny says only the six agents assigned to the case can get into the building, much less talk to her. Apparently it's not unusual to take such measures to protect a suspect when other policemen might want to avenge the victim."
"Where did you meet a video analyst?" Duncan asked.
"His wife's an artist, and they were at one of the gallery openings that Rachel's constantly dragging me to."
Duncan grinned. "I knew there had to be a woman involved in this somewhere."
"Can we see her?" Richie asked impatiently.
"You can try," Connor said quietly, "but when I went over yesterday, I was told that JL didn't want any visitors."
Joe shook his head. "That might be true, I suppose," he said. "But right before she turned herself in I told her I'd be in to see her as often as they'd let me, and she said she'd be waiting."
"Maybe she changed her mind and doesn't want anyone to see her in prison," Duncan guessed. "We'll go over later and try ourselves."
Joe nodded, but still looked worried. Richie reached over and patted his knee reassuringly. "She's tough, Joe," he said. "She'll be OK."
"The good news," Connor continued, "is that Jim and Bryan have a friend who specializes in defending incest victims, and she called me to say that they talked her into taking the case. Her name is Colleen Thompson, and she's going to meet us at my house this evening to learn about the situation. I called some of my friends in the legal profession, and they all said she has a stellar reputation."
"I remember JL talking about her," Joe said. "She represented one of Bryan's friends, Terry, who had repressed memories of his father's abuse for almost twenty years." Joe paused, then smiled at Connor. "I really appreciate all the effort you've gone to, Connor. It would have taken me weeks to get all this done."
"No problem. Anyone who keeps saving Duncan from himself deserves all the outside assistance he can get. And from what I hear, you've been working overtime lately."
Joe grinned despite his nervousness as Duncan growled and threw a mock punch at Connor. Connor ignored him and parked in front of Nash Antiques. They had just opened the door to the shop when the Immortals felt the familiar buzz and looked around for the source. Richie spotted it first, and he waved. "Hi, Adam," he called. "What are you hiding in the back of the shop for?"
"I'm not hiding, Richie," Adam replied mildly. "I'm over here trying to seduce Connor's lovely secretary, but she's not buying it. Which, sadly, is pretty much the story of my life."
Rachel laughed and brushed past Adam with a small blush. Handing Connor his messages, she said, "Colleen Thompson called. She's got an appointment to see JL Dawson tomorrow morning at 10 am."
"Thanks, Rachel," Connor said with a smile. "You're still the best. Do you want to continue putting your new friend down or shall we take him with us?"
"Oh, you can have him," she said casually. "He's rather a pest though, so be warned."
Adam raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, and he elbowed Richie before the younger man could say anything. "She thinks I'm a harmless Watcher," he whispered to Richie, "and I like it that way."
Connor escorted them all from the shop into the elevator and up to his living quarters, then he told them where the guest rooms were. "You're all welcome to stay here, but I have to warn you--I've only got two guest rooms," he said, "one with a queen-sized bed and one with two twins. So you have to figure out your own rooming assignments."
After a brief discussion, Duncan decided to share the queen-sized bed with Richie and let Adam and Joe have the other room. Sending Richie on ahead with his own and Joe's suitcases on the grounds that he was the youngest and had the most energy, Duncan, Adam, and Joe followed at a more leisurely pace.
"What do you mean, Jim and Bryan didn't want to get me a suite at the Ritz?" Adam complained as they walked up the stairs. "What kind of gratitude is that?"
"The kind that's stretched a bit thin, I would think." Duncan replied. "They seemed to think that helping you out with Martinique settled their debt to you."
Adam stopped short and stared at Duncan. "They told you about that?" he demanded.
Duncan smiled innocently. "They did mention something about that, yes. And something about your relationship with Socrates as well. Why do you think I'm rooming with Richie and not you?" Laughing, Duncan raced up the stairs, leaving Adam to sputter indignantly to Joe.
They had tried to see JL the previous afternoon after they'd settled in at Connor's, but they were told she still wasn't accepting visitors. Joe had insisted, but even he couldn't make any headway against the FBI's bureaucracy. So when Colleen went to talk to her client the next morning, Adam dug out his good suit and accompanied her as her assistant. He knew the instant he saw JL that something was wrong--she had dark circles under her eyes and her hands shook so much that her handcuffs jangled. Her eyes were still blue, though, so Adam knew that Sutkin hadn't managed to gain control while she was in prison.
The guard released one handcuff and pushed her into the chair. She didn't comment as he passed the handcuff through the metal ring in the table and reattached it to her wrist, but her eyes took on a distant, glassy look. Colleen demanded that they release her, but the guard refused, saying that she had 'violent tendencies.' Colleen tried to argue, but JL interrupted her suddenly. "It's all right," she said quietly. "It's not worth fighting about."
Colleen glanced at Adam, who nodded uncertainly. Shaking her head, she ordered the guard outside the door and began talking to JL about her case. JL answered her questions calmly, but the lack of emotion in her voice made Adam long for a recurrence of her supposed violent tendencies. She recounted the story as if it had happened to someone else, and even Colleen seemed aware that something was wrong.
As they were leaving, Adam turned to JL. "Is it true you don't want visitors, JL?" he asked quietly.
JL looked extremely sad, but she just nodded her head slowly. "It's true. Not here," she replied. "Please, Adam, it's better if you don't try anymore. Just get me out of here."
Adam watched the guards lead JL back toward her cell, then he turned back to Colleen. She looked curiously at him, but he took her out of the prison and to a local cafe before he tried to talk about it. "I don't know," he admitted. "She wasn't herself, no question about it. But she's never been in jail before, so that might be part of it. From what I understand of her past, all of what she did say was true."
"If she acts like that on the stand, Adam, the jury isn't going to be able to sympathize with her. She's too controlled, too distant. The prosecution will have no trouble painting her as a pre-meditative murderer."
"Let's get her out of jail, and I'll guarantee you she'll act differently. I don't understand why she doesn't want visitors, but she must be under a lot of stress."
"Well," Colleen said thoughtfully, "they claimed she had violent tendencies, but that's usually an excuse to cover some kind of abuse. I looked for bruises, though, but I didn't see any."
Nor would you, thought Adam sadly. Not unless they happened on the way to the interview room. Aloud he said, "I didn't either, but she's definitely acting strangely. How soon can you arrange a bail hearing?"
"I can probably get one scheduled tomorrow. She's already been in jail for three days since she turned herself in back in Seacouver, so I can use that as leverage too. If we're lucky, we'll get Judge Andrea McClellan. She's a very reasonable person and I've worked with her before."
Adam nodded. "Whatever you think is best. I'd better go back and tell everyone what's going on."
Adam took his time getting back to the antique shop so he could face his friends without letting them see how worried he was. When he arrived, he avoided any comments about JL's mental state and focused on the facts that JL was still controlling Alaric, that she had leveled with Colleen, and that Colleen was setting up the bail hearing. He even managed to convince them that JL didn't want visitors because she hated the thought of seeing them in an interrogation room. Joe didn't want to believe it, but Adam could honestly assure him that their attempted visits were causing her unnecessary stress.
After the others had gone to bed, Adam sat in Connor's living room and prayed to anyone who might be listening that JL would stay strong enough to keep Alaric Sutkin from taking control, no matter what they were doing to her in that prison. When Colleen called the next morning to tell them that the bail hearing had been set for that afternoon, he repeated his prayers until they got to the courtroom. Please, he implored silently, don't let Alaric win. Not now. Not when you've come so far.
The instant they led JL into the courtroom the next morning, he knew his prayers might have helped get them assigned to Judge McClellan's court, but they hadn't been enough to help JL. She walked with a relaxed stride and her face looked extremely serene, but her black eyes gleamed with a cold fury that Adam knew meant that Sutkin had taken control of JL's body. He looked worriedly at Duncan, and his friend nodded slightly. Duncan looked concerned but resolute, and Adam knew if they couldn't get JL back in control, he'd have an extremely hard time convincing the Highlander to let her live. Of course, he thought, if she's not in control, it won't really be her we're killing, now will it? I still hope it doesn't come down to that.
Alaric held JL's body still as the prosecutor outlined all the reasons she should be denied bail. It's all right, JL, Alaric said silently. We'll get out. And then those bastards can't touch us any more. JL didn't answer him, but he could feel her panic recede slightly. Good, little one. Just let the lawyer do her stuff and I'll look sincere and trustworthy. Satan knows I've faked it often enough before.
Colleen stood up and addressed Judge McClellan. "Your honor," she said, "it's true that my client has had a difficult past. But she's also been able to put that past behind her. She turned herself in to the FBI as soon as they contacted her friend, Joseph Dawson. She has a long history of cooperation with the police. In 1974 she testified as a witness in a murder trial, and for the past three years she's been a private investigator in Los Angeles and has worked very closely with the LAPD on a number of cases. My client is not a flight risk, your Honor. She is ready to face her past in a court of law and explain her actions to a judge and jury. We ask that bail be waived and that Ms. Dawson be released on her own recognizance."
The Assistant District Attorney shook his head. "The State strongly disagrees, your Honor. The defendant's familiarity with law enforcement techniques makes her a prime flight risk, because she knows how to avoid a police investigation. The fact that she has spent the last 25 years as a free woman proves that. And she hasn't even been back to her apartment in Los Angeles for the last eight months, which means she isn't very strongly tied to that community, regardless of her prior assistance to the police. The State recommends that bail be set at two million dollars."
Colleen looked at her counterpart in disbelief. "My client is a private investigator with modest funds available, your Honor," she said. "She can't possibly afford such an outrageous sum."
Judge McClellan looked at the two lawyers, then at JL. "Do you have anything to add?" she asked JL.
Alaric considered this for a minute, trying to decide what combination of lies and truth to tell the judge. JL desperately wanted to talk to Joe, and that gave him an idea. Nodding, he stood up. "Yes, your Honor, I do. I realize that my lifestyle makes me seem rather cavalier about where I'm living and what I'm doing, but that's not really true. In the last 25 years I've had only four residences: Boston, Seacouver, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. And while I haven't kept in touch with anyone the law regards as my family, I've built a new family with Joseph Dawson." Alaric directed a loving glance at Joe, but he had to struggle to keep the sarcasm out of JL's voice. "I would never do anything to jeopardize my relationship with him. And jumping bail would definitely do that." Alaric paused and smiled wryly. "Besides, I've lived in constant fear of being discovered for a long time now, and, quite frankly, I'm tired of it. My counsel is correct--I'm more than ready to face my day in court. I've finally come to understand what happened in 1971, and I'm confident a jury will, too." Striving for the right mix of sincerity and apprehension, Alaric tried to make JL's face look as honest as he could. It's been a few years, it's true, he thought to himself, but this is how sincerity looks. I'm sure of it.
The judge studied JL's face and then nodded at Colleen. "Bail is set at $20,000," she said, "and the trial will begin in three weeks, on Monday, January 6th. Next case."
Colleen smiled at JL, then squeezed her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow at Connor's," she said, "and we'll start going over your case. Oh, by the way, Jim and Bryan said to tell you that they wish you all the best and they have a room at the Ritz waiting for you."
"Bryan always did like his creature comforts," Alaric replied.
Colleen looked at JL curiously, but Alaric was staring at the guards as they moved in to reclaim her. JL wanted to run to Joe and the others, but Alaric kept firm control of her body. Later, little one, he soothed her. Let's just get out of here with as little fuss as possible, shall we? They granted you bail, and I'm sure Joe will post it. This nightmare is almost over. Just stick with me, and we'll be fine. I want to get out of this as much as you do, remember?
Later, JL promised herself as the guards took her to a local jail instead of driving her back to the Westchester safe house. I'll take control back later. I'm just too tired right now. A good night's sleep and I'll be back in top form.
Of course you will, replied Alaric. Of course you will.
Joe and Richie waited impatiently as the FBI agent and his police counterpart slowly checked that all the paperwork was in order. Richie had wanted to follow Adam and find out what he, Duncan, and Connor had seemed so serious about, but he had the most experience with bail bondsmen, so he'd gone with Joe to take care of those details. I still think there's something to be said for a street education, he thought while they waited. You learn the ins and outs of the legal system better than most of the cops.
He smiled at JL when the guards led her through the door, but she just walked up to the desk to get her possessions without looking at him. Once she had signed for her belongings, she turned to them and smiled, but Richie only noticed JL's black eyes.
"Alaric," he whispered.
"I'll explain later, Richie," Alaric whispered back. "Can we please get out of here now? Before I lose control and she goes hysterical?"
Richie nodded and escorted JL to the door, being careful not to let her get behind him. Alaric sighed dramatically but didn't protest as long as they kept moving out of the police station. Once they had gained the street, they saw an older man watching Adam, Duncan, and Connor. "Donovan," Alaric said venomously, then strode over to him. Donovan glanced up and started to leave, but Alaric was too quick for him.
"Donovan," he hissed, "you listen to me. This will not go unanswered, do you understand me? Whatever Aurelia says, whatever you want to believe, it doesn't matter. In the end, you and I will have a very long discussion about this. And you will not enjoy it, either."
Donovan blanched but tried to look tough. "Are you threatening me, Dawson?" he blustered.
Alaric put JL's face a scant inch from Donovan's and let him see his hatred in her eyes. "You'll wish it were Dawson threatening you, Donovan," he promised coldly. "She has too many qualms to teach you a proper lesson. But I am Alaric Sutkin, and qualms aren't a problem for me. By the time I'm finished, you'll understand what I mean. Intimately."
Donovan almost trembled, then he mumbled something about talking to Aurelia before he fled. Alaric watched him go, then realized that the other Immortals and Joe were staring at him. "It's a long story," he said tiredly, "and I promise to tell it once we get home. I even promise not to try and kill any of you before we get there. Especially without a sword." Looking at the group assembled before him, he sighed. "That's the last time I'll ever let JL listen to your advice, Highlander. Turn herself in, indeed. Next time just use your katana. It will hurt less."
Duncan stared at JL for a minute, then said flatly, "I'll be happy to do just that if you don't give control back to JL right now, Sutkin."
"She doesn't want control, Highlander. She's been through hell this last week, courtesy of that miserable ex-employee of mine who just left. You just can't get good help these days. The absolution of slavery was a grave mistake. The prospect of being sold to the highest bidder was a great motivator."
Duncan didn't look amused, and Alaric sighed. "You want her back, Highlander? Fine. Just be prepared to deal with the results."
"Alaric..." Adam began, but Alaric wasn't listening anymore.
Duncan, Connor, Adam, Richie, and Joe all watched in amazement as JL closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly began trembling. Her eyes snapped open and she stared at them in terror, then the adrenaline that Alaric had been holding back all week flooded into her system and she shoved past Duncan and raced off into the city as though her life depended on it.
The five of them watched her run, too surprised to try and stop her. Richie recovered first and started to sprint off after her, but Duncan grabbed his arm.
"Don't, Richie," he said. "If we chase her on foot, she's liable to panic even more than she already has."
"So what do we do?" Joe asked.
"We try to follow her in the van. Or until one of us gets a better idea," Duncan replied. "At least there's a heater in the van, and she can't get all that far on foot, no matter how fast she runs."
As they got in the van, Richie nervously pushed the cassette Connor had been listening to into the tape player. As they listened to The Who's Quadrophenia, Duncan suddenly snapped his fingers. "Central Park," he announced.
"What?" Connor asked, turning down the music.
"She's going to Central Park."
"How do you know that?" Richie asked.
"I just remembered that she told me the only place she felt safe as a child was the tree she and Fitzcairn used to meet at in Central Park."
"That's right, she did mention talking to Fitz there," Joe said. "And didn't she also say that she was watching the sail boats? That would put it somewhere within sight of the pond."
Duncan nodded. "That should narrow it down enough. Besides, I have a hunch Fitzcairn's memories will help me recognize the spot when I see it."
"Great," Adam muttered. "Now you're hearing internal voices too. The Gathering better hurry up and get here before we all end up in therapy."
"Like you haven't done your time on Sean Burns' couch," Connor shot back.
"What if she runs into another Immortal?" Joe asked before the two could escalate the argument.
Duncan smiled grimly. "I doubt they could catch her at this point. And you can't challenge what you can't catch." Sighing, Duncan stared at the streets for a minute, then he looked back at Joe. "I'm sorry, Joe," he said. "If I'd have known she'd take off, I wouldn't have pushed Sutkin so hard."
Adam shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Duncan," he said. "Sutkin must have been having problems keeping control, or he wouldn't have given in so easily. Whatever this Donovan did to her, it must have been extremely stressful. I haven't seen her take off like that since the fight we had over whether she should take the Lucas Buck assignment. If she follows her usual pattern, she'll run herself into exhaustion until her brain kicks back in and she calms down."
Joe nodded agreement. "She's always running from something or another. Adam's right--she'll run herself out. She knows the city, so I suppose she'll be OK until then."
They drove in silence for a while until Connor decided to give in to his curiosity. "So," he said, "what's really going on with JL? I mean, is it a Dark Quickening or something altogether different?"
Adam smiled to himself and said, "Well, I happen to have a theory about that." Ignoring Duncan's dramatic sigh and exaggerated eye-rolling, he settled back in his seat and continued. "When we were in San Francisco, Bryan hypnotized her in order to figure out exactly what kind of hold Sutkin had over her, and he thought that her mental patterns were consistent with a person who has multiple-personalities."
"So Sutkin's Quickening created a new personality?" Duncan asked disbelievingly.
"Not exactly. We didn't do this before she fought Sutkin, so we can't do a proper comparison, but Bryan thinks she already had at least one other personality to begin with. She can't remember anything before she was six years old, even under hypnosis, and that's a classic sign. Once the disorder manifests itself, it becomes easier and easier to create a new personality. In fact, it can become the person's first reaction to stress."
Joe shook his head. "But she hasn't shown any signs of doing that since I've known her. Unless you think all her personalities are so similar that I wouldn't notice a difference."
"No," Adam replied slowly, "personalities are usually very different from each other, so you probably would have noticed something. Bryan found indications that her personality split at least once around six, but that it had probably already split before that. The research he found suggested that the abuse has to begin as early as two or three for the child's personality to be malleable enough to split. Then, after the first split, the 'core personality,' as they call it, stops developing. The human brain is a very, very complex thing with lots of strange defenses when it gets overwhelmed. Have any of you read When Rabbit Howls by Truddi Chase?"
"I did," Connor replied. "It was an amazing book."
Adam nodded. "Truddi Chase has over 90 personalities, and the book talks about how they all came to know and talk to one another. Rabbit was one of the youngest, and she endured most of the abuse. She calls her personalities 'the Troops,' and different ones wrote different parts of the book. In fact, the exact authorship is 'the Troops for Truddi Chase.' When she finally got to know them all, she decided not to try and integrate them. One of her personalities changed her eye color when it was in control, too."
Duncan shook his head. "How does this relate to her being able to access Sutkin's memories? And, more importantly, to his being able to control her body?"
"JL didn't just absorb Sutkin's Quickening," Adam replied. "She made it into a part of herself that is as substantial as any of her other personalities, and who has as much control."
Richie looked fascinated. "Do you think every Quickening JL takes will create a new personality?"
"I hope not," Adam replied fervently. "For JL's sake if not ours. I think as she gets used to this whole Quickening business, she'll learn to take it in stride and incorporate the power the same way we do. With Joe's kidnapping and her sudden shift from Watcher to Immortal, her whole encounter with Sutkin had to be off the scale, stress-wise."
Connor parked the van near an entrance to Central Park, and the five men got out and looked around. "Not to disparage your amazing tracking ability, Duncan," Connor said dryly, "but I think we should split up. She could be here by now, but, depending on how long it takes her to calm down, it could be hours. What do you say we rendezvous every half hour here at the van and compare notes? It's too cold to linger in the park anyway. If you need coffee or something, there are some cafes along Central Park West that serve great cappuccino." Connor laughed softly as he added, "Just remember, you're in New York City now, so if you want coffee, bring your credit card."
Splitting up, they walked into the park and tried to ignore the bitter wind stirring up the old newspapers and Styrofoam cups left behind by countless visitors. The park was decorated for Christmas, but it still had a forlorn air of desolation that suited Adam's pessimistic attitude perfectly. They had reconvened at the van twice before he finally felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal. Turning around, he spotted JL trudging through the dead grass and abandoned newspapers. She was staring unseeingly at the ground before her, and her long black hair had escaped its braid and was falling unheeded around her shoulders and blowing in her face. She didn't even seem aware of Adam's presence until he spoke to her. "JL?" he called, "are you all right?"
JL looked up slowly, and Adam studied the dark circles under her blue eyes. "No," she whispered. "I'm cold, tired, and I just want to go home. This was a mistake, Adam. I can't go through with it. I'm not strong enough."
Adam put his arms around her and held her close, trying to help her get warm. "It's all right, JL," he soothed. "What happened last week? Sutkin implied the FBI agents were less than perfect gentlemen."
JL shuddered and snuggled deeper without answering. Adam held her for a minute, then realized there was a hard lump pressing into his hip. Reaching into her coat pocket, he pulled out a .38 special and stared at it in amazement. "Where," he asked incredulously, "did you get this?"
JL smiled for the first time and retrieved the gun. "New York's a great town, Adam. You can buy anything, any time. All you have to do is know where to shop."
Adam shook his head. "If the FBI catches you with this, they'll lock you up again, JL. And it won't look good on your record. I can hear the prosecutor now: 'And after you left your bail hearing, Ms. Dawson, didn't you run right out and buy an illegal handgun? And just what would a good, upstanding citizen like yourself need with such a thing?'"
JL handed the gun back to Adam. "So you carry it," she said with a soft laugh.
Adam rolled his eyes, but put the gun in his inside coat pocket as he ushered her back to Connor's van. After the rest came back for the next rendezvous, she exchanged subdued greetings with the others, but wouldn't elaborate on what had happened. Connor drove in silence back to his house, where he let the others settle into the living room while he mixed up some hot chocolate liberally spiked with brandy.
JL sat as far away from everyone as she could, seemingly content to drink her hot chocolate and look at the things Connor had displayed on his walls. Adam, however, was only willing to let her take a couple of sips before he spoke. "So, JL," he prompted, "why did Sutkin take such an intense dislike to Donovan?"
JL sighed but met Adam's gaze. "I knew him because he was my father's ex-partner, and my father occasionally, well, let's just say he occasionally shared me with him." JL took a larger swallow and let the brandy help her relax. "And he decided he wanted to resume our previous relationship while I was in custody. Alaric knew him because he's one of the Black Adders' mortal contacts." JL's eyes unfocused for a moment, then she smiled wryly. "Make that soon-to-be-ex contact. Alaric intends to take care of that soon." JL raised her hand as Adam started to say something. "Relax, Adam. I told him it was still under discussion. Although," she continued with a flash of anger in her eye, "I might be willing to kill him cleanly if I get the opportunity."
"You could press charges," Joe offered.
JL shook her head. "The drawback to being a fast healer is there's no evidence of physical abuse. How can I convince a jury they hurt me when I don't even have a bruise to show for it? No, it would be my word against theirs. And there were six of them at one time or another."
"Why didn't you want to see us while you were in custody?" Richie asked.
"I never saw anyone except for the six agents assigned to my case, all of whom Alaric recognized as being Black Adders. They never told me I had a visitor unless it was my lawyer and they couldn't keep her out." JL smiled tiredly at Richie and Joe. "I knew you were trying to get in, but what could I do about it? When I complained, their brutality just got even more creative. So when Adam asked if I wanted visitors, I said no." JL stared over Joe's head for a while, then she shrugged. "Besides, I wasn't really there all the time, either. Donovan kept reminding me of being Lori St. Cloud, and how I had an obligation to 'please' him the way my father had told me to. The more helpless I felt, the less strength I had to keep Alaric from taking control. Finally I stopped caring and let him take over when Donovan came in for our fourth session."
JL got up and poured herself a straight brandy, then settled back on the couch, her eyes growing distant again. "It was an interesting encounter. Alaric identified himself with some code words, but Donovan just laughed and told him he was officially dead to the Black Adders, and therefore had no power. Then, to prove how unimpressed he was with Alaric's sudden reappearance, he called in a couple of his friends and conducted an extremely lengthy and painful session that annoyed Alaric mentally as much as it hurt me physically." JL paused to shake off the memory, then she continued in a slightly lighter tone. "After that we started taking turns enduring their attentions. It's a strange feeling when I'm not in control--I can almost feel the pain, but it doesn't seem to matter all that much. Sort of like being back on heroin, actually."
"Did you ever feel that way when your father was molesting you?" Adam asked.
JL looked thoughtful. "Maybe. It's been so long, I can't really remember how it felt living with my father. Over the years it's all gotten confused with being a heroin addict, followed by the agony of becoming an ex-heroin addict." She sighed and sipped her drink. "What you feel during withdrawal has a way of overshadowing everything you've ever felt before. Or since. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, really," Adam replied casually. "Just testing another one of my hypotheses."
JL studied him for a second, then pushed the hair out of her eyes and yawned. "Joe, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your posting my bail. And Connor, this is a fabulous room full of trinkets I'd just love to hear the histories of, but I haven't been sleeping particularly well lately. So if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I'll catch a cab over to the Ritz and sleep until noon. Maybe even later."
"The Ritz?" Adam asked.
JL nodded. "Colleen told me that Jim and Bryan got me a room there. We almost always get adjoining suites when we travel." JL grinned at Adam.
"Some people take care of their students instead of expecting their students to take care of them," Joe said softly.
Adam glowered at him, and JL laughed as she walked to the elevator door, where she picked up her coat and her scimitar and got ready to face a New York City winter night.
"Do you want any company, JL?" Adam asked.
"No, thanks. I can get some sedatives from Doctor Jim if the nightmares get too bad."
"I'll drive you over," Connor offered, getting up and retrieving his coat and keys.
"I brought your suitcase, JL," Joe said. "It's there by the door, along with your sword case."
JL nodded and picked up the cases. "What would I do without you, Joe?" she asked fondly, then she turned and grinned at Connor. "And I never turn down a ride in a Porsche."
"The Ritz indeed," Adam groused as she and Connor left. "Those boys are going to spoil her."
"Better her than you, old man," Duncan replied. "At least she's grateful when you do things for her."
"I'm grateful," Adam protested. "Most of the time, anyway. And I did try to help Joe when he'd been hauled off by the Tribunal."
"Not until I reminded you about all the things he's done for you."
"I still say it was his choice," Adam sulked.
"Care to debate this in Connor's exercise room downstairs?" Duncan challenged, but Adam didn't back down the way he'd expected.
"Certainly, Highlander," he replied. "Come see what I've remembered lately. We'll see who ends up teaching whom."
Joe and Richie chuckled as the two men headed out, then they began examining all the things Connor had hanging on his walls.
As she had predicted, JL didn't wake up until noon, but she didn't feel as rested as she had hoped. Being abused by Donovan again had re-awakened all her old nightmares, and she had spent most of the night caught between exhaustion and terror. I wish Jim and Bryan had been in last night when I got here, she thought as she struggled to open her eyes. Even if Jim didn't have any sedatives with him, I'm sure they would have been willing to sit with me and wake me up when the dreams got bad, just like they did after I killed Sutkin. I wonder what they're up to. They didn't even leave me a message. That settles it though, they're each getting a cellular phone for Christmas, and I'm going to badger them until they start carrying them around.
With a shrug, JL called room service and ordered breakfast with a full pot of coffee for delivery in 45 minutes, then she got in the shower and luxuriated in the hot, streaming water for half an hour. Feeling a little more awake, she got out, dried off, and put on her favorite flannel robe that Joe had thoughtfully included when he packed her suitcase. She chatted for awhile with the bellboy who brought up her breakfast, letting him fill her in on the comings and goings in New York City since the last time she'd been there, then she ate her breakfast and headed over to Connor's.
Saying "Hello" to Rachel, JL went up to Connor's loft. Colleen and the others were already gathered around a table, looking at some files.
"Good afternoon, JL," Colleen greeted her. "Did you sleep well?"
"All right, considering," JL replied with a small smile. "What have you decided on as our course of attack?"
"Well, first I need some answers, and I'd like you to tell me as much as you remember."
JL nodded and squeezed down on the couch between Joe and Richie. Joe obligingly moved over a little, but Richie just moved closer and put an arm around her shoulders. She arched an eyebrow at him, then sighed resignedly and allowed him to leave his arm there. She thought she heard Adam snicker softly, but when she glanced at him he was examining one of the swords hanging on Connor's wall. Looking back at Colleen, she smiled. "What do you need to know?"
"Well, you already gave me some of the details at our first meeting--namely that your father began molesting you when you were eight and you killed him when you were twelve. Joe also said that your father killed your mother, and made you lie about it. How old were you when that happened?"
"Ten," JL answered.
"Did you think your life was in danger when you killed him?" Colleen asked.
"Do you mean in more danger than usual or just the run-of-the-mill danger my life was always in?"
Colleen tapped her pencil on her teeth thoughtfully. "So you thought he might kill you at any time," she asked.
JL nodded, unconsciously reaching out to take Joe's hand. "He said he killed my mother because she looked at him once too often. He broke my arm four or five times over a two-year period because he was arguing with his boss at work. He drank enough to stock a bar and he was given to violent outbursts. Yes, I thought he might kill me at any time. I knew I could push him over the edge if I just argued at the wrong time, but I didn't have the courage. So I'd shut up and let him hit me until he passed out." JL's voice had risen angrily as she spoke, but then she dropped her eyes and said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you."
Colleen smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, JL, you can be as angry as you need to be. I'm an expert in this field because I've been there. I didn't kill my father, but I did testify against him in court so my sisters would be taken away from him. It was very hard, because part of me really wanted to be daddy's little girl. But he made that impossible, not me. And not you. So," she said, handing JL a legal pad, "why don't you write down every injury you remember that required a hospital visit and which hospital you think he took you to. Then we'll get the records to prove a pattern of abuse."
"Colleen," JL said hesitantly, "am I going to prison?"
Colleen shook her head. "If we can prove that you were abused, I don't think so. It's actually a good thing that you're on trial now instead of in the seventies. A lot of abuse cases have been covered in the media lately, and people are beginning to realize that incest does happen, and that the victims rarely tell anyone about the problem until it's too late. We just don't want it to end up being your word against your father's, so we'll get other opinions. After you've listed the hospitals, list the names of your teachers, neighbors, anyone who knew your father and might have seen or heard him fighting with you or your mother. Every character witness who says your father drank a lot or was often angry is a point in your favor."
"What about her brother, Jason?" Richie asked.
"I'll talk to him, too," Colleen replied. "I don't know what he intended to get out of contacting you in Seacouver, JL, but he probably didn't get it, so he might be amenable to a deal from me. I know he's been arrested for heroin possession, so he should be anxious to make any deal he can."
"I wouldn't count on Jason too much," JL said quietly. "He's got a few things to hide himself, so he'll probably be leery of saying anything the FBI doesn't want him to say."
"Anything I could use to make the jury question his credibility?" Colleen asked.
JL sighed and shook her head. "Nothing I could prove that isn't already in his criminal record. I really don't want to drag him into this any more than necessary anyway. He's got enough trouble of his own right now."
Colleen looked thoughtful, but she decided to drop the subject and let her investigator work on it for awhile.
"What can the rest of us do?" Joe asked. "I mean, I'm sure you have investigators for this, but we've all had some experience digging through obscure paperwork to find information, and none of us are any good at sitting around waiting."
"Well, Jim and Bryan are already working with my investigator, but he can always use more help," Colleen acknowledged. "After JL makes out the list, we can split it up and research what people are still alive and what hospitals records are still available. Then we can start canvassing JL's old acquaintances to see what they remember. I've gotten much better results having the person who's actually involved with the case talk to the potential witnesses, too," she said with a rueful smile. "They have a much harder time claiming that the questions make them feel 'uncomfortable' when the person who was being hurt is standing there asking them. JL, do you know of anyone else your father molested?"
JL stared thoughtfully at her legal pad for a minute, then she nodded. "I know of at least one, a mentally retarded boy about my age named Alex Jackson. But I don't have any idea of where he is now or even if he'd remember it." Shaking off an old memory, JL shrugged. "There were some other kids that were afraid of him, too. They said he yelled at them, but I'll bet he at least hit some of them."
"All right," Colleen said, "Put their names at the top of the list, and I'll get people looking for them."
JL nodded and began writing. After she finished her list, Colleen divided it up and sent Adam, Richie, and Connor off to search for hospital records while JL took Joe and Duncan to her old neighborhood. JL stood staring at her former apartment house for a minute, unable to summon the courage to go inside. Joe held her close for a second, then let her go and headed into the building. Duncan looked at her with a reassuring smile, which she returned weakly before following Joe in the front door. The hallway was smaller and dingier than she remembered, but old Mrs. DuPont still lived in 1A, across the hall from JL's old apartment. They talked to her for a while, but she was in her eighties now, and her memories weren't particularly clear. The rest of the tenants had all changed since JL had left, and Mrs. DuPont didn't know where anyone had gone.
The buildings on either side yielded the same discouraging results, so Duncan suggested they try JL's old school. Checking in with the office, they found out that all of JL's teachers had retired, but Duncan was able to get the secretary to give them forwarding addresses for some of them. JL grinned to herself as she watched Duncan charm the secretary, but she decided to refrain from teasing him considering how many young men she'd charmed in her own investigative career. Not that I blame her, she thought. I'd forget the rules gazing into those gorgeous brown eyes myself.
Not you too, Alaric sneered. What about poor Adam? And lovelorn little Richie? How many hearts do you plan to get on your string, JL?
You're just jealous, Alaric, she replied, struggling not to blush, because no one ever loved you.
Not true, Alaric replied. Sometime I'll have to tell you about Aurelia. Probably should do it before you end up facing her, too.
She's one of us?
Not only that, my dear, but she's also one of me. A Satanist of the highest order. My very finest pupil, in fact. And a finer swordswoman you'll never hope to meet.
JL shuddered slightly. Lovely. Please make sure you tell me all about her so I can avoid her.
Alaric chuckled silently, but Duncan had the addresses and JL had to concentrate on taking them to the closest house. Her teacher, Mrs. Abigail Pratt, was slightly more helpful than Mrs. DuPont. She remembered JL's struggle learning how to write with her left hand because of the cast on her right, and she agreed to testify to that. The next teacher, Mr. Harvey Scanlon, needed a bit more prompting, but he eventually remembered sending JL to the school nurse several times when she came in with bruises on her face and a split lip. He, too, agreed to testify.
The other three teachers on the list didn't remember JL well enough to help, but she was encouraged with the two they'd found. "I didn't think anyone would remember me," she confided to Duncan and Joe on the way back to Connor's. "I was only a mediocre student at the best of times, and I tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible."
Joe nodded and smiled at her. "Teachers see more than you think, JL. So do parents, when we're paying attention. At least, the good ones do, anyway."
Duncan nodded but still looked thoughtful. "What's the matter, Duncan?" JL asked him. "You don't seem encouraged."
"I think it's a good start, JL," Duncan replied, "but we still haven't found anyone who can prove it was your father who hurt you. Maybe we should talk to Jason."
JL stared out at the passing cityscape for a minute, then she shook her head. "I'm not sure how much I trust him. I'd hate to count on him corroborating my story only to have him suddenly claim that our father was a saint in order to cut a better deal for himself."
Duncan glanced at JL in the rearview mirror. "Did Jason ever abuse you, JL?" he asked. Duncan watched in the mirror as JL stared out the window silently for a while, then he saw her quickly brush away a tear before she nodded and whispered, "Yes."
The rest of December passed similarly, with trips to dusty records rooms punctuated by visits to JL's old acquaintances, most of whom seemed unhappy to see her and few of whom were willing to talk to Colleen, let alone testify. Jason had talked to Colleen, but the father he claimed to remember was definitely a much kinder, gentler man than the one JL had known, and his testimony was going to be very hard to disprove.
The one event that brought JL out of her depression was Connor's annual Christmas celebration on December 21st. Jim and Bryan decided to pull out all the stops and turn JL into their personal version of Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady. They bought her a red silk strapless gown with a full skirt that sparkled with gold sequins, then they added a ruby and diamond necklace and earrings that shown almost as brightly as the dress. They introduced her to the make-up artist/hair stylist, Michael, that they'd met while they were in Cats. Michael tutted over how her hair wasn't being properly cared for, then trimmed the split ends and turned it into an artful waterfall of ebony that perfectly complimented the flowing cut of her dress.
"There," Michael declared. "That softens your face and makes you look years younger. Now let's do your make-up and you'll be ready to take on the world."
Or go back and work the streets, she thought, staring uneasily at the beautiful stranger who looked back at her in the mirror. I look like a high-priced call girl.
You look like a lovely and wealthy woman, Alaric replied. A call girl's skirt would be much tighter and would ride up higher when you sat down.
Thanks for pointing out the distinction, Alaric, she replied silently as the stylist applied her make-up.
When she entered the ballroom Connor had rented, Richie, Duncan, and Connor couldn't help staring. Grinning at their shocked expressions, Adam leaned over and whispered, "That, gentlemen, is why I call her 'princess.' Not to mention why I got close enough to feel her pre-Immortal buzz at the Watcher ball as soon as she walked in the door."
"Wow," Richie breathed.
"Wow covers it, too," Adam acknowledged with a chuckle and a wink at Joe, who was smiling proudly.
JL tried to stay inconspicuously positioned in a corner with Richie, but Bryan dragged her out on the dance floor and waltzed with her. They moved together so perfectly that most of the crowd stopped to watch, and even Jim looked impressed. Richie was the only one who looked unhappy about it, and his instincts were proven right when JL ended up virtually ignoring him as she was surrounded by Connor's friends, most of whom wanted to dance with her and all of whom had fascinating stories that kept her laughing and talking until dawn.
Duncan put a sympathetic arm around Richie's shoulders as they eventually watched her leave nestled between Jim and Bryan. "Did you invite her back to Connor's tonight?" Duncan asked him.
Richie shook his head. "No. I could tell she planned to spend the night with Jim and Bryan, and I didn't want to upset her. It's the first time I've seen her truly happy since this whole mess started."
Duncan nodded approvingly. "There's hope for you yet, Richie. I've seen the way she looks at you sometimes, and I agree there's something there. I think you're right not to push her too hard, though. She'll express her appreciation eventually."
"Yeah," Richie muttered, mostly to himself. "I just hope I live that long."
The next day, they went back to working on JL's case. Jim and Bryan thought they were getting close to finding Alex Jackson and Kathleen McCormick, and they started going out of town to interview people in person instead of relying on the telephone. They came back to celebrate Christmas day with them before Bryan flew to Chicago looking for Kathleen and Jim drove to upstate New York looking for Alex. They promised to keep in touch with her as often as they could, but JL found the cellular phones she'd given them still packed in their boxes after they'd headed out. JL was surprised at how much she missed talking to them at night, especially now that the trial was only a week away. She refused to leave the Ritz and move into Connor's, though, because he didn't have enough room for her and she wanted some time alone to prepare herself for the trial.
JL grew more distant and reserved as the trial approached. Joe, Richie, and the others did their best to cheer her up, without much success. When she tried going out to some of her favorite bars with Richie and managed to bring even his natural exuberance down, and she'd finally given up and gone back to her hotel room alone.
Even Alaric seemed concerned about her state of mind, searching his memory for stories about people and places that would spark her interest. On New Year's Eve, he finally convinced her that if she didn't want to party with the others, she should take her camera and spend the night photographing people bustling about in their holiday finery. Alaric seemed to appreciate the display as much as JL did, and the two of them ended up discussing the pros and cons of the different types of tuxedos and evening dresses that passed them by.
You know, Alaric, she thought as she worked her way towards Times Square, this isn't exactly the way I intended to spend New Year's Eve, but it's kind of fun. I never envisioned you having a fashion sense before.
Evil people are all supposed to be ugly, is that it? Alaric asked with a laugh. Just like we're all supposed to be stupid and easy to hate. There's much you don't know about me, little one. I just hope you'll be willing to learn what I have to teach.
Some of it, anyway, JL replied cautiously. I don't need any lessons on torturing for fun and profit.
Don't reject ways to acquire power until you've tried them. This is a difficult world we're living in, and you're going to need all the power you can get.
I've got lots of power, JL told him firmly, and it comes from my friends, not from other people's pain.
All right, all right, Alaric said with a chuckle. Just checking. You can't blame me for trying, can you?
Yes, JL said. I certainly can. Behave yourself, Alaric, or you might find yourself living in a much less amenable host once Duncan or Adam takes my head.
Alaric's answer was drowned out by the insanity that was Times Square on New Year's Eve, and he decided to drop the subject until later.
When JL finally roused herself the next day, she took a quick shower and called down for breakfast, asking that it be delivered by the bellboy she'd met the first morning. He'd brought up her breakfast several times before, and he was happy to fill her in on the gossip that didn't make the papers. JL enjoyed hearing his gossip, and she tipped him handsomely enough that he began looking for things to tell her. This time when he wheeled in her breakfast tray, he was also carrying a black turtleneck sweater neatly wrapped in a dry cleaner's plastic bag.
"Here you are Ma'am," he said cheerfully. "The cleaner's note said to tell you that the bloodstain came right out, and that it was a good thing you didn't let it sit too long."
JL looked confused but took the sweater. She was about to tell him there must be some mistake when she recognized it as one she often wore during night reconnaissance missions because it blended perfectly with the shadows and was shapeless enough to leave any potential witness unsure as to her sex. "Uh," she stammered, aware that the bellboy was staring at her, "Thanks. I, uh, had a really bad nosebleed last night, and I love this sweater."
The bellboy smiled and nodded. "I know what you mean," he replied. "I always seem to get stains on my favorite stuff, too. Now the really ugly clothes my Mom sends me for Christmas, those are indestructible." JL's laugh seemed to encourage the young man, and he leaned closer and said conspiratorially, "I thought maybe you tried to help that poor cat."
"Cat?" JL asked. "What cat?"
"Oh," he said, suddenly shy. "I probably shouldn't talk about it. You won't have the right impression of the City."
JL laughed again. "I grew up here, so don't worry about my impression. It's already been ruined. What cat?" Smiling at the bellboy, JL leaned forward expectantly and let her robe drape open ever so slightly.
And you call me shameless, Alaric chided her.
Shut up, Alaric, JL countered, careful to keep her expression friendly. You interrogate your way and I'll interrogate mine. At least my way doesn't leave scars. "So," she prompted again. "What about the cat?"
"Uh, the cat. Right." The bellboy swallowed noisily, than forcibly brought his gaze back up to JL's face. She smiled encouragingly at him, and he continued slowly. "Well, last night some sicko killed a cat in the alley out back."
"This couldn't have been the first dead cat you've seen," JL replied.
"No, but this one was cut up like a Thanksgiving turkey. They found pieces of it all down the alley."
JL shuddered. "Sounds lovely. No, I didn't see it last night, thank goodness. When did they find it?"
"One of the kitchen staffers found it this morning when he went to throw out some garbage. He called the police, but they weren't very interested in a dead cat, no matter how gruesomely carved up."
JL smiled and handed the bellboy the signed breakfast receipt and a twenty dollar bill. "Thanks for the news," she said, "and the sweater. I appreciate it."
"Sure," he beamed. "Any time." Then he went out the door before she could ask for change for the twenty.
JL watched him go and grinned. Never fails, she thought with satisfaction. Give them a bill you might want change from and they flee without another word. Or potentially awkward question. Looking at her sweater again, she shook her head. Alaric? What do you know about this? she asked silently.
Me? responded Alaric in surprise. Nothing. I was with you in Times Square last night, remember?
You were with me or you were me? Did you take control while I was sleeping?
No, little one, Alaric replied. You've told everyone you'd remember it if I had. And I haven't bothered to sacrifice anything as boring as a cat since I was twenty and I graduated from animals to humans. Now if the victim had been someone like that foolish little bellboy, well, that would be different.
Don't joke about this, Alaric, she w